#I hate drawing hats but sometimes you have to make sacrifices like that

[a-gay-little-cat]

(This drawing got way out of hand but. I'm attaching it to the OC interview anyways!!!! Thank you for tagging me @mail-me-a-snail!!!!) OC interview thingy under the read more :]

Name?

“Vito.” Nothing special or out of the ordinary here really. Though he doesn’t like giving people his surname. Scan him for it if you are so nosy.

Nickname?

“The Red Scorpion.” "...." “That’s a joke, it’s V.” His name is short enough to not warrant a nickname really but V is what he likes to use for business related stuff, keep it formal, keep it anonymous. Though I do think Red Scorpion is the name for his bike. And also the symbol he wears on his vest. He just really likes scorpions and any other desert critter.

Gender?

“Male.”

Vito is trans, has been for a good chunk of his life and he couldn’t be happier with it.

Star sign?

“Scorpio, much to my delight. No idea what it means though. Don’t really care for that kind of stuff.” Fun fact I was so close to making the joke of having Vito be born on the day the Arasaka Towers got blown up but then his age wouldn’t have aligned quite right. He’d have to be 53 during the main story but… still a joke in the back of my mind, might adjust it JUST to be funny, maybe not.

Height?

“Last I checked it was 5’8.”

It’s a pretty good height all things considered. He might appear a bit taller though thanks to the bit of heel on his boots as well as his hat he wears most of the time. He has no complaints about his height though.

Orientation?

“Whoever strikes my fancy.”

Vito is bi and doesn’t really have a preference. Just kinda lets himself be taken wherever his heart desires. (Sometimes that can be horrible ex-corpo men who have something really wrong with them. Shoutout to Lucian. What is wrong with him.) Though he usually doesn’t look for more than a fling. Not actively looking to date or find anything long term. (Lucian was kind of an unexpected case.)

Nationality/ethnicity?

“Born and raised in Mexico. Lived there a good while too.”

His parents likely still live there, he wouldn’t really know. Cut ties a long time ago and has kinda moved from city to city looking to follow his ambitions.

Favorite fruit?

“Hm… don’t have fruit a lot these days but peaches have always been my favorite.”

I can only imagine fruit is just kind of rare to come by, if not expensive. Vito’s never had a lot of money to his name all things considered.

Favorite season?

“Fall. It’s just right.”

Listen he may be used to hot climates but all that leather is probably a nightmare during the summer. And no he will not sacrifice his looks.

Favorite flower?

“Flowers? In this year and age?” He doesn’t know shit about flowers. He might like ones that bloom on cacti but… it’s not really his scene.

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

“You can’t go wrong with a nice tea.” He’ll always pick tea over anything else. Coffee is… okay. But he doesn’t get the appeal. Vito especially likes any sort of red/fruity tea but he’ll give anything a try at least once.

Average hours of sleep?

“4…. 5… depends.”

And that’s on a good day. Especially in the height of everything with the relic he is lucky to get one or two hours of sleep. Pain is one hell of a bitch keeping him up. Very hard to get comfortable at all. But once that’s all over and he’s settled down it’ll probably end up closer to an average of 8 hours, at least.

Dog or cat person?

“Reptiles.” “...” “But if I have to pick? Cats.”

Vito isn’t one to really care for pets. He doesn’t hate them and will pet a dog or a cat if someone he knows owns one but that's about it. Doesn’t really need a pet of his own.

Dream trip?

“Not really looking to travel.”

As a guy who has moved from place to place, Vito doesn’t really… plan for trips. Most of his traveling was out of necessity and not because he was looking for a vacation spot. Somewhere outside of NC could be nice but he just doesn’t really think about it. Busy with other stuff. Also he would want to travel with Lucian and well……. who knows how that would go down.

Favorite fictional character?

“Pardon?”

Vito reads a lot but he’s not like… crazy about the characters or even really involved, it's just to pass time and relax.

Number of blankets you sleep with?

“.....2.”

He gets cold in his sleep and it's a nice weight. One hell of a fight to get out of bed in the morning though.

Random fact?

Vito loves putting together little models of things if possible. Doesn’t always have the time for it but… it’s fun and relaxing :)

Don't really know who to tag but hey whoever wants to do this with their guys feel free to go ahead!

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #male v #putting it in the tags bc look at him #vito really isnt the most talkative guy all things considered #künstlerischer kuchen #vito #my ocs #i do wanna do this with tiger also but grr grrr i must draw smth first #and then get lost in drawing #i'd probably have an easier time writing these down for tiger since hes been established longer but. i wanted to talk abt vito. #BTW lucian is kings guy. just so we are clear #king being gr-74 on ye ol tumblr

[artistfromspace]

Lore drop!! I saw the stream clip and somewhere deep in the colour-memory of my brain the gears clicked into place and I had to do something to celebrate.

#fahc #fahc rimmy tim #rimmy tim #fahc fanart #ah #Achievement Hunter #rt #Rooster Teeth #fan art #fanart #nonbinary #nb flag #art #my art #I hate drawing hats but sometimes you have to make sacrifices like that

[missdawnandherdusk]

Hufflepuff!Muggleborn Extensive Dating A Malfoy Headcanons:

Okay so this got very long very fast but I apologize for nothing.

So you’re pretty much terrified of getting your Hogwarts letter because you have no idea what magic is but now you’re a wizard???

You go anyway and see a blond little boy at Diagon Alley with his parents and his mother has the same list as your dad does

So maybe you follow the little boy around and pick out the things he does because he seems to know what he’s doing

Then you heard his father hiss “disgusting mud blood” your way and your face kinda falls because you thought maybe you found someone who could help and we’ll never mind

Your dad takes your hand and snaps at Lucius “what kind of example is that for your son? No, I’m not one of your lot but you shouldn’t take it out on my daughter!”

Draco peeks out from behind his fathers robes and looks at the tears in your eyes and maybe he does feel a little bad

You absolutely adore your wand

At the station a few older years can tell you’re new and very Muggle in your tshirt jeans and converse that they sort of adopt you one of them being Cedric

You’re not so scared anymore because it seems like maybe these people aren’t so bad

Some kid named Fred buys you a Chocolate Frog and his twin warns you about their sentience

You meet a few other first years and Hermione Granger whos also a muggle and you sort of lament about all of it. She’s super excited because there’s so much to learn and you start to adopt her perspective

You see the boy from Diagon Alley sneering and bullying other kids and you go up to him with the same fire in your eyes that you dad had and tell the boy off a-al-Muggle

He just laughs and scoffs but you don’t back down which scares him because everyone always backs down

Big brother Cedric comes over and tells Malfoy off for calling you a mudblood again and ushered you back to a compartment of other Hufflepuffs and someone explains to you the house system

“Well that’s kinda stupid,” you decide “why should we be separated based on what a magical hat thinks we might be?”

Cedric grins at you because you remind him of himself and stands clapping when you’re sorted into Hufflepuff

Momma Sprout helps you so much because she knows that her muggle born kiddos need the extra comfort and encouragement

You have Herbology with the Slytherins and that meant Draco Malfoy his name was rattling around your head since the Sorting Ceremony

You end up partners with him. You’re shy and quiet and he’s dismissive and snappy.

“Draco you shouldn’t—“ “Don’t tell me what to do! Filthy little mudblood.” You sit back and watch the Doxy bite him “well get help!” He demands “I thought you didn’t want a mudbloodas help,” you snap. He gives you a hopeless look and you administer the antidote and produce a Bandaid “stupid muggle bandage”

While he’s sulking you handle the Doxy properly and show him how it’s done without being snotty about it. Maybe you smirk at him when you catch him leaning in and watching closely

It’s not friendship but he doesn’t call you mudblood anymore so... there’s that

Cedric nearly has a heart attack when he asks about your first day and you tell him about Draco

You find your footing at Hogwarts and though you’re not the best in class you can still do magic and it’s SO FRICKIN COOL MOM I MADE A FEATHER FLOAT TODAY

You chat with Draco thoughout the year in class well you talk to him he doesn’t say much. “And my mom was so proud when I told her about the Goblin wars and my dad wants to see me leviosa a feather but I told him I can’t do magic outside of school...”

Then there’s a quiet “your parents are proud of you? And interested in all this stuff?”

You look at him, mystified and “...yes? They’re proud of whatever I do,” Draco looks down and continues to sketch the bowtruckle which is almost life like on how accurate it is

You write to your parents immediately asking them to send a letter to Draco and tell them all about his really good drawings in Herbology

It takes a few days but one morning Draco comes up to you in the Great Hall with a parcel

“I think this is yours, your stupid owl gave it to me” he sulks. “It has your name on it,” you point out. “But why would your parents...?” You shrug and go back to talking to your friends and reading your own letter from your mother. Draco huffs and mutters something under his breath and walks away

In Herbology he has a new set of very Muggle graphite pencils and a proper sketchbook and he’s just sketching the Mandrakes on the desk when you come in. He doesn’t say anything and neither do you. He’s less irritable now

It’s second year and you hug your parents and go say hi to your friends before finding a compartment for the long journey. You swap muggle candy for magic candy with your friends

Draco passes your compartment and you wave. He gives a half smile and keeps walking.

“You like him!” Your friends exclaim. “What? No! I don’t!” You turn very red. “He’s just a friend!!” No one is convinced

This year you have potions with Draco and you’re freaking out inside because you don’t know what you’re doing and Snape seems to have it out for you and you’re just a mess.

Draco volunteers to be your partner “to show this mudblood a little decorum and how things are properly done.” He scoffs

You look down, embarrassed but as soon as Draco is next to you, you hear a quiet apology.

You understand the charade he has to put on but you wished he didn’t and you really wish he’d stop calling you mudblood it was rather annoying

He helps you through potions like you helped him through Herbology. This year you have Herbology with the Ravenclaws and he has it with the Gryffindors. He totally whines to you all the time about Harry

Once he’s complaining and accidentally puts in the wrong ingredient and the entire thing threatens to explode. Before you know it, you’re on the ground under Draco who pulled you and the remnants of the potion is shielded from you because Dracos robes are draped over you

Snape scolds you for being stupid and you start to protest but Draco confesses that it was him mistake, not yours. Snape just eyes the pair of you and walks off.

“Thank you,” you stammer out. He rolls his eyes but there’s a soft smile on his face.

Boy does Draco flip out when he hears about the Chamber of Secrets because you’re in potential danger and he would willingly sacrifice Granger to keep you safe

He mentions that to you in Potions one day and you gap at him. “Draco killing anyone for any reason isn’t right.” You scold. There’s a cold look in his eyes and a fire in yours. “But... thank you... for worrying about me,”

Your friends still pester you because they can obviously see you like Draco and maybe you do... but you know he doesn’t like you so you’ll just ignore your feelings

Third year comes and your heart skips a beat when you see Draco because he grew a lot over the summer and his hair is no longer ridiculously slicked back and oh Merlin you’re in trouble

Unbeknownst to you Dracos heart flutters when he sees you and has to fight the urge to wave or say hi to you in front of his father.

This year you have History of Magic together

He sits down next to you without a second thought. You smile and say hi and ask about his summer and then he returns the question. Your muggle summer and his magic summer are both a bit lost on the other

“Didn’t you wear glasses?” He asks one day. “Oh, my mom let me get contacts,” “contacts?” “Um... like plasticy little doodads that go in my eyes and help me see?” He just stares and you laugh. “Too Muggle?” You ask. “Too Muggle,” he replies.

Now it’s a sort of game. Youll come in with something Muggle—Pens, notebooks, lined paper, Muggle books, a watch—and Draco decides whether it’s “too Muggle” or not for him. He quite likes pens and lined paper but you can keep your Muggle books

You tell your parents again and Draco gets a package filled with green notebooks and black pens and a pencil pouch with a snake on it.

You hear about the Buckbeak incident and you rush off to find Draco. He’s in the infirmary snapping at Pomfrey but softens when he sees you

“She’s just trying to help,” you scold softly. “Are you alright?” “Doesn’t hurts much anymore but it’s numb so...”

Pomfrey wants to keep him a few hours to make sure that his body is reacting to the medicine correctly and you stay with him.

“You know I’ve been thinking,” you start. “That’s scary,” he mutters. You hit him playfully and notice that he flinches so hard you note it and continue “I’ve been thinking that it really doesn’t make sense for you to call me a mudblood,” “and why not?” He snaps. “Well, I mean... I’m technically all muggle. If anyone was really a mudblood wouldn’t it be halfbloods? With a muggle and wizard parent?”

He doesn’t have an answer to that. So he sulks quietly. “Why doesn’t it bother you that I call you that?” He asks quietly. You shrug. “Sometimes I wonder if I really belong here. Your adamant hatred for me is comforting. Like I’m doing something right enough to make you upset about it.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that either. He didn’t know that you were insecure about being a wizard. Of course, you belonged here you were wonderful with magic and your hexes were remarkable.

“I don’t hate you,” he mumbled. “Sure you’re annoying with your cheery disposition and your... Converse trainers... but I don’t hate you.” You laugh and he thinks it’s a wonderful sound

“Well, I don’t hate you either,” you smile back. You don’t think it’s something but it’s definitely not nothing

You hear about what happens between he and Hermione and you’re furious because he’s better than that and you can’t believe he would still call her a mudblood

You refuse to talk to him for a few days. Which is hard because he tries to make small talk with you.

One day in class he slips you a folded piece of parchment and you open it. Begrudgingly. “Im sorry, I was an arse. I shouldn’t have called her that.” You take your pen and scribble quickly “you’re apologizing to the wrong person.” And slide it back to him

Draco did apologize to Hermione before he apologized to you and he’s frustrated because he thinks you’ll think he’s lying if he said he already did

Then Hermione finds you in the hall that day and asks if you put Draco up to apologizing to her and you admit yes you did. And she tells you that he apologized a few days ago. Your heart soars and you hug a confused Hermione before running off to find Draco

He’s in the corner of the library, not reading, but drawing. You accidentally sneak up behind him and see that you’re the sketch on his paper.

“I don’t think my hair is quite that long,” you whisper softly and the boy about jumps out of his skin. You apologize quickly and he quickly covers his sketch book, red faced.

“I um. That wasn’t you.” He stammers turning a darker shade of red. You laugh. “Yes it was!” You reach for his sketchbook but he hugs it to his chest. “Oh come on Draco? What am I gonna do? Laugh?” “You’re laughing right now.” He points out. “And it’s not that good anyway...”

You roll your eyes and sit next to him. You offer to pose for him so that he could take his time to draw you. “Well I’m not busy now,” you grin and he sulks a moment before nodding.

You watch his hands work and sift through the pencils as he props the paper up on his knees and instructs you to look somewhere and not to move.

It’s odd, being drawn. You close your eyes and hum softly knowing he was studying you the way he might a bowtruckle or mandrake and it feels weird. A good weird.

He refuses to let you see the drawing even though you persist. You pout and drop the matter, just glad to have a friend in him.

You begin meeting in the library on a weekly basis, partly so he can draw you partly because you’re both struggling in History of Magic and need more study time

Cedric is not happy about any of this and goes very “protective big brother” on you. You tell him off and huff.

You start going to his quidditch matches and maybe he almost runs into a goal post because you smiled and waved at him and he forgot to pay attention

The summer comes and you wave goodbye knowing as soon as he’s around your father you’re going to lose your fried.

But he surprises you and hands you his sketchbook on the train home then quickly runs away to his father and you just stare at it and him and he’s gone, all you see is two heads of silver blond hair receding in the distance

Your parents usher you into the car and it’s maybe two hours before you get to look at the sketchbook

When you do open it you see a sketch of a bowtruckle and “Steve” written one his careful script underneath. You had forgotten that you named the bowtruckle Steve that day in class

The next few sketches are from Herbology. And little notes about class that day, a lot of them are about you. Then there’s a break in Herbology drawings and there’s a drawing of his mother almost perfectly. Then of a family portrait of the three of them. A few vases of flowers. Then you see your face. And again. And again. It’s you. Smiling, laughing, concentrating on a book, raising an eyebrow at him, gnawing in your lip, asleep in class, then the library drawings that are much more detailed.

Then you’re crying and you want to call him and thank him but you CANT BECAUSE HE DOESNT HAVE A PHONE STUPID WIZARD FAMILY

But you do have an owl. You have no idea what to write. So you go with “thank you” and then send it.

You get a letter a few months later and it’s from Draco. He’s asking if you want to go to the Quidditch World Cup with him. “I know you’re Muggle and don’t like Quidditch much but...”

So you’re going with Draco and it’s weird because he’s on your doorstep with his mother and it is just a clash of worlds. You stammer goodbyes to your parents and you’re quickly ushered into the limo of a car next to Draco. You notice he’s changed his hair again and he looks quite dashing in his blazer. You get a little self conscious about your jeans and sweater.

Narcissa is a doll. She asks you about your summer and time as Hogwarts and keeps polite conversation and you thaw a little.

Though you have no idea what’s going on Draco is very excited about the game and is cheering and you can’t help but smile and maybe you take pictures with a Polaroid camera and he just rolls his eyes and you get a picture of him rolling his eyes

Fourth year comes and he is ushered away from you by his friends before he can say hi.

The kids from the other schools show up and you’re convinced that he like Fleur and he thinks you like Cedric and it’s just a mess

He’s back to being irritable and you’re slipping into depression not just because of him but everything is really weighing on you

You’re alone in the Astronomy Tower, your feet dangling off the edge. You had no intention to jump, but it was sort of thrilling. 

Draco flips the fluff out and nearly drags you from the edge. 

“What the hell are you thinking!?” He exclaims. You gape at him because it’s probably the first thing he said to you in a week. He’s just so scared that he was actually going to lose you that he pulls you close and doesn’t let you go. You start crying and everything just comes out in a word dump. Your brother is getting worse and stronger and it’s not good for you and he keeps putting you down and calling you a freak and that “no one is going to love me because I’m a freak and mom and dad think I’m fine because my grades are still fine but Draco I can’t... I’m slipping and... and I feel like I lost you and you were the only one who really believed in me and...” You’re just sobbing.

And he listens. He holds you and listens. 

“You haven’t lost me,” He whispers softly. “But you like Fleur... and I can’t ever be her... she’s just so perfect and powerful and...” You sniffle, hugging your knees looking at your beat up Converse. 

“She’s my cousin,” He almost laughs but doesn’t because of the look on your face. “And what about you and Cedric?” He raises an eyebrow and you blanch. “He’s like a big brother to me, gross,” You shove his arm and you’re both laughing. 

“There’s only one Hufflepuff out there for me,” He takes your hand and hello butterflies and blushing. “And there’s only one Slytherin for me,” You lay your head on his shoulder and watch the stars. 

You two start dating and Merlin his friends are livid because how dare he date a muggle hufflepuff? But then they watch him with you and it’s hard to deny that Draco is truly happy for once and they don’t want to take that from him

Your friends exchange bet money. 

Weekends filled with more games of “Too Muggle” and trips to Hogsmeade and Draco explaining wizard culture and you try to explain muggle culture but he just does not understand washing machines. You introduce him to muggle music and is thrilled that he loves ABBA. 

He makes everything hurt less. And it’s nice to feel wanted. 

Then Voldemort returns and everything changes and you weren’t ready for it. Draco gets cold and distant again and you try and try to get through to him but he doesn’t let you in. 

You end up screaming at him one night and walk out. He finds you curled up outside the Slytherin portrait, weeping not minutes later and carries you back inside to his dorm and apologizes and hold you and admits that he’s scared and he doesn’t want to lose you or see you get hurt

You both make an effort to find the sunshine in the proverbial dark times that linger through the next year. It means you become a but more calloused and jaded and he becomes a bit more optimistic and grateful. 

Pansy Parkinson doesn’t exist. It’s just you with Polyjuice potion to keep you safe from Draco’s aunt and Voldemort. It’s an easy charade to keep up. There are still quite nights when you’re yourself with Draco and he reminds you how much he adores the real you with his words and touch

If there’s one thing you don’t do, is break a Hufflepuff and that’s what Harry did after his sectumsempra and holy hell do you lose your cool.

Draco’s mother has to step in before you’re expelled for what you did to Harry

You nurse Draco back to health afterwards and never let Harry forget what he did, nor do you let anyone else forget it when they call him the chosen one

And Merlin does Draco love you for it

Draco can’t kill Dumbledore because your words are still in his head from second year “It’s not right to kill someone for any reason” and he just can’t disappoint you like that

You’re still kind. You’re kind to Luna when she’s locked up at the Malfoy Manor. You’re kind to the house-elves that attend to you. You’re kind, and value fairness and hardwork, but you will not put up with bullshit any longer. 

You and Draco stand with Hogwarts when the battle boils down to it. You give Draco your wand when he loses his to Harry.

When you go back eighth year, you advocate for the removal of the House System and write a very convincing argument against it. It takes about ten years, but the system is disbanded after one too many close calls and ruined lives

You also start a Support Group at Hogwarts for those suffering from mental illnesses and for those who have suffered abuse at home. 

You and Draco get married at the Manor. You wear your Converse. 

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Want to read a more in depth Hufflepuff!Reader x Draco? Find it Here!!!

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#draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x #hufflepuff #draco x hufflepuff!reader #slytherin x hufflepuff #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #slytherin #weasley twins #ron weasley #hermione granger #gryffindor #ravenclaw #hogwarts #harry potter #cedric diggory #the goblet of fire #the chamber of secrets #the order of the phoenix #the deathly hallows #the prisoner of azkaban #hp x reader #dumbledore #redeem draco malfoy #redeem slytherin #draco lucius malfoy

[babybluebex]

sugar pie, honey bunch [lee bodecker smut]

➽ pairing: lee bodecker x fem!reader(y/n) ➽ word count: 4.3k ➽ summary: lee gets tired of your secret rendezvous at work, so he comes to your house and does something about it.   ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. explicit language, smut, unprotected sex (pls wear a condom), daddy kink, degradation, infidelity by both parties, loss of virginity, mentions of anal sex ➽ a/n: if you know me irl no u don’t <3

It was quiet. Too quiet. I hated that. The silence let my thoughts run amok and that was never good for anybody, but least of all me. I had a tendency to overthink things, and quiet and still only amplified that. Knockemstiff, Ohio was the absolute worst place to live if you hated silence, because nothing happened in that little town. About twelve years ago, there had been a veteran who killed himself after his wife died, but that was the loudest thing that had ever happened to my little Knockemstiff. I should know; I worked as a secretary at the police station. I heard all of the gossip from around town. Earlier today, someone had been arrested for being drunk, which I think everyone in Knockemstiff could be in violation of. Every other day was quiet. It was hell. 

I could hear the crickets way out in the fields as I walked around the house. Those bugs served as my soundtrack as I found a box of matches and quietly slid a few into my mouth, and I padded through the house until I reached the front door. Knockemstiff was the sort of town where people didn’t use their front doors unless the Pope was showing up; it was all side doors and garages (if you were lucky enough to have one, which most of us didn’t). All that to say, I knew I could smoke by the front door and nobody would smell it. 

The night was hot. Oppressive and stifling, nearly suffocating. My skin was tacky against my nightshirt as I struck a match and lit a cigarette, and I leaned up against the side of the house. The moon was full, casting silver light onto my barren front yard and the dirt road that stretched exactly from one side of town to the other that ran in front of the house. It was a weird sort of beautiful. But quiet. Oh so quiet. 

Quiet, until I heard the far-off rumbling of a car. It wasn’t unheard of to get visitors in the night-- usually someone coming to ask me about the police station, because nobody had the balls or willpower to call our sheriff after hours-- but the noise drew closer at a snail’s pace. Whoever this was wasn’t in any hurry at all. Finally, a car rolled up in front of the house, the headlights off. There was a moment where I watched the car, then I sighed when the door wrenched open to reveal Lee Bodecker. The sheriff was a nice enough guy, maybe at the risk of being too nice sometimes and a total prick at others, but I was at a loss for why the hell he’d be here this late at night with his cruiser’s lights off. If it were an urgent police matter, he’d have his flashing lights on. 

“You shouldn’t do that,” Sheriff Bodecker told me, his voice carrying across the yard. 

“Do what?” I quipped. 

His boots brushed the porch as he climbed the steps up, and I caught his eye in the moonlight. “Smoking’s unbecoming of a young woman,” Bodecker told me pointedly. “Anyway, it’s a bad habit.” 

“You come to lecture me on smoking?” I asked. “I ain’t quite finished typing up that arrest report yet, if that’s what you’re after.” 

“No, no,” Bodecker said. “Nah, I ain’t here for that, sugar.” 

“Oh?” I said, crossing my arms. “And what are you here for?” 

“We’ll get to that soon enough,” Bodecker said. “Ain’t you gonna invite me in? It’s awful late.” 

“Exactly why I’m not gonna do that,” I said quickly, taking an exaggerated drag on my cigarette. “People talk, Lee. Blowjobs in the supply closet during lunch break are one thing; showing up to my house unannounced at half past midnight is something else. And I ain’t gonna be no Whore of Knockemstiff, ya hear me? Run along. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Invite me in, Y/N,” Bodecker said, tilting his head down to look me in the eyes. Bodecker was imposing: six feet tall and sturdy as a mule, even if his middle was getting a little soft. He had these steel-blue eyes that cut right to my core and gorgeous eyelashes, with puffy pink lips and a little cleft in his chin. Maybe if he were ten years younger, thirty pounds lighter, with one less marriage, I’d be into him properly, but that wasn’t the case. Our relationship was one of necessity (but aren’t they all?). His pretty little wife had stopped sucking his cock and he had a thing for my pink lipstick. It worked. That wasn’t to say that I didn’t enjoy our little trysts, because I definitely did, but something felt off about this certain encounter. He had never paid me a visit at home before. “Be a good little host for me.” 

I huffed and stamped out my cigarette. “Come in, won’t you?” I grumbled, throwing open the squeaky screen door. It felt off to have Lee in my house, but everything about us was off. I guess this was only normal. 

I flipped the light on and settled myself against the counter as Lee pulled off his tan sheriff’s hat. His hair was dark as pitch, shorn short on all sides but getting a little long at the top, and little wrinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes as he squinted at the pictures I had on the fridge. “And who’s this?” he asked, pressing his thumb into a picture. 

I looked at it and clenched my teeth. “Boyfriend,” I answered simply. 

“Oh?” Lee chuckled. “And where is he?” 

“Well, right now, he’s in ‘Nam,” I answered. “He enlisted, got sent over.” 

“And he didn’t propose before he left?” Lee asked, and I shook my head. “Hmm. Usually when men go to war, they make sure that they’ll have someone waiting for them when they get back.” 

“Why are you here?” I asked suddenly. “What do you want?” 

“The wife’s mad at me tonight,” Lee said. “She was drinking and started yellin’ at me. Said I was better gone.” 

“And you came here?” I said. “Why?” 

“Got nowhere else to go,” Lee shrugged. “And I figured that you’d welcome me.” 

“You couldn’t go to a bar?” I asked. 

“Not unless I wanted to run into my sister,” Lee said. “And I don’t feel like having a fucking lecture.” 

I sucked in air through my teeth. “Fine,” I finally said. “But you’re on the couch.” 

“Aw, c’mon, babe,” Lee groaned. He approached me at my place at the counter, and his arms went on either side of me, keeping me right where he wanted me. “It’s been a long day for me. You’re not really gonna make me sleep on no stinkin’ couch, are ya?”

“I sure am,” I told him. “‘Cause you’re sure as hell not sleeping in the bed.”

Lee tilted his head. “Not even a good night kiss?” he asked. 

“No,” I said. “This is an inconvenience for me. I got shit to do tomorrow and I need sleep.” 

“Which is why you were outside smoking,” Lee said. 

“Helps me calm down,” I snapped. “Lee. Let me go.” 

“You sure are a stupid little bitch, huh?” Lee sneered. “You really think I rolled up to your house just wanting a place to sleep? Honey, you shoulda been expecting more.” 

Lee regularly spoke to me like this, but it was usually while I was tying my hair back and kneeling down in front of him. “Don’t call me that,” I said. 

“It’s true, though, ain’t it?” Lee asked. “Just a dumb bitch, that’s all you are. You fuck a married man and try to act like you’re better than everyone else. And you don’t think everyone knows?”

My ego deflated in half a second. “Do they?” I asked shakily. 

“That’s why the wife kicked me out,” Lee said. “Someone told her I was fuckin’ you, and she got mad. Asked for a divorce and all.” 

“We’re not fucking, though,” I tried to counter. 

“Oh, so you’ll put my cock in your mouth and call it ‘convienience’, but you draw the line at calling that ‘fucking’?” Lee scoffed. “C’mon, sugar. The whole town already knows it.” I tried to keep my chin up, but I know that Lee saw my lip trembling. “Oh,” he chuckled. “Except the whole town doesn’t know, do they? Your little boyfriend goes to sacrifice himself for the betterment of our fuckin’ country, and you’re here, whoring yourself out for me? Is that why you don’t wanna fuck me proper? Saving your first time for that bitch-boy?” 

“I’m not a virgin,” I said, but Lee instantly saw through my lie. 

“Bullshit,” he said. “You know how I know? You suck cock like a high schooler.” Lee’s hand went to my waist, and he held me a tight, bruising grip. His hands were so much stronger than I had imagined, and an unfamiliar heat bloomed between my legs. My arousal wasn’t usually a part of the supply closet moments between us, and I had never really felt that before my boyfriend left. This was uncharted territory for me, and I hated that Lee seemed to instantly know that. “I bet you think about me every night, don’t you?” Lee asked. He leaned into me and pressed a kiss to my neck, and a shiver ran down my spine. “Don’t you?” He growled, taking my skin between his front teeth. 

“Fuck,” I hissed. “You’re a dick.”

“Answer me,” Lee snapped, smacking my ass hard enough to make me gasp in pain. “You think of me fucking you stupid every single goddamn night, don’t you? I can tell, with the way you eye me at the station. You’re not subtle, honey, not in the slightest.” 

“Lee,” I whimpered. “You’re hurting me.” 

“Good,” Lee huffed into my neck. He shoved his hips against mine with enough force for my waist to collide with my countertop, and I became well and truly stuck between Lee’s rock-hard cock and the counter. I knew what he was offering, and I couldn’t deny that the thought of his thick cock inside of me made butterflies erupt in my tummy. He kissed my neck, becoming more needy by the second, and he finally sank his teeth into my skin. “Gonna have to make up your mind, sugar, or I’ll do it for you.” 

I gulped down my anxiety, and I whispered, “Be gentle.” 

“That’s a good girl,” Lee chuckled. “Show me where that bed is, sugar. I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t remember your own goddamn name.” 

As soon as I pulled Lee into my bedroom, he had pushed me onto the bed and was kissing me hard. He bit my lips and sucked on my tongue, and he swallowed every pathetic moan I let out. God, I was pathetic. I was shaking, I wanted him so badly. Lee obviously knew that and had no problem with letting it go to his head, because he situated himself over me and gave me a wolfish smile. “You want me to undress you, sugar?” he asked. 

“I can do it,” I told him. 

Quickly, I rid myself of my nightshirt, and my skin tingled at the exposure to the air. Lee gave a gentle sigh, almost like one of relief, and dipped his head to my chest. He ran his tongue from the dip of my neck to between my breasts, and he latched his teeth onto one of my nipples with no warning. I nearly gave a shout of surprise, but I kept it contained. If this bit of foreplay was any indication, there would be enough time for shouting and crying later. 

“These…” Lee growled, grabbing at my breasts with rough hands. “Perfect fuckin’ tits, sugar, Jesus. Wanna come all over them. I just might have to.” 

Lee’s mouth went to my other breast, and one of his hands fluttered down from my chest to my waist, and even lower. Again, without so much as a censure, he pushed a finger past my folds and sunk himself knuckle-deep into my throbbing heat. My back arched against my will and I cried out at the amazing feel of it, and Lee laughed into my tits. “I’m only doin’ this ‘cause it’s your first time,” Lee told me, slowly dragging his finger in and out of me. It was a feeling like nothing I had ever experienced before, and I felt tears welling in my eyes. It was so fucking good. “If I had it my way, I’d already have my cock in you. Have you on your belly, fucking the hell outta you, watching myself fuck you so deep.”

“Please, Lee,” I sobbed. 

Through my watery gaze, I saw Lee smile against my chest. “Oh, what a good girl,” he moaned softly. “You’re my little fuck-toy, ain’t ya? Just fuckin’ desperate and begging for it. I guess it won’t take too long to fuck you absolutely stupid, will it?” I shook my head, and I jerked in surprise when his calloused finger drove itself into that spot inside of me. I called out his name; I was too far gone to care about the sick pleasure I knew it gave him. “Beg for it, sugar. Beg me to fuck you dumb.” 

“Please, Lee,” I whimpered. “Lee, fuck, please. I-I want you to fuck me so hard, please, babe.” 

Lee withdrew his fingers from me and sent a hard slap to my throbbing clit. This time, my gasp was one of genuine pain. “That ain’t what you call me and you fuckin’ know it,” he grunted. “Do it right or don’t do it at all.” 

I knew what he wanted, and I was too far gone to care. “Oh, Daddy, please,” I mewled, squirming, longing for his touch once more. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me ‘til I can’t walk. I want you so deep in my pussy, please.” 

“That’s more like it,” Lee whispered. Then, with a strength that I didn’t know that he possessed, he turned me onto my stomach and tugged my hips into the air. My arms shook as I tried to steady myself, and I felt my wet arousal drip down my thigh. As I tried to steady my breathing and remove the fog from my mind, I heard the sounds of Lee undoing his belt and shoving his pants down his thick thighs. His big hand captured a handful of my hair unexpectedly and he tugged me upright with only a small huff of exertion, and he bit my neck again. Lee Bodecker was an animal, and I liked it that way. 

One hand stayed in my hair as his other guided himself inside of me, and I nearly felt sick. The stretch was otherworldly and, dare I say, painful. Maybe the prep he had been doing wasn’t such a poor idea. But I had made my bed; now I had to lie in it. “Slow down,” I panted, feeling the tears return, and I writhed in his grip. “Fuck, Daddy, it hurts.” 

“I know it does,” Lee whispered, biting my ear. “But you asked for this. You asked for me to fuck you, and I’m gonna do just that. And ya know what? I think I’ll come in this pretty little cunt. What do you think of that?” I started to protest, but Lee shoved his fingers in my mouth, effectively shutting me the hell up. Even if I wanted to say something, I couldn’t. “Fill you up to the fuckin’ brim, have it drip outta you, it’ll be such a filthy thing to see. Your little boytoy comes home from the war and you’ve been letting an older, married guy stuff you full of cum? You think he’ll like that? Think he’ll wanna share?” Lee snapped his hips forward, fully burying himself inside of me, and I gave a wrecked sob around his fingers. I thought for sure that he would split me in two. 

Lee’s fingers dug into my hip as he started a steady rhythm. I truly had no idea how old he was-- I imagined probably late 30s or early 40s-- but he was fucking me hard and fast with the stamina of someone my age. Either he had a lot of expertise in the field or he truly had the fantasy of coming inside of me and was wanting to hurry the process along. The more I thought about it, I realized that I really knew nothing about Lee. Not his wife’s name or if he had kids; I didn’t even know that he had a sister until he had mentioned it earlier. However, something about not knowing was better than knowing. At least, this way, I could sort-of distance myself from the act. I was fucking the sheriff (or, technically, he was fucking me), but we weren’t an item. I was just his favorite toy. 

Lee suddenly wrenched my arms behind me and captured them against his chest, fully restraining me and leaving me pliable for him. With his fingers still in my mouth, I could hardly do anything but submit, but I liked that. I couldn’t tell if the throbbing in my pussy was pleasure borne from the way he was punishing my g-spot, or pain derived from his taut balls hitting my wet pussy every second. I had gotten my wish; there was to be no walking in the morning. I could feel spit gathering at the corners of my mouth, and I nearly choked on it, but Lee suddenly slowed down, molding his soft body against my back. “Fuck, honey, I’m gettin’ close,” he panted in my ear. “Now’s the time to tell me if you want me to come in ya or not.” 

His fingers left my mouth, and I tried to form any thought. Lee was the only thing in my head, though, and I could only whimper out his name. That was answer enough for him, because he released my arm and shoved me down onto the bed. His hand grasped the back of my neck and held me down as his hips pounded in and out of me, huffing and panting. I never could have imagined that the sound of that would have turned me on as much as it did, but my muscles tightened around his fat cock, and he laughed. “Aw,” he cooed. “Does the little cunt need to come? I’ll be honest, I forgot all about that. Wanna make a mess all over Daddy’s cock, don’t you?” 

I answered with a keening whine, but that didn’t seem to be enough for Lee. He smacked my ass hard, surely adding to the redness and bruising that I know already existed, and he fisted my hair tighter. “Answer me, bitch,” he growled. “Say it. Say ‘I wanna come on your cock, Daddy’.” 

“I wanna--” I started, and a shudder went down my body when I felt something warm and wet find home on my asshole. I was so far past the point of degradation, and my mind instantly went somewhere else. I had heard about that, sure, but I had never imagined that that could be something that I wanted. And yet, here I was, Lee’s spit coating my ass, mumbling out words that would send me to hell. “Fuck, Daddy. Can you fuck my ass?” 

“Oh, is that what you want?” Lee asked. “As tempting as that is, I’ll save that for another night. I’m not sure you’re a virgin, sugar, begging for it up the ass. But, fuck, it looks so good… I guess we have something to look forward to, huh?” 

Lee’s arm wound around my body and he instantly went to my poor clit. His fingers had tugged at it enough to make it tender to the touch, and he abused it as he fucked right into my g-spot. “Jesus Christ,” Lee whispered. “Squeezing the shit outta me. I’m serious, honey, let me know if you don’t want me to come in you. You’re about to not-- fuck, Y/N-- have a choice.” 

“I want it,” I told him. “I fuckin’ want it.” 

That seemed to be the final straw, because Lee sent one more hard fuck into me, and I felt his cock twitch before warmth spilled into my pussy. The squelching as he continued to fuck me through his orgasm was so loud that I was afraid that the whole of Knockemstiff would hear it, but I couldn’t make up my mind on whether I cared or not. Somewhere in the middle of that, Lee cussed and began to rub my belly, whispering sweet things to me that would have felt out of place only minutes before. I didn’t realize that I had come. I liked the feeling of it, though, especially with how sweet Lee was suddenly.

“Good girl,” Lee told me. He shushed me as I moaned and cried, my pleasure edging on pain, and he pushed my hair away from my neck and placed gentle, open-mouthed kisses on my throat. “So, so good for me, ain’t ya? So goddamn pretty when you’re coming all over my cock. I can’t tell you how much I dreamt of this…” 

My entire body trembled as Lee pulled out of me, and I collapsed onto my bed, panting and trying to form a coherent thought that wasn’t just the sheriff’s name. Only a few seconds passed before he was on me again, but it felt different this time. Lee moved the two of us under the blankets and rubbed my back, and he kissed my forehead gently. I nearly thought it was love. As my tears dried and feeling returned to my fingers and toes, I became aware that Lee was naked against me. As far as I knew, he hadn’t undressed as he had fucked me. His skin was so warm and it was comforting, and I nuzzled my head into his soft chest. My throat was so dry as I tried to swallow to form words, and Lee titled my face up in order for me to look him in those pretty blue eyes of his. 

“How’re ya feeling, sugar?” He asked, his voice as wrecked and raw as mine. “Feelin’ alright?”

“Sore,” I mumbled. “It hurts, Lee.” 

“I’m sorry, honey,” Lee whispered, and I knew that he was being honest. Lee was perhaps the biggest jerk in town, his elected title obviously inflating his ego more than it should have, but I never knew that he was capable of being sweet in this manner. “I was real rough with ya and I just shouldn’t have been. I feel plum awful ‘bout it.” 

“No,” I croaked, splaying my hands against his chest. Underneath the coarse hair, I could make out white marks on his skin, and I pressed my forehead against him. As I studied his body, I saw more and more of the marks, and it was only when I saw my hip against his that I connected the dots. Stretch marks. My Lee had stretch marks all over him, just like I did. “Please don’t. I woulda stopped you if it was too much. Thank you.”

Lee nodded and sighed into my messy hair. “You looked so beautiful,” he told me. “Any man that calls you his is a lucky fuckin’ bastard, I’ll tell you that much.” 

I couldn’t help myself. My lips pressed against my chest, and I took care to kiss every mark I laid my eyes on. “You’re…” I began. “You’re gorgeous, Lee.” 

“Nah, knock that shit off,” Lee chuckled. “I ain’t nothin’ compared to you, sugar.” 

“No, really,” I told him. “Those big blue eyes, your pink cheeks… Your fat fuckin’ cock--” I laughed at myself, and Lee kissed the top of my head. “You’re the most handsome man I ever met.”

“Even more than your soldier boyfriend?” Lee asked. 

“My soldier boyfriend’s like a twig, Lee,” I told him. “There’s nothing there for me. But you…” 

“I’m fuckin’ fat, s’what I am,” Lee said with a smile, but I saw the hurt in his eyes. “I’m old and I’m fat--”

“Alright, shut up,” I said. Suddenly, a different sort of desire burned in me, and I pushed Lee onto his back before I straddled his waist. “There ain’t nothing wrong with you, ya hear? You are fucking perfect, Lee.”

The insecurity flashed across his face, darkening his features for only a second. “But the marks--” 

I twisted my body to show him my hip and thigh. “I got ‘em too,” I said. “And don’t act like you didn’t see them, not for one second. And what did you do? You didn’t give a shit. I don’t either. They’re a part of you, and you are so sexy, Lee. I wanted to jump your bones from the moment I met you, and nothing ‘bout that’s changed and nothing’ll make it change. And ya know what? I’d reckon you’re stuck with me, so get used to it.” 

“Oh, I’m stuck with ya, am I?” Lee asked with a smile. He tugged me down to him, pressing his tongue into my mouth once more, and the ache between my legs was replaced with the now-familiar pleasing tingle. “And I get no say in it?” 

“I think you got your say when you wanted to fuck me up the ass,” I said, sinking my teeth into his plush bottom lip. “What a fuckin’ cliche we are, huh? The sheriff fuckin’ his secretary.” 

“When I first hired you,” Lee began, his warm hands traveling all over my body, and his fingers took special care to trace the white marks along my thighs, hips, tits, and ass. “My wife hated the idea. She said she was worried that late nights at the station would wreak havoc on me, and having a pretty little thing like you there with me was dangerous.” 

“Don’t go talkin’ ‘bout your wife,” I groaned. “That’s such a turn off, Lee.” 

“Oh, is it?” Sheriff Lee Bodecker laughed, stuffing his fingers back inside me, just like nothing had ever happened. “‘Cause you seem all wet for Daddy, just the same.” 

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker fanfic #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fanfiction #the devil all the time #tdatt #i am SO going to hell #but i had fun uwu

[penguinkinggames]

“Cerebos: The Crystal City” Actual Play Part III: The End

This is the third and final entry in a series of posts recounting a session of actual play from Cerebos: the Crystal City, currently crowdfunding on Kickstarter. The first two parts can be found here:

https://tumblr.penguinking.com/post/646498084013195264

https://tumblr.penguinking.com/post/646788426842128384

This session was conducted on March 20th, 2021, with Matthew Dorbin as GM, and Amelia Gorman, Ashley Flanagan, Will Mendoza, and Kevin Snow playing. The events of play were recorded by Zach Welhouse.

The First Leg of the journey has ended, and the Lady in Blue is the Seeker. She remembers her past: she was a small-time crook who left the City by the Sea to kill her murderous, thieving sister. Having pieced together her past, she has until arriving at Cerebos to decide if she still wants to kill the Lady in Red.

The Unqualified Robot, Tinderling, and the Lonesome Seafarer won’t find the answers they were looking for in Cerebos. However, they’ve ridden the rails with the Lady in Blue long enough they may have learned something else. Aiding her in her journey may clarify their own futures.

Tinderling and the Unqualified Robot hope the Lady in Blue will kill her sister. Actions have consequences and violence is sometimes necessary to restore balance. The Lonesome Seafarer has had enough pain. She hopes the Lady in Blue will be able to move on – or find common ground with the woman who did her wrong. 

Sixth Round of Train Actions

Tinderling notices an enormous marble building in the distance. From its Greek pillars and statues of Justice, it’s probably a courthouse. None of the travellers are on especially great terms with the law, but the train stops anyway. This journey isn’t just about them. There are other passengers too!   A trial is in session when the passengers arrive, and it requires four jurors. As outsiders, the travelers are unbiased. Wigged functionaries encourage them to attend the day’s arguments.   It’s the trial of Hodur, Norse god of winter and accidental murderer of Baldr. Baldr is testifying when the jury enters: “My death was absolutely necessary! My death was all part of a larger plan!” He cites Romulus & Remus, Osiris & Set, and other famous examples of fratricide. Sometimes a death is necessary for the greater good.

Tinderling’s player spends 1 Momentum to create a Danger 2 Stop as a Saintly Revelation. She doesn’t want to make the journey to Cerebos more difficult for anybody, but she does present the Lady in Blue with an argument to stay the course.

As with the previous Stop, the other travelers should have received a Train Action before arriving at the courthouse. The GM had been keeping an eye on the clock and made an executive decision to ensure the trains kept running on time. The whole session, including several snack breaks, fit into a four-hour session with only fifteen minutes of overflow!

Stop Actions: The Trial of Hodur

The Unqualified Robot has decided to Seize the Opportunity to divest itself of its past wares. It is defined by actions now, not junky gadgets. It offers gadget after gadget from its backpack to passing barristers, seeking some way to communicate. It rolls a Success and scores a giant foam finger with “FRATRICIDE” written on it. The new jury is fitting in with the trial, so the Danger reduces to 1.  

The Lonesome Seafarer waits for a lull in the trial and vaults out of the jury box to cross-examine Hodur: “Did you mean to kill Baldr?” She rolls 1 + 5 = 6, but spends a rank of Tunnel Vision to really focus on the heart of the matter and eliminate all obstacles. The rerolled 1 becomes a 5, netting the Lonesome Seafarer an Inspired Success -- and one Momentum to her authoritative hat for rolling doubles!   Hodur begins to weep under the incisive questioning: “I could never have done it if I had known! Even if I had to for a better future, I couldn’t kill my brother!” The Stop Danger is reduced to 0. Had Tinderling paid an extra Momentum while setting up the Stop, the Unqualified Robot or the Lonesome Seafarer would have received a keepsake for their efforts.  

Tinderling, disgusted by Hodur’s breakdown, starts carving something rude in the juror’s box with her bird bone sewing needle. She’s learning that she’s really into this justified violence thing. How come these people don’t understand progress is impossible without sacrifice? She rolls to Release the Touchstone – a symbol of peace – and succeeds.   The needle snaps. She burns with clarity and gains one Contemplation.  

The Lady in Blue isn’t in danger. She rests, shakes hands with a few visiting gods, and loads up on jury cookies. She removes one Momentum.

The court is in an uproar over Hodur’s outburst. The travelers aren’t interested in being further embroiled in someone else’s problems, so they sneak out back and return to the train.

Sixth Round of Train Actions (Continued)

The Lonesome Seafarer triggers a Revelation to counter Tinderling’s full-throated endorsement of fratricide. Two high-pitched voices begin shouting from the next car: “I hate you! I wish you weren’t my sister anymore!” The fight spills over into the travellers’ car as two six-year-old girls shove and cry into each other. It’s a Danger 2 Event demonstrating that just because siblings fight doesn’t mean they have to be enemies.  

The Unqualified Robot triggers its Saintly Revelation. Since leaving the courtroom, it has been busy building an effigy – a new sibling – from its unsold junk and extraneous body parts. If it can’t communicate with people, maybe something closer to its temperament will do the trick.   Calamity strikes! After a disagreement, the Robot and its twin begin to fight. Encouraged by the violence they’ve recently observed, it escalates. Presumably the twin was at fault. The Robot’s player explains, “I think the moral here is the danger siblings hold and how they must be destroyed.” The Robot Battle Event is Danger 5, threatening to strip the train to its bones. Luckily, Cerebos is in sight!

Since the Saints and Demons have introduced their Revelations, it’s time for the Endgame. Cerebos arrives! Its towering spires of crystal and neon illuminate the night. Squabbling siblings, a pair of robots engaged in an all-out hurly burly, and passengers who have begun to take sides pour from the train, attracting the attention of a number of station agents armed with stern frowns and truncheons.

Normally, the gates of Cerebos are a Danger 2 Stop, but the unresolved Events from the train boost it to a worrying Danger 4. 

Stop Actions: The Gates of Cerebos

Tinderling stands on a barrel and fans the flames of animosity, pulling unrelated passers-by into the fight: “Hey! This is what happens when you have an evil twin. Monsters are monsters and they don’t change!” She Causes Trouble to boost the Stop to Danger 6 and extend the scene. Everyone receives an extra cycle of Stop Actions.  

The Lonesome Seafarer also trusts her words to address the growing riot, arguing for peace. She draws on the harsh lessons she learned from Scurvy, her missing mate: “You have to give people a chance to change!” It’s like shouting into a storm. Fists and rocks fly as she takes Damage, her words unheeded.  

The Unqualified Robot briefly breaks free from its apocalyptic struggle with its evil twin. These… emotions are just holding it back. It tries to Release its last remaining expression slide, a smiley face defaced by angry eyebrows.   An Ugly Break. Communication is easy when it involves throwing things. It gains Momentum on its whiskey flask and gains Contemplation. It thanks Tinderling for introducing the path of rage.  

The Lady in Blue lays into the fray with elbows and right hooks, clearing people away from the Unqualified Robot. They’ve shared whiskey. Everyone just needs to stand back. She takes Damage and reduces the Danger to 4.  

Tinderling is taken aback at the chaos she has unleashed. It was all going so well, but the Unqualified Robot is taking a lot of hits. It’s burning too bright! She Seizes an Opportunity and starts laying into station police and onlookers alike. Even spending Burns at Both Ends to flare up like a hero, she takes Damage to reduce the Danger to 3.  

The Lonesome Seafarer pushes through the thinning crowd of combatants to the main event: robot vs. robot. She engages the evil twin with watertight logic and the Coat of Thesus Trait: “That robot is made out of your same parts! Why would you fight yourself? That’s not fratricide. That’s suicide!” After a string of unlucky rerolls, she ekes out a Partial Success, taking Damage while wrestling the Evil Twin off the Unqualified Robot. Danger 2.  

The Unqualified Robot scrambles back, throwing everything in reach at its evil twin: unsold junk, garbage, rocks. It’s not enough. The only way to end this is to carry its actions to their logical conclusion.   The Unqualified Robot tears off its head and flings it at the effigy.   The effigy, stunned by the extreme act of violence (and the high-velocity assault) explodes. Danger 1.  

The Lady in Blue needs a moment. Watching her travel companion tear off its head to kill its sibling is a lot. Battered passengers and station police slink off. A siren wails in the distance.   The Lady in Blue turns to the squabbling children from the train, who stayed focused on one another the whole time the battle raged around them. “Kids. Let’s talk. What happened?” she asks.   The sisters explain a very long, very important story that involves teasing and boysenberry (or possibly poisonberry) tea. It is ridiculous.   The Lady in Blue sighs long and deep. “It’s not like I’m not already headed to Hell. Try this, kids. This is what real poison tastes like.” She offers them each a sip of whiskey, transferring their animosity to her as they taste the rough, foul drink. Two-vs-one isn’t fair, but the Lady in Blue weathers their coughing and shin-kicking.   Failure. The Lady in Blue takes stress Damage and the round ends: “I solved a fight between two children and I feel terrible about it.”

Epilogue

Tinderling, the Lonesome Seafarer, and the Lady in Blue walk the backstreets of Cerebos. They don’t glisten with empyrean light like the main thoroughfares, but neither are they patrolled by gendarmes searching for whoever it was who started the brawl at the train station.

The Lady in Blue takes out her revolver, spins the cylinder, and stares down the barrel. She pops out the last bullet, sheathes her gun, and leaves her fellow travelers. She has chosen the Devil’s Path, deviating from her initial goal thanks – in a strong part – to the tragic brutality of the Unqualified Robot.

Everybody looks at their goals, laughing at the fresh round of revelations. The only thing left to do now is tally up Momentum and Contemplation to make epilogue rolls.

The Unqualified Robot died doing what it loved: throwing something. The end. No moral.  

Tinderling is a member of the Walking Wounded, unable to settle down in Cerebos, which seems just as bad for workers as the City by the Sea. Nevertheless, she’s gained a newfound appreciation for robot rights.   Before leaving for Cerebos, robots were machines, jerks, and scabs to Tinderling. But the Unqualified Robot taught her that treating robots like tools would only lead to calamity. Maybe her redemption lies in solidarity with all workers...  

The Lonesome Seafarer’s epilogue roll is similar to Tinderling’s. Scurvy isn’t in Cerebos, but she’s found moderating influences elsewhere: “That robot ripping its own head off has taught me some valuable things about myself.” She still hopes to find her missing mate someday, but it isn’t quite the obsession it once was. In the meantime, she’ll keep traveling.  

The Lady in Blue rolls a 4: Self-Actualization! She acknowledges the wrong the Lady in Red did to her, but finds peace in putting aside revenge. She’ll live her own life, not one controlled by a further descent into bloodshed.   Strolling the streets of Cerebos, she sees Tinderling passing out leaflets and the Lonesome Seafarer inspecting a ship-in-a-bottle in a shop window. She feels a fondness for the Lonesome Sea Captain, perhaps from the adventures they’ve had or perhaps because it was she who first directed the Lady in Blue to Cerebos.   “Captain,” says the Lady in Blue, taking the captain’s arm. “How do you feel about having a whiskey with me?”   “I’ve only had grog before,” the Lonesome Seafarer hazards.   “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

The Lady in Blue and the Lonesome Seafarer walk through the electric streets, arm-in-arm, in search of drinks.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #cerebos #kickstarter #violence mention #food mention #alcohol mention #death mention

[bqstqnbruin]

I hate it when you stare

Wow here I am with another part, another fic. Ignooooree my typooos. Is this more soft smut? No one told me last time if what I wrote counts so uhhhhhhh

Read the whole series:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

I really do have work to do for my class at 2:30 tomorrow but instead I finished this, so I hope you like this!

_______________________

“How is it bullshit? Everyone can tell that we’re in love with each other.”

“So, what, because other people believe it, that automatically means it’s true?”

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

Evelina was visiting home for the weekend for her mom’s birthday, which meant that you had the apartment to yourself. From Friday after work until Sunday night, you were free to do whatever you wanted by yourself. Or, you thought you were going to be doing whatever you wanted until your boss texted you saying that he wanted your project finished by Monday so you could present it that afternoon. That meant you were posted up on the couch, your hair tied in a bun on top of your head, a mug full of coffee, another of tea, and a cup with water all in front of you, the blanket normally on the back of your couch now draped over your shoulders. It was a full call to the hungover days you had back in undergrad when you woke up late and were struggling to finish the work you had due the next morning.

“It’s me!” you hear a familiar voice call from the door, snapping you out of what might have been the first and only roll you had been on working on the project.

You look up to see Matthew coming over the couch, plastic bags in hand to plop down on the table. “Remind me to change the locks.”

“That would mean you have to get up to let me in, though,” he sends a wink in your direction.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him, even though you felt butterflies throughout your entire body at the sight of him looking so comfortable next to you. It was just because he’s a guy, not because it’s Matthew. You let out a quiet sigh as he fiddles with the remote to your TV. “Who says I wouldn’t leave you in the hallway? Plus, I thought you were supposed to have practice today?” you ask, trying to focus more on your project than on him.

“We’re done, and we don’t have a game for three days for once, so we’re resting up. I figured, why not come see my favorite girl?” he says, resting his hand on your shin once your drape your legs over his lap. 

“Because Taryn is in St. Louis so you settled for me instead?”

He scoffs, slowly running his hand up and down your bare leg while his eyes fixate on the television screen. He had to be able to feel the goosebumps that he was causing with his touch. “Fine, my favorite girl in Calgary unless Taryn is visiting, are you happy?”

“Am I ever happy when I’m around you?” you tease, lifting only your eyes from your screen to look at him. Still staring at the TV, you can see the smile on his face, but it almost looks like his jaw is clenching, like he’s fighting saying something back.

“And how could I not be happy around you when you treat me like that?” Your eyes linger for a second on his smile before scanning the rest of his body. Even under the long-sleeved dry fit shirt he was wearing, you could see the outline of the muscles that graced his abdomen. His arms looked like they were begging to rip the seam of the shirt, and you wanted nothing more than to take it off of him and just let them free. “Do you like what you see, babe?” you hear him say, snapping you out of the thoughts you were convincing yourself meant nothing as he was looking at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“I’m trying to picture you as a more attractive guy,” you lie, “It would be so nice if Elias were here, wouldn’t it?” 

“If you’re implying that you want a threesome, then I don’t think I could do it with a teammate,” he laughs, his fingers tightening around your shin. Would Elias be better than Matthew? Any guy would be better than Matthew, you tell yourself. He’s your best friend, and nothing more. 

“What have I said about being crude?” you ask him, fixating your eyes on the way he’s biting his bottom lip. “I think I’m gonna go get my headphones so I can do this project.” You bolt from the living room to your bedroom, leaving Matthew there by himself while you search for your phone in a panic. 

“Hey, is everything ok?” Evelina says on the other end of the phone call as you try to search for your AirPods in the mess that was your room.

“No, Matthew is here.”

“And that’s bad because?” she asks, drawing out her last word.

Groaning, you drop your phone on your desk, prompting Matthew to call to you asking if you were ok. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” Turning back to Evelina, clearly in a panic that she could hear in your voice, “Matthew is here and I think I’m horny.”

“You’re always horny for him because you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not in love with him and I’m honry because I haven’t been touched by a man in like, three months. It’s starvation.”

You hear her groan on the other end, her parents voices in the background. “Hold on, I need to go into another room,” she says. “Ok, so you really told me two days when you got home that you and Matthew nearly fucked in public  in the liquor store. You have been touched by a man. He was also practically feeling you up at the bar a week ago, might I remind you.” 

“I don’t love him,” you say, unprompted, “And he never even kissed me.”

“Says that hickey that you somehow didn’t notice he gave you?” she says, you turning to your mirror to touch the mark she was talking about. You honestly didn’t know it was there until she said something to you when you walked in the door. “If you don’t love him, why don’t you just tell him to leave?”

“I want company and he’s the only thing I have when you aren’t here. Really, this is all your fault.”

“That was so sweet until you blamed me. If you don’t want him to leave then what’s the problem?”

“Horny,” you say at the same time. “Either do something about it or control yourself, babe, but I’ve gotta go. Miss you, love you,” she says, hanging up when you finally find your AirPods.

Pulling up your playlist so it’s already playing when you get to Matthew, you don’t even look at him as you take your computer back in your lap and throw your legs in his. You can feel his eyes tracing the outline of your body even under the baggy sweatshirt you had on from a college you never went to. 

You had worked for what was probably a solid half hour, Matthew mindlessly rubbing his hand on your leg like he did before, you needing to do everything in your power to stop from thinking about and wanting more. You were interrupted by Matthew reaching over and tugging on the hem of your shorts. “Are you really listening to Christmas music right now?”

“Is it that loud?” you ask, turning the volume down immediately.

“No, I can read your lips. You were mouthing ‘Feliz Navidad,’ and ‘Sleigh Ride.’”

“Oh, then, yes,” your cheeks flushed with embarrassment that you didn’t even realize you were doing that. 

“It’s March, babe.”

“Ok, but Christmas music is fine year round.”

“No?” he questions.

“So I’m going to tell you why you’re wrong,” you start, moving your computer to the table so you don’t drop it, provoking a laugh to escape from his lips, “While I don’t agree with all things in Catholic and the broader Christian doctrine, there are things I can agree with basically because they are up for interpretation, so I interpret them in the way I like. Take, for example, the ninth commandment: love thy neighbor. Some people take it as a literal ‘love thy neighbor’ as in ‘be a good neighbor,’ to the ones who live next door, but I think it’s a matter of caring for those around you, neighbor not being the person immediately next to you wherever you live, but just other people in general.”

“What is your point?” he asks, a devilish grin spread across his face.

“My point is that the Bible, which is the end all be all of Catholic doctrine according to some people, is up for interpretation and people use it the way that benefits them, no matter how wrong they normally are. In Hebrews 13:15, it says, “Through him let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name,” thereby, justifying and promoting listening to Christmas music year round. It praises Jesus, who is one of the persons that make up God, and doing year round is continuous.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Hey, if people can be assholes and use a 2,000 year old book to try to wrongly justify their bigotry and homophobia, why can’t I use it to rightly justify my listening to christmas music all year?”

“Are you Catholic?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn about it and keep the things that I like with me. I’m not Jesuit but I follow their ideals like ‘care for the whole person’ and ‘be a man or woman with and for other.’ And Evelina’s parents are very religious, so we kind of put up a front whenever they visit to please them. They still think we go to Mass every Sunday.” 

“Is that why there’s sometimes a crucifix by the door?” he asks, you nodding along. “And that weird Jesus magnet where he has a chefs hat and it says ‘fish and bread are served’ underneath him?”

“Yeah, I think her dad superglued that to the fridge because no matter how many times we’ve tried to get it off it won’t budge. Plus it’s a reference to another Bible passage.” 

“I went to a Catholic high school, remember? I already knew that.” You can’t help but return the smile he was sending your way, this time your eyes flicking down to his lips, you unsure if his were doing the same. You snap out of it, biting your lip and making eye contact with Matthew, both of you breathing slightly unevenly at just thinking about what you could do with each other. Was Evelina right that you two loved each other?

No, she couldn’t be right, because you didn’t love him. You pick your computer back up to get back to work, not saying another word as Matthew turned back to the TV. You hit a deadend, finding yourself back to staring at Matthew’s perfect face while his eyes narrowed and a small smirk formed on his lips at something funny on whatever movie or show he was watching. 

“Ugh, fuck,” you groan, Matthew’s head snapping to your direction as you cover your face with your hands. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” 

He reaches over and pulls your hands from your face, intertwining his fingers in yours. “Take a break, I brought food for us.” 

“You didn’t cook it yourself, did you?” you ask. The last time he had made food for you, you were sick for a week from what you’re sure was food poisoning from something being undercooked.

He laughs, the pad of his thumb rubbing your palms. You could feel your breathing get shallow by this, trying to ignore it while he’s talking to you. “No, I got it from the store down the road, already made. Mac and Cheese!” he says, pulling it out of the bag.

You roll your eyes at his stupidity. “Matthew, we’ve been sitting here for over two hours, why would you leave that on the table instead of in the fridge?”

“It’s still warm!” he argues, opening it, “Oh and it smells so bad.” You burst out laughing as he cringes, closing it immediately. “I’ll order something else.” 

You get up to go throw out the now rancid mac and cheese in the kitchen. “Hey, where do you want to order from?” you hear Matthew call, walking into the kitchen behind you.

The list. 

It’s on the fridge.

Practically throwing yourself at it to try to tear it down in time, you rip it off the fridge and fold it up in your hand just in time for Matthew to come in. “Are you ok?” he asks you, noticing your slightly faster breathing and your hands behind your back.

“Yeah, the smell was just bad,” you lie to him, shoving the list in the band of your shorts. “And I was looking at the Jesus magnet.” 

“That thing is so creepy,” he says, both of you looking at it. Knowing Matthew, you try as discreetly as possible to move the paper to your front so he can’t feel it as he inevitably presses his front to your back, his arms draping over your shoulders. Without thinking, you reach up to touch his hands as he rests his head on yours. “It’s way too white to be Jesus.”

His arms move their way down your body, settling around your waist as he starts to nibble at your ear. “God, you are so sexy,” you hear him let out.

“You’re awfully handsy lately, aren’t you Matty?”

“Oh come on,” he says, turning you around to face him, practically pinning you against the fridge, “You know we’re always like this with each other.” 

You smile at him, cupping his face in your hands as you run the pads of your thumbs along his cheeks. “We have a weird...” you start, trying to figure out the right word to describe whatever it was you had with him, “friendship,” you settle on, not exactly liking the word yourself as your tried to hide the cringe you were sure was appearing on your face. 

He swallows hard at that word. Even relationship would have been better, even if it were more broad than ‘friendship.’ At least it wasn’t such a narrow word. It felt like even if you didn’t finish the list you didn’t know he knew about, you would never see him as more than a friend. “Well, that’s what makes it my favorite friendship.” 

The two of you stand there for a minute, holding each other and gazing into the others eyes. You could feel your breathing slow down studying Matthew’s facial features again, thinking only of how perfect they looked to you in that moment. “We should figure out where we’re getting food from,” you say, dragging your hands down his chest before dropping him all together. 

He could have stared at you like that forever. He really couldn’t think of anyone more perfect than you, anyone he would want to look at besides you. “What are you in the mood for?” he asks, moving over to the counter. Opening your fridge, you remember you still have the list folded in the band of your shorts, throwing it in before grabbing some water out. “What did you just throw in there?” Matthew asked you, having watched your every move.

“Uh, Evelina and I have this weird list that we’re putting together, it didn’t feel right to have Jesus looking over it all of a sudden,” you tell him, “But now that you had mac and cheese on my mind, I kind of want that.”

“Oh, no, you’re not changing the subject that easily,” he says, trying to reach around you to open the fridge. 

“No, come on, it’s mostly Evelina’s and I don’t know if she would want you seeing it,” you lie, batting your eyes at him and trying to contort your face to make it look like you would cry if he tried anything else. He couldn’t see the list of things you hate about it. He couldn’t find out about it. 

He sighs, knowing he wasn’t going to win this one. “I ordered you mac and cheese but I’ll pay for it if you tell me the subject of the list?” he tries to bargain. 

“Uh, it’s a list of kinks,” you lie, not knowing what else to say, and usure why that was the first thing that came to mind.

His eyes go wide, pretending to be shocked. It was the list of ten things you hate about him. It had to be. He grins anyway, trying to hide the pain he felt knowing that the list was already started, and probably nearly finished at this point, “Are any of them your kinks?” 

“Yeah,” you start to lie to him again, a grin on your face, “One of them says, ‘When Matthew leaves me alone.’”

He scrunches up his face, pretending to be hurt by your comment as he walks back to your living room. “Oh you know just how to break my heart, pretty girl.” You follow him, plopping down next to him on your couch. 

You pick up your computer, snuggling into his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. “I have no desire to do this project.” 

“Why don’t we watch something on TV then and you can work again after we eat?” he suggests. You nod, putting the computer back down, surrendering to his pout. You feel him kiss the top of your head, scrolling through the channels. “What about Lilo and Stitch?” he asks when he finds it on one of the channels. 

“Ugh, I love this movie, but the American treatment of Hawaiians is awful, and I just can’t help but think about it every time I watch,” you say, thinking you were being annoying. “Sorry,” you apologize. Evelina was used to your rants, even if you were sure she normally tuned them out. You didn’t think Matthew wanted to listen to another rant from you. 

“Don’t get me started?” he asks, referring to the game you and the guys played at the bar.

“Don’t get me started on the American colonization of Hawaii. The Cookes’ went to Hawaii and pretty much obliterated the royal bloodline. The king of Hawaii had the Cookes build boarding schools for the royal children, with good intentions that they would be able to educate his children on royal customs to effectively rule their land. Instead, the Cookes took the Hawaiian customs and told them they were wrong, imparting their own customs on them, instead. They wanted he land for America, they wanted to eliminate the Hawaiian culture and make them as American as possible,” you say. “The Hawaiian people were a very sex positive people, but oh no, American Catholic education and their ‘no sex is the safest sex’ ideal stopped the children from living the lives they grew up expected to live. If a boy was found in a girls room doing anything in these boarding schools, they would beat the children as punishment, and probably other things that weren't even recorded. There are actually a decent number of Wikipedia pages that have had this information erased, like when you go back into the edit history. The sources, as they claimed, weren’t valid, but in reality they weren’t the Cookes’ American-centric description of these schools. They even went so far as introducing sports into the schools as ‘an antidote to the worst evil of all: sexual promiscuity,’” you comment, drawing a laugh from Matthew. “Because we all know how much athletes hate sex, right?” 

You look up at Matthew, him beaming down at you as Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride starts ironically playing in the background, “Yeah, we hate that,” he whispers. You swallow hard, trying to ignore any feelings that might be coming up at the sight of Matthew biting his bottom lip. 

“American’s always just insert themselves where they don’t belong,” you finish, settling your head back onto his shoulder as he pulls you closer to him. 

“Why do you know all of this?” he asks.

You shrug, not really sure how to answer, “I don’t know. When I’m doing work I see one word and it sends my mind into this never ending tangent and I end up looking up stuff online and reading for hours.” 

“You really are the smartest person I know,” he says with a sigh, “Why hasn’t Ev told her parents about hiding the Catholic stuff until they come?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know. I never asked, she just told me it was something she needed to do, so I did it with her. That’s her own cross to bear,” you say, taking a minute to realize the really bad pun you just made. “Ah! See what I did there!” you practically yell, Matthew groaning.

“On that note, I think I need to leave,” he jokes, getting up off the couch.

“Oh, come on, no!” you beg, taking him by the hand and trying to drag him back down to the couch. “I don’t want you to leave,” you let out as he pulls you off the couch. 

“Really?” he asks you, sitting back down on the couch, your hands still connected.

Standing over him you nod as he pulls you into his lap, straddling him. He pulls you as close to him as you can, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Your mind flashes back to the liquor store, the feeling that came over you as he worked his way along your body like you had a feeling he was about to do again. 

“Come on Matthew, you know this isn’t something we do,” you tease, even though you can’t help but look at his lips, the urge to kiss him creeping up on you as you tried desperately to suppress it. If any guy had taken you into his lap like Matthew just did, you would want to do the same thing. You were just desperate for a man, not desperate for Matthew. 

“We can’t do anything?” he teases, going for your neck again. You let out a moan, praying that he doesn’t leave any more marks that you’ll have to cover up later. 

“Wait,” you say to him, pulling him off of you. He looks slightly upset, not sure what to do next. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ you think to yourself, pulling his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side and returning the favor of the hickey he gave you. You suck on his skin, listening to the moans that escaped from his lips this time, feeling him grow hard the longer you were at it. He clenches his hands on your butt, pulling you even closer to him. You work your way up his neck and to his jaw, his grip getting tighter the closer you were to his lips. You had no idea what was coming over you and causing you to want to do this, but nothing in that moment felt better. Nothing in your life had ever felt better as you kissed his face the way he did to you the other day, hearing him moan more and more with every connection you made. 

Your lips are millimeters from his, both of you practically begging the other for connection when you’re startled by the sound of Matthew’s phone ringing. You both laugh, foreheads pressed together. One more second and it would have happened. “I think that means our food is here.” 

“Perfect fucking timing,” he mutters, not loud enough for you to hear as you get up to go grab the food. He couldn’t believe you just did that. He checks his neck in his phone camera, seeing it littered with the red marks you had left for him. He reaches up to touch them, smiling for some reason. There’s no way this list would work against him, would it? 

You come back, him practically throwing his phone so you don’t see what he’s doing, settling down on the couch with each other eating the food. Your mind starts racing with thoughts about what just happened. There was no way you really wanted that, did you? Well, you wanted a man’s touch, but it didn’t necessarily have to be Matthew. It could be any guy. 

‘I have another thing for the list,’ you text Evelina, your eyes moving between your phone screen and his hands holding his food, careful not to look up at his face.

‘Good, god, what?’

‘I hate the way he stares,’ you send her, finally looking up, not taking your eyes off Matthew as the two of you can’t help but stare at each other.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines #flames #flames imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

[cxmetery-gates]

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER SIX: PICKUP TRUCK THOUGHTS

SUMMARY: Lynn takes a moment of solitude to put things into perspective, all thanks to a friend’s truck and some clouds. WORD COUNT: 2.8k NOTE: Not me falling of the face of the internet for a couple months. Whoops! WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

"YOU REALIZE IT'S A SERIOUS problem at this point, right?"

"At least it's not crack."

The two familiar voices catch both mine and Gabe's attention. With the doors open, legs sprawled out wherever they're comfy, and some early 2000s alternative music jamming from the speakers, we genuinely look like high school delinquents. All we're missing is a cigarette hanging from our lips.

My back aches as I pry my upper half to sit up straight, a chorus of popping following my movement. I brightly grin at River and Ellie and my feet reach the black pavement. It appears Ellie just rolled her eyes at River's sassy remark. I begin to ask what they were talking about before I notice something being shoved back in the boy's backpack: his new Obi-Wan Kenobi lightsaber. Part of me isn't surprised, but the other half is wondering what reason he has to carry it around at school. Regardless of the reason, we all have our quirks: it took me until the eighth grade to leave my replica of Harry Potter's wand at home.

Geeky things, I guess?

I can only guess what River was telling Ellie when it comes to his devotion to Star Wars. There isn't an existing number to count how often River and I find ourselves on the topic of space battles and the Skywalkers.

"What's up, friendos?" I ask as they draw closer. A sudden chilly breeze lifts my hair and bumps along my skin. It's almost a frustrating sensation, it being the middle of August. It looks like I'm the only one who feels it, as my teeth are the only ones that chatter. Since my arms are tightly holding each other, I barely have time to react to Ellie's next reaction.

Ellie drags her feet dramatically until she goes limp in my arms. "I wanna go home and sleep."

I stumble back at the weight added, wriggling my arms to hold her steady. The last thing I need on the first day of school is a concussion. "Christ— well maybe if you get off, we can take you home."

River piles his backpack into the back of Gabe's truck, the loud thump startling Ellie, and looks at us with a confused stare. "Weren't– Weren't we supposed to hang out today?"

The girl in my arms rises to her feet, groaning. "Shit, I forgot. My mom said she wants me back home after school as soon as possible. You know, groundings and all."

"Next time, don't get into an accident." Gabe sends her a smirk.

Ellie narrows her eyes and mocks his response, crossing her arms and leaning on one leg. A small chortle parts my lips as I lean up against the truck next to River. After her bickering, Ellie continues. "Go get ice cream or something in my memory. I just have to get back before I'm killed, which should be any day now."

"I call your funeral playlist," I reply. Looking up while my fingers stroke my chin comically, I add, "A ton of 80s pop with a dash of Gaga?"

Booping my nose, Ellie smiles. "You know me too well."

We all file into Gabe's small truck— well, almost all of us. Since the truck is a three-seater and police like to patrol this area, there is always a sacrifice who gets to claim the back of the car. This time, it happens to be me. Once I was lying flat on my back, a blue tarp was pulled over my body, coming right above my nose. Oh, the perks of old, short pick-up trucks roaming a town with endless police...

Sliding open the window, Gabe's voice calls out. "You good back there?"

"Yeah, I'm fucking peachy," I reply.

There's the sound of laughter before the engine kicks on. At that moment, my paranoia starts to kick in, starting with my heart beating fast in my chest and palms getting sweaty. Not once have any of us gotten caught, but I can't help but think the day we are, it's my ass going to jail. I've never bothered to look at the laws relating to seat belts in other states, but here, the law is highly enforced. Not only would I get fined and definitely put into a cell, but I have no doubt Gabe would endure the same fate.

Nice way to put yourself in one of these states, I chastise myself.

I almost groan, but I can't be sure if I'll cause one of the friends up front to worry. So, I exhale and inhale rhythmically like I was taught. Looking straight ahead, all I can see are blue skies and puffy white clouds. Occasionally, a tree or two will enter the scenery. I'm barely blinking as I try to put shapes to the clouds, some more impossible than others. Despite having an imaginative mind, the figures aren't creating a picture for me to follow.

I like to remember how easy it was as a child to create something out of nothing. An empty napkin roll wasn't just cardboard; it was a telescope that needed color. Our dolls weren't acting on our behalf; they were doing it themselves and showing us their lives. Every cloud wasn't just a random array of water droplets but rather, a visual story to be told. I want to know what causes all of us to lose that form of innocence. Ways of thinking like pessimism or optimism, that's easy: once too many shitty things start to happen more than the good, one is likely to form a biased view or vice versa. But, why do we stop playing with imaginary friends? Or act out intense battles on the playground? Even the smallest blip of innocence, like cloud-watching, becomes warped.

Sometimes, it's easy to pick out that moment in our own lives where we find ourselves becoming grown-ups and leaving childhood behind, but the shitty part is that it isn't just me or Ellie, River, or Gabe who go through trials. It's not just the kid who loses a parent or the girl who was taken advantage of. Everyone has their wars. And in the end, we lose, becoming a part of the system that inflicts these damages.

These damages I speak of tear us apart. They mold us into shapes beyond recognition. No longer a funny shape or a distorted animal in the sky, but dark, heavy, and so close to bursting. And when we finally let go, after all the waiting and rolling, we seem to explode, leaking and oozing our pain, our torment, us. And when it's over? What's left? I guess there are two options: remain on the ground to seep into further nothingness, or rise once more, only to break again, again, and again. But life is such torment and full of trials, is it not?

Funny how staring at a cloud can put life into perspective.

My brain is overrun by these thoughts that I don't even realize Gabe's truck is rolling to a stop. I finally take notice when car doors swing open then shut.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," River says leaning over the side of the truck to get a look at me.

Rolling my eyes with a grin, I swat at his shoulder, which misses as he recoils. "Shut up, loser." I sit up, tossing the tarp to the side as I move to stand. River smirks and offers his hands to help me down. Without hesitation I take them, swinging one leg over the side and the other following before I made a short leap to the ground. Because neither of us apparently can avoid embarrassment, we're both holding each other's hands after I land. A rosy blush spreads across his entire face— no doubt mine as well— before I take the initiative to lean backwards, focusing on Ellie who crawls from the side door.

"Speaking of losers," Gabe sighs. I can't help but feel the reddening in my cheeks, assuming this asshole is talking about River and me, but I notice he's looking at Ellie, now swinging her backpack around one shoulder in her driveway.

She notices that all of us are looking, causing her to freeze. "Why does everyone hate me today?"

I smile bringing her into a goofy hug. "We just miss you. Don't get into any more accidents, please?"

"Yeah, yeah," she snorts, hugging me back to the best of her ability, considering I have her arms pinned down at an odd angle. "Alright, leave my driveway before I actually get you guys killed."

Gabe, River, and I say our goodbyes before filing into the white truck, heading God-knows-where as a worn-down engine sparks to life. Looking over at River, who sits to my right in the passenger seat, I send him a glare that he doesn't see since his eyes are focused on what lies beyond the window— or lack thereof.

While his hair barely covers his neck, mine flows down to my mid-back, meaning having windows rolled all the way down and speeding down a highway won't lead to the best outcomes for my hair. But I can't complain too much: River's hair going crazy in the wind is both cute and a bit funny. A small smile graces my features before a thin lock of hair enters my lips.

Glancing over at the driver, I notice how only locks of hair toward the ends move slowly despite the windows rolled all the way down, as if the strands are wearing a shield against the wind. I wonder how Gabriel keeps his hair so still before making the dumbfounding realization that he wears that beanie 24/7 and who knows how long he goes without washing his perfect hair. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen the boy without the hat. I guarantee no one would recognize him without it.

"So, where are we heading?" Gabriel asks when we reach the stoplight before entering the populated part of town.

I exhale, leaning my head on the headrest of the seat. "Well, I for one could go for something frozen. Maybe a burger, too."

"Didn't you just eat lunch?" River asks, humorously smiling in my direction.

"And had coffee literally less than an hour ago," Gabe adds.

Sending a blank look to River (whose smile widens) then over to Gabe, his eyes never leaving the stretch of road ahead of him (at least one person in the group can do that), I huff, my eyes shutting closed and I bring my shoulders up into a shrug. "I don't know what you both have against me and my food and drink consumption, but you better knock it off."

There's a small hum of laughter to my right, sending a slight shiver down my neck. "If we left you alone for a week, there's no telling how much you'd put in your system," River tells me as if I don't know that already.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, Bob and Jillian, I don't need you to berate me."

══════════════════

Twenty minutes later, the three of us find ourselves outside a burger joint. In one hand, I have a burger waiting to be devoured and in the other is a frozen strawberry lemonade. Nothing says summer like this combination. We're sitting the parking lot eating our meals, more specifically in the back of the truck. From my phone, I have a playlist plainly called "Chill" playing from the nearly-blown speakers.

"I never thought food could taste so good," I moan as the burger slides down my throat.

"You're acting like you haven't eaten in a week."

Sending Gabe an eye-roll, I reply, "It might as well have been."

There's a moment of silence before River brings up a topic not discussed in a couple weeks. "Do you guys wanna come over and jam for a bit sometime this week? We haven't done anything in a while."

One summer a few years back, the trio of us learned we can play different instruments. I have been playing the guitar and drums since I was younger, thanks to a musically gifted grandfather. Gabe and River both had a knack for guitar too, though Gabe had more experience with the bass guitar and River had some training with piano. While our jam sessions are nothing too serious, as none of us want to be in a band or write our own songs, it's become a fun and stress-reducing way to hang out when silence would otherwise fill the atmosphere. The last time, we figured out how to play the theme songs of our favorite movies using a ukulele and bongos. It was something I didn't need to hear, but I'm glad I did.

I nod my head. "Yeah, we can this weekend if we aren't being drowned in homework by that point."

Gabe also agrees with a nod, his mouth full of fries. "It's a maybe from me: Mom might need to borrow the truck since hers is wearing down."

River turns his dark brown eyes over to me, capturing an embarrassing scene as lettuce pokes between my stuffed lips. Great. "Well, I guess I can hang out with you if someone can't show."

While I playfully punch his arm, I send a look over to Gabe who hides a smirk in his straw. He catches me looking as River goes on about one of his classes. Sending me a wink, I narrow my eyes knowingly: his mom just got a brand new truck. Mr. Matchmaker goes back to this food, making a statement on how hot River's finance teacher is, causing the boy to make a very uncomfortable face.

Despite the long talks we shared in the back of Gabe's truck, I find myself zoning out hardcore once again. I can't figure out why exactly my mind had wondered, but I do know where. My thoughts go back to Trinity's face, remembering how she would sit next to me against the side of the truck the very few times she decided to make time for my friends. There's a ghost of warmth in my palm like fingers squeezing when the short snippet of a memory expels from deep inside my mind. I don't know why I thought of it. It just appeared, causing a droplet of woe to fill my gut.

Like my friends have told me before, I need to let this go. There's no use in holding on to something, or rather someone who isn't coming back, especially someone who was never good for me in the first place. Glancing up, I spy on River munching and talking with Gabe. A blush covers my cheeks when I remember how utterly embarrassing it was when I broke down in front of him over a stupid girl. He told me there are worse things to worry about.

"Like climate change?" I asked, sniffling into a pillow. I hope he washed it after that encounter. Hell, he needed to lysol everything down after my mopey ass walked through the place.

River smiled warmly at me, pulling me into a giant bear hug. Sometimes, I want to ask for one of those hugs again. "I was going to say people who like pineapple on pizza, but climate change is also a concern."

I remember crying not a second later, but that was due to the thought of polar bears facing extinction.

Contrary to knowing how wonderful my three best friends are, I'm also aware that there are certain things I can't share. I don't want to overbear them with my problems that should have been solved months ago. The fact that I'm still getting small flashbacks and thoughts of her is pathetic, and I'm aware of that fact. On the other hand, it isn't like my group of friends will give up and leave if I spill my guts, right? I shouldn't be scared of expression my thoughts, feelings, and emotions to my closest friends. And yet, here I sit, undecided on what to do.

Christ, do I need to get my priorities straight.

When my eyes break away from their trance, all I see is Gabe and River entering a heated discussion, about what I'm not sure. With my thoughts still in a bit of limbo, I'm shocked back to reality when they both leap from either side of the vehicle, rushing to pull items from their bags.

Under any other normal circumstance, it would be concerning to see two dudes arguing one moment then reaching into their bags the next. I'm willing to bet the next logical calculation for a stranger would have been to get away, fearing the queue for guns or knives. But I know these losers. Even if they are fighting or wanting to kill each other, there is only one way they can settle their differences.

"Soon, you will see the way of the Jedi," River exclaims while thrashing his blue lightsaber through the air.

"Shut the fuck up, you nerd!" Gabe flicks out a red lightsaber, taunting the other.

"Oh, my God," I say with no emotion in my tone, watching as red and blue shamelessly slash at each other in battery-produced light in a burger joint parking lot.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

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#obsessive teachings #dark!tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x ofc #teacher!tom hiddleston #loki #high school #stalking #obsessed love #obsessive #dark!fic

[isabilightwood]

THE PROBLEM WITH AUTHORITY - CHAPTER 8

Or, Sacrifice Summon! Jiang Yanli is here to make things right, be the ultimate big sister (step 1: bring back her dead brother), and maybe steal the Peacock throne in the process

[AO3][1][2][3][4][5][6][7]

iang Yanli was thrilled to have A-Xian back, and she absolutely hated his plan.

He’d had little difficulty creating the device that would cloak him in a face meant for meaningless cruelty. He had carved a simple wooden mask, and etched characters into it with unusual care. While Jiang Yanli was still getting A-Ling dressed the next morning, A-Xian sketched a young man sweeping leaves across the street, and she walked down to breakfast to find a stranger sitting comfortably among the Nie.

There was nothing in his features to give away that this was a mask, or a face that did not belong to him. But his smile was still his own.

Nie Huaisang had already managed to find clothes in Nie gray that fit A-Xian. Jiang Yanli had to wonder if he’d prepared them beforehand, somehow remembering A-Xian’s measurements without even needing to ask her.

“Shiji— Ah, I mean, Jin-furen. Are you going to introduce your little monster to me?” A-Xian grinned brightly.

She’d thought he would only be able to glimpse his sleeping nephew. But with this disguise, A-Xian could meet him, and A-Ling would never be able to give him away with a child’s innocence.

A-Ling hid behind her back, suddenly shy, though he had not been with the Nie disciples the day before.

She knelt to get on eye level with her son. “It’s alright, A-Ling. He’s a friend.”

Setting his jaw, A-Ling looked stubbornly away.

“Hold on a second.” A-Xian sketched a talisman in the air, and it burst apart into a flock of glittering butterflies. He’d invented it for distraction, but it also doubled as a foolproof way of charming small children.

A-Ling gaped, his hand dropping from her sleeve, and ran forward to jump for the butterflies. As they disappeared under his grasping hands, he laughed in delight.

A-Xian laughed with him.

“Would you show me that one?” Nie Xiaodan asked. “It would be great for convincing our novices to get up and start their exercises. Some of them think that because their Sect Leader is a layabout that means they can be too.”

Nie Huaisang looked up from dipping his youtiao, soy milk dripping from the end of the fried bread. “Our finances are in better shape than they’ve ever been, and I let her manage night hunts as she wishes, and this is the thanks I get.”

“Except for the ghoul infestations you have us move or neglect to keep the other sects and your own peasantry convinced you’re incompetent.” Nie Xiaodan patted her Sect Leader hard enough on the shoulder that he shifted forward in his seat. “So, yes, this is your thanks, A-Sang.”

“The disrespect, not even calling me Zongzhu!” Nie Huaisang complained, even as he preened.

A-Xian laughed as he moved a century egg from his own congee to A-Ling’s. “Sure, I can teach you the talisman. I bet I could modify it so the butterflies last longer, and change directions when someone comes near, so they have to keep chasing them. What do you think, A-Ling? Would that be fun!”

“Mnnmf,” A-Ling agreed, as a blob of his breakfast failed to make it into his mouth. A-Xian beat her to wiping his mouth off, and A-Ling didn’t even flinch, already comfortable with him. Shiny new playthings and a smiling face worked wonders with children, but she hoped A-Ling somehow recognized that he should be important to him.

Jiang Yanli smiled, and brushed a strand of hair back away from her son’s mouth.

After breakfast, Nie Xiaodan and the other disciples parted from them to retrieve Nie Mingjue’s body, and transport him back to Qinghe for burial.

A-Ling had started out the ride babbling excitedly over a series of talismans A-Xian showed him, but eventually, he tired out and dozed off in Jiang Yanli’s arms, trusting her implicitly to keep him upright on the horse.

“It works like this, see?” A-Xian explained while they were on the road, still wearing that stranger’s face so A-Ling couldn’t describe his real one by mistake, only some friendly Nie disciple. He rode hands free, pressing the mask over a drawing of Xue Yang’s face as he etched new shapes into a second mask.

With his poor memory for faces, A-Xian hadn’t remembered the details of Xue Yang’s features. But Jiang Yanli’s glaring had not been enough to stop Nie Huaisang from describing him.

Qin Su was a voice of reason where she didn’t want one. You do have to admit it is a good plan. Jin Guangyao’s very observant — your brother’s plan could make a huge difference in how successful we are in undermining him.

Jiang Yanli had to admit no such thing. I thought you were afraid of him.

I stopped the moment he brought out the butterflies. It’s incredible to me now that anyone who met him could be frightened of him.

He can be intimidating when he wants to, make it seem like he doesn’t care about anything. For her, it was only terrifying to watch her brother do that to himself. His act fooled almost everyone, even A-Cheng.

But not you.

No, A-Xian had never fooled her.

Jiang Yanli would feel much better if there were someone out there, watching his back. If A-Xian would let himself be convinced to go see his zhiji before he committed to any reckless plans. But he had so far ignored her hinting.

Pressing it over the first mask, his features changed in the space of a blink, and Xue Yang stared back at her.

Only the malice was missing.

He went on speaking, and that was even stranger. “I’ll add on a few more faces, I think, so I can look like a respectable grandfather, or a random street kid at the drop of a hat. It doesn’t really let me change my body’s shape, so I won’t be able to shrink into a stooped little granny, unfortunately — that would be even less suspicious. Faces should be enough though, I think.”

“Very impressive, A-Xian. Switch it back, please?” It was, in fact, a monumental achievement, and one he’d achieved in only a single night. But there was only so long Jiang Yanli could stand to look at that face.

He sketched a talisman over the mask without looking, and with a shimmer of golden light, the first face returned. She would have preferred his own, but this was far preferable to the alternative.

The mask did solve the problem of how to smuggle A-Xian into Koi Tower unseen.

Nie Huaisang was all too happy to handle it.

Jiang Yanli entered Koi Tower first, the disciples she’d dismissed at Fengyang appearing at the city entrance as she’d predicted. The others waited outside the city until evening. She brought A-Ling to greet his uncle, as that was expected.

“I trust you had a productive trip?” Jin Guangyao reached out for A-Ling, and plopped him down on his lap. A-Ling giggled, and began to fiddle with a brush with a wet tip, promptly staining his fingers and flicking ink splotches onto his robes.

“I did.” She clasped her hands behind her back to conceal the way her hands clenched into fists at the sight of Jin Guangyao touching her son. Every time it happened, Jiang Yanli had to fight the urge to grab him away and run as far from Koi Tower as she could get. Though Jin Guangyao spoiled A-Ling, she and Qin Su both knew sharing blood would not be enough to protect him, if Jin Guangyao decided he wanted him gone. “I believe Zhai-zongzhu’s planned watchtower locations will be well situated to respond to their most difficult to reach locations. I also provided a few suggestions to Qi-zongzhu. Many of his choices were too close to a temple sect and one was on land that floods regularly.”

“Good, good. Would you mind summarizing those suggestions for me? Qi-zongzhu can be so absentminded, we may need to remind him.” He steepled his fingers, the effect ruined as A-Ling spread ink across the curve of his cheek. Jin Guangyao’s smile twitched. “Excellent, thank you. You also stopped in to see our dear cousin, I believe?”

Our cousin, Qin Su repeated bitterly.

Her breath caught. “I did, yes. I know they had a falling out with my sister, but we’re still quite fond of each other.”

“I feel the same way about Huaisang, though he does test my patience sometimes.” Jin Guangyao did not bring up any of her subsequent extracurriculars. Instead, he plucked the brush from A-Ling’s fist as he came dangerously close to spreading ink on his uncle’s robes. He very seriously asked A-Ling his opinion on tablecloths for an upcoming event.

With that, Jiang Yanli understood the conversation was over. She turned to leave.

Nie Huaisang had a sense for timing, and chose that moment to test Jin Guangyao’s patience. He burst in, wailing, with a rumpled, mud-stained, an out of breath steward on his heels.

Simply a disciple left in his supposed Sect Leader’s dust, A-Xian was able to slip in unnoticed.

Jiang Yanli met him near the kitchens, and after making certain the coast was clear, led him to Wen Qing’s prison using the same techniques as the first time. Thankfully, this time it wasn’t raining.

She knocked sharply on the closed window.

It was flung open with a bang only moments later, revealing Wen Qing, flushed with anger and her hair out of place from running her hands through it.

Jiang Yanli was struck with an odd, simultaneous desire to fix it and make it worse.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come here in person?” Wen Qing snapped.

They’d had no time to warn her, as the papermen had a limited range. “Jin Guangyao will be occupied for hours, and this is important.”

“I thought you were supposed to be…” Wen Qing trailed off, her eyes widening. “Did it work? Did he fall for it?”

A-Xian stepped out of the shadows, removing his mask. “Hi, Qing-jie.”

Wen Qing gasped, and grabbed for his sleeve. “Oh, my — Gods, get in here so I can smack you. How dare you die after we gave ourselves up for you?”’

A-Xian let himself be tugged over the windowsill.

He freed his arm from Wen Qing long enough to bow. “This one apologizes for his grave blunder.”

Wen Qing sniffed, and gave him a quick hug. He beamed, even as tears gathered in his eyes, and squeezed back.

Jiang Yanli climbed inside while they were busy with their reunion and stayed by the window to watch for anyone approaching. From a distance, it would be difficult to tell her and Wen Qing apart, so they’d have enough time to hide under the bed if someone did arrive at an unscheduled time.

“You look awful,” A-Xian told Wen Qing, once they were seated at her desk. The stack of A-Xian’s journals was still there, but the rest of the table was now covered with illustrations of meridians covered in notes in Wen Qing’s writing. Most were scratched out.

Likely something to do with strengthening Jin Guangyao’s core then.

Rather than take offense, Wen Qin rolled her eyes. “Six years of confinement will do that to a person. You look like death warmed over.”

A-Xian laughed in delight. “That’s because I am death warmed over. I came back to life two days ago.”

“Your sister doesn’t look like that.” Wen Qing said, with a glance at Jiang Yanli that felt like a compliment.

Qin Su, for some reason, giggled.

“Obviously Shijie is better than me.” A-Xian turned to beam proudly at her. He was wrong, of course, in his belief that she was the best and kindest person in the world. He didn’t know how the plans she’d set in motion would inevitably hurt the brother of the man he loved and treated the sovereignty of minor sects like weiqi stones, or how she’d threatened Nie Huaisang. But she smiled back anyways.

I don’t think he’ll judge, when he finds out. Qin Su said.

For the most part, no, he wouldn’t. But knowing would forever change his perception of his beloved Shijie, leaving the reality of Jiang Yanli in her place. And she couldn’t assume he would be so sanguine over Lan Xichen. A-Xian had always respected him, and hurting Zewu-jun would hurt Lan Wangji.

Qin Su gave the impression of a shrug. Maybe seeing you more clearly will be a good thing.

A-Xian and Wen Qing fell into an easy rhythm. Watching them, Jiang Yanli felt warm to her center.

“As happy as I am to see you, that’s not enough reason for a visit.” Wen Qing said, after a few more rounds of banter in which they pretended not to have missed each other. “What went wrong?”

“He’s having problems with Xue Yang’s core.” Jiang Yanli explained, before A-Xian could reflexively deflect from the reason they were here.

Wen Qing whipped her head towards A-Xian so fast her neck cracked. “You have Xue Yang’s core?”

He nodded, rubbing a hand gingerly over its place of residence. “I wasn’t entirely sure a core would stick around, when I designed that array, but it seems like the array reshaped everything around it.”

Groaning, Wen Qing took a moment to bury her head in her hands. “You never bring me normal problems. Next time, bring me a nice pulled muscle.”

“I would also like a pulled muscle to be the extent of my problems.” A-Xian sighed wistfully.

“We can dream.” Wen Qing said, her tone flat and disbelieving. “What are the symptoms?”

“When I’m agitated — angry or frustrated, but not sad —his core feels like it’s trying to tear itself apart. Like how the beginning stage of a qi deviation is described. On top of that, resentful energy is in his core, like he invited it there. It feels horrible.” A-Xian leaned forward on his knees and gestured as he spoke.

Wen Qing nodded, and turned to her. “Have you had any with Qin Su’s?”

She hadn’t experienced anything along the lines of what A-Xian was describing. Qin Su’s core felt almost like her own at this point. There was only the way her sword resisted her, draining her when she tried to use it as a spiritual tool, rather than merely a weapon. “Only when I try to control her sword. Chunsheng doesn’t like me.”

Qin Su slipped into a paperman and climbed up to her shoulder to elaborate. <It saps her energy, so she can barely move, much less cultivate. We’ve kept trying, but there’s no improvement.>

“Oh, it’s not just Jiangzai then? I bet they can sense we’re not really their cultivators, despite the cores.” A-Xian perked up with excitement at the implications, before he visibly remembered that this affected him. “But, no. Qing-jie, the real problem is that Xue Yang thought mixing resentful energy in with his spiritual energy was a grand old time.”

“Let me take a look.” Wen Qing took his pulse first, then sent a thread of her own spiritual energy into him. “This is a mess. All that resentment is trapped in your core, and it’s not purifying on its own. I’d bet Xue Yang had resentful energy flowing through his meridians, which would reduce how much gathered in his core and hold off qi deviation.”

She went silent, concentrating, as she continued her examination.

“Absolutely no demonic cultivation,” was Wen Qing’s verdict. “The array seems to have cleared out your meridians, but this core is — well, it’s a mess worse than even you’ve managed to get into on your own. We need to clean it out completely before I can start to help you manage the occasional use of a little resentful energy. That will take a while. Lie on your back, first.”

A-Xian obeyed, but not without complaint. “But how am I supposed to imitate Xue Yang if I can’t use demonic cultivation?”

Carefully inserting the needles in several points along his torso, Wen Qing closed her eyes and began working with hr spiritual energy though them. “You’re supposed to be a genius inventor, aren’t you? Invent something.”

A-Xian smushed his features together in childish irritation. “You’re irritated. What did I do this time? I just got here!”

Smoke-like wisps of resentful energy rose from the ends of the needles, and to Jiang Yanli’s eyes, vanished as it drifted away.

Qin Su’s paperman craned its neck towards the ceiling. Its features were, of course, blank, but her voice gave away her interest. <Its coiling into ropes up there.>

“Wen Qing has been transcribing your work for Jin Guangyao.” Jiang Yanli told him when it became clear Wen Qing would keep him in the dark. “Your handwriting is…”

“Atrocious. But that’s not the real issue here.” Wen Qing grabbed a notebook from the desk, and dropped it, open, over A-Xian’s face. “I had to explain to my family’s murderer that your notes sometimes cut off in descriptions of Lan Wangji’s eyes. Or lips. Or other body parts!”

“In my defense, I never meant for anyone to see this.” He reached up to pluck the book from his face, and flipped through it, eyes going distant as he stared at one of his sketches.

“Well, I did.” Wen Qing plucked the needles from his meridians. “I need to work on your back now, flip over.”

Retrieving a new set of needles, she repeated her work on his lower back.

“Peace offering?” A-Xian attempted to turn his neck halfway around without disturbing the needles. “You’ve been talking to each other with papermen, right? What if I could offer a simpler alternative? To talk more easily at a distance. I had this idea shortly before Qiongqi… I was hoping to… I never wrote it down, but I remember how it would have worked.”

“You wanted to be able to talk to Lan Wangji, didn’t you?” Jiang Yanli asked softly.

“And you, Shijie!” He slumped, pouting. As though to express his disappointment that she would consider herself less important to him. Which she hadn’t, but A-Xian had never had a very secure estimation of his own importance, so he didn’t expect others to either. “But yes. It’s pretty simple, actually. Just hand me that paperweight? And a few more stones?”

“Stay still until I’ve removed the needles, you idiot!” Wen Qing pushed him back down by the shoulders.

A-Xian grumbled out his impatience, but to Jiang Yanli’s eyes he seemed more genuinely energetic than he’d been since before the attack on Lotus Pier stole everything from them. She doubted it could last, if he went forward with this mad plan of his, but she was pleased to see it.

When Wen Qing finally removed the last needle, A-Xian immediately hopped up onto his knees and grabbed for the paperweight. He hunted around for something else that would suit, and came up with an empty crystalline box free of decorative carvings. Retrieving the same steel chisel he’d been using to carve the masks, and applied it to stone.

“So the distance should be … and the sound. No, wait, wrong radical.” A-Xian muttered to himself as he worked.

<Forget the demonic cultivation, if Wei Wuxian can just invent things like this on the spot, that’s what the cultivation clans should fear him for.> Qin Su slid down Jiang Yanli’s sleeve to the floor, and took a leap in A-Xian’s direction, slowed by the pressure of the air.

“Yes, all the explosions should be a warning to stay far, far away.” Wen Qing said dryly.

Qin Su paused with one paper leg in the air as she readied to take the next leap. <Is this going to explode on us?>

“I mostly explode things when figuring out to work metal, or with fire.” A-Xian looked up to grin mischievously at Wen Qing. “Qing-jie invents surgical techniques. That’s far more scary.”

Shrugging her little paper arms, Qin Su continued towards A-Xian to watch him work.

Wen Qing grimaced, hiding her amusement.

Jiang Yanli wanted to see her laugh.

“You know,” she said, “A-Xian may be right. A cultivator once told me the medical tent was more terrifying than any battlefield he’d ever been on. Right before I had to help a healer amputate his leg.”

Wen Qing let out a surprised peal of laughter, and caught herself, but her eyes sparkled as she looked at Jiang Yanli. She found herself without any desire to look away.

A-Xian whooped in success, and she saw that the stones in his hands had begun to glow. He jumped to his feet, with Qin Su holding onto his leg to avoid being knocked away into a wall.

“Okay, so! Hold this.” He placed an inscribed paperweight or box in Jiang Yanli and Wen Qing’s hands. “Think about each other, and put in just enough spiritual energy to activate a talisman. No more than someone without a Golden Core could manage, or you’ll overload it.”

Jiang Yanli met Wen Qing’s eyes as she thought about Wen Qing’s voice lulling her to sleep, the way she’d protested their presence but seemed secretly pleased, the way she always seemed so surprised to find herself smiling. The paperweight began to glow in her hands.

When Wen Qing’s did as well, she suddenly looked away.

A-Xian cleared his throat, prompting them, “Ok, now say something. Recite a recipe or something.”

Jiang Yanli started to list off the ingredients for doupi, one of the few recipes A-Xian had the patience for, but cut off when she heard her voice coming from the stone in Wen Qing’s hand.

“This is—” Wen Qing’s voice echoed from Jiang Yanli’s stone.

It worked. “What a fantastically useful invention.” She said, and again her own voice was repeated back. A-Xian beamed.

It would be… nice, to be able to talk to Wen Qing, and know she wasn’t projecting her consciousness across Koi Tower, leaving her body unaware and undefended. Without the small, but constant risk of Jin Guangyao walking in and finding her in that unmistakable, compromised condition.

“We’ll need to run some tests to see if maybe I can talk to you from a distance as well, but this should at least prevent you from needing to replace papermen regularly.”  A-Xian said, as though he hadn’t just made the greatest breakthrough in cultivation since sword flight.

And done it casually. And not for the first time.

Even more importantly, it was accessible. Anyone could use it.

If they’d had these, after A-Xian defected, when he first had the idea… They had both made mistakes in attempting to save people, in their former lives. The Dafan Wen in his case; A-Xian himself, in hers. But their chief handicap had been the impossibility of regular correspondence without giving the appearance of alliance and putting the fragile, still rebuilding Jiang Sect at risk. Without support from any save her husband and Lan Wangji, neither of whom had anything in the way of political influence, she would have been risking A-Cheng for A-Xian — an impossible choice.

This new invention could have made the difference.

Perhaps now, it could make the difference.

“If it doesn’t, I’m certain you’ll figure it out.” She told him.

“I had better hear from you constantly,” Wen Qing said, in a threatening tone that did nothing to disguise how much she cared.

A-Xian seemed to believe her, more than he ever had when A-Cheng expressed similar sentiments. Perhaps it was the time they’d spent merely surviving together, perhaps the secret they’d shared for so long. Perhaps it was that Wen Qing wasn’t all that much like A-Cheng, really, beyond the surface-level gruffness. There was less difference in their positions, and they shared a common curiosity.

“I want to hear from you every day. I — we — want to know you’re safe.” She needed to know. And with this, the ability to check in at anytime and make sure he was still there, Jiang Yanli might be more capable of watching him leave.

She still hated his plan, though.

“I’ll chatter at you until you’re sick of me.” A-Xian promised with a three-fingered salute and a blinding grin.

Jiang Yanli was going to worry over him incessantly, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

#the untamed #cql #wangxian #yanqing #qin su #the sacrifice summon!jyl fic #where the summoner (qin su) sticks around #this time featuring wen qing's needles #and more mad scientist wwx #(also the fact that I completely forgot to post this on tumblr until i completed the next chapter)

[jennycalendar]

(1/2) I saw your ask from yesterday and I'm totally back on the fluff bandwagon. Do you think Giles and Jenny went on many dates other than the ones we see either pre-The Dark Age or between Ted and Innocence? I just imagine that we must miss so much of them hanging out in general with the show being so heavily in Buffy's POV in the school seasons. I think what I’m asking in this ramble is (sorry if you’ve already been asked this) do...

(2/2) ...you have any Jenny/Giles headcanons for dates they went on or how they would hang out in in general if you think it’s more likely they would end up spending more time together in school hours?

oh, i think they went on a LOT of dates. like i was initially going to be like “i don’t know if giles’s watcher schedule would allow for it” and then i remembered that we see him just awkwardly ditching buffy TWICE so that he can go out with jenny on a SCHOOL NIGHT. like, the man’s schedule probably had to do some extremely scary contortion, but jenny’s adorable so he’s willing to make sacrifices. so here are some dates that i definitely think they went on in canon:

opera. jenny maintains that this was revenge for the monster trucks. giles genuinely does like the opera but also, uh, kinda does want revenge for the monster trucks. joke’s on him tho because he gets really into watching the opera and critiquing it and crying at the sad parts, and jenny gets really into watching him because she’s softer than she would like to admit.

museum! jenny talks very loudly about colonization and stolen artifacts and giles -- i hate to say this but we all know it’s true -- is unfortunately the exact type of academic that would go “museums are all about cultural preservation,” so this starts an actual fucking fight where they literally almost break up. the only reason they don’t break up is because jenny finds the corel draw book in giles’s bag when she’s looking for her beeper and realizes that he DOES listen to her, it sometimes just takes a while for him to get used to new ideas.

dancing!!!!!!!! giles is terrified of moving because he’s afraid he’s going to look really stupid in front of jenny, so he tries drinking to loosen up and ends up knocking over a table or something. jenny laughs so hard she almost cries. it’s actually one of their best dates.

they go out to eat at a fancy restaurant but it’s the first time giles has seen jenny dressed up so he just spends the whole time looking at her like she’s a fairy princess. jenny, who is used to dating people that lowkey objectify her when she’s looking nice (because jenny seeks out non-serious relationships and honestly still doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing in this one), has no idea how to respond to this level of positive & appreciative attention. there is absolutely no dinnertime conversation and a heated makeout session in giles’s car that accidentally turns VERY tender & adoring. jenny, who has literally never been in love and is starting to think she might be heading in that direction, goes home and spends like two hours lying on her bed staring at the ceiling going “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck”

jenny drags giles to some local farmer’s market and he actually loves it. turns out they BOTH think supporting small local businesses is important, and they’re so excited that they have something in common that they get REALLY into shopping together. they stay out till the market closes. giles buys jenny a nice hat. (jenny wears it to school the next day and gets DRESS CODED by snyder because it hits him in the face somehow.)

they drive down the coast one weekend and have a picnic on the beach! jenny is like an absolute manic ball of energy on the weekend (she wants to splash around) and giles is not (he wants to relax by the ocean and read) so they compromise by walking on the shore together and talking about dumb non-supernatural stuff. jenny is terrible so she kicks up water and splashes giles every so often anyway

unfortunately there is definitely a very boring study date that was SUPPOSED to be fun and sweet (jenny genuinely loves hearing giles get all excited about the supernatural stuff he’s researching) but giles fell asleep like thirty seconds in because literally all the dates above this one meant sacrificing a LOT of sleep for jenny’s sake. jenny does all of his supernatural research for him, writes up some notes that he can read to the kids, and drives him home. she refuses to admit that this is definitely the behavior of someone who is pretty seriously committed to another person. this is just casual. all of this is just casual. shut the fuck up.

#asks #fic #(ISH) #calendiles #rupert giles #jenny calendar #god these headcanons are. fun to write #also all these dates do fit into canon no i will not explain the timeline #Anonymous

[cozy-possum]

How I Became Yours: Prologue

Summary: A re-write of the classic How I Became Yours, Zutara comic

This can also be read over at my Ao3 account

The war is over. The war is over. You can rest. You can rest. Aang sighs draping himself against the bench he’d found outside of the council meeting. He tries to brush off Roku and the rest of the avatars humming in his head.

Aang, you need rest. Rest. The war is over. Aang swats out with his hand trying to shove his past lives from the room but ends up smacking Zuko in the face.

Aang “You need rest.”

“Zuko..” Aang looks horrified; he knows he’d hit the scar, the way the skin under it had felt, almost like dragon scales.

“Stop waxing poetic about it; I can hear you thinking.” Zuko laughs a little, a small chuckle and Aang looks nervous but releases the breath he was holding.

“We have a lot to do.”

“Yes; for the moment we all need to be together; to plan our next moves; to pull my nation’s ruling back to its own shores.”

“So you’re saying we’re all going on a trip around the nations? Like old times.”

“It was two weeks ago Aang.” Zuko’s face is back to his usual neutral expression, the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

“Yes; we do need to; mostly the Earth kingdom; Agni knows my people have destroyed much of it.”

“The water tribes?”

“Later; they; the North was able to resist us, Katara and Sokka would be better suited as go betweens.” Zuko gestures to them as they walk up, Toph following with Iroh who drags them all back from the council meetings to the garden for tea.

“Not the Avatar?” Aang looks a little hurt and resigns himself to quietly sip his tea.

“You and Toph need to help the Earth Nations that were devastated by mine. Suki would also be a good ally to have; anyone who knows Earth kingdom traditions, and anyone who can soften the blow of what’s to come.”

“What’s to come?” Sokka furrows his brow.

“The lies and manipulation in Ba Sing Se need to be destroyed if we want to rebuild peace.” Zuko states drawing his gaze to his Uncle who narrows his eyes back at him.

“While I’ll be your council I am not one to rebuild a city I tried to lay siege to.”

“I’m not asking that; I’m simply reminding you how traditional tea brewing is vital to Ba Sing Se; there’s a tea shop that needs it’s owner back.

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”I kissed Katara” Aang’s nervous about leaving; Zuko can tell just from how he shifts on his feet, let alone the fact Aang is giving him a recount of the only two days that had passed while they hadn’t been constantly together in the palace.

“Did you like it?” Zuko shrugs a little curling inward unsure of how Aang wants him to react.

“No; it was like kissing you.” Aang laughs; Zuko knows he must have looked offended.

“Sorry; I’m sure you’re a wonderful kisser; but it wasn’t anything I thought it was; we’re friends, we’re meant to be that way I think...” Aang chuckles to himself and Zuko shakes his head fondly.

“I’m wounded, Avatar Aang; I thought us two were meant to be together!! Two halves of the same whole; two nations able to restore peace!” Zuko offers a half smile and a wink; throwing his arms up and dramatically twisting around in front of the ornate mirror in his bedroom. He can hear Sokka laughing and he tenses up; knowing that if Sokka is around not only will Katara be but so will his advisors. He wonders how relieved they’re feeling to be leaving the Firelord's den. Zuko had asked Sokka and Hakoda to step in on advising; besides his Uncle’s council he wasn’t sure how trustworthy many of the generals' words were. His lingering suspicion of them from before the war made him uncertain; he never knew if they would advise something to unheedingly sacrifice more lives to make him look bad. With the war over they didn’t have to worry much about fights or keeping control of colonies; but Zuko was most concerned about releasing the varying prisoners and some of the towns that were being destroyed under the Fire Nations rule right away.

He knew there was a long way to go but with everyone having discussed plans and the smaller changes he’d already been able to make he knew it wouldn’t be long before they would all see each other again.

With Toph and Aang agreeing to work with the Earth king, and Katara and Sokka agreeing to work with their father to bridge the north and south tribes; Zuko relaxes a little. Enough to assure his Uncle that he can return to running the Jasmine Dragon. Iroh seems reluctant to leave but Zuko refuses to let him stay, even threatening him with making all of his tea. Iroh rebuttals he’d happily put up with it if it meant being near him and Zuko shakes his head reassuring him that he’ll be visiting as often as he can.

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

Aang writes letters every week; at first Zuko had gotten swarmed with three days worth of mail, small half scribbled updates of everything Aang and Toph were doing; the poor messenger hawks he’d given them were exhausted; and after a refueling and two day rest did he respond, in one multi-page letter, requesting they do the same; if not to spare the poor hawks, to spare his servants from thinking something was wrong if the Avatar was sending in seventeen letters a day.

Aang responds later that week two tubes on the messenger hawk’s back detailing everything that had been happening that week; which was to say Appa had eaten at least five new fruits, and that Momo stole someone’s hat. That Toph was improving her sandbending, using it to clean up towns that the Fire Nation had tried to dam and redirect rivers from. She’d also been working on her metal bending, all of the factory pieces and parts that the Fire Nation wasn’t bothered with retrieving was giving her plenty of practice with sculpting tools and other items for the villages and towns to trade and use in rebuilding. 

They’d met up with Suki and Sokka, who were travelling to the north pole with Katara, although Katara had trailed behind checking up on a river town they’d helped before.

Zuko knows it’s silly but he writes each of them letters; well he tries; he combines Aang’s and Toph’s as they’re travelling together, as well as Sokka and Suki’s; they’re a couple anyways is how he justifies it. Which means he has to write a letter just to Katara, it's a good excuse for the first few letters which cover at least three months of travel. He doesn’t blame anyone; he’d been swamped with his Firelord duties as well as trying to rekindle his relationship with Mai, something he was nervous about, now that he was the firelord, and he’d abandoned her to his sister, he’s not sure how she’ll feel about him. By the time he figures out she forgives him; that she’s more than happy to be by his side, although she hates the meetings and council members that drag him away; their false pretenses of peace and caring for the firelord annoy her; she discusses this with Zuko more than often and he’ll laugh it off, assuring her no one but her knows the best ways to take care of him. He’s not sure why he dreams of a soft blue light and a cool touch that night. 

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

Mai always laughs when he reads Aang and Toph’s letters aloud. They’ve moved on from the earth kingdom villages; they’re working at restoring some parts of the air temples and improving the structures that hold them upright. Which means Toph is flying most of the time to reach them and Aang details her reactions to returning to the earth. This usually involves her covering herself in a layer of rocks and then letting Aang use them as target practice for his air or firebending. Toph notes he’s gotten better at his control; she’s able to make nail sized pieces of rock that he can hit and splinter without damage to anything around it and only a few misses compared to the disaster he’d used to be when it came to targets. Sometimes they’ll do it while they’re flying, an excuse for practice they both know they don’t really need anymore with the war finished. It’s a good distraction for Toph, while her dislike of flying never changes, having earth to focus on helps .Aang comments in the letters that she’ll often warp the meteorite bracelet when she gets nervous which is usually whenever they’re flying. While the restorations are underway; increasing the structural integrity is a slow delicate progres that calls for carefully fortifying the pillars and rock structures from the inside; Toph has developed a side project. Her quest to create Toph statue’s in every place they visit. So far they’ve been small palm sized sculptures of her, as she didn’t want to bother the townsfolk or scare any of the wildlife. Since the air temples are uninhabited by humans for now Aang assured her she could make them bigger; they’d visited each temple deciding that the Western one was in need of the most repair and help. Moving the debris and damage that was caused from combustion man was a surprisingly easy task; most of the pillars were scattered around the temple and very little of it had fallen from the cliff face below. Aang knows the restoration isn’t as simple as that; that Toph can really only help with the structural things; that the artwork and murals might not be things she can construct; he wonders if he’ll be able to find everything to mix the paint with.

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

He grows to enjoy Suki’s updates, matter of fact reports that hold very little personal information. Just details about the towns they visited and rankings and tallies of which ones appear to need the most help. Which towns need which supplies. Areas that need the fire nation troops to stay; their influence part of the economic growth and removal could cause worse devastation than leaving them. He’ll often interspersing these reports with Sokka’s humour. Trying to avoid the overwhelming darkness that his family has caused dragging him down. Most of Sokka’s attempts at humor were jokes that reminded him of Uncle and Zuko would try to return the joke with one of his own; or borrow yet another half remembered joke from Iroh. Sokka also includes a string of training and sparring ideas for both of them; they’d been trading tips and tricks after both finding out they’d studied under Master Piandao, Sokka offering moves he would use his boomerang for or fighting moves he’d seen earthbenders repeat. Zuko offered firebending stances and the meditation he would use; as well as the training he’d use for his broad swords. Sometimes he would find Suki’s handwriting in the margins, adding tips from her use of fans or noting some things Sokka was saying were things she had taught him. Both Sokka and Suki were enjoying the weather, the clear skies and fresh air proving to be good for training and practicing sparring with their weapons of choice. Sokka also includes drawings of what Zuko assumes are the animal’s or scenery they’ve been seeing. It was mostly various hills and the occasional house; but he’s tried to draw what Zuko guesses is a gilacorn.

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

Katara are his favourite updates; he claims it's due to her discussions as a budding diplomat, as well as the doodles of waterbending forms she includes; things he can relate to being the firelord and moves he can try to incorporate into his fire bending when he spars. He explains to her that the palace staff is slowly warming up to him; they’re less stiff and he’d even managed to avoid a reaction of terror when he called one of the older chefs by name. He tells her that the turtle ducks have returned to the pond, not that they ever left but they had been hibernating and he includes a crude drawing of a turtleducking with a note in case she’s never seen one. He sends a second letter scrambling after he’d sent the first one; realizing that she’d spent plenty of time around the pond, practicing her waterbending. Mai rolls her eyes lovingly as he grumbles about the mistake of sending the letter too early and making a mistake; she laughs a little, chiding him about using the royal scribes.

Katara  writes back almost instantly, the turtleduck drawing he’d done is included, but there’s another one beside it, obviously drawn by her, Zuko keeps it folded in his robes to laugh at. Her drawing is almost real life, his is a little more impressive than Sokka’s. A doodle he gets weeks later, Katara having no doubt shown him Zuko’s attempt.  Her actual letter is just as impressive, Zuko’s a little amazed Hakoda hasn’t named her chief successor; and then he’s panic stricken that he doesn’t actually know any watertribe customs.  He resolves to brush up on their traditions when they meet next. She is slowly working on teaching some of the northern waterbenders the other styles of water bending, mostly the bending of water in plants; while they’re surrounded by snow and ice she worries one day they won’t and she’d never want any of them to feel cut off from their bending.

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

He doesn’t receive letters for another few months; then it becomes a solid year. He finds out when a swarm of messenger hawks show up that the birds had been through a storm and had gotten turned around twice before finding their way back to the original senders, and once they’d been refed, they’d made their way to him.

He replies to each letter individually; it takes him three days to get through them all; and before Mai can drag him to bed, he’s offered a meal and a seat in the Council for the weekly meeting they have. He gets through the meeting and falls asleep the minute he curls under the tree by the turtleduck pond.

The letters continue for the next two years; a comforting back and forth habit for all of them to keep in touch. It doesn’t replace actually seeing them; and while he has Mai most of the servants and palace staff still avoid him in a social context. The letters stop for a full week. Zuko asks some of his staff to be on the lookout for the messenger hawks.

They bring him one a day later; he pulls an invitation out; obviously done by Hakoda, but the doodle signature is Sokka’s, he grins, laughing a little but responds immediately.

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Hakoda is bringing everyone back together in Ba Sing Se for Sokka and Katara's announcement as councilpersons for the water tribes. He also includes a note about the celebration of Aang's achievement in the complete restoration in the Western Air Temple. Sokka has added a note about it being Katara’s birthday as well, and that Zuko will need to get her a present. This information brings the resurgence in his lack of knowledge about water tribe customs. He knows a few earth kingdom ones but assumes those don't translate and he resists the urge to send a frantic letter to Sokka or even their father and settles for researching everything in the library and asking any of the palace staff to inquire about water tribe customs for an eighteenth birthday celebration.

He finds the water tribe scrolls on his desk the next morning, and three pirates in the jail awaiting sentencing. He also finds one of the scribe's notes about necklace making, and he reads over them, noting that apparently hand crafted items are the biggest compliment to pay to someone you admire; and a necklace is the ultimate expression of that. He stores that idea content that the water tribe scrolls and bending formations will be good enough as a gift. He thanks his servants and makes sure everything is prepared for his trip to Ba Sing Se. Mai declines to come and he assures her he won’t be long; she assures him she’ll survive without him; he knows it’s as good as her saying she’ll miss him. They share a kiss before he leaves on his trip. He didn’t tell his Uncle he was coming, hoping to surprise him, it had been two years since they’d seen each other.

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

When Zuko gets to the entrance to Ba Sing Se he’s not really sure where to go; his feet try to make him return to the house he’d lived in with his Uncle but the carriage he’s riding in brings him to a sprawling house in the uppermost ring; the avatars home; the guide tells him.

He’s not surprised that Sokka is the first one to hug him; Aang follows, slightly taller than the last time he’d seen him. Toph offers him the usual shoulder punch and he sweeps her into a hug, carefully keeping her feet on the ground so she doesn’t lose her bearings. Suki grins pulling him into a hug twisting her face so she doesn’t smudge her warrior face paint.

“Do you have a mission?” he smiles a little and she grins back.

“Of course; I’m in charge of security.” She laughs and Zuko shakes his head. She leads him back into the house; where he greets Katara; surprised by the hug she gives him.

“Missed me that much then?” He grins at her and watches as she looks away slightly. She looks older; he’s sure they all do; but her hair hasn’t changed; it's down a natural wave to it, save for the bun and looping strands that frame her face. He wonders how different he looks. He knows his hair has grown out more; it’s not the length he had it when he was banished but it’s long enough where he no longer has to force it into a barely long enough ribbon.

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

“Now before the party later today we have to stop at this wonderful tea shop we never got the chance to visit.” Toph grins as the rest of the group move to follow. Zuko leads the way, they’ve all chosen to walk and he’s surprised how many people seem amicable to him, he reasons it’s because of who he’s walking with but he jerks slightly when Katara nudges him forward when a few people call his attention.

“Yes?” He’s grateful he’s been able to master the neutral expression because he wants to frown when they bow to him. He resists the urge to bow back; his advisors had informed him it was unheard of; still he inclines his head smiling when they gasp a little.

“Firelord Zuko; it’s so wonderful to see you out in our city.”

“Well it is home to one of the best tea shops in any of the nations; the Jasmine Dragon.” He grins when they look excited and nod.

“We’ve been there; the service is wonderful.” He laughs a little recognising one of the older members as one of the guards he had served. They make it to the Jasmine Dragon uninterrupted. Zuko figures he deserves to be childish as he hides behind the rest of them, making shushing noises as they enter the tea shop.

“Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon.” Zuko swears he can feel his Uncle looking for him; how his voice waivers at the word dragon; Toph leaves the group first moving to hug Iroh; Zuko can feel the ground shifting slightly and he rushes past while his Uncle’s eyes are closed. Grinning as his apron is still on the hook after these years. He ties it automatically and can’t keep the smile from his face as he stands to the side watching the group finish greeting him

“Uncle- um Iroh.” Katara nods to the empty seat and he shakes his head.

“Please; we insist. Excuse us.” Katara waves her hand as she pulls Iroh into the seat. Iroh looks amused and Katara smiles at him saying something Zuko doesn’t hear beyond the blood rushing in his ears.

“Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon; I’m Li, your server-” He’s surprised he got that far before his Uncle hugged him. He gets them all their tea; he’s about to let his uncle make it when Katara shakes her head offering him her seat as she assures him she'll supervise Zuko.

The tea tastes almost exactly like when his Uncle makes it and it’s enough to make Zuko sigh in relief. 

Zuko serves everyone and settles into the seat between his uncle ant Katara. He’s watching Katara as she flicks her wrist; he knows most of the table misses it. He knows his uncle didn’t but when he complements the mixing her face lights up.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were spoiling him.”

“So what if I am? The man who freed Ba Sing Se deserves his tea made exactly how he likes it.”

“Ohhh, and here I thought;” he holds his hands up with a sly smile creeping on his face, it drops for a second when Katara makes eye contact with him, her eyes shimmering at whatever comment he’s going to add.

“I see what you’re doing; making us depend on you for our tea first; and then what; it’ll never end Ms. Water nation diplomat; pretty soon we’ll be having trade routes and intermingling of cultures.” Zuko chuckles.

“Conspiring with the Dragon of the West himself! Truly a stroke of genius.” Zuko’s chuckles fade nervously at Katara’s now unreadable face.

“Sorry. Was that inappropriate?” Zuko curls inward slightly.

“Oh no; it just wasn’t funny.” Katara’s smile and Sokka’s bark of laughter make him grin, until he feels the flick of cold tea against his neck and finds that the tea in his cup has turned to ice.

“And here I thought teaching those kids waterbending would have improved your sense of humour from being around them for years.”

“But I wasn’t with Sokka?” That makes him laugh again and Katara smiles back at him, hiding her continued laughter by turning to check on everyone else, she starts to ask about some diplomacy meeting and Sokka jerks her chair.

“No working on your birthday missy!” Sokka grins, Katara scowls and Zuko nods along with Aang who has a solemn look on his face.

“Yeah, listen to your brother; you can’t work on your birthday; save that for tomorrow, when he’s passed out from a hangover.” Aang laughs at Zuko’s joke so Zuko counts it as a win.

“Oh I was wondering where I should bring the present I have for you.”

“Present?” He can see Katara’s eyes turning towards Sokka and narrowing.

“Uh yeah; it’s your birthday; you get presents on that day; I mean in the fire nation you do.” The terror strikes through him as he realizes Sokka may have been joking about the gift.

“That’s really sweet Zuko; thank you; I guess I’ll have to open it later?”

“You can open it whenever we get back to the house; it’s there with all my things.” He can see Sokka narrowing his eyes at him and he shifts slightly backwards in his seat.

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

”They were in the library I thought you would have more use for them; and they’re yours by right anyways; this doesn’t seem like a very good gift now that I think about it…” Zuko hangs his head slightly; Katara doesn’t seem to hear him; she’s focusing on the scrolls, waterbending forms and movements he’s assuming she’d seen before but with how delicately she’s holding the scrolls he thinks maybe she hasn’t.

“If it’s stuff you’ve…” he trails off looking confused when Katara grabs Sokka’s hand and pushes him towards the scrolls she’s holding.

“That’s..” He doesn’t finish instead pushing Katara aside slightly to just stare at a corner of the page. He cranes his neck, noticing they’re looking at the notes written in the margins. He hadn’t bothered reading the waterbending notes; he barely opened the scrolls themselves just to check they weren’t anything cruel on them. He reads it now; understanding dawning and his throat tightening in empathy, he tries to swallow it away but the thought of finding something his mother had left just for him; is suffocating. He understands why both her and Sokka are tearing up. He’s struck with a sinking feeling as well; these must have come from the raid; from the day she was killed. Zuko feels a little sick but brushes it aside for now; his friend's happiness comes first. In addition to the fact he has a party to attend in a few hours and refusing would be seen as rude at the least and an act of war at the very worst.

Support My Writing?

#zuko #katara #zutara #toph #toph beifong #toph x aang #aang #suki #uncle iroh #iroh #avatar the last airbender #avatar #how i became yours #hiby #hiby rewrite #buckle up guys this is gonna be a massive shit show #writing #avatar fanfiction #zutara week #im so hype for this like y'all dont even know #i have a whole plan for this #its gonna be so good

[purplexiasphinx]

The list of OC facts no one asked for...

Aya, @big-sis-neko

Insomniac

Very insecure

Has enough trauma to fill a book series if she so wished

Absolutely overprotective

A liiiiittle bit possessive

Touch-starved but hates it when strangers touch her

Trust issues through the ROOF

Might punch you if you ask her to say 'Nya'

Doesn't know how to properly date

Nightmares

Her first name means 'Flower'

Likes to draw

Constantly busy

Mean, but cares.

Very gay, and very angsty.

Somehow, she's a tsundere and a yandere all wrapped up in one cute fuzzy lil' package.

Doesn't like to drink, gets flirty when she's drunk.

Favorite color is purple, acts like it's pink solely to throw people off.

Can honestly genuinely cry at any moment

Gods help you if you grab her without warning

I won't help identify the body if you touch her ass without her permission

Owns a baseball bat, named it Lucille in honor of TWD

Favorite anime is Fairy Tail, because of Erza.

Has a mom voice, is not afraid to use it.

Will help you get your shit together while she's a complete mess

Is a hypocrite, will tell you to be healthy then eat nothing but an apple over the course of three days.

Is a whole mess

Needs someone to take care of her sometimes but refuses help

Has honestly been very disillusioned with life and humanity

Covered in scars, both physical and mental.

Hates all cat-related nicknames, has heard them all and is done.

If she flirts back consider yourself lucky

Can't stand the sight or smell of fish

Has been beaten with a fish

Why?

People suck

Average height...

Strong girl

Will fight you

Knows actual fighting techniques

Can and will probably kick your ass

Has a weakness for redheads

Done With Your Shit™

*ARACHNOPHOBIA INTENSIFIES*

Aki, @your-neko-friend

Is a brony

Hides the fact that he's a brony

Too pure for this world

Sweet baby

Knows how to fight

Is also a pacifist

Very protective

Sadness? What sadness? Nothing but smiles!

Absolutely a joyous ball of trauma and suppressed anxiety

Doesn't know when to just say 'No' or 'Stop'

Very polite

Puts everyone else above himself

Would sacrifice every chance he had at happiness to make other people happy

Does, when he has the chance

Doesn't like being treated like a child

Is a shota

Birthday is December 28th

G a y

Bless his heart

Loves flower crowns

Makes flower crowns for everyone

Smol boi

Almost 18???

How???

Baby boy-

Will make up a nickname for everyone in his contacts list and find an appropriate emoji for them but never show anyone

Wears MLP pyjamas without regret

Is actually just a really careful person

Also has no self preservation instinct

He can handle a knife, but someone keep him away from the windowless van promising candy

Has a HUGE sweet tooth

Loves cuddles

Is a big hugger

Doesn't understand romantic love

Has had a lot of boyfriends, surprisingly???

Mostly because he will NOT let someone kiss him without dating them first

It's a rule

Has never initiated a kiss

Would rather cuddle

Sensitive tail

Pls gentle

High pain tolerance, but he's got so much trauma it doesn't matter he'll fall apart anyways

Hates being called 'kitty'

Can't stand the smell of fish

Has been beaten with a fish before

Hates that he has to rely on people

Secretly a very sad boi

Positivity to the MAX

Always looks for the bright side

Will never leave someone that looks like they need help

Strong boi

Short boi (Under 5')

Very much a sub

Will purr if you pet his ears

CUTE

Lowkey a Pokèmon fan, but tends to only watch the anime.

NOT a gamer, but will play if you ask or offer.

IS CHUB

Bonus! The names in Aki's contact list (Across all RPs, cuz why not? You'll get to know the names of the other OCs he knows~)

Real name: Ash

Aki's contact for him: Ketchum 💕

*

Real name: Layz

Aki's contact for them: 🥦 (Due to drama and boi's lack of proper coping mechanisms, he'd changed the old name (Boyfriend 🥦) but hadn't taken the time to make a new nickname because he ended up crying every time.)

*

Real name: Aya

Aki's contact for her: Big Sis Aya 💮

*

Real name: Joyce

Aki's contact for him: Sweetest 🎶

*

Real name: Eli

Aki's contact for him: Darling❣

*Someone who USED TO be on Aki's contacts list...

TONY!

Aki didn't have much time when he was making the contact, so it was simply "Tony❤"

But that number is blocked now.

*Fun fact, Aki has dated/is currently dating everyone on this list besides his sister in some RP or another.

Brie, @miss-brie-phillips

Is the big gay but pretends not to be

Is very religious

Has asthma

Tries to help

Vv easily startled

Has a big crush on her coworker

Works with Aya

Refuses to ask for help

Is gay panic incarnate

Has several siblings

Constantly terrified someone will find out she's gay

Constantly terrified in general

Will cry at the drop of a hat

Not very physically strong

Or mentally

The two people she trusts most in the world are very gay

Very insecure

VERY pretty

Has only dated guys, never kissed anyone yet

Gets nauseous at the thought of being intimate with a guy

How do her parents not know she's gay yet???

Generally unhappy with her life but will pretend everything is fine

Working to afford her own place

Very devoted

Jaime, @nothereforyourbullshit

Incredibly protective

Also Done With Your Shit™

Gay as hell

Possessive of his boyfriends

Not in too big a way, but

Might just hit someone if they flirt with his guy

Plays guitar

Knows where to hide a body

Has a tattoo of a cross on the back of his neck

OCD, but has learned to live with it.

Is a killer bartender AND barista

Charismatic!

Came from a very religious family

Very aware that his closeted sister is gay but will never tell anyone, because he loves her and he knows it'll fuck up her life

Also not on the best of terms with his sister but will protect her no matter what

Rest of his family?

They'll get help if they ask, but they never would.

And he knows it

Has awful nightmares

Is a big cuddler

Hell

Physical contact is a must

Is a great cook and loves cooking for people

That is exactly why he will never be a chef

Has a LOT of fun making straight dudes question their sexuality

Won't deny it

Will not flirt with someone else if he's in a relationship

Half the time he jumps from guy to guy

His type consists of trouble

Needs someone to help him deal with his shit instead of ignoring when he clearly needs help

Probably will never get that person because he's drawn to the guys that'll fuck up his life

Has never even considered using his guitar skills as a source of income???

Bonus, a few about @maaya-kaori cuz I just realized I have nothing but my community of gays up here

Aroace

My friendzone bab!

Is a singer (Technically my Vocaloid/UTAUloid OC)

Has a sweetness that would rival Aki's

Doesn't understand flirting

Has accidentally broken so many hearts and has no idea

LOVES singing

Would never hurt anyone ever

Has played Undertale once, pacifist route start to finish, cried multiple times anyways.

Unironically believes Pokèmon is a terrible concept and teaches children to kidnap critters and force them to fight for money

Because one of her friends showed her a meme once, it was her fist time hearing of Pokèmon

Is actually only 16

#ocs #oc facts #Brie #Jaime #Aki #Aya #Kaori #very long post

[j2madhatters]

Why Padalecki marriage annoys me - non Tinhat perspective

I can safely say that never before has a marriage annoyed me as much as the Padalecki marriage.  Even the Ackles’ behavior is reasonable.  They don’t kiss and make out public because Jensen is not an exhibitionist sort.  I have never respect PDAs.  In my opinion, it is inappropriate.  But remember, I am not a tinhat so you can draw your own conclusions about why the Ackles don’t “display” their love in public.  There is nothing wrong with theorizing. 

Genevieve, and Jared [when he is in husband mode] just irritate me.  They oversell it.  In the beginning, I thought she was so lucky to have a husband like him.  He is so beautiful.  He’s so sensitive.  He earns well.  He is respected in his field.  Plus he cried on their wedding day.  How beautiful is that?  For years afterwards, he would gush over her during his panels.  At first, I smirked, then I became poker faced, then I became mildly annoyed and then one day [I even remember the panel] it just got too noticeably exhibitionist.  It was the last question.  Timothy Omundson was called on stage, pretending to be the last question.  And he comically fangirled uncontrollably before perching himself on the designated chair.  His question was “who is your favourite guest star, and why is it Timothy Omundsom?’‘  It was a funny question, and Jensen went with it, saying that he was a fan of Omundson’s beard, which caused Robbie to throw a faux hissy fit because he had a beard too, darn it.  But Jensen pointed out that his beard was pathetic because it was short and he couldn’t braid it.  After the laugh fest, Jared gave his answer:  ’'My favorite guest star is Gen, because she’s my wife and the mother of my children”. 

For some reason, that is pissed me right off.  It was a funny question.  It didn’t warrant a serious, gushy husband reply.  Some witless creature made a mistake of pointing this out, in the comment section.  The entire page converged on her.  Even people who had initially agreed with her, backtracked.  I felt angry at this fandom's self-censoring.  I realized she was over loved, not because of any personal merit, but because she married Jared.  They were calling her a queen.  Seriously?  A queen.  For what?  So I went on the internet to see if I was the only weird person who couldn’t detect her monarchical merits. 

That was last year-ish.  How do you think I stumbled onto tinhats.  I like most hats because it seems they don't conform to the politically correct norm of ’'treat the wives like gold’’.  And they don’t ask tinhat questions during panels.  Unlike the leeches who love destiel and Misha Collins.  Jared was becoming too extra when it came to Genevieve.  And I noticed he inserted an obligatory Gen mention at least once, in every single panel.  Even after seven years, he was far too “in love”.  And eventually, instead of being happy for their happiness, I started feel like they were rubbing their domestic bliss in everyone’s face.  “look at what we’ve got, nyah nyah nyah.’'  My polite and genuine [but not over the top] respect for their marriage dissipated.

You know who he reminded me off.  He reminded me of Tom Cruise when he was a guest on Oprah and was over pushing the epic love he had for Katie Holmes, jumping on the couch and fist pumping the air.  That incident, I found humorous and embarrassing.  This was plain irritating.  I noticed he’s slowed down now.  The unnecessary wife mentions sometimes don’t even make an appearance, for which I am thankful.  I wonder why though.  Unless he is telling a story that she is a part of, like the Highway story, he doesn’t mention her anymore.  My non tinhat guess is that he was aware that fans were getting pissed off, especially since, he had mentioned something about her in a panel recently [I don’t remember which one], and someone in the front row said:  We know! 

Another thing I don’t like about this relationship is Genevieve intruding on fan space.  If people are paying bucket loads to see their favorite actor, unless they specifically ask for a guest appearance by the actor’s wife, don’t intrude.  Once, Genevieve appeared on stage, during a J2 panel, to contribute something unnecessary to the story they were recounting.  I think it was the highway story.  Then she made sure she kissed him before leaving, while the crowd watched.  Why?  She added nothing fresh to the story, and couldn’t she wait to leave the stage, to kiss her husband.  She isn’t paying to see her husband.  The fans are.  Don’t take that precious time away from them. 

And I noticed, she usually sits at the side of the stage, overseeing the whole exchange.  As far as I know, Danneel hasn’t done that yet.  Why the need to loom over the proceedings?  Does she love to hear him talk?  That reminds me of the livestream they did, where he was talking and she mouthed ’'blah blah blah’' while making a mocking hand gesture, because apparently he was talking too much.  So obviously Jared’s yammering doesn’t entertain her.  

Then at Jib, she got to join the panel.  I didn’t fault her for attending because apparently the previous year, he had gotten sick and didn’t make the con.  I assumed she was there for moral support.  I am a non hatter so that is my analysis.  You cant of course, explain your perspective.  But that doesn’t mean she needs to be on stage.  For what?  Its not like she did something spectacular whilst there.  Rob, Rich and Jared had to take over the discussion because she was so dull.  Eventually even Jensen joined in, revved the crowd up even further, and left.  One of her fan girls complained that the boys ’'didn’t even let her speak”.  Thank goodness they didn’t.  

She is inserting herself between Jared and the fan, and now people are forced to be enthusiastic about her.  Its so unfair.  It almost seems like Genevieve wants shared custody of the fans.  That is not how fame works.  You earn it.  You don’t inherit it.  I started to get more and more annoyed with being forced, [by all of fandom, I thought] to go crazy over some woman, I could care less for.  She wasn’t impressive as fake Ruby.  And I was not the only one who thought so.  Cassidy was a bland actor, in my humble opinion.  Genevieve was worse. 

The only reason she didn’t fade into oblivion, like all the other female actors, is because she married Jared.  There was a blog called anti-Genevieve on Tumblr, that received a lawyers letter to cease and desist, because of defamation of character.  Its her right to safeguard her reputation, so no problem there, especially if the blog is over malicious without proof or facts.  I did visit the site.  But I don’t remember seeing anything horrible other than her being called a beard.  But it has been a while so maybe I just forgot.  

However,  there is another blog called Supernatural Snark.  Almost the entire blog bashes Jared for everything that comes out of his mouth.  One day, an ask about Jensen’s weird behavior at Jibcon, illicited an odd response from the blogger.  The asker said that Jensen’s breakdown was Misha, Jared and the destiheller’s fault because Misha queerbaits his fans, Jared teases destiel and the fans abused Jensen on Twitter after Jaxcon.  She said Jensen was trying to pacify the fans.  The blogger said that it didn’t make sense for Jensen to wait six months to pacify the fans.  Then she disabled the comment so the asker couldn’t respond.  Of course, even I know he waited six months, because he shares no other panel with Misha.  That’s when I realized that Supernatural Snark is a heller blog. 

How come Genevieve doesn’t send a cease and desist lawyer’s letter to this witch.  I think I know why.  She only looked for anti stuff about herself on the net and that’s how she found this page.  If she was looking for anti Jared blogs, she would have found Supernatural Snark.  The Minute Maid commercial and her words in it were a little incentive.  She said she was making so many sacrifices.  Well missy, bundle up your babies and buzz off to Vancouver.  You husband is not gone off to war.  You are sacrificing nothing. 

She doesn’t seem to care for him.  She doesn’t care about his campaign.  She never tags AFK for anything.  She tags Random Acts, though.  The thing that makes my blood boil, on a personal level, is that she claims that she also suffers from depression.  As a bipolar sufferer myself, the one trend I noticed is that when people are impatient with me, and I point out that I have bipolar disorder, they quickly say that they also suffer from depression, so they don’t look bad.  Since when does she have depression.  Because if she did, she wouldn’t ignore her husband’s campaign that is supposed to help people like her.  Is she sharing in her husband’s sympathy the same way she is sharing his fame? 

She has diehard fans on Instagram.  One of them is Ivana.  Ivana gushily asked Genevieve to sign her name so that Ivana could have it tattooed.  I was surprised.  When did Gen become a rockstar?  Then I realized that Ivana has her own SM page where she says she is ITK and best buds with Genevieve.  So she knows that Jared abuses his wife and neglects his children.  Ivana is a heller.  Her best friend Lua James [@Poptivist on Twitter], led a smear campaign against J2 for the Nolacon joke.  Her followers are the ones that made this problem reach MSM.  And J2 had to apologize, publicly, for nothing.  That is ok, because what Lua and gang were initially hoping for was for separates for the boys' panels, so that Jared wouldn’t be near Jensen.  Genevieve is making herself the whip with which hellers can beat Jared.

And both Ivana and Lua cornered Danneel at one con to tell her how everyone hated her, except them.  That was their snide contribution to tinhat hate.  Danneel signed Poptivist’s SPN magazine, with the caption:  “He is mine, bitches”… something inappropriate like that.  Danneel was wrong for writing that.  I noticed she fights with Jensen’s fans a lot.  Ungracious.  Lua is so toxic that she needs a guard at the cons, supplied by Creation to keep an eye on her.  WTF!!!  I always wondered why she wasn’t just excluded, but I think it’s because she is friends with a Creation staff member who also happens to be Misha’s relative.  And because she is a Misha fan girl, she gets to stay. 

That’s why Misha’s face appears on the main posters with J2, despite him not being a lead.  Because he is related to staff.    The wives have no fans, but I think Genevieve’s ego is in denial.  Her intellect isn’t, which is why Jared’s appears in her vlogs.  He is the deal sealer for her.  One day this pompousness is going to backfire on Gen.  I hope she figures that out one day. 

APOLOGIES FOR ANOTHER LONG POST.  I HOPE YOU DONT MIND.

Thank you for your submission, I’ve always wondered what non-hats make of the OTT parade and the wife stanning.

#submission #go-diane-winchester

[jbuffyangel]

Do you think they are low key assassinating John Diggle’s character to make NTA and BS look better and have a purpose? His arc last season and the beginning of this one has started to make me resent him and I hate it because he was one of my absolute favs. It kinda sounds like BS helps get Oliver out of prison because she’s the DA and I just can’t believe that even she would be more loyal to him and Felicity than JOHN FREAKING DIGGLE. I hope he starts making sense soon. I hate his storyline😔💔

This is probably not going to be a popular response, but… no I don’t think they are assassinating John’s character to help prop the Newbies and Bl*ck S*ren.

I think it’s really important not to put characters on a pedestal. They have to be allowed to make mistakes. Characters can be unlikable when they are making mistakes. I know Diggle has been the moral compass on Arrow and his behavior of late is extremely challenging. It’s okay to not like a character when they are acting in an unlikable way.

However, it’s okay for John not to be perfect all the time. It’s okay with me that he screws up. I’m also okay being angry with him over those mistakes. I have zero doubts he will step onto the right path again, but I am okay with Arrow exploring this storyline with John.

Sometimes I feel like it’s okay to get angry with Oliver, Bl*ck S*ren and the Newbies, but it’s not okay to ever be angry with Diggle and Felicity. This is just how I feel sometimes. It doesn’t mean it’s true. 

Felicity and Diggle are human like everyone else. They will make mistakes. I feel it’s important for me as a viewer to leave room for those mistakes. I need to leave room for the humanity in Diggle and Felicity. They won’t always react the way I think they should. They won’t always make the right calls.

I firmly believe issues have been building with Diggle for years. Pretty much since Season 4. 

The Newbies and Bl*ck S*ren weren’t even part of the show then. John quit Team Arrow when the Newbies were being total ass hats. His issues with Oliver had very little to do with the Newbies and zero to do with Bl*ck S*ren.

John is going through something else entirely. He is looking for his place in the world because he feels displaced. I’m really not kidding around when I call it a mid life crisis. So much of John’s purpose was wrapped up in saving Oliver Queen. 

His question in Season 6 was where does he go now that Oliver is saved? 

I think some of his fatalistic approach to Oliver being lost to them forever is, in part, because John feels like he lost Oliver long before prison.

We can say, “John you are crazy and Oliver still needs you. PARTICULARLY NOW THAT HIS WIFE AND CHILD ARE UNDER THREAT,” but it doesn’t mean John knows that. It doesn’t mean John is in a position to truly understand it. I think the character is really lost without Oliver in a lot of ways. I think John has been lost for a long time.

I wrote a meta on this not long ago called the “The Ascension of Oliver Queen and Descension of John Diggle.”  I encourage you to read it Anon. I map out the direction I think these characters are going, but I’ll go through some of it here.

The show is slowly going through a monumental shift. It’s no longer going to be entirely about Oliver’s screw ups and saving his soul. We are watching Oliver retain all his goodness, all the lessons he’s learned over the past 10 years, during his time, at Slabside. 

Old Oliver would spiral into darkness after being cut off from Felicity and Diggle for a day. He’s not killing in prison even though he’s absolutely justified to do so. He isn’t skinning men alive.Oliver has mostly solved problems with his morality in tact. Oliver retaining his light in prison, on his own,  without Diggle and Felicity holding his hand, is unbelievably important. 

The whole show is about OLIVER becoming a superhero. Well… we’re pretty damn close. He’s not a full cooked turkey yet, but we’re getting there! If Oliver is nearing a fully realized superhero then it means the moral compass on the show is HIM. It’s not about Diggle telling him right from wrong anymore. It’s about Oliver knowing right from wrong.

This gives John’s character a freedom he’s never had before. Diggle couldn’t screw up because Oliver was a disaster zone. John had to reign Oliver in or else there’d be corpses up and down Star City. Diggle had to be on a righteous path in order to direct Oliver there. Otherwise, Oliver would have turned into Prometheus.

But now Oliver is doing a damn fine job taking care of himself on his own. A lot of that is causing John’s spiral. That said, Diggle can screw up without Oliver becoming a disaster. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. The more Diggle screws up, the more lost he becomes, the more he needs Oliver Queen’s help. It’s a reverse of their relationship. The bond remains the same. However, it’s Oliver’s turn to save John. I think Diggle has earned that.

So, it means I have to give his character the same room I gave Oliver. If I allowed Oliver to screw up massively and do stupid things, then I have to allow Diggle the same humanity. If Oliver didn’t always do the right thing then Diggle doesn’t always have to either. They start at opposite ends of the spectrum, but Oliver and Diggle’s journey is ultimately one in the same. They’ll end up in the same spot, but it doesn’t preclude either character from messing up along the way.

John’s reaction to Felicity and Diaz is frustrating. But in Diggle’s defense he believes A.R.G.U.S. is the best way to capture Diaz. He’s not prepared to go off book like Felicity is. Is he wrong? YES. But Diggle’s decision is backed up by a lot of of his previous actions. 

John left Team Arrow because he no longer had purpose. He thought his new purpose would be Green Arrow. He wanted to slot B (be Oliver) in for A (save Oliver) and boom he’s good to go. Oliver didn’t give up the hood though and it triggered quite an angry reaction from John. One that’s been brewing since Andy died. 

Diggle walked away from the team then too. He re enlisted in the army. When John is feeling lost he doubles down on rules, regulations and structure. He leaves the world of living outside the law, the world of Oliver Queen, behind. 

It’s the same with leaving Team Arrow. John left vigilante life behind and doubled down on being the good solider only this time at A.R.G.U.S. His hesitancy to go outside the rules of A.R.G.U.S. to help Felicity are extremely in line with where his character ended last season. This isn’t something the Arrow writers are going to drop. John’s arc isn’t over. 

John admitted to Felicity he’s scared. He knows everything being a vigilante cost Oliver and Diggle doesn’t have it in him to risk the same. John isn’t prepared to go to prison, be without his wife and child, for the sake of the hood. Diggle is merely admitting he doesn’t have the same drive as Oliver. 

The writers aren’t trying to cast Diggle in a bad light for the sake of the Newbies and Bl*ck S*ren. The writers are drawing a distinction between Oliver Queen and John Diggle. What makes Oliver Queen a superhero? Why is Oliver Queen worthy of the hood? Oliver is prepared to lose everything and John is not. It doesn’t make John a bad man. It makes him human. Superheroes are next level human. They do things and sacrifice things most people in their right minds would never do.

Does that mean John won’t be a superhero as Spartan? No. John admitted his fears wearing the hood. He said no. It also has to make him question if he’s really cut out for vigilante life at all - including Spartan. However, simply because this is where John is at now doesn’t mean this is where he will end up.

I don’t agree Diggle would never turn his back on Felicity Smoak. He’s left the team before. Diggle has isolated himself from both Oliver and Felicity. He was prepared to spend his life in jail, separated from his wife and child. 

If Diggle can walk away from his wife and son then he can walk from anyone. But we have to look at his state of mind when he made those decisions. Diggle wasn’t in a good place mentally.

I don’t believe he’s in a good place mentally now. Maybe he’s keeping up appearances better under that A.R.G.U.S. uniform, but I still think he’s on a downward slope. More importantly, I don’t believe John is looking at it like he’s turned his back on Felicity. He’s trying to catch Diaz same as her, but Diggle doesn’t want to do it Felicity’s way. 

Yes, he’s wrong. Yes, he’s Pod Diggle. Yes, I am angry at him. Yes, I will drag him in reviews. I’ve done all of that with Oliver too. But do Diggle’s  actions seem out of the blue or out of line to me given where I see the character at this point? No. This feels like the next progression in his arc.

As far as The Newbies, yeah we have some helping Felicity and some not. Rene has to help Felicity. If he doesn’t the writers might as well kill him. Rene refusing to help is full character assassination. The only way for Rene to remain on this show is to help Felicity. But I’m not giving him points since he caused the problem. 

I really don’t see that having anything to do with Diggle. In a lot of ways, John believes he’s honoring Oliver’s sacrifice by playing by the rules. He’s still helping the city, but legally. This all fits with where John’s mind is at regarding vigilantism. 

Curtis and Dinah have helped sparingly, but not to the level I think both characters should help, since they are also a large part of the reason Oliver is in prison. Nothing they’ve done has really secured any significant redemption in my eyes. By the same token, those actions have neither positively or negatively impact Diggle’s character.

As for Bl*ck S*ren, she’s out for herself. She wants revenge on Diaz. She’s not helping because she wants Oliver and Felicity to reunite and make all kinds of babies. Diaz killed Quentin and she wants to kill Diaz. I say, “Faster pussy cat kill kill,” but I don’t think her motivations are purely focused on helping Felicity. So again no points from me.

If the stars line up and Bl*ck S*ren’s motivations and Felicity’s motivations meld then great. I’m Team Help Felicity. Is there a chance I’ll be happier with Bl*ck S*ren’s character than John’s? Yes, we are living in the Upside Down because John himself is upside down. He’s going to need Oliver’s help to see the world clearly again.

#asks #john diggle #oliver queen #arrow #arrow spoilers #john diggle meta #oliver queen meta #oliver and diggle #Anonymous #anti black siren #anti rene ramirez #anti newbies #anti dinah drake #anti curtis holt

[lazyheretic-blog]

Flip Side

The droning voices threaten to send him to sleep, but he's familiar with the beating that will earn him. He concentrates very hard on the glittering motes of dust that spin lazily in and out of the thin streams of light filtering through the screened windows. He imagines he can follow the journey of one individual as it's buffeted by updraughts of a wind he cannot feel. The heat is stifling; he wishes he were a dancing mote that didn't have to wear robes and a stupid hat and could ride the breeze. If he were, he thinks, he would try his best to land in Adminstrator Park's eye so he had to break ceremony and rub it.

He giggles, and realises his mistake. Park doesn't even look at him but the room seems to become much darker. He can see Park's nostrils flaring, a sure sign of his anger, even though his face remains impassive and the tone of his voice, expressionless and dry as he dictates tributes and taxes, never wavers. The boy shivers, despite the oppressive heat.

Park never beats him. It's always one of the women, a concu-something that the six-year-old hasn't figured out a role for, other than whipping him with a thin bamboo cane around his thighs. It's a crime to hit the king, of course; the real punishment comes afterwards with the ragged cry, gush of blood and the hideous tearing noise as a soldier slits their bellies open in front of him. If he doesn't watch properly, eyes wide open, he gets another beating. There's always a second woman in the room.

It only had to happen once. Now, he watches like a king as royal justice is dispensed in his name.

"See, your Majesty," Park tells him. "These loyal women sacrifice much in order to further your education. In a few years you will learn what else they can teach you. She will be reincarnated and will be pleased to rejoin their number to serve you."

He doesn't know why he feels sad at their deaths. It's only temporary, right? Their pain is fleeting and their reward is great. But the look on her face as she writhes in front of him, a girl only a few years older than he is, just makes him want to scream and hide. The soldiers scare him too, the ceremonial guards with covered faces and shining, bloody swords.

There's only one who doesn't. Gerralkim's been his friend since before he can remember and it's still easier for his tongue to wrap itself around the name he gave before he was properly articulate, but the tall man who kneels down to his level when he speaks to him doesn't seem to mind. He's never told Gerralkim about the beatings but when he's finally allowed to flee, the man's quarters are his preferred destination. He's not always there, but Wang Yeo has a child's active imagination.

This time, he's sitting cross-legged at his low lacquered desk, penning a letter in slow, deliberate strokes of a bamboo-handled brush. He half turns and smiles as the boy approaches him to watch characters form under the bristles.

Yeo finds it calming. Watching this is never dull, unlike sitting in the audience chamber, and he can pick out some of the meaning.

"Who are you writing to?" He asks, wide eyed.

The general smiles at him. He's a young man, younger than Park, perhaps twenty five at most. Years in the sun and in battle have darkened his skin and etched fine lines of worry between his brows and around his mouth. Unlike the officials he wears his hair down, dark waves falling off his shoulders and roughly cut shorter at the front. Today, he's wearing a pale cotton robe, wrapped at the front and belted. Yeo is relived he's not dressed as a soldier.

"I'm writing a letter to my father," he explains. "Remember my report to Administrator Park two days ago, about the battle against the Qidan?"

Yeo does. He always pays attention to General Kim, even though the thought of battle scares him. He nods.

"Well, my father worries about me. I write to tell him that I am unhurt and victorious."

"I worry about you too," the boy says seriously. "It would cause me sorrow if you got hurt."

Kim Shin grins, and ruffles his hair with a large, calloused hand, stained with ink. "You shouldn't worry about me. If anything happened, I would write you a letter so you would be the first to know."

"Of course. I am the king," the boy replies, all innocent and pompous, just as he should be. "But you should wait until I have learned all my letters, so I can write back by myself."

General Kim bows from the waist, arms folded in front of him. "It would be the utmost honour, your Majesty."

"Who's that?" asks the boy suddenly, pointing to a charcoal drawing of a woman and a young girl.

Kim pulls it towards them and straightens it between his hands. "That's my mother, and my little sister, Kim Sun. She's about your age."

Yeo studies it intently. It's an unusual drawing, life-like and untutored and utterly different to the heavily stylised scrolls hanging around the palace. He's drawn to the smiling faces of the little girl and the woman, shining with a happiness he's not used to seeing.

"She's pretty," he murmurs. "I want to meet her." He's never had playmates, wouldn't know what to do with them, but he yearns to see that beaming smile for himself.

"I'll let you in on a secret," Kim says solemnly. "Can you keep it?"

He's used to keeping secrets. Unconsciously he shifts and his bruised thighs protest. The stinging is turning to a profound aching, deep in his bones. He nods.

"Your half-brother, Wang Gang, willed it that you should marry my little sister when you grow up. What do you think?"

Yeo pretends to mull it over seriously, but can't keep the shock and delight off his face. "I can visit her?" Maybe, just maybe, there's a place Park doesn't have all the power.

"It's a bit far," the big man says. "The king should stay safe in the palace. She will come to you when she's twelve, and be trained how to look after you as a good wife and Queen." His face grew serious. "But don't tell anyone that you know, your Majesty. I don't think Administrator Park likes me very much."

He knows it's true. He's a sensitive child, schooled to be quiet, and taught by experience to read the unspoken language around him. He knows that Park hates the warrior like no other, but his close friendship with the previous king and his victories make him popular with the army. Apart from the handpicked palace guard, regular soldiers distrust civil servants like Park. He worries his lip as he considers the girl. The thought of her being beaten or treated like the other women is even more scary than what he endures.

He thinks he's hiding it, but he's transparent to an adult. Kim says, gently, "You and I will protect her. I promise."

"Tell me about her," the young king commands.

"She loves persimmons, fresh or dried. My father's last letter describes how she refused to eat anything else for a whole week, even when they made her ill."

"Persimmons make you ill?" He was doubtful.

"Anything can make you ill if you eat too much of it. Diet must be balanced."

"Tell me more."

"She feeds my horse persimmons, too, when she thinks I'm not looking."

Yeo was entranced. What freedom! "Did he get ill?"

"No, he just got fat. I scolded him for being so greedy but he didn't care."

Park hears their laughter, and scowls.

----------

The week Kim spends in the palace is the most fun he's ever had. Park doesn't dare threaten him when Kim's around, tall and imposing and cloaked in authority. His soldiers rest in the barracks, and sometimes Yeo sneaks over to listen to them sing and tell stories before he's inevitably discovered and carried back by Kim. They know interesting words, and talk about things he's curious to see; the ocean, barbarians on little ponies with tattoos, legends of gods he doesn't know.

Kim plays little tricks on him, pulling cards and coins out of his hair or from behind his ears, making him giggle with delight. Yeo uses his tall hat to scoop out a squiggle of tadpoles from the inner palace pond and dumps it in Kim's basin. He watches, wedged inside a tall chest and peeks through the hinge gap, as Kim bends to splash his face before the midday meal, and gasps in exaggerated horror at the squirming water. That earns him a rough capture and a serious and slightly painful head rub, until he's wriggling as hard as the little creatures in the sink.

Kim has to steal him a new hat.

But weeks come to quick ends, especially the best ones. He mopes in the doorway as a servant packs Gerralkim's traveling trunk, and the general dons his armour.

"A king shouldn't pout like that," Kim gently chides him. "You must be strong, no matter what."

"Must you go already?"

"I must. One of your towns in the North has been attacked, and I have to go protect the people there. Then I must retaliate so it never happens again."

"Will you kill people?" He asks in a sniffling whisper, the pink Cupid's Bow of his lips quivering.

Kim sighs. He can protect the young monarch from many things while he's there, but the realities of rule, and the war that allows it to continue, are hard truths the king must face. The servant finishes, and carries the trunk outside.

Kim bends down and kneels in front of the boy. "Yeo," he says seriously, using the given name reserved only for parents and close family he's technically forbidden from. He does it anyway in private sometimes, because he knows that it makes Yeo feel safe. "I won't lie to you. I have to kill lots of people to protect our own. We live in dangerous times, and if we don't kill our enemies, they might come and kill us. That town has children in it, so I have to go and make sure they don't come to any harm. Please understand."

Yeo nods. It's easier to accept when stated simply like that. Park sometimes tells him that General Kim kills in his name, as if Yeo's responsible; maybe he is, but he didn't ask for it.

Kim pulls him unceremoniously into a last rough hug, and holds him close until the child stops shaking.

----------

He's away for several years. His letters, delivered by suspicious-eyed warriors, tell of continuing unrest and the need for more soldiers at the front. After a while, they dwindle in frequency and no longer go directly to him; Park receives them first. Yeo is shocked when Park passes along a blood stained scroll in shaky handwriting detailing a massacre of a barbarian village, women and children subjected to torture and worse before being burned alive. Park says, nonchalantly, that Kim's acting on his own; that orders have been sent to have mercy on the barbarians, but the people of Goryeo call for revenge, and General Kim gives them what they want.

Yeo doesn't know what to think about this, but he's not given time to consider; when there's a botched attempt on his life by one of the couriers, the palace is locked down and he's placed under armed guard permanently. His food is tasted, his servants are replaced, and Park himself moves into the annex of the king's quarters.

"Your Majesty," Park tells him, a week after the attempt. "We cannot, of course, be sure that General Kim sought to take your life. It is true that the people are starting to worship him as a second sun in the sky, but we should not be hasty in judgement. Please have patience and mercy until the truth is revealed."

Yeo's mind is foggy, a result of sleepless nights and the restless paranoia of his guards. It's all he can do to sit straight on the hard throne, and at the age where his bones sometimes feel like they are breaking and knotting themselves back together constantly, he's rarely inclined to introspection.

He's twelve just before he sees Kim again, walking alongside the palanquin containing his new bride. It's a pretty box, carved but not lacquered like his own, carried by four stocky men. Not a commoner's carriage, but not royalty. Tradition forbids him from rising to greet them, and despite his constant fatigue he's eager for it to be over so he can take advantage of the freedom Kim's visit should bring.

He is disappointed. Hard-eyed guards keep them separated except in formal situations. He is desperate, bursting to ask so many questions, to ask if Kim tried to have him killed, why he sends his letters to Park now, why he has to kill children in the name of Goryeo. If Kim notices the pleading in his eyes he doesn't react to it, just stays his tongue and speaks formally, steady voice echoing in the audience chamber. Park keeps Yeo away from battle accounts, claiming that he should not sully his mind with the unnecessary details.

----------

It's well after Kim has left that the guards make an error of sorts. There's a commotion in the kitchens, the loud crash of celadon pots meeting an untimely end, and the guards reach for their swords, drawn to the sound. Yeo sweeps from the room before his servants can object and flees, followed by his indignant shadows, to the outer wall of his courtyard. The palace walls are low, barely taller than him at twelve years old, and he gets a leg up on an obliging flowerpot to peer over at the ladies' domain.

She's beautiful, is his first and only thought.

She's trying to walk with the grace of a queen, a small dish balanced on each of her shoulders, but her face is sort of squished up with the effort of concentration. Several pinch-faced women watch her, whispering to each other behind their long and loose sleeves. His heart goes out to her; she must feel judged, like he does. It looks hard, walking so straight over the uneven stone slabs, with that bunch of harridans silently laughing at you, in those tiny ridiculous shoes.

His hand grates over a stone; she looks up startled, and meets his eyes as the plates go crashing to the floor. She offers him a small, uncertain smile and he grins back, amused and confusingly aroused at her clumsiness.

Insistent, unwelcome hands help him down from the wall.

----------

Their wedding night, two years later, is the first time they get to speak in private. Unsure of what he's meant to actually be doing, the two young teenagers simply spend the time in their sleeping robes talking into the small hours of the morning.

She's terrified of Park. So is he, of course, but he's sworn to himself to protect her and he can't tell her the worst of it. Some things are his burdens to bear. So he instructs her to just do as Park tells her and he hopes with all his heart that this will be enough to keep her safe.

----------

She's too much like her brother, he realises as he matures into his fifteenth year. She's grown up with freedom and love and doesn't understand his kind of survival.

She shouts at him, "Why do you always side with Park? Is it too much to ask that I go outside these dark walls once before I die? The people are loyal, they love you. Nothing will happen to me!"

"Be quiet!" He hisses. "If Park hears you question him-" The room echoes with the sound of the chopstick snapping in her hands.

"I don't care what Park hears! You are the king, I am the queen! What does he matter?"

His mind whirls; images of bloody concubines and sharp swords crowd behind his eyes. The ghosts of pain around his lower body makes him tense. She has to submit; it's the only way she can survive. For her own good, he grabs her by her slight, narrow shoulders and pushes her into the floor pillows.

"I am the king," he growls in her face, his teeth grinding together with every word. "And you will obey me."

His breath is hot and stale, and his long pale fingers dig bruisingly into her flesh. From so close, she can see the tiny red veins in his eyes, dark-rimmed and intense. He's never been physical before, or hurt her in any way, so she's shocked at his sudden ferocity and can't find the right words to calm him down.

Still gripping her, he says quietly, "I can only protect you if you obey me."

She's still in shock, even after he releases her and steps back. His own heart is pounding loudly in his ears and he clenches and unclenches his fists to exorcise the tension.

"My brother," she says in a small voice. "He can protect us both. Call him back from war."

Yeo shakes his head. "He leads the army but too many of the men belong to Park now. Even if he came back, the palace guards would keep him out. He has to stay away. I can't protect him either, if he comes back."

It earns him a sniffle of temporary defeat, but he knows she's too stubborn to give in easily.

----------

It's checkmate, and he knows it, signing the order that will keep Kim Shin away from the capital for good. He's back for a brief respite, sanctioned by Park, though he doesn't know it, in return for the royal seal on that scroll. Yeo bargains for an audience alone, and gets it, but he knows there are ears and eyes in the walls.

Kim doesn't understand, but he doesn't have to. It's enough for Yeo that he's going away to be safe, because he has enough faith to know that Kim is unkillable in battle.

Through clenched teeth and on his knees, Kim accepts the sword that Yeo has had made for him. It has a tiger on the hilt, because that's how Yeo thinks of him; ferocious, graceful, and gentle.

Kim thanks him through gritted teeth. His parting words are cold and sarcastic. Yeo's heart breaks as he speaks, equally coldly, of his coming sorrow at Kim's death, praying silently, fervently, that it will be many years before coming. He desperately wants a last embrace from the man he thinks of as his only friend, and tells himself that his life is the only thing that matters.

----------

In the middle of winter, he finds out that Kim has disobeyed him. He rushes to Sun's rooms, intent that somehow she can write and dissuade him from his self-destructive path. In the presence of the servant-spies, he calls Kim a traitor, acid burning his throat at the lie.

He knows she loves him, but she's far braver than he is.

----------

As General Kim Shin approaches the heavy wooden double gates, the court waits in silence within. Behind Park, Yeo sits beside Sun, close but no more able to touch her than reach the moon. She is staring straight ahead, back ramrod straight, breathing a little too fast. As the gates swing open she rushes forward and halts at the top of the stone steps when the archers draw their bows in unison, the creaking of strings the only noise in the icy courtyard.

Kim ignores Park; his eyes flick between Yeo and his sister's as he approaches, slowly, wearily, his lieutenant at his heels. He's wearing only his black padding, no armour; he's got the sword Yeo gave him but no means of defending himself.

Yeo's heart gives a painful twist. He doesn't really hear what's being said, but there's nothing he can do to stop what he knows is coming when Sun takes an arrow to the chest and tumbles, soundlessly, to the ground. Around them, bodies fall. The screams reach him curiously delayed, muted as though underwater.

As the gifted sword is driven through his friend's chest, he finally crumbles, and flees.

----------

The years that follow are lifeless and grey, as though that winter day never came to an end. The decoction tea Park sends him every day is numbing and he welcomes the oblivion it brings him each night. His second wife has somehow conceived a child; he doesn't know how, and he can't even recall her face or name, so he doesn't care. The servants stay away from him except for necessities; dressing, eating and bathing. His presence is rarely required in the throne room.

Park takes care of all that.

He's still got that charcoal drawing in a secret drawer, now yellowed and smudged with old tears. On his better days he pulls it out and takes a cathartic comfort in the fresh guilt it brings; he craves the crying, the cramps, the nails he digs into his palms until they bleed.

He draws, seeking a nameless meaning in his work. He mainly draws Kim Shin as he remembers him, tall and dependable, strong enough to conquer the world and carry it on his shoulders.

Sun evades him, as if refusing to materialise on paper out of spite. She is clear in his mind's eye but his hands shake too much.

In his thirtieth year, enough decoction tea to kill him in burning agony keeps his hands steady enough to finally capture her.

#goblin #dokkaebi #도깨비

[tyranttortoise]

Fell Underwater

Soooo, for Day 9, I wrote something that I’ve wanted to write for a while!  It’s a small one-shot drabble of me doing some world-building on an AU I’ve had on the backburner for a while.  It’s pretty much Oceanfell, I suppose, but mine doesn’t really follow any of my standard Oceantale headcanons, so maybe Fell Underwater?  Or Ty’s Oceanfell?

-shrug-

Either way, it’s got pirate skeletons.  

I did quite a bit of world-building before I got to the smut, so I’m going to post all the SFW bits here, with a link to continue reading on Ao3 at the bottom.  Hope you guys enjoy!  It’s the first thing I’ve written with a legitimate AU and AU Sans that’s mine.  

You’d always had terrible luck.

If something could go wrong, it couldn’t just go wrong for you; no, it’d be a disaster.

That’s why you saw it coming. The Raffle occurred every seven years, after all. When you came of age to be put into it, you tried to run – to move away from the coastal city you despised – but they dragged you back, kicking and screaming. Your name had been entered thrice as punishment, but somehow, you miraculously didn’t get pulled.

You knew your luck wouldn’t last, however. You knew it, and yet, you weren’t able to leave the city, your infraction pushing back your request until after the next Raffle. And when they called your name that time, along with six others, you weren’t surprised in the slightest. When they forced you to stand along the coastline, dressed in your best attire, you didn’t wail or whine like the others. No, you impassively stood there, glaring at the crashing waves and cursing the fact that you’d been born beneath a terrible omen.

When the pirate ship rose from the depths of the murky water, sporting a Jolly Roger sail and a skull with flashing red eyes affixed to the bow like a demon rising from hell, you sucked in a breath and put on a brave face. When literal skeleton pirates disembarked from their vessel and began examining the sacrifices, trying to pick out which one had the strongest SOUL to power their barrier, you concentrated on keeping your breathing even. One by one, they Confronted the others, calling forth their SOULs despite their frightened cries. You kept staring straight ahead, though you saw flickers of greens and purples and light blues from your peripherals.

And then the shorter of the two skeletons stopped directly in front of you. You defiantly stared at a point just past his shoulder, and you could see his smirk widen, the sharp golden tooth glinting. Skeletal phalanges gripped your chin and tilted it back, forcing you to look up and meet his single crimson eyelight. The opposite socket was concealed beneath an eyepatch, a jagged crack vertically running through his orbit and disappearing beneath his feathered hat. Despite the grandeur of his attire, his appearance was slovenly, the dark jacket too big for his frame, a rusted shackle clasped around his neck, and his ivory, button-up shirt mostly undone and halfway untucked.

“well, well…” the monster drawled, tilting his head as he regarded you with amusement. “ye look like a lass that gives no quarter. i wonder if that’s the tale yer soul’ll be singin’.”

A shiver ran up your spine; you could smell smoke and must on his breath from his close proximity, and you had to avert your eyes. He chuckled, and the tips of his fingers dug into your chin. In the next moment, you felt something grip within your chest, squeezing the very breath from your lungs. The feeling forcibly ripped something from within you, and you gasped, the world suddenly draining of color.

All except for the bright orange glow of the little heart floating before you.

Your SOUL.

The stout monster’s bone brow raised, and the light seemed to draw the attention of the taller one. You barely registered the other’s lankier, more jagged appearance; everything seemed muffled, like their voices were coming from underwater.

When they both smirked at you, you finally allowed yourself to feel fear.

A month has passed since that day, and yet… you’re still alive.

Your SOUL hasn’t been harvested for the barrier, and the skeleton brothers (you discovered they were brothers the second day, when you realized just how comical their nagging, back-and-forth banter could be–under other circumstances) have kept you fed and well. Their boat descended beneath the water, to some part of the ocean that felt much colder than you expected, but… you were actually able to breathe and see just fine underwater. They amused themselves in watching you struggle that first day, desperately holding your breath and clawing at the porthole of your cabin.

“FOR SUCH A COURAGEOUS LASS, SHE’S RATHER DAFT,” the taller one (Papyrus, you later discovered his name was) rasped as he passively observed your struggles.

“breathe, bucko,” his brother (Sans, the one with the golden tooth and promiscuous winks) instructed, chortling over your display. When you actually gave in and were forced to take a breath, you were surprised when water didn’t fill your lungs. You turned your wide-eyed stare to your captors, and they both started laughing all over again.

“did'ja really think we’re such monsters that we’d drown ya first thing? underwater’s full o’ magic, lassie. an’ magic can do all sorts o’ things.”

You’d hated them at first. Their mocking smirks, their probing questions… you avoided talking to them, but also flailed your arms out whenever they got too close. If you were going to die by two monsters much stronger than you, then fine. The world was cruel, but you accepted the impossibility of your situation. But that didn’t mean you were going to just roll over and let it happen. No, you were going to fight for your life until the bitter end.

As time stretched, however… you began to wonder what was taking so long.

You had full run of the lower decks of the ship, though most of the wood was rotted and riddled with holes that you could easily slip through if you wanted. The first time you attempted that, however, a monster with jagged teeth and fins almost immediately devoured you. Sans had been there to save you; he’d apparently been lazily tailing you the entire time. He didn’t force you back to the ship, but he warned you of the dangers lurking beneath the ocean. It confirmed every horrifying myth you’d ever heard growing up.

You tried to swim to the surface, but your arms and legs got so tired that you actually passed out. When you woke up, you were back in your cabin, with monster food left on the nightstand. Sometimes, it was disgusting… sometimes, it was actually delicious. It depended on which brother brought you the food.

One night, when Sans was in your room, kicked back in a chair with his feet propped up (one of his legs was a peg leg, you’d discovered) and his hat tilted over his face, you finally spoke.

“W…why?”

Your voice was hoarse, and cracked with disuse, but the sound was enough to rouse Sans immediately. When he tipped his hat back, surprise was clear on his face, though he quickly amended it with his usual smirk. “ahhh, so she finally speaks! i was beginnin’ to wonder if ye were mute, lassie.”

You ignored the comment and pressed on, “Why am I here?”

He shrugged with nonchalance, crossing his boot over his peg leg. “ye got a fool’s luck an’ one o’ the strongest souls i’ve ever laid eyesocket upon.”

“But if you were going to use my SOUL for the barrier… why haven’t you done it yet?”

He’s silent. After a few moments, he starts to snore.

UGH, did he seriously fall asleep in the middle of an important conversation?

More time passes, and you’re still alive.

You begin speaking to Sans whenever he comes by to loiter in your cabin, and you also begin eating meals at the table with both brothers at night. They’re growing on you, despite your best efforts.

There’s even a moment where Sans falls asleep on the couch in your cabin, and you end up moving to lie down on the cushions beside him. You don’t know if it’s Stockholm Syndrome, or the fact that these brothers have been much nicer to you than any human has on the Surface, but… you just wanted to be close to him.

He slings his arm around you, and you fall asleep with your cheek pressed into the ribs exposed from his sloppily-buttoned shirt.

When you awaken, you’re back in your bed and wondering if it was all just a dream.

Whenever you ask Sans why you’re still alive, he either hedges the query or Papyrus decides to choose that very moment to interrupt.

“SANS! YOU BILGE RAT, I SWEAR YOU’RE ALWAYS SLACKING OFF! IF YOU DON’T COME HERE AND FINISH YOUR WORK INSTEAD OF CONSTANTLY GALLAVANTING WITH YOUR WENCH, I SWEAR YOU’RE IN FOR SOME KEELHAULING!”

Sans rolls his eyelight. “aye, cap'n!” he calls, dead-pan and irritated. Then he gets up and moves to leave. “we’ll continue the conversation later, lassie.”

Yet he continues to avoid it until weeks later.

You’ve both had too much grog–which you’ve discovered is apparently a more tolerable version of rum.

Sans has had a rough day, evident by his drinking. You’ve come to be able to pick up on his moods, but he always plays it off when you attempt to pry. Your inhibitions are down enough that innocent joking and flirtatious smiles turn into touches–teasing and light at first, but then bolder, more exploratory.

“careful, lass…” he warns, his voice a low growl. His forehead is against yours, his usual hat now tipped back on your head. You’ve managed to completely unbutton his shirt, and your fingers are gingerly moving along his ribs, feeling over the grooves and ossifications from countless partially-healed fractures.

“What? Am I going to ‘awaken the kraken’?” you tease with a smirk, and you catch him off-guard enough that he makes a strangled choking sound before he starts chuckling.

“ok, that was a good one. yer jus’ full o’ surprises, ain'tcha?” His eyelight is much brighter than usual, his socket half-lidded as he hums when you hook your fingers around his sternum and start rubbing along the underside. “ye'know, ye got too many buttons still in-place. let ol’ sans take care o’ that.”

“What a gentleman,” you continue to tease as he reaches out with both hands and abruptly tugs your shirt apart. The buttons pop off, jettisoning through the water. It’s his shirt you’re wearing (his slacks, too), so you don’t mind the fact that he just ruined it. If anything, you find it to be a turn-on.

“aye, but i prefer the term ‘swashbuckler.’ in this case, i’m ‘bout to swash yer buckle aside.”

*continue reading on Ao3

#oceanfell #fell underwater #of!sans #i don't have a good nickname for him yet #but dammit #i like that he uses lass and lassie instead of sweetheart #probably lad for the gents #and bucko for neutral? #or matey #i kinda love writing his speech #i don't even have a thing for pirates really #but shit i have a thing for pirate red #instead of calling edge boss he calls him cap'n

[djerinyes]

If Only I Can See You At The End [3]

Daejun’s emotions were mostly tied to children. He would never have any in his house, would never be around them as he was, because frankly, he didn’t have the patience, and they tended to be noisy and messy and always needing some kind of attention. He didn’t want any of his own. But put a kid who acted a certain way, too aware of the world, too silent, in front of him and he’d be up and ready to kill in a moment. He didn’t want to stick around talking to them, he wanted to eliminate the source of their trouble and give them a fighting chance to not be mired down in evil for the rest of their lives.

Sacrifice. He sacrificed himself and their abusers. All so their lives would change, and they wouldn’t be stuck like his brothers were, without their older brother to guide them away and without a savior to rid them of their father.

The real Daeseong and Daehwan, the ones from his dimension, for all he knew, were still alive back home in Ashford River, because he needed them to still be alive. There was no other option. But the risen brothers were sleeping under the new tree in his backyard, and he felt as if he'd lost his genuine brothers. The sacrifice would be for all of them.

As always, preparation and scouting was the first step. He wore exercise gear to make it seem like he was an innocent hiker, patrolling through the woods to find a spot that was devoid of other life, out of the way, and as sheltered from outside eyes and ears as he could find in the middle of the woods.

Daejun hated the forest. He hated its noises and mud and bugs, and no amount of washing could cleanse it from his shoes. He hated that he didn’t have warehouses or bribed security guards to ensure his activities stayed secret, or a business partner and half a dozen clients who would swear he was with them at the time of the deed, or a tech person who could fabricate footage of him working with said clients. He didn’t have a boat to dispose of the evidence. All he had was himself.

The bells and whistles made killing a smooth process, but they didn’t guarantee success. He was all he needed, after all. When it came down to it, the sacrifice would still happen no matter what the preparation was like. And there was always someone out there who could be tricked into covering his tracks.

He found a family in a restaurant. It consisted of a twitching, rat-faced evil with an aura that smelled like stomach acid and car oil, a sickly bruise-colored air surrounding it. A worried mother with a silent, still child who did nothing but stare at the table and pick at their food.

“I don’t like the way he was looking at you,” it said as they stood in line to pay the bill.

“Who? The waiter?” She blinked in surprise, but her voice was apologetic. “I thought he was perfectly nice.”

“No. I saw the look in his eye, he wasn’t thinking anything nice,” its voice carried on, insistent. “Why do you always do this when we’re in public?”

“Do what?” 

“Act like a bitch in heat. You were making eyes at him too, do you think I wouldn’t catch that?”

“Don’t talk like that in front of Mira!”

Daejun paid for his meal and followed, keeping his distance as they walked home, their argument building and growing louder and more passionate. The daughter lagged behind, blindly watching the sidewalk pass under her feet.

He didn’t have to see it throw a punch to know it was making its wife and kid miserable. He could see it in the way the woman wrapped her arms around herself, shoulders hunched, trying desperately to calm the situation, and the way Mira ignored her parents but bore a frown that could make flowers wilt. 

Daejun waited. He watched, learned its schedule- it worked nights doing construction, but was never on time and ditched once on Thursday to meet up with some friends- its vices- coke and hard liquor- and its strengths- a strong voice and a switchblade in its jacket pocket. Finally, a week passed, and he’d learned all he wanted to.

He dug a grave in the dead of night. The sheltered spot served him well, as nothing but night birds and frog songs disturbed him. Day passed as he waited for the time to strike.  

Randy Mulligan, as its wallet would later label it, was easy to lure out into the darkness. It came a good distance into the woods with the promise of cocaine strong enough to let it see into next month, only needing to be knocked out with a plastic bag over the head when it questioned how long they’d been going. He kept his sunglasses, surgical mask, and hat on the whole time, not allowing it to see any part of his face. 

This was going will. Daejun could easily have carried it, but his desire to keep as much distance as possible meant it was dragged.

Maybe protectiveness of his little brothers and his need to sacrifice were linked; the fastest path to the grave was to be an abusive parent, bruising and staining and choking the life out of an innocent while keeping them breathing. Of course, innocence wasn’t linked to youth, and there were plenty of times when he’d taken out a partner or spouse, but they required more investigation.

Abusers always had reasons for doing what they did. Sometimes in partner-killing, the reason mattered, like when abuse was mutual and the ‘victim’ was just the one who happened to cry when he could hear, but other times, the murder could clearly be justified. It was a mixed bag. When abusers targeted children, there was no reason that they could possibly give that justified it. Kids were loud and obnoxious, but they were supposed to be, all full of life and carefree. Those that couldn't act in such a way, those that had seen too much, those that tracked the movements of their parent- and every adult around them- like a deer listening for wolves, weren’t children anymore, they were ash.

Daejun remembered being furious when his brothers turn from children to ash, when his father came home from the war. He’d been fulfilling the roles of father and eldest sibling their whole lives, but of course, his father was immediately returned to his former status, demanding the attention of the two like an attention-deprived toddler. The joy, wonder, and respect he’d cultivated in them- him! Not their mother or father! He was the one who raised them!- soured and withered away under the man’s emotional tantrums and inconsistencies, leaving the children silent and fearful. But what could he do? What say did he have, when he was barely a teenager? He was no longer in charge, and everyone was suffering for it.  

But now, he wasn’t a teenager, he wasn’t powerless, and he specialized in vanishing fathers who made everyone miserable. He could purge the world of other parents who choked the life from their young.

He was absorbing some darkness into himself so the ash children wouldn’t have to live in shadow anymore. He was saving them from experiencing what his brothers did. Before darkness, they acted as children should, begging him to climb up onto the counter and sneak the cookies down from the very highest shelf, playing an impromptu game of hide-and-seek to avoid getting into the bathtub, completely trusting him when he told them there were no monsters in the closet. After, all he could do was argue on their behalf and feel himself dying as they slept, still and sad, like corpses in his arms.

The act of taking in darkness let him see what was light again.

He tossed it into the hole, relishing in the fleshy crack it made, then made his way down to finish it. 

Evil was breathing shallowly below. It would wake again if he lingered. So he stooped over it, drawing the blade roughly across its wrist once, twice, and a third time, then again on its other side. Six perfect, lethal, beautiful incisions now marked the ugly thing. A firm knee on its chest prevented it from thrashing during the process.

Blood was spurting out of it, gushing out with the press of the knife, but it wasn’t red, it was black, oozing and sticking and hissing what it touched. Evil twitched, making a small noise in its throat, lashes fluttering as its brain went into overdrive trying to wake it up, make it save itself, but that came too late.

Was he grinning? His face felt like it would stretch in two as he clasped its head firmly between his palms, lifting it so he could really see. It had a pit of yellow teeth. Something moved under its sallow skin, uneven and quivering like its veins were stuffed with globs of jelly.

Its head was shoved back into the floor of the pit harshly, enough to make a dull thud. Evil didn’t deserve being held, it deserved punishment.

And it was. It had been.

It was almost over now. It would bleed out as he buried it.

He stood up, sheathing the blade, tucking it into his pocket, and climbed back to earth. A cool wind was blowing, but he was warm and alive. Its awful smell was being eaten alive and replaced by the definitive scent of death. The shovel was rescued from its place on the ground and used once again, sending mound after mound until it seemed like dirt was all there had ever been.

Breathing deeply, he shut his eyes, waiting for the last dredges of darkness to be absorbed and holding himself tense. A minute passed. Something with cold, numerous insect-claws crawled past his lips and down his throat, dissolving as he reflexively swallowed and spreading the chill throughout his entire body. Just like that, all residual evil was safe within him.

A sort of bone-numbing sense of accomplishment was radiating through, and he knew he’d go to sleep in a few hours with a smile on his face. Peace. That’s what this was. It was peaceful in the world, despite all the dirt.

He made little attempt to disguise the gravesite. He was tired of being near mud, and after a few days, it would rain and turn the place into a muddy, indistinguishable mess, but he did put a few fallen tree branches over it. Even if the cops happened to find the body, there wouldn’t be anything to trace back to him. All evidence would disappear like magic in an hour at most.

The shovel and knife were taken back to the car, surgical mask, and hat peeled off and stuffed in a black trash bag. He drove home, taking back roads where there were fewer traffic cameras. Once there, he hauled the trash bag, shovel, and knife in the garage, leaving them in a pile to be cleaned up later.

First stop, bathroom. A quick shower had him looking fresher, like he hadn't been crawling around in the earth and sweating around in a grave for half the night, but the bags under his eyes and the grim set of his jaw would take more than some water and soap to fix. He wasn’t clean, by any stretch of the imagination, but it would do for now. Serious scrubbing had to wait until the evidence was taken care of.

The best way to get a cam girl’s attention was, of course, to wave around some money and ask for a private show with the promise of more where it came from. So that’s what he did, finding one that looked a little rough, who probably had a lower flow of customers and tipping her $50 as soon as the page loaded. Within a second, they were in a private room. He told her what to say and kept the camera pointed away from his face.

“I wish any and all evidence for the murder of Randy Mulligan was gone.” The words left her overlined purple lips: a red light blinked in and out as she smirked in triumph. Daejun had to wonder what kind of person she was to mention the word ‘murder’ it so easily, without asking questions, though he appreciated it. “You sure I can’t give you a show?”

“I’m sure. But I do appreciate your services.”  He paid and shut the computer down.

Back in the garage, the shovel and knife were now completely spotless, looking like they’d been cleaned until they shone like new. There was no dirt around his car or in his shoes Not a drop of blood was in sight. The crime scene and the rest of his car should be free of DNA, fingerprints, traces of fibers, or anything else that could give him away.

Not that he was going back to make sure.

He put the shovel back in its usual spot by the other gardening tools and stowed the knife inside, between his favorite chair and the wall. The aim was to have it nearby him just in case, not hide it, but if it happened to be out of sight, he wouldn’t complain.

And just like that, it was done. Evil was dead, for now. Hands in his pockets, he wandered out to the backyard to check the tree.

“You’re not mine, but I’m taking care of the world for you. It’s brighter now. Come back anytime,” he offered, watching the roots and listening hard for anything that sounded like voices, but there was no response.

#touchofsolo #potw grave mistake #If Only I Can See You At The End [3] #If Only I Can See You At The End #violence tw #murder tw #domestic abuse tw #kids tw #// #yikes TM #oh my god it's finally done