#unfortunately there's So much there (plus in through the turbulance) that i.........do not have the spoons to do so

[the-force-awakens]

I think something that no one talks about is how Poe leans more towards being an anti-hero than just plain hero. He's willing to do the "wrong" things for the right reasons, ex: willing the kill bad people to save the innocent, basically willing to do the dirty work that no one wants to talk or think about. and I think it should be talked about more. Your post was just *chefs kiss*, the way you understood Poe is so refreshing compared to what I see him reduced to in canon

Poe definitely is willing to make the tough calls, including being willing to kill bad people to save innocent people (or destroy a planet to save countless others), but I wouldn't necessarily sort him into the antihero trope myself, more the "good is not nice" trope.

Because for as much as Poe is willing to shoot the bad guys, or blow up a planet if it means saving the galaxy, he's usually the first person to lower his blaster or offer someone a second chance. The biggest source of conflict between himself and Zorii in Free Fall is the fact that Poe can't fit into this life of shades of grey, and that's a trait that does follow him to the Resistance. He can lie (badly) for them, he can steal ships, be labeled a criminal if it's done for the right reasons/for the Resistance but at the same time, he also......really can't wrap his head around and seems uncomfortable at times with Suralinda's way of manipulating or recontextualizing the truth for propaganda purposes (which i wish had...been better explored in the comics it's Fine, but like I wanna know more about Poe "can't lie" Dameron and Suralinda "i'm here to tell a good story" Javos. I WANT TO KNOW MORE LUCASFILM), even if Suralinda is doing those things for the Resistance, so they can gain more support.

There's also this quote of Rian Johnson's, that I really love, and that I feel like sums up Poe the best for me:

“Oscar is like a reincarnation of my favorite old movie stars; he has that old school magnetism paired with insane acting chops. Poe is a straight-up, good-guy hero, and although he gets put through the wringer in this film, because of Oscar you never lose faith that he’s going to come out the other end all the better for it.” [from this post]

I'm having trouble wording/it's kind of hard for me to explain, but like. I view Poe as someone who is, like Rian describes him, as a good-guy hero, who usually cannot quite stop the instinct to do the heroic thing, and how that can make him quite reckless (I do believe Oscar actually described Poe during the TFA Press Tour as "recklessly heroic" sir I'm sorry i ever doubted you about Poe being reckless, I thoroughly learned my lesson #13 Poe issues and a knife to Poe's hand later) - but I think also that doesn't mean that Poe needs to look like the hero, and I think TLJ proves that? He does what he believes is the best for the Resistance, and seizes control of the Raddus. It's a last resort, of course, and I don't think he necessarily cares about what people might think of him for it* - he's a commander, he makes the hard calls all the time, and regardless of his own desire to be a hero, I don't think Poe necessarily wants to be praised as one. He's just gonna do the right, most heroic thing at any given moment, and doesn't care what people say. I mean...we kind of get the impression he's used to being seen a certain way, y'know? Poe doesn't seem surprised in the least when Holdo berates him, he just has this look of "oh this banthashit again I thought I'd heard the last of it", y'know?

*y'know except for leia. because he definitely makes a face when she says that thing about holdo in the transport. anyway moving on because this got completely. the train jumped the track here. adhd moment.

As much as he is willing to do some hard things for the Resistance, I feel like Poe would. not last a day in the Rebellion - the Rebellion is just gray. You have to be, fighting something like the Empire, they're quick and dirty and. manipulative and liars and assassins, and Poe...wouldn't have the heart for that, I think. So I do believe there would be a line, in what Poe would even be willing to do for the Resistance.

That said, I do wish canon/fanon would be more willing to explore....any of his. nuance. that everyone seems very allergic to acknowledging, and I'd especially be interested in seeing more of Poe's - I'm a dw nerd sorry I'm just gonna call it this every time - "oncoming storm" side because it's so much fun. There's some other facets of his character I'd love to see explored in more detail, but that one especially. It would honestly be a dream, I think, if Alex Segura got to write for him again, but perhaps this time in the Resistance era, because I think that man would have a blast!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! with writing a good spy adventure.

#ask box #userorb #my meta #(again. oops?) #poe dameron #i haven't seen anyone categorize him more as an anti-hero before tho! but tbh i also. #don't see many people categorizing him as good is not nice either #because that would imply. yknow. acknowledging that poe has depth #and nuance. #and that he exists as a character outside of being attractive or a part of [is sniped] #anyway. #unfortunately getting any exploration on him would. involve.....actual content for him and we're in the middle of a fcking drought right no #i would also Love if someone explored how sensitive he can be t hough #and i don't just mean in a fjaofjaosfj oscar 'he has a sensitive side' isaac way lmfaoooo but wouldn't that be something #poe definitely has rsd i think because he takes rejection/slights SO hard #i kind of want to make a compilation of it JUST from the movies/resistance alone #unfortunately there's So much there (plus in through the turbulance) that i.........do not have the spoons to do so

[ask-super-stolas]

Super Stolas Story Time Episode 1

(OOC: thought it'd be a fun writing exercise to expand on these comics in text form. Let me know what you think and I might make more in the future depending on how busy this blog gets.) ------------------------------------------------

The twister roared it's way through Imp City, sending cars and debris tossed everywhere high in the air like toys thrown by an angry child as imps and demons of all sorts rushed for cover away from the storm. tornadoes were a very rare sight in the Pride Ring, so unfortunately most infrastructure and the populace wasn't prepared for such inclement weather when it happened. Though said shoddy building was also somewhat intentional on Lucifer's part as an added punishment to the Sinners and wicked trapped there as well, shame about the native born caught in between the political strifes of the outsiders. All they could do is carve out a living the best they could among the near post-apocalyptic underworld they were born into, hoping someone could care enough about things to make some form of difference, even if said action was motivated more by their own self-image than genuine compassion....

Said someone did eventually arrive from a very unlikely place: The Goetia Royal Family. Usually viewed as far too disconnected to care about the little people beneath them and caring too much about their own royal status to do anything despite their immense powers. You see, the current prince and princess of the family, Stolas and Stella, known more for a relationship and family life more turbulent than the weather outside, have been rumored to be the two mysterious caped figures that have been seen aiding civilians throughout the seven rings. Either by averting natural disasters like the flaming twisters of Wrath, or by stopping the plans of far less scrupulous individuals of the Underworld like the crime families of Greed, or just generally intervening whenever something went awry, like when another one of Wally Wackford's wacky inventions malfunctioned... Again... For the fourteenth time that week..... For the third week in a row this month....

No one except for Stolas and Stella really knew why those two aristocrats would be so bothered to go out of their way to help citizens for little to know rewards. Some imps say it's for entertainment for the rich like an extreme challenge of sorts to test their might, some think it's for public relations to look at least somewhat good in the paper, very few seem convinced they seem to be doing it out of the kindness of their own hearts to use their power to help those who can't help themselves, though that is by far the rarest interpretation of their good deeds.

For Stolas, it was mostly initially for the thrill of the challenge. Living such a stuffy and sheltered life and being pampered with every want and need attended to was fine, but could definitely get boring after a while. Plus, with how rocky his familial affairs had become, it was a good way to blow off steam. Especially after the turmoil caused by the incident with the grimoire and an imp trying to start his own business a while back. But, it was in becoming attached to that imp named Blitzo and his friends/employees of his company, that Stolas began to see the general plight of the underclass of the Underworld and realized that maybe, just maybe, he could be able to turn at least something down here around for the better. Said thoughts were what was currently going through his mind as he chased down the rampaging cyclone, his crimson cape and fluffy grey feathers flapping in the gales as he drew closer and closer to the swirling and whirling dark funnel cloud. He began to cycle through all the different ways he could best use his amazing powers to to tame this tempest. He could fly around it in the opposite direction to create a counter wind to dispel the tornado, No.... That could just cause it to spin up into a hurricane... His laser vision to heat up the air inside to dispel it? Maybe, though that might just make the storm worse... And you can't just petrify a tornado easily, either... Opening up a portal into space to suck it in could work, but might be a bit dangerous to make a portal that large in such a crowded city... His mind then landed on his personal favorite power: His super breath. Ice breath might have the same negative effects as laser vision if he wasn't careful, blowing it away was out of the question given how deep the storm was in the city by now and could possibly just absorb his winds and use them blow even stronger gales. It was then perfect plan struck him: If he couldn't blow, then he could suck! A smirk crossed the edge of his beak as he tried to surprise an immature chuckle at that idea as he rocket past the tornado and stood in between the roaring wall of churning clouds and winds like a guardian of the city.

"Well, this might not be the most dignified way of disposing of rogue cyclones, but it is certainly the most efficient and safest way to do so I believe..." He said as he exhaled gently, emptying his lungs to make room.

"Here it goes!" he said as he opened his beak wide and began to draw in a tremendous breath using the full force of his avian lungs and air sacs as a mighty rushing wind began to roar into his mouth. Suddenly, like a powerful vacuum drawing in dust, thousands upon millions of cubic tons of air began to rush into his lungs, dragging the tornado towards Stolas' immense vortex. The storm raged and roared, writhing and twisting fruitlessly against the blustery bird's own mighty gales. Soon, with a satisfying woosh, Stolas began to suck up the twister, clouds and all as he flew upwards towards the storm's massive cumulonimbus cloud to keep swallowing up every last bit of vapor and wisp of wind until finally, with one more monumental effort and a satisfying "PUMFF" noise, Stolas snapped his beak shut, leaving only clear skies and relatively balmy breezes in his wake. He smiled as he surveyed the area from above, looking at the confused, but relieved, inhabitants of Imp City now that the storm was over and Stolas looking more than a bit comically puffed up from his stunt compared to his usual rail thin appearance. "Well, this certainly is quite the experience, isn't it?" He thought to himself, feeling the tons upon tons of violently swirling winds and clouds churn and puff inside of him. "Good thing I can hold my breath for quite a while! Now... To open a portal and blow all this excess air somewhere safe!" He thought, only to be interrupted by a ring from his phone. He quickly checked it and saw that he was late for a movie night with his imp friend, Blitzo.

"Hay, Ivv gor thee mobbie al sey up! Wat's takin u so lung?" The text message said. Ever since the incident at Ozzie's a few weeks back, Stolas had been trying to connect more with Blitzo as a friend as opposed to just an item like he used to. Completely forgetting about the swirling storm he swallowed, Stolas bolted back to his castle as fast as he could, hoping Blitzo wouldn't be too upset at him for being late. Upon arriving and entering through his living room window, he was greeted by a red with white spots imp half of his height wearing a black jacket and a cheeky, fang-filled grin. "Hey Stolas! Was wondering where you were! What took you so long?" The Imp asked his feathered friend. "I've got the Seabiscuit in the player and the Popcorn already to go! Had to disguise myself as a butler so your guard dogs wouldn't question why a random imp was bumbling around your castle screwing with your TV and digging through your cupbaords!" He gave Stolas a cheeky wink and gently nudged the owl's puffed up middle with his elbow, causing the Owl 's eyes to widen as he made a "HMPH!" noise, trying to keep the storm at bay inside of him after the poke. "Say.... You feeling okay Stolas?" Blitzo asked, looking up and down his royal friend, noting just how... Puffy... He looked. "You look a bit... Bloated. You been eating too much rice or something again?" He asked, thinking that the rumor about birds not being able to eat rice was true. "I'm sure I can ring up Moxxie for some antacids or other medical crap like that. He's got so much medical stuff on him and acts so jittery all the time that I'm half wondering if he spends his breaks just using that stuff on himself!" He laughed. "No phank you, I'm quite phine, Blitzo..." Stolas said, his voice muffled by the increasingly intense swirling cyclone inside of him. "Oh my, it seems that I overestimated how long I could contain this tempest inside of my being! I simply cannot hold my super breath in any longer!" Stolas thought frantically to himself as he tried to get away before he quite literally blew a gasket from the pressure brewing inside of him. But alas, it was too late....

With an involuntary exhale from Stolas, Blitzo found himself swept up in a mighty torrent of swirling gale force winds and turbulent grey clouds that carried him and whatever was unlucky enough to not be nailed down in the room tumbling through the mansion as Blitzo cursed up a storm of his own over the roaring winds and thunder before finally coming to a stop as he landed against a wall, the windstorm dying down as soon as it started, paper and feathers fluttering around the room like a surreal snowfall as the couch cushions landed nearby with a resounding "thud", too. Though the clearing dust and storm clouds, he could see the shape of a very embarressed and apologetic looking Stolas. "Cheese and hot sauce, Stolas!" He called out across the room. "When I said you were a gigantic blowhard that one time you wouldn't stop lecturing me about those stupid plants of yours, I didn't mean it like that!" He said with a mixture of surprise, mild frustration, and also mild amusement at the whole situation that just unfolded between the two.

"O-Oh... Sorry about that, Blitzo..." Stolas said sheepishly as he went to go help his friend up and start cleaning up the mess he accidentally caused.

"It's fine..." Blitzo sighed as he dusted himself off. "Just be sure that next time you go out playing hero and stopping storms with your underwear on the outside, be sure you blow next time instead of suck." Blitzo joked. "Oh, and pack some mouthwash or something, too. Just to be safe." He teased, causing Stolas to blush and giggle himself.

#ask #ask blog #asks are open #character: stolas #helluva blitzo #helluva boss #helluva boss art #helluva boss au #helluva boss blitzo #helluva boss fanfiction #short story #character: Blitzo #helluva boss fanart

[aheathen-conceivably]

Hello everyone! As promised I’ve got two scenes from the alternate ending of Rosella and George’s story. I debated shooting these scenes, but unfortunately it would take too much time so I just included a little description of the way that I imagine it looking at the beginning. Plus above is Rosella as she would appear in the 1919 scene, mainly because I love dressing her so much.🌹

I’ll include the actual scenes below the cut, but to summarize the alternate ending, George and Rosella never actually boarded the Titanic at all. It was all a ruse concocted by George to flee her husband and her family, and they actually move to Paris. The first scene here takes place just a few months after they’ve arrived, in late 1912.

From there, they face a turbulent time during the war, as they’re forced to go underground during the bombings and the deteriorating situation in France. However, they emerge from the war to a blossoming art scene that’s sometimes referred to as the “between the wars” artists. George fully embraces her painting and Rosella has a Coco Chanel like plot line as a fashion designer in Paris.

However, this ending actually involves an immense amount of tension between Rosella and George, primarily because Rosella is pressured into lying to her family about their situation. You can see this in both scenes, which culminates in 1919 when Rosella finally returns to Henford, just in time for Zelda’s eighteenth birthday.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, and please have fun imagining the lives that Rosella and Georgiana could have had in Montmarte through the 1920s and the 1930s.

—

Scene 1, Paris, late 1912:

(Image one: Rosella sits on a couch in a small, hastily furnished room. Her hair is unkempt and she’s staring down at a newspaper intensely. The windows in front of her are open with sheer curtains blowing sideways and a silhouette of Paris is seen in the background.)

(Image Two: Closer up of Rosella with George behind her, her hands on Ella’a shoulders. Rosella’s face looks a bit more pained, while George’s looks exasperated.)

The windows were open wide, letting in the scents and sounds from the streets below. It was barely dawn, but they were already crowded and noisy. It was always this way here, always lively and noisy, someone to watch, something to see, somewhere to go.

George heard the rustle of paper from the next room. Before she even put on her dressing gown she already knew what it was, but nonetheless she slid her feet into her slippers and opened the doors into the only other room in their apartment.

Rosella was sitting there on the couch, a single ray of light shining on her bare feet, a newspaper in her hands. George signed, going over to her, “My love, it’s been months, you have to stop reading about it.”

Rosella looked up at her, her green eyes full of sleepless madness as she pointed to a well read section of the newspaper in her hands, “But they published the death list! Surely someone is going to notice that we aren’t on it!”

George sat alongside her, brushing a wild curl back from her face, “Rose, countless unidentified people died on that boat. We agreed that we would never speak to anyone again. This was the only way to escape, to start fresh and be together.”

Rosella began to cry, something that she did nearly every morning now, “But they were meant to think that we were in America! Not dead! My family thinks I’m dead, I can’t live knowing that they think I’m dead!”

George stood, her robe swishing angrily around her ankles, “This is even easier! What! Do you think that we could go back and live there together? Or have told them where we’d gone and Lord Harrington not have followed us to the ends of the earth! We are free now! We are safe!”

George shut the doors to the bedroom just as the rest of the city awoke, Rosella looking back down at the paper and reading over the list of strangers for the countless time since midnight.

—

Scene 2, Henford-On-Bagley, 1919:

(Image 1: Rosella sneaks out of a room while Georgiana sleeps. We can see that the room is still sparsely furnished and Rosella wears a guilty expression as she looks back at George.)

(Image 2: Wide shot of Darlington Cottage with the family through the window and Rosella silhouetted some ways off in the center of the image.)

It had been seven years since Rosella had seen her family. At the beginning, she thought that she wouldn’t make it. She never slept or really ever woke; it was as though she lived in a constant daze where she was no longer the girl that she had always thought she was.

Then the war came, and suddenly there was no worry other than survival. Her family may have considered her dead, but sitting there in the middle of the war zone she feared that she may actually die any day, so she ceased her worries about the lies that had plagued her for almost two years.

But once the fighting ended, the guilt and the pain began eating at her again. She didn’t even know if her father or her brother had made it through the war. For months she had stared at the calendar, looking at the day of Zelda’s 18th birthday in the early months of 1919. Slowly, the strength that Rosella had used for seven years waned to an empty soul.

So early one morning while George was still asleep, Rosella snuck out of their tiny apartment to make the journey back to Henford. Without a doubt, Ella knew that George would have realized where she’d gone, but she didn’t follow her; so Rosella just kept traveling, one train ride and boat trip after another until she was there, standing outside their little cottage like she was nothing but a girl again.

#ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #Darlington extras #rosella darlington extra #georgiana harrington extra

[house-of-no-regrets]

No Regrets [in the wee hours]

Took a bit longer than expected, but I’ve finished the next little story! Hopefully I’ll be able to keep a decent pace on these. No overarching plot, just little stories in the same universe with the same characters. Warning for ~*murder*~ in this one!

-------------

I've been all-too-easy to wake up since I was a child; I'd often needed to go from dead asleep to functional, if groggy, as soon as I heard my father demanding action or attention. While I no longer need that reaction time, the old man long since locked up to rot, my brain is set in its ways and very convinced that I need to be able to bolt out of bed and fight God if a dust bunny moves too quickly in my vicinity.

Which is how I found myself waking up in the middle of the night, the sudden shift in the atmosphere bringing on consciousness with all the subtlety of a foghorn.

My room was silent, still, but I knew without opening my eyes that there was a spirit somewhere, and I didn't even give them a chance to speak before I pointed at the sign posted on my wall, barely shifting from my comfortable snuggle in my blanket and not even opening my eyes. Yes, this happens more often than I care to admit. No, I do not enjoy it. At all.

"Resurrection hours are noon to eight. I'm still alive and still need sleep to function."

There was silence, but the presence didn't leave, so I groaned and raised my head, finally opening my eyes to see the translucent, vaguely glowing, and unfortunately blurry spirit at the foot of my bed.

It did finally speak in a bewildered voice.

"Um, I'm being murdered."

Ah, fuck.

I grabbed my glasses from the bedside table and put them on. The spirit at the foot of my bed was tallish -- I've always been bad at estimating height, maybe half a foot shorter than Yvette? Five-nine... ish? -- and seemed to be in his twenties. There was a considerable dark stain on his chest and belly; likely blood, and the cause of his death. The newly-dead tend to show things like that, as they haven't had the time to get used to modifying their form.

I really hate it when brand new ones find me. I'm not sure how it started, but it seems like more and more often, now, the dead are drawn to No Regrets before they even realize they're dead, at least if they're the type to need my help. Wish I wasn't the one who had to break it to him. I'm not great with people.

"Sorry, bro, but I'm afraid they succeeded. Where was it? I'll get the police over there."

"Uhh... my house. I think. It's a little..."

I sighed. Right.

"You're probably a little out of it still... fresh dead usually are. C'mon, I'll take you around until things look familiar."

Climbing out of bed, I headed over to grab my hoodie from the back of the chair. I learned the hard way that sleeping is not a tits out sort of occasion when you're liable to get the dead dropping in at all hours of the night, so I sleep in pajama pants and a tank top. Little too chilly for tank tops outside, though. I shoved my phone in my hoodie and my feet into loafers, then started heading out of my room and down the hall.

"You remember your name?" I asked, trying to make conversation and learn what I could.

"Uh, Davis. Craig? Craig Davis."

"Well, Craig Davis, I'm sorry to hear about your passing. You're gonna need to possess me for this little adventure, by the way, but I'll walk you through it once we're outside."

"I- what?"

Considering how often I find myself lost in normal conversations, dealing with confused new spirits is especially difficult. Still shaking off my body's angry demands for More Sleep was not helping matters in the slightest, either.

"Possession. I'll explain it in just a minute." I rubbed an eye and yawned as I stopped in the foyer to pull a set of keys off one of the hooks on the wall.

Usually, I've got a driver. Not for vanity reasons, but after three or four near-misses caused by Sudden Spirits appearing in the car with me, I elected to hire someone to drive me into and around town as needed. But it was Fuck-This-Shit O'Clock in the morning, and Graves deserved their rest. The dead don't need to sleep, but they can if they so choose -- and it does, after all, conserve energy. The same goes for Yvette and Ashby; it was too early in the morning for most people to be out and searching for a necromancer to kill, so I wasn't gonna disturb them. I could handle a simple spirit chauffeur and 911 call on my own.

The keys were to the motor scooter; it was the better choice in this situation, allowing for more mobility and no passenger seat for any extra ghosts to drop into. That did, though, mean that Craig would need to ride shotgun in my body.

When I got out to the green scooter in the driveway, I paused and looked over at Craig.

"Hey, I know you're probably still a little out of it, so Possession 101." Script time. At least having this stuff memorized made it easier to do while dozy. "Our bodies need to take up the same space, so c'mere." I beckoned Craig over.

"So like… step into you?" He asked. Good, seemed like his head was clearing up some.

"Yeah, that's part 1."

He nodded and complied, crossing the space between us and settling in the same location, the two of us clipped into each other like bugged NPCs. It always felt so weird, those moments before a spirit actually possesses you. A sort of wobbly, in-and-out feeling like physics is trying to crush you and the spirit together, or, failing that, just kick your ass to the ground so you're not both in the same place at the same time.

"A'ight, now turn around and face the direction I’m facing, and overlay your hands onto mine as best you can." It was just a moment for him to obey, and I continued. "I'm not resisting, so you're gonna start feeling like you're being pulled in and pushed out at the same time. Space is trying to equalize. Let yourself be pulled in. It's gonna feel a bit like-"

The whirlpool effect kicked in before I could finish, the sudden snap and release of tension as Craig's spirit sank into my body. I wobbled a bit and grabbed the handlebar in front of me, then shivered at the sudden chill and dizziness. I'm pretty good at taking on passengers like this, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

"You in there, buddy?" I asked out loud. Especially with new spirits, trying to think at each other was more trouble than it was worth. My lips moved to answer, though it wasn't my voice coming out.

"Uh- yeah. Yeah I'm here."

I grabbed the helmet hanging on the other handlebar and snapped it on, kicking the stand up and plopping heavily onto the seat.

"Great. Let's go."

"Wait, why am I not in control?" came Craig's confused voice. He felt almost frustrated, an undercurrent of emotion that wasn't mine despite being in my mind and body.

"Because this is my body, and I let you in willingly. Easier to keep control when you're letting someone in. Plus," I gave a little snort. "You just died, dude. I've been letting spirits possess me since middle school."

I felt his frustration turn to grumpiness, and then the pressure in my head, like a storm rolling in, that I knew from experience was him trying to take control. I froze and let out an irritated huff.

"You stop that. I'm not dealing with you doing some dumb shit with my body. Either chill out or get out."

"Oh- uh. Just wanted to see if I could…"

"Uh-huh. Anyhow, now that you're together enough to try joyriding, do you remember much about where you were before you were killed?"

I started up the scooter as emotions rolled through my mind, detached and distant, almost like the muffled dissociation I was used to mid-shutdown. Possessing spirits' emotions always felt weird like that, both mine and not mine, held at arm's length. Craig's was especially turbulent for a new death, but given that he had been murdered… I didn't fault him for being a little confused and angry. Even if it did put me a little on edge. 

"Uh- South Pine Street, Dogwood Acres housing development."

"Baller. That's not far from here. Once we get close to your body, you should be able to feel where it is, so I'll have a house number for the police. Don't want to have them scream in all blue lights and loud sirens and have your killer go to ground before they know which house, y'know?"

The muffled flare of anger that I felt was definitely not my own. I took a deep breath, hoped that the killer had panicked and tried to clean up instead of get rid of the body first, and puttered off towards Dogwood.

The housing development was quiet, lines upon lines of identical suburban boxes lit by flickering street lights that cast the sidewalks and yards in harsh white light. The occasional house had the glow of yellow within, but most of them were dormant. Weaving my way through the maze of streets, each one absolutely indistinguishable from the one before and the one to come, I felt terribly exposed -- and alone despite the spirit currently hitching along in my body.

I turned onto South Pine and brought my scooter to a puttering stop, stabilizing it with both feet on the ground. I couldn't help but bounce my legs to replace the vibration of driving; the sudden lack of sensation would ratchet my anxiety up even if I wasn't currently letting a frustrated dead man hang out in my head to catch his murderer.

...I should be more than a little anxious, really, but half-asleep Tabby once again wrote a check that more-awake Tabby is having to cash, and more-awake Tabby is very used to having to deal with the consequences of her idiot decisions. It occurred to me that normal peoples' consequences didn't usually involve murder, but when you live with the dead, you're bound to meet a few killers.

Two houses down, I could feel- not a tug so much as a presence, an echo of Craig's spirit reacting to his body. It was the only one on the street with its lights on and its garage, while not lit, was open. There was a car in the garage, another in the driveway, and a pickup at the curb in front.

"258?" I asked Craig, though I knew the answer already. His anger flared and I felt the oncoming storm again. I snapped at him. "That's two strikes, Craig. I'm sorry for your death, but if you end up driving my body into a crime scene or, god forbid, getting me killed next, I will kick your ass to whatever afterlife you're headed for and stay there to keep kicking it for eternity."

Big words for a short fat lady, but this is, in fact, my body on the line right now. I probably wouldn't be able to follow through on any ass-kicking, but dammit, I would try.

Craig was silent, and I could feel him steaming, petulant like a child denied a toy but with the power of a grown man behind it. With my stomach tying itself in knots and my hands starting to tremble, I dialed 911, hoping it would help quell the rising panic.

"258 South Pine Street. I think there's been a murder. I don't know the state of the crime scene or if the perp is still there, but you might be able to catch them if you hurry. The victim is Craig Davis, white adult male, either shot or stabbed in the chest, likely multiple times-"

"Wait, is this Tabby? The necro girl?"

Oh god I hope that isn't what the operators call me regularly-- I know I'm a bit of a 911 cryptid, since the usual intruder calls are to the non-emergency line, but if I get known as the necro girl I might have to move to a different state.

"Yeah, uh, necromancer, yeah-" I couldn't help but stumble over my words, now, with my train of thought derailed by the interruption. "-uh, murder?"

"Right! I'll send someone."

I murmured a thanks and hung up before she could ask me to stay on the line. I already had to stay around for the cops so Craig could give a statement, and making small talk with the 911 operator was not in the spoons tonight.

I don't like cops much, but in my line of work, they're kind of a necessity. I need to stay on the police force's good side because I need them to remove attempted murderers from my property on the regular. ...and also because graverobbing is still technically illegal, even if I do have the body owner's permission to dig them up.

At least most of the locals who know of me and my employees are chill about it. It took a bit of effort to get to that point, but now at least people don't run screaming from the less-presentable of my employees…

The blue lights of the police showed up fairly quickly, followed almost immediately by the red flashing of EMS. I puttered up slowly and parked my scooter just out of range as the officers set to work surrounding the house, then hung my helmet on a handlebar and walked up the rest of the way to watch the impending train wreck. I could feel Craig's anger boiling higher and tried my best to ignore it; Craig himself seemed to have fallen silent and sullen after I called him out.

"Tabby!"

I was standing just off to the side of the ambulance when someone stepped up behind me and called my name, making me jump and cringe.

"Oh- oh dear, I'm sorry, Tabs. I thought I heard you were the one who called this in!"

I straightened up immediately, face burning. I recognized that voice, bright and smooth and kind and--

"J-Jenna!" My voice was barely a squeak as I turned to face her, looking up at the round, dark face of one of the EMTs. She was a good six feet tall, maybe more, towering above me even in her uniform flats, with a brilliant smile and full lips and gorgeous natural hair pulled through the back of her uniform cap, the streetlight illuminating her from behind like a halogen angel.

Jenna had shown up to one of my early calls for assistance at No Regrets, and then she kept turning up, not every time I was in a situation where I'd be around EMTs, but often.

Concern showed on her face as she leaned to look me over.

"Are you okay? Did you see it happen, or-"

I shook my head, buying time to sort out words by tapping my temple with a finger.

"N-no, I uh- the victim woke me up, he's in here, uh, in case the cops need somethin' from him."

"Oh… are you getting enough sleep, dear? You sound exhausted. Do you want to sit in the back of the truck?"

It took me a second or two to recover from the way she called me dear, my face burning bright red. I couldn't make eye contact even for the second or two I can usually manage so that people don't immediately think I'm being dishonest.

"I- uh- um- w-well, it's, uh, it is like 4am--" I stammered, trying desperately to find words. "I-I guess 'm sleepin' okay, uh, how're… you doing??"

I have never been a great orator and the list of why that is gets a bit longer with every um and stutter.

Jenna's face bloomed into a gorgeous, open grin.

"I'm on 12-hour overnights right now, so I'm basically at least 60 percent Red Bull at any given time. Everyone okay up there at the House? Last I heard y'all were digging up half the lawn.”

I nodded, unable to keep from grinning. At least this was a subject I could talk to her about without making an absolute ass of myself--

"Yeah! The new girl, Chris, she's gotten Daryl and Roy to help her get the vegetable garden going! It's plenty big enough to take care of all of us, and I worked out a deal with the soup kitchen so that they get any of our excess, once things are running smoothly, and I can use their account to buy from that bulk food program that's usually only open to chari- oop-!" I bit my tongue and cringed. Right. I'm pretty sure that's technically fraud and I just admitted to it in front of-

There was a commotion from the house that snapped me back to attention, and the cops were leading a man out in handcuffs. He looked pale and shaken, spattered in blood, and not quite… present, like he had just checked out of reality for his own good. That… was a familiar look. I furrowed my brow. He certainly didn't look like a maniacal killer-

"He caught me with his wife," I said. Well. Craig said. I jumped. Jenna jumped. I flushed and covered my mouth reflexively.

"N-no that was him! The victim!" I squeaked. Jenna laughed, a hearty belly laugh, and covered her own mouth, though she was doing a terrible job of hiding her grin.

"I figured! If he caught you with his wife, it would be an upgrade!"

At this point, you could probably fry an egg on my face. Hell, my glasses were starting to fog up-- I stammered for a few moments, trying desperately to find something to say, and it was Craig who saved me, if you could call it that. I was too caught up in my embarrassment and awkwardness to realize how much anger and frustration he was radiating.

"Motherfucker told me he'd have my job! Son of a bitch thinks he can get away with doing this to me, he's gonna fucking pay--"

The oncoming storm crashed over me before I could get a grip on it, and all of a sudden I was lumbering forward, snarling words that weren't my own, and dragging a gardening pickaxe out of my truck -- Craig's truck -- on my way to the man and the cops--

I let out a shriek, in my own voice, feeling the sound cutting my throat raw. I wrested control of my body back with a lurch, falling on my ass in the yard with the force of it while the silvery-blue form of Craig was ejected from my body, screaming obscenities.

I threw my hand forward, fighting for whatever thoughts and words I could find to fix this. I saw Craig right himself and move back towards me, and the first incantation -- if you could call it that -- that my brain grasped left my lips in a single desperate breath, with a dizzying rush of power--

"INTHENAMEOFTHEMOONIBANISHYOU--!!"

The force of the hurried exorcism rushed outward like a sonic boom, strong enough for even the mundanes around me to feel, and Craig's spirit let out a yowl of rage for a brief second before twisting around itself and collapsing in with a sickening crunch, crushing smaller and smaller until it was gone.

I winced -- not my best exorcism. At all.

As the flare of adrenaline dropped almost immediately and I came back to myself properly, I realized -- blurrily, as my glasses had gotten thrown off somewhere -- at least two officers had their weapons half-drawn at me, though they were looking over at where Craig's spirit had disappeared.

I collapsed the rest of the way onto the grass, shaking, and covered my face with my hands, trying with everything within me not to start crying. I should have realized he'd try something like that, why hadn't I been paying attention- I could have been attacked, I could have been arrested, I could have had to watch myself beat a man to death and I- fuck--

The sob that came out was squeaky and pained, and I pressed my hands harder against my face, like that would stop anything else from going wrong. I should have brought someone-- I shouldn't have let him possess me-- I should have been paying more attention--

Warm tears ran from the corners of my eyes, down my cheeks, to pool in my ears, making my already-trembling body shiver harder with the unpleasant sensation. I'd let myself get complacent, hadn't lost control of a possession like that in years, and- I'd almost- fuck--

"Honey, honey, sit up for me. Tabby? C'mon, let's get you up--"

Numbly, I let Jenna help me into a sitting position, where she wrapped a blanket around me and pressed an open bottle of water into my hands.

"Take slow sips. Are you okay? Just shaken?"

I nodded, some part of me grateful that I couldn't quite see her face properly without my glasses, because I didn't want to see what she thought about me after that. She sighed, though, and sounded relieved when she murmured "Good."

My whole body felt like jelly, trembling so hard I could feel the water in the bottle sloshing around, and I kept flashing from too hot to too cold to too hot again, and I couldn't even sort out my thoughts--

Jenna sat down beside me and rubbed my back. If I wasn't having a complete breakdown, I might have enjoyed it.

I don't know how long it took for me to calm down and clear my head, but the car with the other man had left, and the other EMTs had loaded Craig's body into the ambulance while Jenna sat next to me and made sure I was doing okay.

After a while, though, I blinked and shifted my torso, then opened the blanket more and cursed at the bloom of red on my hoodie.

I heard Jenna curse as well as she stood up, but I grabbed her pants leg.

"N-no, 'm okay," I mumbled, and instead of trying to speak more, I reached to pull my hoodie and tank up my stomach to show bruised, but completely unbroken skin, covered in blood, rivulets following my stretch marks and making it look even worse despite my being otherwise completely uninjured. "See, 'm okay." This was not the first time I've had a possession lead to the dead's cause of death showing on my own body. It wasn't even the bloodiest.

Jenna sat back down, and I could see her leaning in a bit.

"Well damn. Magic ghost stuff, huh?"

I nodded.

"Magic ghost stuff."

I could see the flash of white against dark skin as she grinned.

"So that exorcism… Artemis or Usagi?"

It took me a moment to parse her.question, but all of a sudden I was completely back to myself, just in time to absolutely die of embarrassment.

"L-listen, I- y-you can exorcise i-in anyone's name, i-it's the power and conviction that counts--!!"

"Usagi, then." I could hear the laughter in her voice, laughter that bubbled out moments later. I wanted to crawl in a hole in embarrassment, but- it didn't feel like condescending laughter. I knew what that felt like. She seemed just genuinely amused. "I grew up with Sailor Moon, too."

I couldn't stop the squeak that eaked out, and I covered my face again.

"G-god I hope word about this doesn't get out, people already think I-I'm weird enough, and to- to fall back on anime for magic i-in a pinch is just--"

"Cute," Jenna finished.

I squeaked.

Jenna moved away for a moment, and then she settled my glasses on my nose. I couldn't make eye contact, but I did glance over at her and sheepishly murmur my thanks.

"The officers still want a statement from you, since you made the call and tried to go after the perp, but I don't think they're looking at any charges, given…" Jenna trailed off and looked over at where Craig had disappeared. "...yeah."

I nodded, slowly, and then found myself yawning, the adrenaline drop setting in especially hard.

"...d'you think it can wait 'til tomorrow… 've kinda had a rough night."

"I think they'll be okay with that."

#house of no regrets #no regrets #tabby #jenna #writing #ethical necromancy #necromancer #paranormal #fantasy #magic #writeblr #story #useless lesbian tabby has A Night

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

Never Again || Thomas Shelby x reader

credits to @saralou23​ for the gif

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: “can I request a fic where the reader is found unconscious or faints in the shop or something and tommy freaks out? I just find protective tommy so ❤️💓💟!! Thank you, your writing is absolutely INCREDIBLE” (Thank you so much honeybun, you’re making me blush, pls, forgive me for being late ❤️)

Warnings: swearing, bossy Tommy, basically Tommy freaking out and being overprotective, me always loving him with all of my mangled soul

Author’s notes:

I hope you are okay darlings, I love you, please stay safe ♡

I’m so sorry for being this late, I have no excuses, forgive me. Also the end sucks, but I’m struggling with my writing lately, so, sorry again.

I love protective Thomas so much, he’s an ass, but he’s a softie, and I’m gonna lose my mind some day.

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham’s gelid air hit your sensitive skin with no mercy as soon as your red mary-janes crossed the doorway of the Garrison, only to disgracefully sink into the greyish muddy loam in which the whole of Small Heath seemed to be covered.

Your fingers felt like rigid appendages burdening your already wearied arms, while you tried your best to wrap them around your coat’s edges, in a disperate effort to keep that warm tissue on your bulging clavicles left exposed by the woollen dress you were wearing. No matter how many heavy clothes you decided to put on, that implacable cold still succeeded in making you feel constantly out of forces, debilitated to the core; it had always been that way, since you were nothing more than a little girl obliged to spend one every two months confined in your bedroom, afflicted by incredibly high fever and sometimes even bronchitis.

Truth was that your body had never got used to England’s humid weather, yet, even though you poor healt had previously put you in danger, for your sake, thanks to the enormous progresses made by medicine in the past fifteen years, it was now easy to fight against the ruthless chill of those endless winters. Plus, since the earliest days of your attendence, your wardrobe had been perpetually refreshed with high-quality pieces perfectly in step with the times, for your fiancée had been literally covering you in furs and duvets of all kinds, concerned as he was that you could’ve eventually caught another bad fever, whose deathly consequences he had already experienced on his own thick skin. And for no reason in the world he would’ve even risked to lose you too.

So, as everybody could’ve easily predicted, Thomas was perennially paying attention to your wellbeing: the most famous specialists from inside and outside the United Kingdom had come directly to your country house; if one thing could be taken for granted, it was that your medications would always be settled on your side cabinet, together with a glass of fresh water, every day and every night; and, come hell or high water, he would accompany you during your routine visits to the hospital, even when it meant leaving all of his business without any prior warning.

Needless to say, you were perfectly able to do those things on your own -pheraps except for getting a crowd of world renowned doctors in your living room- and you sure as hell had tried to persuade him that there was no need at all for being so preoccupied all the time; still, he was Tommy Shelby, he simply couldn’t help it. 

The concern for his loved ones’ lives kept stealing his sleep, even on those nights when there was no trace of imminent dangers on the horizon, it kept excoriating the insides of his drained brains, to the point that, more than once, you’d had to sleep alone in your immense king-size bed or reach for him in his study, curling up on one of his uncomfortable armchairs, ready to appease his fears as best you could. In short, for as much as you needed him to relax, you were still able to understand his protective behavior, against which, as a matter of fact, no one could do much; thus you at least tried not to give him more reasons to be worried by paying some extra attention to all those small things you could solve without Tommy even knowing about it. Regularly taking your iron tablets, for example. Nonetheless, it had now been already a week since the Peaky Blinders had started a brand new business involving in effect every metalworking factory in and around Birmingham, and the whole family, you and Tom included, had been so turbulently tied up with work to let every other thought and need slither on the back burner. As a direct consequence, your doctor’s latest prescription was unfortunately left lying on the bottom of your drawer, that being the fourth day in a row you’d spent without taking those pills, and, even though everything appeared to be going well until then, that one Thursday morning your period eventually came and stroke the fatal blow, having you feel so faint and aching that, all of a sudden, the few metres separating your side of the street from the betting shop seemed to implausibly dilate right under your blurred vision, a vexing sense of nausea assaulting your empty stomach led you to lean against a lamppost, your skin still crawling beneath all those heavy tissues.  Dizziness and lethargy almost took over your sore mind, before you shook your head with an abrupt move in a bid to dispel those unpleasent sensations; clients would’ve arrived in less than a hour, Esme had taken John’s kids on a brief fieldtrip, Michael was already in his office, the boys were making their usual rounds of the mills, Finn and Isaiah were dealing with a couple folks in need back at the Garrison and Polly was nowhere in sight, which made you the only available blinder for the opening and, with Friday’s race approaching, there was no way the box-office could remain shut. Hence, more determined than ever, you chocked down the knot forming in your throat due to queasiness and just forced youself to put one foot in front of the other onto the dusty road, until you reached the shop door, not without the risk of tripping over multiple times in the process. Your frozen fingers clutched to the small side-wall now carring all of your weight, whilst your lungs tried to let in as much air as possible. And it worked, each plodding breath seemed to fight your sickness, also your heartbeat was gradually slowing down, thus you shut your eyelids and continued to inhale deeply for a full minute, before your trembilng hand managed to finally turn the key in the lock, giving you free access to the place. 

However, the small click produced by the latch closing again did not live to reach your ears, for they were already brimful of ominous hisses, in a scant moment a bulk of hypnotic grey worms prevented you from seeing anything else, they relentlessly squirmed in front of your dilated pupils, that repulsing view sending brutal shooks straight to your clenched stomach, again. And, before you even had a chance to realize what was going on, your brain completely blacked out.

                                                    ~ ~ ~

Words would not be sufficient to describe the fright taking over Arthur’s features the second your inert silhouette entered his line of sight. Just returned from their daily patrol, he had indeed noticed a small crowd waiting outside the office, cursing and fussing because of the lacked opening, and that alone had been weird enough for him to punch and kick his way up to the entrance, profanities spilling from his mustached mouth every time somebody’s elbow digged into his ribcage, inducing him to hit back so to stand his ground, only to eventually find himself powerless in front of that ghastly scene. It took him a while to recover from the shock, yet the eldest Shelby eventually regained control of his limbs and moved towards your shape with a single step.

“Polly! Pol, come here, for God’s sake!” Those hoarse yells filled the room, reverberating through the brickwalls, so loud that they could’ve been heard from the other side of the city, Arthur fell on his knees right beside you, gently placing a hand under your nape in order to lift your head. Blind panic streaming in his veins kept him for thinking clearly, he didn’t know what to do, thus he simply shook you from your shoulders, hoping in vain to see your eyes fly back open, but your neck just bent backwards.

“Where the hell is that bloody woman when I need her?!” he grunted those words in between his teeth while tigthening his grip on you, then his chest raised in a sharp move: “Jesus Christ, Polly!” He shouted once more, this time conveying all of his breath and blood towards his larynx, his abrasive voice shriveled and insisted on the last letters of his aunt’s name, until swift strides frantically hit the creaking steps, announcing Polly’s arrive. Her eyes struggled to remain open, her left palm was pressed against her forehead in a silly attempt to soothe the tremendous headache resulted from the previous night’s booze, she didn’t even have the time to put proper clothing on, since her mad niece was apparentely going berserk. “You, son of a bastard-” cursed words died underneath her tongue when she understood what was going on, soon her feet took on a life of their own, as they picked up their peace, leading her next to your body now held in Arthur’s arms.

“She’s freezing, Pol, she’s a fucking chunk of ice!” Hiccoughs shattered his worried cries, he almost whined, shifting his gaze from yours to Polly’s face over and over again, she, on the other hand, used the whole lenght of her right arm to clear in one smooth motion the closest desk. “Quick, lay her here” The deafening noise produced by those items colliding with the pavement barely grazed her hears, whilst she nodded to herself in the effort to impose some order on her obfuscated head, searching for a prompt solution that was late in coming, to the point that Finn beat it to the draw and stormed in, pointing a loaded gun to each corner of the room with fear in his cerulean irises. “What the hell’s going on?” That hysterical question echoed through the place, even though the young boy was finding it hard to get his breath, due to the crazy run he had made to reach the shop immediately after hearing that insane screaming. Nonetheless, in the space of an instant, he saw you as well and fell utterly silent, violent dismay caught him off guard, his wide eyes hesitated on your motionless figure; all of a sudden he didn’t know what to think, nor he could get the thought of your death out of his brains.

“My God, she’s as pale as death” Finn let his mind talk through that throttled murmur, regretting it right away, for silty goosebumps crawled on his skin under the pungent pressure of his brother’s instantaneous lethal glare. “Don’t talk shit, kid! Just fucking go and get Tom!”

The redhead didn’t waste any time, he somehow managed to recollect his guts and steadily disappeared behind the door previously left open. While struggling for air and internally searching for the right words to say in front of Thomas, Finn covered the whole distance between the office and the Garrison. Labored gasps coming out of his slightly parted lips in louder groans as he slammed the heavy pub’s doors open, using only his strongest shoulder; both Harry and Isaiah watched him run towards the back room where Tommy was going through the books, they did not dare spill a word and, after all, the boy didn’t even look in their direction, such was his concentration. Still, once he reached the place, all of a sudden his tongue felt dry, his well-organised speech faded away.

“Finn?! What’s wrong?” Tom’s icy eyes were now staring at him through his round glasses, the paper he’d been reading was instantly dropped, although his tone remained steady. “Y-you need to come, now! She... she’s-” A frown formed upon Tommy’s marble face at his little brother’s furious rambling, something wasn’t right, that was crystal clear, yet he wasn’t able to keep up with those hasty and stuttered sentences, so he approached him, putting both his hands on Finn’s shoulders in order to give him a little shove and maybe get some decent information. “Breathe, kid, and tell me what’s going on” That deep, adamant tone somehow sounded scarier than usual roaring inside the boy’s head, hence anxiety definitively won him over, gaining complete control of his mouth too. “It’s Y/n! I don’t fucking know, Tom, s-she looks dead!” All at once, time and space seemed to collapse around him, one single second dilated, covering the space of a whole lifetime beyond his vacant blue irises now fixed on an undetermined spot of the white wall behind Finn’s back.   A gruesome, yet familiar sensation raided his petrified body, it felt like having a beast’s fangs gnawing his throat off, lacerating his flesh to the bone, he could sense every little laceration, his chest being plundered, till even his sable heart was eradicated and then mauled. A strangled wheeze barely lived through his plump lips, that being the only sound he uttered, then his black pupils shrinked and immediately twitched, nailing his sibiling’s gaze. Without receiving an order from his brain, his fists violently gripped Finn’s jacket at the height of his biceps, bringing him a span away from his gnashed teeth with a sharp pull. “Where?” He snarled liked a rabid dog, striking, if possible, geater terror in the young man who struggled to spit an almost inaudible “The shop”, before being shoved against the doorframe as Tommy dodged him and rushed out.

                                                     ~ ~ ~

Polly held the bottle of her almond parfume she’d just put under your nostrils as if her life depended on it, Arthur’s rough palm, instead, began to pat your pasty cheek. “C’mon, love, wake up! Don’t play games, c’mon!” The dorsum of that same hand now poking the left side of your face, and then going back to the other, at incredible speed. You started to feel your face again when his nudges grew in intensity, until he was practically slapping you; soon a tremendous metallic taste invaded your mouth, or rather, you finally sensed it, whilst your eyelids battled against gravity to get back up. Arthur noticed it, he detected that brief flinch and it felt like being pampered with a fresh breeze after days of unsustainable heat. “Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a stroke” His tone held extreme urgency as he grasped for air, tugging with two fingers at his shirt collar; sure, he was great at knocking people off, maybe the best, yet, unfortunately, after that he’d never tried to bring somenody back with the living.

Blinding light rended your shrouded eyes, everything appeared blurred to the point that you couldn’t distinguish Polly’s features, although she was right beside you; nor your hearing was working, since the loud thud produced by the wooden door hitting the brickwall, and then your name barked by your fiancée’s coarse voice, sounded muffled to your ears. With a superhuman effort you succeeded in tilting your face towards the entrance, you recognized the navy-blue suit Thomas had chosen to wear earlier in the moring, still those nebulous images reached your brains with extreme delay, it was like watching vague movie scenes stream in slow motion. Your eyelids blinked as if a plumbeous burden was anchored to them, each flutter seemed to last a full minute, so that you perceived Tom coming to you in multiple shattered motions, while he kept calling you. The moment Tommy furiously jostled against Arthur, in order to take his place by the desk, you gradually went back to see and hear clearly, now being able to seize pure dread sailing those mesmerizing ocean eyes. “Thank goodness, y/n” His big palms envelopped both your cheeks, slightly squeezing them as he lift your neck, revealing all of his hidden delicacy that you, and you only, were able to bring out. “Y/n, love, talk to me” That order came out like a prayer, his voice betraying him once too often, his fingers shaking with worry, while one of his hands held your chin and the other went to caress your locks. Those loving strokes brushed against your skin, slowly infusing a little warmth into your gelid body, he touched you with the unbearable fear of watching you pass away in between his arms, having him struggle to breathe properly. “Do you hear me?” a single, salty drop fell from his long eyelashes and poured your lower lip, you heard his voice crack, distorting, until it became nothing more than a faint whine: “Please, love, talk to me” When his forehead pressed against yours, he finally gave in to the tears that had been held back with drastic ostination, shutting his eyes for a few instants he allowed brutal sobs to trounce his already aching chest. However, that moment of raw weakness was soon restrained, so that you returned to stare into his blue irises. Then, a small grin crossed your pale mouth and, even though your throat felt like gasoline on fire, preventing you from pronouncing a single syllable, you managed to guide your tiny hand to cup his sharp cheekbone. A burning kiss was pressed on its dorsum, before Tommy completely leant into your touch, giving you a look halfway between relief and disperation, he covered your hand with his own, holding it tight. “You’re okay, you’re safe” Those soft murmurs escaped his lips, probably aimed to placate the axphyziating terror still intoxicating his veins. Indeed, as hard as it was to conceive for everybody in that room, although you were the one just recovering from a sudden collapse, Tommy was now the one trembling like a fallen leaf, his arms rested on each side of your shape, sustaining his weight, as he barely stood on his own two feet. Slowly, you regained the necessary strenght to lift your bust, leading him to flutter in your direction, promptly enlacing his forearms around your waist in order to support your movements. “Hold onto me, darling, take it slow” His raspy voice was still unsteady and full of concern, he was holding his breath out of fear, gazing at you with wide eyes and tightening the grip on your hips as if to make sure that you wouldn’t vanish in his palms. You, on the other hand, gave him a rassuring smile, caressing his face mutliple times and placing a brief kiss on his mouth. “I’m fine, Tommy, I’m here with you” you eventually spoke close to his ear so to keep that conversation between the two of you “Let go, my love, I’m here” Your lips accidentally brushed against his forehead once he listened to you and abandoned himself to your tender embrace, gradually drowning into your soft chest while his arms clung on to your figure, his fingertips almost piercing the thick material of your dress as your cheek covered his head, totally annihilating the distance. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Never again”.

tag list: @spidey-pal​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @stassaurus​​, @peachlle​, @livvtheangel​, @myjbphase​, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest​, @vxxn128​, @keithseabrook27​, @spaghettirogers​​, @writingstudent​​, @hp-hogwartsexpress , @eggingamazinglove​, @geeksareunique​, @cailoleaf​, @simonsbluee​ , @hereforsmutandfluff​, @starxtt​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @staygold-bebold​, @marvelschriss​, @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders preference #peaky blinders headcanon #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby smut #alfie solomons #john shelby #michael gray #arthur shelby #finn shelby #isaiah jesus #ada shelby #polly gray #bonnie gold #tommy shelby one shot

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Here is the first one

Second :D

And last..he's looking at you 👀💦

ALRIGHT you know WHAT—

There’s…a lot going on here. So much so, that I have decided to create

CONTEXT

for these three images that is

COMPLETELY FAKE

because I think it’ll be a fun writing exercise. kind of a cringe move on my part, but consider: i have fun making up ridiculous lies about characters who don’t exist in real life.

(which is how I’m treating these, by the way. yes, they are pictures of kaneko nobuaki, but for my purposes, they are NOT actually him. they are distinct fictional characters who are not real.)

so if you’re feeling adventurous skip below the cut and watch me break it down:

Image 1: Accidental “Date” Makes Cousin’s Wedding Less Terrible Than Originally Expected

The year is 1999. Your cousin (who you are not particularly close to) is getting married…on a cruise ship. Your mother insists you attend. You insist upon spending 90% of your time sipping margaritas on the deck and flipping through the latest issue of Marie Claire while trying desperately not to think about the fact that you are surrounded by nothing but open ocean.

One of the (very drunk) bridesmaids tries to toss you a beach ball because you have been, and I quote: like, a total bummer this whole time. She misses. It hits the person next to you in the face. Great. Awesome. You think: well now who’s being, like, a total bummer?

Luckily the person who got hit in the face laughs the entire thing off. He says your friends seem…’lively.’ You say that’s pretty rich coming from a guy who looks like a rejected member of ‘The Clash.’ He insists that he left them, not the other way around.

You slip into conversation. You tell him that you’re here for a wedding. He offers his condolences. You accept them. He says he actually likes weddings—something about two people making a life-changing commitment speaks to him on a soul-level. That and the open bar, of course.

You suggest he crash the wedding. He says he’s not sure if he can make it—there’s a shuffleboard tournament that evening that he would just hate to miss, plus the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest is waiting on his bedside table just begging to be opened. You say that’s perfectly understandable, but, if he suddenly finds himself caught up on the latest All My Children gossip, he can meet you back here at four.

Surprise, surprise: he shows up. He’s wearing the same shirt he was before, but buttoned up this time—and with one of the most hideous neckties you’ve ever seen, which he apparently borrowed from the kind old man next door. Instead of complimenting his attire (because it is truly un-compliment-able), you take the opportunity to mention that this is a Titanic-themed wedding. He says that having a Titanic-themed wedding on a cruise ship is “kind of fucked up” and you solemnly agree.

Everyone is very surprised and pleased to see that you’ve brought a date—even the bride, who tells you that you’re “just like Jack and Rose.” You agree, much to her delight…until you say that, if the ship goes down, you also won’t share the door and let him freeze to death in the icy water. He insists he’d be the guy who jumps off the ship and hits his leg on the propellor—that’s his favorite part of the whole movie, and it’d be an honor to re-enact the scene.

The wedding is…a wedding. Vows, toasts, pictures—and you’re sipping champagne through the entire thing. The two of you spend the evening getting completely wasted and telling everyone a different story about just who your ‘mystery date’ is. Highlights include: the captain’s unruly son whose been tasked with following in his father’s sea-faring footsteps; professional cave-diver who discovered a new species of slug and is spending his reward money on a nice vacation; head of marketing who gives all those clever names to the nail polishes at OPI; the guy who folds everyone’s towels into animal shapes.

You end up where you started: on neighboring lounge chairs, with a margarita, and talking to this stranger who has recently crossed into “acquaintance” territory. You chat about how “My Heart Will Go On” is actually a good song, and he promises not to tell anyone that you said that. He also says that this is the best Titanic-themed cruise ship wedding he’s ever been to, and he can’t wait until somebody decides to do Jaws.

Eventually, you both stagger back to your rooms with promises of seeing each other at breakfast. Unfortunately, you have the worst hangover of your life the next morning and even the thought of ‘breakfast’ makes you want to roll over and die, so you don’t manage to stumble out of bed until it’s time to disembark.

You see him at port, and you each offer each other a little wave before going your separate ways. Six weeks later, you get a Polaroid of the two of you together, sitting at the bar and laughing at something that must have been very, very hilarious.

You don’t remember most of what happened that night, but you remember it was not as terrible as it could have been.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 2: Extremely Weird Guy On The Street Has You Questioning Your Sanity

It’s 6:00 in the morning—a truly terrible time to be awake, but a necessary evil. Your flight leaves at 10, and since it’s an international thing, you want to make sure you get there in plenty of time to get to your gate (and maybe sample all the fancy perfumes you can’t afford at one of those high-end stores that are always in airports.)

The streets are mostly empty, save for a few random pedestrians and a handful of passed-out salarymen snoozing on the curb. The sky a rainy gray-blue as the sun tries to rise behind the springtime cloud cover—it’s no doubt going to be another dismal day, as is common during this time of year. Hopefully there’s not too much turbulence on your flight…

You stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the little walking man signal to show up on the light across the way. You’re soon joined by another person—a man in a soft-looking jacket who supplies you with a small “good morning” bob of his head. You respond in kind, throwing in a small smile for good measure. It’s nice that he too understands that it’s entirely too early to be having any kind of conversation, even if it is just a simple verbal greeting between strangers on a street corner.

The light changes, and you both begin your trek across the street. Your fellow walker is faster than you—or, more likely, has longer legs and, ergo, a longer stride than your own—and is nearly halfway across by the time you get your wheeled suitcase over the curb. He seems decent enough. You hope he’s going somewhere nice.

It’s then that you make the mistake of looking up. It would have been much better if you had just continued watching the white painted lines on the road and thinking about how it reminds you of piano keys—and how you hated the six months of piano lessons your parents forced you to take in the first grade.

But no. You noticed someone walking towards you, and you just had to look up.

The first thing you notice is a rainbow tie-dye shirt. The second thing you notice is that the rainbow tie-dye shirt is on a very cheerful looking gentleman, who seemed to be bobbing his head in time with a song only he could hear.

The third thing you notice—and this one’s the real kicker—is the large blue-and-green reptile sitting on his shoulder. It’s bulging eyes are hooded in pleasure as it’s red-pink tongue darts out to eat the green something—maybe a grape or a small piece of melon?—from the rainbow tie-dye man’s hand. It is nothing short of a spectacle, honestly, and you feel a piece of your sanity evaporate.

The rainbow tie-dye man continues on, uncaring of your confused stare at his strange pet. You even turn around to make sure that you weren’t somehow hallucinating, and sure enough, there is definitely some kind of creature draped over this stranger’s shoulder. It’s tail even sways in time with the man’s steps, which is both cute and confusing.

Because it would not do to stand in the middle of the street all day, considering the existence of rainbow tie-dye man and his exotic pet, you do the only thing you can do: turn back around and continue on your journey. You need a coffee. Maybe with an extra shot of espresso, after witnessing whatever the hell that was. Something to set you right again.

“Was that…?”

The other man—the soft-coat long-stride one—is speaking low enough as to not draw attention, but loud enough for you to hear as you make your way towards the sidewalk. His expression reads ‘concerned, but trying not to show it’ which you suppose is the polite and mature way of handling the situation.

“…an iguana? Yeah,” you answer him, “I saw it too.”

The man’s brow furrows. His mouth puckers into a small frown as he considers…well, something.

“…Okay, then,” he concludes, shrugging his shoulders, “Hell of a way to start the day.”

“Yeah.”

And you both continue on your way. He turns left at the next intersection, you turn right—but even though your paths may now be different, you will forever share an unbreakable bond over the fantastical sight you’ve witnessed today.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 3: Near Death Experience At Open Mic Night

You are not a poet.

Well, not professionally, anyways. You’ve been known to dabble in the written word, often scribbling little snippets of rhyme in a notebook over your lunch break or tapping a verse or two into the notes app on your phone. It a kind of outlet, you suppose—a way to keep the creative energy that bubbles inside of you from boiling over.

It’s also worth mentioning that you are not a confident public speaker. Not since that unfortunate incident in the third grade where you forgot the single line you had in the school play and ran off stage, tears streaming down your face and—actually, no, you’re not going to think about that right now. Or ever again, hopefully.

So when your (tipsy) coworkers decide that it’s a good idea to push you onto the stage at the local dive bar’s open mic night—while shouting at you to “read the one about the night-blooming jasmine”—you freeze up. There are at least seven strangers staring at you, expectation rising with every passing second of your inaction. It’s nerve-wracking in the way that the third-grade incident was not, and you gulp against the nervousness that rises in your throat.

Shaking hands scroll frantically through your phone, looking for the requested poem—and after a few agonizing moments, you manage to find it. Your voice cracks rather embarrassingly as you begin to read, trying your damndest to get the words out right so you can slink back to the bar and drown the rest of the night in Chardonnay.

Everything is going well—or, at least, as well as can be expected—until you notice that the room is suddenly feeling very hot. That’s the last coherent thought you have before the room goes dark and everything falls silent.

Next thing you know, you’re staring at the ceiling. A man who you do not know is leaning over you, and his mouth is moving—oh, he’s probably trying to say something to you, but it’s very difficult to tell what he’s saying over the throbbing pain in the back of your head.

You ask him if you’re dead. It’s a possibility after all, that you’ve somehow died and landed yourself in some kind of special public-speaking hell. That’s what this feels like, anyways.

The man says no, you are not dead. You say ‘dammit’ in response. He tries to hold back laughter, offering to help you up by extending his hand. You take it and—ouch, ugh, ew, going from laying to standing is not a fun experience.

You thank him (albeit awkwardly) for helping you up, and he insists that ‘it’s cool.’ Passing out in front of an audience is not even remotely cool, but you nod and thank him again, anyways.

Before you’re able to converse with the helpful stranger any further, your coworkers have come to collect you. You are whisked away by someone from accounting, who offers to escort you home—an offer you gladly accept, very excited to leave the site of your failure behind you.

Safe to say, you never go back to that particular bar again.

#writings and such #thought you’d get me with a thirst post WELL I JUST THREW DOWN AN UNO REVERSE CARD BAYBEEEEE #‘he’s looking at you’ YOU TRYNA MAKE ME BLUSH CUZ ITS WORKIN OKAY??? #fun fact: the second one was inspired by MULTIPLE real-life events #can’t wait to wake up tomorrow morning and regret this <3

[usernoneexistent]

So, a situation has happened. @oneirataxia-girl sent a message ‘You know it’s a tradition to answer every of Meg’s questions’ for the OC ask and as I was making a response, dumb me accidentally pressed the post button and then out of panic I deleted it. Now I feel like more of an idiot that I could simply edit it or save it drafts or make it private whatever so here is an alternative. This will be a ridiculously long post so here it is. I’m sorry I lost the message but I accept the challenge. I will skip some questions as I’ve already answered them in a previous post.

1. What's MCs favorite subject and why?

Charms just for the reason that she is good at it and is one of the few things that she likes that inherited from her dad plus her paternal grandmother was once a professorial (Wandless) duellist.

2. What does MC think about dragons?

Loves them but not to the same extent as Charlie Weasley does.

3. Did MC get the permission slip for Hogsmeade from the parents without any problems?

Juniper just asked her mum and she signed it without any problems. 

4. Butter beer or pumpkin juice?

Butterbeer, it makes her feel older and mature (even though she isn’t lol)

5. Does MC sleep with a stuff toy?

Not anymore no but when she was younger she had an ugly, green toy rabbit that she got as a gift from Jacob. 

6. Sandwiches or Soup?

Sandwiches as a kid but she heading more into the soup direction.

7. Who does your MC hate the most?

R, since they dragged Jacob, Juniper and the rest into a whole conspiracy on top of losing her closest friend because of R.

8. What is MC’s weakness?

Juniper’s greatest weakness is her loyalty. She likes to understand and see what a person has been through and believes that most people can be good so she often tries to befriend almost everyone she meets which can be exploited. 

9. What is MC’s opinion on magical creatures?

Absolutely loves them and loves to learn and interact with them. 

10. Angel or Devil?

Juniper would be an angel for the main fact that she is very good natured despite having moments of pettiness and vengeance.

11. Pessimistic or Optimistic?

Juniper leans more on the optimistic side of the spectrum but over the years at Hogwarts it slides over to the pessimistic side.

12. Which house does MC find chill?

Gryffindor

13. Selfish or sharing?

Depends on the context, in terms of herself she doesn’t share any details of her life to others but also if they need her help she’s always there. However she is also very stubborn and kinda has a tendency to do her thing so maybe more selfish.

14. How does MC eat kit kat? breaking the sticks or eating it as a whole?

Unfortunately, Juniper would eat it like a normal human being and breaks the sticks to but she would share it.

15. What is MC’s element?

It’s air because air can be quiet and gentle but it can also be dangerous and turbulent just like Juniper. 

16. Does MC have a part-time job for money?

No, she doesn’t need to worry about money, her father’s side of the family are quite rich.

18. Does your MC like Rowan?

Yes she does (platonically), what even kind of question is that. Rowan was Juniper’s first ever friend of her own age and was the few people she fully let into her life, like her family situation and how she truly feels about them and her guilt with the cursed vaults and Jacob.

19. Who does MC have a platonic relationship?

Bill Weasley. During Hogwarts he was a brother figure, pretty much the Jacob she wanted and after Hogwarts they ended working together in Egypt. They turn to each other when it comes to love advise and are there for each other when one of them is heartbroken and rejoice when one of them finds love again. Juniper was upset that didn’t make it to Bill’s wedding cause she would totally be his other best man and Juniper would make Bill her bridesmaid at hers. 

20. Who’s your MC’s non-NPC bestie? Any other MC?

Juniper is just recently made friends with Alvina and Hana.

22. What is MC’s blood status?

Juniper’s maternal grandmother was a half blood while her father’s side is pureblood which makes her technically a half-blood.

23. How is MC’s relationship with their family?

It’s complicated so lets break it down.

Jacob (brother): Perhaps the best relationship she has with her family. She admires Jacob and sees him as her hero. She was hurt when he disappeared and felt betrayed since he left only a year after their dad left. When Juniper finds Jacob again, she was so relieved that he was alive and that her quest was not in vain. When he disappeared, Juniper was less forgiving that time. They still argue a lot but she also bails him out many times.

Jalil Hasni (father): Juniper really doesn’t like her father, she views him as a traitor to the family because when Jacob got expelled, Jalil felt that Jacob brought dishonour to the family and left to work in Algeria. She also struggles with her identity as people have pointed out that they very similar, in their explosive temperament to their ambitious nature but Juniper refuses to accept that they are similar and often ends resenting those parts about her.

Julia Moss (mother): Juniper has a very emotionally sensitive relationship with her mum. She always had the sense that Julia preferred Jacob over Juniper and when both Jalil left and Jacob disappeared within a year span, it caused Julia to fall into a deep depression and when Juniper said she wanted to be with dad, it spiralled Julia into deeper despair. This caused Juniper to feel tremendous guilt and they ended up just tiptoeing around, constantly worried they would say the wrong thing leaving them emotionally distant to each other.

25. What is MC favourite magical creature?

Nifflers

Okay so, I have been working on this for about a day and decided that I will split this into 4 parts, just to ease the workload. 

#hphm mc asks #hogwarts mystery oc #juniper moss #hphm jacob #rowan khanna #bill weasley #alvina arcane-zheng #ywa hana #nifflers #long post #this is only part 1

[commander-chaoss]

🌸🌼☀️🌈 for Nick, Neo, and Joe

🌸 What's this OCs favorite, and least favorite color?

Nick: she'll probably tell you something like black because she INSISTS that she's an edgy emo. She is not. She's just kinda edgy. In her defense she's 13 she gets to be. Once she gets through that phase I feel like she's the type to not be able to choose one color, but instead tell you a color combo she likes. So if you ask an older her, probably orange and purple.

Neo: Neo has no favorite color (what is he, five?) and if you ask him he'll probably just stare at you judgementally for a second and then keep talking like you never said anything.

Joe: red. He's a simple man and "red's a classic"

🌼 What's your favorite thing about this OC?

Nick: I feel like she's a bit of a more realistic depiction of kids this age than we usually see. Not that kids can't be mature for their age (I mean, this very story features a kid who is also 13 at the start and much more mature than Nick) and it's nice to see the variety and just, let kids be kids instead of making them think they have to grow up as soon as there's a "teen" on the end of their age. Plus, she's based on a close friend and that's always fun.

Neo: his name probably lol. Unfortunately Neo isn't a super present character he's more of the offscreen force, so we don't get to know him too much. But his name was something that my brain just...assigned to him lol. And I liked it cause it wasn't expected. Plus now whenever he introduces himself people can ask "like the Matrix?" No, not like the Matrix. It was his first.

I just think it's funny.

Joe: Joe is just a really nice guy and that's like 70% of his character. He owns a convenience store, won the lottery, but decided that he likes his life so he continues to live modestly, but now gets to be more generous. He's very happy, and there isn't a single character in this story who doesn't like him lol

☀️ Does this OC make good or bad first impressions?

Nick: Well that would depend on your definition of good or bad impressions. I am of the opinion that the best first impressions are the ones that best represent you, not get the person to like you. Cause if they like you because you were being professional right then, and you aren't usually, it's not a very good first impression, is it? It's misleading, actually.

So by this standard a good first impression is one that accurately represents yourself, and yes, she is good at that. And no, she can't introduce herself as anything else.

Neo: Being the CEO of a major company, he's very very good at it and has spent years manipulating his image. In fact, he's so good at it, that no one really even knows what he's like apart from Scorpio. I'm not sure he even knows.

Joe: everyone likes Joe (see 🌼 lol)

🌈 What does this OC like and dislike about themselves?

Nick: Nick is, unsurprisingly, very turbulent in her identity right now. She's barely outside of her preteen years and everything is difficult right now. Whether she likes herself at all varies from moment to moment, swinging back and forth like a metronome.

Neo: Neo will do what he must. He will cheat and bribe and kill to protect what's his. This is what he prides himself on. This is why he's the boss, because he has what it takes to be. Simply put, Neo has resigned himself to the morally broken life he's deemed necessary to get as far as he has, and thinks it a virtue.

Joe: Joe has lived a good full life. Full of mishaps and full of love. He may think himself a gross old man sometimes but he can't think of anyone else he'd rather have grown to be.

#thanks for the ask! #Nexus #OCs #My OCs #OC ask game #My writing

[kotoplasm]

inner turbulence

summary: hinata shoyo is an empathetic person. he didn’t need to go through pain to understand another person’s pain. all he needed to understand was perspective. and that was all there was to it.

in japan, the legal age that entitles a person to enter the mafia was unknown. all that was known was once you were recruited, any past experiences, memories and relationships were all lost once you started training.

unlike most, hinata was lucky. most of his friends were already accustomed to the culture so the cutting of other relationships didn’t feel like such a heavy burden.

all he needed to understand was that in some instances, two wrongs do make a right. and in his case, that came in the form of bloodshed.

it’s twelve am in the country he’s returning from.

the last station had been a false alarm so their journey of three days had been for nought. besides from the odd stares for his brightly coloured hair and unexpected optimism, the assignment hadn’t been too taxing, just a few checkups here and there - he wouldn’t even be on this vehicle if it weren’t for miya’s laziness and tendency to take full advantage of the seniority role.

“it’s tradition to make the newbie take all the assignments at first for a week.” he could see the sympathetic glances from his other teammates and clearly this was a regular occurrence.

he’s forcing his eyes to remain awake despite the unholy hour it was, letting his thumb scroll through countless socials and trying to still submerge himself into his previous life, one that wasn’t filled with so many abnormalities and secrets.

if he concentrates long enough, sometimes he can still hear his sister nagging him for leaving without any further notice, leaving his mother distraught. it makes his heart heavy with emotions he doesn’t particularly enjoy experiencing nor speaking too much about but he knew there wasn’t anything he could do about that.

it’s ten minutes past 3 when he finally dozes off, the phone slipping out of the grip of his fingertips slightly and resting comfortably in his palms. with the position he was sleeping in, there was no doubt that he’ll have to find time to stretch all his limbs out. 

ten minutes then twenty minutes go by before his phone vibrates. the sound is deep and hollow but ten seconds follow after that, the sound reverberating in his ears.

it takes five vibrations for hinata to wake up, brushing away the particles of sleep that had accumulated, telling him that his body had finally managed to rest.

miya atsumu: yer awake?

miya atsumu: oi

miya atsumu: i know yer ignorin’ me

miya atsumu: at least respond!

miya atsumu: answer the phone dammit!

if he wasn’t so tired, he would have scowled. following on from that, he would have preferred to ignore the message but seeing as miya didn’t look to be stepping down from texting him, it didn’t look like the conversation would die down anytime soon.

hinata shoyo: it’s 3am

miya atsumu: and it’s midday in japan. time zones exist

hinata’s lips pull into a pout. if you know that, then why are you even texting me at this time.

hinata shoyo: what is it?

miya atsumu: well i can’t discuss it over the phone cos of security issues and that but we’ve got another assignment

what?

hinata shoyo: wdym another assignment? i haven’t even gotten enough rest from this current one!

miya atsumu: well take that up with meian not me.

he knows that it was most likely atsumu who convinced meian to administer this mission not the other way around.

hinata shoyo: when is it?

miya atsumu: twenty-first of june

of all days? assignments would usually take a few hours or possibly a few days; hence why sleep was such an important thing to have if you were doing them back to back. on the plus side, the longer assignments were usually worth a lot more money since not everyone was willing to take them on.

unfortunately miya atsumu wasn’t “everyone” so he brought any new assignment to meian who administers and arbitrates it, resulting in the four of them (i.e. bokuto and sakusa if he was feeling up for it) to set off and complete the task.

on the rare occasion that the assignment could not be completed, a supplementary team would be sent out - something which atsumu never took pride in because it didn’t sit right with him that another person was completing something that he wanted to do initially.

despite being in a group together, they were already ahearsed with his tendencies, hence why they don’t even question his bad mood when they’ve failed their mission.

hinata dozes off after sending another message to miya, briefly telling him that he'll think it over after he returns to the main quarters.

+

+

+

“i hope you’ve been eating properly.” the voice his mother makes is stern and fixed. he wasn’t expecting a call from her at this time, especially since he left without saying goodbye. she was forgiving, but that forgiveness could only get you so far…

hinata replies with a sound that was followed by a breath of relief coming from the other line. “i haven’t changed anything about my diet. just added some more protein and increased my calories by a small amount. nothing too alarming.”

“that’s… good.” it goes silent for a few minutes before she clears her throat. he’s old enough to know that there was something wrong. there was a certain tone that she would take; mannerisms that she would often hint at to let you know that something was bothering her. 

natsu wasn’t old enough to understand but when their mother was in this state, any slight tremor could set her off.

“well, i’ve got to unpack my things now so i’ll talk to you soon.” he hopes that’s enough to ward her away. his teeth bite the inner flesh of his cheek. was she satisfied? he hates the idea of treading on eggshells around her but hates lying to her even more.

“yes, i suppose that does take some concentration. i’ll call you again later in the week shoyo. me and natsuo miss you.” don’t say that. “she won’t say it but she misses not having you there to play volleyball with.” please don’t say anything else. “we love you.”

“i love you too.” the line cuts as he discards his phone into the pile of clothes waiting to be folded and put into his wardrobe. saying those three words gets harder every time he has to hear them. hearing those three words gets harder because he knows that she’ll break if he stops saying them.

hinata questions the reason why he decided to work for the mafia.

was it because of the money? the danger? the thrill of becoming a criminal of society? no. it definitely wasn’t any of those reasons. because if you asked anyone here if they were happy, they would struggle to answer truthfully knowing what they knew now.

perhaps that’s why miya lost the spark in his eyes the last time he saw him those few years ago or how bokuto seems less chirpier than usual or why sakusa seems so mellow as opposed to his usual level of aloofness.

as he’s packing away his belongings into their respective slots and drawers, a knock at the door reaches his ears. an infamous splash of blonde catches his peripheral and the ginger is quick to shout a “come in” to allow him to enter.

miya is sporting a black turtleneck and a matching pair of straight leg jeans. out of respect, he removes his shoes to reveal the grey socks that stopped briefly before his ankle.

taking the vacant spot on his bed, he releases a breath of relief.

“so how was the mission?”

“not very eventful. they made a mistake with the request so we still get the money but they’re currently sending out a notice to meian to let him know about the error,” hinata shrugs.

“is that so?” the relaxed tone of his voice irritated hinata for some reason. “anyway, i still need to get yer up to speed with the new assignment.”

“ahh you mean the one that you said you couldn’t tell me about at three o’clock in the morning.”

“how many times do i need to tell yer that it was an honest mistake shoyo?” he hisses. “can we talk about that later though? i still need to explain the details.”

hinata nods, letting miya relax once again.

“okay so i went on an expedition with bokuto a few days ago in regards to a rumour i heard a while back.”

“you mean the one about the daughter of the man that runs that big fire armoury? i thought she died after going missing? isn’t that what the report said?”

“yer really think she died?”  miya asks. “because something about that report didn’t sit right with me.”

hinata frowns. “but you’re always saying that and most of the time there isn’t anything wrong.”

“bokuto thought the same actually. he didn’t read through it all but he noticed there was something odd about the dates they wrote down.” hinata turns to hear the sound of papers being ruffled around, looking at the beige coloured file containing a few miscellaneous sheets, held together by a few staples. “turn to the third page. and read out the first two dates.”

the three dates he recalled were said in the following order: “date of birth, 27th december 1996; date of first recorded absence, 20th august 2010; date of recorded death, 23rd december, 2010.” *the dates look normal to me.

“anything weird about those dates?” miya asks to which hinata shakes his head, confused. “that’s what i thought initially until i gave it to bokuto a week ago. he thinks someone tampered with the dates.”

with that, he looks at the report once more, staring at the black print for a straight minute or so until his head pops up like a recoiled spring. 

“yeah you’re right! it used to say august instead of december!” he points out. “but why is that significant?”

this idiot notices one small detail and doesn’t even understand the significance behind it? atsumu thinks to himself, narrowing his eyes.

“well don’t yer think it’s odd that her death was recorded just three days after her first absence? in fact, the person must’ve been missing for about six months before they can put it down as a death. only issue is that the paperwork gets really annoying to fill out.” he grimaces. just the thought of all those sheets to sign, read through and tick seemed too tiring for him. 

“really? i didn’t know that!”

‘course you didn’t.

“yeah it was something sakusa actually told me during our lunch break. so i brought it up with meian and he said that we could investigate and report any findings.”

“well did you find anything?”

“nothing. even took a train to the north to check but we didn’t find anything,” he sighs. “so we came back to tokyo and decided to treat ourselves with a drink at this club i recently found. they offer shows at night provided that you book in advance.”

“why is any of that important?” says hinata who was aware of the infamous club he was talking about. the one that their head nurse hated because of how uncomfortable the men at that place made her feel. judging from the face of disgust that she made, he could only imagine how horrid the place must be.

“well whilst we were wallowing in self-pity, one of the waitresses caught my eye.” miya smirks and tells him to turn to the first page.

he looks at the picture of the supposedly dead girl. “what’s so special about the photo?” apart from the poor quality of the images, his eyes catch onto the family photo of four individuals, the girl in question standing in the middle.

he doesn’t remember seeing a family photo that looked so hostile.

“every member of that family is identified by this specific tattoo. i don’t know why it’s necessary but whilst that waitress was cleaning, i noticed that she also had a tattoo on the lower side of her navel.”

“that doesn’t sound like a decent thing to do.”

“i didn’t stare okay! it was just a glance. but it looked really similar so i got to thinking and started comparing the image. they looked very very similar.”

miya continues to explain his findings to hinata as he cleans up his room. the conversation lasts for around ten more minutes until he’s finished folding away his clothes and miya is satisfied with what he has to say. compared to other missions, this one seemed like one that he was extremely persistent about completing, the reason unknown to him.

when he feels the bed dip, miya looks at hinata.

“so what do yer think? does it sound cool?”

he shrugs. “i don’t know. just sounds off to me that we’re going to kidnap someone and give them away for some leverage.”

“it’s just something you’ll have to get used to shoyo. things like this are normal.”

he doesn’t reply. instead he flops onto his bed, rubbing strands of his hair away from his face to stare at his ceiling. is this what the mafia was about? getting innocents involved in dark business? treating people like objects? was this something that seemed like fun to him?

conclusion: he couldn’t think of one, to say. says that it’s because his mind wasn’t in that “proper mindset.” [2.2k]

#[ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔ ~ myworks] #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! #haikyuu scenarios #hinata fluff #hinata angst #haikyuu fluff #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo x reader

[qiankunfics]

KunTen Masterlist Part 3

AO3

1. La danse des masques (The dance of the masks) by skymoonlight

Summary:  A month full of balls that all the princes had to attend and, to make it worse, Kun had to host them all in the palace, being forced to endure that odious Thai prince who seemed to enjoy making his life miserable. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

2. Turbulence, and then none by pyakpyaknation

Summary: Soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you are written on your wrist and while A has an absolutely unhelpful 'Hey' written on them, B has something very unique and weird. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

3. hearts like drums by lovelight (Delenaley)

Summary: Ten's completely and utterly fucked, he can't even confess without straight up insulting his crush. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

4.  must cry out loud by andnowforyaya

Summary: He wanted to shake himself apart. In pieces, maybe it wouldn't hurt as much. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

5. Boxing Day by violetpeche

Summary: Christmas: for all the superficial, capitalist hell it stood for now, Kun rather liked that time of year. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

6. yesterday, today, and until the end of the world by rowenabane

Summary: He is still searching, though. He won’t stop until he finds it. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

7. Come Back (Nightmare) by NovemberSuns

Summary: After disappearing for four years, Ten comes crashing back into Kun’s life. Kun doesn’t know what to make of this stranger he once called his best friend. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

8. needlepoint by fairyslush

Summary: in which ten is a fashion designer, and he decides to embroider their little family of four onto his neurosurgeon husband's labcoat. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

9. flavour you by mikararinna

Summary:  Ten sacrifices his staff meal for a chance at an Americano, Kun waits for Ten to bring in his favourite flavour. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

10.  go the distance (a new chapter with u) by borntovixx

Summary: Alternatively: YouTube chef Kun shows off his boyfriend to his followers. Rating: General  Status: One-Shot

11. ursa major by lowkeyamen

Summary: "It's a star map." Ten let out a little breathy laugh; it was pretty obvious Kun had no idea what this was. "It's a snapshot of what the sky looked like the night you first told me you loved me." Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

12. Family Planning by eggboyksoo

Summary: Starting a family is hard. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot Trigger: unaccepting family of teen pregnancy?

13. not even you could destroy your shine by jeannedarc

Summary: Kun closed his eyes and prayed for something exciting to happen to him. Anything. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

14. people say (we're so weird) by sayounarahitori

Summary: In which some WayV members know more than they'd like, some know less, and nobody has a crush on Ten, okay. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

15. Stamped by Lertsek

Summary: There is one soul mark in particular that Ten treasures, one that appeared when he passed the audition to train under SM Entertainment. It's that of a little dancer, looking up, face not visible but hands in the air, ready to jump. Rating: Mature  Status: One-Shot

16. The Retreat by andnowforyaya

Summary: Kun begrudgingly attends a week-long relaxation retreat at his friend (and business partner) Johnny's behest. There, he meets Ten. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

17. You have weird taste by princessgongjunim (MyOwnCharacterInEverything)

Summary: In an universe where you can taste what your soulmate is eating.  Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

18. in limine by florulentae

Summary: Kun goes to sleep in New York and wakes up in Madrid. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

19.  A Lotus in Bloom by Crucified_To_A_Star

Summary: Ten is the Mogwai that bought Kun's soul; set to protect and elevate him until the contract's time runs out, by any means necessary. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

20. Happy Home by taeyongseo

Summary: Kun is doing just fine on his own. Being a single father at age twenty-one isn't easy, but he has the lines of his life clearly drawn. That is, until Ten comes in and blurs them all. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

21. come and find me by sayounarahitori

Summary: Ten comes home. Rating: General  Status: One-Shot

22. to the moon and back by staryukhei

Summary: ten is a good parent. he just can't say no. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

23. You Get Me Closer to God by dustysadderdaze

Summary: There was nothing Ten adored more than defiling angels. Rating: Explicit  Status: One-Shot 

24. No Manners by SenpaiJecho

Summary: “You’re such a fucking asshole” Kun murmured against Ten’s skin, his hands wandering all over his body, desperate, needy. He was furious with him for fucking him up but, at the same time, he wanted to consume him completely. Rating: Explicit  Status: One-Shot  Trigger: Cheating

25. 家 (jiā) by moonfleur

Summary: “Missed you,” is all he says and Kun smiles, all knowing and more than a little fond. Ten sighs, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to control the shaking in his voice. “Miss you all actually.” Rating: Teen  Status: One-Shot

26. It Starts with a Wish by nu-exo (Nekohime)

Summary: The man lowered himself to a knee before Ten, reaching out a hand to tip Ten’s chin up with a finger. “You ask for a lot, little prince. You have a dragon’s hunger.” Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

27.  The Anatomy of Change by vinylcherry

Summary: Kun and Ten meet at three points in their life, but circumstance always seems to pull them apart. Will this time be any different? Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

28.  silk and snakeskin by fairyslush

Summary:  ten is a lamia who eats the hearts of those who love him. kun is a reaper who collects the souls of the devoured. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

29.  to lost by mikararinna

Summary: It was initially Ten's idea to go on a road trip, Kun was just there to execute it. He didn't really expect to get lost in the middle of it. But it was better than losing each other. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

30. Exit Strategy by cobalamincosel

Summary: That is until a stranger named Ten makes his way into Kun's oasis and suddenly, Kun doesn't have only himself to worry about anymore. Rating: Teen Status: One-shot  Triggers: Zombies

31. Tease by dojaefairy

Summary: Ten looks at him and briefly considers answering “dick”. Rating: Explicit  Status: One-Shot

32.  heaven is a place on earth (with you) by storytimewithme6

Summary: a look into kunten's married life. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

33. Face to Face by winterofouryouth

Summary: Ten had been thinking about it for a long time but his thoughts had been extra loud lately. He didn't know why, but something about the stale heat inside the tent and Kun's slow breathing next to him made him feel like this was the right moment. Rating: General  Status: One-Shot

34. That's What Friends Do by tensfilm

Summary: “We were just cuddling.” Rating: General  Status: One-Shot

35. now or never now by sayounarahitori

Summary: Ten can always be too much, but today is a new high even for him, especially considering Kun is live on instagram. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

36. face to face by andnowforyaya

Summary:  Ten said, "Sir's traveling. He couldn't make it back in time for me. Of course I'm a little sad, but he promised he'll make it up to me. Plus, I've got all of you to keep me company, right? And since you're here, I should be good to you, too." Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

37. prayer from an angel by seolay (speos)

Summary: Kun is a succubus who doesn’t want to seduce humans for food. In the process of finding other ways to survive, he alerts the attention of an angel who might be willing to help. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

38. Elbow Rub by speckledsolanaceae

Summary: Qian Kun has bumped into you! the app announced, and Ten tapped the notification on impulse. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

39. In The Morning by devinemoon

Summary: On a Sunday morning, with the sun kissing his loved one’s skin he realizes he loves him. And he wants to stay like that forever. Based on “Kissing in cars” by Pierce The veil. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

40. the bigger the hoops, the bigger the hoe by johnrens

Summary: kun got dragged out to the club when he’d rather not be there, but the man with the hoop earrings from across the club changes his night for the better... Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

41.  same deep water as me by sayounarahitori

Summary: Kun cared too much. Ten, unfortunately, cared even more. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

42. creation myth by madhoney

Summary: Kun’s eyes narrowed as he watched Ten float through the soiree. He moved like fluid, drenching everything and everyone in his path with hunger – not that anyone present needed any further persuading before succumbing to the haze of lust that clouded the expansive villa. Rating: Explicit Status: One-shot

43. let me help you by loudqueen

Summary: Sometimes it got too much for Ten to handle, and sometimes he couldn’t get out. But Kun always managed to guide him through it all. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot Trigger: Mentions of depression

44. annoying is kind of my type by aprofessorstale

Summary: Ten and Kun are baristas at a cafe and they can't stop insulting each other because they definitely have crushes they don't want to admit to. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

45. The Crimson Flower by muffincollection

Summary: Ten, a rich businessman is sent to the city with little income to ‘teach him a lesson.’ Upon his job search, he meets a young and philosophical artist Kun— who is more than displeased of his presence. Rating: Mature Status: One-shot

46.  the seven ways i love you (and the seven ways it kills me)

Summary: Ten and Kun have a high risk of dying any second, but that won’t stop them from making each other’s lives impossible. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

47. Perfect Little Family by oonymay

Summary: In which Kun and Ten find a crying child in a forest and naturally decide that raising it in secret is the best option. And therein begins a battle with languages, the meaning of home and feelings. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

48. Ten, Kun, and the Cat by thesunflowerchild

Summary: “No, Kun, he’s my son!” Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

49. instagram? by mooniesuhs

Summary: “What if we made an Instagram for Louis and Bella?” Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

50. i take care of an eldritch creature w my bf (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!!) [1080p]

Summary: four times yangyang almost reveals himself as an eldritch creature (and two times he definitely does) Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

#kunten #kun #qian kun #masterlist #part 3

[atomicfilm]

what do you think of INFPxINTP?

Note: when I use the term relationships I don’t only mean romantic ones. 

Also, all types can make it work if they’re willing to. INTPs in particular tend to collect diverse people to keep themselves entertained with multiple perspectives. 

You can skip to the “What I Like” section at the bottom if you want to as it functions as a summary. 

In my opinion, most of my closest friends and family are INFPs. This is a pairing I really like for the most part. I think intellectually, INTPs and INFPs are quite similar, although INFPs approach problems in a way that INTPs often find to be quite annoying which is that they are often very biased towards one outcome, even if it’s not very logical, because they are sentimental towards it. This sensitivity is not in itself a bad quality and I often admire it, except it can spell trouble for INFPs if they rely too much on their heart's desires. I find this typically leads them into a lot of toxic relationships and eventually, they have so many that they tend to abstain from relationships completely for long periods of time. I don’t know many other INTPs, but I abstain from relationships because someone isn’t the right fit for me and I can tell it’s going to go south very early on. INFPs, unfortunately, tend to ignore too many red flags and often end up heartbroken. They’re not to blame, the world is just crueler than they want it to be and they tend to get caught up in daydreams. 

WHAT I DON’T LIKE: 

A few things that annoy me about INFPs is that sometimes they rely on me too much. My mother, for example, asks my opinion on everything. Should I buy this house? Should I make this career move? Should I date this person? Should I go to this church? Should I purchase this car? Ect. ect. She asks me every possible question she can for my opinion and then if I tell it to her, she usually ends up ignoring it anyway. We both annoy each other in that we’re both very flaky when it comes to decision making. She’s flaky in that she doesn’t really care if a decision makes sense. For example, right now she is trying to start a coaching business and wanted my help choosing which seminars she should make. She wanted to do something along the lines of  “How to be Your Authentic Self” and I said that was fine but people were likely only going to buy such classes if she taught them how to make money from it or improve their relationships. It had to have an end goal, or most people wouldn’t see the point. 

Because of this, I believe she doesn’t really like my advice style. It’s often too blunt and I won’t fake my support if I don’t agree with something. In return, I expect the same. However, when I am supportive, you know it’s genuine and I personally make sure to make it obvious that I’m proud of people. 

 I’m flaky in that I tend to make a decision from the beginning and then alter it as I go along and am provided with new information, which can also be a source of frustration for INFPs at times, even if they are the same way. INFPs tend to be more of follower types whereas INTPs are truly independent and don’t really want to boss people around. The phrase “that’s your decision to make” will likely come up often.

If you’re searching for a lot of emotional comfort, INTPs aren’t often your best bet. If you’re sad, you can likely expect someone awkwardly patting you on your back and trying to find you a blanket or comfort food. Sweet words of encouragement will only come with practice. This is Fe, Fe can be developed and in my case, I’ve put in the work on it because I think in terms of social standing, Fe is the easiest way to improve myself. Oddly enough, I learned the most about Fe from mimicking a peculiar ENTP because handling emotions is a very foreign process to me, despite being surrounded by feelers. I’m not sure what people expect from me unless they tell me. 

From the INFP perspective, they give and give and give and give. And they do, they usually are extremely generous people, whether it be with their time, money, or emotions. An INFP may become frustrated if they do not feel like their efforts are being returned in full. This is a high expectation for INTPs who usually do whatever they want to when they want to. That being said, sometimes INFPs can be selfish when it comes to listening to my problems because they don’t expect me to need their comfort. My dog is currently in surgery and it’s possible she might die. When we were at the hospital, the only thing my mom said was “this is going to be expensive” and I was the one bawling uncontrollably. With INTPs, when Fi hits, it’s something we really don’t know how to cope with very well so we get overwhelmed and INFPs, despite all of their empathy, aren’t so good with Fe. She did manage to cheer me up by saying Jesus in Czech over and over again in really ridiculous ways so I wouldn’t call her a lost cause, I just wanted her to be crying with me in that moment. Also, INFPs can kind of dominate conversations when it comes to talking about how you BOTH are doing, but I think this is because most people leave them deeply unsatisfied attention-wise.

Anxious INFPs ruin me. I cannot handle your anxiety on top of my anxiety. Give me a moment to decide my next move. Don’t ask me what it is. I’ll say it when it’s developed. 

Unhealthy INFPs are also extremely sensitive and turbulent. I would say the only type as toxic as an unhealthy INFP is an unhealthy ENFP. They become moody and a strange mix of aggression, manipulation, and self-focused. A lot of that comes from Fi. Unhealthy INTPs become complete ghosts. They flicker out of existence. Depression tends to be a major issue in both types. 

WHAT I DO LIKE: 

I love INFPs because they’re one of the few types that understand what INTPs need. Yes, they are demanding emotionally and there are bound to be complications because of that, but for the most part they’re worth it. They make me feel something and at their best, they are some of the most idealistic, moral, creative, and cheerleader-like personalities. They show up. Where most people won’t come through, they will, except in areas that don’t align with their passions. They may be flighty or reclusive at times, but they make up for it by having high Ne and teaching INTPs about how to be a generally good person. INTPs at their worst detach from their compassion and their emotional side and a healthy level of correction to this instinct is much needed by the INTP from the INFP. I would say INFPs also need INTPs to some extent to guide them. Also, while INFPs have low Te, Te is something I admire because it’s nice for getting a different perspective. And gosh diddly darn it, have you ever met someone with Ne who wasn’t hilarious? 

Generally speaking, I think ISFPs, ISFJs, INFJs, INFPs, and ENTPs all are the best pairings for INTPs as friends. I like ENFPs a lot too, but I always have toxic relationships with them that involve a lot of fights. Fights with INFPs tend to either absolutely never happen (one of my best friends is an INFP and I haven’t fought with her once in the past 4 yrs.) or if they happen they go something like this: 

INTP:  I don’t like you very much.

INFP: FINE, I DON’T LOVE YOU, I’M NEVER GOING TO TALK TO YOU.

INTP: I was joking.

INFP: STOP TALKING TO ME.

INTP: Yeah, okay, I’m sorry, that wasn’t a good joke, I love you.

INFP, 5 minutes later: Okay, I’ve cooled down, I love you too.

It’s usually INTPs who instigate and then INFPs escalate it. INTPs aren’t usually intentionally fighting with people so those kinds of fights end in a few minutes. 

I think INTPs will fall for any INFP quickly, and that will probably make them uncomfortable. An INTP may not want to pursue a romantic relationship with an INFP if they think it will become overly emotional, which it’s quite possible it will. But the good thing is that once an INTP commits to something, they are unlikely to give up on it easily and this is a source of comfort to INFPs. Plus, INFPs (and also ISFPs) are skilled at drawing out the INTP’s soft side which they secretly like. 

 I would say that as long as it’s healthy, an INFP x INTP relationship is one of the most beautiful and long-lasting of them all. The most important thing to focus on here would be communicating your feelings often and directly, but also providing the INTP with a bit of help. Tell them why you feel this way, whether you like this feeling, and what you would like for them to do. They may not be able to pick up on that on their own unless you have known each other for years. Also, to appease the INTP, try to find a common intellectual pursuit, even if it’s something as simple as listening to NPR in the car together or making a two-person book club. While INFPs aren’t really boring per se, they can become dull if they don’t stimulate the INTP’s brain enough and focus too much on small talk, routine obsessions, or debating with obviously biased information. 

#infp #intp #infp x intp #intp x infp

[misssquidtracy]

The Sweet Smell of Manly Pride

Written as part of @gumnut-logic SensorySunday: Smell. Set just before the boys re-enter Earth’s atmosphere in the Zero-XL after rescuing Jeff from the Oort Cloud. Being stranded in deep space for eight years without even a can of deodorant must have left the Tracy patriarch smelling pretty ripe xD.

Raw humour. Sorry not sorry.

Starring Gordon, because he’s the husband and I loves him <3

-x-

Gordon’s tolerance for body odour was surprisingly high.

It had to be.

Considering the aquanaut spent a good portion of his life two to three thousand meters below the ocean’s surface, he’d become intimately familiar with a variety of fruity nasal cocktails. His habit of skipping showers in favour of re-watching seasons one through twelve of Into the Unknown didn’t help either.

Eh, what the heck. Being sandwiched inside a tight suit and at the mercy of Thunderbird Four’s air conditioning would leave even the most fastidious person smelling a little ripe.

Plus, it wasn’t like Lady Penelope could smell him at the bottom of the South Sandwich Trench anyway.

Of course, there was body odour and then there was body odour.

“Eugh!” Gordon clamped a hand over his nose and glared accusingly at his brothers, “Okay, who just let loose?”

Four pairs of eyes locked onto Alan, who quacked in outrage.

“Why are you all looking at me? I’m trapped inside a pressurised suit over here!” the youngest snapped, his face the same colour as Thunderbird Three.

“We all are, Alan,” John countered, his eyes narrowing to turquoise slits, “Gordon, can you be a bit more specific? An unpleasant odour could be an indication that the charcoal filter needs replacing.”

Gordon elevated his nose and began to scent the air like a bloodhound, “Whatever it is, it’s pretty nasty. Seriously, am I the only one getting it?”

Over on Alan’s right, Scott shrugged, “Apparently. Care to elaborate on what exactly ‘nasty’ smells like?”

On guard in case anyone dared to throw the ‘he who smelt it dealt it’ line at him, Gordon spent the next three minutes offering a variety of olfactory diagnoses for the unknown smell. The options ranged from ‘donkey’s armpit’ and ‘skunk’s butt’, to perhaps the most insulting of all, ‘Virgil’s socks’.

Of course, Virgil was thoroughly offended.

Just when had Gordon sniffed his socks?

He would never sleep again.

“Ugh, man! It’s getting worse!” Gordon wheezed, wafting the air frantically with his hand, “Alan, how long until we’re home?”

“About forty minutes, depending on turbulence,” Alan replied, absently flicking a button on the dash, “I’ve just requested clearance from orbital patrol.”

Gordon’s eyes widened in alarm, “I won’t last that long. John, can you pull up my will? There are a few things I need to change before I become unsound of mind.”

While John was preoccupied with ignoring Gordon in favour of cataloguing a few nearby asteroids, a new voice piped up.

“What you’re smelling is me, Gordon. Sorry for the trouble, but there ain’t a whole lot I can do about it at the moment.”

Virgil sighed before throwing a playful glance over his shoulder, “Dad, you just sit back and relax. I swear, we can’t smell a thing.”

Gordon begged to differ. After unclipping his safety belt, the aquanaut pushed himself free from his seat and drifted over towards his father. Indeed, the stink intensified the closer he got.

“Ugh, dad!” Gordon turned his face away before pinching his nose, “You reek! When was the last time you had a shower?!”

Jeff’s blue eyes twinkled in humour, “About eight years ago. Unfortunately the Oort Cloud doesn’t offer its residents indoor plumbing. Reckon I went noseblind after the first five months,” Jeff smiled as he extended his arms above his head in a fake stretch, “On a scale of one to ten, how bad would you rate me, son?”

“Thirty!” Gordon gagged, groping desperately for the oxygen masks the Zero-XL was equipped with, “Seriously dad, I’m amazed you’re not the epicentre of a fully functioning ecosystem!”

Jeff smiled proudly, “Jeff Tracy Vintage, available at select stores only,” the Tracy patriarch hesitated for a second before offering Gordon his armpit, “Take a whiff, son. It’ll put hair on your chest.”

Scott shared a look of amusement with John, Virgil and Alan as their father snaked an arm out and yanked Gordon in for a hug. The aquanaut made a sound of muffled distress as he whacked fruitlessly at the arms enveloping him.

“Careful, Gordo,” Virgil warned with a laugh, “We just got him back, don’t break him yet.”

Gordon made no indication he’d even heard Virgil, his energy focussed on trying to escape the noxious grip he was imprisoned in.

“Seriously, I can’t smell anything,” John declared, sticking his nose in the air and sniffing for emphasis, “It must have something to do with the direction of the air circulation.”

Brains adjusted his glasses before swivelling to face Jeff, “I must say I’m incredibly p-proud of your suit’s durability, M-Mr Tracy. It managed to keep you warm in the Oort Cloud’s f-freezing temperatures for over eight years and hasn’t suffered any m-major damage aside from the t-tear on your thigh.”

Jeff inclined his head in gratitude, “You build things to last, Brains. I knew my suit wouldn’t give up until I did.”

Enveloped in the stinky wonderland that was Jeff’s armpit, Gordon felt very much like giving up.

“You done teasing your old man yet?” Jeff asked, affectionately rubbing his knuckles across the aquanaut’s scalp, “Because we’ve still got thirty minutes of flight time remaining if you haven’t.”

“Please!” Gordon begged, his tone pitiful, “At least let me amend my will!”

Jeff was about to reply with something smart about Gordon’s lack of valuable possessions, but was stopped by a weird smell assaulting his nose, “Hold up, something pongs around here. Gordon? Have you been forgetting to floss?”

Almost on cue, a can of easy cheese rolled out of the storage compartment above Gordon’s empty seat and clattered onto the floor. The aquanaut’s caramel eyes widened as an idea hit him.

“No dad, I take great pride in my oral hygiene,” Gordon replied, twisting his face towards Jeff and taking extra care to exaggerate his a’s and h’s.

“Eugh, Gordon! Your breath!” Jeff rasped, holding his son at an arm’s length before glaring accusingly at the can of cheese rolling innocuously past John’s foot, “Don’t tell me you still eat that junk?”

“It’s his go-to deep space snack,” Alan informed, “If you think the cheese breath is bad, wait until the cheese farts start coming. We’ll all be amending our wills if one of those escapes.”

Jeff grimaced as Gordon blew in his face, “Maybe we should confine him to the airlock for the remainder of the flight. Brains? Can we rig up a safety belt in there for him?”

“I’m s-sure I can organise something,” Brains replied, before unclipping himself and drifting towards the rear hatch, “J-John, could you kindly give me a hand?”

“F.A.B,” the redhead replied, freeing himself from his shoulder restraints and floating across the control deck, “Dad, you get Gordon inside. I’ll help Brains stabilise the door.”

With Gordon tucked under his arm like a roll of carpet, Jeff nodded and pulled himself through the airlock’s doorway. He was just preparing to release his hold on the aquanaut when the door suddenly slammed shut.

“John?” Jeff called, his brows knitting together in confusion, “Brains? Open up! You locked me in as well, you fools!”

Back at the helm, Scott shared a look of relief with Virgil, “Ah, thank goodness. I couldn’t have kept that up for much longer.”

“Tell me about it,” Virgil muttered, reaching into the compartment above his head and retrieving a can of air freshener, “Things were going so well until Gordon opened his mouth.”

“It was the right thing,” John exclaimed, pointedly ignoring the bangs and screams that were starting to emanate from the sealed airlock, “Dad may be medically stable, but we won’t know the exact state of his mental health until we’re back home. Until then, it would be wise to refrain from making direct comments about his physical state.”

“Agreed,” Alan replied, before twisting around to gaze in amusement at the airlock door, “Think they’ll be okay in there?”

“Of course,” Virgil replied, popping the top off the air freshener and spraying a liberal amount around the chair Jeff had been sat in, “What better way to bond after eight years of being apart than being locked in an eight foot by eight foot airtight room together?”

John cringed as he made the final preparations for the Zero-XL’s atmospheric re-entry, “I think I’ll stick to a catch up over coffee.”

-x-

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds tag #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #john tracy #jeff tracy

[jackkellison]

Web marketing strategy and Planning: The Road Map

Many small to medium sized businesses face a typical struggle; a joggling act of plans, strategies, departments and decisions. Each of the elements are present, every one of the gears in condition, but business isn't exactly booming with the pace it had anticipated or forecasted for. Precisely what does this growth and sustainability require? In the turbulent economy teeming with congested airwaves and aggressive business practices, it's about standing up for from the crowd. And surprisingly,jacques groenewald marketing online strategy offers quite a bit more details on it than you could possibly realize.

Conflicted business people can overcome everyone and draw absolutely free themes that are suitable for their product by executing an exceptional online marketing strategy, not by yelling louder than their competitors or using neon banners on their own storefront (or banners on your website). My point is, you don't have to be throwing yourself too much there with a lot of noise constantly. What you should do is paint an image for the business, your workers, along with your customers. Make promises that no-one but you will keep, and after that blow the offending articles together with your admirable businesses practices and superhuman skills.

Spend some time to consider this: web marketing strategy will be the most powerful take into account determining the prosperity or deterioration of a business. This is a pretty substantial claim for prepared to prove its legitimacy. Online marketing strategy distributes itself throughout all the issues with an enterprise, whether intended by its creator or otherwise not. You could do this for the reason that approach is created and determined by the complete objectives of a specific business, and integrates these objectives which has a company's unique vision and mission. Basically, every degree of an enterprise ought to be oozing web marketing strategy. Really!

Marketing Strategy

Will it seem far-fetched? Let's examine the relationship between marketing strategy and 4 key facets of service repair shop: market research, the marketing plan, corporate identity, and also the economy. First, let's get the formalities taken care of and set forth a definitive explanation products online strategy turns out to be. After scouring several websites to the official definition, I settled on a less-official but more effective description of selling strategy:

Web marketing strategy: A strategy that integrates an organization's marketing goals in a cohesive whole. Ideally drawn from general market trends, it focuses on the optimal product mix to attain maximum potential profit. The marketing strategy is defined outside an advertising and marketing plan.

While your marketing strategy is, essentially, a document; its purpose can appear far more load bearing. Included in the strategy ought to be your mission statement and business goals, a complete set of your merchandise and services, a characterization or description of your respective target clients, as well as a clear definition of how you integrate to the competitive landscape of one's industry.

Web marketing strategy v. Market Research

This relationship establishes an investment of operations: the 1st phase in any marketing or branding initiative is research. (See our white paper about this subject: General market trends for SMB's). Regardless of the scope of your respective research, whether it is an extensive canvassing of your current client list or unveiling specific, detailed findings concerning your marketplace, the end result have a direct effect on your marketing strategy. It's fundamental to find out everything about which you making the effort to reach. What generation is he in? How large are their own families? Where will they live, eat, and out? How can they spend their leisure time and money? Doing this information will influence modify your online strategy.

Research alone will not likely benefit your company with out a solid web marketing strategy. Often, business owners narrowly define market research as the collection and organization of information for business purposes. Although that's technically a definative definition, the emphasis lies but not on the process of research itself, though the impact it commands on future decisions regarding all numbers of a business. Watch decision presents different, unique needs for information, and also this information then shapes a suitable and applicable online marketing strategy.

Research can be quite a grueling, confusing, and tedious process. From establishing or cleansing a database to cooking surveys and conducting interviews, you could get a lot of information about your clients and prospective clients and wonder how to handle it next. Before beginning to formulate a strategy, the info and data collected have to be organized, processed, analyzed, and stored. Be confident, after a little creativity and lots of effort, this may be molded into a structured, effective, and just adaptable online strategy. Furthermore, continuous and updated research will assure your technique is an existing and relevant reflection of your respective marketplace, marketing goals, and future business dealings.

Online strategy v. Marketing strategy

With this relationship, the online marketing strategy is basically helpful information for judge the performance and efficiency of the specific marketing strategy. Basically, an advertising and marketing technique is a directory of whatever you offer and the way you're situated in the marketplace (in terms of competitors' services), plus your marketing plan is an organized set of actions that you're going to enforce to get the goals outlined within your strategy. The plan will encompass the steps with a real-life putting on a marketing strategy, bringing life for your mission and vision. It's time and energy to show and then sell your merchandise and services so that your target audience may feel them inside the presence that you simply truly imagined.

Often, businesses lack an account balance of creative personality and logic personality. While a business person may have the creativity to envision a stellar product, business model, and brand, they might lack the entrepreneurship and discipline to bring everything to life through research, planning and execution.

Marketing Strategy v. Corporate Identity

It's no wonder that some of the most successful and recognizable companies on earth are the types who establish distinguished, one-of-a-kind cultures that permeate through every channel of a business and reach customers with a human level. The culture of your corporation, its psychology, attitude, ways to business, values and beliefs, lays the groundwork to get a unique and compelling corporate identity. There is a powerful and undeniable connection between the health of these lenders and the identities that their culture presents.

These companies have discovered the fragile balance from your brand and a method, and the way this symbiotic connection encourages visibility and growth. Their bond is easy: the online strategy represents the place where a company really wants to go, along with the culture determines how (and often if) it'll get there. Imagine a corporate identity - the design and style, words, images, and colors - because the personification of your online marketing strategy. The corporate identity is extended and applied to every phase in the web marketing strategy, and plays a stylistic role rolling around in its execution.

Consider an example. Starbucks, as yet, did not really have a marketing or advertising budget, per se. Starbucks started advertising within the New York Times as well as on TV in '09, and very gingerly at that. Once a week it might print full-page ads from the Times, and on select channels it might air brief, lighthearted commercials. Just before, the organization surely could very successfully promote itself and it is products through word of mouth marketing and slapping the 25-year-old logo on every cup its baristas cranked out, proving that even something as simple as a logo can deeply resonate with consumers. Nonetheless it was the Starbucks' identity what has numerous customers were happily waiting quarter-hour lined up for. The infamous Starbucks cup rapidly became linked to wealth, leisure, high standards, and urbanites. From college freshman to corporate CEO's, people couldn't get enough.

Starbucks enforced its web marketing strategy through clever, catchy campaigns, an actual and human "front line" at the store level, but for the greater degree, acknowledging any mistakes or shortfalls that it might've come upon. These actions are traits, portraying a deeply rooted culture that is exuded all the way through of the Starbucks hierarchy. And, love 'em or hate 'em, there isn't any denying their positive results, even in a strained economy.

Online strategy v. The Economy

The economy is definitely an incredibly sensitive subject around the world. What we've also noticed is a lot of companies and business people are using a depressed economic state as being a reason (and perhaps, a reason) for the shortcomings within their business.

By way of example, a major trend recently has become layoffs. Larger corporations are choosing weak economies as a reason to purge its staff and cut positions, if it knows just as well that thatrrrs the alternative products has to happen. Or will it? It's become difficult to tell. Is surviving a "depression" really as simple as, say, reassessing your marketing strategy? While an unstable economy is troubling, risky, and unpredictable, it is usually a great test of the flexibility of your respective online strategy. Your strategy isn't guaranteed...the complete reason for designing a strategy to start with is for smooth navigation through any circumstance, whether good or bad. Unfortunately, many CEOs and CFOs target their marketing departments first in lean times, as the truth is that it should be investing in these areas to ensure its marketing managers can shift their technique to survive-maybe even prosper, through challenging times. An excerpt from your blog of R. Bruer, the property owner and head of the strategic communications firm in Portland, Oregon, lays everything out:

"Most businesses treat marketing as a discretionary expense, which makes it a straightforward target for budget cutters. It's as though marketing can be a luxury afforded only if times are flush. Less customer demand, less money can buy marketing, approximately conventional thinking goes.

Yet ,, can we ever afford to never market?

It's natural to require to preserve cash throughout a downturn. I had been a company for almost 14 years, so I'm sympathetic. But the tendency is usually to make deep cuts in marketing when sales head south. Companies often start with reducing or eliminating outside expenses, for example advertising, events, sponsorships, research. When that's not enough, they lay off marketing employees, sometimes the whole department.

The net effect of gutting marketing is to stifle generation of customer awareness, demand and retention just when these things are needed most. It is a penny-wise, pound-foolish decision."

Your Online strategy

While online marketing strategy isn't tangible, its role in operation is just as dire because the product or service to be had. It's contribution bears significance through every phase of your business strategy, from conception to execution and a lot beyond these four areas of research, planning, identity and economy.

Online strategy continually fold itself into investor business plans as long as it really is created and executed properly. Research on the industry and competitors will allow you to produce and formulate a suitable, pliable strategy. Came from here, your marketing strategy will act as tips that can bring your technique to life, attaining and exceeding the goals outlined, all while establishing your corporate culture and identity. Remember, the culture piece works two ways. Your culture helps to make up the strategy, and beyond this concept strategy will reinforce your culture. Lastly, your strategy should be both strong and versatile enough to resist the most difficult or unpredictable of circumstances, such as an economic downturn, new trends or competitors with your industry.

Technique is a small bit of an extremely larger picture. It may be overwhelming from time to time, sure, however it is the main adventure. With dedication, organization, and a champion marketing team (ahem! B&A), the pieces can come along with ease, enabling the truly awesome personality of the business to shine, and profits to adhere to shortly thereafter.

[calliecat93]

Not counting today’s chapter. at last I am caught up with my reviews! Yay!!! Take that everything in the universe working against me! It’s kinda crazy though. This is only Chapter Five of Fourteen... and yet it already feels like endgame. So much happens in this chapter. So, so much. Major things, small things, going in a completely different direction than I was expecting, absolutely everything is off the table now. And I do mean everything. Wanna know what I mean? Well, let’s find out, shall we?

Overview

Pietro has gotten Amity functioning and ready for liftoff, but they need more turbulence to properly send it off. As such, Penny is setting up a bomb in the Dust Mines to use the explosion of power to ac as the liftoff. During this, Penny again brings up staying to help, but Pietro again tells her no in favor of her being safe in Amity. Seeing this, Maria points out that maybe Penny’s gotten tired of being told what to do by others. Pietro goes on to the terminal and prepares for the launch, all seeming to go according to plan.

Unfortunately, there’s an unforeseen complication: Cinder. She, Neo, and Emerald crash in via plane and Cinder is all set to take down Penny. yes folks, it all began in Amity all those volumes ago, and we’ve now come full-circle. The two Maidens fight, with the bomb also going off and sending the colosseum up2ward. But there’s now a problem, Cinder’s entrance has damaged one of the boosters, so the colosseum is dropping down. Even so as Penny and Cinder fight, Maria fights Neo and is actually holding up very well against her. Never underestimate old people folks! 

Penny tries to lure Cinder out of the arena to avoid anymore damage, but it isn’t long before Cinder realizes this and goes back. Penny even asks her why she’s even doing this for Salem, but Cinder claims that she is controlled by no one while Penny merely follows her programming and does as told. She proceeds to try and melt the support beams in the arena, forcing Penny to use her powers to try and freeze them. But it leaves her wide open and Cinder is able to get her into a hold and start draining the Maiden powers. Thankfully, Penny is able to get out via ice swords.

As Neo gets defeated, her Aura even breaking, Emerald steps in ty use her Semblance on Penny to trick her into seeing multiple Cinder’s. Penny is surrounded, but unfortunately for Cinder, Penny has heat seeking vision that let’s her rat out the real one. She blasts her with a laser beam, knocking Cinder into a wall and get knocked out. Emerald is upset, shooting at Penny but only hitting more of the arena. Emerald knows that she can’t beat Penny, but is more than willing to keep causing damage if she doesn’t back off. Penny complies, allowing Emerald to get Cinder into the jet and escape with Neo.

While the villainess trio is gone, they’ve left major damage. The arena has lost it’s broadcast window and are heading down. But Penny suggests hat she can hold it up to allow them to get into broadcast range. Again Pietro refuses and when Maria bring sup the bigger picture, the scientist snaps that he doesn’t care about that, he cares about his daughter. After already losing her once, he doesn’t want to go through that pain again, simply wanting to see his child live her life. Penny steps up to him, telling him that she’s trying to. This let’s Pietro tearfully allow Penny to go, and she give shim a kiss on the head before flying out.

With Penny keeping the arena stable, the message is broadcast. The message has Ruby revealing everything to the rest of Remnant. The Maidens, the Relics, and yes even Salem. She lays out the situation, even saying that Glynda and Professor Theodore of Vacuo can vouch for it. Ironwood, however, can no longer be trusted. Speaking of, he has had Watts figure out how to control Penny and the mad doctor adds his corrupted chip to the sword that they previously got. Penny’s eyes flash red as she realizes that something’s wrong. Due to this, Ruby’s message ends just as she tells the world that if they all work together, then they can win.

Penny shuts down due to the hack, falling to the ground in a fiery blaze. Her final act before she cuts off? To tell her father that she loves him. Ironwood is not happy with this result, even when Watts says that she’s likely rebooting, and even throws his Scroll at the doctor. He orders the Ace-Ops, along with a “recovered” Winter to go and locate Penny as well as for Harriet to take Watts back to his cell. They all fail to notice Watts taking not only Ironwood’s tossed Scroll, but tools as well. Back in the tundra, JYR are confused about the message cutting off when they hear something. They go outside and... remember the cracks last episode? It’s now exposed a sea of Grimm... and it’s heading directly towards Mantle.  

Review

Well... you think that you’re prepared for the pain at this point... and then the world throws you a curveball.

Obviously Penny and the Amity Fight are the big things here, but let’s go into some other stuff first and work our way to it. We’ll start on a happy note, Ruby’s message got transmitted! Yay! And WAAAY sooner than I expected. I think we all expected this to happen near the end, which means that all expectations are off the table folks. I think that this may be the monologue Lindsay mentioned recording that she said was her favorite Ruby moment, and I don’t blame her. This is one of her best moments. This is akin to her role in Volume 6: being the inspiring hope-bringer who can unite others. Heck she even calls herself a Huntress as she di in the V6 finale. Seeing her efforts pay off and how much she’s grown, even being more realistic when pointing out ironwood’s actions and changing course form saying ‘if we fall’ to ‘if Atlas falls’, makes me so happy. It also makes what happens after hurt and I’m even more convinced that something is gonna happen to break Ruby, but we’ll see how that goes.

And of course we get to see Remnant. Not just Atlas. Not just Mantle. We get to see several characters and locations that we haven’t seen in a LONG while. The Cotta-Arc’s in Argus, Ilia in Menagerie and receiving a call from Ghira, Sun and Neptune with our first on-screen glimpse of Vacuo, Glynda and Shopkeep in Vale which was a BIG surprise, and even Tai and Zwei in Patch... which Tai’s reaction when the feed cut hurt my heart. I know some are bummed about no Team CFVY or Raven or whoever else, and aside from the current circumstances there’s any number of reasons why, though it’s pretty likely that we’ll see them eventually. Still, it was amazing to see all these characters and places again. Heck, Glynda is one of my least favorite characters, and I was glad to see her and with an updated Maya model! We’re probably not gonna see much else (maybe Tai will get Raven to send him to Atlas since he likely at least knows she’s around, but that’s all I can think of), but I am VERY much hoping that the cavalry is coming. 

Okay, now we can cover Amity. We’ll actually begin with Maria vs Neo. I’ve made it no secret that I’m not a big Neo fan and find her overhyped especially because of her fight track record, so I was VERY glad to see Maria beating her. It actually shows that Neo has weaknesses and isn’t unstoppable, which has been one of my biggest issues with her since she became important again. Maria was also the best person to do so. Some have apparently complained due to Maria being old (...even though the retired old person being a badass fighter has been a common trope since forever especially in anime) and not haven’t fought for years. But not only has Maria clearly kept in shape, but also remember her Preflex Semblance. She can pretty much detect things before they happen, an given Neo usually likes to psyche people out with her illusions or mess with them to get them flustered and not focus (as she did to Yang in V2), that kind of power comes in very handy against this kind of fighter. Plus seeing Maria having the time of her life was just so fun~

Emerald... was there. Yeah, she didn’t really do much in the fight sadly. But we do get one strong moment after Cinder is knocked out. We all know how attached to Cinder that Emerald is. She gave the thief a new life that wasn’t her trying to survive on the streets. Even though she’s clearly terrified of everything wit Salem and the Grimm, and rightfully so, she’s continuously put it aside to stay by Cinder. A woman who has been nothing but cold towards her, has outright smacked her at least once, keeps her obedient, and only keeps her around for her abilities. Mercury pointed it out in V6, Cinder doesn’t care at all about either of them. Mercury always knew that and never cared, but Emerald isn’t ready to accept that. She was outright tearful as she threatened to shoot up the arena unless Penny backed away. I feel so bad for her, especially since Cinder is NOT going to react well when she wakes up, and it’s just... uncomfortable to watch Emerald continue to devote herself to someone who would absolutely abandon her if she no longer had any us to her. I’m still hoping that by the volume’s end, Emerald will finally break free before it’s too late. IDT Mercury will quite yet considering his issues and still expressing no care about his actions, but Emerald very much has a chance.

Now let’s do Cinder. So... this sucked for her, huh? Cinder has very much been on a downward spiral. Back in Volumes 1-3, she was in-control, defeated everyone in her path, got the Maiden power, killed one of the strongest students in beacon, and had successfully crippled Vale and planted the seeds of discord in Remnant. But since then? Ever since Ruby Silver Eyes blasted her? She was too weak to do anything for months, ruined the plan to get the Haven Relic all because of her thirst for power, got her ass kicked by Raven, lost the Winter Maiden powers twice now, was almost Silver Eyes blasted again, and has now outright disobeyed Salem multiple times now. She began as a woman who seemed in control of everything, but we not only saw how that wasn’t at all the case, but we’ve watched her slip more and more as she prioritizes her quest for power above all else. Heck she only got the Fall Maiden power because she had Mercury and Emerald, but thinks that it’s all she needs now to get the rest and fails to realize how she was wrong despite all the failures since.

So here she not only failed to beat Penny again, but she also did it directly against Salem’s orders. Salem has been fairly patient with her, even letting her get away with bringing others into the cause (Emerald, Mercury, Neo), but I doubt that it’s gonna last much longer. Her mocking Penny for being a robot, saying that she merely follows programming and is controlled by others, is dramatic irony. She’s either in utter denial or genuinely fails to realize how she is under Salem’s control. Sure she’s disobeyed her, but ultimately she is following Salem’s game. Will she break form Salem? At this rate probably. I still thinks he’s gone way too far for a redemption arc, but her going rogue is still a very strong possibility. But not only is it not gonna happen before Salem punishes her, but it’s not gonna be good for anyone as Cinder won’t hesitate to slay anyone in her way on her quest for power and control. Not the heroes, not the villains. Be afraid people.

So at last, we come to the Polendinas. To say that everything hurt would be an understatement. Once more we have Penny not being allowed to make her own choices, tis time due to her father. We all know that Pietro is a good guy, but it’s still unfair to Penny. he girl has been pulled around so much, not allowed to have her own agency or control her own fate. In Vale she was almost always guarded by Atlas personnel, got banned form befriending Team RWBY, and then when she made a plan to remain at Vale, her first death happened. Yeah, her facing Cinder and Emerald again in Amity Arena was very much symbolic. Then last volume she was was always made to put her duty above all else, got framed for murder, the general outright made it clear that to him she’s just another robot under his command, and then everything bad that happened in the last few episodes. She DID choose to comfort Fria in her final moments and to defy Ironwood to help the others. choices that she made herself. But even now everyone, even Ruby, told her to stay in Amity. It’s merely out of concern and has a fair reason behind it, but it’s still not allowing Penny to choose for herself.

It makes what happens after the fight hurt so much. As I said, Pietro is a good person. Why is he so insistent on keeping Penn b him? It’s not because she’s a robot. It’s not because she’s a Maiden. It’s because she’s his child and he doesn’t want to lose her. He already did once, and even if he brought her back the loss of a child is one of the worst experiences that any person can go through, even if it’s not their biological child. He doesn’t even mention how he might die if he tries to fix her again, he doesn’t care about that. He wants his daughter to live her life. His fears are that of any parent and it is absolutely understandable, and his breakdown is utterly heartbreaking. But as Penny says, she’s trying to live her life. Even if she does die again, she wants to lead her own life. She wants to make her own choices. She wants to be like other people with emotions and feelings. And of course, even if it was ordered upon her, Penny does genuinely want to help and protect people. The message is Mantle’s only chance, and it needs to go out. Pietro tearfully relented due to all of those reasons. The whole scene is one of the most emotional in the series thus far and it was executed perfectly, especially by the VA’s.

But of course, we come to the ending. Watts successfully hacked Penny. We all knew it was coming, but not when and it happened at the worst possible time. But to make it worst, Penny shuts down and falls downward in a fiery blaze, her fate now unknown. Everything about this hurt. First, Ironwood seeing his original plan work, but being too far gone now to care and blowing what may have been his last chance at realizing/atoning for his mistakes. Then there’s Penny’s fear as she realizes what’s happening. Seriously, Taylor McNee nailed portraying Penny’s emotions as everything unfolded. Ironwood, in his anger, pretty much gift-wrapped what Watts needs to both escape and wreak havoc within Atlas for Salem. But of course, we don’t know if Penny survived and even if she did, she is likely under Atlas’ control. Not only does this potentially mean that the Vault is getting open, but it Watts takes over then Salem has the Relic, another Maiden, and Atlas is guaranteed to fall. But once more, Penny was taken control of in the worst way. Then her last words as Pietro is begging her to tell him what’s going on and the end shot of him clearly breaking down... God man, just... ouch.

These were all things that I expected to happen. But they all happened much sooner than I or anyone else expected. As I said, absolutely everything is off the table now. All of my expectations have been thrown out of whack, and IDK whether to be excited or terrified. But man this episode. Along with all I already said there was the battle itself, which was epic. The only thing it was missing was a new rocking song just to really take it to eleven, but the score was still perfection. Then there’s the ending with the River of Grimm. There are... many reasons to be afraid right now. That’s not even mentioning stuff we’re still waiting on like a Whitley and Weiss confrontation, the Ace-Ops and Winter going after penny, the potential cavalry, and SO much more. Needles to say, the last two chapters before the break are gonna be rough. How do they expect us to survive for six weeks?!

Chapter Stats

Favorite Character: Penny Polendina Favorite Scene: Penny and Pietro talk and Ruby’s message Least Favorite Scene: None. Favorite Voice Actor: Taylor McNee (Penny) and Dave Fennoy (Pietro( Favorite Animation: The entire Penny vs Cinder battle Rating: 10/10

Final Thoughts

First 10/10 rating of the volume! Yay! Man, I just remember sitting in shock after it was all over. Every chapter has rocked me in one way or another, and this was no exception. The emotion was on point. The action was fantastic, the voice acting was stellar, the character writing continues to soar, and we’re left with both amazing highs and amazing lows. We got the message out. We hopefully have help incoming. Penny got to finally control her own life. But Watts’ hack was successful. There’s a River of Grimm heading for Mantle. There’s Watts having the key to do who knows what. here is so much on the line, and the final results are still uncertain. Hold onto your seats folks, this ride isn’t settling down anytime soon.

#rwby #rwby8 #rwby spoilers #rwby reviews #rwby musings #callie reviews

[lunelantern]

~Sasusaku analysis ~

                               ~~ Sasuke and Sakura - - pair analysis ~~                                            ~THE BRIDGE SCENE~                            (Team 7 Reunion - - after the Five Kage Summit)

                                           ---   PART 4---

How would anyone act when given an impossible choice: be a shinobi or a lover.

This scene suggests that one can't be both (Zabuza states that they can't be both and the human wins every time, albeit Naruto begs to differ and state that it is realistic and achievable to balance the two antithetical perspectives).

"Kill her and I'll accept your offer." Sasuke gives her a pill of her own medicine. Because he doesn't speak randomly for the sake of conversation, cruelly with seemingly no remorse lingering in his heart, Sasuke gives Sakura one example of how her life would be if she were to join him; the life of an outlaw where murder and disposing of people like nothing would be ordinary.

Plus, the scene is also symbolic; Sasuke asks a famous medic - - his following sentence is more than revealing for he knows very well that Sakura is a medic - - to kill a suffering person, when the very essence of her jobs nature AND her symbolism in the manga as the representative of rebirth and regeneration  is to heal, to cure, to lessen one's pain.

By joining him, Sakura would give up on her own self (Naruto answers to her shrouded confession that no sentient bring should event lose himself and betray his own morals, principles and feelings "I hate people who lie to themselves"). Hypothetically, Sasuke shows Sakura a glimpse into how her future beside him would look like.

Albeit is kosher and nuanced, barely noticeable, Sasuke still has a good nature and he proves he cares; he doesn't snap at her, he doesn't launch an attack, he takes his time to lecture her in his own blunt and sarcastic manner.

In the light of the most recent events - - Itachi’s death, the Kage summit, Danzo, Obito and his confession about Uchiha - - Sasuke might arguably have his ration altered, with interlaced moments of lucidity and madness, triggered by the emotional trauma, extreme stress and because he is being provoked. And that makes his moves seem mad, unusually erratic and exaggerated (his famous mad  laughing moment when he shouts to Kakashi that no one could ever bring his family back and restore that status quo - - a doctrine that the manga embraces).

But that's not the case; not with Sasuke and not in this scene.

The overly popular consent postulates that "Sasuke went mad/ he is crazy". Which isn't the truth at all, but it's so facile to superficially judge a character with no proper introspection.

He is not mad at all. Nothing in his demeanor reveal that Sasuke lost the clarity or the ration and his furious state must not be mistaken for insanity.

Sasuke is perfectly lucid. He's, calm, composed, enigmatic, his words have double meaning, he is coherent, analytical, tactical and he knows perfectly well what he is saying; he has complete control of his thoughts.

The fact that his following  conversation with Team 7 steals exacerbated reactions from him is due to the fact that he's more emotionally attached to them and thus his emotions would be pushed to extreme; he'd be more expressive and his rage would be more evident.

Sasuke is less reserved with Team 7 because he's emotionally involved; it’s very personal. But that doesn't make him a mentally deranged man.

He even kept his lucidity and perfectly placated Danzo with a sparkling strategy; he had enough lucidity to analyze Danzo's attacks and outsmart him, despite the emotional trump card of psychological upper hand that Danzo supposingly had on him. Even Obito himself thought at some point that Sasuke has lost it and he's only launching at Danzo erratically, aimlessly in his crazed mind, like Juugo. But it wasn't the suicidal rampage of a crazed man. Sasuke fooled everyone into thinking that he does not know what he is doing / that he lost it.

Nowhere in his attitude or his manner of speaking does Sasuke seem crazy and that's luckily to Sakura because she exposed herself to a ridiculously deadly situation. She came before him like it's a cakewalk with a confusing and conflicting strategy - - if it even existed.

That's the beauty of this pair. It's refreshing and novel, the dynamics are exciting, it lefts the reader constantly guessing and the finale isn't predictable. They aren't a cliché couple. Their movements, the inner feelings, the evident indecision and introspective turmoil is fabulous.

Sakura's ambiguous intentions and Sasuke's personal manner of speaking, his body language, her evident conflict and bedraggled approach are confusing and enigmatic. We keep in guessing what did she hope to accomplish?

Her presence alone holding a lethal weapon that she plans to use on Sasuke and the mention of the word "kill" on her lips when talking about Sasuke the man she loves might be symbolic for how much she treasures the bond with Naruto and how much she regrets for her innocent, naïve plea to bring Sasuke back.

A bond of blood, pain, rancor and emotional torment that she created, a harpoon of tm emotional trauma and torture for Naruto who didn't deserve it. Her present alone with murder intent is an attempt to free Naruto her best friend from this curse (a repentine decision taken after her "confession" failed - - her attempt to free Naruto from that promise failed because Naruto suggests that the supposed burden of her promise was also a conjoined personal motivation).

And maybe Sakura wants to confirm her own feelings and proceed from there: does she love him now when he's gone to this lengths or did her feelings changed for this new Sasuke and she'll be able to fulfill her shinobi duty?

That's how her disarrayed moves and the lack of any proper prior plan could be explained. She wanted to confront her own emotions and the best way to do so was to meet Sasuke herself and assess the situation with her own eyes and her suspicions coupled with the rumors about him lead to the verdict: he is not the same Sasuke that she fell in love with.

Solidifying Sasuke's role as a character with great development in the Manga (a Bildungsroman which follows the evolution of a character from childhood to adulthood, which emphasizes and supports the moral of the story). In antithesis with Naruto who is a linear character who didn't change in the bit, Uchiha is a dynamic character who evolves and never stays the same.

Both Sakura and Karin make it perfectly clear that Sasuke is not static like an unperturbed lake with no ripple to break the mirror-like stillness of its surface. He's a vivacious ocean - - unpredictable and fulminant with constant vicissitudes between tranquility and serenity and turbulent storms.

Sakura confronts her own feelings by approaching Sasuke and realization almost costs her life - - her heart gives us the painful confirmation that she loves him, still helplessly loves him ardently, in a moment when there's no safe turning back.

A moment of hesitation is lethal for a shinobi. A moment of indecision or unfortunate choice comes with devastating consequences.

She reveals her poisoned kunai from under her clothes while indecision takes control over her reeling emotions and fogged lucidity. Simultaneously, Sasuke prepares his Chidori and prepares to strike his attack.

The manga is very descriptive and suggestive. The transitions denote melodious cursively and the flow and cohesion of their interplay is assured by the constant introspection into the characters minds and hearts as the silent face expressions and body language emphasize their dialogue.

Sasuke sees Sakura's internal turmoil. He notices how she reviews her own feelings for he did the same when he heard the truth about Itachi. She's analyzing her feelings for him as he silently allow her to make a decision, up to the very last moment - - he wait for her to get close to him while he won't let any other enemy with murder intent to get so close to him.

Waiting for her to decide, to make up her mind, to choose the road to take and dictate the course of action. Up to the last moment when she reveals her kunai and her mind decides that "she doesn't matter", meaning that she won't comply with his request to kill Karin and "prove" her loyalty and feelings to him.

The implicit dubiety in Sasuke's voice has a moral purpose behind: in a couple, trust is fundamental for a healthy relationship. Love isn't enough when it’s not coupled with trust and respect.

When trust misses, there can't be any romance between two parties and that's what Sasuke's ironic and daring words mean when he dares Sakura to prove her loyalties and back up her confession.

Yes, she might love him but she won't do everything he asks and she does not NEED to comply to his requests. Sasuke tells Sakura that she does not BELONG to his world now. To this version of reality, according to the script of this play he can't be her lover, the one she dreams of.

His eyes, the mirrors of the soul as the symbols of the Third Eye in Buddhism - - the omnipotence of the one who beholds all the wisdom and knowledge / the spiritual part represented by Sasuke's Yin avatar - - are always scrutinizing and introspective. Sasuke is following Sakura's mimics, gesture and reactions with hawkish diligence, attentive and meticulous.

He sees right through her deception; he might not have accumulated enough life-experience, wisdom and information to unravel Itachi's truth ("how far can you see with that Sharingan of yours, Sasuke?"), but he sees right through Sakura's soul, reading her like an open book, every page and every line. She's transparent in front of the man she loves.

It can't be any different because romantic bonds are unique; nothing can begin to compare or come close to. There's nothing else tangible to compare romantic love with, nothing that can offer such a complete body and soul experience.

It's very difficult to draw a kokeshi doll mask on the face of a lover because primal instinct makes one react differently, in a peculiar manner in the presence of the loved one.

Is primal, animal instinct to entice and attract the attention of a potential match and thus it makes it difficult to fight against such strong innate reflexes.

For both Sasuke and Sakura, the primeval instinct to be a couple is very difficult to placate and hide. Sasuke makes it obvious from his tempered gestures, for how he allows her closer to him than anyone, and from he way he talks to her - - the syntax of the phrase and the choice of words are all very intimate, very personal.

And Sakura's pendulating actions shine with confusion and indecision, the inner turmoil revealing as theatrical and dramatic: she alternates between blubbing and shouting, rasping and barking at him and getting emotional and mellower with him.

The look in their eyes is one of this pair’s most symbolic feature. Since Japanese people aren't overtly extroverts with displaying emotions in public, subtlety is the key of this representative pair. There is an entire repertoire that composed the aria of love songs between this pair. There are heated glances, angst stares, incredulity and confusion. This time Sakura does not eschew her eyes from Sasuke; she doesn't glance shyly and flirtatiously aside from him like she does at the end of the manga. She holds Sasuke's gaze, leveling his piercing gaze as she knows she risks a lot because this man's eyes can see through everything.

He... Was always capable to see right through her deception. She can never hide from him.

Sasuke instead can perfectly mask his emotions, but chooses not to.

Considering how this couple's love story is embroidered into the tapestry of scorching passion, it’s no wonder that Sasuke is the one who initiates most the innuendos between them. No pronouns are more idoneous than the repetitive "Me" and "you" and the syntax of their dialogue; the flow of the conversation, the order of the words and the feelings elicited are extremely intimate.

There is history behind this couple and their now earmark stares and glances exchange support it.

Sasuke and Sakura are subtle but their body language is unique and a expressive. No fustian description can give their story justice, for it's far too complex.

That's why passion and intimacy scorch like a pyre with this pair. Every feeling, every emotion and every sentiment is augmented and exacerbated.

While he's clearly deranged by the women's litany of flirts and attempts to seduce him, he listens to Sakura's every word. He doesn't brush off her confession, he doesn't ask her to keep her distance from him, and he doesn't repay her confession with brusque scowls or growls (like he does to Karin, Ino and Mei).

Sasuke and Sakura's love story is very reminiscent to the compelling elements of Shakespeare drama in terms of its characteristic elements: the tragic hero who's suffering is the product of a peculiar  trait of fate or an extraneous force (the Uchiha curse/ manipulation and lies that surround HIM); his inner struggle (the struggle between good or bad), darkness and hatred and evil  that destroys any iota of goodness in the hero's heart, the stupendous internal and external conflict and the effect of catharsis that their feelings produce.

The strong, Naruto-esque happy ending is the only thing that differs, as Sasuke and Sakura don't end in a veritable tragedy, emphasizing the triumph of good in the manga.

I'd end by citing Obito and Hagoromo's hermeneutics:   "When a man learns how to love he must shoulder the burden of hatred."

The negativism and pessimism that attributes a negative connotation to life and suggests that pain and suffering are inherent to life and win over positive emotions - - the reign of pain and suffering.

... In conjunction with:

"I hope that this time is hatred which turns into love."

The positive overview of the humanist manga conclusion.

The positive, idealist triumph of peace, love and happiness, with love winning over pain.

It's Sakura who returned the lost peace and gave Sasuke happiness. It's her love that turned his hatred (Sasuke set on redemption journey because of lingering Uchiha demons he's scared to hurt people).

#Sasusaku romance #Sasusaku pair #Sasusaku explained #Sasusaku analysis #sasusaku #sasuke and sakura love #Sasuke and Sakura pair

[dvp95]

whispers trail and linger

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: mature tags: hallucinations, unsettling, psychological horror, imaginary friend, mention of suicidal thoughts in the past word count: 2.2k  summary: Dan had an imaginary friend when he was young. It doesn't seem to have gotten the memo that he's grown up. Bingo squares: hallucinations + wingfic + midnight swim + destruction

also, used a dialogue prompt from @throwing-roses-into-the-abyss! i’m sure you would have preferred something fluffier, dear, i’m just getting into the spooky spirit of things.

read on ao3 or here!

"The diamond in your engagement ring is fake."

Dan freezes. After a long beat, his muscles slowly untense, one by one, and he inhales deeply. Maybe if he doesn't look up from his laptop, the voice will go away.

It doesn't. Dan should really know better than that by now.

"You know that, right? It's, like, zircon."

"It's cubic zirconia," Dan says, and then he scowls at himself. He hadn't meant to respond, doesn't want to go down this rabbit hole again. He keeps his eyes trained on the blinking cursor on his screen, even though his fingers have stopped typing.

"Sounds like the same thing to me. Point is, it's not a diamond. Why isn't it a diamond?"

"I didn't want a diamond," says Dan.

"Why not?"

"Because. Most diamond mining is irresponsible, and I don't want a reminder of deforestation and soil erosion on my finger."

"Huh. Can I touch it?"

Dan inhales again, through his nose this time. He could say no. He should say no.

Still, he's spent a good chunk of his time in therapy talking about this, and he knows that it isn't real. It won't actually hurt him. So, reluctantly, Dan holds his left hand out, over the abyss that is the space between his sofa and the end table.

It isn't real, he knows it isn't real, but the shock of cool fingers touching his own makes him shiver anyway.

The logical part of Dan's brain - which is the majority of it, really - always feels so muddled when this happens. It doesn't seem to matter that he's spent years and years working through the trauma that he expects is the cause of this, it still feels so fucking real in the moment. He can feel the cold, gentle weight of fingertips tracing over his ring before they skitter away.

"Feels weird. I like diamonds better."

"It doesn't feel like anything," Dan says flatly. "It's a rock in some metal."

"Such a nice way to talk about a gift, Danny."

"Don't call me that," Dan snaps, and his gaze jerks away from his laptop automatically. He regrets it, wishes he'd held back the instinct.

It - not 'him', never 'him', because it isn't real - stands in Dan's lounge like it belongs there, all long limbs and eerily pale skin. It looks human, or near enough, unless Dan looks closely.

He doesn't want to look closely. He turns back to his screen and stares at the cursor again.

"Dan, then," it says. Its tone is amused, a little condescending. Dan prickles, but he doesn't rise to the bait. After a long, quiet moment where Dan clenches his jaw and does not, in any way, acknowledge its presence, the voice comes again, light and conversational. "And here you said you'd marry me. It's very like you to break a promise, isn't it?"

That's too far. Dan can't hold back his angry, "I was seven, it wouldn't count as a real promise even if you did exist."

It laughs. The hairs on the back of Dan's neck stand up.

"You know that I exist."

"No," Dan says, and he wishes he could sound more certain. The fact is, he struggles with the concept of existence in general, and it becomes somewhat of an existential thing. Does it exist, even though it only exists in Dan's mind? He can't be sure of the answer.

"I suppose you're right," it says thoughtfully, acting like Dan hasn't spoken. "We were way too young to make a promise so big."

"Plus, you're a figment of my diseased imagination," Dan deadpans. His heartrate picks up a bit, the way it always does when he vocalizes this thing. "So I'm guessing the ceremony would be a bit fucking weird, as well."

"Am I?" It sounds delighted. "Wouldn't that be something."

Dan takes another deep breath. It won't get a rise out of him, not this time. It's been an expert at poking and prodding sore spots for far too long.

Maybe if he just keeps working and refuses to talk to it, it'll get bored. It gets bored very easily. Dan brings both his hands back to his laptop keyboard and, as if he's moving through sludge, starts typing again. He's not sure if any of it makes sense, too hyperaware that he isn't alone right now to pay much attention to the words he's typing.

He doesn't hear it move, but he supposes he doesn't have to. The only indication that it isn't standing to his left anymore is the brush of a light, unfortunately familiar weight over his shoulders.

Dan's muscles tense up again. He knows it's leaning over the back of the couch now, looking at his screen, and honestly, that would make him uncomfortable even if it was another human doing it.

"Music, yeah? You always liked music. Glad you're writing about something you like instead of trying to force yourself into what they want."

No matter how old Dan gets, he still can't figure out who 'they' are. It references a 'them' a lot, and Dan used to think it was talking about his parents. Then he thought it was talking about the shitty bullies at school. Now, he has no idea who or what his fucked up subconscious is trying to warn him against.

"What did they want?" Dan asks. He's got no willpower at all, has he.

"Oh, you know," it says, its breath ghosting over the back of Dan's neck. Dan feels goosebumps start to rise over his arms, even under his thick hoodie.

"I don't know," Dan says, irritated. "I've never known."

"Don't you?"

"Am I always this annoying to talk to?" Dan wonders out loud. If this is what a small part of his psyche sounds like, then he feels bad for his friends and fiancé for dealing with him all the time.

It laughs, low and uninhibited. Out of the corner of his eye, Dan sees the shape of something dark stretching out.

He won't look. He doesn't look. Not that it really matters. Dan knows what the shape is, has known it his entire life. The sight of it comforted him, once upon a time.

"No, you're much worse," it jokes, and the shape retracts back. Dan hates that he almost misses the peripheral view, hates that he keeps talking to his own delusion like it's going to do him any fucking good at all.

"If you're just here to be vague and insult me, you can fuck off," says Dan. "Gabe will be over soon, I don't need you hovering when he is."

"Does it matter that I'm here if I'm in your head?" it asks. Something brushes against Dan's upper arm, and Dan flinches. "You're jumpy today, aren't you? It's just me, Dan, jeez."

That's kind of the problem. It doesn't give Dan a chance to say so. "I didn't think you liked it when I said it out loud, but fine. You know what they want, it's what they've always wanted. They want you dead, Danny."

Dan's not sure what he expected, but it wasn't that. He feels cold all through his body very suddenly, a wave of nausea overtaking him.

"What?" he bleats, his vision going a bit blurry and his voice sounding so, so small.

Then, there's a firmer pressure on Dan's shoulders, across his chest. Encircling him. It's giving him an embrace, probably one that's meant to be comforting. Not with its cold, human-ish arms, but with the smooth, soft weight of its wings.

Dan's therapists have blamed his semi-religious upbringing for the wings. They think that he started having delusions of some kind of guardian angel when he was young, and that's why it looks the way it does.

Honestly, Dan doesn't know if that's true or not. Maybe it is. He doesn't remember the first time he saw it, after all, it's just always been there, growing at the same pace as him like another child would.

The hold should be making him panic more, because he's essentially being trapped against the couch by its wings, but Dan actually starts to feel calmer. Maybe that isn't so surprising, really. This used to make him feel so safe when he was a child, curling up with his imaginary friend and feeling its soft wings around him like a weighted blanket.

But then Dan learned that it wasn't real, that it was all in his head, that his family would watch him with wide, uncertain eyes if he kept talking about it, and its embrace stopped being a refuge.

"I won't let them hurt you," it says, with so much sincerity that Dan finds himself believing it despite all logic.

Heat prickles at Dan's eyes, and he leans further back into the couch cushion, its nose brushing his ear and its wings tightening across his chest.

"I know," he whispers, because he does. He does know that.

He remembers the way the freezing cold water had felt against his skin that night, the last time he saw it. The moon had been little more than a sliver of light in the sky, reflecting off the gentle waves around him. He remembers feeling peaceful, for just a moment, before his reality came crashing down around his shoulders again. He remembers wanting to put his head under until everything went away again.

The only thing that had made him leave the water that night had been his imaginary friend, who had stopped showing up as frequently now that Dan was in the midst of a turbulent adolescence, and who had cheerfully waved at him from the shoreline.

So he'd ended up talking instead, about nothing in particular, until dawn started to break over the horizon. It always looked stranger in sunlight, so pale it was practically translucent, but Dan had felt so comforted by its reappearance at that particular time in his life, when it felt like he had nothing and nobody to help with the unending noise in his head.

Dan doesn't know if he would have really done anything, can't be certain, but he has a gut feeling that its presence kept him alive.

He exhales.

"You okay?" it asks, soft.

"Yeah," says Dan. "Yeah, okay. They want me dead and you won't let them."

"That's right." The wings release him, and Dan almost sobs at the loss. He doesn't need to worry, though, because he blinks and it is beside him on the couch now, reaching out with its hands. Dan allows it to take his right hand between both of its own. "I've missed you, Danny."

It isn't real. But when Dan looks up and sees the warmth in its tri-coloured eyes and the smile that seems to have too many teeth to be quite convincingly human, he feels the logical part of his mind go numb again.

"I've missed you too, Phil," Dan whispers, watching its wings twitch happily at the admission. Its smile widens, showing off the sharp edges of its unsettling teeth.

"Stop trying to get rid of me, then," Phil says, teasingly, like it's a joke, but its grip on Dan's hand tightens to the point of pain.

Dan isn't too young to make promises anymore, and his muddled brain doesn't acknowledging the alarm signals that he's sure are going off somewhere in there. He simply nods, feeling a little more dazed the longer he looks at Phil.

It's been around as long as Dan can remember, after all, always appearing when Dan needed comfort or guidance, always keeping him safe, even from himself, always appearing as, more or less, the same age as Dan. Who is he to get rid of it? Nobody has to know if he just keeps his mouth shut this time.

These thoughts don't feel like Dan's own, but his mind is working so, so slow right now. Phil's eyes are the colour of the sea that he'd stood shoulder-deep in all those years ago, and it feels just as much like he's on the precipice of making a dangerous decision as it had then.

"Okay," says Dan. "I'll stop. You can stay."

#phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words #bingo