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briarcrawford · 1 year

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Little Details For Writers To Make Winters Seem More Real ❄

In the past I did the post “Writing Realistic Winter Scenes,” but it did not quite cover everything, so I thought I would add some more tips! I hope they help for making your stories more realistic.

Stomping Feet.

Only rude people don’t stomp snow off their boots before coming inside. Where I live, you will often also see people giving their boots a good stomp before entering a store.

Once inside a home, take off your boots and (if they have one) put it on a boot tray to stop puddling. If you are entering a store, many locations have rugs by the door. Once inside, wipe your feet a few times.

Holding a drink with both hands and no metal mugs/plates.

Tim Horton drinks are called “Canadian hand warmers” for a reason, so you will often see people waiting for a bus or city train with a drink in both their hands.

As for the metal mugs and plates, I learned my lesson for this one very quickly. When I was an Air Cadet (teens) we would go on weekend survival trips, and most the kids idolized military kits. So, many kids(myself included) would purchase military mess kits. Now, I am not saying they are not handy; plates, bowls, and even a tiny frying pan, all fold up together neatly and flat in your bag, so what is not to love?

Well, when you are camping in places below -25c, and you take off your glove for a moment, you may find your skin sticking to the metal of your plate(thanks to the cold, and steam from your meal). Now, this might seem funny, but if you are not careful, you could actually remove skin.

So, metal is great for cooking and great for the summer, but I suggest being careful if you plan on using them to eat with in the winter.

Bringing Your Animals In

In medieval times, farm animals were often brought into the house. Some houses kept them on the bottom floor while living on the top floor, others not so much. This is to keep the animals from freezing to death, but also to add some extra warmth in the house.

It was not just in the past, either. My past co-worker grew up on a goat farm, and said if it was too cold out, they would bring the baby goats in to run wild in the basement. She remembers it fondly, but it must have been incredibly chaotic for her parents haha.

New Water Source:

Creeks, lakes, and wells will likely freeze over, but luckily you may have another option: snow! Just look for a clean patch, scoop it up, and heat it. It is not a perfect system (during my wilderness survival training days, there were times of picking pine needles out of the water) but it was better than wasting energy to go cut into the ice every several times a day(the holes will re-freeze over).

If it is cold without snow, cutting the ice is exactly what you’ll have to do.

Tree Wells:

Evergreens — like pine trees — are built to shed snow off their triangle-shaped form, so often have little pockets around the trunk with less or no snow. This might not sound like a problem, but occasionally people on skis and other equipment die in them. People are on the move, fall headfirst into them, and their skis are pinned above in the snow out of reach.

Alternatively, these wells can be an emergency shelter from a storm or hunting hiding spot. Do note that you (for the obvious reason of wood everywhere) can not light a fire in these shelters.

Easy Tracking:

It’s not easy to hide prints in the winter, and they are more obvious. This could be good if your character is tracking something, but bad if they are trying to get away.

Some shows have the characters sweeping the ground behind them, but if the snow is over a foot deep, that wont really work.

Realistic Ice:

If you are on a lake, do not expect it to be quiet. It is always flexing and cracking, and sometimes this sounds like a pop, and other times it can sound like the lake is singing.

Ice can also look different. Some (like Abraham Lake in Alberta) is known for it’s frozen bubbles, while others flex so much while freezing that the ice breaches the surface into what look like frozen waves.

While we are on the topic of ice, crampons/ice cleats. Crampons are spikes that attach to your boots, and people here use smaller ones just for walking the dogs. They bite into the ice, making you less likely to slip. They are not a new invention, either. They have found archeological evidence of them that are thousands of years old in different places around the world.

Sounds:

If it is very cold out, sounds are louder. This is one part because there are no leaves on the trees, but also because noise travels through cold air easier. Both these are why any sound (such as the crunching of snow) can seem so loud in the winter.

Alternatively, the snow can muffle sounds (it is an insulator) but only to a certain temperature. This insulation can make the world around you seem almost unnaturally quiet as it muffles any surrounding sounds.

So basically, mildly cold with snow means muffled sounds, while very cold means traveling sounds.

Multiple Socks:

If you are hiking in the winter, it is recommended that you carry at least three pairs of socks to change into at some time. The reason? Your feet will still sweat even if it’s cold, and that sweat can freeze. As a general rule, if your feet start getting cold, consider changing socks.

Boots Near The Fire:

In movies, characters always put their hands near the fire, and that does happen. It is not just the hands, though. People often sit with their boots near the fire and they may start to steam as the ice and snow melt.

This can be so tempting, that there is normally that one person in the group who accidentally melts the rubber of a boot by putting it too close to the fire, or by resting their boot on the metal rings that some campsites have. While we were sleeping in lean-to’s, one kid even scooted too close to his fire in his sleep, and woke to his whole boot melting. It melted so bad, his boot had to be duct-taped together or else they would send him home.

Since people in the past would not have rubber/plastic on their boots, they would react differently to the fires, but you can bet people in the past did the same.

Pack Sled:

If the snow is deep, you may see people (especially skiers and snowshoers) with a sled that has their pack in it. This is to help take some of the weight off you, which stops you from sinking as far in the snow.

Little Modern Details:

Shoveling the Walks

It’s a silly detail, I know, but it is never in books or movies. Here, you have to shovel your walks by law, but there are two other reasons as well. You need to keep the snow from piling up over your boots, and also to keep your vehicle from getting stuck. For this, people either own a shovel or a snow-blower, then put salt or gravel over the icy spots.

Our homes here are built with a roof overhang to keep snow and such from piling at the door, but homes that are not so lucky (such as places that don’t normally get snow) or homes that face towards the wind, might end up being snowed in if they don’t keep up with shoveling.

Prep your vehicle.

In movies and books in cold places with a storm, the hero jumps into the car and rushes away. In real life, they wouldn’t be able to see out the windows. The real process: Start your vehicle about 10min before leaving. While you wait for it to warm, brush off the snow and scrape ice from the windows.

If your character is in that much of a rush, they can put the window down (if it is not frozen) and stick their head out the window while they drive(100% not recommended lol. You can’t even use a seatbelt if you do this).

Fighting for the Register:

If you are a kid and you come in with wet boots, the fight for the spot over the heat register is on! Those with the lucky spot will have far drier and warm boots or mittens for next use.

Dead Batteries:

If it is really cold out and you have something like a phone with you, you had better keep it in your inside pocket(most winter jackets have them) closest to your body. If not, even a full battery can completely die out in record time. Batteries simply are not made to handle extreme cold. They sometimes turn on again if you warm them up, but other times you will have to plug them in and charge them.

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soracities · 11 months

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Your account is absolutely wonderful.. I am assuming that it takes a lot of time and dedication to absorb so much art... I find myself drifting away, always exhausted from my job... So I guess my question is what do you do for work and how do you stay inspired?

most of my time is spent child-minding and while that has left me with very little time to read and watch the things i want--and can be quite exhausting in and of itself--i think there is a little trade-off in that children keep you attentive to the world around you in a way you would not otherwise be, if only because you have to be that attentive to answer all their countless questions. so in a sense there is some inspiration i glean from that.

otherwise, i think this blog sometimes does give off the impression that i'm more well-read than i actually am; in reality, i dance on the surface of a lot of artworks but am passionate about maybe a tiny handful of works, and maybe, like, two painters. i have a "to watch" list that far exceeds my lifespan given that i actually watch, maybe, 3 movies a year. i have finished one (short) book since 2023 started and it took me six months to read that. the books that i've managed to read over the years, i've read chiefly in bursts and almost always in time periods where i was lucky enough in that i didn't have much to occupy me; even then, i'm aware i didn't read as much as i could have done with the time i had, but i'm also the kind of person who cannot devour book after book endlessly, either--i have a very clear saturation point, after which i need to do something different.

i think this blog, more than anything else, is a kind of repository of all the little fragments of thoughts or books or the world that interest and catch me and that i want to keep, but what i actually spend time with and dive into makes up an absolutely miniscule fraction of that. there have been long months (and years) where i did not have it in me to maintain any kind of sustained attention to reading or poetry, but i think the ability to do so is a huge, often unacknowledged, priviliege that requires not just time and economic security, but also mental clarity. i'm saying this to stress that what you feel, especially with whatever demands your job makes on you, is entirely normal and not anything to be ashamed of: the toll bills take, that laundry takes, that cooking and cleaning and countless other errands take are not to be underestimated when you go into them already sapped of most of your reserves in the first place.

it's something i've felt quite often (and still do); carving out the time to read as much or as often as i would like to does require dedication which i do not always have the energy for. but i think for me, to answer your question regarding inspiration, especially during the times when i'm not reading anything, inspiration is in paying as much attention as i can to the world around me, no matter how tiny the details are. there's a quote by william stafford where he talks about the ability to have "one vivid morning" and then "chain myself to it for fifty years". i don't have any set "philosophy" on life, but that is one thing i have always lived by: i still remember a single razor of light i saw on the railway tracks one morning a year ago which caught me by surprise, or the time on the bus when the setting sun filled the top deck and i knew then by the colour of it that summer was coming, or when i got up close to a patch of damp moss to see all its tiny little hairs more clearly, or one afternoon five years or so ago when i bought some loose pears from a corner shop and they were the sweetest, most-melt-in-the-mouth-juiciest pears i'd ever had....i can obsess over the light through a window over and over and over again no matter how often i see it. my mother put some lilies in a vase in the living room a few weeks ago and the entire time i was enraptured with how the scent hit me everytime i'd come into that room. even after more than a week they still enraptured me; each time was like i discovered them all over again and that brightened my mood so immeasurably.

for me inspiration is chiefly about recognizing the things that bring me joy and then holding them as closely as i can. there's a game i've started playing if i'm on a long bus trip where i take the number of a random bus stop i pass and if it's lower than 2020 i google what events happened in that year and pick the one that interests me most: if i'm going to be on my phone anyway, i will be on it in a way that aligns with what i already enjoy (FACTS!) and won't drain me (social media). when i don't have the energy to finish or even pick up a book, i'm subscribed to sites like Aeon, Ordinary Plots, Diaries of Note, or grieftolight on instagram (shoutout to forever beloved @firstfullmoon doing the lord's work with that account, truly), or podcasts i like, which allow me to read or experience little bits and pieces here and there without the pressure or anxiety-inducing commitment. if there is a poem i love i try to spend as much time with it as i can, which often just takes the form of me writing it down (by hand, usually-- that part is important) into a ledger of poems i keep which i can return to whenever i want, underlining my favourite parts or just rereading what spoke to me (i also love going to exhibits or museums (which, luckily, are mostly free where i live) or taking note of all the random bits of street art i see)

a year or so ago i also started, and this has changed my life, to copy down some of my favourite quotes i've reblogged onto little cue cards and stick them on the wall by my bed. some are poems, some are bits of novels or scraps of philosophy, some are motivational tidbits, but all of them are things i want to be reminded of. it helps me remember the lines i most want to keep and also grounds me in an odd way, but more than that, it just makes me happy. if i'm doom-scrolling, or having a rough evening, i can turn to that wall and read the things that mean most to me.

i don't know if any of this helps, and i'm conscious of not putting these out there as a cure-all because i'm very aware of how quickly, and how easily, this society and its set-up can drain you. i am, though, a staunch proponent of approaching art (any kind) and your engagement with it from a place and a pace that is true to you, before anything else, and that includes taking into account your own circumstances and what would bring you the most enjoyment within the means you have available to you: sometimes that's a 20 minute radio interview about blackholes, sometimes it's counting how many birds you pass as you walk through the park, sometimes it's 150 page novella it takes you half a year to finish. whatever it may look like, center your own pleasure first. i hope this can give you something, anon ♡

#also cannot understate the impact of the people in my life #the LUMINOUS brains of my friends and the people i love give me an education on the world no university can compete with #ask #anonymous #notes from elsewhere

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writersdare · 8 months

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Ghost of You | Calum Hood

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader (she/her)

Summary: It had been four months of silence between Calum and Y/N. Could she finally move on?

Warning: angst

Word Count: 1 496

Requested: yes

Author’s Note: I had two files for this work, and one of it had a name "experimental". I chose that variant in the end, so I really-really hope you'll like it. It's very new for me, the storytelling might be quite unusual at first. Remember that feedback helps me a lot to improve the skills, and it motivates to write more ♡

It was stuffy in a room, as air conditioner stopped working. Y/N had spent much more time trying to fall asleep than actually sleeping; when the clock on a blank white wall showed five-thirty in the morning, the girl realised there was no way she was going to try to fall asleep again.

Opened windows didn’t exactly help to ventilate the flat, however, she saw some thin tree brunches swinging to the left and right, probably, begging angry clouds to finally release the rain.

Afterwards it usually smelled fresh, felt almost like a sudden beginning of a new life chapter, and Y/N, some other day, would love to simply wrap up in a blanket and listen to the sound of heavy drops hitting the glass. That exact day, though, the girl needed to leave home in the early afternoon for a job interview she didn’t even want to have, and Y/N hoped to get there at least dry.

It had been four months of silence between her and a person she loved so much, yet, the heaviness in the heart remained the same. Y/N wondered what it was exactly about, and how she supposed to forget the guy, when everything kept reminding of Him. Every little detail in the apartment would echo with a memory of them that did not exist any longer. A stupid ukulele He left in the corner of the living room, behind a beige pot with a plant they bought together. Everything was as if staring at her, making fun of her. Y/N was, probably, going crazy. It had been four months, and she wondered if her insanity could get any worse. The girl missed Him, their night calls. She missed that naive feeling of being in love. She missed the feeling of being full, as the girl started to feel empty again.

Y/N knew that she needed to do something about it, to stop thinking about the past and finally move on. Probably, change something in her life, too. Like changing a job to the one she didn’t want either.

Apparently, the universe didn’t want her to get that job, too, and since the sleepy morning Y/N only kept realising that the day was not going to be easy. A burnt tongue, when she was drinking coffee – the colour of His eyes, just like she burnt her heart when allowed herself to fall in love with Him. When He made her feel like it was a safe thing to do. Silly…

A broken cup, the one He used to leave cigarette ashes in, it would get under her skin so much. Y/N tried to fix it, just like their relationship four months ago, but some things had to remain broken. A missed bus, even though she was running after it under the noisy rain, and all in vain. She needed to slow down. She desperately needed it.

Y/N took a seat on a wet bench next to the bus stop and sobbed, feeling like time has as if stopped. Or maybe it was her heart, she couldn’t recognise the beat of, once He wasn’t a part of her life any longer. Her social anxiety opened the arms for a dark and tight hug in the most inconvenient moment, and Y/N simply froze, feeling that sudden fear, covering her from top to bottom.

“I’m sorry… Are you alright?”

A voice, calm and soft, called for her, and Y/N turned the head to the side to see a familiar face. The rain stopped, and it wasn’t gloomy anymore. A guy with rounded face, dark-chocolate eyes, plump lips and short hair was looking at her attentively. He was wearing light pants and a baggy shirt; despite the recent rain, it was still hot outside. The cheeks were slightly red, and she wished to leave a small kiss on His skin.

“Yeah,” Y/N mumbled a classic reply, but didn’t expect it to come out so quietly and dramatically. The guy even chuckled, probably, thinking that she was a bad liar.

“I know it’s maybe not my business, but I just don’t think ‘it’s alright’ if you can’t hold your tears and crying next to a bus stop. And it’s also raining,” He looked up at the sky. “Quite depressing.”

“Then why did you ask if I was alright at first place?” Y/N snapped and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Just don’t look at me if it’s so depressing," she glanced at the sky, and all she could see were pearl fluffy clouds.

“I thought it’d be weird if I’d ask ‘are you not alright?’,” He noticed and smiled at Y/N shortly. “Hey, whatever it is… It’s all temporary.”

The girl closed the eyes and gave herself a moment, before whispering quietly,

"No, it’s not."

She opened the eyes just to see Him dissolving in the air.

"Please, don’t go," Y/N could only beg, yet, the imagination let her down once again, and she couldn’t hold on to that memory anymore.

Their first meeting was not romantic, however, it was special. Calum was the only one of the passers-by who approached the girl, seeing she was having something close to a panic attack. He wasn’t there any longer, but even in her head the guy took a seat next to her to comfort. She fell in love with his moles on the right cheek first. He was holding her hand in His, asking to breathe slowly, and all Y/N could see at that time was His eyes, maybe little too kind for the world.

Too bad their fairytale was over, and there was no happy ending. Y/N needed to stop living with Him in her head, but Calum still was her safe place. Even if good memories brought the pain as a companion every time she thought of Him.

It wasn’t sunny in the head any longer, Y/N realised it was still raining like crazy. The girl was late for the job interview, but the were no regrets. In fact, she wasn’t sure what was feeling at first place, as when He left, He took all her feelings with Him.

Y/N lazily stood up from the bench, and legs slowly carried her to a coffee shop nearby, where Calum bought her latte that day. She was crying so much, even an almond syrup couldn’t help to make the drink less salty. Maybe it was even quite embarrassing, yet He made her feel safe.

"You know… Maybe it was all a lie. Maybe I just imagined Him," Y/N whispered quietly, making a sip from the cardboard cup and staring at the lacquered table. "Just like I am imagining you now…"

He was sitting next to her, having the same as she was. His free hand was placed on hers, when Calum sighed heavily and shook the head.

"Did you love him that much?" the guy asked, the voice was soft and simply pleasant to her ears.

"Yes," Y/N’s whisper left her lips almost right away. The girl had no powers left to correct Calum and say that she still loved Him, no matter how painful it was.

"Did he love you?" He asked, squeezing her fingers with his.

"Sometimes," the girl whispered back, remembering their sleepless nights and arguments, and small trips to nowhere, and tears, and laughter, and screams.

It was exhausting. Their relationship was exhausting, He said once. She thought it was alright. She thought she was fine, navigating in a fog of Calum’s constant mood swings and small irritations here and there. Y/N thought she could save them, she was ready to sacrifice her life for that relationship, but in the end all what she needed was to take care of herself.

"I have to let you go," she mumbled, still squeezing the guy’s hand in hers. "I really need to," Y/N tried to memorize the touch of His hand. The softens of his skin on hers.

"Stay for a little longer?" He asked the same thing she blurted out four months ago, standing in an empty hall next to Calum and looking at him with red, fully of tears, eyes.

"I’m sorry, I have to," she whispered his reply and broke the touch of their hands.

The rain was beating against the windows deafeningly. Her coffee was cold and suddenly too sweet to her taste. She was resting palms on the table, and it was quiet in the head. Finally no thoughts were bothering her mind. It was still dark and scary in times, yet, she could see the light somewhere in the end of her path. Or was it a beginning?

She made her last sip and stood up, rushing to leave the coffee shop. Maybe in another life they could meet again. But for now… she needed to finish that chapter and finally start a new one.

taglist: @dgrangaa, @gracieboogirl, @yukichan67, @valentinehrts

– pics and gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner, the gif found here @hellosanshine –

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Masterlist | Taglist

#calum hood #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagine #5sos #5sos angst #calum hood imagine #5sos x reader #5sos fic #Calum Hood angst #Calum Hood x reader #Calum Hood x y/n #Calum 5 seconds of summer #Calum 5sos #Calum 5sauce #writersdare #writersdare Calum 5sos

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geeks-universe · 1 year

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Kiss of Death pt. 5

Anthony Bridgerton x Assassin!Reader

Society has certain expectations of you. If only they knew of your nighttime activities…

“Good morning, Viscount,” you greeted warmly from behind a large plate of food.

The night before you’d snuck away to meet Graham, letting him give you a quick once over to make sure there were no lasting injuries. All things considered, you felt pretty good. You’d managed to get a decent amount of sleep, and now the only thing keeping you from tackling the day was the overwhelming hunger battling your stomach.

“Princess,” he answered, evenly- cautiously.

His eyes were scanning your body, and it only took you a second to realize why. He was searching for visible evidence of some forbidden escapade he had no doubt conjured.

Your absence had been noted, you knew, but you had informed Daphne you were just retiring early. Anthony hadn’t believed it.

You cleared your throat, turning your attention to the woman on your left who had just sat down a plate of warm pastries.

“Sorry for my abrupt departure last night,” you explained, your voice soft. “Liana escorted me back to your home.”

Liana, the maid in question, froze momentarily.

Her dark eyes assessed the scene, and you desperately hoped she’d connect the pieces. Liana was a highly trained assassin who had spent a lifetime learning how to read body language, the same way you had.

She was nearing her mid-twenties, and already had an impressive list of feats she’d accomplished in the Order. The Bridgertons didn’t know that, though. She played the role of your companion, a maid that had been with your family since she was a child. Technically, it wasn’t a lie outside of what her true occupation was.

But, your father was adamant she accompany you, and considering you had no maids of your own, the role was the most natural choice. Not that Liana was particularly happy about it.

“Too much dancing, I’m afraid,” Liana nodded sympathetically, and if you didn’t know her as well as you did, you might’ve actually believed her.

The dry look on your face did nothing to sell the story, but Anthony was satisfied with the answer, relieved you hadn’t left with another man.

“Did you enjoy any of the suitors?” Daphne asked politely, but the nearly imperceptible upturn of her lips spoke of something you didn’t quite understand.

“They were…” You couldn’t fight back the grimace. “Nice.”

Daphne laughed in return.

“In time I’m sure you’ll find the perfect match, as my Daphne has,” Violet said sweetly, and then began trying to extract details of how her relationship with the Duke was progressing.

You couldn’t help but gaze in wonder at the young woman as she practically glowed talking about the Duke. You hadn’t met Simon yet, hadn’t really had the chance, but the way she spoke of him made you appreciate him a little more. Daphne was absolutely besotted by him, and it caused a twinge of longing in your heart.

Like the Bridgertons, you were raised in a house filled with love. Granted, your parents were both assassins, as well as royalty, but the love they had for each other- and, by extension, you- was real. For a brief moment, you wondered what it might feel like to be in love with someone, to trust them with the whole of who you were, to feel safe. You wanted to shed the armor you wore around your heart, if only for a minute, to remember what it felt like.

Then, you could see your mother’s eyes as the light faded from them. You could feel your father’s agony as he held onto you, screaming at the world that had left you without a mother, the same pain burning your heart in the confines of your chest.

The deep scar just above your bellybutton flared to life, and you felt the wonder turn to ash in your mouth.

You couldn’t let yourself go through it all again.

You couldn’t love.

“I shall meet you at the park for the promenade at noon, I’m afraid I have business until then.”

You didn’t miss the confusion that flashed in Liana’s expression.

You did not, in fact, have business.

Graham had very explicitly banned you from your duties for the next week. As much as you wanted to argue, you knew better. Him and Liana were the only ones that knew you were there against your father’s wishes. He truly did think you’d gone to search for a husband.

If he’d known the truth he never would’ve let you step foot in London.

So you played the part for your father as well. Your steps were a bit heavier than normal as you walked away from the Bridgerton family, feeling the presence of Liana close behind.

“(Y/N),” she hissed against the sudden burst of wind as you opened the door.

London was as bustling as usual, and for once, you found yourself among them, rather than watching from the rooftops like some kind of hidden savior.

We work in the dark to serve the light, indeed.

“No work,” you assured her, letting yourself get lost in the crowd.

Liana, however, stayed closed by your side. She kept her gaze on you, and, when you passed a hidden alley tucked in the dark corner of a considerably quiet street, she pulled you to the side.

“What is it?”

She had been your closest confidant since you were a kid. Despite her being a number of years older than you, you’d always been the best of friends. When you were young, you trained together every single day, learning the art of your craft side by side. Now, most days you didn’t get the opportunity.

“Memories,” you offered, pushing back against the panic that quickened your heart.

You forced yourself to focus on the ground, a steady reminder that you were here, no matter how much your mind tried to drag you to the past.

“Your mother-“

Her voice was so cautious, like it’d caused her pain to utter the two words. It had, you were sure. Your mother had been a parent to her as well, and the pain of her loss cut deep.

“Don’t.” You breathed, your vision swirling as you felt the familiar darkness crawl up your spine. “Please.”

Liana released a sigh, then pressed her fingers beneath your chin. She searched your gaze, reading your expression. You didn’t know what she was looking for, nor what she would find, but after a moment she seemed satisfied with her assessment.

“Don’t let them break you.”

She was gone in a few swift movements, propelling herself onto the shoddy roof of the rundown building. Just because you were sidelined didn’t mean she was, and you knew you couldn’t be bitter over it when your entire operation depended on all of you.

So you took a brief moment to steady your breathing, deciding maybe you could embrace the role you’d play for the next week. Being an assassin had always come first, and royalty second. It’d been that way since you were just a kid, learning to defend yourself with dull blades.

Your parents hadn’t meant to let you train at a young age, even planned on delaying telling you about their extracurricular activities, but after your father had been gravely injured and had stumbled into you, they’d explained it all.

Truthfully, you were too young at the time to understand what it all meant, and, perhaps, if you were older, you might’ve chosen not to go down the route you did. After all, not everyone in the Order went on missions, some simply supported the Assassins. In recent yours, that’s what your father more or less became. He’d never been as quick or skilled as your mother, and after her death, he’d strayed from that path altogether, save the occasional need to don his Assassin robes.

You stretched, mindful of the stitches in your side, and jumped back into the fray of proper society. It was a role, you reminded yourself, one you might even have fun with if you let yourself.

It took you roaming around for a couple of hours to realize you would not, in fact, have fun with the charade. Every store you tried to enter gawked at the idea of you walking around without a chaperone. When you weren’t getting stared at for being unchaperoned, you were getting stared at hungrily by suitors hoping to get you in compromising situations.

By the time you had trudged back to the Bridgerton home to prepare for promenading in Hyde Park, you were in a sullen mood- a mood only made worse by the fact that there was still an impending conversation you owed Benedict Bridgerton.

You bathed yourself quickly, and dressed in a pastel green dress. It reminded you of the rolling hills outside your home, and the memories were enough to make you throw it on. Some days, you really did miss your home.

You knew, however, that you’d grown out of it. Your time as an Assassin, especially one as skilled as you, had taken you around the globe. The long, golden hallways and intricately painted ceilings felt foreign to you now. Perhaps the feeling of longing you felt wasn’t for your home specifically, but rather the feeling you experienced when you found home.

You puffed out a breath, deciding a walk to the park would do you good. You were getting much too sentimental this day, and it was only a matter of time before your past forced you to listen.

The walk to the park wasn’t far, and the gentle breeze of the wind reminded you of the times you’d spent high above the ground, perched just a nudge from the edge of a drop that would surely kill you. A week without being an Assassin.

A week without being you.

Daphne was the first to see you arrive, and she had a wide smile on her lips that you found yourself returning. She was a sweet girl, and you liked to think that in a different world, one where you weren’t indoctrinated into the Order at such a young age, you might’ve been more like her.

“Your highness,” she greeted sweetly, drawing the rest of her family’s attention. “It is wonderful to see you.”

Her voice was so genuine it made your heart squeeze in your chest. All of your friends were Assassins. As such, you’d all been a bit more distant, death hanging over your heads like a rain cloud, waiting for when you least expected it to strike.

“It is wonderful to see you too,” you replied in kind, and found that you did mean it.

You cleared your throat.

“Is your Duke planning on making an appearance?”

She didn’t comment on your use of the word ‘your’ but she definitely reacted to it. Pink tinged her cheeks, and she offered you a meek nod, so unlike her normally carefully spoken self.

Noted.

You tilted your head in Benedict’s direction, steadfastly ignoring the curious look Anthony was shooting you. He was connecting non-existent dots in regards to you and Benedict, but you’d let him do so, if only because he couldn’t know the truth. And, perhaps, in an effort to keep a distance between you.

“Benedict,” you called, your voice a little softer than normal. “You promised a stroll around the park?”

His momentarily confusion was shook off as he understood what you were alluding too, nodding far too enthusiastically. Whether he realized it or not, he was selling the idea that there may be something more than friendship between you. A quick glance at Anthony confirmed he believed so too, if the scowl on his face was anything to go by.

You ignored it, however, instead looping your arm through Benedict’s and leading the two of you to somewhere a little quieter. You waited until you were sufficiently outside of earshot before you began speaking, and even then, you scanned the area to make sure there were no wandering eyes or ears.

“About the other-“

“I was in a fight,” you said, watching his expression carefully.

He didn’t falter, as if that’d been one of his suspicions. He nodded slowly, cautiously.

“Okay,” he drawled, “Why?”

You sucked in a breath, pulling him towards a lovely rose bush. To anyone of the outside, it looked simply as if you’d stopped to admire them. Truthfully, you’d taken a minute to gather your thoughts.

“What I’m about to say, you cannot repeat.”

Before he could reply, you hissed out, “Ever.”

He swallowed, then paused.

“I promise.”

Your eyes hardened, one hand holding onto your forearm, atop the bracers your hidden blades were concealed in. You hadn’t been able to put the weapons down since you got to London.

“Do you think peace and freedom can coexist?”

If he was confused by your question, he didn’t show it. His answer was near immediate, and perhaps you knew what his reply would be before he even voiced it.

“Yes,” he mumbled. “I don’t see how that answers anything, though.”

You nodded, tapping your fingers along the bracer. It wasn’t visible under the fabric of your dress, and if anyone wondered why you wore sleeves in the warm weather, nobody asked.

“There’s a war,” you spoke slowly, allowing him to digest your words. “For as long as history itself, a battle between freedom and order. My family… we fight for freedom.”

He furrowed his brows, leaning in a titch to examine you closer.

“You… fight?” He inquired, shaking his head the smallest bit. “What war? What are you talking about?”

“Assassins and Templars,” you breathed, watching as his eyes widened, not in recognition of the institutions, but in fear of the word you’d used.

Assassin.

It was an ugly word used to describe an occupation associated with greed and death. He didn’t know about the Order, though. Didn’t know that the Assassins you knew weren’t murderers without a cause, but defenders of the very freedom he enjoyed.

“You’re an-“

“Assassin,” you answered, quick to wrap a tight grip around his arm when he made to turn around.

For whatever reason, or maybe stroke of luck, he believed you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t associating you with the Order, but rather the occupation.

“Let me explain,” you breathed out, making sure to keep your voice even and gentle.

Even though he looked ready to dart away and take his family with him, he nodded once.

You blew out a breath, carefully letting his arm go. He rubbed at where you’d grabbed, and you realized perhaps you’d been holding on a little too tight.

“The Assassin Order is an ancient creed built on the idea of freedom of choice,” you explained, letting your carefully placed mask drop.

You didn’t fight the expressions on your face, nor did you keep your body language unnaturally still. For the first time since you’d known him, you were expressive.

“We don’t kill for money, Benedict,” you said, “Nor for political gain. If we kill,” his eyes widened at the word, “We do so as a last resort to protect others.”

“You’ve killed before?”

He sounded unnaturally small, like a child telling his parents he had a nightmare. You held his stare, praying he could see the sadness deep in your soul.

You hated killing.

It never, ever got easier.

But, you would darken your soul to protect the world from the ugly truth the Templars tried to spread.

“Yes,” you whispered, your eyes shining with a guilt Benedict couldn’t understand.

He puffed out a breath and ran a hand down his face, unable to look into your eyes anymore. He could see the sadness there, the heaviness of the guilt and torment you carried.

You weren’t a bad person. He’d known that, and learning of who you were didn’t change that. It did complicate it a bit though.

“I won’t tell them,” he finally spoke after a particularly long pause. “My family, I mean.”

You were both staring at the roses now. To him, the deep red reminded him of the colors of love, like the still-beating heart of a lover. To you, it was the color of blood, the same sticky heat that stained your hands from the years you spent devoted to your cause.

In that park, you both stood in silence, two people who were starkly different, but perhaps, who could understand each other in a way nobody else could.

The romantic who, despite his station in life, only wanted to create, to make beauty in a world that severely lacked it- and the Assassin who, despite spending a lifetime of fighting, wanted to feel safe again.

Even the wind acknowledged the shift in atmosphere between the two people who actively rejected the roles they’d been born into as it calmed down, it’s caress more like that of a lover than it’d been all afternoon.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you murmured.

He linked his arm back through yours, offering a bit of comfort in the torrent of your thoughts. Slowly, he tugged you back towards where his family was, his pace nearly stopping before he got too close.

“Is it lonely?”

The question took you by surprise, and you looked up at him to find, not horror, but concern. You couldn’t understand how he’d been able to accept you so quickly, but you desperately clung to the feeling.

“Constantly,” you answered sadly, the curve of your lips echoing the melancholic declaration.

Anthony had approached the two of you while you answered, and, despite surprising Benedict, you’d already noticed him. With some amount of amusement, the second son noted that particular bit of information.

“Princess,” he said stiffly, without the normal amount of warmth and affection, or ire, you noted dryly. “Benedict.”

His brother’s name was a warning, and the younger of the two was quick to scurry away with a half-hearted excuse.

“Viscount,” you inclined your head.

He paused for only a brief moment before, with a little bit too much aggression, he asked, “Are you courting my brother?”

There was a hint of mischief as your smile grew, and you gazed up at Anthony beneath your lashes.

“That, I dare say, is none of your business.”

His expression turned even more foul, and he all but growled your name.

“No, my dearest Anthony,” you slipped a hand around his bicep and squeezed, your stomach doing a gentle flip when he visibly relaxed at the answer. “I am not courting anybody.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I must seem at least the slightest bit interested in my suitors, lest word get back to my father,” you joked, unable to bear the intensity with which he was staring at you.

He opened his mouth, as if to tell you to stay, but you slipped away before he could, your heart pounding in your chest. You glared at the spot, like you could will it to slow down.

Anthony Bridgerton was not, and could never be, an option.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine

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thewildwaffle · 6 months

Text

Tattoo

This was written in chunks of when I actually had any drive to write in the past few months, which wasn't often. I tried doing a bit of editing, but my brain demands to move on to the next short. I'm just happy my brain wants to write again, so who am I to argue?

***

The shop was not as dark inside as it looked. Sillik was glad for that. As a duib, his eyes were well-adapted to the bright sunlit mountains of his homeworld, and he managed just fine with the medium-light of the city that Human Ernesto had been showing him around.

It wasn't the human's hometown, that was on the other side of the continent, and the crew they were both part of only had a relatively small radius to go while on surface leave due to time constraints. Thankfully, it was a city that Ernesto had visited many times before, and so was very familiar with all the best places to eat, relax, and otherwise explore. Sillik, Ernesto, and the others in the group they’d been spending the day with only had a few more hours before they needed to be at the spaceport to report back for duty. With full bellies after having had a delightful meal at a small local cafe downtown, they were in no rush as they meandered down the wide sidewalks lined with flowers and lovely shrubbery.

“Woah,” Sillik stopped walking and nearly got run into by Human Carol who had been walking directly behind him, “what is that building?” He pointed to a small brick building a few doors down from where they currently were. Not very out of the ordinary in and of itself, but it was the decoration of the building that had pulled Sillik's attention. The brick texture of the building was completely covered in a base coat of black paint with complex and intricate white and gray patterns swirling across the structure like they’d been poured on and across the whole of it. The grayscale was interrupted by strategically placed pops of color in the form of stylized animals, flowers, and characters that Silllik did not recognize.

Painting the building, with its brick-and-mortar texture would have been hard enough, but whoever had done it had gone beyond. This? This was beautiful! This was art!

Without waiting for an answer to his original question, Sillik approached the building in an almost reverent state of awe. The closer he got, the more he could make out the fine details the artist must have painstakingly minded when painting. It appeared to cover all the building, or at least all parts he could see from the street. How long had it taken to do all this?

Sillik almost didn’t notice when the rest of the group caught up with him. Someone, probably one of the humans, let out a long arching whistle sound. “Oh my stars! Look at the name!” Ernesto laughed as he walked up to the front door. “Tatu Shop?” Carol followed his gaze to the white sign above the door. “What’s so special about it? They just misspelled tattoo, or what?” “No, it’s a pun.” Ernesto pointed to some of the colorful animals painted around the shop. They had long pointed faces and looked like they were built out of armor. “Tatu is Portuguese for armadillo.” “Punny!” Another human, Steph laughed. “So it’s a pet shop?” Sillik asked. It made sense, he supposed. The art of the building was so interesting and happy-looking, and it was widely known that pets often made humans happy. Ernesto laughed “What? No, they do tattoos here. As in body art? It’s a play on words.” He turned back to the sign above the door and hummed to himself. “I’ve actually always wanted a tattoo. Just a small one on my arm. I’ve had the design in my mind for years.” Steph made a show of checking their comm device. “If it’s not too big of a design, they might be able to do it before we have to be back. We still have four hours, but keep in mind we’ll still need to walk to the spaceport shuttle.”

Ernesto frowned. Normally the look of having a scrunched-up brow and the corners of their mouths turned down means that a human is unhappy - usually upset, worried, or angry. But Sillik had been around Ernesto enough to recognize that this particular frown was one he made when he was thinking very hard about something. If he continued doing it long enough, he might stick the tip of his tongue out of his mouth as well. “I’m gonna do it,” Ernesto finally blurted out. He gasped a bit like he was surprised at his own declaration. “Oh my stars, I’m… I’m gonna do it!” He started walking into the shop, the rest of the group following after shooting each other amused looks. Sillik followed, a bit confused, but happy to see what tattoo Ernesto was so excited about getting.

That was how Sillik ended up in the fairly well-lit tattoo shop. He got himself comfortable in a chair off to the side as Ernesto talked with the tall human behind the front counter. The others joined him, except Carol, who paused a bit behind Ernesto while wearing the same frowny-thinking expression on her face. “Carol,” Steph laughed lightly, “you thinking of getting one too?” “Hmmmm…” Carol tilted her head as Ernesto turned to look back at her, “Uh, maybe not right now, actually.” She shuffled over to the line of chairs as Ernesto followed the tall human behind the counter and to some cushioned chairs where Sillik assumed the body art was done. He watched intensely. Thankfully the shop was small enough that he could clearly see everything. The shopkeeper, who must have also been one of the shop’s artists handed Ernesto a clipboard of papers for him to sign. One of them must have been for him to sketch out the design he had in mind. From the way Ernesto explained it as he drew, it seemed like it was indeed very simple. If the artist had even an ounce of skill that the painter of the building had, Ernesto’s “tattoo” should look lovely.

Sillik spent the next few minutes just looking around at the art painted on the shop’s interior walls. It was the same style as the artwork outside but with different designs. There were a few more of those “tatu” creatures that popped up here and there. It was a fun design overall. He might just look into getting something done himself. Maybe not here, but back home. After all, who knows if the paints they use in a "tattoo" is safe for duib skin?

“So what made you second-guess yourself on getting one yourself?” Steph questioned. Sillik turned back to his companions. Carol steepled her hands to hold them under her chin and sighed. “I want one, but I’m not a hundred percent sure what I want. That, and I really, really don’t like needles, so that’s kind of the big issue.”

Needles? Wait. Not paint? What kind of body art is a tattoo that needs needles?! Sillik’s head shot toward Ernesto and the tattoo artist sat together in the chairs just as a buzzing noise started up. Sillik saw the artist holding a small gun-looking device up to Ernesto’s arm, and Ernesto wincing slightly as the point of the device made contact with his skin. Normally, Sillik considered himself very level-headed, which was a good quality to have when you worked closely with humans on a regular basis. Even still, he felt his jaw drop as shock spread itself across his face. Was there a needle on the point of that gun thing? Had Ernesto been injected with something? Thoughts flashed around his brain as he stared. “Carol, Steph,” Sillik kept his voice from squeaking, “what, exactly, is a tattoo? What’s going on?

“Oh,” Steph chirped cheerily as ever, thankfully unaware of just how distraught Sillik felt at the moment. “Tattoos are ink drawings that are injected into the skin. That makes them permanent.” Sillik stared at her, then over to Ernesto. “But… but doesn’t that hurt?” “Yeah,” Carol looked over to Ernesto like she was searching for something. “He might have given him some lidocaine cream, but I’m not really sure. Don’t a lot of tattoo artists not like using it?” She asked Steph. “Depends,” Steph looked over to Ernesto and the tattoo artist who was already doing good work on the design. “I doubt he bothered, the arm is one of the least painful places to get a tattoo.” “Isn't the most painful place the armpit or something?” “Why would someone get a tattoo in their armpit? What would you even put there?” “I don’t know, I can think of a couple really funny ideas.”

Sillik gaped at them but then turned back to watch the tattoo process again. Ernesto wasn’t crying out. He looked like he was in pain, but he had personally seen the human get injured in what seemed to be much “smaller” incidents and had had much bigger reactions. Like when he stubbed his toe three cycles ago. What is the deal? Humans and how they react to pain in different ways is so weird!

Steph must have noticed his attention had gone elsewhere again and thought it funny to add, “You know, this method of getting a tattoo is much less painful than it used to be, back in the day.” Of course it was, Sillik thought. Still, it was something that he felt needed more of an explanation, so he looked back at her and waited for her to continue. “There were two different ways, at least that I know of. One was with just a really sharp needle dipped in soot or seal oil or whatever and then the person giving the tattoo just poked you over and over and over to get it all under the skin.” Steph enunciated the “over and over” part by miming holding a needling and poking at Sillik like she was an old-timey tattoo artist. “Another way,” she continued, “and in my opinion, this one seems like the most uncomfortable way to do pretty much anything, was pretty much sewing the tattoo into your skin, with a needle pulling along a thread that had been dipped in dye. And again, the dye back then was either soot or seal oil or what have you.”

Thank the stars Sillik had been serving around humans for a couple of solar cycles now. If he had learned all this from the start, he would have thrown up. Though he felt like if he kept watching Ernesto getting his tattoo, there was a good chance of that happening still.

He spent the next hour or so staring at his feet as thought of why humans do the things they do until Steph and Carol decided to take pity on him and offered to take him to look around at the other shops on the street while they waited. Carol put a hand on his shoulder as they guided him out of the shop, “Don’t worry about it Sil, like I said, I don’t like needles either.” Sillik nodded as they stepped back into the sunshine on the street. He didn’t say anything about how he didn’t actually have an issue with needles. At least not for medical uses, for which he was used to seeing them. But injecting ink deep into your skin? Something about the idea just made him shiver. He wished Steph hadn’t told him about how tattoos used to be done. He’d never get that out of his brain.

Why can't humans just do normal, painted-on body art, like sane people?

#humans are weird #haw #space orcs #tattoo #body art #short story #aliens #humans and aliens #humanity fuck yeah #writeblr #hfy #original writing

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sun-stricken · 2 months

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I hope this isn’t too much of a bother but do you have any hcs abt grays time in avatar? Cannon is frustratingly vague about his time there. Have a nice day!

i totally thought i responded to this days ago holy shit its been a minute

I havent read or watched the avatar arc in forever, and refuse to do it again so i played it a bit fast and loose with the dynamic

This gets a bit dark, just a little forewarning

* if you asked the mages that shared his time at avatar, Gray had earned the reputation of someone callous and cold and untouchable, who didnt get his hands dirty

* he used more charismatic techniques to obtain information, or fear, but it was rare to see him physically harm them

* If you asked Gray about his time in avatar, he wouldn’t give you a straight answer, if he gave one at all

* Avatar knew who he was, for an undercover mission he wasnt under a whole lot of cover. He was sent in as himself, his “cover/backstory” was a lot of half truths and a warped narrative

* He climbed through the ranks faster than expected, which caused a lot of rumors and speculation, such as maybe the ‘Higher Ups’ were so enthralled by an ex-light guid member turning over they rushed him through, or he did something so heinous they were impressed, or maybe he slept with them

* there were a lot of rumors.

* Of course, most arent true, Gray just had more to offer than the average person

* In most dark guilds / cults there are ‘trials’ of sort to prove someone loyalty, hazings of sorts

* He had to go through them ten times over

* It lasted weeks, around a quarter of the time spent at Avatar was his ‘initiation’

* There were certain points where Gray thought they might actually break him

* He refused to use his ice-make magic during his time in Avatar, he couldnt bear using Urs magic for something like this

* He developed these piercing migraines from his eyes constantly darting around his surrounding, and he rarely slept

* Avatar wasnt a inherently paranoid guild, but it was protective and unrelenting, being caught as a traitor was terms for a public violent execution

* There were two other alleged traitors in Grays time there, when they were accused they were tortured and executed in front of the entire ‘guild’

* and he wouldn’t allow himself to even twitch in case that set his own death in motion, It just served to further his reputation

* He never told Erza about this.

* Despite his reputation, the untouchable aura he gave off proved attractive to some people, they thinking being seen fraternizing with someone like him would earn them some respect, and given some of the rumors surrounding him, they thought he would reciprocate

* He didnt, for obvious reasons, and he often left the more handsy and assertive with frostbite and frozen to the ground for hours

* He had bi-weekly check-ins with Erza so he could relay his and their progress and so she could gauge his mental state; Gray gave her watered down versions of the things hed seen and endured during the months he was there unless it pertained to what she needed to close the operation

* He and Erza had a system where he would call her and she would help him smuggle out any victims Avatar took for information or as a message

* He had killed once while in Avatar, it was a man they were ‘interrogating’ who couldn’t provide anymore information and they couldnt just let him go, so they entrusted Gray taking care of him while they watched, it was a test to see if he would, it was as fast and humane as killing someone can be but he will never ‘get over’ it

* He can still remember exactly how he looked, how he sounded, down to the smallest detail

* That was what almost broke him

* He didnt draw it out, it was fast and clean, which was another reason for his ‘doesn’t get his hands dirty’ reputation

* He tried to live by the ‘the ends justify the means’ principle, he survived Avatar by doing what he had to, regardless of what that was that was

* He tried so hard to help himself cope with it, but he just couldnt no matter how hard he tried

* Even though he acted annoyed when the rest of his team burst into Avatar and tore down his whole operation, he was relieved, so fucking relieved he didnt have to stay any longer

* The transition after Avatar was, for lack of a better term, fucking terrible. there was a lot of panic and guilt and paranoia and dissociating to get him through it

* He trained his instincts to act to the slightest trouble, which would be fine considering every movement towards him before was trouble

* But hes back with his friends now, with the people who wouldnt hurt him. So instead of being proud of his reflexes all he feels is panic and guilt

* Gray was constantly searching for an exit and always kept one open and in sight, and would forget he was with safe people and lash out if they blocked one

* Months following the reformation of Fairy Tail held a lot of blanks for Gray, his brain in an attempt to finally protect him would have him go on autopilot, dissociate. He did this a lot early on after Deloria but he thought he ‘grew out of it’, clearly not

* His sleep got even worse after Avatar, he thought the familiar environment would help him but it only made him more on edge

* He knew what could happen to them if he let himself sleep at the guild, the thought of something happening while was taking a fucking nap was nauseating enough that his brain wouldn’t let him let his guard down enough to feel tired

* And sleeping at home was out of the question completely, if a dark mage decided tonight was the night for vengeance against him for tearing apart their cult, how could he defend himself if he was asleep?

* This was fine for a while, but when the adrenaline crash of no longer actually needing to be on guard 24/7 and the weeks of no more than half an hour (involuntary) naps caught up to him, it caught hard

* i mean, it was brutal, collapsed at the first moment of relative peace he came across, it felt almost like withdrawal, with a lot of sleeping

* in some ways he feels so fucking angry and almost betrayed by Erza for asking him to go undercover for her, for making him go through everything he did. But he knows if he didnt its possible she wouldve, and he would do it all over again if it meant that wouldnt happen.

* In other way, hes angry at himself for letting himself get to this point, for letting them break something in him like they did.

* He’ll realistically never be able to go back to before, never be able to trust people, his friends, truly and without reservation again

i hate the avatar arc sometimes but it provides such good material

#fairy tail #a lot of rhis is worldbuilding for some reason #gray fullbuster #erza scarlet #sun strickens ft #sun stricken answers #fairy tail headcanons #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #i mean theyre implied to be there #so #angst is my favorite snack #gray and his violent guilt complex vs having to become a dark mage #who will win?!#hopefully therapy #avatar arc

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justrandomfanfictionskh · 1 year

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We Should Have Stayed in Gotham ch2

(Almost every Maribat fic I read has the akuma class going to Gotham. But tell me which is more likely, a class touring the city of crime, or a class touring the city of lights? So here it is, the Daminette fic that only I asked for, where Gotham goes to Paris, and the poor students have to grapple with the fact that they have competition for the most dangerous city in the world. I wonder what will happen?)

ao3 Beginning

Once all the Parisians were gone, the mutterings began. It seemed to Damian that the class was divided into three groups. One was the group who were actually taking the threat seriously. The other was the group that still thought this was all some sort of massive joke, or prank. And then there was the group in the middle, who simply didn’t care. “We’re from Gotham!” a girl from this group said. “We can handle whatever magical bullshit this is. Whether it’s a prank or not doesn’t matter! Just download the apps and let’s go.”

Everyone obeyed as the teachers handed out phones to the under privileged students, and then they filed back to the bus. As they moved amid a series mutterings, scoffing, and nervous glancing, Damian Wayne had drawn in on himself in contemplation. On the one hand, this whole situation seemed ridiculous. Magic Butterflies? Seriously? But then again, Damian had seen stranger. His ex-girlfriend was a half demon from a magic dimension. His best friend was half alien. Magic butterflies turning people into villains was not outside of the realm of possibility. No, what really bothered him, was the Justice League.

Assuming for a moment that this “Hawkmoth” was every bit as dangerous and threatening as those girls had described, then where was the Justice League. Why hadn’t they gotten involved? Did they even know about this? He doubted it, but his father did not tell him everything. It made him furrow his brow in confusion. There was just something not adding up here. And Damian had to be prepared for whatever it was. So he pulled out his phone and began to peruse the websites, his survival guide recommended.

The first conclusion he came to, was that this was not a prank. There was too much information, and too many details for Hawkmoth and Ladybug to be fake, even if they did seem a bit ridiculous. Just looking at the government site, Damian could tell that the “powers that be” were taking this very seriously, and were doing everything in their power to mitigate the dangers. Akuma shelters being made a new building requirement. Guidance counselors being placed in every school. Akuma victim support groups. Whatever was happening in this city, it was real.

But how real? Damian wondered as he opened the blog, SpotsOn. Are they overreacting? Is it some sort of mass hallucination? Where is the Justice League?

Damian’s eyebrow arched in surprise. It was the only external sign he gave that he was effected by what he saw. The government site had given him the basic information, the miraculous, Hawkmoth’s goals, Ladybug’s powers, her roster of heroes, and the most common akuma protocols. SpotsOn.com on the other hand was a virtual treasure trove of what was happening in the city. It had all of the government’s info, but also videos of the akuma battles, uploaded by the citizens, and a complete list of all of the known akumas organized by threat level.

Damian went to this list immediately, drowning out his peers, and came to the immediate conclusion that everyone was overreacting. The threats were categorized by the damage done, so while there were many akumas that seemed to have a great deal of power, they never did any real harm to the city. For example, Mr. Pigeon was the most common akuma with a power that could be terrifying if used correctly. But his page read like this…

Akuma: Mr. Pigeon

Threat Level: One

Power: The ability to control all pigeon, and pigeon adjacent birds in the city.

Akumatized Object: The birdcall around his neck.

Damage: Traffic Jams, Defamation of Statues and Monuments, Kidnapping of Police and Park Personnel.

Action Caused: Messing with the pigeons.

Akuma Prevention Note: DO NOT MESS WITH THE PIGEONS! RESPECT THE PIGEON! BE NICE TO THE PIGEON! DO NOT MESS WITH THE PIGEONS!

Battle Videos: Link

It was almost enough to make Damian laugh, as he perused the list. He could see where some of these creatures could become dangerous. Like this level four akuma, Bubbler. He looked like a bad toy design made by someone high on LSD, but his ability to trap all of the adults in bubbles and send them into the stratosphere was concerning. It was a legitimate threat, but in the end, he hadn’t killed anyone. None of the level 1-4s had, and they were the most common.

Damian set down his phone as they reached the hotel. He didn’t get a chance to look at the level fives, but he was satisfied in his appraisal. The threat was real, the government and this ‘Ladybug’ had it under control. Those girls had just been overly dramatic, probably because they had been akumatized before (The victims were never listed on either the government or the blog). But there was no need for this to disrupt his vacation away from his practically insane family. He could spend the entire trip just sitting on Seine and drawing. He’d tell his father about it when he got home, so that the Justice League could put an end to all of this tom foolery. But until then, he just wanted to focus on his art.

They didn’t stay at the hotel long. Now that everyone had a phone, a trip group chat had been made. And once everyone was settled in their perspective rooms, plans for their free evening began to take shape. Soon a text went out from the teachers saying that they were going to stave off jetlag by going to get lunch and traveling to the top of the Eiffel Tower. It was an arrangement that pleased Damian and promised a fruitful trip. The top of the Tower was said to be spectacular, and he packed his sketchbook just in case. As it was, he spent most of the first day by himself despite being surrounded by peers. So he took the opportunity to watch the civilians and judge his fellow students, and both surprised him.

What surprised him about the Parisians was how the walked. They weren’t like Gothamites who rushed about in silence with their heads down. But there was a wariness to their steps, and a tension in their shoulders. And though they talked free and easy, with smiles on their faces, every now and then they would glance up at the sky, their eyes darting and their smiles wary.

What surprised him about the Gothamites was that the class divide was almost non-existent now. Instead, the groups had mixed into the three groups from before. And none of them were content to let the subject drop until they had come to a consensus.

“You can’t honestly be thinking this!” Chad exclaimed gesturing at the sun washed streets and the laughing families in the park. “Is more dangerous than Gotham?”

“Of course not!” said a Gotham High student, Damian remembered that her name was Kathryn. “Nowhere is more dangerous than Gotham. But that doesn't mean these villains aren’t a threat.”

“Just because Clue Master, is less dangerous than Riddler,” a Gotham Academy boy, Arthur said, “Doesn’t mean his games aren’t deadly.”

“But it’s just too…childish!” a Gotham High girl said, “I mean butterflies!”

“Condiment King,” Kathryn stated dryly.

“Touché,” the second girl said.

“Does it even matter?” It was the girl who had gotten everyone moving to the bus. She was from Gotham High, and Damian thought her name was…Alice. Poor girl, Damian thought, I wonder if I’ve ever saved her from the Mad Hatter. Alice seemed bored by the whole talk, as the line for the Tower moved forward. “Threat or no threat. They’re not here now, so can’t we just enjoy the day! I mean the sun is shining! The sun never shines in Gotham.”

Chad opened his mouth, probably to say something idiotic, when suddenly everyone’s phones went off with a distinct chime like a bell. In that heart beat every single Parisian froze and pulled out their phone. Then in the same breath they all seemed to relax, and as one moved calmly, but quickly, away from the park and the Eiffel Tower. A park employee stepped forward and called out in heavily accented English.

“My apologies madams and monsieur’s. But an akuma has been sited, and Ladybug has requested that the Eiffel Tower be evacuated as quickly as possible!”

“What?” Chad and several other “This is all a joke” students began to grumble, as everyone else pulled out their phones.

Damian did likewise, but he was distracted by what was happening around him. It had seemed that for a moment, all of Paris had operated under a strange hivemind, the moment the Akuma Alert had gone off. But they weren’t behaving like he had expected them too. If these people were really overreacting to the threat, then they should be running and screaming in terror. Instead, the park employees were gently and professionally herding the tourists through the park, as half the students argued that, “They would be fine. They were from Gotham.”

Damian took that time to look at the alert. His entire screen had been taken over by a black page with red letters that cried,

AKUMA ALERT: LEVEL 5.

Akuma: Gigantitan

Local Evacuation Protocol in effect! All citizens in the Champs de Mars and Rue Desaix evacuate to a three block radius, or to your nearest Akuma Shelter.

Ladybug: ON THE SCENE

Chat Noir: MIA

Temporary Heroes:

Miss. Hound: ON THE SCENE

Bumble Queen: ON THE SCENE

Ryuko: ON THE SCENE

Damian furrowed his brow. He looked up as the guides ushered them behind the line of police cars that were blocking the park. He saw that a number of people and news outlets had lined up to here, and were waiting almost eagerly to see what would happen. “You can stand here and watch,” the park employee said, and Damian narrowed his eyes at the strained frustration, and almost vindictive smile she gave them. “But unfortunately, this is as close as anyone gets that isn’t a Miraculous holder. Even if you are ‘from Gotham.’”

Damian hid a groan at the implication. There was so much wrong with that statement it was physically grating, the least of it not being the sheer stupidity and incivility of his class mates. But he put all thoughts aside to focus on the park in front of him.

It was quiet. The entire park, that had once been bustling with tourists and families, laughing, and playing, was now quieter than a Gotham alleyway at night. From their position they had a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, and Damian focused on memorizing this moment for his sketchbook later. It was so serine and beautiful, and…

The ground began to shake, and the reporters fell silent. Damian braced himself as the loud footfalls of something enormous echoed through the quiet city and shook the very buildings around them. A loud cry echoed through the streets, and Damian had to cover his ears against the high-pitched whine. He scanned the area with the practiced vigilance of his training, searching desperately for the creature. Then he saw it.

Damian’s eyes bulged and his mouth dropped, and he stared in wordless astonishment at the giant purple and green baby head towering over the buildings to his right. It was so…bizarre. Damian barely even processed the three figures running around it. They were just so small compared to the being that was easily four stories high, but their own colorful costumes made them stand out on the Paris roof tops.

Damian recognized the three heroes from his research, and shaking off the wonder of the giant toddler, focused on them and their actions. The heroes were quiet, practiced, and efficient. Ryuko danced in front of the akuma drawing him out of the streets and into the open space of the park. The creature cried again, with what Damian now recognized was an unbearable, ear shattering, child’s wail. And as he did so the giant flung out his arms in a tantrum breaking the buildings and sweeping them aside as one would sweep away Legos. Bumble Queen and Miss. Hound dove after the debris, but they were still preoccupied with herding the creature.

Damian stared as the creature stepped out into the park. The tree heroines carefully and efficiently driving it towards the tower. Then the creature cried out in joy and picked up one of the abandoned cars on the street. Damian could only stare as the baby began playing with it as if it were a toy as he danced around his new play pen.

Now the three heroines were focused on keeping the giant child inside the park. It was easily the strangest battle Damian had ever witnessed, as the baby didn’t seem to care for anything except for his new toy, while the heroes dodged his feet and directed his path with literally anything the could get their hands on. But where was…Damian blinked as he spotted a small bright red figure leap off of the top of the Eiffel Tower. As the figure fell, a bright, shiny, red cloth with black spots encased the tower until it was completely covered.

“Hey Gigantitan!” The figure yelled. Her commanding voice echoing through the park causing a everyone to straighten and turn towards her, even the giant baby. The baby in question cooed, and then screamed in delight. That was when Damian understood. The hero had made the Eiffel Tower look like a giant piece of colorful candy. And now the baby was stomping towards it in joy.

Unfortunately as he did so, the child decided that he didn’t want his toy anymore and tossed the car…right at the Gothamites. Damian braced himself as people screamed. He closed his eyes as the vehicle got closer and then…

“Cataclysm!” a new voice yelled. Damian blinked as a shower of rusty ash fell on his head. A boy in a black cat suit now stood on top of the police car watching the fight.

“Chat Noir!” Bumble Queen yelled landing beside the new hero in a storm of black and yellow. “Where have you been?! The battle’s almost over!”

“I’m sorry Queenie,” Chat Noir cried, as he played with his tail looking like a kicked puppy, “It took me thirty minutes just to get away! Now where does my Lady need me?”

“Nowhere,” Bumble Queen huffed, “She’s got it sorted. See!”

Damian’s attention turned back just in time to watch the giant toddler open his mouth and bite down hard on the metal structure as if he were eating a candy bar. But even as the child stared in confusion at the building for not turning into a chocolaty treat. The red figure threw something and broke the bracelet on the child's wrist. Something black came out of the broken jewelry, but it was quickly caught by the hero. The child was then encased in a black and purple substance, and the next moment the monsterous child vanished. The Tower’s wrapping as pulled down, and a clear calm voice shouted out, “Miraculous Ladybug!”

Damian watched in wonder as a cloud of glowing ladybugs descended on the city and began repairing all the damages. The roof tops were fixed. Injuries were healed, and in just under one minute, it was like nothing ever happened. The heroes gathered together under the Eiffel Tower and the park employee began ushering the students back to the park saying, “The Eiffel Tower will reopen in thirty minutes, best get back in line now. Thank you, for your patience, especially if you’re from Gotham!”

But before Damian could move, he saw a random businessman check his watch, curse, pull out his phone, and say, “Hey, yeah it’s me, look I’m going to be late. Akuma attack blocked the Champs de Mars again…no yeah the tower’s fine. It didn’t even get knocked over this time…yeah sure I can pick up some cheese on the way home…is there anything else—"

Damian followed his class in a kind of dazed horror. What kind of city was this that a giant baby attacking their signature monument gets spoken of in the same manner as bad traffic? He had thought that kind of casual compliance with villains only happened in Gotham. And yet…

Damian’s phone pinged. It was the Akuma Alert, only this time it read in green letters…

AKUMA DE-EVILIZED.

Total Damages: €5,000,000

Injured: 50

Casualties: 16

Percent Cured: 100%

THANK YOU, LADYBUG!

Damian shoved his phone into his pocket, as he watched Ladybug return a perfectly normal child to his mother, then vanish among the roof tops. He moved like a zombie through the streets as he was completely consumed by two thoughts. One, where was the Justice League? And two, I’m never going to get a quite vacation.

@night-ngale @annastasha @ev-cupcake @hammalammadamdam @laydeekrayzee @itsemmylie @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks

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whattheshock · 7 months

Text

⭐️ STAR TREATMENT (miguel o'hara band au)

summary: miguel's still pissing you off, but maybe he's different than he seems... wc: 1117 cw: use of y/n, harassment

⋆part 3⋆ masterlist

"ugh, where is he?" you asked in frustration. "this is the second time he's missed rehearsal this week & the tour starts in 9 days!" you slid down the wall, sinking to the floor, your head in your hands.

it'd been a little over 2 months since the record exec showed up at a show & offered spider sense a record deal. the band was so excited, but miguel seemed like he couldn't care less. he argued about every detail on the contract, stormed out of the recording studio as fast as he could as soon as their sessions ended, & seemed to dread going on tour more & more by the day, telling you he'd 'rather die than be cooped up on a tour bus with these pendejos for months.'

"just ignore him, if he wants to be an asshole & not participate, there's not much we can do." dean said as he packed up his bass in its case.

"seriously?"

"we would do something but no one wants to get into it with that guy..." aiden said as he slung his guitar case over his shoulder.

"so you guys do do anything? you just let him treat you like shit just because he can drum?"

they all looked at each other. "yeah..." they all said in unison as the continued clearing out their studio.

you scoffed & rolled your eyes as you approached caleb. "why haven't you guys just kicked him out? is there no other drummer for your band?"

"look, [y/n]..." caleb stopped packing up his bag & turned to face you. "we don't exactly like dealing with him, but he's the most talented drummer i've ever met, he makes our band sound the way it does... as much as i wanna swipe those drumsticks right out of his big, stupid hands & snap them in half & smash his skull into his bass drum... i can't... i don't expect you to get it-"

"no, i get it, i do... as much as you don't want him, you need him..."

"right... oh, do you need a ride home? i know your car's in the shop & all..."

"nah, it's fine."

"but it's raining-"

"it's fine, caleb, i'm not gonna make you drive all the way to the other side of town just for me..." you said with a smile. "see you soon." you gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek & left the studio.

thankfully, the rain was light, but this part of new york was always to gloomy when it rained. it was late, the buzz of barely working neon signs filling your ears.

"hey..." a breathy voice said, it was coming from the alleyway. the voice belonged to an older man hiding in the shadows, his face illuminated by his cigarette. you kept walking. "oh, c'mon, won't you give me a smile?" he said as he walked out on to the sidewalk. you continued walking faster. "c'mon..." he reached out, grabbing your bag, pulling you back with it.

"hey! let go!" you grabbed it back from him. suddenly, there was a loud honk & a cherry red sports car pulled up next to the sidewalk. it was an older car but still ridiculously nice. the tinted window on the driver's side rolled down, a few raindrops falling into the car.

"get in," miguel said. you looked back at him in disbelief before taking his offer & quickly getting in the passenger seat before he drove off, splashing the man with rain water, probably on purpose.

"sorry, i'm getting your nice car all wet..."

"whatever, it's fine." miguel grumbled, keeping his focus on the road.

awkward silence filled the car. finally, you spoke up. "why did you help me?"

"excuse me?"

"why did you help me?"

he rolled his eyes. "what, was i just supposed to do nothing? what kind of man would i be if i just left someone out in the rain to keep getting harrassed, especially someone i know?"

"oh, so you just helped me because you would've felt guilty," you scoffed. "i thought you actually cared for a second there..."

"what makes you think i don't?" he stared at me intensely as we were stopped at a red light. "whatever... where do you live?"

"excuse me?"

"can't exactly take you home if i don't know where your home is." he said a bit sarcastically.

"oh, right, uh... 2099 north avenue..."

the light turned green he started driving you home. the rain was loud against the car, so you put your headphones on to drown it out.

"what are you listening to?" miguel asked. you rolled your eyes & leaned against the cold window, ignoring him, so he lifted them off of your ear.

"hey!" you said as the sounds of arctic monkeys spilled out of your headphones. you slapped his hand away & adjusted your headphones back onto your ear.

"you have good taste..." he said, a faint smile crossing his lips.

you were shocked. "did you just... smile?" a smile of your own appearing on your face as you teased him.

"what is that supposed to mean? am i not allowed to smile or something?"

"no, it's just... you never smile, you've got serious resting bitch face."

"resting bitch face?" he asked with a laugh.

"yeah, you constantly look pissed, & you act like it, too... you're an asshole, y'know..."

"really? so you really think i'm some massive asshole who doesn't care about anyone or anything?"

"yeah, basically... that's the impression we're all getting from you."

"hm..." his grip on the steering wheel tightened. "i'll keep that in mind, because that's not who i am, & that's not how i wanna be seen..."

silence filled the car as he pulled up in front of your apartment building. "thank you... i don't know if i thanked you before..."

"it's fine, it wasn't any trouble... do you need me to walk you to your apartment or-"

"no, i'll be fine, thanks again." you smiled & without thinking, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. your eyes went wide, realizing what you'd just done. you quickly opened the car door, awkward yelling "bye!" before closing the door & running inside without looking back.

you hurried up the stairs to the 5th floor, finally reaching apartment 505, unlocking the door & slamming it after you went inside. you pressed your back against the door, listening to the faint sounds of rain against the windows & your pounding heart. there was a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach & you gripped your shirt tightly. was it anger? anxiety? embarrassment? no, it was butterflies.

you were falling for miguel.

an: tysm for reading part 3 of star treatment! i'm so sry this chapter is late i was having srs writer's block... lmk if u have any questions (my inbox is always open!) or wanna be tagged in new chapters! reblogs r greatly appreciated :)

credit to @benkeibear for the dividers

taglist: @freehentai

part 4 coming soon...

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17-noodlebird · 2 months

Text

presenting...

The Amazing Digital Circus Road Trip AU!!!! 🎪🛣️🎉

I finally have the courage to post something of genuine purpose here!!!

So this is the summary:

• The events prior to the road trip were… eventful, for lack of a better term. To make a long story short, a group of dimensional travelers opened the eyes of the Amazing Digital Circus, both for better and for worse. What started out so rocky ended up becoming a closer bond for them, as they learned more about the other dimensions, and maybe, just maybe, the enigmatic inner machinations of C&A and their perpetually dark history.

• About 6 months went by since then, with Bubble, and four of the interdimensional diplomats, Beth, Pam, Val, and Garcia, creating brand new maps for the game that the others could explore, while completing tasks, gaining artifacts, and meeting brand new people, all while keeping the details secret until it was ready. The other diplomats each had their own contributions to their own game maps, as did Bubble, but only one knew the ending of the road trip: the main diplomat Lulu.

• The road trip would be akin to the world level-based collect-a-thon video games, a la the Super Mario Odyssey, and the role-playing games a la the Steven Universe: Light series. Twenty-six designated levels were made, each with a different theme, animation style, culture, customs, interactable NPCs, characters in need of help, and antagonists/bosses that they can defeat.

• There is a door made out of mountain rock that needs to be unlocked, using all twenty-six (or twenty-eight, depending on your point of view on the matter) jewels, to unlock the “ending” of the road trip; no one else, not even Bubble, knows what's behind the rock door — no one, that is, except Lulu. She says that it's a surprise for afterwards. Each gem is hidden somewhere in their respective worlds, and the players need to obtain and collect all of the jewels in order to open that door by completing tasks, fulfilling objectives, and defeating antagonists. While the circus players pack their things into the Magical Digital Van (a combo of the Magic School Bus for the cutesy face that only communicates in beeps or radio music, and Vanzilla from The Loud House, in terms of retro appearance and spaciousness in cargo and passengers), Garcia gives Caine a silver-colored crystalline gem, causing a “YOU DID IT” pop-up to appear, startling him. Apparently, the pop-up appears when a jewel is obtained after completing the location’s objective. After the first jewel is placed in the middle of the rock door, The Amazing Digital Circus sets off for fun and adventure, thrills and peril, comedy and tragedy, action and excitement, an obscure all-star cast of side characters, heroes, villains, pop culture references, ties to nostalgia, relatability, and… possibly romance…...? Who knows? The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.

• Each of the Digital Circus members have magical Velcro bracelet communicators that they can use to contact the diplomats for help on tasks, finding out further information, or to just talk to them the same way we'd talk to our loved ones on the phone for hours on end. The communicators also send the circus members notifications for an objective they must complete (do keep in mind they can come much later than usual when they least expect it), as well as random achievements, the same way you would when actually playing a video game. Once a jewel has been obtained by any means, the pop-up will congratulate the circus members for grabbing the jewel, as well as to notify how many left you need to obtain to unlock the rock door. For example:

~ JEWEL OBTAINED! ~

15 out of 26

Only 11 remain

~~~~

Characters:

The original eight characters have been slightly altered to fit the AU, but still have most of their canon traits intact.

• Caine:

Caine is still the charismatic goofball we all know and love, but with a dash of nervousness, inability to understand human humor, especially Gen Z humor, and hints of newfound irritability. He's practically a fish out of water in most of these game locations, not really capable of self-defense outside of his signature cane, and being a lot more cautious and protective with his fellow members, especially his best friend and guide, Pomni. Caine sometimes acts as the dad friend of the group, not tolerating anyone's BS and trying to maintain order in situations he's absolutely not familiar with at all. When around Pomni, he feels kinda at ease, with their dynamic being akin to SpongeBob and Patrick when working together. Hell, Jax even refers to Caine and Pomni as The Dynamic Duo.

• Bubble:

Still the chaotic, anarchy-loving glutton we all know and love, but with a caring side to him. You see, for as long as Bubble could remember, he had been Caine's sole confidant, being there for him during his toughest battles, from witnessing yet another abstraction, to calming the ringleader down after a nasty panic attack. They're even roommates! (my god, they were roommates) Bubble would totally just go with the flow and not worry too much about having to adapt to an environment completely different than his own. In fact, his masochistic tendencies make the perils more thrilling for him! He'd also act as the mom friend of the bunch, acting as some sort of mediator for when things get too chaotic for his liking. He'll also lend a helping hand if so desired.

•Pomni:

She's still jittery and anxious, but thankfully not as bad as when she first arrived at The Amazing Digital Circus. After several months of dealing with this game's BS, she developed an indifference to her situation as a defense mechanism, and has become something of a voice of reason to the others. Jesters in real life are known for not just providing entertainment and comedic nitpicks to the royal court, but were also considered their royal advisors. Pomni would become Caine's advisor after some constructive criticisms towards him and his methods of keeping the others sane and healthy, and later on his best friend, acting as Bubble's stand in from time to time, providing witty banter and friendly roast sessions with the other circus members. Jax often calls Pomni and Caine “The Dynamic Duo” because of the fact that they share some things in common: both can turn into nervous wrecks during stressful situations, both are hilarious to be around, both want to keep the circus happy and healthy, and both care immensely for the well-being of everyone around them. Rumor has it they're also drinking buddies; but nothing has been confirmed…

• Ragatha:

Still our cheerful and good-natured ragdoll, with big sister/ant tendencies. Her hugs are as soft as they are warm and reassuring. She'd be the one to always look on the bright side, even when surrounded by unfamiliar surroundings, kinda like Ruby Gloom. She still has to keep an eye on Jax and make sure he doesn't get up to no good, but during moments where Ragatha and Jax must work together, there are things they can learn from one another. Ragatha would teach Jax the importance of being kind to others as well as taking time to listen and understand them, while Jax could teach Ragatha how to be more assertive and set proper boundaries, making her less of a passive pushover and more confident in taking care of herself first. Ragatha could also attract animals and have them help around with chores, a la Snow White.

• Jax:

Jax is less of a condescending asshole and more of a Jerk With A Heart Of Gold, becoming Pomni's big brother figure when necessary. Sometimes, he and Pomni would get into comedic hijinks of their own, as regular siblings naturally would, even pulling off harmless pranks. Jax is still snarky as always, but this time, being more genre savvy than the others, taking notes of his surroundings, and apparently has a lot of knowledge about agriculture, which proves useful for one particular road trip location. He'll also go out of his way to give someone a hug if he sense someone is in dire need of one, and will offer helpful advice during his more rare moments of kindness.

• Gangle:

Still the cute and bubbly but also emotional and prone to crying talking theater mask, but with hidden depths. Her love for anime and all things Japan is generally what keeps her going, as well as her love for drawing. Gangle doesn't really contribute much other than trying to be as helpful as possible, especially after finding out she can use her ribbons as a rope! Golly! She is, however, incredibly intelligent, with a knack for math, science, and history, as we come to find out in a road trip location, and can even speak and translate Japanese. When Gangle decides to grow a spine in protecting her friends from harm or bullying (even Jax, surprisingly), her voice has a tendency to change to a more mature and assertive business-like tone (remember that her VA, Marissa Lenti, was once the voice of a high school guidance counselor until… y'know.) to show you that you really shouldn't fuck with her. This causes Jax to rethink picking on Gangle ever again at one point.

• Zooble:

Honestly, not much can be said about Zooble, other than they're mostly apathetic, slightly rude, and snarky, being there cuz they can. They, along with Bubble, kinda just go with the flow, but now has the ability to become awestruck or starstruck by the other circus members’ newfound abilities, including Gangle's rope ribbons. Zooble also takes time to appreciate the little things in life, enjoying the much-needed change of pace the road trip brings. They're basically the emo goth kid in terms of personality, but with layers like an onion. Zooble also acts as the bodyguard of the circus members, somehow discovering her prowess in defensive combat, fueled by the innate desire to protect their loved ones at all costs.

• Kinger:

The oldest surviving member of the circus, Kinger still retains his ability to get startled easily from constantly dissociating, his love for insects and insect collecting, and his knack for building pillow forts. Due to being the oldest, he now acts as the group’s grandpa, with his “back in my day” kind of storytelling, and apparent knowledge of how the digital world works. He also offers some life advice on how to get through even the toughest days, him having lived through it long ago with Queenie’s abstraction, and is noticeably a lot more chipper and compassionate during the road trip. He also becomes braver and more empathetic in one particular road trip location, with him becoming less startled easily over time. He apparently is also a tech genius (in reference to MatPat and finnthepony’s theory on Kinger’s past life as The Amazing Digital Circus’s game dev), having knowledge on how to fix machines and software, as well as acting as the gang's mechanic for the Magical Digital Van.

~~~~

• The Magical Digital Van:

Built by Bubble, Kinger, Val, and Beth, the Magical Digital Van is the main vehicle the circus members use for the road trip, traveling to different destinations and stops along the way. The Van has a cutesy face that pays homage to The Magic School Bus, with her own emotions and reactions, but can only communicate in van noises, horn beeps, and radio music. Yes, the Van is a girl; a lot of vehicles in real life (including ships) are referred to by female pronouns. Kinger especially loves the Van like he would his girlfriend, much to the chagrin of everyone else.

~~~~

• Potential ships(?):

I might be the only one in a sea of Showtime, Bluetooth, and Kingleader, among others on this platform, but I actually do ship Caine x Bubble. When I first saw the pilot, I thought to myself, “yep. These two definitely have chemistry.” I see them as one of those old bickering couples that like to tease each other. They've basically been through thick and thin, gray skies and sunny days, tears of laughter, and everything in between. Also, I'm in love with the idea of Caine just being a tsundere; I find it pretty hilarious to me. And Pomni being the Shipper On Deck in the background. I have a particular fondness for the unusual.

Another ship mentioned here is Jax x Ragatha. Remember The Princess & The Frog where Naveen taught Tiana to relax a little, while Tiana taught Naveen to take life more seriously and work harder to achieve his goals? Well, it's essentially that, like rivals to lovers or something. I love when “opposites attract” is done properly, especially here!

Bluetooth (Moon x Caine) would have been canon in this AU at one point in the past, but now The Moon and Caine are exes (y'all can have exes in fiction btw!). In the past, Caine and Moon dated (and at one point did the deed, *wink wink*), but after the Moon became too clingy and possessive, with a yandere attitude, Caine broke up with her, and Pomni would have helped both the Moon and Caine move on from the breakup, realizing what they had was not healthy. This “adventure”/off-screen episode would be mentioned here and there during the road trip (I want to assume the road trip is like a Season 3 thing, but the show's success might contradict this; oh, well) while Bubble and Caine try to take things slowly.

Hints of Gangle x Zooble (aptly named Google by the masses) can be found, but only in subtext. Zooble makes an in-passing comment on how they find Gangle's assertive voice to be hot at one point.

~~~~

This AU pays homage to… well… A LOT of things that I enjoy watching over the years. It takes a look back on the things I found nostalgic as a kid growing up in the late 2000s and early 2010’s, including things that might also be familiar to other older generations of Gen Z. My most recent fixations (such as Unikitty) can also be found there, including random YouTubers I used to watch all the time, horror movies I grew fond of, some cartoons I still watch, such as Steven Universe, The Loud House, Teen Titans Go of all shows, the DreamWorks and Disney movies I watched as a kid, the older Gen Z memes we're familiar with by now, other video games we used to play all the time, among many others. I also wanted to spice up the variety of the fandom with my own interpretations of the characters, as well as some neat ideas I wanted to share when I conceived them.

With that being said, I hope you enjoyed this summary of my brand new AU idea!

Welcome one and all to

The Amazing Digital Road Trip!

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beautifulpersonpeach · 8 months

Note

Hello! Reading your comment about Gr@mmys, I thought of something that makes my head spin.

Was it what happened with J!m!n and F@CE that got us out of the OT7 utopia “seven exact and equal slices of the pie” for each member? I expected to see differences, problems or competitions during this stage but I feel that F@CE was a before and after, at least for me. Now, I could yell at my "me" from the last concert in Bus@n, how naive and overly positive I was being.

I understand the factors that made this reality. I don't know the internal agreements between them and their company. For me Jungk00k's debut only shed more light on topic (he's not the villain of the story, blaming him is just easy way out) Family = seven = equal. Wasn't that the driven narrative? From my place I see how the members go out of their way to demonstrate healthy competition among themselves but the label does not accompany them with their actions/decisions. Actions that make me see company as inexperienced. Did they really have no way to avoid these conflicts? Shouldn't they take care of every detail of career of the artists they represent?

This has nothing to do with the decisions of each member. Some armys force too much -members decide everything- speech and frankly to me it feels like a re-victimization and the removal of responsibility from their representatives. Even if we look at this as a team it seems like someone isn't doing their part. May I disagree? I'm a different person. If everyone says that BH is a great company, I will tell them that it should be even better. The company where my father works has often not fulfilled its duties as an employer, but he will tell you that it's the best job, and I proceed to respect it. Just like that i feel

Whose responsibility is it really that everything has gotten to this point? From company and its silences, from fandom that allowed solo stans to grow, from everyone? Is it just the natural course of things?

There is something in this chapter that gives me the feeling of improvisation. Or was I just too used to everything being calculated and perfect in the B/T/S world?

If you had to give a prognosis for the next chapter, what would it be?

***

“Family = seven = equal. Wasn't that the driven narrative?”

No, actually.

Listen, I hear you and I get you completely. OT7 literally means love the members equally right? And that’s the agenda the company has been pushing and should show right? Well, not exactly. What I’m about to say is going to be very unpopular, but it’s genuinely what I think.

People have a very narrow idea of how many things can look, and when they run up against a reality that looks very different from how they expected it, many people don’t know how to deal with that very well. And oftentimes what happens is that they turn to vilifying whoever they think is responsible for preventing them from getting that imagined outcome. It never once crosses their minds that maybe they had the wrong assumptions to begin with. It’s always the thought of maybe someone is gaslighting them, rather than, you know, maybe they were just wrong. For that context and for that group’s actual goals.

There’s one post I wrote a long time ago that I think made me fairly popular with Jimin biases here, it’s the one where I talk about some of the ways Jimin contributed to BTS that might not seem obvious at first. I prefaced that post by saying many in the fandom underestimate Jimin not because they dislike him or anything, but because they have a narrow idea of what ‘meaningful contribution’ looks like for a group like BTS. All I did in that post was point out things that perhaps were not framed in the right way to show how much Jimin contributes to BTS that’s more than songwriting, producing, or others. It’s the same thinking in recognizing that while SeokJin isn’t the strongest dancer or vocalist, he’s served as the stable emotional support in the group, he serves as the key hinge in maintaining the uniformity in their choreography, and that without him in the group, the members would certainly clash very destructively. It’s not ‘equal contribution’ in the way a lot of people envision, but I think it’s perfect for BTS.

Granted all I’ve said so far is in terms of contributions, not rewards which is what you’re talking about. You’re saying the company should facilitate things so that each member is meant to get equal rewards each time. Well, that would be dandy and possible for the company. Maybe. But it’s also not weird, bad, nor does is spell sabotage for a company to allocate different resources and use different strategies after consulting with the members for their direct input, and to pursue asymmetrical results for BTS at certain times. The understanding is each member prioritized will vary in different years and eras. And I’m personally looking forward to all of it. Since July 2022, all the members have put forward a good first step with their debuts. Jungkook is the member getting a solid push now and I love that it’s him. I’m secretly hoping he tours a bit too, maybe solo or with vmin, and maybe/not go to the military before 2025. Who knows?

A lot of things didn’t work right for all the members' debuts. Jimin’s performance was impacted by far too many though, and many were issues the company simply needs to get their shit together on. Period. BTS makes a shit tonne of money for that company and the least they could do is go the extra mile and then some. I’m convinced HYBE already does this for BTS (recall how HYBE navigated extracting BTS from that Jamboree concert disaster, though public opinion was also on their side), but they could always do more. And I won’t stop anyone from saying that.

But for anyone who thinks what they’ve seen so far is Jungkook / BTS / HYBE betraying their trust or going back on their principles or whatever, I want to say that they’ve done no such thing. This time around your bias wasn’t prioritized the way you wanted. That’s it. Am I being naive and delusional by thinking the guys are literally taking turns for this kind of focus? Possibly. But I also know there’s a Pharrell collab somewhere in the vault. Rina Sawayama too (her Le Sserafim remix is really good. Please listen to it). And that the guys have very grand plans. All of them. They’re focused and driven and will always get what they ultimately want. Every member is like this. They've put too much skin in the game to walk away for less.

Or lol, maybe I'm just being a company stan. I just hope it's clear I'm not dismissing your concern or care for Jimin, Anon, it's that I disagree with your conclusion. But I know I'm in the minority here anyway.

“Whose responsibility is it really that everything has gotten to this point? “

The fandom, mostly. For reasons that are very obvious. Such as most of the fandom claiming they actually like the whole group and trust their bias, but rather kinda see the other members as background characters for their bias. Fandom is like a pressure cooker, so nobody ever really stays 'normal' if they move too far off-center - people who heavily biases a member in an unhealthy way will never remain an ARMY, for example, they’ll eventually break off into fringe parts; people who dislike a member, only grow to further hate the member. Neutral is rare.

If BigHit wanted to make another try for a Grammy this year, Seven would’ve likely been envisioned with all the members as a project to pursue, because a win for any of them is considered a win for the group. Especially considering the competition this year. And given BH already had a formula with the PET, they went with that same mediocre candy floss of a song that’s guaranteed to get the nomination chances, as in the past. Experience has taught the company Korean tracks will likely not be given fair consideration soon. So they went with Seven. Also, after that Billboard hit piece, Jimin’s chances with Like Crazy are close to zilch. If by some miracle he gets recognition, I hope he wins. But yeah, that debacle with Jimin is one in which the fandom (meaning his akgaes, biases, and the wider/whole fandom) bears some blame. But at the same time, Billboard has never been a friend to BTS and they were likely going to change the rules again anyway. And that’s something they can keep doing.

"If you had to give a prognosis for the next chapter, what would it be?"

I have no real idea, tbh. What I want more than anything, is for all seven of them to be able to continue putting out dope, interesting music that they take joy in. Seeing Bangtan have fun has extended my life by several years I'm sure. That's what I want for them in the prognosis. I'm sorry I'm taking your ask about a serious topic and going all sentimental on it Anon, but rather than chart placements that they don't really need to prove, I want BTS to still be comfortable making the music they want to make. More Arson, Dis-ease, All Day, Change Pt 2, Snooze, HUH?!, Amygdala, Like Crazy, SMF Pt 2, Rainy Days, Seven, The Astronaut.

I hope the people who remain in the fandom core are able to last and tough it out while the fandom regroups. Because even though there'll be chaos and the number of solos will likely triple, they won't ever leave. Nobody who comes in contact with BTS ever really moves on from them. They'll say they're taking breaks, calling it quits or whatever, but give them 6 months tops and they're back. I see it happen all the time. And it makes sense tbh. I mean, have you seen Jimin? After knowing someone like him exists, how can you just go back to your regular life pretending he's not real? Like his existence doesn't mandate you looking at him and caring for him and his art. At least, that's how Jimin makes me feel. And the other members to varying degrees.

If we disagree please don't send me follow-up asks on this topic. It likely won't be productive.

#bts #jimin #jikook #jungkook #yoongi #hoseok #seokjin #taehyung #namjoon #bts chapter 2 #bts army #bts fandom #army fandom #fandom behaviour #bang pd #bangtan

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balanceoflightanddark · 10 months

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"Azula overturned Zuko's banishment, not because he really cares about him, it's just in case Aang survived her lightningblast and she'd sadistically frame Zuko as a scapegoat and save her own ass from Ozai's wrath!"

So, a lightningblast is not an instant-kill move? If it still is, then this plan can only work if Azula had supernatural clairvoyance, precognition, ESP, and/or is a Jedi. Which I recall none of these things being revealed.

Zuko completely spilled the beans about Azula making the blast and that Aang survived. Two episodes later, at the boiling rock, oh look! Azula is perfectly fine!

Ah yes. The blackmail. People just loooove to frame Azula's whole "giving Zuko the credit for killing the Avatar" maneuver as some master plan that Tzeentch would be proud of in order to bring her brother to ruin. Thing is, she had no way of knowing that Aang would have any chance of survival.

Something that she herself brought up before:

See? She genuinely believed the Avatar was dead and that Zuko had nothing to worry about. The whole myth about bringing Zuko back just to use him for blackmail doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Even with the common misconception that Azula is power-hungry, why bring back and restore somebody's status when she could've just used the Dai Li back in the Earth Kingdom?

Bringing Zuko back honestly did more damage to her chances for the throne in the long run if that's what she was after...and to her as well.

Did Azula blackmail Zuko? Yes. But you also have to remember that she figured out that Zuko was withholding information from her. Here's a post by my dear friend @akiizayoi4869 which goes into detail, but the short gist of it was that both siblings are equally guilty of hurting each other with this mess. And trying to pin the blame squarely on Azula is an attempt to make Zuko look better than he actually was.

But to the second point. It is true that we didn't see what Ozai did when Zuko threw her under the bus (a rather dick move of him I might add since he didn't really gain anything from it). Thing is, I don't think Ozai would've hurt Azula if he still had some use for her. He'd probably scare the hell out of her and give her an ultimatum of killing Zuko or killing the Avatar to get back into his good graces. Since she failed in both, that could factor in his decision to abandon her during Sozin's Comet since she wasn't needed anymore.

Honestly, that potential scene is a huge missed opportunity. One, it actually gives Ozai more development and elaborates on the relationship between him and Azula. Two, it helps paint Azula in a more sympathetic light and clears up some of the ambiguity around her actions. And three, establish that between the two, Ozai is the more heinous one if he threatens to do the same thing to Azula that he did to Zuko. It certainly would give this line a bit more weight:

Thing is...Book 3 had a LOT of writing problems and shortchanging characters when it came to development. We didn't really get any time with anyone from the Royal Family not named Zuko outside of "The Beach" to humanize them too much. Some of the story decisions such as Azula's breakdown do feel a bit rushed. And we also missed out on storylines which could've developed her a bit more, like the arranged marriage subplot. So while her getting a scene like I mentioned would make a lot of sense in terms of character development, I'm not really surprised given what we've seen from Book 3.

#azula #princess azula #azula meta #azula deserved better #zuko #zuko meta #fire siblings #ozai #ozai's a+ parenting #atla #atla meta #anon ask #anon answered #ask me anything

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yankpop · 2 years

Text

Yandere Doyoung (NCT) - Bad Mistake

Summary: You once dated the infamous mafia leader Doyoung in order to bring him to justice. Now, he’s back and he wants it all back.

DISCLAIMER: This is a FICTION work only made for entertainment purposes so please don’t take any of this seriously. I do not support or encourage any type of abusive behaviour. Please, be 18+ to read this. Make sure to read the trigger warnings before you get started, but everything is yandere/dark and includes toxic behaviours.

All copyrights belong to @yankpop (aka me) so do not post/translate my works on any other platforms without my consent/knowledge.

Check more: Masterlist.

Female reader

WARNINGS: Non-con (intercourse) + Breeding kink; Kidnapping; Implied forced marriage/pregnancy

AN: This is really long, so it's more like a one-shot or a fic. Hope you guys enjoy this 💖

It’s already dark outside when you finally park the car in your street, the dim moon light lightening the street. November had already settled in with cold temperatures and shorter days.

Walking towards the house, you fumble in finding the keys inside your purse at the same time as you try to adjust your heavy jacket. It’s a struggle to open the door with your purse and the multiple grocery bags hanging from your arms, but you manage to finally open it and enter the small house, locking the door once again.

Dropping the keys and your purse in the counter next to the door, you make your way towards the kitchen.

“Did you really think you’d get away from me?” a somber voice erupts from the darkness of your living room, making you jump.

No.

Your grocery bags fall on the ground but you couldn’t care less. Terror blossoms inside you at hearing that familiar voice. You freeze, trying to figure out how to get out of the house and you mentally curse yourself for leaving the keys.

One of the lamps suddenly turns on, lightening the space. From the corner of your eyes, you notice a figure standing up from your couch and coming towards you.

You feel the urge to run, to fight but you know that he’s stronger and faster than you. How far could you get away, even if you tried?

The same thought seems to cross his mind. “Don’t even think about it. No use running now, I’ve already found you so let’s not make it worse for you, alright?” he warns you.

He comes inevitably closer, finally standing in front of you. Doyoung looks the same yet different at the same time. Maybe it’s because he holds a darker expression, a subtle anger hidden in the depths of his being.

Probably caused by your betrayal.

Your heart pounds heavily in your chest as you look at him scared. He doesn’t smile at you, studying you, like he is trying to remember all details about your face.

“I finally found you after 2 years. Doesn’t feel real yet, though.” he says, his hand elevating to softly touch your face. You flinch at the touch, his cold hand making you shiver.

“You were such a bag girl, weren’t you? A bitch, actually.” his voice adopts a hardness that he never used on you before. “It hurt me to find out that you deceived me, used me. I couldn’t even believe you could do such a thing.” his hand descends to your face, his fingers lightly caressing your cheek. The action is sweet but a twisted look starts settling in his face.

“Doyoung, I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” a harsh slap cuts you off and you raise your hand to touch your cheek, shocked by his action.

“Don’t look so surprised, that’s the least you deserve for betraying me like that.” he growls, livid with anger. His hand clenched tight and you shrink in fear that he may strike you again.

This is all your fault. You never wanted to date him in the first place, hell you didn’t even know who he was until you were approached by the police to infiltrate yourself in Doyoung’s life. He was part of the mafia, bossing one of their units that operated in the city you lived in.

Your job was simple, to become close with Doyoung and get the evidence that would allow the police to shut down their illegal business. In return, the police would drop all the charges against your brother, who happens to be a low life thief.

Things weren’t that simple as Doyoung quickly became too protective of you, always near you in an obsessive way. He acted like he owned you, always treating you like the most precious prize. Having him controlling your life was something that you obliged with, knowing it would make him trust you faster.

However, trust wasn’t a word that was in his vocabulary. Always looking over his shoulders, Doyoung never allowed anyone close to his laptop, the one containing all the files and documents regarding his criminal activity.

You, as his fiance, eventually had access to it, and without Doyoung’s knowledge you finally managed to get your hands on the proof you needed.

You delivered it to the police and a new life and identity were given to you for your own safety. What happened to Doyoung was something you left behind you, not caring enough to know that. Your brother was now free and so were you.

You moved on and started living your life normally once again, same as your brother, who had left you to live in a different country. That was 2 years ago and it seems like you’ve runned out of luck.

“To the bedroom. Now.” he orders you, his hand grabbing your arm and pulling you. You don’t even try to fight him, knowing it would only make him angrier.

He certainly had a temper sometimes, but had always been directed towards his man. Now, it seems like you’re not gonna receive the privilege you once had.

Once you reach the dark room, Doyoung pushes you against the wall.

“You’re never escaping me again, I won’t allow it.” he declares, his hand suddenly choking you. Not a gentle chokehold though, but instead a strong unpleasant squeeze that doesn’t allow you to breathe.

Your eyes widen at the lack of air, your hands trying to push Doyoung’s hand away but you’re not strong enough to do so. It only makes him darkly chuckle, his eyes glinting with malicious pleasure.

The hold on your throat gets impossibly tighter, making you gasp and not even a second later he harshly pushes you towards the bed, finally releasing your throat. You fall over the bed, tears burning in your eyes as your throat painfully burns as precious air fills your lungs.

“I admit I was incredibly naive to believe you in the first place. Always gave you too much freedom, didn’t I? All of my men told me that was my mistake and they were right, weren’t they. But I won’t repeat the same mistake twice.” Doyoung rambles, removing his balck expensive jacket and throwing it on the floor.

He doesn’t stop there, starting to unbutton his shirt and that’s when it hits you what he truly wants.

Despite being his fiancé, sex was off the table. Doyoung had always respected your wishes although it was evident how much he wanted you. You claimed no sex until marriage yet your real reason was that you didn’t want any type of physical relation since you were only on a undercover mission.

Your handler didn’t insist on this matter, saying that as a civilian you could choose whatever you wanted to do as long as in the end you got the smoking evidence, which you did.

Doyoung shoves the shirt off his body, his muscled torso coming in display. “I was too fucking lenient with you. Even Taeyong told me I should be more strict. Pff, you should see how he keeps his girl on a tight leash.” he comments, more to himself than to you. His hands start fumbling with his belt and that’s when it hits you that you can’t do this.

You just can’t.

Pushing yourself from the bed, you dash towards the door only to be caught by Doyoung. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back. He starts dragging you back to the bed as you scream for help. This time he throws you even harder on the bed, knocking the air out of you.

“Just shut up, you’re making things worse for you. No one is going to help you.”

He hurriedly removes the belt and grabs your hands, tying the leather belt around your hands behind your back, making it difficult for you to move when he rips off your jacket and shirt from your body.

You start yelling only to have a piece of tape glued to your mouth. He unceremoniously pulls down your winter skirt, his eyes greedily observing your legs.

One of his hands comes to grope your thigh, kneeling down to kiss it. You try lifting it in order to hit him with your knee, but he’s fast to dodge it. He chuckles at your failed attempt, reverting his attention to your neck.

“Just the tip, I promise.” Doyoung mutters as his lips kiss the soft skin of your neck. You vehemently shake your head, only to be ignored by him. Your whole body trembles with fear as his fingers drag themselves across your practically naked body until they reach your panties, promptly pulling them. The belt keeps digging into your wrists, but you still attempt to free yourself.

He quickly disposes of his pants and underwear, carelessly throwing them over his shoulder. The tape over your mouth makes it harder for you to scream but you still try, hoping your muffled pleas could convince him to stop him.

It doesn’t, only making Doyoung annoyed. His hand grabs your hair, violently pushing it backwards as you’re forced to make eye contact with him. “Stop acting like a brat! I’m trying to be nice here, okay? It’s just the tip, I already said that.” he snaps at you, his jaw clenched hard. It doesn’t make you feel better but your cries lower volume, expecting Doyoung to keep his word.

He notices your sudden calmness and a pleased smile curls his lips. Pressing a wet kiss on your temple, he talks. “See? Much better now so keep up the good behavior and I might reward you later.”

Doyoung diverts his attention towards his member, pulling it towards your opening. The feeling of his cock against your opening reignites your fear again, but you force yourself to stay quiet and keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him.

His cock pushes against your entrance, entering your pussy. Without a condom. The feeling isn’t pleasant for you unlike for Doyoung, who groans in delight. He buries his head on your shoulder, pressing a kiss on it.

The movement makes him bury a little more of himself inside and your eyes open wide as fear runs through your veins.

“Fuck, this is so good. You feel amazing, babe.” he moans, sucking a spot on your neck. You make a small noise, trying to indicate to him to remove it but he ignores you, instead slipping more of himself inside you. The burn of his stretch is uncomfortable and you scrunch your brows as your dried tears start leaking again.

A growl slips his lips as he roughly pushes the rest of his cock inside, eyes half-closed with pleasure. “Oh fuck, sorry, babe. You feel so good that I need to finish this.”

You struggle with the belt once again as he starts thrusting into you, his cock going too deep, bruising you inside. He grabs the back of your legs, forcing them to open further as he keeps slamming his length at a fast pace.

Sweat starts shining in his forehead as he keeps fucking you vigorously, making the whole bed shake. Having him inside you gives you a nauseating feeling, the brute force of his thrusts weaking both your body and pussy.

Your pussy begins feeling sore as a result of the continuous assault. Doyoung, on other hand, thrives as he fucks you full.

“Oh! Fuck, babe. I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Gonna fill you with my babies, gonna make sure you can’t escape me.”

He slams into you impossibly harder and you moan in pain, your insides aching immensely, not used to such an intense intrusion.

He keeps it up, leaving you to hope he ends this torture soon. A while after his movements become erratic, his breathing heavy and you realize he’s close.

A wave of terror fills you at the possibility of getting pregnant, but there’s nothing you can do to stop him.

“I’m so close, babe. I’m gonna make sure you’re knocked up after this. We’re gonna have so many kids together.” he groans heavily, his hips brutally jerking against yours as he chases his orgasm. With an animalistic groan and a few more thrusts, he finally stops.

Leaning towards you, he presses his forehead against your own, eyes closed and heavy breaths shaking his chest.

His cum leaks out of you as he pulls out, his fingers immediately pushing some of the white liquid back into your aching hole. Pulling away from you, he walks out of the room leaving you there. A few seconds later he returns with a wet towel that he presses on your face, carefully cleaning the sweat and tears.

The expression on his face almost looks remorseful as he takes in your broken expression. He cups your face with one hand, incentivizing to look at him, which you refuse to do.

“I didn’t mean to be so rough, I’m sorry. You know I had to do this, right? I can’t let you walk away from me again.”

He unties the belt and helps you stand, which you find hard to do given the uncomfortable ache between your legs, his sticky cum leaking. Doyoung hurriedly finds a few clothes in your wardrobe, throws them at you and tells you to dress them.

“And hurry up. I’m taking you back home.” he says, starting to dress himself back but keeping an attentive eye on you.

You tiredly sigh, obeying his order.

There is nothing else you can do to escape him.

Soft morning light bathes the spacious living room, giving you a feeling of comfort. The sun always brightens your mood, almost as if it gives you hope.

As you descend the last few steps of the stairs that lead to the living room, your ears are flooded with low squeals and laughter.

A small smile appears on your face when you see countless toys scattered on the floor, and in the center of the room, a small toddler who is joyfully playing with a doll. Your daughter.

“Mommy, mommy!” she happily exclaims, running towards you and hugging your legs. You let out a small laugh, running your fingers through her hair. As she looks up to you, you can’t stop admiring how beautiful she is.

She looks like a perfect mix between you and Doyoung.

“I wanted to play with you dolls but daddy told me to let you sleep.” she whines, a pout decorating her lips as she looks behind. You follow her look and meet Doyoung’s eyes as he offers you an open smile.

“Good morning, babe. Didn’t want to bother you, I know you’ve been extra tired lately” he apologies, he’s sitting on the beige couch holding your one year-old baby boy who sleeps peacefully in his father’s arms.

"It's okay, I couldn’t sleep much more.” you say, your eyes fixated on your baby. Your daughter grabs your hand and tries pulling you to the floor to play with her, only to be scolded by her dad.

“Not now, princess. We talked about this, you can’t bother your mom so often. Be a good girl and I’ll play with you later after work .” he quickly adds the last sentence, his face softening after the sad pout that appeared on her face. “Fine, daddy.”

You walk towards him, letting your daughter go back to her toys.

Sitting next to him, one of his arms wraps around your shoulders pushing you closer to him as he presses a kiss to your lips. You divert your eyes to the baby and touch his tiny cheek with a finger, glad that the baby is sleeping.

Doyoung’s eyes follow your movements, almost as if he’s trying to decipher your mood and you force yourself to keep a neutral expression.

You’ll never be actually happy with being back to him or to the house that has become a prison, but your kids make it worth it. Ever since you had your daughter, you have tried to compromise with Doyoung and in return, he is more lenient with you.

But freedom is something you’ll never get again, Doyoung has made sure of that.

The baby stirs up a bit and Doyoung is fast to rock his arms. Your motherly instincts jump into action and you stretch out your arms to take the baby but Doyoung stops you.

“It’s okay, I got this. Doctor told you to take it easy.” he explains, furrowing his eyebrows as his eyes lower to your barely noticeable bump.

Your hand involuntarily falls into your stomach, rubbing it as you nod. You were only 3 months along, but Doyoung forbade you from carrying any weight. He was always extra protective when you’re pregnant, but over the past 4 years you’ve gotten somewhat used to him. You try your best to compromise for the sake of your kids.

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess.” you give in, tiredly yawning.

You lean your head against Doyoung’s shoulder, feeling the warmth radiating from his body as you doze off, listening to your daughter playing.

Wondering how your life could've had been if you never met Doyoung.

TAGS:

@mwitsmejk

#@yankpop #yandere nct #yandere nct 127 #yandere doyoung #yandere doyoung x reader #yandere kpop #nct yandere

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sentientgolfball · 3 months

Text

Ghoulette Appreciation: Week 4

This week I chose elemental practice

Read here or on Ao3

Word Count: 1132

Pairing: Mistshine

Summary: Mist reflects on her conversation with Ifrit when she gets an unexpected visitor.

In and out.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

Every flutter of Mist’s gills releases a stream of bubbles that float up to the middle before popping. She’s been in the lake for a day, or was it two now? They didn’t count the minutes this time. The little chat with Ifrit didn’t go quite like she expected.

Actually, that’s not right. It went exactly as she expected. That’s why they’re sitting at the very bottom of the lake now. Ifrit had been so excited for Mist. Zephyr had to keep him calm so he didn’t scorch them. He made her start from the beginning when he noticed how troubled Mist looked. She told him everything, not willing to leave one detail out in case it affected his advice. Occasionally through her retelling, Zephyr and Ifrit would make eye contact and smile at each other. The third time they did it Mist called them out, confused as to what they were doing.

“Have I said something humorous?”

“No you haven’t I’m sorry it’s just…this is really cute” Ifrit had laughed out. More of a giggle really.

Zephyr then slapped his arm, though they were chuckling themselves.

“What he means to say is you’re in love Mist. It’s very obvious.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Mist” Ifrit started “It took me a year and a half to work up the courage to tell Zeph how I felt. Trust me, I know love when I see it.”

“That and we used to share a tour bus with Aether and Dew. It’s like second nature to be able to tell when a ghoul is pining now” Zephyr added.

“Love” Mist tried the word on her tongue.

It was after that conversation she dove into the lake. They were never one to run from problems, never one to sugarcoat, but she needed to this time. They needed to truly understand if this was what Ifrit said it was. They knew these things were delicate, that they took time. They were solitary, not an idiot.

What worried them the most was how different Sunshine was from them. She was aptly named for the way she could brighten any room she walked into or how warm she could be. She was energetic and friendly and affectionate. She was everything Mist wasn’t.

Mist was cold, preferring to be alone most of the time. They were aptly named too. They were called Mist because of the fog she could create. A fog so thick she was able to sneak up to Alpha and poison him with the barbs in her wrist. It was the first thing she did Topside, right out of the summoning circle. She was quiet and straightforward and rational.

Sunshine deserved something more from a mate than a cold predator.

Mist made her mind up in this underwater meditation. Once she truly determined this feeling deep in her chest was love, she was going to tell Sunshine right away so she could be rejected. So she could move on with her life. So she stopped feeling like she had no control over her own thoughts and feelings.

The idea sent a pained feeling through her. She shuddered knowing this was not helping the case they made up in their own head.

They were going to get up and swim around, stretch out their fins, but before they could they saw the flash of bioluminescence. They squinted up towards the source and quickly recognized Chain’s unique pattern. It wasn’t a hunting signal, no, he was trying to tell her something.

You’ve got a visitor.

Mist flashes a response back and starts swimming up to the surface. They breach the surface near the dock and search for Chain. What she sees instead is Sunshine sitting happily with her legs hanging off the dock.

“Mist! Hi! Hey! You got up here really fast.”

“Sunshine” Mist says with disbelief in her voice “what are you doing out here?”

“I was looking for you. I had something to ask.”

Every bioluminescent dot on her body lights up at once as her fins flare under the water. She keeps her expression as neutral as she can, waiting for Sunny to elaborate. Her stomach twists.

“Will you teach me how to use water?”

Mist’s gills flare letting out a sigh of relief under the surface.

“If you truly wish, of course, but may I ask why? You excel with fire and air.”

Sunny hesitates, almost looking surprised as the tip of her tail flicks in the water.

“I don’t know. I’ve been really bored without everyone around. I figured if I’m gonna do something, at least I can be productive with it.”

“That’s…very practical of you Sunshine.”

She grins “So you’ll teach me?”

“Gladly. What do you know about water magick?”

“Uhhhh…nothing?”

“Nothing?” Mist blinks.

Sunshine nods, chewing her lip.

“Did Rain show you anything?”

She shakes her head.

“Swiss?”

She shakes her head.

“Dewdrop?”

“I mean, he showed me some cool fire tricks.”

“I see. I’ll have a word with them when they return. In the meantime, I’ll show you your first lesson.”

“Oh! Okay! I didn’t expect to start right away but—“

Sunny is cut off as she springs up in the water. They grab her wrist and yank her into the lake. Sunny yelps when the cool water hits her.

“What was that?” She sputters and laughs, coughing up water.

“Lesson one, being one with the element you wish to invoke.”

The two spent the rest of the afternoon splashing around the lake. Mist claimed it was for learning purposes, but Sunny wasn’t convinced. Sunshine didn’t complain, though. She couldn’t think of another time she’d seen Mist smile so much. She would live in this lake if it meant Mist would keep doing it.

Eventually, though, the fire in her got tired. She crawled up and rested on the shore, sighing as she laid on the sun-warmed rocks. Mist followed as well, sliding up to sit next to her. They stayed like that, happily sitting in silence watching the little waves of the lake. Sunny finally stood when she felt the exhaustion settle into her bones. Mist stood up after her.

“You don’t have to follow me back. I know you’ve been hanging out here for the past couple of days.”

“I know” she simply replied.

Sunny just smiled and laced her fingers with theirs. They walked back to the Ministry hand in hand, Sunshine filled the silence with whatever burning thoughts she had. Mist listened with rapt attention, nodding every so often.

It was strange really. Normally physical touch made her skin crawl. She tended to avoid it unless she initiated it. Ifrit was truly the only one they felt comfortable enough allowing to touch first.

Or at least, that’s what they thought.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #mist ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #mistshine #ghoulette appreciation #ghoulette appreciation weeks 2024 #nameless ghoulettes #golfball writes

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karin-gespenst · 4 months

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CtM CS 2023 first rewatch and further thoughts

early foreshadowing for Mr. Sharma: he says "I can find my own way." he's clearly referring to his navigator skills.

Angela's teacher promised her "house points" for making the scrap book. Can somebody tell me if "house points" is a common thing for teachers to use? I've only encountered the term in fiction books.

Fred calling Angela treacle was very sweet. Now that I think about it, Fred probably sees more of the Turner children than of his own grandchildren, or Violet's. He always organising something for the kids in the neighbourhood, from running the cubs to joining the bus ride to see the Christmas lights and sending his paper boys to the clinic for working children, and now he's the lollipop man. Good on him!

Tim passing his driving test reminded me of the giant bills I've been paying in the last few months for my kid going to driving school. And then I noticed that Shelagh still does not drive. Chummy learned and Sister Winifred and I'm sure by now Delia has taught Patsy as well. On the other hand, Patrick is always using the car, Shelagh would have to get her own vehicle if she wants to drive.

Meanwhile, Miss Higgins is aquiring new premises for the clinic, and shows her best no-nonsense attitude while the badminton match is going on behind her. It's hilarious.

Sister Monica Joan is not impressed by Apollo

her complaint about Patrick is exquisite: "Can you not remove this man? He seems to be pleading the case for eternal life."

Trixie in her hostess gown! Opinions? I like the gown better than her new hairdo.

Matthew cooking a festive dinner for them - good on him!

Geoffrey! So much to unpack there, he'll get his own post. What's his profession again? something with the expat community in Malta?

Brenda and Toni together in the maternity home, being honest but kind and sharing their fears, that is just beautiful. Having family around is lovely, but the kind of support and understanding that young mothers can give each other is really one of a kind.

Mr. Sharma in the hospital deserved more real attention instead of just well-meaning words from the staff, so they could maybe have lessened his fear and avoided his running off out through the snow without understanding why he's feeling so unwell. Without Cyril's patient kindness and the respectful trust he established this could have gone much worse.

Filming in the ambulance must have been exhausting. Birth scenes are always strenuous, but with three or four adults and several babies in the cramped space, I don't fancy being the cameraperson. The only other mother in labour who had Patrick sitting behind her as support was Shelagh, so Brenda is expertly looked after at this point.

What kind of care did the specialist give to Brenda during her pregnancy? apart from that one palpation he's just parading around and celebrating what he sees as his own achievments, when the development of fertility drugs is a joint effort of many people and the mothers are bearing most of the actual load.

I've noticed Nancy is more comfortable now reassuring mothers who share some of her experiences. Having a safe space to live together with Colette has given her calm and happiness.

I've had a two-hour-drive today in the dark and I did not like it. Phyllis driving home in pain through the snow makes me want to reach through the screen and pick up her car like a toy and place it safely in front on Nonnatus house. Glad to see her snapping many, many photos at the Christmas party.

Tim at the church organ made me smile. The entire scene is magical, brimming with detail, and everyone playing their parts proudly. Apart from maybe baby Mark, who was not quite aware of the backstory.

#call the midwife #call the midwife spoilers

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lynzishell · 9 months

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Phoenix: G’morning gorgeous Greta: Mmmm…. Morning Phoenix: How are you feeling? Greta: Good, cozy Phoenix: Me too

Greta: It’s our last day. What should we do? Phoenix: Hmmm… stay in bed all day? Greta: That sounds lovely. Just one problem. Phoenix: What? Greta: I have to pee!

Greta jumps up from bed and runs to the bathroom while Phoenix groans and sits up. When Greta returns from the bathroom, she joins Phoenix back on the bed.

Phoenix: Better? Greta: Much! Phoenix: Good good. Alright, so what is it? What do you want to do today? Greta: I think we should go for a walk. They have a bunch of trails around here, and it’d be nice to get out for some fresh air. What do you think? Phoenix: I think a walk sounds great. Do you want to go just the two of us, or should we invite everyone? Greta: Is anyone else even awake yet? Phoenix: I have no idea. Greta: Hmm… Let’s sneak out and explore just the two of us. Phoenix: Perfect.

Stopping at the shrine, Phoenix grows quiet as he takes in his surroundings.

Greta cuddles up next to him, taking his hand. Greta: What are you thinking about? Phoenix looks over at her with a small smile, then looks back taking a deep breath. Phoenix: My mom. She would’ve really loved it here. She would’ve loved you too.

Greta: What was she like? Phoenix: She was kind and funny. And creative. She used to love telling stories. I think she dreamed of writing children’s books, but being a single mom and working multiple jobs… you know… When I was a kid and I couldn’t sleep she would make up elaborate stories, like so detailed. I would close my eyes to picture it and would fall right to sleep. Every time. Greta: Aw, I love that. She sounds like a really great mom. Phoenix: She was. Greta: How did she -- ?

Phoenix sighs and walks over to the steps, sitting down.

Greta walks over to join him.

Greta: I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Phoenix: No, it’s okay. Um, she was hit… by a car… while she was walking to work one morning. Guy ran a red light, going too fast, not paying attention, I don’t know. He just… (stopping to wipe a tear from his eye) ahh… and then she was gone. Just like that. I still can’t make sense of it. Greta: Ohh Phoenix, I’m so sorry. That’s awful. Phoenix: Yeah. Grief grips at his throat, threatening to choke the life out of him… or so it feels. Emotion starts to well up in him, too intense for him to continue sitting. He gets up and starts walking away, pacing, trying to collect himself.

Greta follows him and pulls him to her, wrapping her arms around him. Greta: It’s okay. Phoenix hugs her back, finally allowing the grief to wash over him, he begins to sob. Unsure what else to do, he buries his face in her shoulder and just lets it happen. They stand there for a while, holding each other, before Phoenix finally steps back, wiping his eyes. Phoenix: Ah fuck, I’m sorry. Greta: No, don’t be. Hey. I’m here okay. Anytime you need, I’m here.

He hugs her tight for a moment longer. Phoenix: Thank you.

Greta reaches up to kiss him. He kisses her back softly, wishing he could stay in this snowy paradise forever. He sighs, knowing they can’t. Phoenix: We should probably head back and get packed. Our bus will be here in a couple hours. And I can’t feel my feet. Greta: (laughs) You’re gonna need some actual hiking boots. Phoenix: Yeah, I guess so.

They head back to the house. Phoenix feels lighter than he has in months.

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#ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 gameplay #sims 4 gameplay #ts4 challenge #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #phoenix realta #greta laurent #tw death mention

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