#aka something i learned earlier today

[kaceythecrunch]

RANT. (sturntok.)

Yall. Im so mad. Sturntok pisses me the fuck off to the point it isn't even funny anymore. This might be messy, so bare with me.

Tara. Why the fuck is everyone pressed about Tara hanging out with the triplet, specifically matt and Chris. Yall are acting as if it was only two of them, like they're on a date. They were with fucking I don't know, 8 other people? Like why does Sturntok care who they hangout with? Did you not learn from elementary school to mind your bees wax, or business? You're probably 15. They're literally 5 years older than you. There is no way, in any universe they're gonna date you girl. ALSO TO SHIT ON TARA?? LIKE GIRL. FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO SHIT ON CUZ HOMEGIRL DONT CARE. SHE DONT CARE. SHE IS STRIVING AND LIVING LIFE LIKE YOU SHOULD GIRL. Live life and don't care. You'll probably have a positive outcome. No cuz y'all know how Chris owns the Saturn necklace thing? Its vivienne underwood. It's less than 20 bucks on Amazon. Also when was the last time y'all saw Chris wearing that necklace girl. Also there's a post from like months, or I think a year ago of Tara wearing the same necklace. These fucking tiktok girls are so annoying. Like we get it, everyone wants to be Tara. (she's my gf.)

Podcast. I saw a bunch of btiches shit on the podcast. Like cmon. THEY ARE PRODUCING AN HOUR LONG VIDEO FOR YALL EVERY WEEK. Mfs are burnt out, you're lucky that they even produce content for you ungreatful hoes. Like lwk, I'd rather have them remove Wednesday videos. I remember when they first started their podcast that they were really excited to start and stuff. I also remember, I believe it was their earlier vlogs. When they were still living in Boston and they haven't like went to LA yet, they were talking about turning their basement into a podcast room. Like cmon. This is something they've been wanting to do and you hoes just don't appreciate anything. Like have y'all's mama's not been pissed at y'all for not appreciating her food. Live life positive and not negative tf. But ofc, I respect their decision.

Intro. Yall just love to shit on everyone. Ruining the party. Sturntok reminds me of the kids-the class "clowns" who would be so shitty to the teacher for no reason and would ruin fun things for everyone. Like guys, I think we should all as a community bully Sturntok. It requires a bit more bullying, just to knock some sense into their heads. Anyways, back to what I was ranting about. I loved their new intro. its a new era. A new them. Change. Is. Fucking. hard. I understand that you love the teens from Boston running around making fools of themselves. Me too, I shall admit it. But in order to get sponsorships, to get the little paring things. (For example, them sponsoring Celsius, even becoming the youtooz thing.) Like they gotta act more professional.

Change. This tied in with the last few things. CHANGE IS HARD. CHANGE IS A DIFFICULT THING. But how the fuck are you gonna live life, and enjoy life when your stuck on one thing forever. Change is needed for growth, and for learning. Like guys, THEYRE 20. I think that's something y'all forget. They aren't teenagers anymore. Its kinda like how when everyone went into middle school and started to not like kiddy things when you still liked kiddy things. When I was in middle school I still like to play with Legos, draw, watch anime. Until I hit 7th grade, aka everyone's downfall. I still enjoy some of those things today but I changed because people in middle school stopped like those things and its embarrassing (well for me at least) to show up in school with anime shirts cuz I'm getting older. Thats what they're feeling I guess. Again, theyre 20 now.

Crazy ass mfs. Crazy, as in them soft mf's on sturntok. Also what pisses me off more is that they're coming here on tumblr. Like no, I know your soft ass belongs on Wattpad bffr. I have a long rant about this one, so bare with me again. They are so so so so so SOOOOO sensitive about the "spicy edits." Sometimes the fucking video frame isn't even about something "spicy" aka- them being shirtless, video frame near their crotch. It was when there was a song about sex. How soft can you be. Most songs these days are about sex. Some songs y'all probably didn't know about was about sex. (cake by the ocean for example.) LIKE LETS ME FOR REAL. MOST SONGS ARE ABOUT SEX. Also with the tiktok audios being removed like cmon. Not everything is about sunshine and rainbows. I remember I commented on a Chris edit and I was like.

"I need this man in my life. He's so hot."

"you're fucking gross. He's a human being and do you know how grossed out he would be if he saw that you said this? (bullshitbullshit,morebullshitandstupidness.)"

Yeah, keeping fucking running your mouth. THIS TIKTOK HAS LIKE 4K VIEWS. DO YOU WANNA KNOW HOW MUCH FUCKING FOLLOWERS THE TRIPLETS HAVE? YEAH. THAT'S NOT EVEN A QUARTER OF WHAT THEY HAVE. THIS VIDEO HAS 1K COMMENTS. ARE THEY FUCKING HUNTING ME DOWN?? MY COMMENT HAS 3 LIKES. WHY WOULD THEY CARE TO FUCKING CHECK GIRL. ITS ALSO TELLING THE FUCKING PERSON WHO EDITED THIS THAT THIS EDIT WAS FIRE AND THAT THEY MADE THE EDIT HELLA GOOD. UR FUCKING LUCKY I KEPT MY ANGER TO MYSELF CUZ OH GIRL. I WOULD SUCKER PUNCH YOU. You know whats also funny? They're the same people who will be pissed with when they see matt or Chris with a female. Like girl. You're calling me fucking gross? Do you think how much more worse that is than my comment? You ruin friendships. OG sturniolo fans know that they've been friends with girls. If you genuinely care, yall would know that nick made most of matt and chris' friends. Meaning most of them were females. SO OBVIOUSLY THEYRE GONNA HAVE GIRL FRIENDS. I remember watching the Zach sang pod when nick was on and he explained that matt usually doesn't make the friends. Theres a joke where matt says "I'm gonna make a friend that wasn't originally nick's friends." smth like that. Anyways, off topic. Just because they are seen with a girl, doesn't mean they are fucking dating them. Like shut the fuck up. please. Respectfully shut the fuck because I'm a nice person. Also Chris gives off major virgin vibes lets bffr.

Madi. Yall hate so bad on Madi and its fucking grossing me out. Why do you have to ship her with matt and chris??? Literally to the point they can't even put her in photo dumps or videos. You just gotta ruin it for everyone, huh? shes fucking gorgeous, and she's so funny in videos. Plus, when she does talk shes hillarious. She literally reminds me of Matt. She doesn't fucking talk much because she is more of a listener.. Like guys bffr. How can you hate her when she barley spoke in videos. Like respectfully, shut the fuck up. Yall just jealous shes pretty.

Calling Nick fine. I also hate them mfs who are always running their mouth about girls calling Nick fine. Lets bffr. Y'all didn't think a gay guy is fine? I'm sure you've had a crush on one gay person before. And if you haven't trust me. You will. I had a crush on my gay friend in 8th grade. I feel like its a canon even in every girl's life. anyways, I hate when girls will be scared to call nick hot.

"Nick is so fine. But like as a cool guy friend way. Please don't attack me."

POOR GIRL BELIEVES SHE IS GONNA BE ATTACKED IF SHE CALLS A GAY MAN FINE. Sturntok leave her the fuck alone. He's hot as fucking and I will kill civilians if I'm not given more nick edits. He's so fine. Literally the hottest triplet.

If u made it here thanks. There was shit on my chest that I really needed to let out. What have we learned today?

Sturntok can suck my fucking dick.

Thanks goodbye.

Me to Sturntok :

#kaceythecrunchspeaks #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #chris sturniolo smut #madi filipowicz #tara yummy #rant post #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you

[wanderingwomanwondering]

Today’s buddie obsession brought to you by the s6 cemetery scene. I did a rewatch, now I’m unwell.

Buck noticed that eddie was feeling some type of way at the grave, so he offered comforting words. He tried to care for eddie’s heart but didn’t see that eddie wasn’t at ease (metaphorically he couldn’t breathe in that moment, something more was sitting on his chest!!)

Eddie noticed that buck wasn’t at ease and tried to reassure him that he doesn’t have to be anything but himself but eddie also *eventually* realized in the scene that he’d missed some important feelings that buck had been having about the lightning strike.

Eddie has learned to spot when buck can’t breathe (aka be himself) and buck has learned to spot when eddie’s heart needs a beat (aka emotional support), but then they both (to varying degrees) miss when the other is dealing with something that they think is their strong suit! Eddie missed buck’s deeper heart/feelings about dying and buck missed eddie’s lack of ease/comfort with himself in the cemetery. I read that scene as a lack of ease/comfortability on eddie’s part because he started off being open about his feelings (fear of dying alone) but quickly shifted to focus on buck’s needs. He was metaphorically out of breath…in a cemetery…looking like death. Buck didn’t fully catch that something deeper and important was going on with eddie.

The trauma of buck’s death made their communication in the cemetery difficult, because they both have big unspoken feelings about it and about themselves by extension. As others have said, and I agree, buck and eddie were talking past each other in that moment. But interestingly they were still somehow talking about the same thing.

Eddie was talking about his fear of dying alone. Earlier in the episode he was with Chris at Shannon’s grave and Marie said what she said before she died so it makes sense that eddie would be thinking about these things. What feels (mildly) extra is how clearly he wore the weight of those feelings during the scene??? It only starts to make sense because eddie was literally standing next to the person who’s recent death has been weighing on him the most. The actual person who he lost and couldn’t imagine his life without. But that person is talking about another LI, feeling seen by that LI and feeling unable to see himself…or eddie’s emotional turmoil.

Buck was talking about dying alone too but in a more roundabout way. He was exploring the power of feeling seen and understood. While standing next to the man who spent years in a marriage where he wasn’t seen by his partner or by himself. While standing next to eddie as the embodiment of the kind of living death that sets in when a person feels entirely unseen in a way they want to be seen! Buck talked about natalia with hope and awe because he felt seen by her which made him feel alive and energized. Meanwhile eddie looks like he’s dying during their entire conversation! He looks pale, distressed, he’s drowning in his clothes, he’s saying words but barely talking about himself, he’s deferring to buck because buck is the only breathing person complete with a heartbeat in that scene!! Buck being lost/misguided aside, he’s still feeling like he’s on the right path and grateful to be alive to explore it, but eddie doesn’t seem to come to life or catch a second wind at any point in the conversation.

Then we have the grave itself. Marie Ellis is the woman whose grave all of this happened at. The name Marie is a variant of Mary and can mean many things. One of the popular meanings, “beloved”, stood out to me. I think what eddie buried in that cemetery was his hope for a romantic relationship with buck 🫣 Shannon’s been gone for years and eddie seems to have peace on that front, if his conversations with chris are any indication. Tía Pepa encouraged him to date and he was relieved when Vanessa said she wasn’t ready to date . In my brain all of the above makes eddie’s glow-down in 615 all the more pointed! He was in mourning, burying his hope for something with buck and trying to accept that he’d need to find a different path to romantic love.

The second name meaning for Marie that jumped out at me was “bitterness”. That one seems relevant to the way the scene played out. Before eddie understood buck’s feelings, frankly he seemed annoyed. He was frustrated that buck was dating natalia. He used the excuse of her being from a call but buck’s s2 gf, Ali, was from a call and eddie didn’t have any objections to that. Taylor was technically from a call and eddie said nothing about that (even though we KNOW he didn’t like her). Eddie was either reading history and cautioning buck against falling victim to his old pattern and/or he was full-on fishing for a reason to discourage buck from dating natalia specifically.

Tbh I know it’s a long shot but I think eddie knows that he has or is developing feelings for buck and he was finally starting to admit that (to himself at least) then buck fell into natalia’s arms. I think it was a double whammy for eddie that buck felt truly seen by her after just five minutes; I can’t get over how shook eddie looked after buck said that!! It wasn’t until after buck revealed that he felt seen and didn’t know how to be with everyone else and that he didn’t feel like he was the same person after the lightning strike that eddie accepted it and resigned himself to the idea that he doesn’t have a chance with buck. Hence eddie’s constant parade of mournful glances between the distance, buck and marie’s grave!! Bonus points to the writers because Marie also has meanings connected to the sea, and water was a constant theme in s6.

Hopefully I’m not completely delulu. I’m sure I missed stuff and there’s always more to say but damn that cemetery scene had a lot going on!!

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 meta #911 abc

[transmutationisms]

can you talk a bit more about weber (im refering to a post you made earlier today i think)? i know a bit about the protestant ethic theory but not really the historical context in which it was written nor how it's used today. thanks!

so, weber's argument is essentially that protestant (specifically calvinist and puritan) theology played a major causal role in the development of capitalism in northern europe following the reformation. his position was that protestant ethics, in contrast to catholicism, placed a high moral value on secular, everyday labour, but also discouraged the spending of one's wages on luxury goods, tithing to the church, or giving overmuch to charity. thus, protestants invested their money in business and commercial ventures instead, turning the generation of capital into a moral endeavour and venerating hard work and economic productivity as ways to ensure one's soul was saved (as the buying of indulgences was not an option for protestants).

this is a bad argument. at core it is idealist, subordinating an economic development to religious ideology. weber never explains how the actual, material economic changes he wants to talk about were effected by a set of ideas; he doesn't consider the possibility that the ideas themselves reflected in some way the material and economic context in which they were developed; he doesn't differentiate between protestantism as a causal factor in the development of capitalism, versus the possibility that capitalism and protestant conversion both resulted from some other factor or set of factors. <- these types of problems are endemic to 'history of ideas' aka 'intellectual history' because merely writing a history of the (learned, published) ideas circulating at a given time doesn't tell you jack about how and whether those ideas were actually implemented, how common people reacted to them or resisted them, what sorts of material circumstances the ideas themselves were formulated amidst, and so forth.

in the case of weber, it's very easy to poke holes in this supposed relationship between protestantism and capitalism. even in western europe alone, we could look at a country like france, which was quite catholic, never became predominantly or even significantly protestant, and yet also industrialised not long after, eg, the netherlands and england. we could also look at what historian michael kwass calls "court capitalism" in 18th-century france, which was a largely non-industrial form of capitalism that depended on the catholic king's central authority in order to ensure a return on investment. france at this time had a burgeoning luxury culture and a centralised, absolutist government that was closely entwined with the powerful catholic church—yet it also had economic development that is recognised as early capitalist, along with growing social and economic tensions between the nascent bourgeois and petit-bourgeois classes and the aristocracy. this is not even close to being the earliest example of capitalist or proto-capitalist economic development (some predates the reformation!), and again, this is within western europe alone—we could and should also point out that capitalism is not solely a european phenomenon and can and does coexist with other, radically different, religious ideology (i have problems with jack goody's work but this is something i think it can help elucidate).

weber argued that the 'spirit of capitalism' was no longer dependent on the protestant theology that had initially spawned it—but again, here we see issues with idealist methodologies in history. at what point, and how, does this 'spirit' become autonomous? what is it that has taken hold, if weber is not talking about the 'protestant ethic' itself and is also not interested in analysing the material changes that comprise capitalism except as effects of some underlying ideology? well, it's what he sees as a general shift toward 'rationalisation' and 'disenchantment' of the world, leading to an understanding of late 19th- and early 20th-century capitalism as a kind of spiritually unmoored servitude to mechanism and industry. this in turn relates back to weber's overall understanding of the legacy of the 'scientific revolution', which is another can of (bad) worms. there is a lot to say about these elements of weber's thought, but for starters the idea that europe was the progenitor of all 'scientific advancement', that it then simply disseminated such knowledge to the rest of the world (the apotheosis of the centre-periphery model, lmao), and that europe has become 'disenchanted', ie irreligious, as a result of such scientific advancement... is just patently bad analysis. it's eurocentric, chauvinistic, and simply demonstrably untrue in like twelve different ways.

anyway, when i see conservatives and reactionaries cite weber, i'm not surprised. his arguments are conservative (his entire intellectual paradigm in this text was part of his critique of marx and the premises of materialist / contextualist history). but when i see ostensible leftists doing it, often as some kind of dunk on protestantism (or christianity more generally, which is not even a good reading of weber's own understanding of catholicism), it's more irritating to me. i am not interested in 'leftisms' that are not materialist. weber's analysis is a bad explanation of how and why capitalism took hold; it doesn't even work for the limited northern european case studies he starts with because, again, idealist history fundamentally fails to explain how ideology itself creates material change. like, "some guy writes something down -> ??? -> everyone just agrees with him -> ??? -> stuff happens somehow" is not a good explanation of any phenomenon, lmao. if we are stuck on the idea that capitalism, a set of economic phenomena and real relations of production, is the result of ideology, then we will also be stuck trying to 'combat' capitalism on the ideological level. it's unserious and counterproductive. weber's analysis has retained an outsize position in the sociological historiography because it's an attractively simplistic, top-down, idealist explanation of both capitalism and protestantism that makes centuries worth of material changes to production forms into a kind of ideological coup ushering in an age of 'rationalism'. this is just not a text that tells us, leftists, anything politically useful. at best it is an explication of the internal psychological logics of (some) forms of protestantism in (some) places and contexts.

#sry idk if i actually answered yr question lol #weber

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to Chaos Creator's Chapter 252

New chapter title - 31. Chaos Plus Chaos

TL;DR - Cale talks to White Snake, Past Dragon, and Horns. The world only has 1-2 months left before destruction. CJG disappears after heading to a ruined temple. Chaos creator Cale agrees to meet with chaos dreamer Pope Kesilia.

World Destruction Lots of info dump today. Cale met the white snake in her human form. She introduced herself as Wisha, and her appearance reminded Cale of Clopeh because of their similar hair and eye colors. And when Cale saw Clopeh staring at Wisha, he wondered what Clopeh had been doing in the battle earlier, and felt uneasy... 😂

I wonder how Clopeh's family is related to Wisha. Their similarities are too many to be called a coincidence. The Sekka family's symbol is a white snake, and Wisha has the form of a white snake. So it's possible that someone related to Wisha had gone to Cale's world centuries ago, like how we suspect the Thames to originally be the Snow family.

Moving on, I'll summarize the info we learned today:

When the source of the world runs out, the world will collapse.

All the living beings will be full of extreme emotions when that happens. They'll either die in search of their gods, or die in immense despair.

The Dragon Lord plans to harvest everything they leave behind, which include the intense emotions and dead mana, and use it to create an absolute god.

Not all elves followed the dragons. So do the dwarves.

Wisha found a way to contact the source of the world, aka Aipotu itself, though she got hurt through the process.

Aipotu only has 1-2 months left before destruction.

The dragons and their minions (the elves) knew about this countdown, but the mixed blood dragons did not.

The mixed blood dragons were bound to die soon, so the dragons excluded them from the plan.

The mixed blood dragons were pampered, so that when their end came, the mbds would die with hope or despair, making them quality ingredients for the Dragon Lord.

The Dragon Lord was aware of the mbd's rebellion plan.

There seemed to be some beef between Wisha and Horns. Wisha was called by Horns to be a "great pureblood" who discriminated against "lowly half-bloods", saying that kicking out the young half-blood children was akin to sentencing them to death. Wisha called out Horns, telling him that a heinous person who killed lots of beastkin had no right to say that. In the end, Cale had to use his DA to calm the two down.

Chaos Everywhere Cale set three goals. First was to meet Aipotu through the safe method that Wisha found. Second was to defeat the Purple Bloods. Third was to find more allies in this world.

Thus, Cale asked Horns if he could set up a meeting with Pope Kesilia. Horns was confused because he had just told Cale about the pope's plan to cause chaos, but Cale said that he was someone who was good at causing chaos too, so they had something in common. Oooh, the chaos creator meets a chaos dreamer! 🤣🤣🤣

After Cale's meeting with Horns and Wisha, he had a conversation with Past Dragon. I found it strange that the author did not give him a name when she gave Wisha one. Anyway, Past Dragon told Cale, CH, CJS, and Sui about what happened to CJG.

CJG headed to a ruined temple in a southern jungle to verify the stories he heard from Wisha and the Past Dragon. That ruined temple belonged to... the God of Chaos! They lost contact with CJG after that.

Everyone was shocked to hear about this new god. Cale recalled that the God of Chaos was one of the 5 ancient gods. Sui warned CJS to be careful of what he says about that god.

And the God of Death who was listening to them was continuously sending out angry messages. Poor GoD had been pulling all-nighters for several days, investigating the wanderer list because CJS and Sui had been pestering him to. He was troubled with the God of War, and now, there was also the God of Chaos.

Cale eventually assigned Sui to investigate CJG's disappearance. Why Sui though? Even Sui told CH and CJS that it would be better for him to go than them.

Ending Remarks All the chaos mention in this chapter was funny. But poor GoD. Fortunately, gods don't die, so he won't die from overworking. 😂 Next chapter will be Cale's meeting with Pope Kesilia... No, wait. Isn't it time for Cale to talk to HBD and give him a name already? Come on, author-nim! Please don't delay it any further!

#tcf spoilers #trash of the count's family

[bluestar22x]

Colors

A Young!Joel Miller Short Fanfic

xxx

Summary: When you move in next door, you ask Joel and Tommy to paint your house. No outbreak AU. Sarah is in part of the story.

Pairing: Young!Joel x Legally Blind F!Reader (only other physical description is that she doesn't have cloudy eyes); Miller family dynamics

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Fluff, smut, no physical barriers aka condoms (not recommended), Joel taking things nice and slow ;)

Word Count: 5,300 (ish)

Author's Note: I'm not blind myself so I hope I did this justice. I do follow a blind youtuber channel so I've made an attempt to make this accurate considering there's varying degrees and types of blindness. I had to try since I couldn't get this fic idea out of my head.

xxx

November 2003

"Sarah?" Joel called out as he stepped into his house after a long day finishing another construction project with Tommy, kicking off his boots by the door.

"In here," he heard her call from the kitchen.

He climbed the few steps between that room and the entrance way, finding her seated at the dining table, focused on coloring in something on white poster paper with colored pencils.

"What'd you got there?" he quizzed, heading for the fridge and pulling out a bottle of Coke, twisting the cap off. He turned to face her as he took a sip.

"Mrs. Henson assigned us science projects last week," she answered, not looking up. "Mine's on water runoff, you know? How the rain erodes and shapes land and stuff?"

Joel grunted. "Ya. We learned that in school too."

Sarah smiled slightly at his grumpy reaction and continued on, "I got the research paper part of it done yesterday and tonight I want to finish the poster."

"When is it due?" he asked her, walking over to study the drawing she'd made. More than a little bit of pride bloomed in his chest when he noted how realistic the land and water looked on the paper. She was a real little artist.

"Thursday," she replied, "But I wanted to get it done early, since Ava wants to go to the mall tomorrow - if that's okay? We're gonna take the bus together."

"Sure." Joel had planned on taking the next day, a Saturday, off to spend time with her, but he wasn't going to stop her from going out with her new friend just cause he wanted to spend some time with her. Ava was a good kid like Sarah and he wanted to encourage his daughter's friendship with her. It was a good thing for her to be going out with kids her age. She was nearly fifteen, after all. As much as he hated that she was growing up so fast, he refused to hold her back. She was already wise beyond her years. "Do you need any money?"

She shook her head. "I still have that money from dog sitting Mercy."

"Alright."

The Adlers, their closest neighbors, had hired Sarah to watch Mercy for a weekend last month while they were away for a family member's wedding in Oklahoma. She'd earned fifty bucks and as sensible as she was, she had of course put the money away instead of spending it immediately.

Joel wanted to insist he give her some money for it too, she deserved it, but he knew she'd refuse. She was old enough to know that money was tight. They were in a good place, but any big emergencies could easily mess that up, and Joel was also trying save up money for college for her. That she didn't know about.

"Thanks," Sarah said gratefully, getting back to work.

"No need, kiddo," Joel told her, warm eyes watching her. The wall mounted phone in the kitchen began to ring and he frowned before striding over to pick it up. Who would be calling at this time? His brother better not have gotten into trouble again. He'd wring out his neck.

"Miller."

"This Joel?" inquired an unfamiliar feminine voice on the other end of the line - yours.

"Yeah."

"Sorry for calling so late," you said. You stated your name. "I tried calling you earlier today but no one picked up. Guessed you were at work. Anyway, I'm a neighbor of yours across the street, recently moved in next door to Denise. She talked to me today and suggested I call you about getting the inside painted. She gave me your phone number. Said you and your brother Tommy painted her place last year for her at a fair price."

Tommy had been the one to set that small job up. It wasn't what they usually did, but painting was easy, and his little brother had been dating Denise at the time. They'd only been together a few weeks before deciding they weren't quite right for each other, but they'd remained friends ever since. Part of that was Denise throwing them job opportunities every once in a while. He wasn't sure why Denise hadn't given you Tommy's number though.

"You're in luck," Joel said, "We're in between jobs. You want the whole inside painted?"

"Yes."

"Will you have everything we need?" he questioned.

"I've never had a house painted before," you told him. "This is my first home I own. I wouldn't know what to get. But I did get the paint and I'll pay for all the supplies you need to buy, of course."

Joel asked you exactly which house was yours and how big each of the rooms were, if there were a lot of corners, any wallpaper to be taken down, etc. and you answered him in precise ways that gave him an excellent idea on what the job would cost you. When he gave you the estimation he could almost hear the smile on your face in your bright tone. "That's so much better than what the other painter was estimating. When could you start?"

"Well, I'll have to talk to my brother and get back to you in the morning," Joel said, "But we might be able to start tomorrow afternoon."

"On a Saturday?" You were clearly surprised by that.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I got no plans. As long as my brother isn't doing anything either, we'll gladly get going on it while we're waiting for our next big project to begin."

They'd have two weeks. Plenty of time for them to get your whole house done. More than enough.

"Alright, then, I'll stay near a phone," you said before giving him your number. He used a pen to jot it down on a sticky note pad he kept nearby on a counter. "Goodnight, Joel, and thanks again."

"You're welcome," he said back, and he heard a click on the other end as you hung up your phone. He did the same with his.

"You're working tomorrow?" Sarah asked, disapprovingly.

"I got no plans," Joel argued. "Might as well help her out."

She blinked up at him curiously. "Who is she?"

"One of our new neighbors," he explained. "Denise recommended me and Tommy when she told her she needed someone to paint the inside of her house."

"That's nice of her," Sarah noted.

"It is," Joel agreed.

She let her eyes fall back down to the poster. "I'm almost done here. After can we watch a movie?"

He bent down to kiss her on the forehead and fondly tousled her dark, curly hair. "Sure thing, baby girl. Your pick."

It was probably going to be Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron again, but he didn't mind.

x

It turned out Tommy didn't have any plans the next day either so at one o' clock in the afternoon he met Joel at his house and they took the truck to gather supplies at their favorite hardware store before heading over to your house for two.

Joel knocked on the door, a step ahead of Tommy on the porch, and you opened it up a few moments later, a wide, friendly smile on your face, wanting to make them feel welcome. "Joel and Tommy?"

They both nodded. "Yes ma'am."

You moved aside so they could walk in and shut the door behind them. "Glad to meet you."

You raised your right hand to shake Joel's, just a little too high and a little too much to the left for a sighted person. You knew because you felt Joel gently grasp your hand and move it into a more comfortable position before shaking it.

You couldn't see it, but Joel and Tommy shared a glance, unsure.

"Are you...?" The younger Miller trailed off, not wanting to pry but unable to help himself. You felt him staring at your eyes with confusion, and you immediately knew why.

You nodded at him. "Yeah, it might not look like it, but I'm blind."

Many people not used to being around blind people without sunglasses on didn't know that many blind people had normal looking eyes like yours. You'd even had a few people claim you were faking it because they looked fine and you sometimes could pass as a sighted person to those who briefly interacted with you. You may have lost your sight, but you were a very capable person.

"That why you need us to paint?" Joel asked.

"I need you to paint because I have no experience doing it and I have a job just like everyone else," you answered patiently. Sometimes slighted people tested it, but there was no reason to get annoyed with either of them yet.

"What do you do?" Tommy inquired curiously.

"I'm an author. I write children's books."

You may have not been able to see his expression, but you still sensed his surprise. "Never heard of Helen Keller?"

"No, I have," Tommy stuttered.

Joel huffed at his idiot brother and turned back to you. "Where would you like us to start?"

"In the kitchen," you replied. "My parents and sister are visiting next weekend and I want to make sure the paint in the main rooms are all dry before they do."

You led them from your mudroom into the kitchen and your reddish brown Golden Retriever woofed at them once lowly before trotting loyally up to your side.

"Cute dog," Tommy noted. "Is he your service dog, or can I pet him?"

"Maple is my service dog," you stated, "But she's off duty and would probably love a pet."

You were glad he asked, even if it wasn't necessary in the house. Too many people tried petting Maple when out in public, even though she always had her vest on when she was guiding you. Some people just couldn't take a hint, or didn't care that they were distracting her from her job.

Tommy kneeled and patted his thighs to get Maple's attention. She darted up to him, happily accepting his affection as he scratched her behind the ears. "Hey, girl. Aren't you sweet?"

You glided a hand along the island in the center of the room so you moved a straight line as you passed it and stopped when you reached the end, picking up one of the paint cans you'd left there by the handle and flaunting it to him and Joel.

"This is the color I want in this room," you declared.

Joel took a few steps closer to examine the label on the bucket. "This is a bright lime green, you sure?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at his words. "Of course I am."

"It's just I've never seen anyone around here put a bright color like that on their walls," he explained. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do."

"I picked out all bright colors on purpose," you told him. "I can't see dark colors at all, but in certain lighting, like direct sunlight, I can see bright colors. It's really blurry, but I can still see those colors enough to like it. It's comforting."

You hadn't always been blind. You'd been born sighted, but a genetic disease had slowly taken your sight away and still was. Eventually you wouldn't be able to see bright colors either, but for the time being you could.

"Alright then." He backed off as Tommy stood up. "We'll get to work."

"If you have any questions, I'll be in my office down the hall," you informed them. "Writing."

"Sure thing," Joel said and you just knew he'd nodded out of habit at you. You hid a chuckle from him.

x

Joel and Tommy were good workers. Fast but competent and precise, just as Denise had promised you. In the week that followed, as they steadily painted your plain looking walls so they'd stand out, you all got to know each other a little more and more, a consequence of being in close quarters together, especially when they got busy painting your office while you were still in it.

You learned that Joel had a teen daughter at home, though he'd only turned thirty-six a couple months ago, and that Tommy was an Army veteran. Neither gave details on why he was already retired though. Maybe he'd been injured? You could only guess since you didn't know him enough to feel like you had the right to pry.

Since the Miller brothers were often at your home during lunch you started offering them a plate of whatever you were eating. Tacos, pasta, homemade fried chicken. They took some convincing, not wanting to make you spend extra money on them, but you assured them that it was fine, that it was all excess that would likely end up in the trash if they didn't help you out eating it all. So they ate at your dining table with you and you got to know them a little more.

Though Tommy was closer to your age, and they were both handsome sounding men, you felt yourself helplessly attracted to Joel and his gravelly voice. His attitude matched some of your personality as well. Quiet, observant, with a sarcastic sense of humor.

You found yourself dragging your laptop into whatever room they were working in so you could listen in on them, listen to Joel in particular, even though you typically hated people who eavesdropped. You couldn't help yourself, and if either of the brothers noticed, they didn't mention it. Maybe they liked your company too, you thought. A girl could dream.

x

It didn't take long for Joel to figure out you were someone special. Not because of what you'd gone through in life or because you were pretty, but because of the little things you did.

People in the South were known for being polite and kind neighbors, but that wasn't as standard as most outsiders thought, and you went above and beyond the standard measures when allowed to.

Like when Sarah knocked on the door Thursday after school offering some cookies to buy for the travel club she'd recently joined. They were going to New York in two years and she was determined to pay for it all by herself through the club's typical fundraising events. She was planning on getting a job in the summer too. When she'd explained why she was selling the cookies, you'd bought two dozen for fifty dollars without hesitance and invited her in to hang out while he and Tommy finished their day's work.

"Thanks so much," Sarah repeated as she sat down on a stool in the kitchen, not far from Joel, who was cleaning some brushes off in the sink. He easily heard everything you two were talking about.

"You can thank me by keeping about a dozen of those when they come in," you told her, also plopping onto a stool. "Anything more than twelve in my house and I'll get diabetes real early."

Sarah giggled. "Okay. I'll do that." She noticed Maple as she approached her water bowl for a few licks and beamed at her. "What a pretty dog. What's her name?"

"Maple," you replied. "She's my guide dog, but you can pet her. If she's out of harness, she's not working."

"Come here Maple!" Sarah exclaimed and the dog gleefully sprinted up to her. Sarah kissed her head and rubbed her body until Maple flopped over and offered her belly to her. Sarah giggled again and gave her what she wanted. "I love dogs," she told you.

"It runs in the family, apparently," you mused, probably thinking about how Tommy had reacted on the first day.

Joel himself had patted Maple a few times during the course of the week. His family had always been dog people, even when they couldn't afford dogs.

"Dad told me you're an author," Sarah said.

"He did?"

Joel felt your eyes on his back and heat flooded his face. He didn't want you thinking he gossiped about you behind your back or something like that. He wasn't that type of person.

"I write children's stories, so you probably haven't heard of any of them," you informed Sarah. "I have a series about a family of red foxes who have adventures together." You went on to give a few examples and Joel noticed his daughter listening intently, ever respectful.

"Sounds interesting," Sarah told her afterwards. "I probably would've loved your stories as a kid. Are foxes your favorite animal?"

"They are," you answered, nodding. "Red foxes in particular. They're just such elegant canines. And very clever. They may like chickens, but they tend to rather avoid people in most cases."

"Have you ever seen one in person?"

"Yes, I saw them all the time growing up," you replied. "Lived on a farm."

"Hence your mention of chickens."

You grinned. "Yeah. Foxes don't just like them in the cartoons."

"I can't blame them."

"Me neither."

Joel chuckled under his breath but didn't let it be known otherwise that he'd been listening in, getting back to work instead, leaving you two to continue your conversation without any prying ears.

He later found out when he got back home that you'd sent Sarah away with leftovers from that day's lunch to eat while she did her homework.

Of course you had.

x

By Friday night Joel and Tommy were almost finished your entire house, only needing to do a few finishing touches on the white borders in the otherwise bright yellow painted spare bedroom.

It was six o' clock and Tommy had to leave for a date, but Joel stuck around to finish the job.

"You don't have to stay," you said to him after his brother walked out the front door. "Go home and spend time with your daughter."

"We have plans to go hiking tomorrow," he told you. "But tonight she's with a friend and they're seeing a movie later. Won't be home until ten."

You nodded, not sure what to say to that. You didn't want him to work overtime just for you, but if he wanted to... "If you're sure."

"It's not a problem," he promised you. "Won't take more than another hour, if that."

He was finished in forty minutes, and was examining his work with a critical eye when you walked in to offer him a cup of lemonade. He accepted it gratefully.

"How does it look?" you asked him as he took a sip.

He grunted. "Bright. But the colors you picked turned out nicer than I expected. Do you want me to turn up the light brighter to see for yourself?"

"I can see the color in good lighting," you informed him, "But no matter how bright the light gets I'm not going to be able to see the trim. I'm going to have to trust you on that."

"You can," Joel said with a pause, "Trust me. With the trim, that is. There's no mistakes. We used tape to be sure."

You beamed at the way he was stumbling through his words, rambling. Something you figured wasn't in character for him, unless he was really nervous for some reason.

Would it be arrogant to think it was because of you and not your blindness?

It wasn't like you had men lining up to date you, but you were experienced enough to tell at least when they were nervous because of your presence, whether that be because of your blindness or your looks.

You couldn't tell between those two reasons though. You were just hoping that after the past week Joel was used to being around a blind person.

You walked with him to your front door quietly, unsure of how to proceed, what was next, now that the project was over.

"Call me with the bill and I'll bring you a check Monday?" You heard Joel pick up the tool belt he'd left by the door earlier.

"Sure," he said quietly.

You reached out and grabbed onto his arm before he could open the door on instinct. You wanted to stop him and so you did. It was the first time you'd ever touched him. His arm was toasty warm and you could feel the outline of his bicep under your palm.

You could not see his eyes turn back to you, but you knew they had.

"Thanks for helping me out on short notice," you said in a rush.

"No need to thank me," he countered with a shrug. You dropped your hand back to your side as he continued, "We were between jobs. If anything, you helped us."

You smiled at his insistence. "We helped each other then. My family will see the place as I want them to see it, and you have a little more money to put into Sarah's college savings."

"How'd...?"

You rolled your eyes, but another smile played on your lips. "Any good father's got a savings for their kid, and you're one of the best."

"Sarah tell you that?"

"I don't always need spoken words to see something."

There was some silence after that. "I'd better get home," Joel said eventually, awkwardly.

You pursed your lips. "Didn't you say Sarah's only going to get home at ten?"

"Yeah, why?"

You weren't sure and would never be sure how you grew to be so bold, but that night you knew what you wanted and you weren't going to let him leave until he at least knew it too. "I want you to stay."

"Why? You got something else that needs to be done?" he inquired obliviously.

One thing was clear to you in that moment - Joel Miller hadn't been flirted with in a long time, or at least had been too busy to notice.

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes at him again and instead placed a hand on the back of his neck.

"I want you," you whispered.

You felt him stiffen under your touch and the next thing you knew he was pressing his soft, plump lips against your own in a heated kiss. He pulled away moments later instead of deepening it, but it had gone on long enough to leave you breathing out heavier than you were before.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't have done that without asking."

"I wanted you to," you told him, cupping his face and guiding it back to yours. His mouth opened and you slid your tongue in, sliding it alongside his as you let out a hungry moan. He tasted good.

His hands wandered slowly down the sides of your body, tracing the outline of it until he reached your hips and curled his fingers around them. "Is this alright, sweetheart?"

You nodded vigorously and leaned into him, desperately trying to deepen your shared kisses even more. He guided you to the nearest wall and pressed you up against it as he parted his mouth from yours to kiss down your face to your neck, nibbling over your pulse, and your eyes fluttered shut to focus on the sensation of his teeth scraping the sensitive skin there. "Joel," you mewled.

"You sure you want me?" he asked as he jerked away. "Shit, I don't have any condoms anyway."

"That's okay," you said quickly, afraid he was about to put a stop to what was happening. "I have an implant and I've been tested recently. I haven't been with anyone since. You?"

"Last test was years ago, but I ain't been with anyone since then either," he promised.

You believed him. He was so invested in earning money and raising his daughter right it didn't surprise you he hadn't taken any time to be romantic with anyone in a long time. The thought made you yearn for him even more. Nothing was more attractive to you than a man who put his family's needs before his own. Who'd do anything for them, no matter the cost.

You found his lips again and reached down to unbuckle his belt, but he shoved your hands away. "Not here," he murmured in your ear.

He led you down the hallway to your bedroom, kissing you as you went.

He reached to turn on the light in the dark room but you stopped him. He frowned. "That'll only allow me to see the blue painted walls," you explained. "I don't need that right now. Right now I just want to feel you. To see you."

He immediately understood, guiding your hand to his face and you moved your fingers over it to study him, to get an idea of the main features of his face, and he silently stood there and let you. His thick eyebrows, his long lashes, the laughter lines around his eyes, his sharply curved nose, his neatly trimmed beard, and those soft lips, now puffy from their interactions with your own - you realized he was even more handsome than you'd thought.

"Like what you feel?" he questioned a few beats after you lowered your hand to rest over his shoulders, like the other one was.

"Definitely," you answered. "But a pretty face isn't what's going to satisfy me."

He groaned softly and found your mouth again as you focused on taking off his belt, chucking it to a far side of the room with a clink of metal on hardwood as his hands slipped under your shirt.

"Can I take this off?" he asked.

"Only if I can unbutton yours first," you replied, fingers finding the top button of his flannel shirt.

He patiently waited as you worked on all the buttons then chucked the shirt and the one underneath away as your hands took to his broad chest. You only pulled away long enough to fulfill your end of the bargain, to help him remove your blouse.

He explored your mouth again, needy. You could feel the pent up tension underneath his skin, could feel the hardness of his bulge as he pressed you closer to him, his hands splayed widely on your lower back. He was near desperate for you.

You unbuttoned his jeans and slipped a hand into his boxers, running your hand over his length, giving it a squeeze and a pump. He lurched forward, into your touch with a loud grunt. "I can't take that," he panted as he stepped back. "Not tonight, honey."

The rest of your clothes swiftly found a place on the floor and you found yourself being pressed into your mattress by his body as he covered you and lit you on fire with the gentle touches of his rough hands.

Though he was clearly in need of you, he took his time with you, kissing down your neck and chest, sucking on and swirling his tongue around both your nipples, nibbling the skin over your belly, trying to draw out as many gasps from you as he could. He got a lot. The feeling of his mouth on you, his body over you, it was almost satisfying enough. Almost.

"Now, Joel," you begged.

You felt one of his hands make its way between your legs to gently spread them apart, to slip his fingers through your folds, and he pulled them back almost immediately, to examine them. "Damn, honey, you're already soaked."

"Been thinking about this for a while," you explained. It had been a long week.

"Won't make you wait longer then," he told you, and you felt his left hand go to the outside of your thigh as he guided himself slowly into you with his right one. He was thick, but not unbearably so, and you threw your head back onto your pillow as he perfectly filled you up, clutching at the sheets underneath you at the same time.

He held himself above you as he began to slowly pump into you, making sure you felt every ridge and vein of his cock as he dragged it along inside your heat, and you wrapped your arms around his impressive shoulders, tugging his head down to kiss him between the soft gasps you released every time he pushed back into you.

He built you up like a man with all the time in the world, taking every opportunity to caress you and taste your salty skin. And while you couldn't see anything in the dim room, you could feel his intense gaze as you chanted his name breathlessly.

"You're so pretty, sweetheart," he rasped into your ear. "Especially like this. Making those sounds. Saying my name like that. Need to feel you come."

He lifted one of your legs up, draping it over his elbow, and the new angle had you breaking apart with a loud moan, colors bursting behind your eyes as you convulsed around him. It was the best climax you'd had in a long time.

Joel continued to seek his own pleasure through your high, grinding into you a little harder every time he buried himself to the hilt, inadvertently prolonging it, not that you minded in the slightest. You kissed and nipped at his jawline and murmured to him as you tried to focus on the feel of him moving inside you. "Let go, Joel. I wanna feel it. Want you to feel this good too."

He gave you a few quick bucks before his body finally seized up and you felt him pulsing as he emptied himself inside you, as he gritted out your name and buried his face into your chest. When he did, you ran your hands up and down his spine as you smiled up at the ceiling, soaking in the moment.

You'd had some daydreams about what this would be like, but it had turned out even better, not that you were surprised.

Once he'd gone soft, Joel separated himself from you, rolling onto his back with a satisfied sigh, and you rolled onto your side to face him.

"This feels backwards," he said quietly after noticing and turning to face you too. "But would you like to go out on a date with me next weekend?”

You laughed. “Yes, I’d love to.”

“Good,” he said swiftly. “Cause I don’t want to leave this here.”

"Me neither.”

"I shoulda taken you out first, though.”

"I'm the one who started it," you argued as he reached out and rubbed your cheek with a thumb. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the sweet, unassuming affection.

"That is true." You were cupping his cheek with your left hand so you felt it when the edges of his mouth tugged back into a grin.

"I don't have any regrets," you told him. "You?"

"I'd be crazy to say I do, sweetheart," Joel replied. "It would be more than a little white lie. I haven't thought about being with someone like this in a long time, almost forgot why I like it so much. You've really jogged my memory."

You snorted at that and draped an arm over his chest. "Can you stay for a while?"

"Still got a few hours before that movie ends," Joel said, pulling you even closer. "I could use a nap if you set an alarm."

"Gladly," you told him, reaching over to the nightstand for your alarm. After you were finished with the task, he dragged you back into his embrace and you both fell asleep just like that, in the comfort of each other’s warmth.

It was the first of many nights that would end that way for you both.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Main Masterlist

#The Last Of Us (HBO) #TLOU Fanfic (Mine) #Joel Miller Fanfic #X Reader #Fanfiction #Mine

[honey-beann]

Ruiner, Ruination (RK900 X Reader)

Chapter 8: An Uneasy Aftermath - Constellations and Well-Paired Colors

Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis:

Part 1 of a multiple part special in which Reader and Nines struggle to manage their concern for one another now that their respective injuries have forced them both to realize how destructible the other truly is.

This chapter includes a realization, a promise, a shower, some sharing, a minor wardrobe malfunction, and a great deal of longing and overthinking from both our beloved reader and everyone's favorite android.

AKA - Reader and Nines each contemplate how the other makes them feel, and struggle to reach the necessary conclusions afterward.

Word Count: 5,863

"Detective, I can assure you that while I appreciate your concern, there is really no reason for you to supervise me. My systems are entirely operational, including those involving the temporary parts installed earlier today."

You rolled your eyes at your partner while he attempted to persuade you to go home for the fifth time in three minutes as you stood in his kitchen, inspecting the pristine surface of the counter there with what was almost awe.

Of course, you hadn't expected your android partner's apartment to be dirty by any means, there was almost no reason for it to be given the fact that he didn't eat, drink, or sleep, but even so, this was just absurd.

There wasn't even a speck of dust anywhere, the cabinets were stocked with easy to grab nutritional food sources (likely so he could ensure you always had breakfast should you forget to eat it in the mornings before work), and the fridge was sparkling clean despite the thirium drinks found within, which you were almost certain Nines must have been gifted. He didn't strike you as a man who chose to consume literally anything, android beverages or media alike, for pleasure.

Still, even despite your fairly apparent surprise, you willed yourself to turn around and cross your arms at your partner before replying to his previous persuasions.

"Nines, you put me down as your emergency contact, let them call me, watched as I embarrassed myself after thinking that something terrible had happened to you, and then you revealed that you had weaseled your way into my personal health files weeks ago like it was a totally normal thing to do. No matter what you say to me, I'm not going anywhere, because I'll be damned if you don't learn some kind of lesson by being forced to have me babysit you for the night."

Nines gave a hum in response, a slight smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth as he shrugged and turned to make his way toward the living room,

"Whatever you say, Detective, but I don't think I loathe your presence quite enough to view it as punishment. You are getting there, though."

You scoffed at that and followed him into the next room, fighting the urge to gape at the cleanliness of this one as well as you watched your partner move to take a seat in an armchair nearby, one long leg crossing over the other as a hand moved to rest upon his knee in a way that had you staring at his fingers for what you imagined was far too long before you finally caught yourself and looked away, cheeks dusted a light pink as you cleared your throat.

"Well even if I wanted to, we both know I can’t just leave. You heard the technician, Nines, someone needs to stay with you for at least the next six hours to observe you and make sure there are no negative reactions to the temporary parts she had to install while you wait for the new ones to be manufactured and shipped out. That temporary circulatory pump is a huge concern, and you need to be careful not to overwhelm it so you don't risk damaging your thirium pump. She already told you how serious it could be if you aren't careful, especially in these first few hours as your systems get used to the less functional temporary parts." 

Nines all but rolled his eyes at your words as he leaned further back against the chair, watching you intently as he did so,

"The chances of me becoming overwhelmed, be it physically or emotionally, are incredibly slim, Detective. I was not built to experience such things."

"You also weren't built with temporary parts meant for an entirely different and non-military model of android, Nines."

You countered easily, choosing that moment to start looking around the living room rather than just stand in its doorway.

Carefully, as if afraid you might create a mess in the area simply by virtue of being there, you made your way over to a wall fitted with a large fireplace, and opened your mouth to comment on how dramatic it looked all decked out in black wrought iron, when you suddenly caught sight of the mirror that rested on the mantle and halted before you could say a single word.

In all your eagerness to bring Nines home and get him to let up on his insistence that your presence was unwarranted, you had completely forgotten about all the blue blood that decorated you and your clothing.

It stained your white button up, made dark marks on your brown pants, and was sprayed in disorganized spatters across your neck, cheeks, forehead, and hair.

But the most notable stain of all was the nearly perfect handprint, devoid of any fingerprints, that was wrapped around your right wrist.

You stared at that handprint, hands shaking slightly at your sides as you swallowed thickly, trying to keep the sound of a bullet hitting strong plastic out of your mind as you fought off the tears that sprang to your eyes at the memory.

Just this morning you had celebrated the fresh absence of your sling,

And only three hours afterward you had been hovering above your partner’s body, struggling to stop the blue blood from seeping out of the open bullet wound just below where his ribs would have been located if he’d had any.

And now you were standing in that same partner's apartment at 4:00pm, staring at the way that his blood covered your clothing and bare skin.

Everything had happened so fast, and you felt your mind reel as you tried your best to keep up with the events that had occurred throughout the day thus far.

Your vision grew cloudy as you stood there, swaying slightly in front of the fireplace, staring deep into your own reflection unblinkingly.

That is, until you felt a familiar hand graze the sleeve along your right wrist, instantly bringing you back to Earth.

There, standing at your side, was Nines, perfectly healthy and glancing down at you with what almost appeared to be worry.

"There is a shower in the bathroom down the hall, the second door on your right. You're welcome to use it."

You took a brief moment to consider how the hell your partner had figured out your inner thoughts so easily before brushing off the confusion and turning to face him better, offering him a small and slightly fragile smile,

"That would be great, but I don't really know how much good it would do me. When I checked earlier the only spare clothing in my trunk was a pair of jeans, which means I won't have a shirt to replace this one..."

You trailed off as you looked down towards that handprint once more, though you snapped back to attention immediately when Nines spoke up,

"If it is any consolation, Detective, I do not believe the blue blood present on your shirt will be visible for much longer."

You sighed in response, trying not to look too uncomfortable at his attempt to provide some semblance of comfort as you spoke,

"I know but... there's just something about it being there, even if I can't see it, that just doesn't sit right with me."

Nines was silent for a moment before he gave a sudden and rather sharp nod at your words.

"I will see what I can do. In the meantime, though, I really must insist that you take a shower. The longer thirium remains on the skin, the harder it becomes to scrub off."

You shuddered slightly at the thought of not being able to get your partner's blood off of you, and gave an almost immediate nod of agreement,

"Okay, yeah, then I should definitely shower, but you've gotta promise me you won't just leave while I'm in there."

Nines' lips curled upward ever so slightly at your words, amused by your persistent concern for his well-being but plenty willing to give in to your foolish requests if it meant you becoming more relaxed.

He hummed,

"I promise, Detective. Is that all?"

You considered his question for a few seconds before giving a slow and thoughtful nod in response, 

"Yeah, I think so. Anything I should know about the bathroom?"

Nines replied immediately, without requiring even a single moment of contemplation,

"The lock is on the door handle, the fan is to the left of the light switch, and you can lower the blinds to the window by pressing the button beside them, though I'm sure you aren't nearly tall enough for anyone to see anything indecent from the parking lot. In addition to this, you can find shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and most other common hygiene products beneath the sink. Feel free to utilize anything you find there. When you exit the shower, you should find two towels hung up to your right. Both are clean, though I do utilize the black one for myself when necessary, so be aware of that if the idea of using a towel I have used in the past causes you any discomfort."

Surprised by the sudden influx information, you spent a moment blinking rapidly before remembering that you were probably supposed to give some form of response to that,

"Oh okay, uh, thanks for letting me know. I'll see you after?"

Nines gave a hum of what you assumed was agreement before he began to walk toward the hallway he had mentioned you could find the bathroom in previously.

He pushed open the door to said bathroom and flicked on the light in two extremely fluid motions before continuing down the hall until he reached a closed door at the very end.

Said door opened to reveal a quick glance at a bed donning a soft looking black comforter and many plush looking gray silk covered pillows before Nines stepped in, his large form obscuring your view of the space as he made his way over to what you assumed was his closet towards a wall that you could not see from the angle you were standing at.

You watched for a few more moments after Nines walked out of view before you snapped yourself out of it and stepped onto the cool white tile of the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind you as you took in the space.

Shining white tiles with dark green accents covered the floor, and a similarly green backsplash was present in the area between the gold faucet sink and the gold trimmed mirror, both of which shone brilliantly as they caught the light, clearly very rarely used, and kept pristine despite that.

God, you were beginning to wonder if Nines might be even more of an eerily neat guy than you'd previously thought.

Deeming that consideration far too unimportant to dwell on further, you squatted down to better reach the cabinet beneath the sink, opening it to find a rather large number of toiletries stashed beneath.

Multiple rolls of toilet paper stacked neatly, a few bottles of shaving cream, a metal razor handle with disposable single blades, two bamboo hair brushes, a few packaged toothbrushes with different bottles of toothpaste standing beside them, some dental floss, a large bottle of mouthwash, dry shampoo, deodorant, and a container with different sorted sections containing things like hair ties, tweezers, scrunchies, barrettes, bobby pins, a sewing kit, and even menstrual products within its designated cubbies.

But what caught your attention above all else was the actual showering supplies, which consisted of your favorite bar of body wash, a biodegradable mesh soap bar bag, your favorite shampoo and conditioner, the exact scent of shaving cream from the very same brand that you always used at home, and the body scrub that went along with it.

You stared at these products for a while, taken aback at the idea that Nines had somehow figured out what you liked and purchased these things for you to have at his home should you ever need them, only to brush the idea off immediately, your cheeks burning at the thought.

Of course he hadn't done all this just for you, at best he had figured out what you used and assumed it was typical for all other humans as well, leading him to buy these things in case someone ever needed to take a shower at his place (excluding himself, of course).

You stood, shower supplies in hand, and placed them on the counter of the sink for a few moments as you moved to turn the water on, taking note of the two towels, one black and one green, that hung from the rungs. 

'Both are clean, though I do utilize the black one for myself when necessary, so be aware of that if the idea of using a towel I have used before causes you any discomfort.'

Is what Nines had told you earlier on, and you swallowed thickly at the idea of sharing a towel with your partner before shaking your head in embarrassment, desperate to rid yourself of the thought as you picked up your supplies once more, placing them down carefully where they belonged in the shower before beginning the process of stripping down, trying not to pay attention to the blue blood all over your clothes and body as you did so.

And then, after giving the temperature of the water one final check, you stepped in, giving an unintentional and almost surprising sigh of relief as you did so.

The water was hot and soothing against your tense muscles, and for just a few moments, you allowed yourself time to bask in that comfort despite the stressors awaiting you back out in the real world.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, as you began the process of scrubbing semi-dried blue blood off of your skin, Nines was exiting the master suite, having laid a white button up across his neat black comforter to await your need for it.

The shirt would likely be rather large on you, given that it was one of his, but since you claimed to have a pair of your own jeans in the car, he was confident that your outfit wouldn't be so excessively unfitted that it would look unkempt.

He sighed and looked toward his wrist to check his watch, a rather human habit he’d developed despite his constant ability to know the time at a moment’s notice without the use of a device that attached to his body.

It was 4:35 now, and you had only been in the shower for around five minutes.

He glanced towards the bathroom door, the dull slap of water hitting tile the only sound emanating from your general vicinity.

He then looked at the door to his apartment, considering his options.

He had made a promise not to leave, and intended to keep it, but even so, he knew it made almost no sense to wait for you to exit the shower just for him to go down and get you your jeans anyway, and it wasn't as if you could do so yourself without new pants to wear down to the parking lot below.

Plus, he had only promised not to leave, and you had neglected to define exactly what "leaving" entailed.

Nines gave a subtle smirk at that, deciding that with that logic, you had no ground to stand on as long as he didn't actually leave the property, which he had absolutely no intention of doing in the process of collecting your spare pair of jeans.

So, with that, the android made a beeline for the front door, grabbing both his house keys as well as your car keys before he stepped out into the hallway and locked his front door behind him.

He took the steps slowly and at his leisure, though he notably went two at a time the entire way down until he reached the entrance to his apartment complex, which allowed him access to the gated parking area.

Once outside, it was easy to unlock your car and locate your pants within the trunk before shutting and locking everything all over again, your jeans slung over his forearm the same way that his shirt had been previously as he leaned against your car and looked up toward his apartment, where he was shocked to see that you hadn't bothered with closing the blinds at the window that looked into the shower.

Thankfully, he had been right about the pane being too high up on the wall to reveal anything one might consider intimate, but even still, Nines found himself staring as you ran adept fingers through your hair, rinsing the shampoo from it with your eyes peacefully shut against the consistent barrage of water raining down from the shower head above.

He continued to watch in an almost curious manner for a few more moments before realizing you were likely close to finishing, a fact which caused him to move a bit faster up the stairs during his return to the apartment, unlocking the door with ease before stepping back inside and closing the door swiftly and silently behind him.

Nines listened closely, hearing the familiar sound of water on tile as he made his way down the hall and over to his bed to set your jeans down alongside his button up.

There.

You would likely be done any minute now, and when you were, you could -

Nines’ inner thoughts were cut off by the sound of your phone ringing from somewhere across the apartment, and as he focused more on the noise emanating from the device in order to find it, he felt his brow wrinkle in curiosity.

Where could you have left that?

As Nines began what would be a very short and simple search for your cell phone, you were finishing up in the shower, fighting back a shiver as you lightly ran the soap bag containing your favorite bar soap across your torso, the unfamiliar texture tickling your skin in an unexpected manner.

The perception of yet another foreign sensation had you thinking back to all of the other unfamiliar feelings you’d experienced lately, though one in particular seemed stuck at the front of your mind.

Without even realizing what you were doing, you allowed your thoughts to wander aimlessly to the way that Nines' hands had gently cradled your hips as he’d lifted you up to the ladder earlier that morning, and how similar the memory of those hands felt to the water that was now caressing your skin, causing light blue liquid to spill down the drain as it washed away the blue blood that had stubbornly remained despite your persistent scrubbing.

Suddenly, broken out of your reverie by a slight temperature shift in the water, you startled, cheeks hot with embarrassment when you realized what you’d been thinking of. 

God, what was up with you lately?

You had been thinking about Nines almost nonstop, particularly when it came to your more physical interactions, like when he had helped you in and out of your dress for the gala a few weeks back, or when you had grazed his neck at the same aforementioned event and received a rather surprising reaction from him in response.

But even still, despite the memories of the other physical moments that had occurred between the two of you, the recollected feeling of his strong hands gripping powerfully onto your hips as he’d lifted you up with an almost practiced ease had your mind reeling and your heart racing for reasons you were fairly certain you didn't want to consider further.

And even though you tried to convince yourself that these reactions were completely normal, you still found that guilt was getting the better of you.

This was Nines you were thinking about, the cold, stubborn, and calculating military model android that you called your partner, who, despite others’ perceptions of him, felt a great deal of responsibility and worry for your well-being, as well as the well-beings of many more on top of that.

You thought back to when he had been shot earlier that morning, how he had comforted you even while he was so seriously injured and in pain, and the fact that he had done so as if it were the only possible option.

In Nine's mind, ensuring your safety, be it emotional or physical, was of the utmost importance, even when his personal safety was at risk, and as much as he would likely deny that verbally, his actions spoke volumes.

Nines had been willing to endure what most would consider to be an immense agony with a straight face just to make you feel less worried for him,

And here you were, in his bathroom, unable to stop yourself from thinking of the way his hands had felt as they’d wrapped easily around your hips, his torso just inches behind your back while he’d lifted you mere moments later, that usual air of confidence somehow both annoying and reassuring all at once as he’d done so.

Fuck, you really needed to get a grip.

Grabbing the shower valve dial in a manner that could only be described as aggressive, you held back a squeak as you forced the temperature down further, dousing yourself in much colder water in an effort to end your unwelcome thoughts.

Just moments later though, you failed to hold back a second squeak at the sound of knuckles rapping thrice against the wooden door, before Nines' voice followed shortly thereafter,

"Detective, please come out at your earliest convenience. There is something that requires your immediate attention."

At those words, you found yourself cursing under your breath before reaching to turn the water off entirely, grabbing for a towel and wrapping it around yourself all the while.

Hurriedly, and with an almost impressive level of speed considering how slippery your environment was, you stepped out of the shower and onto the mat below before allowing your feet to press against the cool tile as you made your way over to the door, previously worn clothing forgotten in a heap below the towel rack as you reached to unlock and open it, allowing a gust of steam to exit the bathroom and pour out into the hallway instead.

There, standing against the wall opposite the bathroom, stood Nines, and you watched as his eyes scanned the length of your body before halting suddenly, as if he realized too late how that may have looked.

You chose to ignore it.

"What's going on?"

You all but panted out, tightening your towel dress around your chest and ensuring it was secure even as you spoke, suddenly far more aware of your lack of clothing now that Nines was watching you.

"You received a phone call regarding a case nearby. Our presence has been requested at the scene due to the state of the victim and the proximity of the crime in comparison to our current location."

Your eyes widened as Nines spoke, and you struggled to form a response as you realized what he was saying,

"Wait, but we were supposed to be taken off of the page list for the night after what happened earlier today. Was this some kind of mistake?"

Nines shrugged his shoulders,

"I am unable to discern the level of intent that was had by dispatch when they requested our support at the scene. I simply stated we would arrive as soon as is feasible."

You gawked at your partner's words, crossing your arms over the exposed skin of your chest as you gave him a look that could only be described as pure exasperation,

"Your technician said you needed to take at least the rest of the night off, why wouldn’t you just say that we're unavailable?"

Nines gave a dismissive hum, his hand moving in a manner that suggested the dilemma you had brought up was of very little importance.

"I saw no reason to turn down the case, as all that would do is delay the inevitable."

You scoffed, adjusting your towel again to ensure it was firmly tucked into itself before you placed a hand on your hip,

"And what exactly is the inevitable in this situation? That you blow a fuse trying to interrogate a suspect because you refuse to just take it easy until your new parts come in?"

Nines shook his head, replying as if your question had been far more sincere than it actually was,

"No Detective, the inevitable is that the department sends in someone else in our stead, they neglect to solve the case, and we are left to deal with the mess that they made in the process of their failure."

You rolled your eyes, but gave a relenting sigh that your partner knew meant you no longer had any hope of not joining him at the scene,

"There are literally three other people in the android crimes division, Nines, how much mess could they possibly make?"

The android in question gave you a rather pointed look and took a step back before gesturing toward his room,

"I am confident that I don't need to answer that question for you, Detective. Now, if you're finished in the bathroom, you're more than welcome to use the bedroom at the end of the hall to change. I took it upon myself to collect your jeans and find you a shirt while you freshened up."

You glared at your partner before begrudgingly agreeing, briefly heading back into the bathroom to grab the clothing you had abandoned on the floor previously to ensure that you would have undergarments to wear, since you severely doubted Nines' ability to procure those for you.

With that, you started making your way down the hall, taking note of the way that the android was quick to follow. 

"You broke your promise about leaving you know."

You stated matter of factly as you passed the threshold to the master bedroom, trying not to look as in awe of the large space as you actually were when you turned to face your partner, who tilted his head slightly in response to your words,

"On the contrary, Detective, I was actually very careful to keep it. I neglected to leave the property, and therefore did not leave in any meaningful sense of the word."

You rolled your eyes and placed a hand on the door, preparing to shut it in order to give yourself some privacy,

"Whatever you say, Nines. Is there anything else you need, or can I get changed now?"

Nines shook his head,

“No, there is nothing else that I require, Detective. I’ll wait here in the hallway in case there’s anything you may need.”

You gave a slight nod and muttered a soft "Thanks", before you closed the door, sighing gently while stepping back to sit at the edge of the large California King sized bed, the black comforter that covered it feeling slightly cool against your skin as you began to dry your hair to the best of your ability.

After finishing up with that, you stood and prepared to get dressed, even though the shirt Nines had provided would clearly be big on you.

You started with your undergarments before moving on to your pants, stepping into the familiar clothing with ease before you tugged the large white button up Nines had given you over your head, immediately noting just how soft the fabric felt against your skin, and how despite it clearly being clean, it still had that faint smell that reminded you so thoroughly of your partner.

Turning, you looked in the mirror, letting out a quiet chuckle at the sight of yourself in Nines' shirt, the sleeves hanging well past your hands in a way that made you look like a child playing dress up again.

You shook your head at the situation you’d found yourself in, tucking the front of the shirt into your jeans before threading your belt through the loops, doing your best to look as professional as possible despite your lackluster clothing options.

You were just about to glance toward the mirror and look at your reflection one final time when a set of three firm knocks on the door brought your attention elsewhere.

"You can come in!"

You shouted back, hearing the gentle click of the door opening just a few moments later as Nines slowly stepped into the bedroom, his gaze falling to your new clothing immediately.

Laughing a bit, you held your arms out and gave a slow spin,

"How do I look? Do android tailored shirts suit me?"

You asked sarcastically, watching as Nines cocked a brow and stepped forward, his gaze flitting across your form as he fully took in the sight of you, before finally, he opened his mouth to speak,

"The clothing is plenty suitable as long as you feel comfortable wearing it."

You rolled your eyes a bit at that, shrugging as you pushed the sleeves up towards your elbows messily, crinkling the fabric in disorganized patterns that had both sleeves falling back down towards your wrists unevenly as a result.

Nines all but scoffed at your actions,

"And how do you intend to inspect a crime scene with your sleeves getting in the way, Detective?"

You shrugged dismissively as you began to search for some sort of hair tie in the pocket of your jeans

"Eh, I'll roll them up on the drive over."

You grinned to yourself as you found an elastic in your back pocket, preparing to turn toward your partner to finish your conversation when you felt a light tug at the fabric of your sleeve, which had begun to dangle off your hand once more.

Surprised, you looked toward your left arm, where the sensation was coming from, only to find that Nines was holding it between two sets of fingertips, seemingly contemplating the fabric before he looked up at you expectantly,

"May I, Little Mouse?"

You blanched at the now familiar nickname before regaining your composure and nodding slowly, barely resisting the urge to sigh in exasperation,

"If you really think you have to, then sure, but I can do it myself, you know."

You clarified quietly, your voice sounding more than just a little breathless as you spoke.

"I believe you're perfectly capable, if that's what you're worried about, Detective. I simply believe my assistance might speed up the process for us both."

Not sure how to reply, you just nodded silently, ignoring the quickening pace of your heart as your partner stepped forward, now much closer as he lifted your hand up to his shoulder so he could roll the fabric of your borrowed shirt sleeve up your arm in tight and even folds. He continued with this until finally, he reached the area just above your elbow and stopped, using the button tab to hold the sleeve in place before he gestured for your right arm, placing your hand similarly upon his shoulder before he began the process once more.

You watched closely all the while, feeling almost in awe of Nines as you studied the way his face looked up close, counting the constellations of freckles that dotted his artificial flesh, and taking note of the way that his jaw shifted as he concentrated heavily on the task at hand, completely unaware of your watchful gaze as he worked.

However, what you were entirely unaware of yourself, was just how focused on you the android truly was.

Despite his consistent perfection when it came to the task at hand, his mind was much more occupied with the way you looked in his clothing.

His shirt, that had been tailored explicitly for him and no one else.

He had never considered before that something made solely for him could look so right on someone else, much less his smaller human partner, but even so, he found himself enamored by the way your fingers had wrapped around the sleeves as they had dangled below your hands, and the way the shirt seemed to flutter about your body even after you had tucked the front of it into your jeans.

But above all else, his mind was stuck on how well the color of the fabric looked against your skin despite its neutral tones, as if you had been the person made to wear it all along.

He broke himself out of his internal reverie just as he began buttoning the second sleeve in place, his artificial breaths that he hadn't consciously chosen to pause starting up once more as he rooted himself firmly in reality again.

Despite him clearly being finished, the two of you remained in that position for just a little while longer, him with his fingers brushing gently against the skin of your arm, and you with your hand holding loosely to his shoulder, your faces suddenly seeming much closer than just seconds before as he lowered his gaze from your sleeve in order to meet your eyes, the intensity of his piercing gray/blues shocking you for a moment before you managed to regain your composure, clearing your throat lightly as you lowered your hand from his shoulder hesitantly, your gaze slowly dropping away from his and instead moving to the mirror to the right of you, where you found your reflections staring back, unyielding in their persistent attention.

Suddenly though, you watched as Nines' LED briefly circled yellow just seconds before your phone gave it's familiar notifying chirp of a work page, causing you to groan and look around for it, only to have Nines give a subtle smirk and roll of his eyes before pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to you with only a silent quirk of his brow that nearly made you want to punch that slightly smug look off his face.

He always found amusement in how easily you lost things or sometimes even outright forgot them, leaving him to remember their importance and carry them on his person in order to ensure the two of you remained at "peak efficiency".

You, on the other hand, were not nearly as big a fan of how often he'd been right regarding your persistent forgetfulness, even when you were actively trying to remember everything that you needed.

Sighing, you reached over to take your phone from your partner, mumbling out an annoyed “Thanks.” before you checked your most recent work notification and frowned, glancing up at the android standing before you,

"Are you sure you want to do this? We can just call out."

Nines didn't even seem to give your question any thought before he simply nodded and pulled your car keys from his pocket, spinning them around on his index finger casually,

"I'm sure, Detective. Is there anything else you need before we go?"

Letting out yet another sigh of pure exasperation, you shook your head, barely resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you replied,

"Nope, nothing else. Let's get this night over with."

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[i-choose-the-danger]

Lesson Learned

Whoa, new fic alert! I'm surprised at how quickly I wrote this one. Don't expect that speed to become a habit though. 😂 This is a Hogwarts Legacy fic, so obviously if you play the game or plan to and wish to avoid spoilers, you should probably save this fic for later.

Summary: Ominis has offered to help the new fifth-year student catch up on learning charms. Sebastian gets volunteered as tribute to be the student's practice dummy, and also learns never to go behind his best friend's back again. Fic below the cut.

**A little background info for those of you who don't know anything about the characters but still want to read it and not feel completely lost:

Ominis Gaunt (yes of THAT Gaunt family) and Sebastian Sallow are 5th-year Slytherin boys and they've been besties since they met at school

Anne Sallow, mentioned a few times, is Sebastian's twin sister who became too ill to go to school any longer and now stays home

Ominis is blind, born that way (not something I made up, it's canon)

The other student is the "main character" aka the player in the game/story, and they've started Hogwarts as a 5th-year so they have a LOT to catch up on

For the purposes of this fic, the character is a female Slytherin and I've named her Kathryn

the "Undercroft", where this fic takes place, is basically a hidden room in the castle that only Ominis's family knows about... Ominis only shared this secret with Sebastian who then shared it with the main character when he shouldn't have

I think that's all the background info you need to know if you don't know the game's storyline. Time-wise, this fic takes places somewhere in the middle of the school year, after Sebastian told the other student about the Undercroft and I'd say not long before they start looking for the Scriptorium for those of you who know the storyline.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kathryn anxiously paced in a circle across the stone floor in a corner of the Undercroft. Her nerves getting the better of her, she fidgeted with the spell book in her hands and began to rotate it cover over cover as she walked. There was a lot of work she needed to do if she was to get her magical knowledge up to snuff with the other fifth-years before the O.W.L. exams began at the end of next term. The one subject she seemed to excel at was potions, which Ominis struggled with quite a bit. In exchange for tutoring him, he had offered to go over charms he'd been taught in his earlier years. Kathryn was about to give up on waiting when she noticed the red glow pulsing and growing brighter near the entrance gate.

"Oh good, you made it!" Kathryn exhaled. She smiled as the gate lifted and Ominis strutted underneath it as he extinguished his wand. She took a seat on the floor, folding her legs underneath herself and placing the spell book beside her. "I was starting to think that you'd forgotten." Her fingers buried themselves in her long dark hair and twisted around the strands.

"I promised you that I would come. You know I'd never break my word. I had to make sure there were no prying eyes around." Ominis furrowed his brow when he realized her voice came from below him. "Are you sitting on the floor?"

"It's usually how I study."

"Well, that will not do. You deserve better than cold stone. Just a moment." Ominis didn't need his wand to navigate the Undercroft. Having spent so much time down there over the past four years, the area was completely committed to memory. He disappeared around a corner and came back just as quickly pulling what looked like two large green velvet couch cushions behind him.

"Where in the world...?"

"I deserve a medal for being able to memorize and navigate Sallow's 'organized chaos', as he calls it, down here." He handed a cushion to Kathryn and dropped the other behind himself before sitting down onto it. "Much better. Did you have anything specific you wanted to go over today?"

"Madam Scribner helped me find a copy of Standard Book of Spells for first-years with braille and said I could keep it for the term as long as I bring it back in perfect condition." She placed the book on Ominis's knee and kept her hand on top of the cover until he took the book in his hands. As he started to flip through pages, she added, "I feel silly having to look through a first-year book and not knowing some basic spells and charms. I really do appreciate you offering to help."

"I don't mind. Sebastian brought you here to have a safe space to practice, so it only makes sense to utilize your time learning what you can."

"I still feel bad about that. If I'd known it was your family's private-"

"Nonsense," Ominis cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "That fault lies with Sebastian, not you. I feel awful about snapping at you when I found out, so I suppose that makes us even."

"Fair enough. I got up to page thirty-two before morning classes started. I managed to spongify one of my books, which was fine until I realized I didn't know how to undo it and it bounced around every time I put it down." Kathryn huffed at herself, taking a seat on the cushion Ominis had given her.

"Ah, rookie mistake. Always learn a counter spell first." Ominis turned several pages in the spell book. "Twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two..." He brushed his fingers across a line of bumps on the page and let out a quiet chuckle.

"What?" Kathryn asked.

"It's an... amusing spell," he told her. Ominis leaned his head from side to side in thought. "It's not one you see used very often. I don't think I've ever seen it used during classes."

"Well, now you've piqued my curiosity." Kathryn craned her neck to try to read the page Ominis had the book opened to in his lap. She lightly tapped a fist against his knee. "Come on. I want to cram the past four years of your knowledge into my brain before Christmas break. What is it?"

"It's called rictusempra." Ominis grimaced as a small wave of embarrassment came over him. "It's a tickling charm," he added, angling his face down towards the book in his lap.

"I beg your pardon? You're kidding." Kathryn scoffed and looked up at Ominis, whose cheeks were now dusted a shade of pink. "You're not kidding. Is it that bad? What happens if I use it?"

"It's what one would expect. It hits you here," Ominis mumbled, bracing an open palm over his stomach. He stretched his fingers out and wiggled them around. "It feels warm and kind of fuzzy at first, but then it wriggles out and becomes increasingly unbearable. It tickles like mad and you have no way to block it because it feels like it comes from inside you, if that makes any sense. Ugh..." Ominis buried his face in his hand and could feel himself blush.

"You speak from experience. Sebastian used it on you, didn't he?"

"Oh goodness me, Sebastian knows better than to try something like that. He may be brash and completely reckless, but he's not suicidal." Ominis closed his eyes and laughed at a memory sparked from the conversation. He gazed in Kathryn's direction. "It was Anne, his twin sister. I can't remember why, but I was in a foul mood and they were having none of it. Sebastian tried to cheer me up and nothing helped. Then I heard her cast the spell and I reacted almost instantly." He shuddered and scratched around his torso as if he could still feel the effects of the spell. He felt a light squeeze at his ribs and jerked away from the touch with a gasp, swatting his hand out towards Kathryn. "Noooo no no. That's not wise."

"So you're already ticklish to begin with," Kathryn giggled. She thought for a moment and looked at the book that was still open to the spell page in Ominis's lap. "This doesn't say what happens if you cast the spell on someone who isn't ticklish though. Would it have the same effect on them or would it be useless?"

"You really do have a habit of making me think of things differently, don't you?" Ominis quirked an eyebrow while he thought over the question. "I actually don't know. And you're the first person I know to even ask. I suppose we'd have to find a willing practice dummy."

At that moment, they heard the gate open behind them and heavy footsteps echoing down the stairs through the chamber.

"Ahh, there you two are. I figured you had to be down here when I couldn't find you in the common room or Great Hall. I guess this means you're not mad at me anymore for letting Kathryn into the Undercroft?" Sebastian directed at his best friend.

"Of course not. I understand why you let her down here. Whyever would I still be upset?" Ominis's tone was less than sincere, but Sebastian didn't pick up on it. "You have excellent timing though, Sebastian. You're a perfect dummy," he added, smiling as he imagined the scowl Sebastian must be wearing.

"I am NOT dumb!" Sebastian put his books down on a nearby chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"He means a practice dummy. No one is calling you dumb," Kathryn said, scolding Ominis by lightly backhanding his shoulder. "Ominis has been kind enough to spend time teaching me some charms and spells that you learned in previous years so I can catch up."

"Is that so? I can teach you spells that aren't in those books too. Just say the word." Sebastian felt a small pang of jealousy in that moment, even though he would never admit it. "So why do you need me to be your practice smarty?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake." Ominis groaned and rolled his eyes.

"This spell has to be used on a person and I didn't feel comfortable using it against Ominis. Besides, I wanted to test a theory." Kathryn stood and held out her wand towards Sebastian. "Odd question: are you ticklish?"

"What?!" Sebastian squeaked. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself and tried to remain calm as he took a few steps back. "I mean, of course not."

Sebastian glanced over at Ominis, who was wearing a smile that could only be described as pure evil. Ominis was fully aware of how sensitive Sebastian was, having heard him and his twin sister have countless tickle fights when they were younger.

"Oh, perfect! Let's see what happens then. Rictusempra!"

"No, wait!" Sebastian didn't have a chance to grab his wand and attempt to shield himself from the charm. A puff of silver glittery smoke shot out of the tip of Kathryn's wand and collided into Sebastian's torso. The boy gasped and instantly turned away from his friends as he doubled over, clawing at his vest.

"Did... did I do it wrong?" Kathryn asked.

"Not at all," Ominis replied in her direction. He stood and dropped the textbook back onto the cushion. "I suspect he's being stubborn and trying to fight it. What is he doing now?"

"He's kind of hunched over and jumping around like he needs to find a bathroom. I wish you could see him. It's utterly ridiculous." Kathryn clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her own laugh as Sebastian squealed.

"Rictusempra is meant to weaken your opponent. The spell starts to dissipate once its victim is too weak to function." Ominis heard Sebastian starting to hiss through his teeth to suppress his laughter. "Sebastian, you're only making it worse for yourself. And you're not being very helpful to Kathryn either. Bad form," he scolded. He cleared his throat to hide a deep chuckle when Sebastian squealed again. "She needs to see how these spells work to understand them."

As if on cue, Sebastian's legs gave out and he fell to his knees. He couldn't fight the wriggling sensations against his ribs and stomach any longer and giggles rumbled in his chest before flowing freely from his lips.

"Okay-hay-hay-hee-hee! She see-hee-hees!" Sebastian's dark hair was a complete frumpled mop over his eyes. His shirt was untucked and his vest was twisted around his torso as he continued to claw and swat at the tickling sensations pulsing through his body. "Please! I ca-ha-ha-ha-han't!" He was laughing so hard that his eyes were tearing.

"If you actually feel pity for him and want to stop the spell, there's another that would immobilize him. Simply aim your wand at him and say titillando," Ominis told Kathryn in a hushed tone.

"And that'll stop the spell?" Kathryn was skeptical knowing what the incantation translated to, but she knew Ominis wouldn't teach her a spell that would hurt someone. It seemed plausible to her that a counter-spell would have similar terminology.

"You have my word." It wasn't a lie... exactly. Ominis could never lie to her, but he was still quite the cunning Slytherin when the need called for it. He was also still annoyed at Sebastian for letting Kathryn into the Undercroft without his permission. There's that old saying about payback...

"Titillando!"

"Oh my God, NO!" Ghostly transparent purple-tinted hands appeared around Sebastian and started tickling any spot on him they could reach. He no longer had the strength to hold back his laughter and outright screeched before bursting into cackles and curling into a fetal position on his side as he repeatedly kicked at the air. "Help meeeee! I can't brea-hee-hee-heethe!"

"Ominis!" This time Kathryn backhanded his shoulder with a force that nearly knocked him off balance. "He's going to pass out."

"He'll be fine. The little prat had it coming. Just give it a minute." Ominis continued to listen to Sebastian's deep laughter and occasional squeal, closing his eyes and laughing himself as it reminded him of happier times they had together before Anne had gotten sick.

"I do not want to be sent to Azkaban for murder! Call them off!" Kathryn tried to sound stern, but she knew Ominis could sense the amusement in her voice.

"Very well. Spoil my fun then. Finite incantatem."

As Ominis spoke the spell and aimed his wand at Sebastian, the ghostly hands vanished. Sebastian spread out his limbs, collapsing face-down on the stone floor and taking in gulps of air.

"Sebastian?" Kathryn bit down on her thumb and felt incredibly guilty as Sebastian lifted his head and turned it to face her. "Are you... okay?"

"Don't. Touch. Me. You two... are in... SO... much trouble... when I can see straight," Sebastian mumbled in between fleeting breaths and residual giggles.

"Me?! I just did what Ominis told me!" Kathryn glared at the blond. "You said that would stop the spell!"

"Did it not? I was truthful," Ominis stated with a shtug. A red light pulsed from the tip of his wand as he held it out and slowly stepped over to where he could hear Sebastian still panting. Crouching beside his best friend, he kept his voice low. "I thought you knew me better, Sebastian. I never get mad at you. I get even." Ominis extended an arm and felt around until his hand touched Sebastian's hair. He gave it a few semi-sympathetic pats before standing back up. "Although, I do confess that I may have gone a tad bit overboard."

"If you could see how destroyed he looks... Overboard is an understatement," Kathryn sighed. She offered her hands to Sebastian and helped him to stand.

"Overboard?! I almost died. I felt my soul leaving my body." Sebastian draped an arm around Kathryn's shoulders and leaned against her as his other hand massaged into his aching ribs. "I'll let you off the hook this time because you're learning." He glared at Ominis through the dark curls that were still matted against his forehead from sweat. "YOU on the other hand, you'd better sleep with one-" he caught himself in the middle of his own sentence as he realized what he was saying.

"Oh I dare you to finish that," Ominis hissed. He chuckled darkly. "Anne isn't the only one who knows your weak points. Perhaps I should teach Kathryn the body-bind spell next and you can show her how well it works."

"Perhaps you two can keep me out of your nonsense and just help me with my homework so I don't fail and watch you go on to sixth year without me," Kathryn interjected.

"Quite right. I apologize. We have work to do," Ominis admitted.

"I need a shower... and a nap now." Sebastian let go of Kathryn and stood up straight, wincing at the soreness in his torso from laughing so hard. "This is far from over though. Watch yourself," he added to Ominis as he passed by to head back to their dormitory.

"He's not serious, is he? I'm going to feel horrible if I started something between you two." Kathryn folded her arms over her chest.

"Not to worry. Our friendship is complicated, but solid." Ominis' jaw clenched as he thought about his siblings. "As I hate my actual family, I assume this is how real brothers would get along. He'll forget about it by tomorrow."

"I'll take your word for it. Let's go over a few more spells before dinner, hmm?" Kathryn sat back down and grabbed the spell book, flipping through pages. "Preferably some I can use in dueling. I have a feeling Sebastian won't go easy on me if Professor Hecat pairs us up again."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The end! Hopefully y'all liked it. I have other Hogwarts Legacy drabbles knocking around in my head too. I love these two Slytherin boys so much. 😭 As always, likes and comments and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged. Thank you! 💗💗

#Ominis Gaunt #Sebastian Sallow #original character #Hogwarts Legacy #Slytherin #rictusempra #fanfic #tickle fic #ticklish!Sebastian #I feel like there needs to be a sequel #but I have other ideas for those boys #I'm becoming obsessed with them

[shoot-of-corruption]

Solar Plexus Chakra & Millennium Ring

Today, I'll take you on a wild esoteric journey concerning chakras and their influence on the Millennium Items!

We'll start on the Millennium Ring here and the two (three?) souls tied to it, namely Ryou Bakura and Yami Bakura (and the Thief King, should you consider the ring spirit as a separate entity, as I usually do).

First and foremost, we'll dive into a concept that has been long since a centrum of Hinduism and Buddhism and has become more relevant again due to yoga and some esoterical views and writings, exactly chakras.

A few of you probably know about them already (from AtlA for example) but for those of you, who are unaware, chakras are believed to be focal points in your body, that are subtly or not so subtly able to influence your health and general mental well-being.

Chakras run along the length of your spine up towards the very top of your head, like so:

The chakra we're looking at today is the "Solar Plexus chakra" which is placed right below the chest, where the torso goes over into the stomach area slowly.

Or THIS area right here:

or, you guessed it, right about here:

So, while our Millennium Ring is wildly chaotically changing in rope length during Manga and Anime, it is at least often shown and through the tablet represented in an area around chest and stomach, right above the 3rd or solar plexus chakra.

What does that mean for our characters though?

As I have written earlier, the chakra influences the mental and physical state and allrogether well-being of our character.

It represents, in the human body POWER, SELF-CONTROL, WILL, VITALITY, PURPOSE and DIRECTION.

It is also firmly connotated as a FIRE elemental.

When the chakra is imbalanced, aka too powerful compared to the others, it can cause you to become DOMINANT, BLAMING, SCATTERED and constantly active, so pretty much RESTLESS.

Huh, weird. Characteristics, we have very much seen in both Thief King and Yami Bakura over the course of the series.

What happens, when the influence of the chakra is weaker imbalanced then, or even deficient?

It may well cause WEAK WILLEDNESS, POOR SELF-ESTEEM, EXAGGERATED PASSIVENESS, the feeling of SLUGGISHNESS and alltogether FEARFULNESS.

Weirdly accurate descriptions of what Ryou Bakura has to face during his possession of the Item.

What tends to block your healthy usage of this chakra is the most heartbreaking though.

SHAME. Created due to trauma, stored emotions or learned patterns.

Both Thief King and Ryou Bakura are ashame about having been to weak/unable to help their loved ones, they just 'resolve' their struggles with this on the exactly opposite exaggerated spectrum. While the Thief overacts the chakra, Ryou completely blocks and underwhelms it.

The only way to recover balance and control over this chakra and 'unblock' it is Self-Assertation and Self-Compassion, sadly both characters throughout the series fail spectacularly at recovering their ground concerning this issue.

It is no wonder that Yami Bakura speaks of himself as "Ore-sama" and it's also no wonder that Ryou doesn't seem to find a strong footing in a friend group!

The moment's when Ryou does assert himself are glorious powerhouse movements and in my eyes, it's not even weird that he triumphs over Bakura in those moments!

Following this knowledge, it is no wonder that the spirits of the Kul Elna villagers chose the Millennium Ring as a dwelling place and it is no wonder that the Thief ended up there with them.

It is the most balancing and vital chakra of your body and a lot of religions believe that the stomach houses the soul, not your chest or the heart!

They aren't interested in spiritual power, the raw need to survive inside something to simply cling to vitality and the last shreds of life conducted them directly into the stomach area, towards the Solar Plexus chakra, directly into the Millennium Ring, sitting over the most influxing power source of the whole body.

THIS WAS A LOT TO TYPE ON PHONE!!

I hope you enjoyed it!! :3

#ooc #headcanon #esoteric #chakra #solar plexus chakra #analysis #i am sure there is even more things to be found that underlines this #ryou bakura #yami bakura #thief king bakura #yugioh #long post

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

i thought that people sexualizing the scene where zuko ties katara to a tree in fanfiction was something that died out or at least was tagged properly, but no, just earlier today i skimmed a recently published gen fic that did just that. funniest part of it is that they wrote that ZUKO returned the necklace to katara and not aang (which is obviously incorrect) and that katara shamefully viewed it as a pseudo proposal?? not the most heinous thing ever written by a zutara shipper but it's wild to me

Extra dumb since those necklaces were used for proposals in the NORTHERN Water Tribe, not the South. We even see that Katara had no idea that this tradition even existed.

And even if she HAD known about it - would she really expect Zuko, the prince of the nation that is commiting genocide because they want to impose their own culture as the "correct" one, to know about that tradition? Or to care about it at all if by some miracle he ever learned of it? I sure wouldn't.

Katara would either just assume that he has no idea of what giving a necklace like that to a girl means, OR be very mad that he is essentially mocking a tradition of her people - because let's not forget, he is being clearly hostile, is using that as bribe to try and get her to help him capture one of her closest friends, and even in the show he is TAUNTING her with the fact that he has something he knows belongs to her. She would not see it as romantic in any way.

Also, since we're talking about that necklace, can we talk about how Zutarians love to use "Oh, Zuko found her necklace and tried to give it to her! That's clearly foreshadowing a zutara endgame!", while completely ignoring that:

1 - Like I said, neither of them knew what that necklace was made for.

2 - Katara REJECTED Zuko's offer, but accepted the necklace when AANG was the one to give it back to her and even kissed his cheek.

3 - Katara and Aang openly mock the very thought of Zuko giving that necklace back to her as a way to be genuinely nice because the idea is that absurd.

4 - This happens after "The Fourtune Teller", aka the episode in which we first see Katara start to wonder if maybe Aang could one day be more than just her friend.

5 - While Katara and Aang don't know that the necklace is basically a wedding ring, the moment they exchange IS romantic because of the very specific way they are behaving with each other - which could not have been more different from Zuko attacking Katara and her being rightfully mad about it.

Funny how all of their "foreshadowing" is really meant for Kataang but taken completely out of context. It's the same thing with their claim of "The story of Oma and Shu is meant to parallel Zutara!" even though the episode has Katara and AANG's first kiss, the music theme of both couples is the same, and in the last episode of that season we'd have Katara going berserk after Aang's death, just like Oma did after Shu's death.

#anti zutara #pro kataang

[massivewaffle]

One Way to Defeat A Wither (Chapter 1)

Paring: GoodTimesWithScar x Female Reader  Word Count: 4718 Rating: Chapter 1 is PG. Chapter 2 is EXPLICIT Warnings: Nothing for this chapter aside from Minecraft in game death mechanics. Chapter two will have explicit smut, so be advised if you follow the story. 

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39187023

Summary: When Grian jokingly unleashes the forces of the Scar Wither upon spawn, no one bats an eye. That is until GoodTimesWithScar suddenly becomes a very, very Bad Scar indeed. 

AKA “The one where Scar gets possessed by a Wither and fucks reader”

A/N: This fic will be 2 chapters. This chapter (Chapter 1) is purely flirting and set up. All smut will be contained within Chapter 2, which I hope to have out by the end of the week if everything goes well. 

The beginning of a new Hermitcraft seed is to you what Christmas Day is to others. There are always some residual feelings of melancholy when it comes to leaving the old world behind and, with it, all the beautiful things the Hermits have created. That being said, memories live on, and as you age, you realize how important it is to reset yourself both physically and mentally once in a while. You can only grow if you keep pushing yourself to try new things, and everything you’ve learned in your first season on the server makes you ten times more determined to improve all of your builds for your second. 

The start of a new seed also brings the promise of change, and it is so rare for all the Hermitcraft members to be on equal ground. Elytra's are the first sign of the shift, so these early days of resource gathering feel special and warm in your heart. As usual, Joe is at spawn, collecting materials for Hermits Helping Hermits as the chaos reigns around him. 

You’re not entirely sure where you want to build your starter home yet, content to wander around the general spawn area to gauge what others are doing and whose bases are already growing exponentially. These Hermit’s do not mess around. 

Wandering up to the space Joe has dictated for material collection, you drop off a few stone swords and pickaxes to donate to the cause. You metaphorically struck gold earlier with not one but two iron veins on your first resource run, so you’re already decked out in full iron. Your items barely make it into the shared double chest before Scar barrels up, muttering to himself. While Scar is clumsy and death prone on the best day, today seems to be his absolute nightmare. Everyone’s communicator goes crazy with notifications on day one because of all the advancements, but Scar’s consistent death messages seem to be taking up a distressing amount of space. Respawning hurts. It’s not the worst pain you've ever experienced, but it’s not something you adjust to easily. 

Scar strides up to yourself and Joe, a jovial look on his face despite the pain you know he’s holding back. Though he’s hiding the pain, you can see him wince just a bit as he steps toward you and Joe.

“Hey there, Scar! Take whatever you need!” Joe says. You know Joe well enough to deduce he purposefully doesn’t inquire immediately regarding the mass amount of death messages in the chat.  

“Thank you, Joe! I might sell you out, though; this hasn’t been the best day for me resource-wise.” Scar admits, opening the shared chest and equipping some of the stone tools you had dropped off minutes before. 

“Yeah, so I noticed. You doing okay, buddy? Can I assist with anything?” Joe asks with genuine kindness. 

“Aw shucks, thank you, Joe, but I’m alright. It’s mostly been a combination of my own clumsiness and Mumbo and Grian knocking me into the “Boatem Hole 2.0.” 

You chuckle, catching Scar’s eye in the process. 

You’ve always found yourself inherently drawn to Scar; his personality and sense of humor spills from every pore. You find yourself attracted to his specific brand of genuine kindness and dedication to his craft. Those traits, paired with the glint of mischief behind his eyes, lead you to believe there are so many things about Scar you’ve yet to discover. Scar is attractive, there’s no denying that, and you find something about his smirky, knowing eyes and smile that is undeniably sexy. It’s a pretty open secret that you’re interested in him, you’ve never said anything about it explicitly, but you do see the knowing looks that others give you when you chat with Scar. 

Ever since you first arrived in Hermitcraft, you’ve never heard about Scar openly dating. You’re not even sure what his orientation is, but he flirts back with you often enough to indicate he’s at least a bit interested. That said, you’d never make a move or be too bold with him. Typically, you’re one of the most social server members, but you have to draw a personal boundary somewhere. There’s too much to lose this early in your Hermitcraft career if outing your crush leads to being alienated. If he’s interested, he can reach out; otherwise, you’re satisfied with this current relationship.

“Well, if you’re looking for a bodyguard, I’m available.” You offer. You love Mumbo and Grian dearly, but there’s nothing more fun than a taste of revenge. 

“Why, that would be ah-may-zin! Those two hooligans won’t know what hit them if they come at me again!” Scar exclaims, ending his statement with a wink. 

“I need to scope out base locations anyway, so this works for both of us,” you admit digging through your inventory and equipping your sword to your back. 

Joe hands Scar a few cooked pork chops with a knowing smile. 

“Just in case you need them. Try not to get tossed in any more holes.”

“Believe me; I’m steering clear of holes for a while! Unless, of course, I get lucky.”

Joe chokes on a cough upon Scar’s words, and Scar’s eyes widen as he processes his statement. 

“FOR A BASE. IF I FIND A HOLE FOR MINING!” Scar clarifies, stuttering as he waves his hands back and forth, hoping to magic himself away from his self-caused awkwardness.

Joe’s eyes shift to you, sending you the same look all the Hermits give when you find yourself partnered with Scar. You roll your eyes in response and wave goodbye as you follow a flushed Scar further into the woods behind spawn. 

“Everyone knows how my season has been so far; what’s going on with you?” Scar asks, walking a few steps ahead. Scar remains keenly aware of the world around him despite his devil-may-care nature, navigating over root-filled terrain and holding back branches for you to step around unharmed. 

“Not too bad,” you admit, slowing your steps to allow him to catch up to your pace. “Went out exploring for a bit, got a solid amount of materials, but that’s about it. I scouted around with Peal and Gem for an hour or two, but I’m not really feeling the birch vibe this season, so I’m still looking for a place to call home.”

“Ah yes. The first-day location struggles; I can relate. I’m building near Grian, just behind that little river, but I’m already contemplating my megabase spot.”

“Of course you are.”

“Oh? And what is THAT supposed to mean? Hmm?”

“Sorry, mister ‘non-stop grind,’ I know how you operate! If we’d allow you to pick a location on the first day, you’ll have your megabase half-built within a week.” You retort, smirking. Scar blushes, rolling his eyes as he shifts his gaze from you. 

“...well, that may be true. I don’t have a way to defend myself against that argument!” Scar admits, chuckling to himself. “You know me too well, hotshot; I can’t deny it!”

As you reach a small clearing, you can make out the silhouettes of Mumbo Jumbo and Grian in the distance. Scar goes running to scream at them, as is his way, but you grab at his sleeve, pulling him back to a secluded spot under a large tree. Scar stumbles as you pull him, losing his footing and tripping on an exposed tree root. Careening forward, he puts his hands up to catch himself. While safe and sound, his hands land on the tree behind you, effectively pinning you against it with a hand on either side of your head. Scar surrounds you, so close you can smell the woody scent radiating from his long, shiny elven locks. Scar stares down at you, eyes gleaming with mischief. From those green eyes to his all-knowing smirk, he's so incredibly handsome, his looks only enhanced by the scars littering his face, hinting at his life story. He leans in and you clench, overwhelmed by all of him surrounding you. His face passes, cheekbone grazing yours as his gloriously smooth voice purrs into your ear. 

“Wanna play a prank?”

The nerves surging through you expel with a nervous giggle. Of course pranks would be at the forefront of Scar’s brain. 

“When have I ever turned down the option to prank?” You ask, keenly aware that Scar’s mouth is within inches of your ear, your neck; all the places you’ve dreamed of Scar trailing over with those honeyed lips. 

Scar smiles a wide-tooth grin that occupies half his face as he pulls away, making sure he’s firmly planted on the ground before speaking. 

“See, that’s why I adore you. You always have your priorities straight!” Scar jokes, turning his back to you and squatting down to peer over at your fellow Hermits across the clearing. Your face blushes at his words, but you shake his kindness off as you lower to your knees to crawl next to him. 

“I’m thinking arrows. A surprise attack; Hawkeye style!” You offer, knowing how much Scar loves summoning his inner Hawkeye. 

“I’ll go chat to them, and if they start getting that feral look in their eyes, you pepper them with arrows since you’re the bow god around here. They won’t know what him ‘’em!” 

Scar seems dedicated to keeping the blush on your face, but you can’t give yourself away. 

“Bow God is ready for action!” You proclaim with a wink, digging through your inventory to switch from your sword to bow and arrow. Scar rifles through his own, dropping a few extra arrows for you before army-crawling away to a small path, making it look as though he was following the boys the entire time. 

As Scar steps into the light and heads toward Grian and Mumbo, you shift into position, rolling your shoulders a few times to loosen up before lining yourself up for a shot. Mumbo and Grian seem to be chatting with Scar, who deliberately stands at the edge of a cavern. Scar’s more self-aware than he seems, knowing Grian can never turn down the urge to shove Scar directly into danger. The moment Grian lifts his hand, you know he's planning to slap Scar off the edge. Your first arrow flies straight into his shoulder within the blink of an eye, shocking him but not resulting in death. 

“What the…” Grian yells, jumping back and wincing from the pain. 

“Was that a skeleton?” Mambo asks, hair flopping as he flails side to side, looking for the offender. 

“It’s broad daylight, Mumbo!” Grian fires back with annoyance. 

“Well, I don’t know! What am I supposed to think?!” Mumbo retorts, snapping back at Grian. 

In the time it takes for Mumbo and Grian to snip at one another, you’ve managed to shift from your crouched position and traverse through the woods to shoot at Mumbo from a new angle. In all the confusion, neither Grian nor Mumbo notice Scar step away from the cavern and back into the woods, shooting an arrow past Grian to confuse him. 

At this point, Mumbo and Grian have panicked, running in circles and dodging arrows. You look across the clearing and catch Scar’s gaze, smiling widely and gesturing with your arms to direct his arrows to the cavern opening where he was previously standing. Mumbo and Grian have backtracked to the cavern's edge without realizing it. Two well-shot arrows later spook them enough to trip over one another in their haste, tumbling down the hole. According to your communicator notifications, both die from the fall, which means you and Scar have gotten away scot-free. 

The moment the deaths populate in chat, you dart from your covered nest, sprinting toward the cavern and, more importantly, their dropped inventories. 

“Holy moly, that worked even more perfectly than I planned!” Scar exclaims, gabbing your hand as you descend the stone. “They were so lost it was incredible! Let’s scoop up all the good stuff!” 

Scar releases your hand as he crouches to pick up one of their discarded iron pickaxes and immediately tucks it into his inventory. 

“I’ll take it and drop it off at your base,” you say, bending down to compare the swords the guys have left behind. “They’ll assume you’ll have it all, so I’ll grab the good stuff and stash it in a chest, so it looks like yours.” 

“Keep some for yourself too! And a few things to make them think the rest got destroyed in the fall.”

“Good call!” You reach into your inventory and pull out a bucket of lava you hung onto just in case. Tipping it down the cavern, you watch with a smirk as it burns up a few of the garbage items and flows down one side. 

“Believability.” You say, turning to make your way to climb back up the stone walls. 

“Genius!”

Scar’s lankiness allows him to reach the top before you. He grabs your hand again once he’s safely out, helping to pull you from the hole with one arm, the other typing into his communicator. 

Grian and Mumbo are screaming in the chat, and Scar casually mentions it was indeed a skeleton but don’t worry, Hawkeye took care of the threat. He asks if they would like him to collect what items he can, smiling at his ingenuity. 

Grian mentions he and Mumbo are on their way back, and you wave goodbye to Scar as you duck back into the woods and make your escape. Climbing a few branches up from your original hiding place, you watch with amusement, forcing your hand in front of your mouth to contain your giggles as Mumbo and Grian return in a fury. Scar makes himself out to be the hero of the village, regaling them with the tale of mighty Hawkeye taking down a ferocious beast. As he distributes what little of their items he could salvage, you slide your communicator out and send Scar a private message. 

“Nice acting. I’ll leave everything in a chest under your starter tree, dig down one block, and you’ll find it x”

You wait for a moment, hidden in your tree-dwelling, as you watch Scar receive the message. He fishes his communicator from his pocket, smirking while Grian and Mumbo argue as they head to salvage their remaining items. Your cheeks burn as you see him smile at your message, glancing up to the trees to see if you’re still there. He types something before shoving it back into his pocket and turning to the cavern, yelling as Mumbo inquires if the lava had been there the whole time. Your communicator vibrates in your hand, and you open the message as fast as possible. 

“I’ll expect my Oscar by midnight; I’ll stop by to pick it up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, your back is sore, fingers lightly blistered, and you can feel the effects of a bit too much sun on your shoulders. The sun is fading fast around the starter village, and most of your fellow Hermits have begun packing up their supplies for the night, content to mill around the spawn area for a chat. Although you have so much more to finish, you decide to join them, tossing your extra items into your starter base's mini-chest monster that has begun to populate the area. You’ve chosen to build further into the woods than most, a quick walk to many of the Hermit’s starter bases but far enough to get peace and quiet when the building inevitably starts with the morning sun. 

Stepping inside your very humble starter abode, it seems fitting to finally discard the clothes you’ve toiled in all day in exchange for some clean ones. Tossing your soiled garments into a chest in the corner, you leave them to be dealt with tomorrow when you have the energy. Quickly you freshen up, wiping the residual sweat and dirt from your face and arms, and toss on a pair of comfortable pants and an old tank top to relax in. Although the sun is receding, it’s still a warm day, and the last thing you want right now is to continue sweating in the same outfit you’ve spent all day wearing while building. 

Content with the new feeling of cleanliness, you head out, following the loud laughter and trails of smoke that lead to where your fellow Hermits have set up for the evening. 

Welcoming cries ring out as you approach, waving excitedly to the rest of the group. 

“There you are! We were wondering if you were going to join us tonight. What’s happenin’, baby?” Ren asks, tossing another log onto the campfire as you find yourself claiming an empty log bench. 

“Not much! I wanted to take a few minutes to get organized before I headed over to mock all your bases.” You joke. 

“Wow. Woooooow. Here we are aiming for friendship, and you have to shame us. And to think I have all these Giga Pies I was going to offer you….” Cub trails off, doing his best to cover the delight in his voice with authenticity. 

“Cub, where’s your house?” You ask, knowing the answer already. 

“...okay, so I technically live in Ren’s basement, but-”

“I REST MY CASE!” You exclaim to a chorus of laughter. 

Cub rolls his eyes but laughs along with the group. “You’re so cruel.” He says, sighing. “But you’re not wrong.”

“Hand over the pies, pretty boy!” You order, reaching forward to take one from his outstretched hands. You must admit, Ren’s grandma’s secret recipe, or whatever story he’s telling, is bang on the money, and the pie is easily the most delicious thing you’ve tasted in ages.

Ren and Cub distribute pies as other Hermits come and go, exhausted from a day of building, planning, and mining. Stress and Iskall join, taking the empty spaces to your left as Ren and Cub occupy the seats across. Impulse, Tango, Gem, and Pearl arrive just as the sun dips to the skyline, casting an orange glow across the faces of your fellow Hermits. 

Discussion flows freely as you regale one another with tales from the day. The series of events expressed by the group that took on the Woodland Mansion sets everyone into a fit of giggles, Gem blushing and smacking Impulse repeatedly after he discusses her lack of spacial awareness. You can already tell this will be a running gag, and poor Gem will be constantly fearful of things behind her for the coming weeks. 

It isn’t long until the group expands once more as the bickering voices of Mumbo, Grian, and Scar begin to fill the air surrounding the camp. 

“...if you had just seen the skeleton and taken it out in the first place, we wouldn’t have had to mine for 3 hours, Grian.” Mambo huffs faintly, voice barely traveling through the trees. 

“Oh sure, Mumbo, it’s all my fault I didn’t see a daylight skeleton take a shot at me before I was SHOT IN THE SHOULDER! My mistake, how silly of me.” Grian fires back, voice rife with sarcasm. Their squabbling reaches a fever pitch as they approach the fire, jostling for the first warm Giga Pie. 

“Oh my word, are you two still arguing over that stupid skeleton? That was hours ago!” Pearl questions. 

“It was hours ago. Imagine the day I’ve had!” Scar says with a huff, lifting the back of his tunic to comfortably flop down next to you as Mumbo and Grian settle into the empty log to your right. 

“No one said you had to stick around, Scar,” Grian interjects, mouth half full of pie. 

“Somebody had to keep you two safe! I’m not sure what was more of a threat to you both; rogue skeletons or one another!”

Grian sticks his tongue out at Scar, blowing a raspberry at him before turning to start a conversation with Ren. 

“I swear those two are turning me grey. Look, look, can you see any? Am I prematurely aging? It’s such a struggle taking care of toddlers all day.” Scar gives you the biggest puppy dog eyes possible as you giggle, looking up at him to spot a stray grey hair. 

Scar’s eyes catch yours as his face visibly softens. Your eyes travel across his face, taking in the specks of gold the glow of the campfire highlights in his green eyes. His hair, usually perfectly styled and cared for, has developed a wave during his day out, cascading down his shoulders and behind his ears. You admit you can’t see a grey hair among the bunch, but you were never really looking, if you're honest. Though lightly chapped from a hot spring day in the sun, his lips remain as enticing as ever, and your eyes feel forced to follow the scar that begins at his bottom lip and curves down, leading to the gloriously tempting expanse of his neck. You thank whatever deity brought about dusk as the dim light conceals the increasing beat of your heart and blushing face as your mind presents you with the visual of what Scar would look like under you, neck and throat arching to give you all the space you need to nip, bite and kiss every inch. 

“Well?”

“Hmm?” You’re aware you’ve made a noise, not entirely aware of what was asked. 

“Do you see anything? Any grey hair I should be worried about?” Scar asks, eyes shifting from earnestness to something you can’t pinpoint, but it’s more mischievous. 

“No.” You quickly respond. “Nothing grey at all. You look…fine. Good. Still…young?” You offer, unable to find a way to talk yourself out of the awkwardness. 

Scar laughs, tossing his head back to tempt you yet again. 

“I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever described me as young, but I’ll take it!” He exclaims. 

You share a warm smile, completely unaware that the Hermits around you are once again sharing that look, which only exists within the context of you and Scar. 

As conversation passes the time, the temperature slowly drops, and you find yourself wishing you had thought ahead to bring a sweater along. Scar notices your light shiver, asking if you’re feeling cold. Scar has nothing to offer you, his elven garb not structured to be shared, but before he can offer to grab you something or warm your arms with his hands, a hoodie is tossed directly into his face. 

“Oh geez. Sorry man didn’t mean to hit you with that. But if you’re cold over there, feel free to use it; I’m running a bit hot myself!” 

Thanking Ren for his kindness, you nab the hoodie from Scar’s lap and tug it over your head. Instantly you feel better, sighing as you shiver in the fabric. Scar tenses next to you, and you allow yourself one minute to daydream that he’s jealous. You seriously doubt the possibility, but for a moment, the thought of Scar being envious that you’re not wearing his sweater warms you up in a way the sweater will never be able to. While you pontificate over Scar’s imagined jealousy, Grian has again gotten up to cause some mischief. While discussing his nether adventures to the others, including a tale about a Wither fight, he retrieves some soul sand from his inventory, setting it up as though he is moments from summoning the deadly creature. 

“Oi, Grian! Not all of us have a death wish, love. Keep your withering to yourself, mate!” Stress cackles, grabbing at Iskall’s shoulders to use him as a human shield. 

“Don’t worry, everyone; I promise I won’t summon a Wither. It’s too early in the season.”

Several sighs of relief pass over the camp, lasting five seconds until Grian speaks again. 

“This is much, much worse.”

Without a second to react, Grian places three heads on top of the formation, and several Hermits, you included, duck down in fear of what hellish idea Grian has unleashed. Scar tucks you under his arm in anticipation, turning to be ready to position himself in front of you if need be. Luckily nothing happens; no fire, no dreaded fear. Looking up, you indeed see three heads on top of the soul sand—three Scar heads, to be exact. 

“TA-DA!” Grian yells, cackling. “The fearsome Scarther!” 

“Hey now!” Scar yells, laughing as he does so. “Is that why you two kept killing me?!”

“Not at all,” Mumbo adds through his own belts of laughter, “but I must say this is a pleasant turn of events.”

“What’s the Scarther’s attack?” Cub asks, leaning back onto the grass behind him. “Will we wake up to a house full of cats in the morning?”

“The dream!” Pearl exclaims with a wistful sigh. 

“No, my friends, it’s far worst than that. When the Scarther reaches its full potential, it will unleash the deadliest and single most annoying attack in history.” Grian pauses for a moment, reveling in the dramatic quiet. “It shows up while you’re asleep, takes all your items, and creates a chest monster, so unruly, so unbearable to conquer; you eventually have to abandon your base and move to escape.”

“Noooooo!” Ren yells.

“Anything but that!” Tango wails, grabbing onto Impulse for support. 

“How dastardly!” Gem adds, hiding her face behind her hand to control the giggles.

“Aw, c’mon guys, it’s not THAT bad! I’ve managed it for years!” 

The group boo’s at Scar before laughter takes complete control. You elbow him in the side as the group pulls themselves back together. It’s ridiculous to imagine Scar, the kindest, most thoughtful person you know, having any commonality with a Wither. 

“Better stay ahead of your chest monsters this season, pretty boy. Otherwise, everyone here will be on the lookout for BadTimesWithScar to make an appearance.”

Scar looks down at you, catching your gaze and holding it. It’s truthfully annoying how much power he wields over you with just a glance, just a quick minute of eye contact. You’re sure he could convince you to do anything, and you wouldn’t bother resisting if he’s looking at you like this. His smirk reaches his eyes, one side of his mouth curling dramatically. You’d think he was a cartoon villain if he wasn’t so damn attractive. 

“Well, we couldn’t have that, could we?” Scar asks rhetorically. You’re not sure if he has purposefully dropped his voice a few octaves or if it’s a side effect of the smokiness surrounding you, but something in the air feels different. Somehow, something feels dangerous. 

Scar brakes his gaze as he notices the others begin to collect their belongings, heading out for the night. You do the same and begin to remove Ren’s sweater before he tells you to keep it for the walk home. He’ll be around anytime you want to exchange the sweater for some Giga Pies. As people peel off into groups to head to their homes, Scar waves for Grian and Mumbo to go ahead. They send him a look, knowing exactly what he’s waiting around for, and he sends one back, communicating silently. 

Turning to head down the path that leads to your humble starter base, you find Scar standing, waiting to escort you home. 

“Scar! You don’t have to wait for me! I can make it back just fine.” You plead, not wanting to feel like a burden to him. 

“Oh, I know you’re more than capable, but any good elf worth their cookies knows there’s safety in numbers!” 

The joyful, honest look on Scar’s face is more than you can bear. You scoff but ultimately sidle up to Scar, slipping your arm through his outstretched one and allowing him to lead you up the path to your home. 

As you and Scar turn down the dirt path, the moon crests over the tallest mountain ridge at spawn. The illumination from the moon rains down upon the area, casting everything in a gorgeous other-worldly glow. Light tendrils of smoke begin to rise as the moonlight touches upon the Scarwither, a low sizzle permeating the air. It’s impossible to tell if it’s the soul sand or the extinguished fire producing the noise, but the Scarwither evaporates into a mist within minutes. As if it was sentient, the mist begins floating through the air as if looking for something. A host. 

#goodtimeswithscar x reader #badtimeswithscar x reader #hermitcraft x reader #wafflewrites #GoodTimesWithScar x Original Female Character

[scattered-stardust]

thank you @just-slightly-chayotic for tagging me<3

my current WIPs, in the order i last looked at them and for which i have actually written something: (most of these don't have titles yet so i'll try to keep is coherent)

another kimchay because jeff is pretty, the one with the lace blindfold i started earlier today

arisu x chishiya x usagi: plot? who needs plot just vibes. It's about healing and living, that's all i know

Unhinged Kimchay: (im not sure how to explain this one honestly) everyone is part fae, fae genes are strongest in younger children (why? magic) and if you snap (aka experience a very traumatic event) the fae side becomes stronger than the human side and they form an unhealthy attachment to the first person who they trust and gives them an order. other than that person they don't care about anyone else, except their soulmate (kimchay are soulmates).

MacauKimChay: Macau proposes to Kim when they're children (3&5), they stay friends for most of their lives and when they're teenagers Macau kisses Kim. Macau ignores Kim for a while. Kim writes an album. Vegas drops out of nowhere to be like "Talk to my brother. he's miserable. I will kill you if you hurt him." Kinnporshe plot happens as in canon, except Kim doesn't spy on chay beyond that first lesson. Still keeps tutoring him tho. Macau and Chay are friends and all three of them fall for each other. At some point they kill Korn. Vegas and Kim are very very reluctant friends. It's a good time.

Learning how to reclaim being an omega now that your father has died a most unfortunate death (with some help): Kim is an omega, Korn doesn't like that but also sees the potential in having an omega son to do some of his dirty work. So kim is kept close and never really meets any other omega's or gets out of the compound. After Korn dies, he makes a list of things he wants to do, to start figuring out who he. I make pearls a very emotional subject, Tay asks: "is anyone going to adopt him?" and doesn't wait for an answer.

reincarnated kimchay: kimchay are reincarnated lovers, kim regains his memories of their past life over the course of the show, plot happens as in kinnporsche. When Chya gets kidnapped he regains the last of his memories. in their past life his actions indirectly led to Chay's death which he blames himself for so he breaks up wiht him. After kinnporsche plot happens, Chay starts regaining his memories of their past life.

no idea who all has done this so, if you want to do it, go for it!!

#stardust talks #kimchay #alice in borderland #macaukimchay #this is like in the past month i think. i need to update my wip list at some point because it is bad so bad

[comfysofti]

Thanks Krinkels for not giving any lore to employers nor in games nor in series, so i can go batshit with their lore in my au 🫶

Aka, hi, good morning, im here again to yap about my madness combat au, specifically about employers!!!

Today talking mostly about their anatomy(not much, because im lazy) and will make post regarding their world and history later

(part 1 out of gods know how many, of me talking about employers in my au)

1. Lifespan

Employers can live up to 1000 years. It divided into different "adulthoods". The first adulthood starts, when employers reach age 18-20, second starts in 100-105, third around age 300-307, fourth 509-515, fifth 700-706, sixth and last around age 900-902. Nothing much changes during them, outside of employers growing in terms of their abilities, knowledge ect. Body usually only starts aging and "dying" during fifth adulthood

2. Memory

Funny note about their memory, that until employers reach age of 14-15(depending on employer) their memories are stored in their hair, instead of their heads! So all children usually have very long hair, and are not allowed to cut it no matter what, because they'll loose memories, and will never recover them. Important to note, that if employer forced to cut their hair at a young age, constantly erasing their memories, this will lead to phantom hair to appear, and yes it looks like you think it looks. "Ghostly" looking part of their hair, that cannot be touched and only serves as a reminder of how many memories employer have lost(Auditor in my au, is a good example of employer with phantom hair), also employers who have it, usually have bad memory and problems with learning new things. And yes, after age of 14-15 employers are allowed to cut their hair however they want, because it doesn't hold their memories anymore, because their brain/head is now developed enough to finally store all this memories and knowledge. So yea, at a young age, taking care of their hair, is really important to employers!

3. Hearts

Employers don't have hearts like we do. Instead they have employer cores. Employer cores are crystals that are grown and carved by gods to help employers contain and control their powers, also helping to keep their bodies stable(and because of the fact that in employers body, cores are kept in their chest where heart would be, sometimes they also called employer hearts). Employers are being made from powers they get at birth, and their bodies is the energy of those powers. Without cores, their bodies aren't stable, because there's nothing that keeps their powers in check, and keeps them stable. So, cores are made just for that. Employer cores, although made of crystals, are very flexible and can change their appearance to absolutely anything their owner wants. They can even be turned into weapons!(Also, side note: in earlier eras of employers history, noble people and anyone with high status would wear their cores as accessories, literally turning them into such. This was counted as the person showing their higher status, hence them not hiding their heart and literally showing it off, as some jewelry). Also, when employer looses some of their powers(yes, that's more than possible) they have ways of restoring them, and those ways are unique to all employers. Some employers can restore their powers for example, by eating specific food, or something having to do something as bad as hurt someone. But mind you, the ways their powers are restored doesn't say anything about the person!!! Also, if you're curious, yes, grunts can use employer cores and use the powers they hold, although with time it'll kill them(im too lazy to elaborate about this rn, so let me know if i should even bother talking about this more)

4. Core connections

Yes, cores can be connected between eachother, in few different ways. Thus far, there's only four known core connections:

Mixed - as the name suggests tho cores mix into one, along with their owners. Two beings and their hearts become one person basically speaking. This connection cannot be undone since there's nothing remaining of tho individual employers, only a mix of them!!!

"Cursed" - employers sometimes can "curse" their cores, so after their death, no one would be able to use their cores and the powers it hold. That's where the name comes from. If employer tries to connect their core to "cursed" core, not only will they die, but powers from their core will be drained into cursed one, reviving cursed owners body as well

Threading - employer core that got "shattered" through "threads" gets connected to another core. Those threads allow employer to use the powers of the shattered core(as long as it's not cursed ofc), without having to mix the cores and all that stuff. This is one of those connections that can be ended at any point, through simply "cutting the threads"

Piercing - one core pierces another core. This connection is extremely rare and random occuring, for so far unknown reasons. In this connection, the cores and employers do not mix, but still are connected to one another. Powers of the core that pierces another will get reduced to fit the power level of the core that's being pierced. This connection can only be safely broken, if there's another employer, who's willing to have their core pierced by core that's well, piercing to the core of another employer. Otherwise, if cores with this connection get "disconnected" from one another for more than a few minutes both employers will die. Origins of this core connection are unknown, so it's hard to tell why it even works like that or why is it even exists

5. Employer markings

This term both refers to marking that employers can be born with and markings that appear on grunts body/clothes and what not, if they use the core for too long. A bit about each:

Employer markings on employers themselves - generally just markings of the same colour as their aura. Can appear on any part of their body, can be small or big. They're randomly occurring, so if both parents have markings there's no guarantee their child will have them as well. In early ages of employers world it was believed that those markings depending on their shape and placement can tell how employers life will go, up to their death, although it wasn't actually true

Employer markings on grunts - a clear sign that grunt is close to dying. Markings on them can appear in any shape and form. Can appear on their clothes, or appear outside their body, for example in shape of wings, having the colour of core that grunt is using. Those marks don't hurt them, and grunts don't even feel them appearing, but again, those marks are a bright sign that they'll die soon from using the core for so long

6. Core descendants

All cores are unique, each and every one, so if employer has core exactly the same(or suspiciously way too similar) to core of already deceased employer(bonus point if they have the exact same powers) they're considered core descentand of this employer. This doesn't mean that the two employers are connected, this only means their hearts and mind are so similar that they have either exactly identical or very similar shape of their hearts and abilities

Well, I don't have anything else to add, so that's all, unless someone has questions :33

Thanks for reading my yapping <33

#madness combat #Vee's madcom au rambling #i love talking about employers in my au SO MUCHHH #idk what else to add or say so yea #i probably need to stop talking about my au so much #but i just love it too much to shut up so fight me #a1110 archived project au

[alister312]

What Do We Canonically Know About Christophe aka “The Mole”?

“What do you think this is, kid? [...] Huh? This is real life with consequences you take to the grave!”

For a character with only around 5 minutes of screen time in the 1999 film South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut, Christophe (aka The Mole or Ze Mole) left quite the impact with the SP fandom. Much of this is due to the fact that, despite how little we see of him, he has such a complex and interesting personality. Is it really possible to obtain such depth of character in so little time? Today, I’d like to answer that question by exploring everything we canonically know about Christophe, as well as some personal speculation based on the canon.

To start, I’ll state that what I am taking to be canon is everything that happened in the movie, along with South Park Studios wiki page about him (as close to an official wiki as I can get).

The first time we hear about Christophe, he isn’t even present.

After Stan and the others volunteer to execute Gregory’s rescue mission for Terrance and Phillip (T&P), Gregory insists that they need help from someone who has “done this sort of thing before”. He hands them a card that has the address of someone who Gregory refers to as “The Mole” and claims he is “an expert in covert operations” and “a mercenary for hire”. Though Gregory calls him a mercenary, no money seems to actually exchange hands when the boys recruit him, so it’s possible that Gregory uses the term “mercenary” loosely. However, we know at the very least that Christophe is experienced when it comes to mercenary-esque work.

Additionally, we know that Gregory and Christophe know one another. According to Gregory’s official wiki, in one of the movie script drafts, Christophe asks Gregory if they are going to “free more Canadian prisoners”, implying that the two of them have been doing revolutionary work together already. While this concept doesn’t make it into the actual movie, I feel the fact that the official wiki page for Gregory references it means their implied partnership is something not to be overlooked.

Similarly to Gregory, Christophe is very familiar with the layout of the army base where T&P are being held and the exact window of opportunity during the USO show when they can be freed. He also knew a spot to dig into the base where they won’t be immediately spotted, where to go to lay low once they’re inside, where the electrical box that shuts off the alarms are, and that there are alarms and that he will be attacked by guard dogs if they sound. Christophe even brought along wire cutters to deal with the barbed wire when sneaking into the base. This level of detailed knowledge and preparation is likely something he could only know from having scouted for the rescue mission ahead of time. Since Gregory conceptualized and presented the rescue mission during the La Resistance meeting, as well as initially volunteered to go, it’s possible that both he and Christophe planned it ahead of time.

While on the subject of Christophe and his mercenary/revolutionary work, I would be remiss to not focus a bit on his incredible digging prowess. In addition to literally being named “The Mole” (an animal known for digging), Christophe utilizes tunneling twice during the mission. The first time is to break into the army encampment and the second time is to sneak onto the stage to rescue T&P. Supposedly, he’s able to do this in the span of less than 20 minutes, judging by the time on his watch at the start of the rescue mission (9:40) and the fact that Stan doesn’t seem late to the rendezvous later in the movie, which was set to happen at 10:00. This implies that Christophe possesses good, inhumanely fast digging skills, especially since he claims that the USO stage has bedrock and he is able to get through it.

Going back to earlier, before we actually see Christophe, we learn more about him. First, it can be assumed that he lives in the town of South Park (house number 810), as Stan and the others can easily walk to his house. I know they walked because they’re meant to be grounded at the moment, so they can’t ask for a ride anywhere. Second, Christophe’s mother answers the door, which means we know that Christophe has (at least) a mother. Speaking of his mother, the two of them have an intriguing relationship that is never fully stated, but a lot can be inferred from what is implied.

For starters, it’s not until she calls him to the door that we learn his name is “Christophe”, as before (and the rest of the movie) he was only ever referred to by his code name “The Mole/Ze Mole/Mole”. However, when the others use that name, Christophe’s mother knows who they’re talking about. This means she’s aware of what he does, but it’s possible she doesn’t quite know how real it is considering she tells the boys at the door that “Ze Mole[…] can’t come out and play”. Breaking into a US army camp to free political prisoners seems a bit intense for the word “play” to me. Also, the reason I use “Ze Mole” here is because she has a thick French accent. This begs the question of whether Christophe got his accent from growing up in France or simply developed an accent from socializing mostly with his mother. Sadly, I don’t have an answer.

Christophe’s mothers says the reason Christophe can’t “play” is because he’s grounded for saying “very naughty things about God”. This specification that she is upset with him because he said naughty things about God rather than naughty things generally implies that she is 1) Christian and 2) cares a lot about respect towards God. This idea is further supported as she later gets upset (off screen) when she overhears Christophe starting to talk about God as an oppressive force later on. Her fixation on blasphemy (and Christophe’s constant usage of it) hints at the idea that she is perhaps raising Christophe in a very religious environment. Considering the fact that his name relates to being a devout Christian, this idea is very likely.

Despite how Christophe rebels by vocalizing his hate towards God, he appears obedient to his mother at least on a surface level. He comes to the door when she decides to let Stan and the others talk to him as soon as she calls him. He also immediately stops talking when she yells at him for badmouthing God again, snuffing out his cigarette and going back inside right away. (“What?! Christophe, get in here!” / “Coming, mother!”). He even initially turns down the opportunity to rescue T&P just because he’s grounded. Still, Christophe does actively disobey her by sneaking out later and continuing to blaspheme when not in her presence. It’s possible that he’s scared of her, which is why he is quick to heed her but refuses to actually change his ways.

When we first see Christophe, he doesn’t appear very reactive to the strangers on his doorstep until Stan starts talking about their rescue plans. He immediately grabs Stan and shushes him, demanding “Who are you? Who sent you?” Even though he’s just a kid, Christophe seems extremely paranoid, which means his mercenary work might be legitimately dangerous. There’s a chance that he’s a wanted criminal. However, he lets go of Stan once Kyle mentions “that Gregory kid” sent them, implying that Christophe trusts Gregory and his judgement despite his paranoia.

The reading of Christophe’s next line is a bit difficult to parse. Depending on the emphasis, he is either shocked that Stan, Kyle, and Cartman are the ones going on the rescue mission or he’s shocked that the plan in general is to rescue T&P during the USO show. If it’s the former, then he is rather quick to judge. Sure, Stan started explaining a covert plan with sensitive information at a normal speaking volume, but Christophe barely knows him or the others. How could he know if they’re incompetent or not? However, if it’s the latter, then it implies that a rescue mission of this intensity is too much, even for Christophe. This would shed some light on what level of mercenary work he’s taken on in the past.

Either way, Christophe initially refuses only because he’s grounded. If he really is an expert mercenary (and the narrative paints him as such), then it’s curious that something as simple as that is what stops him from helping in revolutionary work. He even references grounding as a legitimate threat twice more in the film. This could connect back to the idea that Christophe fears his mother, to the point where he’s less scared about the difficulty of the mission and more worried about upsetting his mother. He only relents once he hears the other boys are meant to be grounded too, perhaps admiring their bravery for rebelling against their mothers and wanting to join in solidarity. When asked, Christophe reveals that the reason he was grounded was “because God hates [him]... He has made [his] life miserable so [Christophe] calls Him a cocksucking asshole”.

With that said, let’s talk about Christophe’s repeated displays of misotheism, or hatred of God. We already touched on his mother’s attitude towards God and her potential relationship with Christophe, which could contribute to why he feels the way he does. Beyond based speculation, though, Christophe voices his hate towards God a lot. Aside from his grounding, he goes out of his way to bad mouth God, calling Him “the biggest bitch of them all” and equating him to the US military, who he seems to hate (referring to them as “military bitches”), just because Kyle says “Oh my god” in response to something.

Then, of course, Christophe uses some of his dying breath to bemoan God and point out the hypocrisy of the idea that He is benevolent and merciful (“Where is your God when you need him, huh? Where is your beautiful, merciful faggot now?”). The fact that he casts doubt on the idea of God being infallible and suggests that He is, in fact, selective in who He helps, really continues to potentially paint Christophe’s mother in a bad light. Or, at least, whatever experience Christophe has potentially had with other religious (specifically Christian) people.

The oddest thing, in my opinion, is that Christophe still believes he is headed to Heaven when he dies. In fact, he has an almost resigned excitement about it, challenging God and threatening Him (“Here I come, you fucking rat!”) right before his death. Despite Christophe’s hatred of God, he also clearly still believes in Him and sees himself as worthy of Heaven. His feelings towards religion may seem very clear at a cursory glance, but there’s a lot of complicated emotions involved. This may connect back to his mother, or perhaps even to Gregory, who does seem to believe in God as a force of good.

Christophe has personality traits outside of blasphemy though– the most prominent being his sense of humor! The watch he brings on the mission is labeled “Third Act: The Ticking Clock”. This is a reference to the fact that many movies will introduce a ticking clock (or just a deadline of any kind) in their third act in order to draw the audience back in. Outside of the obvious meta joke for the audience, I want to believe that Christophe finds humor in giving himself a “ticking clock” to make his missions more exciting. Considering how obsessive he is about the timing of everything (becoming upset when the boys don’t have watches to synchronize with him), I don’t think he’d get a watch with that label for no reason.

Another humorous thing he does is using a View-Master toy as binoculars in order to observe T&P. When Kyle asks if Christophe can see T&P, he claims that he can, yet the audience is shown that what he’s actually seeing is a bunch of safari animals. He seems to really like these types of animals, especially considering his distress signal is the sound of a dying giraffe. Going back, the fact that he uses this toy as if it’s a real pair of binoculars, lies about his observations while also being incredible accurate, and then gets the others to follow him by saying “Come on beetches” gives the impression that Christophe enjoys being funny, even if he is the only one getting the joke.

The other joke he makes in the movie also falls flat, though Christophe doesn’t seem to mind. While checking that the others brought everything he asked them to bring for the mission, he asks if they brought the “buttfor”. When Kyle responds with “What’s a buttfor?” Christophe replies “For pooping, silly” and takes a long drag of his cigarette. Despite the sensitive, timed nature of the mission, he takes the opportunity to crack a joke, a toilet humor based one at that. He has a very dry wit about him. Even if his expression remains deadpan as he tells it, the fact that he makes the joke throws doubt on the idea that his personality is one of only angst and brooding.

While he may be enough of a kid to use a toy like legit spy gear or crack toilet jokes, Christophe comes across as much more grounded and intense than the other boys. In addition to all his darker thoughts on God, he treats the mission with a grave seriousness. He chastises Stan for being focused on Wendy and finding the clitoris instead of what they’re doing (which also implies that Christophe knows what the clitoris is while the other boys don’t). He yells at Stan (and the others by proxy) again after learning they don’t have watches, reminding them all that “this is real life with consequences you take to ze grave”. He appears to take great offense to Cartman’s lackadaisical attitude about shutting off the alarms too, which makes sense considering how Cartman forgetting to do so results in Christophe’s death.

Death and injury are things Christophe seems quite familiar with. When telling Cartman he has to shut off the alarms or Christophe will be attacked by guard dogs, he is very insistent about his hatred of them (“You must shut off ze alarms! I fucking hate guard dogs!”). This gives the impression that he has experience dealing with guard dogs, specifically being attacked by them. Considering his implied history of mercenary work, this isn’t surprising. This is not the only known brush with death Christophe has had though. He reveals, rather unnecessarily, to Stan and Kyle that his mother attempted (and failed) to abort him (“Was my mother careful when she stabbed me in ze heart with a clothes hanger while I was still in ze womb?”). That particular interaction also shows that Christophe somewhat lacks emotional boundaries, or at least a basic understanding of social situations and dynamics.

This familiarity with death could explain why Christophe takes his own death in stride. Aside from asking Kyle to hold him, which seems more out of necessity since he can no longer stand, Christophe tries to get the others to abandon him so they won’t also get hurt. He doesn’t even get angry when Cartman admits that it was his fault that the alarms went off, but it’s possible he just doesn’t have the energy to while dying. Christophe’s song, a short reprise to Gregory’s song La Resistance, is about how “although [he] dies, [their] freedom will be won”. Christophe, like Gregory, seemingly idolizes the concept of being a martyr and dying for a cause, specifically fighting for freedom. The notion comforts him, and he’s able to face his death nobly.

It should be said, however, that Christophe is not actually dead! At the end of the movie, Kenny wishes for everything to go back to how it was before, reviving everyone who died. Even if we don’t see Christophe again in the movie, leaving his fate uncertain, he does appear once in the actual show of South Park. In the episode Two Guys Naked in a Hot Tub (s3e08), Stan flips through many TV channels. For the briefest moment, Christophe is on the TV, seemingly a guest on a talk show of some kind. It’s unclear why he might be on one, but given the fact that the episode aired after the movie was released, this proves that Christophe is alive.

Now that we know all there is to canonically about Christophe, what can we say about him? First, he and Gregory not only know one another, it’s implied that they’ve worked together on past mercenary/revolutionary work. Christophe himself is an expert and experienced mercenary in all aspects (scouting, planning, and doing). He defaults to tunneling as his main method of operation, likely because he digs incredibly fast and efficiently. This tunneling is also probably why everyone calls him “The Mole”. Christophe and his mother have an interesting and seemingly strained relationship, stemming perhaps from his fear of her and/or her anger towards his disdain for God. This disdain for God permeates so much of Christophe’s character and he takes any opportunity to voice it.

In addition, he is hinted at having various near death experiences in the past, which results in him having a stern personality, becoming frustrated when others aren’t taking things as seriously as him. When he does die, however, he doesn’t fight it and takes comfort in being a martyr for a good cause. Despite this emotional baggage, he has a prevalent and dry sense of humor, as well as an apparent interest in animals. Lastly, Christophe is not actually dead and was actually resurrected via Kenny’s wish at the end of the movie.

#south park #christophe delorne #the mole #ze mole #south park meta #sp christophe #sp ze mole #sp the mole #MEN I'M INSANE ENOUGH ABOUT TO WRITE ~3k WORTH OF ANALYSIS ON FOR 5 MIN OF SCREEN TIME #talk to me about him whenever wherever please please he is my boy and i love him infinitely. need more christophe fans out there. #and if youre wondering where i got the last name delorne from. well. that's another pet project of mine you may ask about

[logan-sanders-enthusiast]

electing strange perfections (in any stranger i choose) - Chapter 1/?

next | masterlist | AO3

Word count: 5117

Summary:

The fae world and the human world had always been mostly separate. Fae crossed between the two realms while humans remained oblivious to their very existence, and that was how it had been for centuries. But when the lines start to bleed, and humans start catching on, who's going to step in and put an end to the conflict that follows? Human or fae, fate does tend to fall into strange hands (aka, logince fae au)

((AN: this is like 60% based on an rp i did a while back on tumblr. I definitely strayed from the original storyline a lot but the idea and the characters are like… pretty similar i think. this is also incredibly self indulgent bc im a sucker for logince. enjoy :] ))

~ * ~

Humans liked to consider themselves to be intelligent. Masters of the world they lived in. They dug up coal to power their great machines, and cut down trees to put up the scaffolding for towering buildings. They sacrificed their share of the Earth for the wonders they saw fit to create, and they turned to each other with unsatisfied smiles, as if to say: ‘Look at that. Look at the greatness we have achieved’.

They never quite finished with their powerful innovations, there was always something more. Some turned to science, and quickly became bored, many claiming that we had already mastered the Earth, there was nothing more to learn. Yes, humans quickly convinced themselves that they understood most everything, and whatever they didn’t understand, well, they at least could pinpoint its existence, could say with confidence that it was infact real. Although this mindset has led to great discoveries, it is the hinderance of the most vital secrets that the Earth holds close to her chest.

Then again, perhaps it’s not always the important people making the important discoveries. After all, sometimes fate does tend to fall into strange hands.

~ * ~

Logan awoke just like he did every other morning, the smell of coffee drifting up the stairs, the sound of his mothers poorly singing along to some ABBA song, the summery morning air drifting in from his window that he always forgot to close, his homework still strewn across his desk from his late night study session. All was normal because that day was a normal day.

He got out of bed as usual, ten minutes before his alarm was supposed to go off, as he always tended to wake up earlier than he needed to. He blamed it on his circadian rhythm, and would usually bore his mothers to death with some scientific spiel whenever the topic came up, but if asked if he would set his alarm back ten minutes to compensate for it, he refused for whatever reason.

He put on his school clothes that he had laid out the night before, black jeans, a blue button up and a black tie, similar to what he always wore, formal and neat. He heard that type of clothing would get kids bullied in some schools, but he kept his head down, was quiet and polite, and his peers were always kind to him, even if he never found himself with many friends.

He brushed his hair, cleaned his teeth, made himself seem presentable, turned off his alarm once it went off, picked up his already packed schoolbag and slung it over his shoulder, before he went downstairs, everything going the way it always did. Today would be a normal day, why wouldn’t it be?

Logan’s feet had barely left the bottom step when one of his mothers swept into the hallway from around the corner. April was her name, named after the month she was born in. She often joked about her parents lack of creativity, and her surprise that her younger brother wasn’t named January. She was a shorter woman, with deep golden tan skin and kind eyes shining from behind a pair of round framed glasses. Her hair was long, dark, and curly, and her face was adorned with deep smile lines to compliment her dimples. Logan knew his mom had always been a beautiful woman, though he didn’t need to say it, his other mother, Natalie (named after nothing in particular, her parents simply adored the name), did her best to remind her wife every morning.

April walked to up to him with a skip in her step, going on her tip toes to run a hand through his hair “Oh Logan, look at you, always so professional looking. It’s high school, not a business conference you know?” she smiled fondly as she stepped back to admire her son.

“Mama, please, I have a reputation to uphold,” Logan replied, flattening down his hair. It was insatiably curly, and he always did his best to keep in neat. Just another trait he shared with his mama. People had always pointed out how similar he and April looked, ever since he was a child. April always tried to convince him that he had Natalie’s eyes, but he knew now that he was older that made no sense. Natalie, with her pale skin and pin straight brown hair, played about as much of a part in his genetic makeup as the anonymous man from the sperm bank played in his upbringing.

Logan’s almond skin, his poor eyesight, his curly, dark hair, all were traits he shared with his mama. He figured that the anonymous donor must have been tall though, as he was almost a head taller than both of his mothers, with a bit more room for maybe one more growth spurt.

“Oh please, all of your teachers already adore you” April hummed and tugged on Logan’s tie gently “At least lose the tie, it’s going to be hot today. Come on, breakfast is ready, we might even let you have two cups of coffee this morning if you promise to not stay up so late studying tonight” she said with a grin, walking out into the kitchen.

Logan followed behind her, the sounds of a familiar song filling his ears as he stepped into the kitchen alongside his mother.

‘-my destiny in quite a similar way. The history book on the shelf, is always repeating itself…’

“Waterloo? You couldn’t have picked a better song?” Logan teased lightly, immediately going to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Natalie turned her head around from where she was sitting at the kitchen bench “Excuse you young man, Waterloo is and always has been a hit” she argued back with a light-hearted tone, her voice still a bit rough from sleep..

“No, it was a hit in 1974. The Winner Takes it All is objectively a much better song, if we’re talking ABBA” Logan pointed out. Their musical debates were common in the mornings. It was all routine, his mothers put on a song, Logan came downstairs and critiqued it over coffee, rinse and repeat.

“Sorry honey but I have to agree with Nat on this one” April chimed in, sitting next to her wife “I mean, you can’t win Eurovision with a mediocre song. Besides, The Winner Takes it All doesn’t fit the morning vibe”

Natalie nodded to what her wife said, a tiny strand of her hair falling out of the tight bun it was held in “Very true. And really if we’re going to talk better ABBA songs, I’d consider Hole in Your Soul over any other song any day”

April put a hand over her heart in a dramatic fashion “Whoa hold on a second, you’re taking Hole in Your Soul over The Visitors? Now that’s crazy...”

‘-couldn't escape if I wanted to, Waterloo, knowing my fate is to be with you…’

Logan smiled a little to himself as his mothers continued to playfully bicker over ABBA. He took a sip of his coffee, drinking slowly so he didn’t burn his tongue.

His mothers had known each other for years, but for all Logan knew they could have known each other forever. He had never met two people who were closer than they were. They met in their sophomore year of high school, and Natalie proposed when they were both twenty-two, back in 1999. Of course, they couldn’t actually get married until about sixteen years later, for obvious reasons. Logan was ten at the time, he still remembered the wedding, and how much his mothers had smiled all throughout the ceremony. He was sure if he dug around in his closet a bit he could find the little black suit and tie he had worn, all dusty and stiff with seven years of no wear.

Logan eventually finished his coffee and put it down on the bench, filling his cup up again, slowly and carefully so as to not spill a single drop. Natalie looked over at Logan, not mentioning the second cup as it was merely routine for all of them by now “What’s on the agenda today Lo?”

Logan hummed, taking a sip of his coffee before speaking “I have a science project to wrap up, and then I might stay late to finish up my English essay in the common area”

“Why don’t you just come home and finish it?” April asked, tilting her head to the side.

“If I come straight home you’ll spend all the time I spend on work trying to pull me away from it, and I can’t risk that sort of distraction,” Logan answered.

April scoffed “Oh please, it’s probably not due for another month, you’re far too organised”

Natalie nodded in agreement “Yeah, you certainly didn’t inherit either of your mothers’ tendencies for procrastination”

“Well inherited procrastination or not, I’ll stay late today. What time should I be home by?” Logan asked, grabbing an apple out of the fruit bowl next to him on the counter, intending on taking it for breakfast even though he knew the chances of being able to leave the house without first eating a proper meal were slim.

“Hmm how about you be home by… now. And ditch school. And we can do something fun as a family and have a together day” April suggested, tilting her head to the side with a crooked smile.

“As tempting as that sounds-“ Logan began in a way that sounded like he wasn’t tempted in the slightest “I have a perfect attendance to uphold, and besides, I promised Virgil that I’d meet up with him to help proof read a paper for him”

Natalie sighed heavily, her shoulders slouching in an melodramatic disappointment “Oh dearest Logan, always working, never enough time for his boring old mothers”

Logan rolled his eyes in amusement, tucking the apple away in his bag to save for his walk to school “Look, tomorrow’s Saturday, we’re all free all day so we can have a together day then; we’ll do whatever you want. How does that sound?”

“I thought you had to tutor on Saturdays?” April pointed out.

“The student cancelled, they came down with the flu, or they were out of town, I can’t really remember. Either way, I don’t have to tutor them tomorrow so I’m free” Logan explained.

Both April and Natalie smiled “Well that’s wonderful! Yes, tomorrow it is, and you better not cancel otherwise you will never live it down” April warned.

“Yes mama, I know” Logan said with a fond smile, about to turn to head out the door when Natalie picked up a brown paper bag off of the counter and tossed it to him.

“Breakfast” She said simply “Eat it or I’ll come down to the school and tell them you have a doctors appointment and-“ she gasped dramatically for effect” “-force you to skip school!”

“Yes ma” Logan said, his tone exasperated but downplayed by his smile. “Love you Lo, have a good day” “You too ma” “And me?” “Yes mama, and you” “Bye Lo, have fun at school, do not work too hard today” “Goodbye”

And with that, Logan was out the door. The walk to school wasn’t a long one, and though Logan was perfectly capable of just driving to school, he enjoyed going by foot. It was good exercise and he lived on the brink between suburb and nature, so it was nice to hear the birds and see the green of his surroundings in the mornings, it helped to wake him up.

His actual school was a lot less lively than its surroundings, but that didn’t bother Logan all that much. He enjoyed school, which some people found strange, but didn’t everyone enjoy the things that they excelled at?

He walked into first period with his arms heavy with books and his bag heavy with homework, either to be handed in early or to bring up questions about some aspect of the assignment. First period English went smoothly, he handed in his annotation homework, made good progress on analysing the text they were studying (which they weren’t due to start analysing until next week, Logan just liked to get a head start), and engaged in a friendly debate about the textual meaning behind the piece they were studying, which always brought his mood up, especially considering he always had a tendency to win said debates.

Second period algebra was just as simple for him, writing examples on the board, getting extension work halfway through the class once he had finished all the other material, making notes and areas for improvement. He studied in the library during his morning break and then went straight back in for a physics class in third period.

Everything went pretty well, until fourth period biology, where he hit a small bump in the road.

The first half of the period went well, with Logan handing in one of his projects a week early, as he usually did. Although just as he was packing up to leave, his biology teacher called him up to the front, his project folder open on his desk, “All of your work is exceptional, as always Mr Sanders, however you seem to have missed a small part of the assignment”

Logan was immensely proud of his project. They had been tasked with identifying one common plant that grew in the area, and giving a detailed description on its properties, environment, cellular makeup, evolution over its existence and the like. Logan had taken great care to include every detail, so what could he possibly have missed? “Oh, my apologies sir, I wasn’t aware. I had checked and double checked my project against the instruction guide last night and found no issue, so I am curious, what did I miss?”

Logan’s biology teacher shook his head “It’s nothing major, and I won’t mark you down for it if you don’t want to go and add that now that you’ve already submitted. I’ll admit, it’s only a small detail. In the instruction guide, at the top of the page, students were asked to include either a picture or a physical example of the plant that they had selected” his teacher said, pulling out the guide and sliding it over to Logan, pointing out the part that had instructed that, “It’s easy to miss, don’t stress about it. Now, I can see that you have chosen stinging nettle, so of course I don’t expect you to go out and pick any-“

“I’ll do it” Logan said abruptly, “My apologies sir, I didn’t know that I had missed something so simple. If it’s alright, I will unsubmit my project now and I’ll bring the completed version with me tomorrow”

“Oh, you really don’t have to-“

“Nonsense, I wouldn’t want my work to be of a substandard quality. I assure you, I will have it done properly by tomorrow. Good afternoon sir” Logan said, quick to pick up his project off of the teachers desk and whisk himself out of the classroom without another word. How on Earth could he have missed something so small? He supposed he would have to put off finishing his essay that the afternoon, opting instead to take the walk into the woods at the edge of town to collect some nettle. It was fine, the essay wasn’t due for another month anyways.

When Logan sat down in the library at lunch, he was thoroughly disturbed. He still could hardly believe that he had missed something so simple, so easy. Completing the task would have taken him five minutes, and not only had he not done it, he had completely skimmed over actually doing it, he didn’t even forget, he just didn’t process the instruction.

Logan barely noticed someone sliding into the seat next to him until they cleared their throat to get his attention.

“You good there bud?” Virgil asked, seeing Logan stare off into the distance with that look in his eyes that he only got when he was overthinking something sparking a bit of concern in the older boy. “Hm? Oh, hello Virgil, yes I am perfectly adequate” Logan replied with a small nod towards his friend.

Virgil and Logan had known each other for twelve years. Twelve long years of what started out as enduring each other’s presence, to accepting it, to enjoying it. They had met in kindergarten when they were put in the same class, and forced to sit together after an argument broke out about who owned which pencil when their stationary got mixed up during arts and craft. It was some tactic to get them to get along, and for a while it didn’t work; arguments broke out every day, and many pencils were snapped in half in the process, but by the end of the year, they had begrudgingly accepted each other as acquaintances rather than enemies, and now, years down the line, that bond had only strengthened.

Virgil and Logan wouldn’t quite consider the other the only friend they had, but they would be stupid to not consider each other best friends.

Which was why Logan’s inner turmoil was more than obvious to Virgil.

“Come on, spit it out, what happened” Virgil said, dropping his bag on the floor next to him with a thud.

“It’s nothing, no time for distractions, we need to proofread your paper” Logan said, trying to grab the essay out of Virgil’s hands, not before Virgil had lifted it up and out of Logan’s reach.

“Nuh uh, nice try. You’re not getting this until you tell me what’s wrong” Virgil said, waving the paper around above Logan’s head, making the shorter boy frown at the thought of the creases the taller would be making to the paper. Much to Logan’s dismay, Virgil had always been freakishly tall, standing at almost 6’4”, towering above Logan who stood at about 5’10”. They had been the same height for most of their earlier school years, but as soon as Virgil hit the seventh grade he shot up, and ever since then he had often used his height to his advantage, and seemed to take much enjoyment out of holding things just out of Logan’s reach.

Logan sighed in annoyance and conceded “Fine. I handed in my biology project early and my professor informed me at the end of class that I had missed an instruction so it was unfinished”

Virgil blinked “And?”

“That’s all” Logan replied simply.

“That’s all?” Virgil echoed, biting back a laugh “Lo that’s no big deal, don’t worry about it. You handed it in early too so it doesn’t matter. You can just unsubmit it and bring the completed one in when it’s ready”

“I know I know, it’s just… I never miss details like that. It was such a small thing, a physical example or a picture, that was all I was missing, and the instruction was right at the top of the page and I just… missed it” Logan said, his tone suggesting that it was some crucial thing that he had skimmed over and not just a small part of his project.

“Y’know what I think Lo? I think you’re overworking yourself” Virgil said, resting his chin in his hands, keeping his paper pinned under his elbow on the table so Logan still couldn’t get to it “You need to take a break, step away from schoolwork for a bit. You’re already like months ahead of everyone else on classwork. It couldn’t hurt to stop for just a little while, clear your head. I mean, no one in a right state of mind freaks out about missing a simple part of their project, do they?”

Logan sighed heavily, wanting to argue but figuring that it was no use, Virgil had always been the stubborn type, and in some way he was correct. “I suppose you’re right, maybe I am in over my head. I’ll try to step back a bit” Virgil smiled, pleased “Good, you need it specs”

“If you say so. Now, you wanted me to proofread your paper?” Virgil raised an eyebrow amusedly and shook his head, to which Logan huffed in annoyance “Certainly your work doesn’t count as my work, I’m simply going to proofread it-“

“Nope, you’re taking a well-deserved break and that includes all forms of work including proofreading. It’s in the fine print of our agreement, and I would recommend you read it but I’m sure that counts as some kind of proofreading so no, don’t do that” Virgil said, snickering at his own joke.

Logan just rolled his eyes “You are incorrigible”

“You’re very welcome L”

The two boys sat like that for a while, engaging in a bit of friendly back and forth. It was all familiar for them, after all it wasn’t the first time that Virgil had insisted Logan took a break. He always found some way to overwork himself, through school, personal projects, or anything else that required his attention for extend periods of time. Of course, it’s not as bad as it used to be. Virgil remembered the times when he wouldn’t see Logan at all outside of classrooms for days, or sometimes weeks on end, always too busy studying at the library or finishing the mountains of extra work he had asked for in each subject. He remembered how irritable he always was, how tired he always looked. Over time, things changed, and it was better now, but it always felt like Logan was at risk of falling back into that spiral, constantly teetering on the edge. Virgil wished that Logan could eventually find some way to just step back from reality, even just for a little while, not get so caught up in school.

By the time they were supposed to head off to their last class of the day, both of the boys were in good spirits. A lively conversation mixed with a casual debate usually did wonders to lift their moods, so they both parted ways to their classes with smiles and promises to organise plans together soon.

Logan was feeling better, that little weight on his shoulders felt smaller, everything felt more manageable now that he was no longer so worked up over something so unimportant. He walked into his ancient history class with a lighter feeling in his chest, ready to get the class done and be finished for the day. He sat down in his usual seat, pulled out his notebook and pens, and started taking notes as the class began, writing down the work and answering any questions that the teacher asked. It was all normal and completely usual once more.

Logan often had a habit of getting too into his own head about minor things, especially when it came to matters of academics, something that he took very seriously. What had started out with him doing accelerated math and advanced reading in elementary school had led to him being the top of his year, winning awards for essays he submitted to competitions, and having several, rather persistent college scouts trying to persuade him into submitting an application. Even though he was at a point in his senior year where potential colleges was something that students were beginning to think over, Logan had already planned out his course and top picks for colleges, all of which he was certain he would be accepted to, and his mind was rarely changed. He liked to have things planned out in advance after all. At the very least, he was modest about it. In fact, his mothers seemed to brag more than he did about his numerous achievements. He would always claimed to be embarrassed whenever they started to boast about him, but in reality, he didn’t mind too much; it was nice to be recognized. The end of class rolled around quicker than Logan had expected, the teacher signing off with giving them a hefty homework task to complete over the weekend, leaving students groaning and mumbling in discontent while Logan just jotted it down in his notebook.

After placing his things neatly in his bag and staying back to ask his teacher one question about the homework, he left the classroom, heading towards the school gates. On a normal day he would walk home with Virgil, since he only lived about a five minute walk away from his home, however Virgil was not waiting for him at the gate today. He had messaged him a little while ago, letting him know that he was going to stay back in the library to proofread his paper that they didn’t get to read at lunch with some of the student volunteers there. Logan was very tempted to join him in the library, but he knew Virgil wouldn’t let him stay and would bring up the whole ‘overworking’ thing again, so he kept on walking, past the school gates, onto the street.

At about fifteen minutes into his walk, the lack of the usual conversation he would be having with Virgil began making things a little dull, leaving the occupation of his mind to his thoughts. At any one time Logan was thinking of many things, and this was no exception. He was thinking about how best to start his ancient history homework, if his mothers had brainstormed any weekend plans, what his grade would be on their recent math quiz, a rather tricky chemistry question that had puzzled him for quite some time, and unsurprisingly, his biology project. Even though he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t help that prickly feeling under his skin when he thought about it being handed in incomplete.

Logan stopped in the middle of the path and looked around. A decent distance from him, yet well within his line of sight, he could see the tree line that separated the suburbs from the woods that all the infrastructure was built around. Logan had heard about developers fighting over the woods for a long time, wanting to build apartment blocks, but the land was protected by the government under an environmental act; Logan was pretty sure it was a national park, or at least something of the sort.

He stayed looking at the tree line for a few moment, hesitating on a decision. He knew that Virgil warned him against worrying over the project too much but surely it couldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t take long to find a sample anyways, stinging nettle was rather common around these parts, and taking a short detour was surely better than leaving his biology project unfinished. Without another thought, Logan diverted from the sidewalk and started heading towards the woods. It was a short walk, mostly downhill, so it didn’t take long, and once he passed the tree line, the shade provided by the canopy was a welcome protection from the warm afternoon sun.

The air was cool and damp from the recent summer rains, and the leaf litter crunched softly under his feet as he walked further in, his path illuminated by the few rays of afternoon sun that snuck in through the canopy. Logan took a short moment just to look around and appreciate it all. He had always had a soft spot for nature, ever since he was a small child. His mothers were obsessed with showing him environment documentaries and watching how excited he would get over the pretty plants and cool fauna. Eventually, as he got older, that excitement turned into a genuine passion and curiosity. The natural world was certainly considered to be one of his personal interests.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a sudden strange feeling that burrowed it’s way into his chest. He didn’t know where it had come from or what exactly the feeling was, all he knew was that suddenly, his body felt a little lighter, and he felt the sudden urge to keep walking forward. For a moment he thought it was like he was being beckoned, but that was an illogical thought, it was just some strange instinct. All thoughts of the strange feeling were forgotten when he finally stumbled upon what he had been looking for; a patch of stinging nettle, well he supposed it could hardly be considered a ‘patch’, as it was arranged in a rather strange manner, growing in a perfectly neat circle on the ground in front of him, with little white flowers blossoming below each leaf. In the middle of the circle sat a smooth stone, with little tufts of moss growing off it. Logan admired it for a few moments, almost like he couldn’t quite take his eyes off of it. The feeling in his chest ached softly, he ignored it.

He thought it was strange, for the nettle to be growing in such a perfect circle like it was. Perhaps someone had come along and planted it like this, or maybe it was some wonderful coincidence. He wasn’t entirely sure, but for some reason it captivated him.

After a minute or two he caught himself getting distracted by his thoughts and snapped himself out of it. He knew collecting a sample of this stuff would be tricky, he didn’t want to get stung, and he didn’t really have the right equipment for the job. He considered turning back and waiting for another day to return when he had something safer to carry the plant with, but quickly dismissed that thought, he was here now, he might as well get it done. Besides, he had told his teacher that it would be completed by tomorrow, and he intended to live up to that claim.

Crouching down, Logan put his hand in the hem at the bottom of his shirt and used it to safely pick a piece of nettle, tearing off a few leaves near the bottom so he could let go of his shirt and hold it by the stem. He observed the piece he had taken, it was adequate, but the leaves were small and the flowers were a little wilted, not the most pristine specimen. With a slight frown, Logan looked back at the circle, and a stem of nettle across from him on the other side of the circle caught his eye; large green leaves, a tall stem, numerous little white flowers, it would do perfectly.

The young man gingerly stepped into the circle, careful not to tread on any of the other bits of nettle, and crouched down inside of it, reaching out to pick the nettle from the base of the stem to avoid getting stung. He smiled a bit, admiring it once it was in his hand as he felt that strange feeling in his chest soar. It would work perfectly, he was sure to get a good mark on his biology project, now that everything was accounted for.

Logan had time for only one more thought, that being that he was suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded, before everything suddenly went dark.

#esp #logince fic #logince fanfic #logince fanfiction #logince #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #slowburn logince #slowburn moxiety

[thegempage]

expect the unexpected (office romance, that is)

The Darkside Detective; rated T for mostly suggestive language.

Dooley comes back from getting lunch earlier than McQueen expected, and a kind offer turns out to be a sign of something more. McQueen and Dooley learn dreams can come true even in slightly dark offices.

aka: best friends to lovers except they've been pining for 20+ years bcus they're both kind of ridiculous. it's fine, though, they get there! and then they kiss about it.

as is always the case, i appreciate anyone who takes the time to read, share, kudos, and comment on my fics 💙

(a little preview below the cut, as a treat!)

McQueen felt McKing shut the door before he heard the man himself loudly proclaim that he was off to save the city by showing his face or whatever bullshit he decided on claiming for today. Which meant it was lunchtime, and that McQueen was probably alone in the station because Dooley had gone out to get lunch somewhere and McQueen had turned down his invitation (with somewhat of a heavy heart) in order to catch up on reports. He didn't actually have that many reports to catch up on, of course, but he liked the peace and quiet to do them in. Especially if he needed to edit any of "Dooley's" again (the Bloodwolves were getting better at reports, but McQueen had known Dooley for longer than they'd been alive and his voice was very present in the reports he did do).

Until, at least, there was a knock on his door some time later. A horrible second passed where he was afraid that McKing had come back to make fun of him for sitting in his office alone during lunch, but... nothing.

"Come in...?"

And in came Dooley.

#little rock.txt #ciaran does the art #the darkside detective #darkside detective #darkside detective fanfic #francis mcqueen #patrick dooley #this is the first fic i've finished for this fandom but i have two more in my back pocket to work on lmao #anyway this is very cute and it was so much fun to work on

[karisworldofwords]

Alright, incoming rant about ESC, you've been warned. See this as a continuation of the reblog I posted earlier by the way.

I feel like ever since 2018, ESC has just really taken a nose dive. This might be personal bias since 2018 was the last year Germany made it into the top ten with Michael Schulte on fourth place and ever since, we've consistently scored only last place at best, negative last at worst like it sometimes felt but I digress - my point still stands. Of course, I absolutely loved last year's ESC, especially the entries from Finland, Norway, Germany, Australia, Czechia and Slovenia, but it doesn't change the fact that Eurovision quite recently just lost its usual flair and charme to me that it had all these other years. Might be because it's getting too political, might be because songs make it into the competition that most people don't want to have there aka rigging and such, might just be a mix of both - choose whatever fits you most.

And quite honestly, I may have lied a bit when I said in the hashtags that, due to my lack of connection to this year's ESC already, I don't have as much of a hard time boycotting it because truthfully, my heart does break in various places when I know I want to watch, eat or do something that I usually enjoy, but I can't because otherwise, I'd just show my silent support and approval for something that's happening or just generally going on that I don't agree with because, well, my personal morals would like to have a word there. Think of it as me being a queer American eating at Chick-fil-A - I'd actively go against my own community by supporting this company, as it's known that they regularly donate rather large sums of money to openly homophobic and transphobic organizations. It's something along those lines.

Key words here: The Russia-Ukraine war and the Palestinian genocide. Especially the latter however.

And I wanna use this opportunity and say: If you support Isr*hell and you follow my page, please unfollow me. Block me if you must, but at least unfollow me - because I do not support genocide in any way, shape or form. And you cannot argue with me that what Isr*hell is doing isn't genocide, because going from the word's definition, it quite literally is.

Just today, I learned through that post I reposted onto my feed here that Isr*hell is still allowed to participate in ESC, despite its atrocious deeds against Palestine. Just today, I also learned through a trusted friend that the Palestinian flag isn't allowed in the venue in Malmö during the contest, whereas the Isr*helli flag is still allowed. All while Russia is still banned from said contest for reasons quite similar to what Isr*hell is currently committing. It's called ethnic cleansing, by the way, there's no use in dancing around the topic and trying to talk it prettier - "schön reden", as we Germans say.

Once I heard of these things, my decision was clear as day - and I openly admit that I didn't have a broken heart at first. That only set in later, once the realization of the actual gravity of this whole situation completely hit me, as if I just got smacked by a brick straight in the face and my glasses shattered into my opened eyes. That's what it felt like to me once everything finally set in - once I knew "Yeah, a country has fucked up again yet is still allowed to do its thing so I'll have to boycott it because I have a conscience, unlike those people".

Now think about what the EBU decided to do. When Russia first started attacking Ukraine so mercilessly, Russia was kicked from Eurovision. Unrelated to the Slavic war but when Belarus pretty much abolished freedom of speech, they were kicked as well. But now that Isr*hell is actively lynching thousands of people day by day, it's suddenly alright and they're still allowed to participate? Where does the hypocrisy stem from? The absolutely blatant double-standard? The utter definition of "Rules for thee, not for me"? My guess lies in what happened during the 40's - which might also very well be the reason why my country's government vehemently defends this straight-up murderous country whilst claiming the country these individuals (to stay at least somewhat respectful although I don't really believe they deserve it) are currently actively demolishing, pulverizing and erasing from the maps never existed in the first place and thus, it doesn't really matter. Because Isr*hell is the place where Jews were from, where they started spreading from - not like a disease of course, just generally speaking - and where their roots have always lied. Because of what happened to them back then, they're now all scared to openly say "Ayo, guys, that ain't exactly right, don'tcha think?" since it's pretty clear - at least to me - that then, these people would pull the N*zi card almost immediately and scream discrimination based on just that.

A religion's basis being somewhere specific and having had to watch that religion be almost wiped out completely due to absolute lunatics back then isn't a reason to abuse that power though and play victim whenever it feels right to them. If anything, one would think that it'd be more of a reason to look back at what happened during those times and teach the future generations "This is what happened, let's all work together and make sure we never become like them back then". But instead, they abuse their victim status of back then into today's day and age, making many Jews around the world look absolutely horrendous in the process and throwing their own people under the bus by openly doing what had once been done to them. Makes me question if it's a weird form of Stockholm Syndrome, to be honest.

And the EBU allows it. When just a year or two before, they went all strict parent on another aggressor who did quite a similar thing. Make it make sense.

Thanks for coming to my Tumblr TED talk, and sorry for the length of it - I also have no idea if all of this makes sense, I'm just really pissed about this situation at the moment and needed to vent. Feel free to add your own thoughts as well, if you'd like, I'm always open for discussions as long as they're respectful and in a dignified manner.

#esc #eurovision 2024 #eurovision song contest #eurovision #free palestine #🍉 #ebu #and again just so y'all get it #those of you who follow me who support these murderers can fuck right off #unfollow me block me what have you #just don't fucking interact with me #and don't even *try* to start an argument with me as you *will* be blocked instantly #thanks y'all