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sanjis-moulinrouge · 7 months

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Unplanned Rescue

Sanji x reader | Fluff

Summary: The reader goes out to explore a village but inopportune events happen and needs to be rescued.

a/n: I needed some fluff and cute interactions, hope you like it. English is not my first language, so my apologies if something sounds unnatural.

cw: mild swearing

During the first weeks you’ve built a solid friendship with Usopp and Nami, the reassurance they offer you makes you grateful to have found them under past difficult conditions. You’ve already set routines that keep your interactions balanced and fun.

Part of the routines involve going shopping every time you arrive to a new land, you help Nami to select clothes or jewelry. Usopp sometimes takes you through foreign places to assist him buying tools that might be useful to invent artifacts. He's a great inventor and storyteller, long walks and talks makes you feel at ease.

Now, you long to reach land to go out with them somewhere.

“Guys, we are getting close to an island” Usopp calls out. “Y/n, it’s exactly what you wanted”.

“AAAAH! where are weee?” Luffy shouts as he runs towards the lower deck.

“Oi, someone is desperate to put her feet in the sand” Zoro adds, staring at you.

“It’s better for Sanji not to see that shining face of yours, y/n. Otherwise he's not going to shut up about it” Nami stresses laughing.

You feel your face turning red, looking around to make sure the cheff is not there, silence was your only way to pass Nami’s comment over.

Once on solid ground, Sanji goes out to watch the landscape from the upper deck. His figure is delightful to watch from your viewpoint, you couldn't help but notice him lighting a cigarette. He is the sweetest man, but your shyness has stopped you from getting to know him as you'd would like to since the first day you saw him.

He’s been aware of your self-imposed distance, but despite that, he’s always been kind, so kind that you’d like to tell him many things stuck in your chest. You’ve been avoiding doing any task with him, even going for groceries. His beauty is crushing, it makes your body weak.

“U-hm the weather is nice… You go, I’ll stay here. It’s my turn” Sanji shouts to the crew. Gaze fixed on him, you are the last one leaving the ship.

“I’ll prepare a delicious meal and drinks for you, y/n-chaawn and Nami-swaan!” you hear Sanji's sweet voice while waving his hand.

“Ugh, he’s so loud sometimes… y/n, would you mind going ahead with Usopp? I’ll find you later” Nami says, rushing to the opposite side of the road.

As you walk next to Usopp, you see Luffy’s and Zoro’s silhouettes moving forward in the distance.

For some reason, Usopp’s stories couldn’t catch your attention this time, there was internal noise pending that couldn’t longer bear.

Sanji is in your thoughts. Somehow, you have to leave your insecurity behind to allow him to know you as the others. At the moment, you wish to return to the ship to listen to Sanji’s stories about the All Blue. You were aware he hasn’t had the best childhood, there were parts of the story of his life that were missing, you felt the need to complete the puzzle of the straw hats’ personal stories.

When Usopp entered a shop, you decided to check the other stores around, you entered a large hall and luckily got to a place you like, libraries. You have some berries specially saved for occasions like this. Books about philosophy, mythology, romance were selected, but something was missing, something special, a gift... a cookbook. You've finally decided to offer him something valuable, you are certain that he’s going to appreciate that detail.

Leaving the library you realize that Usopp isn’t around. You perceive something is going on, people murmur and disperse through the small village, agitated kids run to their houses, and there's not much time for night to set.

“Bandits have come to sack the city!!!” someone screams.

You immediately think about sightings of The Going Merry in the area, but Usopp’s disappearance was strange.

Trying to remember the way back to the ship was hard. You followed your nakama without being conscious of the path, your mind was blank.

You stare at the place trying to keep calm, after a while you decide to go down a busy street to feel safer. The locals seemed to have regained their composure after a while, but now you're the one who's confused.

“Shit, I can believe that I also lose my sense of direction...”

Night has fallen, in a single desolate part of the city, you start to feel a non-human presence behind you. Walking faster doesn’t seem to help, beasts breathing sounds down your back. In a desperate act you start running, but two wild dogs reach you, attacking one of your ankles. The pain is unbearable, they wrestle and tear part of your leg. Distressed, you begin to hit one of the creatures with the bag full of books. As they release your ankle covered in blood, you stand up as fast as you can. You take refuge in a grove, to go unnoticed. “A-gh crap, this looks awful, I need to go to the ship.”

It’s already past midnight, the full moon illuminates you completely. The pain stuns you and the area is fully swollen. You already accepted that you have to wait until dawn, you have no idea if the early commotion at the village ended, the real reasons or real bandits behind it, you can't risk showing yourself as a foreigner, as a pirate. “Damn it hurts, fuck.”

The pain was so strong that you fell asleep under the bushes.

“y/n! psss, please… wake up” you listen from afar. “Darling, darling… Ahhh, fuck… your leg, beauty... please.”

Your unconscious body feels some generous warm hands. “Aargh, Sanji? Is that y-”

As you open your eyes you see Sanji's ethereal features, he is on his knees holding you in his arms, his fingertips caressing your face and head softly, your body trembles. Bursting into tears you sob “I’m sorry!”

“No, sweetheart. I should have come with you. I-I was restless on the ship… we've been looking for you for hours”

You felt a bit embarrassed that he sees you in that condition, a new unintentional connection with the charismatic cook has been born. You’ve always wanted that but not under these circumstances.

“We have to go back. I need you to get comfortable in my arms. I'm going to get up on the count of three… two… on–”

“Sanji, wait” you interrupt. “I-I’m so sorry for my avoidant behavior these months.”

His blue eyes are filled with amusement and curiosity. He looks captivated as your eyes meet. “It’s fine, honey. We all have different things to attend” Sanji chuckled warmly.

“No, don’t you get it?”

“W-what-” his brow furrowed. “What are you trying to say, y/n?” his gaze fixed on you again and later on your lips. His face was so close to yours that despite your physical pain, it felt satisfying, time stopped… It was a moment of vulnerability for both of you, he was nervous, blushing, his body irradiated warmth.

Lost in your thoughts, as you wrap your arm around his neck to make yourself more comfortable, you push your cheek towards his and give him a small kiss on his nose. His cheeks instantly heated up and he replied with a faint kiss on your lips.

“We’ll need many days to make up for lost time, my love” he cooes.

“Oh, I have a gift for you” you whisper as he gently takes you back to the ship.

#sanji x reader #one piece #one piece sanji #one piece x reader #sanji x you #black leg sanji #opla #sanji x y/n #reader insert #sanji fluff #one piece fluff #sanjis-moulinrouge-fiction

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bp-zb1fics · 1 year

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Something cute with Zhang Hao where the reader became close with one of the boys (Jiwoong maybe?) and he's jealous because poor boy has the biggest crush on reader :( with a cute lil confession? 🥰

A real kiss~

pairing: jealous zhang hao x long time friend reader ft. jiwoong as the cause of drama (jk)

pronouns: none used

genre: canon au, fluff, humour

tw/tags: introvert things, nicknames, jealousy lol, jiwoong giving hands-on acting lessons (maybe a lil too hands-on for hao but he’s just being nice y’all), woong best wingman (yes he can sense the tension), kdrama mention, flashback, kissing, confessions

wc: 1175

summary: maybe hao’s a teeny little bit jelly of how well you get along with jiwoong.

a/n if any of you saw this earlier than scheduled, it's because tumblr hates me and likes to confuse me constantly~ anyways thanks for the req anon, this was really cute and i enjoyed writing it very much, a little content note: xiào xiào is a nickname used for kids who are like happy or smiley but hao calls mc that bc they make hao happy shdsd ok if any better mandarin speaker would like to correct me or suggest another nickname, just lmk~

check my pinned for more fics!

Zhang Hao likes to think he’s a fairly laid back person.

Or at least, that’s what he likes to think when you’ve been deep in conversation with Jiwoong for the past hour and not spending time with the person who actually invited you over (him).

Okay maybe he isn’t being fair. You’ve also, over the past hour, checked in on him and tried your best to involve him in your conversation. It’s just that Hao is an introvert and today is one of the days where he doesn’t feel like making it a three way conversation. Also they’ve mostly worked it out but he and Jiwoong still have their awkward moments so there’s that too.

“You alright Hào hào?” Well at least he can enjoy the fact you’re using the nickname that only you call him. (Because absolutely no one else is allowed to call him that ever).

“I’m fine, Xiào xiào.”

You had joined Yuehua around the same time, Zhang Hao as an idol trainee while you were preparing to go into acting. To say you were close would be an understatement. You clicked immediately, the other Yuehua trainees would joke that you were Hao’s co-parent with how often you would come over to their dorm with food.

Hao spent every free day he had off the program with you if both of you weren’t busy. Sometimes you’d even accompany him to visit his subway ads, obviously sporting a mask and hat and keeping it lowkey so as not to draw attention to yourself. While you’ve been an extra or had a line or two for a few drama gigs, you haven’t exactly made your public debut just yet.

It just so happened that you’d be working with Jiwoong on your first minor supporting role in The Good Bad Mother, alongside your actor sunbaenim in Yuehua who had the starring role. The eldest hyung also happened to have quite a bit of experience in acting and you happened to have questions. While your company sunbaenims and teachers were helpful, they were also quite busy and you didn’t want to bother them too much.

“So for kissing scenes-”

Suddenly, Hao’s full attention is on you as you ask his bandmate how one goes about filming such scenes. He’s not dumb. Hao knows once you start getting bigger roles, you might do scenes like that. But dammit, he wants to be your first kiss, not some actor who’s playing your love interest.

“You’ve never been kissed before?”

It’s one of those moments where you’re too tired from the hours and hours of PR training, Hao preparing for Boys Planet and you for the eventual conferences and public appearance you’ll make once you make your acting debut.

“It’s not that.” You sink into the sofa of the little room you’ve been in for hours, learning how to avoid getting a bad edit on camera.

“It’s just that none of them really meant anything, you know? It was for fun, for a dare or some shit like that. To figure out whether I liked boys or girls or both. I just don’t think it’s a real kiss, you know?”

“What’s a real kiss then?”

You’re quiet for a bit and Hao’s about to move on with the conversation when you speak again.

“With someone I like. I’d be nice to kiss someone I like. Someone who likes me too.”

I like you, Hao thinks. I’d like to kiss you.

He could do it. He could offer. But he’s shy and your friendship is only a few months old and he’s going to get shipped off to this Mnet program soon. So instead he says:

“That sounds nice. I’ve never thought of it that way.”

“Maybe because you’re the type to go around kissing everyone, Mr. Campus prince.”

You tease.

“Hey! I wasn’t like that at all.”

Hao protests. You grin mischievously and your conversation devolves back to light, playful back and forth.

But Hao doesn’t forget.

Maybe that’s the day that he decides to try and become the someone you like.

Jiwoong’s hands are on your shoulders. Zhang Hao’s not sure when that happened but he does know that he doesn’t like it.

“So my hands should go here?” You ask, patting Jiwoong's rib cage. He nods, expression completely placid and wholly focused on teaching you how to manoeuvre yourself.

“You can also put it on their waist, the director will be giving you instructions and you can monitor yourself on camera between takes as well.”

You nod thoughtfully, tentatively placing your hands on him. Zhang Hao’s fingers twitch, just a little. Most of the members who had been filtering in and out of the room seemed to have disappeared. It’s just him, you, and Jiwoong.

Which is why you decide to lean in, your face just about a few inches away from the eldest ZB1 member.

“So I just go like this?”

That’s it. Hao’s had enough. He can’t do this. He can’t watch you anymore.

“Xiào xiào?”

Hao’s careful not to show how happy he is when you pull away from Jiwoong and look at him. His hyung must have sensed it anyway, standing up and saying he’s supposed to meet Seobin soon. You thank him for the help, he says you can text him anytime (Hao’s not sure how to feel about that one) and then he leaves the two of you alone.

“There goes my acting teacher.” You pout a little and Hao can’t help himself.

“You came here to spend time with me, not take lessons from Jiwoong-hyung.”

“Awww, is Hào hào jealous?”

“I miss you.” He says instead of answering, hugging your side like he usually does.

You hug him back, and in a small voice, you admit.

“I’ve missed you too, Hào hào.”

There shouldn’t be anything special about the moment. You’ve done this before, hugged like this before, said things like this before. But this time, he just-

Hao pulls away, his arms still wrapped around you loosely. It’s just enough so he can see your eyes, looking at him, he can’t read you too well, he swears his heart’s beating so loudly that you can hear it. But you don’t pull away. He leans in.

His lips are soft against yours, you can feel the slightly sticky sensation of the lip balm he uses, taste a little of the tea he was drinking a while ago. It’s warm and nice and it feels perfect.

His arms slide to your waist and your fingers circle around his shoulders, holding onto the fuzzy knit fabric of his cardigan. You can smell the perfumed lotion he uses, pleasantly floral and addicting. He keeps kissing you. You keep kissing back.

Hao only stops when his heart feels like it’s going to give out, catching his breath and looking at you with your flushed cheeks and swollen lips. He can’t help but ask.

“Was that a real kiss?” I like you so, so much.

“I think it was, Hào hào.” I like you too.

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nightqueen1221 · 9 months

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Hi, sorry if I am bothering you. I really injoy your writing. If your request are open. Can I ask for Sans and Papyrus from Undertale separately, have a Human Fem s/o that is a/ dating a witch. What would it be like for them dating a witch? How would they react to seeing their s/o using magic for the first time? What would happen if them and their fem witch s/o got attacked by monsters or people and their witch s/o use their full power of magic and fight the monsters or people like a badass. Sorry, if I overdid it. Ignore this if you don't want to do this.💕

Sans

-He honestly didn't care at first. He's dating someone, that's more impressive to him than if they can use magic or not.

-Be prepared for horrible puns involving the word 'witch'.

-He'll have a few questions on things, like do you use a caldron or ride a broomstick.

-If you wear a hat, know you're going to be losing it a lot and suddenly find it on Sans' head while he's asleep.

-When he first saw you use magic, regardless of how complex or interesting it is he'll tell you he's seen better. (Which is most likely true.)

-He asks if you have a spell that will do his chores for him.😑

-Showing him any new spell/potion he just give you a thumbs up. Kinda like if a kid went up to you with something they made.

-I think the only way someone would dare challenge you is if you were in a bad neighborhood and someone tried robbing you two, or it was a Karen thinking humans and monsters shouldn't be together.

-Regardless, you kick ass and whoever you were just having a conversation with has left. Sans kinda just shrugs at it. He's truly indifferent about your abilities, you can use magic? Cool. You can't? That's cool too.

Papyrus

-He has SO many questions.

-What does your magic do? Is it all witch related magic? What's the difference between human and monster magic? How does all of it work?

-You could literally be talking for hours, he doesn't understand anything, but he's trying to keep up to what you're saying.

-"WOWIE! I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT BUT IT SOUNDS COOL!"

-He asks for you to give him lessons if possibly. If you do teach people how to use magic he'll going to be your best student.

-Showing him anything new/exciting you learn he's going to be so impressed by and wants to see more. (Unless it interferes interferes with him becoming a royal guard.)

-Reguardless on how you two get into conflict with someone, Papyrus tries resolving things in a manner without violence. Maybe this can all be solved over a puzzle or two?

-As nice and calm as he remains, this person is getting on your nerves and you've just about have had enough.

-Even if he believes the issue could have been fixed without people getting hurt, he is quite impressed by your battle prowess.

-(Bouns points if you have things like a witch hat and cauldron, because you can spot him wearing it while pretending to make potions.)

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rosemaidenvixen · 7 months

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For the Halloween Prompts:

The Owl House - King experiences his first Halloween in the Human Realm.

“Settle down kiddo you’re going to wear a hole in the carpet, you know how hard I worked to steal that thing,”

“But I can’t calm down!” King stopped scurrying in circles to run towards where Eda was laying on the couch “Any second now Luz will be here and she’s going to show me human Halloween!”

Eda just snorted and went back to her scroll “You ask me, any holiday that doesn’t involve copious amounts of apple blood is wimpy,”

Her tone was dismissive, but King could see the smile on her face.

For nearly a year it had been nonstop work rebuilding the Boiling Isles, between that and Luz’s human school King hadn’t gotten to spend nearly as much time with her as he wanted. But tonight would be different, tonight Luz was taking him along with all her friends to celebrate Halloween in the human realm.

Luz had told him all about human Halloween, about how humans dressed up in costumes and went around taking candy as protection payment against pranks. This could be one of the only times he could go into the human realm without a concealment stone. If only Luz would just get here already–

The portal door chimed, King whipping around at the sound and running towards it full force, heart leaping as he spotted the familiar human stepping through.

“Luz!”

“King!”

He leapt up and launched himself at her, Luz catching him with practiced ease and spinning him around before pulling him in for a tight hug “Hey buddy, ready for your first Halloween?”

King squeezed her back “You bet I am, did you get my costume?”

“I sure did,” she grinned down at him, one hand reaching around behind her back.

King straightened the Burger Queen crown as he raced up the steps onto the porch of the house; Luz, Amity, Hunter, Gus, and Willow following right behind him. He batted the doorbell with his paw, the door opening just as the others reached him.

“Trick or treat!” six voices coursed.

“Happy Halloween kids!” a human with curly gray hair holding a bowl stood in the door, strangely enough they were dressed the same as Luz had been on her first day at Eda’s house. Although this human’s hat didn’t look like a traffic cone “What scary costumes you all have,” the human looked down at King and smiled “What are you dressed as?”

King raised both paws triumphantly in the air, pillow case hanging heavy with candy from his grip “The King of Demons!”

“King of demons you say? Well then I’d better pay tribute,”

One by one the human went around and dropped a single piece of candy in each of their bags. Once she was done thanks and farewells were shared and soon the six of them were off again.

“Oh man Halloween is the greatest!” King shook his bag “Who would have guessed humans would make a whole holiday around a candy based protection racket!”

Luz giggled “Well you’re not wrong, but some time I’ve got to tell you about the history of Halloween,”

King scurried ahead, pointing a claw at the next house “History later, candy now!”

Luz and the others fell behind as they chatted together while King raced up the sidewalk to the house but he didn’t mind. He and Luz were spending time together and that’s what counted.

Ducking around a departing group of trick or treaters, they came up to the door of the next house. Ringing the bell and sounding off with ‘Trick or treat’ as the door opened.

The human inside was dressed almost identically to the one at the last house, but their smile didn’t quite reach their eyes.

“Oh yes, Happy Halloween kids,”

They reached out and dropped a piece of candy in King’s bag, he waited for them to give candy to Luz and the others, and waited and waited…

“You…have some candy for us?” Gus held out his bag with a grin.

The human’s expression puckered “The candy is for the little kids, you five are much too old for this,”

Luz and the others shuffled awkwardly, caught off guard. Meanwhile another group of trick or treaters, five kids and two adults, came up behind them. Waiting for the six of them to step aside so they could have their turn, intensifying the uncomfortable atmosphere.

“C’mon guys,”Amity shuffled back “Let’s just go,”

The others moved and made to leave, but not King. He stayed where he was, narrowing his eyes at the human.

No one stiffed his sister and her friends, which also made them his friends by proxy.

This human was going to regret messing with the King of Demons.

He pulled in a deep breath, tilted his head back, and let out the most pitiful whine he could manage. Luz, Willow, Amity, Hunter, and Gus as well as the human in the door, and the humans approaching behind them jolting in surprise and turning at the sound.

“Wh– why can’t my sister and her friends have candy to?” King made sure his voice came out sniveling, blinking rapidly to make his eyes large and watery.

The human in the house stammered “W– well the candy is only for the little kids so–”

“Buh– but my sister is the best,” King whimpered, pointing a trembling paw back at Luz “She and her friends skipped their party just to take me trick-or-treating, and now they don’t get any candy…”

Luz and her friends just blinked at him in surprise. The humans behind them were clearly caught off guard, the kids starting to whimper and the two adults whispering to each other, and the whispers were not happy ones.

The human in the house shut their jaw with a click and reached inside their bowl, face bright red “I– I suppose I can spare a few pieces,”

She went around dropping candy in each of their bags, each piece looking like it caused her physical pain to release.

When she reached Hunter he bowed at the waist with a flourish “Thank you for your generosity ma’am, your giving holiday spirit will not be forgotten,”

King had to hold in a laugh at the way the human’s eye twitched at that.

“Thanks for helping us out King,” Willow said as they headed back down the sidewalk.

“Think nothing of it, the King of Demons looks after his vassals,”

“Protection rackets and extortion,” Amity gave him a soft smile “You’re Eda’s kid alright,”

King practically glowed at the comment.

A ringing cut through the air and Luz pulled out her phone “Vee’s ready with the TP and silly string. Let’s hustle and try to be quick with the last few houses so we can meet on time,”

“Wait…” King slowed to a stop “What’s going on with Vee?”

Luz looked up sharply “Oh shoot did I not tell you? Once we’re finished trick or treating we’re going to meet up with Vee and Masha for Halloween pranks. Want to join us?”

“You bet I do! But who are you pranking? All the houses we went to gave us candy so–”

“Jacob Hopkins,” Gus said without missing a beat.

King blinked up at all of them in turn “...tell me you have some epic pranks planned,”

Hunter chuckled “There might be a mannequin dressed as a martian involved,”

“Then count me in,” King reached up and grasped Luz’s hand with his paw and tugged her forward along the sidewalk “But first let’s max out on candy,”

Luz laughed and allowed him to pull her along, the others following “Of course, can’t forget the candy,”

“Pranks, mayhem, candy, this Halloween holiday is the greatest! Next year we should bring the Collector!”

Already rushing ahead towards the next house, King missed the looks of panic that simultaneously flashed across all the others’ faces. All of them glancing around at each other uneasily.

Luz forced out a chuckle “Sure bud, we can do that…”

#the owl house #luz noceda #king clawthorne #titanlights #gus porter #amity blight #willow park #hunter #rmvwrites #halloween prompts #fanfic

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genuine-wrestleboy · 7 months

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the attraction (3/4)

words: 4,609

((here on ao3))

It’s a twenty minute drive from the hospital to Mike’s apartment, and you clutch your cup of sludgy cooling coffee like a lifeline the entire time. Maybe you’re an idiot to have agreed to this, but the two of you desperately need to talk, and Mike had seemed insistent that it would be better if you did it somewhere private.

“I’ll probably need to show you something,” he’d sighed. “It’s…complicated.”

So here you are, anxious and exhausted in Mike’s cramped kitchen, palms sweating against your slowly disintegrating paper cup. You’re too nauseous to actually drink it—a feat which would probably involve a distressing amount of chewing at this point—but Mike doesn’t offer to take it, and you don’t ask to throw it away.

“You want anything?” asks Mike, hovering by the cupboards, clearly unused to playing host. “I have, uh, not a lot, honestly.”

“I don’t think I could keep anything down right now anyway,” you tell him.

He looks at the cup in your hands.

“Right,” he says, and drops into the seat opposite you. He spreads his bandaged hands along the tabletop, yellowing laminate that curls at the edges where it’s peeled away from the plywood beneath. Your fingers itch with the urge to pick at it.

“First off,” says Mike, “I want to tell you that I’m sorry.”

You hadn’t expected that. “What for?”

“That you got involved in this,” he replies, waving a hand, all this shit. “I should’ve known he’d try to make it someone else’s problem.”

You lean forward. “Why?”

“Because he’s a miserable old bastard,” seethes Mike, as close to angry as you’ve heard him. “And misery loves company.”

A miserable old bastard? That doesn’t sound like the man you met at all. Your Springtrap had been self-assured and a little smug, but he'd been fun, and—well, a lot of things you feel sort of dirty even thinking about in front of Mike now. His father. What a fucked-up position you’ve managed to get yourself into.

“Maybe he’s changed,” you suggest weakly.

Mike’s hands clench into fists against the table. “He hasn’t. I—gimme a second, I’m trying to figure out where to start, here.”

He leans back and yanks off his hat to scrub a hand across his head. His hair, where he has it, is choppily cut, like he does it himself more on memory than in a mirror. It hangs in his eyes and down the back of his neck in patches, coppery brown streaked with grey. Big, haphazard chunks of it are thin enough to see down to his scalp or missing entirely, exposing skin that’s the same sallow purple as the rest of him. It’s a frankly baffling amount of attention to detail for an operation like Fazbear’s Fright.

Mike meets your eyes, and you realize with a guilty start that you've been openly staring.

“Maybe that’s as good a place as any.” He sets his elbows on the table, his hat dangling from one hand. He doesn't quite look at you when he speaks. “Here goes. My father is a brilliant man, but he—he’s ambition without empathy, he runs on, on fear, and ego.”

“Fear?” you ask.

“The idea of death terrifies him, I think,” Mike tells you. “And it…annoys him. ‘Someone like me should never have to do something as pedestrian as dying,’ that sort of thing.” His accent gets stronger for the impression, and you nearly slosh coffee all over yourself. It makes him sound almost exactly like Springrap.

Thankfully, Mike doesn’t seem to notice your reaction. “I was just a kid,” he continues, “I didn’t understand it back then, but for years he was doing these experiments, trying to figure out how to make himself live forever. He wanted—I think he was trying to locate the soul, I’m not sure. I have all his old research, but I can still only understand so much of it.”

Every hair on your body is on end, your skin clammy and prickling with electricity. “Did he do it?”

Mike levels a sobering look at you. “Yes. But it wasn’t what he wanted. And I don't think he fully understood it all, either. He started experimenting on himself at some point, but in the end what happened to him was an accident. What happened to me wasn't."

His eyes keep you pinned in place as he reaches up and pulls the surgical mask aside.

Time softens, treacle-slow, a long, precious pull of a moment where nothing has changed. It's not a surprise that Mike is painted under the mask, he's painted everywhere. The prosthetics are unexpected, sure, but only because they were hidden, which is a shame more than it's a shock. They’re stunning work.

"Did you do this yourself?" you ask in the second before impact.

Seeing Mike's full expression is a novelty you have no time to appreciate, because his mouth opens with a stretch of visible tendon, and when he says your name, you can see his tongue move through his cheek, and the moment snaps with the force of a speeding car.

He isn't painted anywhere.

"I know it's a lot, just try to breathe." His voice is soft with a terrible care, and something that shares a border with regret.

Your mouth moves wordlessly. You feel like you’re staring at a window made of thick, frosted glass, and on the other side of the glass is something pacing, growling, waiting, your world about to be changed irrevocably. But on your side of the window is emptiness. Silence. Such utter, endless silence that the sound of shattering would be a relief.

"You should see the rest of me," Mike jokes thinly.

If the sound you make in response is a laugh, it's a very wet laugh. Still, the tension shatters, and relief floods you like waking from a nightmare.

"Does it hurt?" you ask.

Mike gives you a wan smile. "You recover fast—no, I appreciate it, I was worried there would be screaming. Yes, it does, but I've gotten used to it. You can get used to just about anything."

"Can I ask what happened?"

"I think it would be good for you to know." He crosses both arms across his chest, almost protectively. "For a while, my father was keeping prisoners for his experiments. One of them was my younger sister."

"God," you breathe.

"Naturally, they wanted out, and the way that they came up with went through me. Literally," he adds with a wry laugh.

"Your sister did this to you? Mike, that's horrible."

His attempt at a smile is a tight-lipped thing, closer to a grimace, or a wince. "It was and wasn't her. Death changes you. What my father discovered can capture consciousness, but only a shadow of it, and shadows are easily warped. Besides," he adds, shrugging, "I can't blame her. She thought I was him."

It's a lot to take in. "Your sister…was that, did your father—?"

"In his defense I think he regretted it," says Mike, bitterness thick in his voice. "At least until it served his purpose."

Blood starts to seep through your teeth from where anxiety is gnawing a hole in your lip. Through him, you think, does that mean—?

"You don't seem like a shadow," you venture.

"Do I not? I feel like one sometimes." Sighing, he loosens the bandages around his neck like a weary business man loosening a tie. "Remnant captures the dead, but it preserves the living. I got a dose of it before I died, and now I can't." He bites out the last few words with an ire that catches you off guard.

"Do you want to die?" It's too personal a question, you know that the second it leaves your mouth, but Mike just frowns thoughtfully.

"It doesn't matter what I want. If he's still alive, then I have to be here to stop him."

He lifts his eyes to yours, the piercing white pupils anchored in inky blackness, lays his arm out across the table. With precise, practiced motions, he strips the bandages from it, layer by layer revealing a taut stretch of desiccated, purpled skin. It clings tightly to the bones beneath, highlighting the shape of them with alarming apparency. Down by the bony wrist the skin parts here and there to dry, stringy muscle, fused to the scar-silk of the skin above.

Mike looks down at his arm almost like it’s unfamiliar to him. “My body keeps trying to heal itself, but it doesn’t remember how. Nothing really connects where it’s supposed to, but everything still works, more or less. I don’t need to eat or sleep, I breathe out of habit more than anything else . I used to hope the Remnant would wear off eventually, but it’s been…a long time. I think maybe I could go on like this forever.”

Something nudges at your mind. “You used that word before, Remnant. What does it mean?”

It takes a beat; Mike seems to come to, as if out of a dream. He blinks, rolls down his sleeve. “Remnant is what my father called his discovery. It’s…the essence of life, in a way, the energy a person creates and leaves behind. He found a way to distill it, to move it around in its purest form. He was injecting himself with it towards the end. That’s why I’m showing you this, so that you understand what I mean when I tell you that he shouldn’t be alive, and that what’s in that suit is never going to leave it.”

“Never going to leave it?” It’s a very good thing that you’re sitting down, because all the feeling has gone out of your legs.

“The Remnant in his system has been trying to heal my father for thirty years. If I had to guess, I’d say that that suit is a part of him now, or he’s a part of it.” Mike taps the tabletop for emphasis, then spreads his hands. “That line’s always been thin for him, anyway.”

Part of the suit. You can’t even begin to wrap your head around that. The thought puts a hard, panicked lump in your throat that you laugh out nervously before it can turn into tears.

"You make him sound like some kind of monster.”

"He is a monster," says Mike instantly. "But he was a monster long before he got himself springlocked."

You remember your friends using that word, springlocked , but you don’t remember what it means. You’re starting to feel stupid asking Mike to explain every other thing he says, though, and if the mystery of it distracts you from the rest of his assertion, well, that’s nobody’s business but your own.

Mike starts to reach across the table, but stops just before he touches you, his hand shrinking back on itself.

“I don’t want to scare you, for what it’s worth, but—listen, I can’t tell you that you shouldn’t be scared. Whatever reason my father has for wanting to find you, knowing him, he’s not going to stop until he does.”

You hope the thrill that goes up your spine at that looks enough like fear to pass any possible scrutiny.

“What am I supposed to do?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” Mike admits. “I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer for you. I promise I’ll figure something out, though, and you’re welcome to stay here until I do. I know it’s not much, but it might be safer for you not to be alone.”

You stare down into your coffee; you’re tired enough that drinking it is almost starting to sound like a good idea. “This has been the weirdest night of my life.”

Mike hides his laugh behind a hand. “For what it’s worth, you’re handling it surprisingly well.”

“I’m freaking out on the inside, I promise.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” says Mike indulgently.

Thin, watery light has begun to seep its way around the edges of Mike’s curtains, along with faint, warbled bird calls and the sinking sensation of a sunrise you hadn’t meant to see. None of it feels real, but then again neither do you, right now.

“Could I—?” You press your fingers against your forehead, kneading back a lurking headache. “Do you think that maybe step one of whatever we do could involve me taking a nap?”

“Oh, yeah, of course, I, uh—” Mike stuffs his hat back onto his head and slips the mask back over his face, pushing himself away from the table. “The couch is pretty comfortable, but honestly I’ve barely used the bed, you’re more than welcome to sleep there if you want.”

“The couch is fine.” You’re not sure you could make it much farther, anyway. Moving stiffly, you pour out the dregs of your coffee into the sink and drop the crushed cup into the trash.

Sleep drags you onto the couch with a firm hand and pulls you under before you can even think to kick off your shoes.

The room is bright with midday sun when you pull yourself back into consciousness. You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and almost immediately regret it. Your head spins, and you slump back against the cushions, swallowing audibly with a throat that feels swollen and raw. Most of your body feels achey and bruised, including a warm, guilty soreness between your legs. At some point while you were passed out, Mike must’ve brought you a blanket, and you gather it around your shoulders as you lever yourself to your feet. It’s a thin, tatty flannel, pilled and faded with age, and the only sign of life in the otherwise spartan room. For all the warm gold light, it’s a pretty bleak space, the bare bones of somewhere to live in the strictest of terms and not much more. Particleboard furniture and bare white walls, a tiny tv that reflects your face back to you in warped duplicate in its curved screen. How long has he been living here? How long was he planning to stay?

You cross the room back into the kitchen, fumble through the cupboards for a glass. It’s where Mike finds you, sipping lukewarm tap water from a chipped Chipper and Sons mug. He’s changed out of his uniform into an equally shapeless sweater and slacks and a new baseball cap with an insignia that might be for a sports team. His face is covered again, too, and you want to tell him that it doesn’t have to be, but a little voice at the back of your mind stops you before the words fully form.

“Good morning,” he says amiably.

“Morning,” you return. “What time is it?”

He checks the watch hanging loosely on his thin wrist. “A little after one.”

You pause for the mental math and wince. “Got my full eight hours, I guess. Sorry for making you wait.”

Mike shrugs. “I kept myself busy. Seemed like you needed the rest.”

“Yeah.” You honestly wouldn’t have been all that surprised to learn that you’d slept for longer, you‘d been all but dead on your feet after the long night, and Mike’s marathon of nasty revelations certainly hadn’t helped matters. Not that you blame him for any of it, or begrudge him the telling, but in the light of day, with a clear head on your shoulders—clear er, at least—your aimless distress has started to solidify into the sure shape of a plan. “Could I bother you for one more favor?”

“It’s not a bother.” Mike leans against the counter opposite you and tucks his fingers into his pockets.

“If I’m gonna be staying here a while, do you think I could get a few things from my place? Maybe my car too if there’s somewhere to park it around here."

"I don't see why not." Mike scratches his chin idly under the mask. “The lot’s technically only for residents, but a lot of the units around here are empty, and they don’t monitor it too closely. Did you want to go now?”

“If you’re not busy—”

“I'm not—just let me find my keys. You can leave that in the sink, I forgot I even had that old thing.”

Mike drops you off in front of your building with his blanket still wrapped around your shoulders. You watch him punch your number into an absolute brick of a flip phone with a sort of baffled fondness, then a guilt you have to clear out of your throat like phlegm before you can speak.

"I, uh, think I'm gonna stop by the hospital on my way back," you tell him, hoisting your tone desperately upwards and hoping it sounds light.

Mike looks up from his phone. He's wearing a big pair of black plastic sunglasses on top of everything else, so even the slim chance you might've had at reading his expression is gone.

"You're not responsible for what happened to them, you know."

"What? Yeah, I—I know, that's not why I'm going." Should you feel responsible? The thought hadn't even occurred to you.

"Okay." He doesn't sound entirely convinced. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No," you say a little too quickly. "No, you don't have to do that. It must be, like, one of the safest places I could be, right? Besides, I kinda got the vibe that you don't really love hospitals."

Mike huffs a dry laugh. "Your vibes aren't far off. Just…be careful. Keep in touch."

"I will," you assert. "Thanks, thank you, for the ride. I'll see you later."

He waits until you're inside to pull away, and the thoughtful gesture sits in your stomach like lead.

Home sweet home.

You start stripping down as soon as you're through the door, set Mike's sweatshirt to soak in the sink with a lot of hydrogen peroxide, and take the hottest shower of your life. Moving on automatic, you dig your suitcase out of the back of your closet and stuff some clothes and random essentials into it. Then, remembering Mike’s cupboards, you toss in all the food that you think might survive the journey back.

Step by step, one thing and then another without stopping, because right now it feels like maybe momentum is all you have. At some point, you redress. At some point, you slam the car door shut. At some point, you pass the exit to the hospital and you don't slow down.

At some point, you come back to yourself standing in the front lot of the burned-out shell of Fazbear's Fright. The smell of ash is still thick on the air.

Glass crunches under your shoes as you approach. If a building could look hungry, then this one does, the gutted windows like gaping toothless mouths strung with fluttering yellow ribbons of police tape. Big chunks of the roof have collapsed inwards, jagged slats of concrete sending their reaching rebar fingers skyward. You pick your way around, searching for a viable point of entry. It’s eerily silent, no birds or bugs or traffic sounds, no other signs of life. You’d half expected to be turned away halfway down the road, but whoever left all this tape seems to want no more to do with this place than the wildlife.

The main exit door gives after three firm shoves with a horrible screech. You clear a neat semicircle free of debris as you fight it open, raising a cloud of black dust that tickles the back of your throat. You press a sleeve over your nose and mouth and step inside, wait for things to settle. Maybe you should’ve asked Mike to borrow a mask.

The silence presses in again, and you want to call out, but something stops the process in your throat, and no sound comes. The bruisey swelling. The black dust. The tiny, wailing part of you that knows that there’s no going back from the choice once it’s made.

Inside, Fazbear’s Fright is a maze of free-standing walls. Late afternoon sun slants through in mote-thick shafts of light, throwing the sad remnants into stark clarity. Most of the building is obviously inaccessible, crushed by its own roof or dropping away into blackness where the floor has given way, but you make it far enough in to make out the charred shape of the employees only door, blocked by a barrier of fallen beams.

You walk on a little further, turning the corner into the hallway that had been so painstakingly papered with adverts just hours ago. The fire fed well here. High black stalagmites of ash cling to the walls, their peaks lapping at a ceiling somehow miraculously still intact. You sweep your phone’s flashlight over the damage, perhaps quixotically–what can you actually expect to have survived?

Down along the scorched baseboards, something glints gold in your beam. You sweep by a second time and catch it again, the corner of something reaching out from under the twisted black debris. Crouching, you edge closer, testing out the floor in front of you by inches as it starts to groan beneath you. A little closer, a little closer—

The wood cracks under your foot, wedging your boot between two saw-toothed slats, and you cry out in panicked surprise. You fall back, scrambling to free yourself and nearly losing your boot in the process. More of the floor gives way as you pry yourself free and propel yourself back towards the wall.

You sit there for a moment, sucking in shaky breaths, letting your racing heart return to its normal resting rhythm. There's a new, deep gouge in the leather of your boot, and a sluggishly bleeding slash along the skin of your leg. Is that going to be a tetanus thing? Is tetanus lockjaw, or is that something else?

The glint of gold winks in the corner of your eye. You turn towards it, then back down to your leg, then back again. Well, you didn't come all this way for nothing, and if—if what you came for isn't here, then what the hell. You scoot yourself along the wall, spreading your weight as far out as you can, stretching an arm out in front of you. The tip of your longest finger brushes something that, somewhat to your surprise, feels cold. You risk another inch and manage to hook the edge of it, but when you start to pull, you realize that whatever you’re trying to grab is much bigger and heavier than you’d anticipated.

“Oh, come on.” You lay yourself out as far as you dare, hugging the wall tightly, and manage to get three fingers over the lip of the object. You tug, once, twice, and it starts to loose from the junk piled on top of it and slide towards you. Your momentary celebration is halted as a low groaning sound rises from the shifting rubble, your meddling threatening whatever delicate balance the building has settled into. You freeze, waiting, still as stone. Then you readjust your grip and yank, ripping the object from its spot and rolling yourself up and backwards as the ceiling collapses with a screech and huge cloud of ash.

You lay on your back just outside of the radius, your prize on your chest, laughter rising wheezily from your throat.

Your prize turns out to be a frame, still somehow mostly intact. Inside is the stained purple bow tie you remember from your tour, half-unpinned, mounted next to the photo of someone wearing a yellow rabbit costume, waving to the camera. You touch the glass with delicate fingertips, a wonder, a recognition, rising in your chest.

It’s not a big frame, but it’s heavy, and lugging it out to your car is a sweatier endeavor than you’d have liked. Honestly this has all been so much messier than anticipated, you’ll probably need to shower again, not to mention what you’re about to do to the inside of your car. Then again, your parking spot is pretty well hidden—you’d chosen somewhere in a well-shrouded patch of trees a little up the road, where any lingering cops would be less likely to spot you. Maybe it won’t be such a big deal if you just change here really quickly.

First things first, you fumble through your glove box for some hand sanitizer and squeeze a glob onto your leg; it stings like a bitch, but that has to be better than an infection. You clean your hands a little that way too, before digging out a tshirt you can use as a rag to give yourself a cursory wipedown everywhere else. The smell of smoke sticks to you thick as if you were still in the building, and maybe it’s because you have all the fresh air and greenery contrasting with it, now, but it’s taken on a sweet rot smell, like burnt roadkill. It grows in strength as you start peeling off your soiled clothes, until you’re almost gagging on it. God, you’re just going to throw all these away, there’s no way that smell is ever coming out.

Behind you, a heavy footfall in the fallen leaves. Ice roots down your spine, fizzling out across your skin, gooseflesh and foolish hope.

“Well, well—” a wet, ragged breath “—what a welcome.”

Before you can react, a huge hand, more metal than mitt, seizes the back of your neck, forcing your face down against the upholstery of your backseat.

“Running Michael’s errands for him now, are you?” His voice is like an old recording of a purr, scratched and warped almost beyond recognition. Springtrap drags a claw against your hipbone, teasing at the band of your panties, and you feel the skin split at his touch.

“No, no, that’s not—I came looking for you.” Your neck is at an angle that makes it hard to catch your breath. “He doesn’t know I’m here, I didn’t want—please, I didn’t tell him. I don’t think he’d—it’s none of his business, right? I don’t, I wouldn’t —”

Springtrap chuckles lowly. “You’re babbling. Are you afraid?”

You let out a little, gasping breath. "No."

A long-eared shadow falls over you; Springtrap nuzzles against your cheek, your ear, that slow, struggling inhale, shallow and guttering. “Liar. I can smell it on you. And that isn’t all I can smell.”

Blood spills over and trickles along your thigh, and you shudder. “Please—”

“There, there, darling. You’ll get what’s coming to you.” He trails a hand along your back, up under your t-shirt, all those long, sharp fingers twitching like a spider in its web. Your skin burns in his wake, with need, with the long, bright scratches that he leaves behind. Up between your shoulderblades, a neat snkt that cleaves your bra in halves.

“You know who I am now, don’t you?”

You squirm in his hold, but he’s iron, immovable. “Yes.”

“Why did you come back?” His voice is as sharp as his claws, tight against the curve of your waist. Here and there you feel him break skin, feel the sting where he bites into you. Your blood beads up at his fingertips, your blood rushes downwards, your blood sings through your veins and throbs in your heart until you can taste your pulse on your tongue.

“I had to," you say.

“Had to?” asks Springtrap. Sly curiosity creeps into his voice, and you arch your back, desperate for contact. "You're playing the fool, my dear, and you should know that I don't suffer fools."

You let out a cry of pained surprise as one of his fingers swipes a sharp path from waist to thigh, shredding any clothing in its path.

Hot, foul breath on your cheek like a caress, Springtrap's tone indulgent and fond, "You came back because you know who you belong to, isn't that right?"

"Oh," you breathe. Just like that you're something helpless and needy again, eagerly molding yourself into whatever shape fits best in his hands. "Yes."

Springtrap urges your hips back with a growl. "Yes?"

"Yes, sir," you comply immediately, want burning in you with the same bruising familiarity as the the fingers on your neck. Like an anchoring star behind your breastbone, storm-wild and wailing to drown out the last lingering whisper of logic languishing at the back of your mind.

Your breath is a solid knot in the hollow of your throat, and your hair catches and pulls in the pinching joints of Springtrap’s hand, and you want, and you want, and it’s a terrible, clutching thing. It’s the stench of rot and smoke, the dark, angry promise of his voice.

"Say it," he hisses. There's an open hunger in his voice, a knife's edge balance between his cool facade and the inferno underneath.

"I'm yours." You wish you could see him, but you'd be lying if you said this position wasn't doing something for you. "Please, please, I—god, make me yours."

Cool air rushes against you as Springtrap peels your panties to one side, and you're already so on edge that it's enough to make you cry out. You're dizzy with your desire and helpless under his hands, and Springtrap drags a knuckle through your wetness and chuckles.

"You really did come here with this in mind, didn't you? My needy little slut."

"I—ah!—you were looking for me." How can you explain that it's not up to you, anymore, that you'll come back again and again, always, for as long as he wants you?

"And now I've found you." Springtrap hums thoughtfully. "Tell me, darling, what do you think happens next?"

#springtrap x reader #springtrap #springtrap fnaf #william afton x reader #my fic #little bit of a lore dump in this one sorryyyy

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totkdaily · 2 months

Text

Day 49: Hateno School, Secrets, and History

In the morning, I report back to Sophie. She says Cece loves the plain, slow life here. She thinks Cece and Reede want the same things. I should speak to him.

On the way to the inn I speak with Leop. He and his son-in-law Worten like things simple, but his daughter Prima loves Cece. This thing really is tearing families apart.

Worten and Prima run the inn. Prima's nagging him to wear a Cece hat, so he's hiding on the veranda.

I find Hateno's Goddess statue and grab stamina to make two even circles. I should probably collect some hearts next time.

At the Mayor's House I chat to Clavia, his wife. Reede's got a secret shed and she wants to know why. He goes in at midday, apparently.

I wonder if the nearby wells would get me under the shed, but then I see Reede's daughter heading to the school and I decide I'd like to see it.

It's a beautifully cheerful building, one of Hudson's I think.

Symin is advertising for teachers on the board outside! Is he here?

Symin!

As good as it is to see old friends, I don't enjoy having to tell yet another person that I came back without Zelda.

He says the Princess built this school.

There's a notebook upstairs with evaluations - Symin's addressed them to Zelda.

Aster, Medda's daughter. Active, loves her father, likes tomatoes, optimistic.

Karin, the mayor's daughter. Kind but shy, not confident but perceptive. Loves maths and helping her father, may one day be a scholar.

Azu, Ivee's brother, Amira's son. AKA A-Zoom, hero. Used to be best friends with Sefaro but Sefaro is now busy at the dye shop.

Sefaro, Sayge's son. Firebrand, but bright. Reads adult books and about the Calamity.

They sound like a great group of kids.

Symin writes that he had some kind of premonition before the Upheaval - he felt it before the Calamity also. He hopes the Princess will be safe with me at her side.

Well. That didn't work. I failed.

I sit in on Symin's Calamity lesson. He reminds me that there was another Princess and another Swordsman 10,000 years ago, with a Sword that Seals the Darkness.

It sets me to thinking. How long ago were the Zonai, exactly? Was that Zelda, the Princess from 10,000 years ago? In which case, who exactly was the hero?

The kids don't even believe the story. I nip back to Kakariko for a picture of the screen they have that depicts those events.

I should know my history better. Symin says the 10,000 years ago Calamity involved the Sheikah and the Divine Beasts. Zelda's gone even further back than that... but even then, there was a Princess, a Sword, and an Ancient Hero.

It's so strange to be standing here as Symin recounts the events of our Calamity. The loss of the Champions, Zelda's power, my healing sleep…

Azu wants to be like the ancient hero - he's even wearing green.

The next lesson is home economics. What does Goron spice, Hylian rice and monster extract make? The kids don't believe you can eat monster extract. Kilton's the only guy I know who sells it, and he said he was going to Tarrey Town… Maybe I should head over that way once I'm finished here and fetch some, so the kids can give it a try.

Now, Reede's secret shed. The tunnels under the wells are incredibly convoluted - but if there's a bubbulfrog, I can't find it. I do, however, manage to ascend into Reede's shed and read his journal.

He's trying to breed a new pumpkin. Him and Nack are working on a Cece-inspired pumpkin to appeal to the youth.

I go and speak to Reede, and it seems that the new pumpkin is only half of his plan. The other half is to bring back an old taste that his grandfather collaborated on… is he talking about cheese? Because I already helped Koyin make cheese, days ago. I give him the sample Koyin gave me. He gives me 100 rupees for it, to be fair.

I catch Clavia on her way to bed and tell her about the secret pumpkin - she gives me some tomatoes in return.

Speaking of Koyin… I don't think she was wearing a Cece hat. I climb the hill and give her and her dad mushrooms. Dantz reminds me of his need for acorns, so I head into the forest for some squirrel hunting. It takes me the night to find one.

#totkdaily #day 49 #the school is so good i love it #exactly where zelda would be happy #building a future #totk #loz #zelda #legend of zelda

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tiredboogawwo · 9 months

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Really Stupid Tenya Au+Art

Ok so by the title you can probably tell that I have little faith in my Aus. So here we go:

Basically Tenya as the Lov/Jaku Traitor. [wait! That doesn't make sense!?] I feel UA traitor stuff is really overdone, so basically after his teacher (I'm one of those "ooo tensei was friends with his teachers and they hung out with tenya as a kid!" people) is almost killed at the USJ incident, Tenya says: Ayo thats not right, and starts looking heavily into them.

This eventually leads him to Jaku Hospital. Questioning whether he should really get involved in something this serious, he gives himself time to ponder it. Then his brother is almost killed. And all sh1t hits the fan. Tenya jumps the gun, and fast. Hearing the rumors of the hero killer and the lov somehow working together (not quite true bro) he fakes his personal information and goes undercover as a maintenance worker at the hospital. Finding out horrors, secrets, and tragedies galore, how will he get himself and those close to him out of the mess the lov and he himself made?

Not only that, Pretending that everything was fine when his brother was attacked was one thing, but keeping up a malicious act around those you wish to deceive also seems to bleed into his hero life too....

But hey, maybe he does make a better villain than a hero?

Art+ more hcs/facts

Au stuff:

1) He gets no sleep. Like maybe an hour, bro is working the night shift all while risking his life and going to UA, he lives off coffee

2) He has a bunch of oil stains, and god knows what else on him at all times from repairs

3) His hat hair is insane

4) He wear contacts and hides a lot of his hair with the hat, but the contacts make his eyes itch and he just generally struggles with them.

5) :)) because of his lack of sleep, and odd behavior the UA staff start to suspect he's the UA traitor.

6) Tenya finds himself slipping. Different acts, whether it being the one that everything is fine at school, or the malicious and heartless act he puts on at his job, they bleed together sometimes at school, where he feels the safest. He's tired. Everything hurts. He's constantly working or exercising or studying. He's starting to slip, and he knows it. But he can't stop, not when he's so close

7) Aizawa first catches on that Tenya is hiding something when he passes out one time during gym. Tenya is a straight laced student, so he of all people would get an adequate amount of sleep. Not only that, but he made excuses, something that the kid he knows wouldn't do.

OK I FEEL THIS WAS KINDA WACK BUT PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK IN THE COMMENTS

I genuinely need to know, I feel it was wack. Also also, I wanna see some villain/hero Tenya clashing a bit in this au, you're free to use this idea but please give some credit

#art #mha fanart #iida tenya #tenya lida #mha tenya #tenyacentric #tenya au #lov traitor #ua traitor #mha #aizawa shouta #tensei iida #usj #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #hero killer

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greymoonfeelings · 1 year

Text

Ho, Ho, Hoe

pairing: Jake Seresin x GN! reader

word count: 700

warnings: sexual comments, sex toy mention

note: enjoy slutty santa jake at the bottom. unfortunately a paragraph may be doubled because my tumblr has been glitching.

•••

It’s your first Christmas at the Hard Deck and Penny has you in charge of the annual party. Since you had planned successful theme nights at the bar previously, she decided you were the better person for the job.

She explained that most of the servicemen wouldn’t be able to spend the holidays with their families, so she tried to do something for them every year, but felt her attempts always fell short.

“I think I always make them even more depressed, but maybe this year you could help bring them some holiday cheer.”

Great, no pressure at all.

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you take in his attire. Jake walks confidently through the room, wearing only a pair of dark red shorts, a Santa hat, and a fake white beard. He’s forgone a shirt, putting his toned chest on display.

Your boyfriend comes to sit beside you at the bar counter. He places a kiss on the top of your head as he greets you and the white fake hair of the beard tickles your face.

“Oh my god, Jake. Are you kidding me? What the hell are you wearing?”

“Like what you see?” Your boyfriend flashes you a cocky smile while making a show of flexing his muscles.

“You know there’s gonna be children here, right?”

“Of course, I know that.” Jake’s voice wavers slightly. He did not know that.

He was under the impression that this would be adults only, but now it made sense why Coyote had been so excited when Jake lost their bet. At first, having to be sexy Santa all day didn’t seem too bad, but now that kids were involved he was a little wary. Still, Jake Seresin was never one to back down.

“You’re going to hell, Seresin.”

“And you’ll be there right there alongside me, sweet cheeks.”

“Ha ha, Jake, but if you insist on being Santa, can you at least put a shirt on?”

“Sorry. No can do.”

“Why not?”

“I may have lost a bet to Javy.”

“Of course you did.” You shake your head in disbelief, wondering why you’re even slightly surprised that you had been correct in your assumption that these clothes, or lack thereof, had something to do with his friends.

“C’mon sugar, admit it. The look is turning you on a little bit.”

You were used to Jake’s dirty comments but something about this one has you nearly gagging.

“You disgust me.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” Jake smirks as he squeezes your thigh.

You roll your eyes, groaning at his continued flirting. “I’m gonna tell Penny to ring the bell.”

Jake throws his hands up in defeat. “Oh c’mon!”

“Better get your wallet out, Jakey.”

You turn to walk away but your boyfriend grabs your wrist and twirls you into his lap.

“But you never told Santa what you want for Christmas.”

“Well you see, Santa, there’s only one thing that I really want this year. A big, huge… check.”

Jake eyes you. “Nothing else?” He grinds his hips up against your ass to give you a hint.

“Oh, I see.” You lean closer to your boyfriend, your lips hovering over his ear as you whisper.

“I could really use a new dildo. The current one’s not really doing it for me anymore. It’s a great size but it came attached to a guy and he’s become a little too obsessed with me.” You back away with a smirk, admiring the look of shock on Jake’s face.

“You’re such a little brat.” He slaps your ass as you walk away.

You shout over your shoulder, “You started it!”

#heather writes #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fluff #tgm fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction

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lizzie-is-here · 1 year

Text

🎃halloween with the avengers and co!🎃

summary: um. you can read so

warnings: this is literally me rambling, haunted places, animated bucky having like double d’s wtf, the most unorganized thing i’ve ever made don’t judge me

a/n: this is so messy but i had so much fun just writing whatever came to mind, apologies for jumping all over the place lol but hope you get a laugh out of it anyways 🤍🤍

OH MY GOD ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE DONE THIS

BUT YALL SHOULD KNOW THAT THE HOLIDAYS ARE MY FAVORITE THING

I MAY BE AN ATHEIST BUT CHRISTMAS IS THE BEST SHIT EVER

and i honestly spent halloween in my dorm bingeing movies and i’m rewatching werewolf by night and just realized i need to write for halloween so oops

halloween with the team is the best shit ever.

you want to wear a costume? no party like a stark party.

sure, some people are lazy and show up in their suits and call it a day (cough sam cough)

but it’s well made up for by peter and harley both going as tony (and arguing over who did it better) and kamala dressing as carol

yelena and nat would dress up as each other and make fun of the other

“i’m natasha and i’m an avenger and i love tight suits with no pockets so my ass looks good when i pose”

“i’m yelena and i have an addiction to sriracha and versace”

tony was going to show up as himself, but morgan wrangled the stark family into dressing as food. she’s a cheeseburger, obvi

steven convinced marc to go as an archaeologist, but when the latter fronts he instantly yanks off the funny hat and passes it to layla, who’s honestly just there to watch the chaos

wanda goes with her usual sokovian fortune teller costume, but the twins are more than excited to prance around the tower in search of candy

america brings a share of multiversal candy, some of which isn’t… exactly… edible

speaking of which, if you hand out candy instead, you end up setting up a trick-or-treating path in the tower for the younger team members, with each of the rooms serving as a stop

the eternals are split on halloween. ikaris, being the stoic dramatic hoe he is, thinks it’s overhyped. sersei’s happy to see little kids, sprite likes scaring people, you know

but with all of your experiences combined, none of you scare easily

the world’s greatest heroes can tank any horror movie with ease, barely startling at jumpscares or violent scenes

but they DO NOT handle haunted areas well

this is entirely based on my experience at the ohio state reformatory AKA the most haunted prison in the us. i went up for fall break since i used to live near mansfield before we moved, and HOLY FUCK YALL

THAT SHITS HAUNTED HAUNTED

i sat in the chair room :)

and it felt like someone punched the right side of my face :(

my right eye teared up and got super red :(((

but i got a piece of brick from the chapel :D

probably have an attachment now :((((

anyway, say you convince the team to visit. even better, you rope tony into paying for the ghost tour

every single noise will send the group jumping

bucky pulls a knife out of his pocket the moment you enter the west attic

steve starts out a skeptic but ends up refusing to even enter the chapel

peter freaking out bc “omg sam and colby and shane and ryan were here”

things are just made worse when wanda starts to mumble about “restless energy”

fuck that if the scarlet witch is nervous then you can be too

just finished werewolf by night moving on to the zombie episode of what if?

goddamn animated bucky has bigger tits than me

are y’all seein this shit

ok back on track

if jack and elsa are somehow involved there’ll be too many werewolf jokes made

but he’s too much of a sweetheart to really protest them

i love them so much and we only have like an hour of them 🥺

scott would dress up as an ant. i’m not taking criticism. he would try to make hope dress up as a wasp but when she refuses cassie does it.

bingeing halloween movies

arguing whether or not nightmare before christmas is a halloween or christmas movie

deciding the only right decision aka it’s a halloween movie stfu

shuri would come up with a slay costume i just know she would 😭

thor and jane would have a cringey couples costume cmon guys it’s literally canon

katy would show up as a hot dog

like the worst discount hot dog costume you’ve ever seen

shang and xialing would be forced to be ketchup and mustard respectively

once again argue with the wall

overall, you’ll have fun. it’ll be chaotic as fuck, but when it comes to the avengers, what isn’t?

hope everyone had a fun halloween! now go buy that discount candy bitches!

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #tony stark #natasha romanoff #peter parker #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #yelena belova #kamala khan #werewolf by night #scott lang #halloween #marvel halloween #halloween with the avengers

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sigmaleph · 1 year

Text

Fiction, ~800 words

Warlock

She’d expected the eyes. Everyone knows what red eyes means, and she’d been ready with coloured contacts even before she’d done the deal. She had practice wearing contacts already, prescription, but she didn’t need that any more; it was a simple replacement to make.

The teeth had hurt like a motherfucker coming in, she’d been on painkillers for days, but after they were done they were not noticeable. Maybe if she smiled more, but how often do you notice the sharpness of a stranger’s teeth?

She’d started wearing her hair differently, fighting the ingrained habit of tucking it behind her ears. Since the ears had changed next.

When the horns came, she almost broke down crying. Because, again, they hurt, but also, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Only a few changes, everyone agreed. She’d triple checked that; nobody got horns from just a sixth. And yet they were there, growing on her head. She could wear hats? It was winter, maybe it would be fine to just never take her hat off indoors. And then summer would come and… she’d figure something out. Hats to keep the sun out your eyes were a thing. It’d be conspicuous, but…

She gave up when it came to her skin. Distinct blue tint. Getting more and more noticeable each day. There was no covering that, not without making it so fucking obvious there was something to cover up. It wasn’t illegal or anything. They couldn’t arrest her for it. But. Well. She’d wanted it to be her secret to keep for a while longer.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, she kept muttering to herself. Not this much.

***

Three months earlier

The circle was not painted in blood, of course. She didn’t have that kind of money, and bleeding herself seemed unwise. It was red, though, because they sell magically conductive paint in any colour you want, and why not? She also hadn’t painted it on her floor. She wasn’t some kid who just downloaded the ritual off the internet and hadn’t thought it’d be them cleaning it up later. She had this big sheet she could roll up and reuse.

The devil was standing right in the middle of that sheet.

“Human.”

“That I am,” she said. ”Do you have a name you are willing to share?”

“Shrenthrez”.

She had a notebook in her hand. “That’s shay-re-eb…?”

It corrected her spelling, casually. It didn’t seem offended, but she was definitely self-conscious about it. She had a flashcard deck for Infernal, she’d practised for this, but her ear wasn’t accustomed to the sounds. Every devil she’d talked to spoke English, anyway, it was just the names.

“You were looking to deal?”, it said, when she finished writing its name down.

“I am. One sixth of my soul, in exchange for magical potential.”

“How much were you hoping to get?”

“I have an offer for fifty-five units. Are you willing to do better?”

It stood silently for long seconds. Stared at her intently, like it had been pretending not to, before. Examining her soul.

“...I have an offer, on two conditions. The first is a precondition to hearing more.” It waited, and she nodded. “First, I want assurance that you will not discuss the details of my offer, with devil or human.”

“Absolute secrecy, or obfuscation of detail?”

“Obfuscation will do. You may say it was for more than fifty-five and conditions apply. You may say secrecy was involved.”

She thought for a moment. She was not agreeing to much, here, just not to discuss details, but one always carefully considers any agreement, with devils. It might make future negotiation slightly more inconvenient, but…

“Agreed.”

“One hundred and twenty productive units of magical potential. For one sixth of your soul, and an agreement that if you sell any further fraction, you’ll give me the right to hear any other offer you have and a chance to outbid it. You have my name already, you know how to call me back.”

She could not believe the number, at first. She’d been told to expect forty, been pleased when she had an offer of fifty, been amazed when she had managed to get the last devil to offer fifty-five. One hundred and twenty.

“I. um. Fair best efforts clause on that. I’m not giving you a permanent veto on selling my soul if you choose not to show up.”

“Acceptable. Three attempts to summon me, spaced at least a day apart each, before you can consider you’ve given me a fair attempt at hearing your offer and you can move on. I can say I do not intend to waste that option, but I am not swearing to that, of course.”

“Write it down?”

It produced a tablet from somewhere, and started carving into it with a claw. In English, thankfully. The Latin alphabet was not designed for devil writing mechanisms, but the devils seemed to manage. Certainly better than almost any human at learning their language.

She considered it. She pondered the written contract in front of it. She imagined trying to get something better than that, while complying with the precondition.

“Agreed.”

#fiction

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lesbiannancytruther · 2 years

Text

alright im caving and combining my two current obsessions THATS RIGHT its a ronance shadowhunters au

disclaimer cassandra clare is weird as hell i just like her worldbuilding <3

hear me out…. shadowhunter!nancy x warlock!robin… i think it’s real idk….

explanation section for those who haven’t read these books: shadowhunters have angel blood and are sworn to protect humanity from demons. (magical cops) they’re stronger, faster, have more endurance than normal, and can use runes to enhance their capabilities. they look like sick ass tattoos.

downworlders are all other magical beings (other than demons): vampires, werewolves, faeries, and warlocks.

warlocks are the offspring of demons and humans, they can use magic to do a LOT of stuff, they’re immortal (stop aging in their early 20s) and all of them have a sort of demon’s mark.

and since i want this nancy to be half-faerie: faeries are the offspring of demons and angels, they have wild magic and are typically beautiful and mischievous. full-blooded faeries can’t lie. faeries are weak to cold iron. faeries are basically immortal as they hardly age once they reach maturity.

in all cases shadowhunter blood is dominant

imagine: ted wheeler is actually interesting here. on a mission in faerie he gets just a little bit tipsy on faerie drinks (makes u a little crazy) and he ends up sleeping with a faerie😳 and he’s like “damn wild night” and thinks nothing of it until 9 months later BAM there’s a baby on his doorstep and he’s like “oh what the fuck”

i couldnt decide if i wanted this au to be pro karen or anti karen so i decided it’d be a mix of both, with karen at first being appalled at the situation and refusing nancy and slowly learning to love and care for her as she watched her grow. i think karen will always have a level of prejudice against nancy, so nancy has always felt she needs to be perfect to earn her approval and love. (lesbianism allegory mayhaps🤨)

took it upon myself to decide that robin’s father would be the demon, a typical incubus who preyed on her wild and free, unpredictable mother and left her with a kid she had no idea how to deal with. robin’s demon mark is her horns, which resemble massive antlers of either a deer or an elk, but are tiny when she’s little, easy to hide with hats. i think robin’s mother will have the same flaws she does in rebel robin, loving but flighty and weird, being both unconventional and judgmental. she accepts robin for who she is but is always stepping on wires trying to make her feel better.

as they grow they both deal with their own struggles. nancy is an excellent shadowhunter, easily one of the best of her generation, but she’s often shunned for being half-fae and feels the need to prove herself at every turn. she’s a lot more tolerant than most shadowhunters and because of this she’s taken on being an advocate for downworlders in sticky situations, being the head of investigations involving downworlders to make sure no one gets unfairly blamed for things they haven’t done.

im thinking this is where robin and nancy meet, with robin being framed for casting an illegal spell she’d never cast otherwise and nancy working to prove her innocence. at first nancy is wildly annoyed with robin who asks her all sorts of questions about her pointed ears and the shocks of white blonde streaks through her wildly curly brown hair and constantly questions why she’s doing what she’s doing, but she quickly warms up to robin when she realizes how brilliant and genuinely earnest she is, so unafraid to tell the truth and be an advocate, even it it’d bite her in the ass.

robin, despite having an unremarkable demon parent, is actually pretty powerful. she’s a really good ally to have, especially when you’re nancy wheeler and get stabbed a LOT, robin is there to help <3

robin is pretty much enamored with nancy immediately, only set off by the fact that she’s a shadowhunter and tbh fuck shadowhunters they suck so hard so often (here’s where the prissy thing comes in), but nancy is so smart and talented and really good at fighting. she’s reckless, and pretty, and her unnaturally blue eyes hold so much determination and will to survive and to be seen.

tldr they fall in love really hard!! and bc cassandra clare was like “yasss racism allegory” this does not go over well with anyone bc omg a shadowhunter and downworlder… KISSING??? IN LOVE??? taboo and wrong (and they also hate gay people on top of that these guys suck man)

and a lot of shadowhunters take it as a “i knew she was evil!” about nancy but robin helps her realize that shadowhunter approval is actually so dumb and she’s open about it!

lmk if u guys r interested in more! ik it can be kind of hard bc idk what lore i didn’t fill u guys in on so please feel free to ask any questions bc i could talk abt this series for hours

#stranger things #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #ronance #gonna be simple w this one #shadowhunters au #tsc

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girderednerve · 4 months

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did you guys know that work sucks? crazy, right

so i did my first-ever storytime on thursday morning & it was pretty terrible. my performance left several things to be desired but i don't think i was remarkably horrible, i was just kind of stiff & haven't really picked up the trick yet of making little kids pay attention to you. there were >40 people in the storytime room, which is big for our room, & there was a really wide age range (babies in laps -> 7 year olds). most of the parents who came were fine & it was a little disorganized but we did okay. some of the parents were like, really unhelpful, though—totally checked out, texting or chatting while their children were disruptive; one of them did this awkward rude thing during the craft at the end where she started up a conversation with the teen librarian with clear hopes on getting her to do storytime instead? (the teen librarian was helping me & has done storytimes before, so i get why a parent would be like 'can we have the better librarian please,' except this particular parent cornered me for twenty minutes the preceding friday to get my whole life story & so knew for a fact that i am the only youth librarian & also that this was my first storytime before she walked in the door.) this was somewhat disheartening, i will be frank!

the previous youth services team was one children's librarian, one youth assistant, and a teen librarian who was also the assistant director & spent at least half of her time on administrative work. accordingly, youth services looked like four storytimes a week, occasional homeschool art programs, and teen programs which were almost all facilitated by teen volunteers. however, i want to do three storytimes a month (maximum), one loosely structured art program for younger kids, regular elementary/middle programs (graphic novel book club, tabletop RPGs), and bursts of special or more involved programming (e.g., tabletop wind tunnel). the teen librarian wants to offer life skills programs & craft workshops & pull in students at the high school & local community college. our boss keeps asking me about storytime & her about middle school outreach; when asked for specific expectations, organizational priorities, or a vision for our services, we get nothing. we are unhappy.

so i am trying to figure out how i could rework storytime to make myself less miserable, & i think a couple things are going to have to happen. we are going to drop the number of people allowed to register, and require registration. i think storytime being kind of bad (in comparison to what they had before, but probably also in absolute terms) will be helpful, because this program will become less in-demand & so the pressure will drop; there are a lot of libraries that are less than twenty minutes away from us that offer good storytimes, so i don't feel like i am cruelly denying anyone vital early literacy services. i am also going to have to figure out what kind of storytime presenter i am & how much i can get away with doing weird garbage in storytime to amuse myself. (here is an example: i want to do a storytime for workers' memorial day. does that make any sense? no! but we can read 'someone builds the dream' & maybe some version of 'john henry,' decorate hard hats, & dance to "shosholoza.")

if anyone has advice for this situation OR storytime theme suggestions that you think sound fun i would appreciate it but i am mostly just complaining. good luck out there y'all

#irredeemable whining #is it management's fault every time i am unhappy at work? sure! why not.

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finncomet · 1 year

Note

Your hat is stupid.

TRY TO MAKE MY MUSE ANGRY.

☄️ "What the bjork did you just flipping say about me, you little tranch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Banana Guard Academy, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Wizard City, and I have over 300 confirmed moitles.

I am trained in heroic warfare and I’m the top swordfighter in all of Ooo. You are nothing to me but just another dillweed. I will wipe you the donk out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my globbin words.

You think you can get away with saying that snozz to me over the Internet? Think again, ding dong. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of Banana Guards across Ooo and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re blee-blobbin dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can moitle you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands.

Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the Candy Kingdom and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable buns off the face of the continent, you little poo brain. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your glob danged tongue.

But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price,you grob grobbin dumb hole. I will boom boom fury all over you and you will drown in it.

You’re bjorkin dead, kiddo." 🦋

#unleashed the beast #finn post #finn to face #anonymous #ask

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mareastrorum · 6 months

Text

The Fool and the Soldier: Chapter Commentary

Chapter 7: The Serpent & The Crown

On off weeks, I’ll be posting some commentary on the prior week’s chapter. Since this is a longfic, I expect that it will be helpful for keeping track of stuff, plus I might mention something you missed. Of course, this will include spoilers, so continue with that in mind.

These aren’t meant to be comprehensive! There is so much more going on that I’m not saying. Feel free to ask questions too, either in replies or asks. If it’s too spoilery, I’ll let you know. I’ll add them to the body at the bottom as I receive them.

See the directory for other meta posts.

The Serpent & The Crown

Oh man, this chapter title has layers.

Molly revised this card in chapter 3, after reading a short story in the book Caleb gifted to him during their downtime in Zadash. As noted later in this chapter, the point of the story is not to take the first opportunity as soon as it appears because that may cut off further options. (Molly interpreted it as waiting to see what else he could steal from a mark before making a move. Not wrong, per se, but not exactly what the author intended.) Many of the scenes focus on opportunities and delayed gratification. What can they do or have now? What do they hope will come? Are they willing to wait for the mere chance of something better?

Because that was the focus, I ultimately didn’t include scenes for POVs from Beau or Nott. Beau’s arc wasn’t about that issue, and Nott’s only became that later, when she realized that her family wouldn’t care that she was a goblin then again once she was turned back into a halfling. However, all the rest of the Nein at least brush against those questions at this point in their development, so I felt comfortable with those two taking a back seat.

Of course, this is also the first part of Fjord’s arc, where the Nein learn of Uk’otoa (the serpent) and his offer of the power to rule the sea (the crown). Up until this latest live show, Fjord always seemed to be struggling with this idea of who he is and who he should be. That manifested in different ways throughout C2. Currently, we’re looking at Fjord’s relationship with power generally. He knows he wants it, and he’s not self-aware enough to sort out why, so he’s chasing it out of fear of losing an opportunity, something he’s rarely had in life.

Why are we bothering with that in a story about Lucien trying to murder Molly? Hmmmm…

One More Time

I wanted to touch base with Jester because she left Nicodranas without saying goodbye to Marion in canon, and I felt part of that was because she wasn’t sure she could sneak all the way to the Chateau and back without getting caught. I also wanted to explore the fact that Jester did miss home and considered staying (which was stated in the stream).

Jester’s arc isn’t usually the subject of a lot of discourse or commentary because it closely resembles a coming of age arc. She goes off to explore the world, learns what it’s really like, matures, falls in love, etc. She’s a sheltered kid that only saw people through a particular set of lenses, and traveling with the Nein has given her more perspective.

But does Jester want that? The answer is a resounding “yes,” but that moment was handled much later in canon. She originally left home because she was forced to—there really was no choice involved. Nott offering the hat of disguise gave Jester an option that wouldn’t have come up until the pre-peace-negotiations gala a few dozen episodes later. By that point, Jester had a much stronger relationship with each of the Nein and there was no doubt whether she would continue with them.

In the Origins comic, Jester repeatedly wanted to see more people and explore the city, sneaking out and causing trouble. But she brought things back for her mother. Marion wanted a better life for Jester, but her own fears and limitations kept her from providing that, so she urged Jester to go and provided a ton of money to help.

So this scene provides a little insight into all those factors. Jester wants to grow and experience new things, she wants to help the Nein, and she wants to bring a piece of that home with her. It’s no longer about being unable to go home. She can, and she’ll visit, but unlike a lot of the rest of the Nein, she gets to choose what life she leads really early on in the story.

Master Doolan Tversky, the Archmage of Dysology

Oh, this thread is still going. Yep. There’s a lot I won’t explain in this part, but I can at least go into a few things.

There’s very little canon characterization of Doolan. She’s a gnome, she’s very much obsessed with biological research of magical beasts, she’s willing to drop a lot of money on things she wants, and she’s pretty focused.

But Dysology has a few meanings. It’s criticism or the study of bad science. Given how much the Assembly was involved in politics of the Dwendalian Empire (they aren’t just doing personal projects), I tried to come up with a persona that would be into biology, magic, and politics all in one. The result was a scientist who is decidedly amoral and disregards the rules. Not evil, not good—motivated entirely by research and knowledge. Which is exactly the type of person who would be happy to conduct autopsies on a bunch of blood hunters.

Relatedly, that’s why I chose the bull wasp motif for Doolan as well. Omnivorous animals aren’t evil; they eat. That’s how she views herself and her associates. They aren’t doing bad things, they just do what they’re meant to do. There’s a hierarchy, everyone has a purpose, and Doolan just happens to be at the top.

Good people don’t usually end up in leadership positions in totalitarian regimes.

This scene was originally going to be after the next one, but @fruitzbat gave a good suggestion that fitting it between these two scenes flowed better and provided a starker contrast between the Nein and the Assembly.

Gods

This scene rehashed a conversation between Yasha and Caduceus because it covers topics important to both of their arcs. They’re the most similar with respect to their relationships to their gods, neither of which are big talkers. Even though some of the dialogue is taken straight from canon, I added more to flesh out the discussion.

This happens in a few scenes, and it’s all for the same reason: there are elements of canon that really can’t be skipped over if this story is going to have a coherent plot and satisfying character arcs. When I get to those moments, I try to freshen them up in some way to avoid boring the reader, while also avoiding deviation for its own sake.

We needed some circus kids moments, given that Yasha went off as soon as she woke up after the Iron Shepherds. Yasha and Molly had a very playful dynamic, and she was also the only one who he would cave to easily. If not for her, Molly would have tried to blow off Cree or otherwise avoid that conversation in the Evening Nip. Thus, Yasha is uniquely positioned to prod Molly about his dreams without him staunchly denying everything.

I also absolutely had to bring the peacock back. Yeah, they’re only supposed to be capable of flying short distances, but this is an Exandrian peacock and he’d not going to let Nott leave without him.

Colors

I wanted to check in with Caduceus because actually adjusting to the idea of moving forward without a plan or guidance from the Wildmother wasn’t overnight. He settled into it gradually over the course of this plotline. This scene also gave the generic idea of time passing before the Nein met up with Avantika without revisiting combat or other developments that weren’t as pertinent.

However, I also wanted to nudge the AU plot along. Molly was knocked out the entire time the Iron Shepherds and the Nein moved through the Savalirwood and Shadycreek Run; he never saw the distinct color of the woods. So Molly had no reason to know that he was dreaming of a real place, let alone real people or events. At least, he didn’t until Caduceus mentioned that the trees there were purple and gray.

Caduceus probably would have realized that he was upset about that in particular if not for the seasickness—not that he would have explained anything anyway—but now Molly has information to inform him of what he’s seen. He’s totally not panicking, guys. Just queasy.

I also took inspiration from a canon scene of Caduceus zoning out about whether he'd met a ghost he didn't want to punch. This is one of my favorite C2 animatics for it.

Dream: Cold

The opening rhyme is an Irish children’s song that’s fairly well known in the English-speaking world.

In the United States and western Europe, a lot of the modern discourse on poverty focuses on food insecurity and homelessness (specifically, the lack of shelter, not any other facet) and little else. Notably, those were the only topics that TNEOL bothered with, and both were resolved in passing by introducing Auntie Mama, who handled both of those issues so that Lucien Tavelle only had to deal with the trauma around his family and the dangers of taking jobs for the families. As a result, pretty much none of Tavelle’s characterization was tied to racism against tieflings, how he survived in Shadycreek Run, the trauma that arises out of the desperation of poverty, nor the types of relationships he would have had under those circumstances. That’s just not included. Instead, his flaws are treated either as tragic/traumatic traits arising out of experiences with abuse by his family/Azrahari or as personal moral failings.

That’s such a typical tactic for published stories about minorities that grew up in poverty, and I’m absolutely not going to do that.

The dreams have already included examples of crime, fishing, etc. as means of survival, as well as avoiding threats of slavers, gangs, and fey. This dream addresses extreme weather, sickness, and the lack of family or social units (meaning groups of people that work together out of cultural obligation or some connected identity).

Homeless people die in extreme weather unless they can get to secure, prepared shelter, and in a town like Shadycreek Run, such shelter is not going to be common. People who live in violent, gang-run neighborhoods are rarely charitable with their homes because of the risk that the person they help will take advantage, and further, this is not the modern world with a culture of charitable giving or volunteering. Offering shelter to someone is a substantial risk, and that still requires some sort of agreement between those people. There has to be some conversation and trust. Homeless kids are not likely to ask strangers for a place to sleep because—again, in a town run by violent tribes, two of which run with the slave trade—adults that are likely to say yes are also the most suspect. Thus, homeless kids often die in blizzards.

That said, there are some people willing to provide temporary shelter, especially when they see sad kids shivering in the snow. Thus, the blacksmith allows a small group to take refuge from the cold while he’s there and has an eye on them. (In addition, Lucien keeps watch while the rest sleep.) As implied by his statements and scars, the blacksmith was also a former slave and has little interest in tipping anyone off that the kids are there. The temple to the Raven Queen also accepts the kids once they trudge through the snow to get there. Whether they could have sought such help earlier is anyone’s guess, and it’s entirely possible that they would have been turned away if the situation wasn’t desperate enough yet. On top of that, while cold doesn’t cause illness, enduring extreme cold compromises the immune system and kids get sick. A few that didn’t die to hypothermia still died to illness.

In addition, there’s the issue that the allegiances of the street kids are fickle. Younger, weaker kids don’t have much choice in who they stick with, and older, experienced kids eventually find opportunities to pursue. Thus, the goliath offers to take her two favorites with her to a gang, leaving the little ones and “the problems” behind. Smaller, disorganized groups without strong hierarchies don’t often last, especially when faced with challenges like blizzards.

Life is hard for kids on the streets. There’s kind people that mean well, and most of the time, they aren’t willing or in the position to offer long-term solutions. Unfortunately, when someone grows up with a vivid, consistent experience of scarcity, apathy, and danger, the nice lessons they hear from well-meaning, kind people tend to get warped. Thus, the blacksmith makes a curved sword rather a straight blade or some other tool, and his lesson isn’t about how to help or to seek help, but to endure. He has scars of his own, and he knows that other people cannot be relied upon. Allowing the kids to take up space and providing some advice is the most he’s willing to give.

I’m not writing a story to make privileged people feel like the desperation of the poor isn’t their fault or their problem. Society is to blame for poverty, and every single person has a part in that. There were things that bystanders could have done to save more kids, and they didn’t do it. It’s risky, yeah, and in the end, most people who have something to lose don’t want to take risks to help people they look down upon.

So they don’t.

Memories

Now the story can finally get into the Tombtakers’ interactions with Lucien in detail. We also see what Lucien can do while he’s in someone’s head. Oh boy!

I came up with Jurrell’s game quite a while before this scene as a way of providing retrospection and exposition in the Tombtaker scenes. That provides the reader with some insight into the other Tombtakers’ pasts and how they get along with Lucien. So now there’s multiple options for scenes to show that off. We’ll see a lot more of their backstory over time.

Lucien is a French name IRL, but there is no France or French language in Exandria. However, the French accent tends to be common along the Menagerie Coast. Going off that, I decided I’d interpret that as the Ki’nau language (Naush) and accent since it had not really been tied to a specific place in canon. Then I tried to brainstorm why Lucien would have that name if he grew up in Shadycreek Run. While researching Irish folklore, one of the figures that stood out was Lugh (modern “Lú”). Depending on the cycle (Irish folklore is divided into cycles with repeating/related myths), he was a trickster god, a god of light, a master craftsman, and a jack of all trades. Putting that all together with the earlier decision I’d made that he learned from Seanchaidhe, I came up with this backstory for how Lucien got his name.

When Matt introduced the Tombtakers as a group, Lucien was the only one that didn’t have a last name. In a campaign that was rife with chosen names, I felt that was an intentional choice to suit the character. Thus, my version doesn’t care what his name was. He doesn’t have a family, so as far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t have a family name. Whether he ever had a prior name is anyone’s guess at this point.

Lucien isn’t kind. He’s playful, curious, and willing to go along with things he doesn’t necessarily enjoy—but he also retaliates. So he doesn’t hold back when he has the chance to question Tyffial about something delicate. As for his intentions, that’s for the future.

Without the eyes, Otis doesn’t have darkvision, and I thought it’d be funny to include a watch where they absolutely don’t see trouble coming. It was convenient for a transition in this scene.

Lastly, @grayintogreen correctly commented that these were the “Syphilis Bandits” that the Mighty Nein repeatedly encountered in the Marrow Valley. They lived though!

Avantika

This was a scene that I felt I could not skip, but it was also so boring to include. Eventually, I finally tried drafting it from Avantika’s POV, and it felt so much better than any of the other versions I did. Doing her perspective also gave a decent amount of exposition so that skipping the early conversations with her wasn’t as big of a problem. It turned out to be very efficient for moving the plot along while keeping things interesting, even if there isn’t a lot of extra meat to the scene.

Eyes

Matt had so many eye motifs in the campaign, and I know Fjord and Nott would have been suspicious of Molly every time they came up. It’s such a fun thing to poke at.

Jester breaking the pencils was based on Laura actually breaking a pencil in the stream and joking that Jester had done it. I added it into the scene so that it happened throughout the conversation.

We also get a callback to the fairy tale the card/chapter title was based on. I like nesting stories within stories, so we’re going to see more of this.

Trostenwald

This scene mostly speaks for itself. More insight into Lucien’s abilities, as well as how conscious hosts are while he’s taken over. And some rather disturbing plans for Gustav...

Opportunity

Now that we got past the boring setup, time for Fjord’s perspective! Fjord has terrible insight, and he heavily relied on the others’ opinions to try to sort out what to do.

The story Molly mentions is another one of the three Stories About Snakes by the Brothers Grimm. However, he’s trying to be subtle with Fjord, who’s pretty dense. Their dynamic was so fun.

I also wanted to address that Fjord was definitely interested in Avantika. He was ambivalent about a lot of stuff during this first part of his arc, and it was a later decision in canon to try to sabotage her. I wonder if that will be different now…

Urukayxl

And, of course, a final check in with Molly. I figured he’d help with the snake makeup, but the advantage didn’t roll much better.

However, Jamedi is undead, and Molly is spooked around undead after what happened with Lucien. He’s not going to hesitate to pick a fight, but with Jamedi hiding out and bigger threats, he can’t spend the time to do anything about it. I also wanted to make clear that even though Molly was an anxious character, he channeled that into action. His panic attacks weren’t obvious outwardly, and they usually came after there was nothing left to fight. I took that to mean that he was capable of keeping himself together as long as there was something he could do.

It’s also very specific things that made him panic. He did in Alfield when he triggered the Rite of the Dawn, and then again in the Evening Nip when Cree called him Lucien—it’s when he’s faced with Lucien’s past, which he doesn’t understand and doesn’t want to understand. Danger from combat and social situations generally don’t phase him. However, now he associates undead with Lucien, as well as the dreams (thanks to his conversation with Caduceus). He’s not going to be able to hide it from the Nein forever.

The combat wasn’t important and moved quickly in canon, so I breezed through it too. There’s only a few small changes. First, Caleb didn’t have Invisibility at this point because he’d used the scroll against Lorenzo, but in this story, he saved it and inscribed it into his book in Zadash. Second, Molly looted a necklace that wasn’t from the show. Third, it was Fjord who teleported up with Misty Step to shove the yuan-ti guard, so I had to switch that to Molly. The first two are going to have further ramifications down the road.

#TF&TS #TF&TS meta #chapter commentary

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mayrarcjas · 7 months

Text

mayra confesses to renee her involvement with the hole - taking the blame off of isaac. renee gives mayra a task.

mayra.

-mayra approached the clinic, her heart rate thumping loudly in her ears. everyone else in the council knew about her involvement with the hole, the last to know was inside the building in front of her. a conversation she knew wouldn't go well but had to be done. entering, mayra knocked on the opened door to grab renee's attention.- Hey, are you busy?

Renee Brandon

-Renee has her head cradled in her hand as she stares down at the inventory log for the clinic. She's tired, stressed and conflicted but she'll press on. She hears the knock and turns, spotting Mayra- I'm always busy, but I can stop what I'm doing. You okay M?

mayra.

-she hesitates- Are you sure? I can come back another time— -mayra stops herself, knowing the conversation needed to be had with no more time wasted- Actually, no. We need to talk. And it's not going to be a great conversation, and it might be one sided but it's only fair you know that Isaac wasn't the one who didn't say anything about the hole, nor should he take responsibility for it. It was me. I mean, I didn't make it but I found it and I've been using it to come in and out. -mayra finally quieted, bracing herself for the tongue-lashing she was going to get-

Renee Brandon

-Renee hadn't expected the word vomit to come out of Mayra so suddenly and she turns as she spews what she came to tell her. For a moment Renee freezes and it takes her a minute to process.- You...you found a hole in the wall.....and were just using it like your own private backdoor?

mayra.

-mayra put her hands behind her back, using her thumbnail to stab into her skin.- Yeah, I guess. Technically you can say that. -nothing mayra could say would make things better, nor did it give a good enough excuse as to why she said nothing about the hole so she didn't get too deep into what she was using it for-

Renee Brandon

-Renee is perplexed. Ike had lied to her. Of course he had lied to her. Why should she expect anything else at this point?- Do you have any idea the risk that hole posed to our town? To everyone who lives here?

mayra.

I know now. -mayra nodded- Ike already let me have it and, I know you have no reason to trust me now, but try to trust me when I say, I am so fucking sorry. I'll never be able to make up for it, but I've been trying to do everything I can to make it up to everyone by doing anything I can for the town. And I'll continue to.

Renee Brandon

-Renee sighs heavily as she leans back in her chair. God damn, just when she thought things had gotten a little less complicated.- Why are you just telling me about this and not the whole council?

mayra.

You're the only one who doesn't know. -mayra answered truthfully- Plus, Zack found out. I'm guessing it was Cole who said something. And he's holding it over Isaac's head like blackmail. Beat the shit out of him. I can't make sense of that, but I don't want anyone else getting hurt because the truth wasn't told.

Renee Brandon

-of course she was the only one who didn't know. Why would anyone tell her? She didn't know if Mayra could see it but the fact that it seemed like no one thought to tell her hurt.- A lot worse could have happened than someone getting beat up....-at this point there was no reason for her to give her the riot act. It seemed like she was already too late to that party.- I take it Isaac is okay?

mayra

.-mayra shrugged- With that huge gash on his head and Zack beating the shit outta him, who knows. I want to say yes but I can't say with one hundred percent certainty.

Renee Brandon

-there's a guilty pain that runs through her as Mayra mentions the gash on his head.- Is he letting it breathe? The wound on his head.

mayra.

He is now, after I scolded him for having a hat on it. -mayra shook her head, slightly amused at renee's question- He'll probably find another way to cover it. Mentioned something about reading to the kids and not wanting them to see it.

Renee Brandon

He is, huh? I'd almost want to sit in and watch that. -She wouldn't but it didn't mean she didn't want to see this for her own eyes- well, if he does keep wearing something... -she opens a drawer and pulls out an ointment tube - this will keep the skin from getting irritated. Just....tell him Val gave it to you.

mayra.

-she reached for the cream, brow pinched.- Why Val and not you?

Renee Brandon

Him and I aren't on good terms right now. -although what else was new?-

Mayra.-mayra nodded, understanding- Gotcha. It'll pass. Him and I weren't on the best of terms just recently but I think it's turned around.

Renee Brandon

-somehow she doubted that was the case- I guess we'll see huh? She closes the cabinet and regards Mayra for a moment- While you're here, I got a question for you.

mayra.

-she nodded again- Shoot.

Renee Brandon

And this stays between us, okay?..... Do you have any herbal tricks to help with asthma?

mayra.

-she pinches her finger together, sliding them across her lips- I think I remember one or two of them, why? Who’s it for?

Renee Brandon

-She's reluctant to say but after chewing on her lower lip for a second she finally responds - Henry

mayra.

Oh, buddy. -mayra puts a hand on her chest at the confession- I’ll get to the library when I leave here. Theres a few books I can check with and also rattle my brain on what my relatives did for it. Secret’s safe with me.

Renee Brandon

-Renee smiles a little sadly as she nods- I'd appreciate that. I got some inhalers for him but I'm trying to use them only when it gets too bad so we don't worry about running out. I appreciate keeping it between us.

mayra.

Of course, anything to make up for my selfishness. -mayra offers a small smile- On that note, I'm going to run to the library and corral Lucien to help me find that book. When I have something, I'll find you.

Renee Brandon

-Renee nods at her in a silent thanks and affirmation as she watched Mayra leave. Once Mayra is gone she leans back in her chair and runs her hands down her face-

@reneebrxndxn

#mayra ;; discord #discord threads ;; renee

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