#as per usual i am uncertain that it looks good but!!! it was fun to make regardless

[thekidsarentalright]

keep quiet, nothing comes as easy as you

#haiii :3 just a lil simple lil collage <3 #for one of my fav fob songs i rly. wanted to use the imagery of burnt paper so xx #as per usual i am uncertain that it looks good but!!! it was fun to make regardless #txt #c.txt #fall out boy #fob #nobody puts baby in the corner #from under the cork tree #digital collage #collage #p: 100 #p: 500

[with-love-from-hell]

Family Line

Fandom: Obey Me!

Characters Featured: Lucifer

Written for a GN!Mc, (you/yours, they/them pronouns used)

Genre: Hurt*/Comfort

Wc: ~1.2k

Cw: abusive parent (father), mentions of emotional and physical abuse, resentment and relationship grief, *leaning WAY into the hurt on this one, noted Mc has siblings

(Here is a version with my Mc, Storm)

》A/N: I wrote this fic with the song Family Line by Conan Gray playing.

Lucifer paced slowly down the hallway of the second floor of the House of Lamentation. The nightly routine to ensure all his brothers were still accounted for in the wee hours of the morning was tiring, but it was the last task he needed to complete before turning in himself for the night. As per usual, Asmo had just entered his room after spending a late night at the fall, and the sound of Levi cursing at one of his video games was occasionally heard in the distance.

The last room to check across the hall from his own was Mc’s. Usually, they slept rather well, going to bed earliest out of everyone in the house. Tonight though, something was off. Lucifer raised a brow as he approached the room, uncertain if he was actually seeing light shining from the underside of the door. As if sooner believing he would be going crazy, he checked his watch- seeing the clock showing 1:45am back at him.

Maybe they fell asleep doing homework, he posited, approaching their door curiously. He paused before knocking, trying to listen closely to the music playing from behind the thick wooden door.

“...I can’t forget, I can’t forgive you ‘cause now I’m scared that everyone I love will leave me...”

Lucifer frowned. The somber melody continued, telling a story of pain and suffering caused by the individuals a child is supposed to trust and feel loved by. After listening to a few more bars, he knocked on the door- hearing the music decrease in volume slightly. There was a short pause, and then the door slowly unlocked and opened.

Lucifer sucked in a terse breath, seeing the clear evidence of your woe worn plainly on your face. You refused to make eye contact with him, instead staring at the ground. “S-sorry, Lucifer. I’ll turn it down, I didn’t mean to keep you awake.”

Lucifer felt his heart squeeze in his chest. “Mc, is everything alright?”

You glanced up at him briefly before looking down again, your bottom lip trembling slightly as they desperately tried to hold back tears. After realizing there was no use being dishonest with the first borne, you shook their head.

Lucifer nodded, gesturing into the room. You stepped aside, wiping your eyes as he entered. You shut the door quietly behind him, pausing as he picked up your phone to look at the song you had been listening to. He scrolled down to the lyrics, reading them over carefully. With each line, his heart ached more and more- not only for you, but for himself.

“Why are you listening to this song?” Lucifer pondered aloud, turning to face you. “And why so late tonight?”

You sighed as you approached your bed, sinking down onto the push mattress. Lucifer quickly joined, watching your expressions carefully.

“I talked to him earlier tonight.” You stated flatly, trying to stop the shaking in your voice.

Lucifer raised a brow. “Your father?”

You nod, rubbing your forearm. “Yeah...”

“Ah- I’m assuming he gave you the usual- lectures, degradation, and insults?”

You scoffed. “Pretty much, yeah. But...” You paused, turning your head away from him.

Lucifer took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “But?”

You take a deep breath. “It felt different today, I guess. Like, after seeing all of the texts in our group chat between him and my siblings happily sharing childhood pictures. Every single one of them, they were smiling and having fun.”

Lucifer nodded, squeezing their hand once more to reassure them that he was here.

“I...” they bit their lip, “...I couldn’t find a single one that brought back good memories. I look miserable in all of them- even the ones where I am smiling. It just makes me think...like...Is there something wrong with me..? Why does he treat me so terribly? What did I do to deserve..?”

You burst into tears, snatching your hand away from lucifer and covering your eyes to try to hide how shameful you felt for acting such a way in front of the Avatar of Pride. The pain you felt ran deep, the mixture of resentment, grief, hurt, insecurity, self-blame, and anger all overflowing out of you like a waterfall.

Lucifer felt his heart splinter as they sobbed, feeling the emotion flooding their aura with each shuddered breath and wail in agony. He inched closer, pulling them into a tight embrace. He rubbed their back as they cried into his chest, gripping the lapel of his vest tightly to ground themself.

As they cried, his mind wandered back to the song lyrics, reflecting on his own experience with his father. It was different than Mc’s experience, sure- but it’s not like Lucifer forgot the numerous lies he was told for the sake of manipulation, the way his own father would shame him or degrade him for anything he did that didn’t fit his “grand plan,” the over-the-top expectations that Lucifer tried to meet, but was never able to, the emotional distance...and he remembered the punishments far too vividly. Not only for him, but for his brothers as well.

Lucifer gripped your back, feeling tears threaten to spill from his own eyes as memories of the toxicity within his own family lineage. He closed his eyes, trying to regulate his breath as he rested his chin atop your trembling head.

You sat together like this for quite some time- not that either of you was really keeping track. When you had expelled all the tears your body could release, Lucifer finally said his piece.

“Mc, you did nothing to deserve such terrible treatment. A parent is supposed to love their children unconditionally, and your Father clearly failed in that moral duty.” Lucifer paused, taking a deep breath. “Nothing will change what has happened to you, or the fact that he still treats you this way, but I can assure you that you don’t deserve it- not one bit.”

You nodded somberly, though seemingly remained unconvinced. Lucifer rubbed his thumb across your shoulder as he waited for you to find the words to speak, allowing you to take as much time as you needed.

“I just...” you hiccupped, your breaths still slightly uneven. “I...I never got to have a dad- not like my siblings did. And I...I just wish I could have that. I want it so bad it h-hurts.”

Lucifer closed his eyes, taking another deep breath, though this time it was his turn to shed tears. You snap your attention to him and pressed a hand to Lucifer’s thigh, concerned over what you had said to produce such a reaction.

“I understand that feeling, Mc.” He murmured quietly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “And it’s something I don’t think I myself have properly addressed. Perhaps, while we should grieve the loss of a relationship that will never be, we should also keep close the individuals who cherish us for who we are- warts and all.”

You nod, chewing on his words.  Inching closer, you rest your head against his chest, finding comfort in his steady heartbeat. “Then...could you stay with me a little longer tonight, Luci? I don’t...I don’t think I want to be alone right now.”

Lucifer pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, clutching you tighter to his chest. “Of course, my love. I’m not going anywhere.”

#obey me! #obey me #shall we date: obey me #obey me swd #obm #obey me lucifer #obey me fic #fic #obm fic #obm hurt/comfort #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me hurt #hurt #hurt/comfort #obm hurt #obey me lucifer x mc #obm lucifer #soft!lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #gn!mc #gn!reader #obey me gn!reader #obey me gn!mc #obm gn!mc #obm gn!reader

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Into the Woods

The path to its depths is deep and dark and dangerous.

This is part 14. We’re almost three quarters of the way through this long and winding story.

The Tale of the Cursed Raven:

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 I Part 13

Dire,

When this letter finds you, time will have started ticking for me again. I will be gone, and the girl will be at your doorstep.

As per our arrangement many moons ago, I am entrusting you with the care of my apprentice. She is a mild-mannered little thing. She will work well and work efficiently if left to her own devices. All you need do is provide her with the basic necessities—food, water, clothing, shelter, and, of course, paper, quill, and ink.  

But I am not writing to you out of kindness, nor as a courtesy. I am writing to you to give a warning: there is something unsettling about that girl.

Her stare wakes me in the dead of night. She’s sleeping by then, but I feel her gaze piercing me all the same. Those big, curious eyes, always wondering, and always wanting to know more. When she looks at me, I feel as though she is scraping talons across my mind, seeking a way in to steal away my thoughts.

She watches for fun. People, animals. When I take her into the town, she observes and asks questions. Too many of them.

Strange things started happening.

Rats infested our pantry, nibbling only at the pumpkins. The neighbors would mysteriously vanish. My eyes would spontaneously water.

I do not cry, Dire.

I thought her to be a child favored by misfortune.

Then I read her stories, and I knew it was no coincidence, nor a string of bad luck.

When she told of vermin seeking out a pumpkin carriage, she summoned the rats to her. When she wrote of people dying of heartbreak, they did. When she wished for sadness or anger or happiness, they would manifest and lead others down her desired path.

The weather, the world—they would not bend to her, no matter how often she described dark and stormy nights. Time and space are not hers to wield—but minds? Of that, I am uncertain.

She plants seeds that take root in the heart, then fester in the head. Drives people mad.

That girl has the capacity to be dangerous, Dire. The stories she spins can will people into serving as mere playthings.

I do not understand how it works myself. I believe she doesn’t yet know the full extent of her powers, either. She is too young, too naive. Perhaps that is for the better. For her, for us, and for all of Twisted Wonderland.

But even a storyteller cannot stop the hands of time.

One day, she will cultivate those powers. Whether they are used for good, for evil, or for something inbetween...

That is in your hands now.

Farewell.

I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight, Crowley worriedly fumes, chiding himself. He flies down a corridor, harshly raking fingers through his hair. It was foolish of me to think she would not act rashly.

He should have noticed the warning signs sooner. The loneliness, the mounting frustrations, the constant push to pursue higher heights, the blot.

What had happened that night? And what had been the missing piece that had fallen into place, the part required to make her magic work? What had stopped it all those times she had practiced?

He recalls the color of Nostalgia—a pleasant pink, rosy like the fondest memories. It had been fuzzy, but tingly and warm, if only for a few seconds before it escaped him and burst like firecrackers into the world. She could never quite get it to concentrate, to collect, and to stay that way.

But if she did… there’s no telling what she could drive a man or a monster to do.

Crowley shivers, batting the thought away as he descends upon the Mirror Chamber.

As usual, it is dim, darkness illuminated faintly by the flames set in sconces and crystalline lights. Floating coffins in a circle around the perimeter, and a grand mirror in the center. The Mirror of Darkness.

Crowley steps before it, bowing his head in reverence.

Please don’t come looking for me, Raven had pleaded in her note. This is something I have to do alone, and by my own hand.

Her voice had permeated in every letter, in each stroke of her pen. He could almost feel her leaping off of the page, could almost see her peering into him, silently pleading. Curious eyes, the sort that stared into his heart and soul.

Seeking something.

Please, Uncle.

A ghoulishly green face emerges from the depths of the mirror. Its features are carved from marble, eyes adorned in an intricate, swirling black lattice.

“Speak,” the Mirror of Darkness booms.

Please.

Crowley shakes his head.

… Forgive me.

“Show me Raven. Tell me where she has run off to.”

The face in the mirror pauses, silently searching for the answer. Moments later, his lips move, the reply falling from them heavy as stones. “... Impossible.

“What?”

“It is impossible to ascertain her location at this time,” the Mirror clarifies.

“Well, try again. Try harder!!”

“I have reached, and I have found nothing. Her presence is unknown to me.”

Everything in Crowley goes cold. His heart and his blood slow to a stop, his limbs turning limp and frigid. Goosebumps prick up on his flesh.

“Th-That... That cannot be. If her presence is unable to be detected, then that means she is...”

No longer a part of this world.

“... Alive. The raven is still alive.”

The headmaster jolts, jump-started again by sparks of hope. He practically seizes the Mirror by its frame, but—miraculously—restrains himself.

“The presence is faint, but I feel her,” it continues. “There is a great wall of magic, a force preventing interference. I know not how it was deployed, or by whom. It does not belong to Night Raven College. But she has fled beyond that barrier, beyond the boundary.”

“Beyond!”

The word carries in the cold quiet of the chambers, rattling the crystals on the grand chandelier hanging overhead. The dancing flames flicker, shuddering at the suggestion.

“Beyond,” the mirror confirmed. “Where exactly, I cannot say.”

“If that is all the information that you can provide…” Crowley doesn’t finish, letting the hopeful lilt in his voice speak for him. To his dismay, the mirror offers no more clues. The green faces fades into oblivion, leaving the headmaster alone.

Gears in his head turn. Spinning and spiraling as fast as they can.

It’s far too large of an area to scope out by my lonesome, he muses. I need more bodies to cover such an expensive swathe of land, but to endanger the students is… No, there’s no time to waste. A small elite team will do.

Crowley twirls his walking stick—an elongated, sleek ebony key, with a golden head and teeth. Magic spills out from it, emitting a faint glow.

Speakers all across campus come to life.

Crowley clears his throat, bringing his mouth close to the head of his walking stick—to his microphone.

“Ah-HEM!! Good morning, all. This is your oh-so-very kind headmaster, Dire Crowley, speaking.” He can already feel the collective, unanimous groans shared by his students and staff through the intercoms, but he presses on regardless. “I am here today with an important announcement.

“All classes are cancelled. This is a not a drill; this is a campus-wide lockdown. Students, please return to your dorms until further notice.

“Dorm leaders and staff, assist students to their rooms and ensure that the grounds are free of loiterers. Report to the Mirror Chamber when all your students have been filed away and safely accounted for.”

We’ll be going on a bird hunt.

Deep in the heart of the woods, someone rests by a great lake. The lake’s face shimmers and reflects the sky, a giant mirror throwing light and colors and shapes back from whence they came.

“Breakfast for you, my pretties,” they croon, their trill filling the forest.

Crouching, hand outstretched, they set bits of bread into the grass and bobbing upon the water. Wild birds collect around them, taking turns pecking at the morsels. Blue jays, robins, ducks.

Swans and doves.

Fragile and pristine little things, creatures yet to be soiled by the cruel world.

They chuckle, tossing their final chunk of bread into the lake.

“... Have you heard the Tale of the Cursed Raven?”

They whisper the question, which skips across the waters. The swan and the dove closest to her perk their heads up, keen on listening.

“Long ago, a loveless king was cursed to storytelling. That man would pass his burden unto another. Now a bird bears his legacy, making his story into her own.” They looked across the lake at something that none of their bird companions could see. “... It has yet to be finished, but I believe I know how it will end.”

Stories are set to repeat themselves, after all. And if that cowardly man failed to redeem himself, then...

“What do you think will become of her?” They weave their fingers through the water. It ripples, rings overlapping in the lake. The swan and the dove stare back at their visitor with curious eyes. “Straying from the path as she has...”

Defy the story, and the story will snap back, baring its teeth and claws to correct itself.

To put you back on its path.

“Do you think her deserving of a happily ever after?”

Rook had seen this scene play out before; countless renditions of it, in fact: Raven, a basket in hand, delving deep, deep into the woods.

So why is there such dread collecting in his stomach this time? Things writhing and twisting into chaotic knots. His huntsman’s intuitive is on overdrive, screaming danger, danger at him.

Yet as far as he can tell, this is nothing more than her usual stroll for ingredients for a new batch of enchanted inks. As quaint and as mundane as a sleepy Monday, a return to the norm.

He tenses from his hiding place, letting the cool shadows swathe his skin and conceal him from view. His heart stills in spite of his racing thoughts and the accumulating worry.

Rook waits.

From not far off comes faint rustling, then a whoop.

“Found some!” Broad-capped mushrooms, colored a startling shade of blue, are tossed into a basket.

Raven looks worse for wear.

Her feather shawl and impossibly black clothes are stained with dirt and smears of chlorophyll. Hair either clings to her face, which is damp with sweat, or sticks up, frizzing in the humidity. She’s dusty and haggard--but a single drop of joy lights up her entire face.

Raven leans against a tree trunk, producing a quill and a small booklet from within her shawl. The gemstone inlaid in her writing implement is still foggy with remnants of last night.

“Inky milk caps... check,” she murmurs, crossing it off of her list. The bird glances into her basket, taking quiet inventory of her collection.

A scattering of navy berries, a few cerulean wildflowers, a single stone that was tainted the faintest periwinkle, and then the mushrooms. Some vials of crystal clear water, not blue but a base in which to suspend it. Altogether, not a lot of ingredients to pick and choose from.

Raven bites her lower lip, nervously dragging her tongue along the back of her teeth.

There weren’t many natural sources of blue in nature. It was as though the sky had claimed most of the pigment for itself, leaving the rest of the world to scrounge for its scraps.

Think, think. Where else can I find this color?

Raven scrunches her brows, delving deeper and deeper into her brain to pull at budding suggestions. Alas, she comes away empty-handed, the residual frustration gnawing at her, and discarded ideas laying at her feet.

“.. Tch.”

She casts a forlorn look out upon the glistening lake. At first glance, it looks as blue as the sky—but she knows that it is only a trick of the light.

You just had to pick the hardest color, didn’t you? she scolds herself.

But nothing else would have been appropriate. Nothing else could encapsulate all the sorrow and the joy, could adequately tell her tale.

Maybe there’s something deeper in these woods.

Raven tucks her book and quill away, looping her basket of ink ingredients on her arm. She begins her shuffle around the perimeter of the lake. Her reflection in the water follows perfectly.

Every wobbly, uncertain movement.

This is where I was, once upon a dream.

Picking flowers with Rook. Floating in a boat with Jade. Flying freely, doing as she pleased and going wherever the wind took her. A dream so wonderful she never wanted to wake from it, and wished to chase it when she did.

She sets her jaw, determined.

“I can do this.”

She says it out loud, willing the dream to become reality.

“I can.”

Raven takes another step, and the forest exploded with shrill shriek. She yelps, slapping hands over her ears to block out the noise. It comes to her muffled, but stays just as desperate.

That’s…

She slowly lowers her hands—and sound slips through her fingers.

“… lp………………..”

Words spoken in bird tongue. High-pitched and frightened, young and confused.

“… elp….! Help me!!”

Raven’s spine stiffens, her head snapping in the direction of the call. The opposite way of the path she had been treading on.

Ignore it.

She bites her lip and wrenches away, guiltily shrinking into her shawl.

“… hurts… I-It hurts…”

Her foot crashes down on the spot.

“Mommy…! Daddy…! Where… where are you?”

She spins around, her ears straining to pick up more, her pupils pinpricks.

“Someone… A-Anyone…!!”

Raven is flying before she even knows it. There are no thoughts in her head, no hesitation in her gait, as she tromps through the forest, drawn by the cry.

“I’m coming…!! I’m coming for you!!” she shouts back. Raven is just as frantic and as lost as they are, voice warbling unnaturally. “Keep calling, keep singing—I’ll find you!”

The bird’s call is weak, but it grows in volume as she approaches. A vague murmur becomes a whisper, and the whisper, a sob in an empty room.

Distinctly there.

A feeble coo weaves through the thickets. So small that it would shatter from a sigh, fragile like a glass slipper.

With voice as her guide, she stubbornly presses on, fueled by foolish wish. To cradle and to mend, to restore what was lost.

“Here. I’m here.”

She pushes aside the last of the shrubs in her way. “I hear y—”

Raven stops when she finally sees it. Her stomach tightens into a knot.

“Oh… Oh no…”

Raven crumples to her knees.

A handsome baby robin small enough to fit in her palm lies in the grass. Its belly is a deep orange, bright against the dark feathers on the rest of its body. The bird watches Raven with wide eyes—round and dark, lit by a faint spark.

Its wings are askew. Twitching and tender, set at unnatural angles.

“They’re broken.”

“It hurts, it hurts,” the robin babbles, fighting back tears.

A million feelings seize her at once. She blurts out a hastily cobbled response, held together by pins and tape and patchwork.

But it is a binding promise, a vow.

“I-It’s okay!! Leave it to me, I’ll figure something out!”

Raven slams down her basket and hurriedly digs through it. Her mind is suddenly blank, as though all of her thoughts were notes torn out and crumpled into a ball, then discarded.

Plants, a rock, some water. All useless. No medicine, no first aid kit.

Think, think. What else is there? What else can I do?

She grits her teeth.

Gripping her skirt and anchoring it in one hand, she tears with as much force as she can muster with the other. A loud RIIIIIIIP resounds as a piece of cloth comes loose, then a second one.

“I’m going to reorient your wings, then bandage them. Please bear with me, it might be… uncomfortable.”

The robin flails against her as Raven scoops it up, her finger firmly holding the bird down. Fear and distrust flash through its eyes, spiking when she comes upon a wing. She holds her break and snaps it flush to the robin’s body.

A bloodchilling scream tears through the forest.

Raven winces, but wills herself to work quickly, while the robin is still stunned by pain. She weaves a cloth of her skirt fabric in a criss-cross on the wing, securing it with a bow at the end.

The same was done for the other wing—and by the time both sides were done, the baby robin was in shambles, more tearful than it had been to begin with. Pain barks through its small body, plunging talons into what remained of its calm.

“My wings,” it chokes out, “I can’t fly…!! I can’t go home!! I’m… I’m going to be left behind!!”

“No. No, that’s not true! Your wings… They’ll heal over time. You’ll be back in the sky in no time! Your family will come looking for you…!”

She reaches for the robin, laying a hand on its head, smoothing the feathers back. It kicks and screeches and bites, snapping at the air until its beak cut clean through her glove.

“My wings, my wings…! It hurts, it’s over, it’s over…”

The robin is delirious, speaking nonsensically and in circles.

Raven’s hopes sink, and she pulls her hand away, gently setting the robin back on the forest floor. It continues to wail, staring up at the sky through the crevices in the tree leaves.

A sky so blue and so beautiful.

You’ve done what you could, a part of her reasons. Leave it. You can’t afford to exert yourself any more than you already have.

Raven’s chest aches, pushing back against the thought. He’ll be easy target for the predators. And… this is no way for him to live, either.

A little bird that knew nothing of the world. Dazed, afraid, and lonely. Longing for something now far out of reach.

Hadn’t this been her own position not too long ago? Wasn’t it still where she stood now?

Bird and bird, soul to soul.

Herself reflected back in the face of a mirror.

… No. That’s not me, not anymore.

Raven harshly balls her hands, creasing her skirt. Dirty, disheveled, and distressed, she’s the pauper in any fairy tale—but the sweat upon her brow sparkles like a tiara, and she wears the muck like proud armor.

Her spirit shines as brightly as her eyes.

She draws her magical quill. Its gemstone lacks clarity, the color shrouded by black blotches.

“I won’t go,” Raven declares. “I won’t give up on you.”

“I don’t believe this.” Riddle angrily swats at a low hanging branch with his staff. It flings away from him before recoiling, almost claiming his head on the rebound.

“For classes to be cancelled,” the redhead grumbles as he stomps over a log, “and the dorm leaders to be sentenced to busy work…!! The headmaster’s priorities are all out of line. A tardy student should be located and disciplined, but surely it isn’t necessary to deploy this many…”

“Riddle-san.”

A little ways ahead of him, Azul has craned his head over his shoulder. His mouth is twisted into a wry smile.

I don’t like that look.

Riddle bristles, but allows his tirade die down into an inquisitive quiet. “… You seem oddly unperturbed by this turn of events. This is wouldn’t possibly be Octavinelle’s doing, would it?”

“Perish the thought. What could I possibly hope to gain from forcing a campus wide lockdown? The Mostro Lounge will receive no customers in these circumstances.” The sunlight catches on his lenses as he pushes them up, but obscuring his eyes.

“I understand how to keep calm in stressful situations. Why, you saw it for yourself. The headmaster was simply beside himself with worry at the emergency meeting.”

“This matter is hardly urgent,” Riddle scoffs. “Even if Raven is the headmaster’s relative, a single missing student does not make or break Night Raven College.”

“That was not the case for your Overblot, now was it? Nor mine.”

He twitches, riled by rage. “That is a different matter entirely. That was Overblot. We were… out of control. Out of our minds.”

“… Permit me to ask you this, then.” Azul makes a full turn to face his fellow dorm leader. “Do you believe there is a unique magic that is capable of controlling the world?”

“What sort of a silly question is that? Of course there is no such thing.”

Azul laughs airily. “Impossible, yes? No one, not even Malleus-san, has such power. But… what of the living beings that inhabit the world? Then it would be an entirely different story.”

“That would be in the realm of possibility.” Riddle pauses, narrowing his eyes. “… Where are you going with this?”

“You recall Jamil-san’s unique magic, don’t you? It can seize the mind of another person, turning them into little less than a puppet.”

“I am aware.” Riddle grimaces at the grim reminder. “How does this relate to our mission?”

“What if I were to tell you that Raven-san’s unique magic is just as dangerous? Through it, forcing one’s will is possible—for if one speaks to the heart, the mind will follow shortly after.

“Thoughts don’t always disappear. They will linger and influence us well after the magic has faded.

“Unending rage that reduces all to ashes. Sorrow so deep it floods the earth and drowns its people. Joy strong enough to lift the sun and the moon on its shoulders. It would be a rewritten world with us set upon paths predetermined, for emotion is the impetus which compels us to act.”

“You don’t mean…”

“That’s right.”

Hers is a unique magic that rewrites one’s emotions.

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Raven Crowley #Azul Ashengrotto #Riddle Rosehearts #Rook Hunt #Dire Crowley #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #very mild spoilers for episode 6 😂 #Tale of the Cursed Raven

[z-h-i-e]

New Year Fanfic Asks - Part 1/5

My good friend Anonymous, who is responsible for many shenanigans in my inbox, has asked for all of the questions to be answered from the New Year Fanfic Asks. I am splitting the answers into five parts so I don't break Tumblr.

1. Do you have a word-count goal for the upcoming year?

Absolutely not. I try to write a little every day. I usually write at least 100K words per year. 

2. Will you participate in any fandom exchanges or fic challenges, etc? 

I do a lot of pinch hitting. I can put together stories rather quickly, so I’m sure I’ll end up doing some of that. Already finished my MSV entry, so I’m on deck if needed.  Unsure about TRSB this year.  I might like to have a summer off on the writing side; potentially I might still throw a piece of art in there because I have one I started working on during the pandemic I might actually get finished in time this year.  There’s also the ones I help run–so I’ve got at least one thing into Screw Yule, I’m working on the parts of B2MEM that I am responsible for (super fun theme this year), and then later in the year we’ll have Scribbles & Drabbles again. 

3. Do you anticipate writing for a new fandom this year? Which one?

Uncertain. I have nothing planned, but when I was in bed having mindful time this morning before I got up, I was thinking on the fact that I spent about twenty years deeply rooted in one fandom, and now I have spent a little over 20 years rooted in another fandom, and it feels like I’m due for some sort of change.  I feel like I’ve been setting myself up with all of the shuffling things onto AO3 and making lists and whatnot for the inevitability of change.  I don’t think that change is a fandom, though. Right before the pandemic, I had arranged a lot of time and expectations to work on some original fiction I’ve dabbled in since 2006, but when the pandemic happened, I had to just manage life, the universe, and everything with choices related to keeping my sanity in a world where there were a lot of people relying on me to keep them calm.  It was also at the start of the pandemic that we learned our dog had a major heart issue, and that led to medication and regular procedures and I don’t even want to think about the money it took to keep him around another two years (but, honestly, in hindsight, I’d still do it all again, because we were told 18 months max, and he made it just past his 10th birthday). I think I am finally in a place again where I can start to consider planning time for that.  

4. Do you think you’ll stop writing for a fandom this year? Which one?

I don’t think of things as stopping writing for a fandom – I wrote a short ThunderCats scene last year – it’s more like, going on hiatus. 

5. Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

This question came through earlier, and I answered with Phoenix.  I’m going to double down on that, but I’ll provide a different snippet under the cut and resume answering questions in another post…This snippet is a Thranduil/Finrod scene, or at least, the teasing beginning of one.

Immediately after Thranduil and Felagund were seated, a plate with steamed salmon, mixed green vegetables, and wild rice was placed before each of them simultaneously.  A second item was set before Felagund, between him and the plate.  It was a long, rectangular wooden box, inlaid with ivory. He looked at it curiously as Thranduil motioned for the wine to be poured.  

“That is a small gift, from me to you,” said Thranduil as the servants stepped off into the shadows.  He lifted his wine bowl.  “You have been hard at work, and with the next few days off, I thought you might enjoy it.  I was going to save it, but then, for what am I waiting?”

Felagund pressed his lips together and traced his fingertips along the edge of the box.

“Of course, it is your choice whether to open it now or wait until after dinner,” said Thranduil.  He picked up the wine bottle and topped off the bowl.  “Either way, I intend to fuck you with it this evening.”

Felagund’s gaze snapped up to focus on Thranduil, who now had a forkful of spinach and was keeping watch on Felagund’s movements.  As he looked back down to the box, Felagund lifted the lid up with both hands.  He let out an audible breath.  “This is...exquisitely crafted.  Is it a rep,uh, rep-replica of–?”

“Yes.”  Thranduil continued to eat calmly.  “When we first arrived, you asked for something I cannot give you at this time.  This, I can give.  I hope you do not find it too crude.”

The lid of the box closed.  Felagund looked down at the ornate box for a few seconds before he placed the napkin from his lap onto the table.  Thranduil watched, and drank from his bowl of wine.  Felagund pushed his chair back and stood up.  

“Of course, if you prefer to wait for the real thing…”  Thranduil paused as Felagund picked up the box and carried it to the other end of the marble table, one hand on the table to keep his balance.  The box was set down next to the wine bowl.  “If it displeases you–”

Felagund grasped Thranduil’s face in both hands and leaned down to kiss him deeply, tongue mimicking the suggestion Thranduil made for later that night.  Then Felagund said, “Now.”

Thranduil arched a brow.  “I thought you were hungry.”

After he leaned down again and kissed Thranduil a second time, Felagund said, “I hunger for something only you can feed me.”

One of Thranduil’s hands came up behind Felagund’s neck.  He kneaded, and Felagund groaned.  “Alright.  Get on your hands and knees over there,” said Thranduil, motioning with his other hand.

Felagund looked over his shoulder.  “Here?”

Thranduil grasped Felagund’s chin to turn his head back.  “You did say ‘now’.”

#fanfic asks #thranduil/finrod #bling kings

[casspurrjoybell-20]

Sky Twizzlers - Chapter 1a

*Warning Adult Content*

Art Auction? - Part 1 - Evander  

I knew he shouldn't have trusted Roland. He'd snuck on me when he was taking out his car keys and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. The fact that he'd snuck on him made Evander very mad. Usually, he could sense him long before he could get the jump on me but my mind was more focused on the need to get home as quickly as possible, work had been awful.

"I will break your arm if you do not remove it," I said before he could open his mouth.

The hyena shifter laughed awkwardly, but hastily removed his arm as per my instruction. 

"Evan, come on, man. Let's go have some fun."

I turned to look at him. For a man in his mid-thirties, he acted too much like a child for my tastes. I always saw him hitting on the girls in our department, even if it's against company policy and chatting loudly when he should've been working. It was a wonder he'd gotten so high up in the chain of command when he was so unfocused and immature. 

"I'd rather not," I replied, crossing my arms and leaning against my car.

Roland sighed, rolling his eyes. 

"I knew you wouldn't be up for it. It was going to be awesome, too. An art auction, super private and elite from what I heard."

His words piqued my interest for once. 

"An art auction?”

I'd always had a soft spot for pretty things. My home was filled with enough artwork to fill an art gallery but I was always still on the lookout for more. Damn hyena knew exactly what to say to make me reconsider. 

"Is it really an art auction or are you just pulling on my leg?"

The man cracked a large grin. 

"Oh, it's real. I hear it's got some real beauties and this guy right here knows how to get in."

I should've paused to consider the way he said that but I was too distracted by the prospect of leaving that auction with more pieces for my collection. 

"Fine, I'll join you. When does it start?"

"Pick me up at eight."

"Why do I have to pick you up? You have your own car," I asked him.

He shrugged. 

"You have a cooler car. I want to ride in style."

I watched as he walked off, still a bit unsure as to why I just agreed to go out with him of all people.

                                               ********

I waited in front of Roland's house at seven-fifty. I didn't want to be late, especially since I didn't know anything about the catalog and I wanted to check it out before bidding started. Before I drove here, I'd tried looking into the auction. I wish Roland would've told me yesterday or earlier so I could register as a buyer but even when I looked at local auction houses, nothing was going on that aligned with what Roland told me. 

That alone should have sent warning bells off in my head but he did say it was a private affair. I hadn't been to many private auctions, so maybe they were different. And because I was so uncertain about what to expect, I dressed up in a nice suit and made sure my hair was neat. Even if I wasn't able to buy, if any of the artists were there, you never knew, then maybe I could buy from them that way. 

Good impressions were important. Roland came out a few minutes later, just before eight, with a jacket covering a button-up overtop some slack and dress shoes. Good, so I wasn't the only one dressing up, though he was a bit more casual than I was. He hopped into my car and whistled when he saw me. 

"I always forget how handsome you are in a suit. You rarely wear them into work."

I didn't answer to his compliment and instead asked...

"Where am I going?"

He gave me the address and we started driving. Roland tried multiple times to change the music station but I slapped his hand away. 

"Evan, this is old man music. And I know you're ancient but I don't want to fall asleep before we get there."

"I'm not that old," I snapped. 

"Besides, classical music is timeless. I don't even like the music from my time."

"I beg to differ. One hundred and fifty years is ancient in my book," Roland argued.

"Then you obviously haven't met many immortals," I muttered.

Compared to a lot of other creatures who were technically immortal, I was a toddler. Not even two centuries old. Still, I didn't know many other immortals aside from my coven and vampires, like myself, were usually the first to come to mind. To Roland's mortal self, I was ‘ancient.’ The car fell silent after that, and soon we were turning onto a road surrounded by forests on either side. The road stretched on for quite some while until it led to a set of gates. A guard walked up to the car and I rolled down my window to speak to him but Roland cut me off. 

"We're here for the auction," he said.

The guard looked at us for a moment before nodding his head. No identification? Nothing? He walked off to open the gate for us and as I drove past him, an odd feeling settled into the pit of my stomach. This was the strangest auction I've ever attended. After another few minutes of driving, I could finally see the place we were heading to. It was gigantic. An entire estate, it's architecture seemed quite old, with a sprawling garden, plenty of forestation and even a round-a-bout driveway with a fountain in the middle. 

The classic rich-person mansion, except it was right before my very eyes. I was by no means poor, having a very high position in a successful non-human company gave me plenty of spending money after decades of work but this was something I could only dream about. The estate was lit up in the night, illuminating the pitch black that seemed to swallow everything else up. I could see plenty of people milling about in front of the main entrance, as well as a line to get in and park. 

It took us nearly ten minutes before I handed my car to the valet and was walking up the steps with Roland right next to me. The moment we entered, I was taken aback by how grand everything was. Vaulted ceilings, glorious chandeliers, intricate detailing in every piece of furniture, architecture and decoration. It seemed that Roland had been here before because he quickly guided us to a table set up against a wall. 

"Two blues, please," he said to the woman seated at the table.

"Ah, Mr. Palermo. Lovely to see you again."

Roland smiled before turning to look at me. 

"This is my colleague from work, Mr. Carlin. Thought I'd show him a good time."

The two shared a laugh while I silently stood by. The lady flashed me a dazzling smile, handing me a blue sticker. 

"Put it somewhere others can see it," she said, so I stuck it my suit lapel. 

She handed the same sticker to Roland and he put it on his jacket.

"What are these for?" I asked after we left.

"Identification. Don't you smell it?" Roland answered. 

"There's a mix of humans and others like us. They want to identify who's who without getting scents confused."

Now that he brought it up, it was true I smelled a mix of both human and non-human. I couldn't distinguish much else given the large crowds but still. So then if they needed to distinguish between the two groups, was this auction being run by someone who was also not human? How interesting. 

I hadn't been to many auctions that weren't hosted by humans and therefore unaware of the non-humans present. Roland then led us to another table lined with papers. When I leaned over to look at the papers, I noticed they had names on them that matched with pictures presented on the right of the names. 

"Oh, are these the artists?" I asked, glancing over them.

There were a lot of people and it made me kind of excited. This auction seemed like it'd be very long but it was a Friday and I didn't have anything to do tomorrow. Roland leaned over to look with me and laughed. 

"Yeah, kind of."

Before I could ask what he meant, he pointed to a picture. 

"Hey, he's pretty hot."

I gave him a questioning look. 

"I thought you were straight," I pointed out.

"I am," Roland agreed. 

"But he's still attractive. Is he not your type then? You never agreed."

I looked at who he was pointing to. I had to say that the guy was very attractive and very clearly non-human. Perhaps a shifter. I wasn't sure seeing as I didn't meet a lot but I thought some of them still carried animal characteristics into their humanoid appearances. 

Or perhaps I was mixing them up with other species that had an animal and humanoid form, like kitsunes or certain woodland Fae. Roland certainly didn't look like anything but a human, an annoying human, though but maybe that was just his particular species. 

Still observing the person, I glanced over at their name. Haruki. What a beautiful name. No last name is present, though. How odd. Maybe it was just an alias. I knew a lot of artists gave themselves aliases. 

"Yes, he's attractive. What does it matter? I'm here for his art, not to pick him up," I commented to answer Roland's question.

He went silent after that so I looked up. He had a secretive smile on his face that I wanted to question but he suddenly grabbed my arm. 

"Let's go find some seats. We've done enough looking."

"What? But what about their artwork? Is there a catalog somewhere to see that?" I asked as he guided us towards a set of double doors I hadn't noticed before.

"Kind of."

What was with his cryptic answers? I was getting extremely annoyed with them. If I really wanted to, I could've pulled away and figured it out on my own but Roland seemed to be knowledgeable about this particular auction host, so I decided to let it slide and follow him. He led us into the room behind the double doors and I was shocked to see that it was an entire theater. 

A large stage was below us, we'd entered from the upper entrance apparently, with rows of seats and even a few private booths. I noticed that a lot more people were slowly entering the theater, so I figured the auction must be starting soon. Roland led us down a bunch of stairs to the front-facing section of the theater, with our seats in the middle of the section directly facing the stage. 

It was the perfect height for us to get a good look at the stage and also the giant screen being lowered so people without a good view could still look. Oddly enough, I felt something prickle at the back of my neck, as if someone was staring at me, but I ignored it. It was probably because I was still on edge. 

[reids-rendering-reality]

Blind Date

Summary: Derek Morgan sets up two of his friends for a blind date. They have never heard of each other or seen each other. But something tells Derek’s intuition they would get along well.

Type: fluff

Warnings: talking about serial killers

Word Count: 1.9K

Spencer Reid’s POV

I walked into work on a regular Tuesday morning, coffee in hand, a book tucked under my arm and my bag draped over my shoulder. I wasn’t expecting anything at all, being the first to walk in as per usual. Following my typical routine for paperwork day I sat down at my desk and went through file after file on that big pile in front of me. After about 30 minutes the others walked in. Still, everything appeared completely normal. So normal in fact, that it was almost suspicious.

“Hey, pretty boy,“ Derek said loudly as he walked directly towards me, without even stopping at his desk first, “I have an idea that you’re not going to like at first, but you’ll agree to anyway.“

“If I’m not going to like it, why would I agree to it?“ I asked curiously and looked up at him as he came to a halt right in front of my desk.

“Because I am asking you to and you will thank me later. Now hear me out please.“

“Alright,“ I responded, shifting in my seat towards him and pushing my glasses up a little.

“So, you know how the other day you said that you never go out on dates?” He obviously noticed my face flush as my eyes darted around the room to check if someone else was listening, “I was thinking, how about I play the wingman to help you get a date?”

“You want to play the what?” I asked confused and shocked simultaneously.

“Forget it,” he said hastily, “what I’m trying to say is, I set you up for a date.”

“You did what?” I could hear my voice getting louder the more shocked Derek made me. Again looking around, I noticed Emily exiting the elevator.

“A friend of mine – a female friend, who is also single – recently complained to me how she always dates the bad guys and how she just wishes for a good guy to come along and sweep her off her feet. So I set up a blind date for you guys. Listen, Spencer, I know this is uncomfortable for you, but it’ll be fun. Just agree to it and see what happens. You can become friends with her or never speak to her again afterward. But just give it a shot, maybe you’ll even get lucky,” Derek grinned at me.

I thought about it for a moment. Why was I even considering it? This is a crazy idea! She probably wouldn’t like me anyway and I would just embarrass myself for a few hours before going home and reading the book just as I had planned. But the way Derek was looking at me like he would never let me say now, and just that little sliver of something similar to hope made me nod my head slowly and uncertainly.

“Great! Wait – it was that easy to convince you?” Derek asked, a little shocked.

“It was this easy to convince him to do what?” Emily, who now reached us, interjected.

I went to yell a quick “nothing” before the situation got out of hand, but Derek was faster and began explaining the scenario.

“And he agreed to a blind date? Looks like our genius isn’t that much of a recluse after all,” Emily mused as she walked away towards her desk.

---

Y/N’s POV

To say I was nervous was an understatement. I hadn’t been on a proper date in like forever plus 2. But I promised Derek I wouldn’t bail on him and go to the restaurant anyways.

So here I was, entering a beautiful Vietnamese restaurant that Derek picked out 5 minutes before 8 pm on a Friday. To ensure the blind-dateness of it all, the table was reserved in Derek’s name. And he picked the perfect spot. In the back corner, a little bit further from everyone else, but with a view out the window into Washington D.C’s buzzing nightlife.

The waitress led me to the table, which was not yet occupied. I sat down against the wall to make sure I would see whoever came in. Taking off my coat to reveal my satin dress underneath I shivered lightly at the lack of warmth. Maybe it was the nerves too. Taking a deep breath and looking out the window into the night, I tried to force myself to calm down. I did not want to make a bad impression on one of Derek’s friends. If he was one of his friends? I knew nothing about this man. Just that it was one. A man.

Just as I began getting lost in my thoughts of who would be my dining partner, I noticed footsteps approaching me. My clock read 7:58. At least he’s very punctual. Looking up towards the body the feet belonged to, my heart began beating faster.

In front of me was a tall, handsome man with longish hair, dressed in a fine black suit and a deep crimson shirt. He looked shy, his eyes wide open and his lips slightly parted. He turned to thank the waitress and I examined his portrait. Ugh, he was definitely attractive. I thanked Derek in my thoughts for knowing my type and giving this man a head start.

“Can I sit here?” his voice was quiet as if he were as uncertain as I was. I nodded and smiled slightly, to calm both his nerves and mine. He sat down and for the first time our eyes properly met. And for a second we just stared.

I was the first to look away, my nervousness taking over, “um- I’m Y/N”.

“Hi, I’m Spencer,” he said more confidently now.

After exchanging the expected small talk about how we both knew Derek and what we did for a living, we ordered our food. This is the moment I feared. Chitter chatter out of the way, waiting for the food. What if there was nothing to talk about now?

“You’re studying medicine?” he asked to draw my attention and I nodded, “how are you enjoying it?”

And boy, he should not have asked that. With my heart racing in my chest, so were my words. I began a ramble on how I always wanted to study it and what excited me the most. When I realised how much I was talking I abruptly stopped with an awkward, “so yes. I am enjoying it.”

He grinned slightly, which eased some of my nervousness. I smiled back at him slightly.

“I’ve been meaning to say, you look beautiful tonight,” he said and for the first time that evening, he sounded confident. I guess my ramble eased his nerves too. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I quietly thanked him.

Right then, the waiter came and brought our food. We ate in silence for a little while, but it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it was serene. We looked at each other occasionally, appreciating the other’s presence.

After a while, Spencer spoke up, “did you know that the reason why Vietnamese food is so healthy is partly because they don’t use that much oil? And of course also because the food contains so many vitamins, like C, B1, B6, and B3, but also many trace elements, for example, zinc, copper, magnesium, and potassium.”

I looked up at him as he started talking and nodded attentively, “no. I did not know that. But now I feel encouraged to eat Vietnamese more often.”

 We finished our dinner with pleasant conversation, Spencer interjecting a few interesting facts here and there. I quickly realised he must be incredibly intelligent, which made me even more attracted to him. But I must admit, I was pretty proud when I knew some of his facts and could even add to them with my knowledge. For example when we got to the topic of serial killers (which of course was unavoidable given his job):

“So one gene that could make a person psychopathic is the gene coding for monoamine oxidase A. If you have one version of it, the protein becomes ineffective and can’t break down your brain’s monoamines like serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. One study on a family in Holland found that they all had a version of it where the protein was completely ineffective. And they had unusually high levels of aggression and violence in that family,” Spencer said. His speed was almost hard to keep up with, but me hanging onto every word he said helped.

“I know! But the gene alone doesn’t suffice to make someone more aggressive. A study found that which gene version you have interacts with your environment during childhood. In maltreated children the effect on aggression can be seen way stronger than in children with a normal childhood,” I responded excitedly, leaning forward onto the table.

But Spencer didn’t respond. Instead, he froze, his lips parting as his jaw dropped a little. He stared at me with an emotion that appeared to me like shock mixed with fascination – and maybe awe? I didn’t know what to do so I just looked back at him shyly, feeling a blush creeping onto my cheeks.

 That night, Spencer drove me home, like a gentleman. When we arrived at my apartment, he got out of the car and walked me to the door.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” I said softly looking up at him.

“Me too,” he smiled, and then a sudden wave of nervousness washed over him, “would you maybe – I don’t know – want to… do this again some time? Only if you want to of course.”

A smile spread onto my lips as well, “I’d love to.”

---

Spencer’s POV

The Monday following my dinner with Y/N, I walked into the office with a slight bounce in my step. I was still ecstatic over how well it went, and that I even had a chance with her. We had texted all weekend, about anything and everything.

“Hey Reid, come over here,” Derek shouted at me from his desk.

My face instantly flushed as I realised I would now have to spill all the details to him.

“How did the date with Y/N go?” he asked curiously. I could feel the eyes of Emily and JJ on the back of my neck from Emily’s desk.

“Um- it went well, I guess,” I said, shuffling my feet around awkwardly.

“It went well? Come on, Spence, give us more details!” JJ said as the two of them came to join me and Derek as well.

“Yeah, I mean we talked a lot and she enjoyed my fun facts. We will go on a second date soon, we even texted all weekend,” I stuttered, not meeting any of them in the eye.

“See? What did I tell you, Reid? You would not regret this,” Derek told me and then turned to the girls, “am I one hell of a matchmaker or not?”

They giggled slightly as my hands reached up to feel my burning skin.

“I knew she would be your type, just like you’re exactly hers. Enjoy it, kid, she’s a keeper for sure,” Derek said while patting my shoulder as he left for the coffee machine.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagine

[hatterstan-shameblog]

The One With The Room Reassignment

Aguni needs a new room. For, well, reasons. Embarrassing reasons. Reasons that he’s trying not to disclose to anyone, least of all Takeru, who...well, you know how he is.

But it’ll all be okay.

Right?

(Because I simply could not have read this post by @missdrake without writing the Aguni prompt. I mean, come on, the opportunity for banter was just too good!)

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Rating: ‼️18+‼️ Do Not Interact If You Are Underage

Warnings: descriptions of sexual situations, referenced drug use, alcohol, threats of violence

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Of all the places Aguni could be right now, this has to be one of the worst.

It’s not that he dislikes Takeru’s room, per se. On the contrary, he actually enjoys the subtle opulence of the space, spelled out in caramel-colored woods and blue-green drapes.

It’s fancy, yes, but approachable. Comfortable, even.

But, in this moment, Aguni feels anything but comfortable. He feels antsy, he feels jumpy—he feels the angry little teeth of embarrassment nibbling at the ends of his nerves, and its making his palms sweat.

Are the lights in here extra hot, or is that just him?

...It’s probably just him.

It doesn’t help that Takeru is staring at him, those deep-dark eyes filled with their usual mix of subtle scrutiny mixed with glittering amusement and finished off with a dash of smug confidence—like a flourish of whipped cream atop a hot fudge sundae, if the whipped cream had the uncanny ability to see into a person’s soul and the hot fudge sundae was a lovable bastard whose modus operandi involved creating as much drama as possible.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Takeru says—and he is so very feline, stretched into a graceful sprawl along the black leather sofa, his lips curled into a serene, sleepy smile around the lip of a champagne flute.

Aguni doesn’t even like champagne, but he’s been taking small, nervous sips from his own glass all the same because that is infinitely more manageable than talking. Except, well...because he’s not talking, the situation is getting more and more awkward by the minute.

“Didn’t expect you to be alone.”

“I’ve decided to take the night off,” Takeru says, rolling his shoulders back in a slow stretch of spine, “The games, the meetings, the endless parade of unfortunates looking for guidance and reassurance? It wears on you, Mori-chan.”

As if to illustrate the point, Takeru heaves a dramatic sigh.

“There’s something wearing on you, too, isn’t there? You look...pained?”

“I, uh,” Aguni swallows nervously. This is the part he’s been dreading for the last hour, and now that it’s here...well. All he has to do is stick to the plan and everything will be okay.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“I...” Aguni gulps, “need a new room.”

Although his delivery leaves something to be desired in the “calm and collected” department, Aguni is quite pleased with himself for having managing to get the words out without blushing.

...Okay, he’s probably blushing a little bit, but Takeru hasn’t teased him about it yet, so it can’t be that bad.

“Oh? Why?”

Aguni’s jaw tightens. The problem with Takeru (one of the many, if he’s being honest) is that the man can be particularly difficult to read. Even after thirty-plus years of friendship, Aguni can’t tell what he’s thinking half of the time, which has left him in quite a few...situations. Difficult situations. Confusing situations. Awkward situations.

Situations like these, where Aguni’s brain is spinning like a high-powered carousel on a pottery wheel inside of a giant blender and someone keeps pressing the ‘pulse’ button with a giant hammer and it’s all very loud and very unpleasant.

“The bed,” he answers slowly, “uh, the bed is...broken.”

“Broken?”

Aguni takes another gulp of alcohol—too much for one swallow, and his throat spasms around the popping fizz of carbonation. He coughs slightly.

“Yes,” Aguni clarifies, “Broken.”

Takeru rolls his eyes.

“Always the brilliant conversationalist,” Takeru says, dripping with sarcasm and waving his champagne with a dismissive gesture, “We’ve established that the bed is broken, but you’ve failed to mention how it is broken, and since I do not know the extend of the breakage, I am unable to determine if you do, in fact, need to be moved to a different room. Space is limited, Mori-chan. I can’t afford to be frivolous about such things.”

Had he not been so focused on maintaining some semblance of composure, Aguni might have teased his friend for lecturing him about frivolity—but now is not the time for chit-chat. He is a man on a mission, and the success of said mission is dependent on his ability to, as they say, ‘get in and get out.’

“The frame. It, uh...snapped off of the headboard,”Aguni answers carefully, “It’s...I can’t sleep on it.”

Takeru’s eyes narrow.

“Ah. I see.”

Silence settles between them once more—only for a moment, but it’s enough to make Aguni shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“I can fix it,” Aguni adds, “I just...need a place to stay tonight.”

There is a flash of silver—Takeru is one of the only people Aguni knows under the age of sixty who uses a cigarette case, which is both charming and frequently inconvenient— and it’s only a second before the scent of smoke and nicotine fills the air.

“I suppose that’s reasonable,” he concludes—and it’s a weight off of Aguni’s mind and heart that Takeru hasn’t decided to ask him a million questions regarding the “why’s” and “how’s” of his current predicament.

Perhaps there’s a chance he can make it out of here (relatively) unscathed.

So, when Takeru offers Aguni a drag on his cigarette, Aguni doesn’t much read into the gesture and gladly accepts.

“Hm,” Takeru says.

“What?”

“That is...so interesting.”

Aguni hands the cigarette back to his friend.

“Not sure what you mean.”

“I’m just reminiscing, I suppose,” Takeru says airily, “about the last time we shared a cigarette. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Something blooms in Aguni—something bad and uncertain.

“I don’t—“

“Oh, it’s been years. Three, actually. And a half. Tell me, Mori-chan,” Takeru furrows his brow, “can you remember where we were three-and-a-half years ago?”

Remember the ‘something’ that bloomed inside Aguni just a moment ago? Well, it has a name, and that name is ‘intense discomfort.’ He knows where this is going. He knows he’s powerless to stop it.

“Don’t worry, my dear friend—I remember,” he says, closing his eyes and smiling to himself, “Halloween. Osaka. 2018. I was Freddie Mercury. You were Elton John. It took me ages to get all those sequins sewn on...”

Takeru takes one final hit from the cigarette before stubbing it out into a (decidedly lovely) teacup that happened to be conveniently placed on the coffee table in front of him.

“Isn’t that the year you threw the statue of Colonel Sanders into the river?”

Takeru sneers.

“You mean the year I threw Colonel Sanders into the river alone because...somebody ran off with the mascot from that mediocre takoyaki stand,” he snips, “and then had the audacity to show up two hours later asking for a cigarette. Do you know why you asked for a cigarette, Mori-chan?”

“Oh no.”

“It’s because you didn’t have any on you. Because you don’t usually smoke. Unless,” and Takeru positively relishes his dramatic pause, “it’s after sex.”

Aguni doesn’t say anything.

“You thought you could come into my house,” Takeru shouts, “after having mind-blowing, soul-shattering sex—the kind of sex that snaps bed frames clean in half—and I wouldn’t know about it?”

“But how did you—?”

“I heard you,” Takeru spits, “howling like...like some kind of demonic wolf in the light of a full moon!”

“I couldn’t have been that loud...”

“Loud enough to hear from down the hall,” Takeru adds, “frankly, I’m impressed. And a little jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Of your lover. Nobody’s broken a bed fucking me lately, which is a goddamn shame,” Takeru sips from his glass, “Don’t suppose you’ll tell me who it was, hm?”

“No,” Aguni snaps, perhaps a bit too quickly, “making fun of me is one thing, but I won’t you have you making fun of my...uh, my...”

“Paramour?”

“...Sure,” Aguni says, “Look, the point is, it’s important that I—“

“Yes, yes, you’re about to lecture me about ‘privacy’ and ‘boundaries’ and all the things decent people like you are oh-so-interested in preserving,” Takeru says, rolling his eyes, “Believe it or not, I am capable of discretion.”

“You are?”

“When the situation calls for it,” Takeru muses, “or if it’s simply more fun to keep my mouth shut and watch the drama unfold. You having a secret lover ticks both boxes.”

Takeru jumps up from his seat and claps his hands together.

“So! I have decided,” he announces with great panache, “that I shall, in fact, give you a new room. A nice one, too. Maybe even nicer than the one you’re in currently.”

Aguni huffs a relieved breath.

“Thank you.”

“But!” Takeru flops down on the couch next to Aguni with all the grace of a fleshly-flipped pancake, “You have to do something for me.”

“I don’t—“

“You have to answer three,” and Takeru holds up three fingers in front of Aguni’s face, “of my questions. Truthfully. No skips, no take-backs.”

This is...well. This is not ideal.

Aguni considers his options. On one hand, he’s entirely justified in slapping Takeru across the face and shouting ‘absolutely not!’—and, honestly, Takeru would probably understand because, while he is an asshole, he is a self-aware asshole.

On the other hand, it’s only three questions. Maybe, if he’s able to keep Takeru on topic (a Herculean effort to be sure), Aguni can make quick work of getting a new room and, more importantly, getting the hell out of here.

“Fine,” he mumbles, “but make it quick. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Takeru says, “nothing wears you out quite like an evening of dirty, nasty, animalistic—“

“Takeru!”

“—Depraved, disgusting fucking,” and he makes a very disgusted ugh-ing sound when he notices Aguni shooting him a pointed glare, “Fine. Lovemaking. Whatever. The point is that you got it in real good and that’s enough to make anyone tired.”

“Dealing with you is making me tired. Please, just...ask your questions so I can get a room and go to bed.”

“Fine, fine,” Takeru says, and he makes a great show of thinking the matter over, mouth puckering into a pouty little frown before snapping into a mischievous smirk, “Question one: did you shower before coming here?”

Aguni sighs and looks down at his shoes.

“No.”

“Oh, that is gross,” Takeru shouts, clapping him on the back, “I’m so proud of you!”

Aguni rolls his eyes, trying his hardest to look unaffected by his friend’s prying. But he can’t hide the blush from blooming on his face, because this is all very mortifying and he doesn’t particularly enjoy the way Takeru is looking at him with a devious little smile.

“It’s like looking in a mirror,” Takeru says, running a hand through his hair, “a less-handsome—but taller—mirror!”

“Got a good two inches on you,” Aguni says, and he relishes the way his companion winces. Although he is not a short man by any means, Takeru has always been just a bit shorter than him—which has led to quite a few jabs over the years.

“Maybe in height,” Takeru quips, “but certainly not everywhere else, hm?”

It’s odd, but somehow, Aguni has not yet gotten used to feeling his soul leave his body. He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s dying inside, letting the pain shine out directly from his face and hopes it slaps Takeru across the mouth so he doesn’t have to.

“I couldn’t resist,” Takeru says between chuckles, “You know how I am!”

“Unfortunately.”

But Takeru is too busy staring at him now to give one of his classically witty retorts. To the untrained eye, it would appear that he is carefully considering something. Because Aguni knows that the words ‘careful’ and ‘consideration’ are not part of Takeru’s vocabulary, he steels himself for whatever batshit-insane bullshit is going to come flying at him next.

“Now, I know the identity of your new squeeze is off-limits. Which I am sympathetic towards, because I am a sensitive and caring man—which, by the way, is something you should mention to any and all available singles you should happen upon throughout your travels...”

There’s just something about the way Takeru talks—and talks, and talks—that sets Aguni’s blood to boil.

“You know why it took me three years to get laid? Because you,” Aguni snaps, “wouldn’t stop fucking talking long enough for me to get away and meet someone.”

“Ooh, so bitchy! Seems like you could use a little more of whatever you just had,” Takeru runs a finger along the rim of his glass, smiling to himself when the friction creates a high-pitched hum, “if that’s a possibility, of course.”

Aguni feels a headache coming on. He runs at his temples in a (futile) attempt to stave it off.

“I don’t have time for your games, Takeru. If you want to ask me if this was a one-night stand, then ask me if it was a one-night stand.”

“Fine, then. Mori-chan,” Takeru places his glass on the table and turns to face Aguni. He pulls his legs up and hugs his shins close to himself, chin resting on his knobby knees—like a high school girl at a sleepover, “Did you give that mystery individual the fuck of a lifetime because you knew it was going to be a one-time thing...or because this is the start of something more?”

“I...” Aguni pauses, “I don’t know.”

Takeru’s brow furrows.

“Don’t look at me like that! I was, uh,” Aguni rubs the back of his neck uncertainly, “I thought we’d maybe have that conversation when I got back.”

Takeru tilts his head slightly to the left.

“Got back from where?”

“Here.”

“Mori-chan. Darling. Dearest,” Takeru places a hand on his shoulder, fingers gripping into the skin a little more with each passing moment, “do you mean to tell me that you...left your lover alone on a broken bed...to come talk to me?”

“No,” Aguni answers, “Left ‘em in the bath.”

“Oh my God...”

“What? I thought it was a nice gesture.”

“You are so cute and hopeless.”

Takeru scoots close enough to Aguni that their hips are touching, the arm that had been gripping his shoulder now slung around his mid-back.

“Picture it,” he says, reaching his other arm out in front of them as if grasping at a ghost of a dream, “your paramour—whoever they may be—sitting alone in a bathtub. Naked. Glistening.”

“...Glistening?”

“Sparkling, even.”

That is...oh dear. Aguni hadn’t thought of it like that. And now he can’t stop thinking about it. His mind’s eye is conjuring up a most hypnotic display, involving skin and steam and a crystalline droplets rolling down the length of a neck and—

“I put bubbles in,” he admits, voice soft and unfocused as he drifts in his daydream, “Lavender-scented.”

“That’s. Wow,” Takeru sighs, patting Aguni’s knee, “You’re a stronger man than I am, that’s for sure. I simply wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. I mean, you could be in there right now, but...you’re here with me instead.”

Something breaks in Aguni. Something he hadn’t been aware of before now, but was apparently a very important piece of whatever was keeping him from grabbing Takeru by the lapels and shaking him with all the strength and rage that has been building up for the past twenty minutes.

Because that’s what he’s doing right now. He’s grabbing Takeru by the lapels of his weird robe thing and shaking him within an inch of his life. He’s also yelling, something like ‘give me the goddamn room’ but it’s hard to hear over the deafening rush of blood in his ears.

“Not...the...silk,” Takeru begs—well, as much as a man being maliciously jostled can beg—while his hands attempt to loosen Aguni’s own from his outfit, “She didn’t...do anything...wrong!”

Aguni stops shaking him, but not because he wants to—no, he very much wants to continue shaking this annoying man until his head snaps off and flies out the window—but because Takeru has started to take on a bit of a sickly greenish tinge and Aguni is not in the mood to deal with that on top of everything else.

“I will tear that tacky thing to shreds if you don’t give me a new room,” he seethes, releasing his grip on Takeru altogether and enjoying the way the other man falls back slightly as he’s let go, “I snapped a fucking bed frame an hour ago; I could tear that and you in half without even trying.”

“Okay, but,” and Takeru winces, “I just...there’s a bit of a problem. Not...a ‘problem’ problem, but...I’m very worried about how you’ll react after that little outburst you just had.”

Great. Of course there’s a catch. There’s always a catch with Takeru—but Aguni had been naive enough to think that his frustrating questionnaire had been it.

“There’s only one room available,” Takeru continues, as if he’s trying to calm a very angry horse or convince a toddler to do literally anything, “and it’s...well, it’s...the one next door.”

“You mean,” Aguni says very flatly, “the room next to this one?”

“Yes.”

“With the adjoining door?”

“Hit me if you want,” Takeru says, pressing himself against the arm of the couch and, therefore, as far away from Aguni’s anger as possible, “just...please don’t shake me again. My delicate constitution couldn’t possible take it.”

Aguni is reminded of a poem—the Robert Frost one about two roads in a wood or something like that. The way he figures, he’s got two roads in front of him right now: the ‘scream at Takeru and maybe shake him a little more and also refuse the room’ road versus the ‘it’s only one night and things couldn’t possibly get worse than they already are so take the room and maybe try to salvage the evening’ road.

Both are tempting.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said it was nicer than your current room. Good view, spacious, well-decorated,” he says, “Except for the credenza under the TV, that’s hideous. Wouldn’t be mad if you, y’know, decided to break that in the heat of the moment...”

Aguni must look positively murderous, because Takeru immediately switches into grovel mode, which includes various assorted platitudes and exclamations of ‘it was just a joke!’ and ‘please don’t kill me!’

It’s kind of funny, actually.

“Listen,” Takeru half-pleads, “I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m over here. Hell, if I smoke enough weed, I won’t know I’m here, which will work out just great! I slip into a light coma, you slip into a comfortable bed with your sweetheart, and everybody’s happy.”

“You just want an excuse to get high.”

“No,” he answers confidently, “I want you to be happy and I want to get high. Use my mind-altering substances for good, not evil. You know, like a superhero. Or maybe even Jesus.”

Aguni decides not to bring Takeru’s half-joking-but-not-really God-complex into question, because that would launch him into an hour-long tirade about the importance of self-love and how he would be an excellent choice for the next mayor of Tokyo. And maybe he wouldn’t be the worst mayor Tokyo has ever had, but...well. He might not be very good at it, either.

And maybe it’s because he’s incapable of staying too horribly angry at his best friend for very long, but Aguni concludes that it’s best just to take the room and let the situation go. He’s had enough drama for one night.

“Fine,” Aguni finally says, “I’ll take it.”

And he moves to stand before Takeru can suck him in to another conversation.

“You know,” Takeru calls casually as Aguni begins to walk towards the door, “I still haven’t asked my third question...”

“You have got to be kidding—“

“But,” Takeru quickly interjects, “I don’t have to ask, because I already know that the answer is ‘yes.’”

“Hm?”

“Yes,” Takeru concludes with a wry smile, “you are happy. Even when you were about to about to slap me, I could see it written all over your face.”

Aguni feels...embarrassed. Again. He’s truly been on an emotional rollercoaster since stepping foot into Takeru’s room, and it’s almost poetic that he has managed to start and end his journey with a begrudging blush.

“Now, go,” Takeru says, shooing him off with a roll of his wrist, “get out of my sight and into bed with that sexy little secret you insist upon hiding from the rest of us!”

Aguni doesn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly makes his way towards the exit, his legs taking slightly-larger-than-normal strides as he attempts not to appear too giddy at the thought of returning to his lover. Maybe they can test out the bathtub in the new room. Or the shower. Or maybe just hang out in bathrobes and talk?

Honestly, he’s just excited to see them again. A nice, soothing presence. Something to help him decompress after...whatever the hell that just was with Takeru. There’s a seventy-five-percent chance that he’ll stay true to his word and be stoned out of his mind by the time they switch rooms, and a twenty-percent chance that he’ll spend the night pressed up against the door trying to listen in. The other five percent? That’s what Aguni likes to call the ‘wild card allotment’ because Takeru is...well, he’s just the kind of guy to do something completely unpredictable, and he likes to plan for that.

“Remember,” Takeru calls out just as Aguni is stepping out, “Break the credenza!”

And Aguni has never been happier to shut a door in his life.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

PS: the thing with throwing the statue of Colonel Sanders in the river is a thing that actually happened and I think it’s really funny so that’s why I put it in here. Plus, like. Takeru totally would.

#alice in borderland #danma takeru #hatter #spicy boy #alice in borderland netflix #aguni morizono #writings and such #this took so long omg but it’s DONE wow what a time what an adventure #listen. I just. we need more of them being actual buddies. #like. just guys being dudes.

[ihatetaxes99]

A Brief Retrospective Look At MVA (In The Anime)

Well. Here we are. Every end of the time is another begun. After what has felt like years of anticipation (mostly because it actually has been years), My Villain Academia has been fully animated. Well, "fully" may be the wrong word here, but that's something I'll get into later.

To honour the end of the arc, I decided to do two things: One, I re-read the entirety of the arc in the manga all in one sitting; Two, I rewatched all five episodes of the anime's adaptation back to back once again. My life is pain and I know not of sleep. Anyway, the reason I did this is because of a little project I proposed to myself back just before the first episode aired; Once MVA was done and dusted, I would go back and give my own retrospective on the whole thing. Because why the hell not, sounds like fun. This will also hopefully be less emotional than my thoughts I shared as the episodes were still airing, but who knows?

So, let's begin. And I wish to start by stating that My Villain Academia is my absolute favourite arc in the manga. It did a lot of things right. It focused entirely on my favourite faction, the villains. It offers a glimpse into their lives and goes a long way in humanising them, particularly Spinner and Shigaraki. It sets up key points for others too, such as Mr. Compress' habit of thinking more about the bigger picture than the others, which would factor into his major reveal during the Paranormal Liberation War and of course the formation of the Front itself. It introduced us to Rikiya Yotsubashi, one of my favourite characters in the manga, even if he honestly peaked in this arc and was never as good again. And it gave us a large-scale, grueling fight for supremacy in which I found myself actively rooting for the League. It is, in my mind, the very best of BNHA, the only arc I would want them to do well in the anime. They could screw up literally everything else and I would be happy if MVA was even just as good as the manga, it didn't even need to be better. I would have been delighted to have an excuse to experience the arc all over again, seeing my favourite moments with the sublime soundtrack and voice acting.

Yeah… 

But before I get to that, let us take a little trip of sorts down memory lane to see the road to MVA, what led to it. So, 2021 rolls around. What a fun year. It's just 2020 without the excitement of everything being so uncertain, and frankly it's been really fucking boring as a year. However, BNHA Season Five was announced. In February, we get the first trailer for the upcoming season. It's... It's fine. Obviously, it focuses heavily on the Joint Training Arc (in fact, that is all it shows) and although I despise that arc with a passion, it's not too bad. I had not watched the anime since Overhaul ended, so my plan was I just wouldn't watch JTA and would wait until the big attraction, MVA. And so, Joint Training starts. And it goes on. And on. And on. I checked back almost two months later to discover it still wasn't over yet. Now I found this odd. Joint Training Arc was horrible for many reasons, but the big one was that it dragged on for so long as a result of Horikoshi's health complications, which is by no means his fault. But, surely the anime, which would consistently release on a weekly basis, wouldn't have the issues associated with this. Episodes of BNHA have always encompassed around three to five chapters, and Joint Training's were shorter than usual, so why was it taking more than ten episodes to adapt it? 

Very strange, but I didn't question it much. Then, the key visuals released, confirming that MVA was at the very least happening. Great, wonderful. I love it. We've got the whole gang there, seeming like they're in Deika, looks pretty good.

Wait, did I say whole gang? Yeah, my bad, there was someone missing. Spinner. Now, I am not the biggest Spinner fan so I wasn't prepared to riot over his exclusion like I would have been if Compress wasn't in it. But this was starting to get strange. Spinner was the main narrator of MVA. Even if his importance was not on the level of Shigaraki, Twice and Toga, it was certainly more than Dabi and Compress, who did both appear in the art. Why was he excluded? Obviously, I bet you're all having a good old chuckle to yourselves right now because in retrospect, this makes perfect sense now.

Alright, then. I heard from a friend around June time that Joint Training was finally over. Awesome, great, time for the good stuff- why is there a Christmas episode here?

Yes, this was probably what really started to get the alarm bells in my mind going. The Christmas episode- in June. Very, very strange. Also, absolutely no mention of Rikiya, which even if they were reshuffling things, I would have expected him to appear in the episode of Bakugo and Todoroki getting their licenses, since it directly ties in. Concern levels rising, I shrugged it off and waited for next week.

Bam. Major reshuffling. Now, Endeavour Agency comes first, fuck you if you want context for who the hell the PLF are or the significance of Destro's memoirs. This was really starting to worry me now. I told myself that the key visual meant that MVA had to be happening, but it was starting to seem like the villains were being shafted. A fact not helped by the new OP.

Look, I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain or whine, but season five's second OP is just bad. The music is fine, I have no problem there. But the visuals are just awful. Not only is there an extended focus on that stupid bloody trio of Midoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki, not only is there more screentime given to characters who don't appear in MVA or EA than the main cast of the former, but the animation itself is just so stiff and lacking. It had potential, but the visuals are the worst out of any recent anime opening I've seen in a good few years and this was what got me really panicking.

Boom, a beach episode smack in the middle of Endeavour Agency to promote the upcoming movie. Boom, adapting two chapters per episode during EA. Boom, the Shirakumo episode, which I always thought was part of the War Arc and not EA. But finally, mercifully, the title leaks came and it was revealed that episode 20 of season five would be the start of MVA.

20. Out of 25. And it was pretty obvious that they weren't going to end the season with MVA, so really, up to 24. Ohhh no…

But hey, I'm an optimist sometimes. I was excited to just finally be clear of all this nonsense and get to the real good stuff. Hell, in preparation, I watched the entirety of the season up to that point. I finally realised why JTA took so long and it's one of the most depressing things I've ever learned, in a bad way. Were all those flashbacks really necessary? EA was okay, as someone who as a manga reader, already had the necessary context for the PLF stuff. The beach episode, I watched half of, got too bored and skipped the rest of. And you know what, I liked the Shirakumo chapters. They weren't as good in the anime, but it was nice to see.

And then, finally, in comes episode one of My Villain Academia, on a cold, dark August morning. I even bought Crunchyroll Premium to watch it as soon as possible, I was excited. All the messing around, all the crap, it was finally over and the time had come to enjoy what this season was really all about.

I can now safely say why Bones kept pushing back MVA, because if I was them, I would be embarrassed to show this.

No, that's not fair. I promised I wouldn't get too snarky, so let's reek things back in. As a whole, MVA has been… fine. Just fine. Not good enough to justify the bullshit, but not horrendous (mostly.) In fact, right now, I'll give a ranking of the episodes, my worst to best:

5) Episode One 

4) Episode Two

3) Episode Three

2) Episode Five

1) Episode Four

Yeah. So, there's a clear pattern here, that things more or less got better as time went on. From just straight up bad, to still not great, to alright, to the final two episodes being what I would comfortably call good. This is not a good look. I'm sorry, but Episode One, an episode that I just called bad, is still one of the season's best in spite of that. That spells out awful things for this season as a whole. But what exactly made this such a disaster?

Well, cut content is the big thing. MVA in the anime cuts out:

The League's battle with the CRC

Their struggle with poverty

The sushi joke setup

All of Spinner's character

All of Rikiya's character, including most mentions of Detnerat and Miyashita

Fairly integral pieces of Skeptic's character

Most of Giran's integrity and bravery

This doesn't look too bad at first. It could be far worse. We got basically everything else from the arc, so what? Well, I would already be annoyed about all of these cuts, but the issue is that they cause a knock on effect. Without the establishment of the League's poverty, the payoff of Toga's duffle coat now makes no sense. Without the setup of Spinner's characterisation, his battle with Hanabata now feels hollow. Rikiya's surrender to the League now makes even less sense, as his love of human life and desire to cause no more death is completely non-existent. The first time Rikiya being a CEO is mentioned is in the closing minutes of the arc. The sushi scene is hamfisted into a two second flashback just so that the payoff makes some sort of sense, but again, it is hollow without it being at the start (this is also the first mention of the League's poverty and it literally happens just as they are freed from it.) Can you see how these little seemingly unimportant cuts spiral into bigger problems? I would have been pissed even if they hadn't caused some tremendous cascades, but the fact that they did just makes this from a subjective issue to an objective one.

Yes. They did some things well. Toga's backstory is mostly intact, SMP is just as satisfying as the manga, Tenko's backstory is one of the best things the anime has ever done, the awakening is very well done, I adore the PLF formation as much as I did in the manga. Everything important is intact, but as I keep saying, you cannot just keep the bare minimum and expect it to work. How about in the next arc, they decide to cut everything involving Bakugo out, and only keep him jumping in front of Midoriya because it's the only absolutely necessary thing he does in the arc? People would be pissed, and it's the same thing that's happening here. It's a problem, it's not just a bad adaptation, it leads to bad storytelling in general.

The animation. Now, I do not believe this is a be all, end all. BNHA's anime is never going to look as gorgeous as Horikoshi's art, that is a fact and I do not begrudge them for that. They have a week to draw hundreds upon hundreds of frames, it's not a process that lends itself well to good looks and the animators and artists do their best with what they have. This does not change the fact that it is extremely hit or miss. Some things, Tenko's backstory in particular, look fantastic. Other things, mostly every action scene, make me laugh at how bad they can look and some things, particularly Twice and Re-Destro's hideous designs in the anime, make me cringe. The lighting is also an issue. Garaki's lab looked fantastic, but every other scene is just boring mid-afternoon with dull, basic lighting. I don't expect huge detail, but sometimes, it fails to achieve competency and as an extremely popular show, I don't think that's okay. I don't blame the animators, I blame the higher ups. And while I wouldn't mind the poor animation and art in an MVA that at least has all the story content, this does not have that and so I am even harsher than I would have been.

MVA was rushed. That's not up for debate. It took forever to get to it and once it came, things moved so quickly that they gave me whiplash, with no time to think or lament. Now, this could be attributed to the story structure of the arc, which is essentially a series of big fights, and it just isn't as bad in the manga because I can stop at any time to catch my breath. But I think it's worth noting that the anime at least highlights these issues. Curious dies in the same episode where she first appears, really driving home how pointless she was in the end. Episode Two alone tries to cover everything from the journey to Deika up until Jin finding Toga's body. That's a lot of content to fit in one twenty minute period and it was bound to feel messy in the end. I will say that, much like everything aside from the animation, this did get better as time went on, with episodes three, four and five adapting more reasonable amounts of content, compared to one giving us almost nothing and two giving us too much.

At the end of the day, that was it. The show's over. MVA has been closed in the anime. It will never be given a chance to improve, to go from just fine to anything even close to the manga. Why did this happen? I don't think we'll ever truly know. Some blame the new movie, others the studio's lack of faith in the villains, and there are those who say that it's just how fate turned out. I personally think it's a combination of all of these things. Without the movie, that beach episode wouldn't exist, giving more time to MVA, without the studio's hesitation, we'd perhaps get stuff like an actual good OP and perhaps some more general hype for it (I mean, MVA didn't even get a trailer.) Whatever the reason is, we got what we got. My verdict is something that's very overplayed as of late, but seriously, just read the manga with the fantastic soundtrack playing in the background. The anime's adaptation of MVA is not worth the time investment, when you could read the manga in roughly the same length of time and get more content, a more coherent plot and beautiful artwork.

So, what may come next for Season Six? I don't know. Season Five has definitely been one of the most unpopular seasons in the anime, with a lot of people speaking out against it, but this mostly seems to come from the Western fanbase, so it's up in the air if Bones will learn from their mistakes. Since they'll have a full season to do presumably the War and Rouge Deku arcs, then I feel like they'll put on a better show. But we just don't know. Spinner had his spotlight stolen this time around, will Compress suffer the same fate in Season Six? Dabi and Toga will probably be handled well, since they have inexplicably high amounts of popularity, but with his own lack of recognition rivalling Spinner's, I can see Sako ending up much the same way. Time will tell, I suppose.

#my villain academia #mva #league of villains #Meta Liberation Army #studio bones #bnha season 5

[imagine-loki]

Blushing in His Colours, Chapter 12

TITLE: Blushing in His Colours CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 12 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki being a Daddy Dom, his adores and loves his little, worships the ground she walks on. She has vaginismus, but he couldn’t be more supportive with her. RATING: M

Loki watched the team carefully as they lounged around. Mia was lying on the sofa next to him, with her head on his lap. He was stroking her hair gently while she watched TV, but he was too occupied. He was trying to figure out who would be best to talk to about his… problem.

Thor would be of no use, he didn’t want to go to Tony or Clint, knowing they would likely blab to the rest of the team and take the piss out of him. Vision especially would likely spill the beans.

He didn’t want to ask any of the girls, it would likely get back to Mia that way.

So that left either Bruce or Steve as the best candidate…

When Mia went to bed, Loki managed to get Steve alone in the kitchen. Steve looked at Loki suspiciously as he was hovering around.

‘Alright, Loki?’

‘I… need your advice on something.’ Loki said, slightly irritated he was actually asking a mortal for help.

Steve looked surprised. ‘Uh, sure. What is it?’ Steve sat down with a drink and Loki swiftly sat down opposite him, tapping the table.

‘You do not tell anyone else of this conversation.’ Loki said firmly, glaring over at him.

Steve raised an eyebrow and shrugged. ‘Ok…’

‘I mean it, this does not reach anyone else’s ears.’

‘Alright, alright. What is it?’ Steve thought it must be important if a God was coming to him for advice. He had never seen him looking so… uncertain.

Loki looked away for a moment and then back to Steve. ‘I have an issue, with Mia. Sexually… Whenever she uses her mouth on me, I can barely last ten seconds. I never used to have an issue with blowjobs, but with Mia I can’t seem to control myself.’ Loki blurted out.

Steve smirked, holding back a chuckle. Loki glared at him across the table.

‘I knew I shouldn’t have come to you.’ Loki sneered and stood up abruptly.

‘No, no, Loki. I’m sorry. It’s just, I never thought I would have a God coming to me for advice about sex.’ Steve said apologetically.

Loki sighed angrily and sat down again, arms over his chest.

‘So… You just lose control, find her too sexy to last around her?’ Steve asked.

‘Seems so.’ Loki nodded.

‘Well, what does she say about it? Does it bother her that you can’t last long?’

‘No, she says she rather likes it.’

‘So what’s the problem?’ Steve leaned back in his chair as he waited for Loki to answer.

‘I want to last longer. It’s ridiculous that I can’t!’

‘Well… have you tried thinking about something not sexy?’

‘Tried that.’ Loki huffed.

‘I really don’t see the problem, Loki. If she doesn’t mind it happening and likes it, why worry about it? Maybe she finds it endearing, that you find her so sexy you can’t control yourself. I think it just bothers you that this is something you don’t seem to have impeccable control and self-restraint over.’ Steve shrugged.

Loki’s jaw clenched and he wasn’t happy with that suggestion. But when he actually thought about it, he realised that Steve was right. It was annoying him because it was something he couldn’t control. He ran his hand down his face and groaned.

‘So, what… I should just accept it?’

Steve nodded. ‘I’d say so. It might get easier over time, but just enjoy each other and have fun. Surely if you make sure she gets plenty of pleasure too, it doesn’t really matter. You do make sure she has fun too, right?’

‘Of course I do! How dare you think otherwise.’

‘Ok, ok.’ Steve put his hands up in defence. ‘Well there you go, there’s no problem if you’re both enjoying it. I used to have that problem when I was younger with a girl I dated for a while, couldn’t last long at all during intercourse.’ He shrugged.

‘During intercourse?’ Loki questioned, raising an eyebrow.

‘Yep. I’m sure a blowjob from her would’ve been the same, I just couldn’t control myself.’

Loki swallowed hard. ‘Thanks for your help, Steve.’ He nodded at him, then swiftly left the room.

‘Just talk to her!’ Steve shouted just before he disappeared.

Steve was slightly bewildered at the conversation, unable to believe it had happened, but at the same time he felt a little honoured that Loki chose to go to him for advice.

Loki lay in bed and his mind was racing. He had never even thought about when they were to have intercourse when she was ready. If he came so fast in her mouth, he knew he would have no chance inside her… Especially with how tight she would be.

‘Oh, what am I going to do?’ He ran his hand down his face.

-

A few days later, Loki went back to his room after a small mission with the team. As soon as he walked in, he could sense that she was here…

Smirking to himself, he looked around the room carefully. ‘Where oh where is my little Mia?’ He cooed, starting to wander around.

He managed to zone in pretty quickly to where she was, listening carefully for her breathing. She was hiding underneath his bed. But he decided to tease her, looking elsewhere first.

‘Hmm, is she in the wardrobe?’ Loki hummed as he wandered over to said wardrobe and opened it, pretending to look inside. ‘Nope… she’s not in here. Where else could she be?’

Mia could see his boots as he walked around his room, looking for her. She put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from giggling.

She looked round over her shoulder when she saw him walking around the bed to the other side, behind her. Before she could turn around, Loki reached under and grabbed her ankle. She screeched and laughed as he carefully dragged her out from underneath the bed.

Loki chuckled when she turned around to look up at him, she was about to try scrambling away but was stunned. She had never seen him in his full armour with the helmet and cape included. But as he towered over her now, she felt intimidated by his presence, remembering he was a God, but mainly, extremely turned on.

Loki noticed her eyes widen as she froze, staring up at him. He smirked and leaned down to scoop her up into his arms, tickling her a little as he then cradled her to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

‘You look stunned, sweetling?’ He grinned, his hand slipping to her bottom to support her and the other came up to smooth her hair back from her face so he could see her properly.

‘Just… uhm… never seen you… wearing all this before.’ She said quietly, cheeks bright red as she looked up at his helmet.

‘You’ve seen me in my armour before.’ Loki chuckled.

‘Yeah… but not with… helmet… and… cape… too.’ She nibbled her lower lip slightly nervously.

Loki raised an eyebrow at her and cupped her cheek. ‘Am I making you nervous, sweetling?’

‘Not… not nervous, per say… but just…’ She shrugged, unsure of where she was going with it. Loki chuckled again when she then decided to hide her face in against his neck. He rubbed her back and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

‘You know… This helmet would make for good handles for you to hold on to.’ He purred, moving slowly towards the bed.

He heard a small gasp from her, making him grin.

Mia found herself swiftly placed down on his bed, with him looming over her as he removed her jeans and knickers in one. Winking up at her playfully, he moved straight in and draped her legs over his shoulders.

She let out a moan as he started feasting upon her. She did exactly as he had suggested and reached down to grab hold of his horns tightly. It was nice having something so sturdy to hold, and the sight of the God between her thighs like that was the most arousing sight she had ever seen.

After Loki had bestowed multiple orgasms upon her, and Mia had gone down on Loki too, making him cum embarrassingly quick as usual, the two lay together in one another’s arms. Completely naked, aside from Loki’s cape that was wrapped snugly around Mia. The soft velvet felt so good against her bare skin.

‘So uhm… I ordered some dilators…’ Mia said quietly, glancing up to him.

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. I thought they might be… useful to try. You know… expand myself a bit.’ She said shyly. ‘But I… was wondering if you would help me with them, when they arrive?’

Loki smiled and stoked her back lazily. ‘Of course I will, my little sweetling. We could have a lot of fun with them.’ He wiggled his eyebrows, making her giggle. ‘But I hope you aren’t rushing yourself, you know there is no rush at all.’ He said softly.

‘I know… But I do want to be able to have sex, sooner than later. Do you not want to?’ She asked, concerned.

Loki frowned. ‘Of course I do, darling. Why would you think I don’t?’

‘It’s just… I thought men were… well, often thinking of the main goal at the end. But you don’t…’ Mia said honestly.

‘Oh baby girl.’ Loki sat up more and cupped her face, keeping her eyes on him. ‘Of course having sex with you would be incredible and it is something I very much look forward to. But I am having so much fun with you as we are, and we haven’t even gotten started yet! Look, I will be honest with you… I’m struggling to come to terms with the fact I can’t last ten seconds in your mouth, I know it will be even worse when I do get inside of you.’

Mia was slightly stunned to hear that confession. ‘Really?’

‘Mmhmm. You’re just far too gorgeous, I can’t handle you.’ Loki smirked.

Mia giggled and put her face down against his chest. ‘So… Going slow is for both of us? Not just me?’ She asked as she raised her head to look at him again.

‘It is.’ Loki nodded, tracing his fingers down the side of her face. ‘I need to learn to control myself better around you. And you need to learn to just enjoy the fun, to not put pressure on yourself.’

Mia nodded in agreement. ‘I uhm… I hope you know I truly don’t mind, that you cum so quickly. I really like it actually. I…’ She paused, looking a bit embarrassed.

‘Tell me, sweetling. What is it?’

‘I think I have a weird obsession with cum…’ She blurted out, laughing and hiding her face again.

Loki laughed with her and tickled her sides, making her squeal and reveal her face. He rolled them over so she was underneath him and he cupped her chin. ‘That is a wonderful obsession. What is it about it, hmm? Do you enjoy swallowing it?’ Loki hummed.

Mia nodded. ‘It… it’s kind of… like… well… having something from inside you, inside me excites me… If that doesn’t sound stupid or weird.’

‘Not at all. Rather erotic I’d say.’ He purred and kissed her. ‘And if I keep going at the rate I am, cumming every ten seconds, your stomach will soon be full of me.’ 

Loki started kissing all over her face, making her laugh hysterically. 

-

As Loki lay there later that night, with Mia tucked under his arm and her head on his chest as she slept soundly, he realised that Steve was right. Just talking to her, even if he was a little embarrassed, was the solution.

He realised that it wasn’t just Mia that had to be open and honest. It was him too.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #blushing in his colours #chapter 12 #fanfichiddles

[johnny-and-dora]

kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dancefloor

46. “i caught the bouquet” requested by the loml sara @macperalta!!! used a harry styles lyric just for you bb 💐💕

read on ao3 -

Jake wouldn’t call himself a domestic god, per-say.

He supposes that his best efforts to haphazardly fold laundry qualify him for at least a bronze in the boyfriend category, although he anxiously suspects he’s somehow done it wrong. The silverware that he’s laid out all fancy and the pizza he’s shoved in the oven in anticipation of Amy’s arrival should score him some hefty bonus points, though. And the fact that he even attempted to vacuum earlier means he must be eligible for some sort of domesticity award at least.

(The celebratory domestic bagel he ate afterwards may have resulted in him getting crumbs all over the carpet again, but it’s the thought that really counts.)

So maybe he’s not quite god-level yet – really, he’s only doing the bare minimum of what’s expected of a functioning adult/good boyfriend/super sexy roommate. But he’s kept their apartment relatively clean in Amy’s two-day absence. He even remembered to use coasters and where she keeps the fabric softener. In short, he is the champion of total domestic bliss.

Jake grins as he pours two glasses of red wine and fist pumps at not spilling a drop on Amy’s favourite fancy tablecloth, knowing that she’ll be home in a matter of minutes and find a nice, non-takeout candlelit dinner waiting for her. He steps back to admire his handiwork – there’s even a full salad bowl, which he has no intention of eating from – and smiles, content. He’s totally marriage material.

As if on cue, he hears Amy’s key in the lock. She barely has time to kick off her shoes before he’s practically tackling her, revelling in the sweet sound and feel of her laugh buzzing against her lips as she melts into his embrace.

“Hey, babe.” She says sweetly, a knowing and loving glint in her eye. “Did you miss me?”

“Maybe a little.” Amy rolls her eyes, but then her gaze leaves his and lands on their dining room table, just visible over his shoulder. When they unfurl from each other her expression has gone all soft and he can’t help but feel some scattered embers of pride start to flicker and spark, putting his nerves at ease.

(After all this time, he still worries about being too much sometimes – but any fear or doubt usually crumbles when he looks to her and realises he must be doing something right.)

“What’s all this?”

“Dinner.” He says, a little shy, rocking back and forwards on his heels slightly. “I thought you deserved something nice after the drive from Jersey.”

“Oh, this is perfect.” She leans up on the balls of her feet to kiss him – for all his love of her sensible work boots and her strappy heels, he’d hide them all to spend more time savouring their height difference. “Thank you, Jake.”

“It’s no big deal. How was the wedding?” He asks as they move to the kitchen and he hands her a glass of wine. She hums in content, leaning back against the counter.

“It was beautiful. Almost beautiful enough to distract me from my entire extended family asking probing questions about my love life.” She teases, reaching out to playfully poke his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Jake says gingerly, feeling a sting of disappointment at the thought of leaving her at the latest Santiago wedding without a date. He had actually really been looking forward to meeting the rest of Amy’s brothers and a whole swarm of other relatives, but an ill-timed new lead and a crucial stakeout had put a wrench in that plan at the last minute.

“It’s not your fault, babe. You know I would have cancelled if it had been me. Besides, I showed them some cute pictures of us and that shut them up. My aunt thinks you’re adorable.”

“Oh, well I’ll have to give her a call.”

“I also…might have…caught the bouquet.” She says sheepishly, her gaze hooded and apprehensive. It takes a second for his brain to hurry up and realise what that means, and his heart does a funny thing where it trips up on itself. Sort of like mentally slipping on a banana peel.

The whole weird who’s getting married next thing. Which isn’t a problem, actually – if anything it works in his favour, because the plan absolutely is for them to get married. He would propose here and now if he’d found the right ring yet (Gina has been unsurprisingly unhelpful in all four of the jewellery places they’ve visited so far) and if he didn’t have the beginnings of a really dope proposal plan that he really wants to pull off.

“Oh, really?” He has this irrational fear that his voice might have jumped up two octaves, but thankfully it remains even enough, yet still making it very clear that he’s trying to remain as casual as possible.

“Yep. In front of my entire extended family. Who then proceeded to give me embarrassing knowing looks for the rest of the evening.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Oh, it was the best.”

They share a grin, but it’s still hanging in the air. Amy’s still looking at him in that shy, uncertain way, as if she doesn’t already know that she’s the love of his life, and that absolutely won’t do at all.

“Well, you know what that means.”

“…I do?”

“Yep. You better get the binder started now.” His heart is in his mouth as he’s saying it, because it’s not a proposal but it’s a hey I’d love to get married someday soon and that’s only slightly less terrifying. He feels like he should be holding some flowers at least, or else anything else but a dishcloth.

But he’s smiling, smiling, and then her eyes get this glowing shiny quality as she smiles back that just really makes Jake want to kiss her, so he does. And it doesn’t feel scary at all, giving some voice to the visions he’s had of Amy with a ring on her finger he’s been having since late April.

It just makes him feel even more like the champion of domestic bliss when he’s crowding her up against the kitchen island he thoroughly dusted earlier and he knows he wants this forever.

“I may or may not have possibly made some vague wedding-related outlines on the flight home.”

“That’s so hot.”

The oven timer goes off before they can get into any specifics, which is good because the whole of Brooklyn can probably hear Amy’s stomach growling, and because he’s about two seconds away from keeling over with joy if they talk about their hypothetical wedding any longer.

It’s not like he ever really doubted that the feeling wasn’t mutual. But knowing that Amy’s thought about it, that she has a vague outline somewhere just as he has a few plans and ideas hastily typed at 3am on his phone, knowing that she wants to be married to him someday – it’s a warmth, a security, a rare kind of love that he can’t quite put into words.

It doesn’t come up again for the rest of the evening. Instead, they clink their wine glasses together and dance while they do the dishes and make-out on the couch until it’s time for bed. Amy laughs while Jake regales tales of Charles bringing an actual portable cheeseboard to their stakeout, and Jake listens as she fills him in on the latest scandalous Santiago family gossip, gasping in the all the right places.

It’s not until he’s staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to crash over him that he even remembers the subject coming up – quietly, tentatively, he listens out in the quiet, still darkness of their bedroom to see if Amy’s still awake.

“Hey, Ames?”

“Mmm?”

“You…you know that I’m all in, right? Like this is it, for me. You and me. I mean you probably already knew that, I just wanted to double-check because of what we talked about before, and I thought-“

“I do know.” She says softly, a soothing balm to his thundering heart. “And you should know that it’s the same for me.”

“Cool.” He says, a little breathless, easily overwhelmed. “I love you. And hey, I promise not to miss our wedding for a stupid stakeout with Charles and his obscure cheeses.”

“That’s all I ask.” She says mock-seriously, shifting closer to him as he laughs and knows that he is truly home whenever she is beside him.

That night, Jake falls asleep with a smile on his face, content with knowing that he may not be a domestic god, but Amy still wants to marry him, so that’s got to count for something.

He’s always valued her opinion more than anyone else’s anyway.

#b99 #b99 fic #peraltiago #jake x amy #brooklyn 99 #happy anniversary to these nerds #god i love them #shut up sian #my writing

[bluexiao]

- About morning: "The sun has risen. It is yet another start for a new day. Good morning, Traveler. Come, I've prepared breakfast."

- About afternoon: "The sunlight is the harshest during afternoon. But the shade under the tree in Windrise is also beautifully highlighted during this time. Would you like to join me on my way there?"

- About night: "Ah, nighttime. The wind is always the calmest when the whole world is asleep."

- When it rains: "The rain drops heavy against the ground today. Let's find shelter, it would be better to rest for now."

- When the rain stops: "Oh, the rain has stopped. Shall we find a spot to settle down? I will make some warm stew for you."

- When it snows: "The world always seems to fall silent when it snows. The cold air feels heavy however."

- About hobbies: "A hobby? It's something you do for... leisure, if I'm not wrong? I'm not sure... but I do enjoy cooking for others. Other than that, I'm afraid I might not have more. It might be the only thing I specialize in outside my battle prowess."

- Favorite food: "Favorite... food? It would be Apple Cider. I have found myself having this drink more than I expected during times I was making sure Venti... stay in line when we're at a bar. The drink can sober you up if you've one too many glasses of wine. Other than being commonly found at a bar, it's an invigorating drink to make on your travels as well. I can make some for you, if you'd like."

- Least Favorite Food: "I do not harbor any dislike towards any kinds of food. However, I despise seeing food that I try to cook turn out terrible. Food in such condition cannot be served for others."

- About Dandelion Wine: "I am partially uncertain on my opinion of Dandelion Wine. As this particular drink is the reason why Venti is always drunk and muttering senseless things in his stupor. Dandelion Wine is delectable but I personally prefer Apple Cider... so I can stay sober for the two of us."

- About Mondstadt: "Mondstadt... This city is everything to me. I was there when it crumbled apart, I was there when it flourished into the City of Freedom. Venti smiles upon Mondstadt, and so do I."

- About Liyue: "I do not have the chance to travel outside Mondstadt often... but I've been to Liyue several times. Liyue is quite the prosperous city indeed. The Lantern Rite Festival was exceptionally breathtaking."

- More About Aria - I: "You are curious as to how I handle Venti? Most of the time, I try to keep him in line in taverns such as preventing him from drinking more than our budget, not letting him fall off the chair, and... Oh, I'm rambling, aren't I? I apologize."

- More About Aria - II: "My favorite flower is Windwheel Asters. I adore how the wind passes through their petals, it gives off a pleasant feeling."

- More About Aria - III: "I do not have any talent for singing. My voice is not suited for such beautiful melodies. Listening to Venti's songs is more than enough for me."

- More About Aria - IV: "I do not have a family, nor do I have any othe relatives. Venti might be the only person closest to 'family' for me. Hmm, siblings have fun and do favors for each other, you say? Well, I tend to take care of his troublemaking yet 'having fun' habits, maybe that would count?"

- More About Aria - V: "People often tell me I look soulless. They are not wrong... but it makes me feel meek. My origins are not something easy to share. There may be times where I question the importance of my existence, but that is only a silly thought. At the very least, you know of my true self, Traveler. I am grateful."

- Something to Share: "I do not necessarily require sleep. A being such as myself is not bounded by fatigue and age. But I understand that people around me are different, so I am willing to wait for them to take their time. I suppose, this is why I always remind you to rest."

- Interesting Things: "Venti told me that apparently, I disappear out of sight whenever I feel too lulled by the breeze or a song. Do not panic, it is only because I morph back into my original form when I lose control of my human form. Call my name, I will still answer even when you cannot see me."

- Troubles: "You wish to know about my troubles? I am trying to keep my best from letting Venti consume too much Dandelion Wine per usual. But lately... I've been thinking about how I'd like to get to know certain people but I am uncertain on how to approach them without a proper reason. *sigh* It seems I am still a novice when it comes to interactions with others..."

- About Aria - Wind Whisperer: "The Wind Whisperer... It's been such a long time since I've been addressed by that title. Do I miss it? Oh, the name does hold precious memories for me. I am still the Wind Whisperer, but I am also Aria."

- About Aria - Vision: "My Vision was handed to me the very first time I opened my eyes. It was placed in my hands and at that moment, I was born as the Wind Whisperer."

- About Visions: "To me, having a Vision is a responsibility. A reminder that I am given these powers to protect those in need. Ever since I was born with this Vision, I know I exist to protect Mondstadt and its people. But to other Vision bearers, their purposes are solely theirs to decide."

- About the Archons: "The Archons each has the responsibility to rule over a part of Teyvat to keep it from falling apart. However along with this responsibility, the Archons carry with them great burden. All of them have secrets buried in their past that led them to be who they are. I live to respect that."

hello! so sorry this is late! i absolutely agree with how venti & aria seemed siblings of the sort^^ i feel like both of them have similarities too, now that i’ve realized. like venti, aria is born somewhat peculiarly, and she’s somewhat… alone, that’s what i sense with her character. she has this “purpose” that she values but what really does she like doing the most ?

anyway i just said my analysis on her hahah. good work on the voicelines nonnie!! i enjoyed reading more about aria^^

#🖌

[evanescentdawn]

MASTERLIST (and review) MAY 2021

This Must Count For Something -

Fandom: Omniscient Reader 

Pairing: Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk

Summary: Dokja deals with the Mortification of Feelings, while Joonghyuk as per usual is no help at all.

Notes: This one is still such a big surprise. I honestly didn’t think it was gonna become this big, haha. Like it’s the first time I ever reached 3K. And am so so so proud of it. Their dynamic was so much fun to write for. Writing Kdj’s pov especially. The ending a bit weak, but I do love this one a lot. And the most amazing thing of it: I wrote it in a day! And then edited it and posted it the next day which is...wh. what. 

Everytime I look at this, It makes me feel like I can do anything now. Because I was uncertain about being able to write sm well or at all, but then I wrote it and IN FIRST PERSON. So yeah. I realise that all of that must’ve been like me thinking too hard about things. Just need to write, and go with the flow. Like this one, and just not hesitate with writing. 

Heaven -

Fandom: Supernatural 

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Castiel

Summary: The first time Castiel sees Sam really laugh, it takes him by surprise. 

They are sitting in a hotel bed, talking, when it blooms out like a roar, Sam’s body comes to life and glows. It’s—gorgeous. Castiel is enchanted. Human’s describe Heaven as Light and Divinity, full of peace and enlightenment. It sounds nothing like the home that Castiel was familiar with. If that is what Heaven is, though, Castiel thinks, then—this is where Heaven must be. What Heaven must be.

Sam.

Notes: This was a longgg time wip I had which I love v dearly and wanted to finish so much times, but didn’t manage too. But then, I got a comment on of my sastiel fics which was so sweet??? and so??? kind so. lol i got sudden surge  motivation and managed to finish this!! It’s incredible. I love it a lot. It’s also amazing to see how my style here is different. I wanna write something similar to this again. 

I really went crazy with the descriptions and absolutely love it. It was so fun!

Chance -

Fandom: Omniscient Reader 

Pairing: Yoo Joonghyuk/Yoo Sangah

Summary: Sangah hears the words she’s been dreading from Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth, come.

“I love you.” He says. Delivering it like he does with everything else, pouring all his heart into the words.

How could she refuse it now, when it’s blatantly in front of her?

Notes: This was fun to write for! Don’t think I will be ever writing for this two separately though, I prefer much them in a poly. Oh boyy it was intense with finishing writing for it, I think there are parts that I kinda rushed so like stuff I might’ve included didn’t make the cut. But! Overall, and how I ended it, was nice! I loveeee it. The ending was a completely surprise and i super love how it came out. I think it fits v nicely with the whole theme.

The stars tangled in our hair -

Fandom: Omniscient Reader

Pairing: Yoo Sangah/Jung Heewon

Summary: There’s a hand snaking around her waist. Jung Heewon leans back against the weight, dizzy, so grateful for it that she doesn’t even question who it is.

Notes: This was so much funn to write for! Gosh, really love these two. I actually love everything about it?? Don’t think there’s any part that I’m unhappy about! My only lament is that it wasn’t longer, lol. And I guess, how the transition from the beginning to Heewon in the hospital is a bit bumpy. Everything else, though? Good! 🥰

#masterlist #may 2021 #FINALLY adding in the reviews which i said i would do haha #supernatural #omniscient reader #orv

[automaticenemycrusade]

Joyride: Ch. 2 - Kit’s Caravan

“Why is it my job to babysit?”

This had been the fourth or fifth time Nord was being complained to by Irro about their little arrangement, and while it went without saying, he was growing just a tinsy bit weary of it. From what he could tell, she had grown impatient and bored in the week that followed, in the week they all bargained for. The one day he promised them proved just as unfulfilling as the last, just as the next day did, then the next, then the next, but today, he always said, today would be the day where he could be careless.

He responded flatly, and with a hint of exasperation, “Because that’s your job.” What more did she expect? He supposed it made sense when he gave it some deeper thought. There must have been a reason for the vixen to blatantly leave behind her sibling. Maybe she sought escape from just that, from babysitting. In any case, he pushed it aside. He could discuss theories with himself later, because for now, Irro still looked irked.

“Okay, but why is it my job to babysit?” Out of all the odd jobs the caravan had to do on the Sandpiercer, she was burdened with the delicate task of caring for the smaller ones, including the more menial of duties, like in her current case, changing out Raysik’s diaper. If one couldn’t tell already, it was the responsibility that she hated the most. Nord could never tell why, nor would he ever ask. It’s anyone’s guess as to the latter.

“Because it’s your job, like it’s Rheana’s job to babysit Lynsol, and it’s Jole’s job to cook, and it’s my job to…” He trailed off. Fortunately for him, his cousin had just arrived to finish off his sentence. How convenient.

“To do everything else. We get it, big guy. Say, I’m starved, you think you could head out and-” And then he was cut off by another, by Raysik.

“Go faster! I wanna playyyy!”

“Yeah, I know, and it’ll go faster if you stay quiet for five more seconds.”

Then the boy started kicking his legs, and then the whining ensued, and then a sharp, “FASTER.” bellowed from him. Irro was next to join the cacophony with an unnecessarily drawn-out groan, and soon, Lynsol with his whimpers; Rheana with her pleading; Jole with his sly comments. Nord’s ears began to wilt, draping over the sides of his cheeks and pinning there to block out the raving chatter. It wasn’t working.

“Please shut up, please.” But in spite of her begging, Raysik continued to wail, which caused her to raise her voice and vice versa. Syllables grew more prolonged, cries grew louder, and Nord continued to shrink.

Nord interjected, “Raysik, pl-” but was cut off again.

“It hurts…”

“I know, honey.”

“Hmph!”

“Stop moving so much!”

Nord tried at it again. “Guys-” Again, he was cut off. Rheana’s added attempts at silencing them fell on deaf ears.

“Too loud.”

“Please quiet down.”

“Faster!”

“I’d be done if you’d stop kicking!”

And again. “Guys, listen to me. Guys?” And the cycle repeated, again. “Please.” And again. “No one’s listening to me--guys!” And again. “Guys!” Until the words eventually blurred together in a cluster of inseparable sounds, until Nord simply couldn’t take it anymore, and it was only with a thunderous stomp and a booming, “GUYS!” that silence finally descended upon the wagon. They all stared back at him with those same starry-eyed looks, waiting and anticipating. He didn’t have to utter a word for the caravan to fall into a chorus of apologies and resignations. He was almost awestruck at how much sway he held, but proud all the same. “Thank you.” And with that, he moved to open the door and head outside, for he was in desperate need of fresh air. He was stopped by the familiar stammer of a vixen though, namely Rheana.

“Where are you going?” She asked.

“Outside. I need some air. I won’t be long.”

She nodded faintly, adding, “Okay.” And not another word was spoken as Nord departed out the door. In fact, it wasn’t until he made it a few yards away that he heard the chatter start up again, though from this distance, he couldn’t tell whether it was good or bad. Either way, it wasn’t his problem right now, and he trusted Jole enough to keep things orderly in his absence, even if the fox was the living incarnate of chaos. He’d freely admit to that too. For now, he needed time to himself, time to think, time to collect his thoughts. Despite how free-rein this trip of theirs was, he rarely got the time to do just that. It was better spent tending to something or doing a chore, the very thing he wanted to escape when he agreed to this. This was meant to be his temporary reprieve! Yet all it had been was another way for fate, or karma, or kismet to kick him in the butt.

He couldn’t complain though. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t grown fond of their little family in the week he had known them, even if they came to odds every now and again. Today, though, felt like the worst of them all, at least in terms of everyone’s physical shape. Lynsol had been feeling ill since the day before, Jole was lacking his usual pep, Irro was bored, Rheana was paranoid, and Raysik was oftentimes impatient. Nord, on the other hand, was lost. This wasn’t the first time he had come outside in the name of retrospection, nor would it be the last, and he could guarantee that. He felt aimless, dull, and he wasn’t at all pleased with how accustomed he was growing with the shackles of leadership. It scared him how much they all looked up to him, how much faith they had in him, because he knew he didn’t deserve it. Deep down, he knew he was both their blessing and their curse.

He hated it. He hated it so much. He just wasn’t sure who ‘it’ should be. Though, as per the usual, his train of thought was derailed once a voice reached his ears, a voice calling his name. His eyes shot up to the sky, in fear that time was once again slipping away. How long had he sat out there? An hour? More? He looked over to Jole--who had just arrived at his side--and opened his mouth, though he found the words had already abandoned him. His cousin, however, was happy to fill the silence.

“Nordyyy,” He started. “You good?” Nord had to wonder how many times those words had been passed between them at that point. Too many times. “I’ve been sensing some off vibes from you.”

“I’m just stressed, is all. We’ve been out here a week, Jole. I don’t--” He stammered. “What do I tell their parents when we get back? Why are we still out here?” A sharp pain hit his gut, like all of his stupidity was just now donning on him. What was he thinking, being so selfish? What was he thinking? He wobbled and shot up onto his feet, sputtering, “We need to go home. All of us. We’ve been out here too long.” And then he pivoted and started walking, but to his surprise, a hand to his shoulder hindered him from going any further. He turned his head to send the most boggled glance at Jole. What was he doing?

“Hey, hey,” He reeled Nord back in, cooing soothingly. “Just take a sit down, big guy. I can tell things have been weighing on you lately, but you don’t gotta worry, ‘cause I got everything handled behind the scenes. It’s the big, deep desert, Nordy. They’d be stupid not to expect a delay or four.” He spoke slowly and enunciated his words, which, to his success (Nord could only guess), got his cousin to start nodding along, for better or for worse. “Remember what this is all about, ‘kay?”

“We’re educating the kits? The authentic caravaneer experience?”

Jole shook his head. “Fun, bud. Fun.”

Despite all the cozy reassurances, Nord remained unconvinced, and with a shrug of his shoulder, continued his traipse toward the wagon. He was stopped again. “What.”

“You’re stressed, I get it,” The ashfur put his hands out in front of him, appearing as understanding as he possibly could. “But you don’t wanna ruin all their fun, right?”

Nord scoffed. He knew that was a lie. He knew that was a lie. “Jole--”

“Shh-shh-shh,” Jole put a finger to his cousin’s lip. “I got an easy fix. You’re tense, you’re worried, and that’s fine, I am too sometimes, but me? I got a solution.” He raised his hand, wiggled his fingers, then dug deep into that overstuffed coat he had grown prone to wearing, before pulling from it the smallest satchel Nord had ever seen. He’d be better off calling it a pouch with buckles and straps, though it’s what was inside that Jole sought to grab his attention with. A crudely-carved pipe that, once he caught a whiff, smelt absolutely rancid. Jole, however, was waving the thing around like it was the key to a Sethraki fortune. “This’ll make you feel a million times better.”

Nord retrieved it from him tentatively. “What is it?”

The ashfur shrugged, as if he himself wasn’t all that sure. “Gift from Dad. He has, like, fifty of ‘em, and he decided to send me one, so…” He paused, itching at the nape of his neck. “Wouldn’t wanna put it to waste, right?” And to push the point, he nudged it further into his grasp, which worked. Somehow.

“How do--” And Jole immediately hushed him, as his hand delved back into his coat and pulled out a little sack--a packet--which he tore open and slipped its contents into the bowl of the pipe. It appeared to be an array of milled herbs and plantlife. Nord couldn’t help but wonder what the end goal here was.

“And then,” He paused and held up a finger, before bolting off back to the Sandpiercer, where he snatched up a twig--of all things--and held it to the lantern light to set the tip ablaze. Once he brought that back, to Nord’s sheer confusion, he held it to the bowl and set the flame to the herbs. Nord recoiled in disgust. That did NOT smell fragrant. “Easy as that.” Jole popped a grin. “Now, you smoke it. Puff-puff.”

His counterpart had never quirked his brow higher, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued by the prospect. Nord shuffled the device awkwardly in his hands, uncertain as to how he should take it, but with Jole’s guidance, he got the proper hold eventually. “Puff-puff,” He repeated, bringing the mouthpiece to his lips. “Puff.” And he proceeded to do the exact opposite and inhale, hacking and sputtering once the mix of herbs went the opposite way. Jole nearly slapped him upside the head for that one.

“Puff.”

“Right. Sorry.”

And he did just that. Puff. Smoke soon trailed from his nostrils as his shoulders began to sag, a distant, “You feelin’ it?” catching his ear. For the first time, he felt relaxed. He was amazed! What kind of magic was this? “What?” He stuttered, though he found the word only played in his head, or if it did come out, it was faint. Time was moving faster, the world was spinning--it was both a dream and a nightmare. The pipe itself had left his hand, before finding itself there again but a second later. Puff.

Puff.

Nord couldn’t have told anyone in full confidence how long he’d stood there, in that spot, with pipe in hand. It could have been as little as five minutes, or as long as a day. He wasn’t sure. But, when he eventually returned from semi-consciousness, he found that he was alone again, with delicate footsteps approaching close behind him. He didn’t dare to catch a preemptive glance at whatever was coming to greet him, and it was anyone’s guess as to why.

“Hey,” they said. It was Irro, unexpectedly. “You’ve been out here a while.”

He didn’t find that as off-putting as he probably should have. He asked for this the minute he took Jole up on his offer. “Yeah,” he replied lazily, his movements sluggish. “Just needed some me time, I guess.” With that, he left them at an awkward and wordless impasse. That is, until his eyes landed on the pipe still planted in his hands, when shame and guilt took hold. He couldn’t hide it anymore. “Hey,” Irro looked back at him, wide-eyed. “Don’t be like me. Okay?”

She turned her gaze elsewhere when he said it, placid-like. She probably wasn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart, but she was here, she had made that decision, and now she faced the consequences. She shrugged. “Dunno why. You seem kinda,” She made a so-so gesture. “Prime example-ish.”

Nord chuckled half-heartedly. “Do as I say, not as I do.” And that, too, squeezed a titter out of the vixen. Not a word more was exchanged between them, but he didn’t mind. He was satisfied with the company. He--and he assumed she too--fell into a fit of admiring the sunset, a sight he too often missed, just as it was descending past the horizon. It was nice. This was nice. “--Irro?”

And she was already gone.

♦

To no one’s surprise, the day that followed didn’t prove any more thrilling than the last, nor the next, nor the next. A week turned to two, weeks turned to a month, a month turned to six, and months turned to a year. A year. A year away from home and family, a year Nord had kept the children under his care away from their mothers and fathers. A year turned to more drags of the pipe; it turned to more of Jole’s stupid reassurances; it turned to more impatience, paranoia, and boredom, but on a lighter note, it turned to stronger bonds; it turned to more days spent as a family; it turned to memories that Nord could enjoy well into his golden years. In time, a year turned to four.

Nord had lost count of the days. With each sunrise and sunset, he had to remind himself it wasn’t the one from the night before. Sometimes he’d forget to do so and lose a day, and those added up very quickly. He’d often lose weeks at a time if there wasn’t something particularly memorable that happened in them, which didn’t happen often, because little changed from day to day. Today was no exception.

Here he sat, aboard the Sandpiercer, watching the vulpera mingle with one another, and awaiting something, anything, to happen. Though it excluded the company of Jole and Lynsol, the others did their best to entertain him, with some being more fervent than their peers. Rheana--bless her soul--could talk his ear off all she wanted, but her efforts were for naught. To Nord, it was but another day, where nothing ever changed.

It was unsettling. The deeper he fell into his own head, the more the voices around him dimmed and the less physical response Rheana received. Then came the abrupt hammering at the door, and his senses were instantly reignited.

“We got a big problem here!”

♦

Jole had never been one for theatrics. Of course, he had never been all that good at telling the truth either! But, if there’s one thing he was ace at, it was coming up with bizarre and ludicrous games for the whole family to enjoy. They came in all variants, all styles of play, and while he had his preferences, his utmost favorite of them all was Valley Hopping. It was a simple enough game to play: you picked an opponent, you picked a valley, you picked a starting spot and a finish line, then you met up, you clapped hands, and you ran. The best part? It didn’t matter who won the race. It only mattered how much stuff you managed to grab along the way, as that’s how points were tallied. Plantlife, herbs, metal scraps, whatever one could spot mid-dash. And today, that’s exactly the game he wanted to play.

Step One: Pick an Opponent. Easy enough. There was no one around that he was particularly on board with, or vice versa. More so vice versa. The siblings had some steady vibes, but one was really annoying and the other hated his guts for whatever reason. She’d say otherwise when she got the chance, but Jole saw right through her. That’s another thing he was ace at. He was ace at a lot of things. Was he getting off topic? He was getting off topic. There was the other vixen, but she was subpar competition, and Jole was looking for something fresh, something exciting. Lo and behold, in came that little, dappled bundle of sunshine. Lyn, Lynnie, Lynman, Lynster, Lil’ Lyn, Lynsol. Bingo.

“Lynnie!”

“Mm?”

He stuck out a hand. “Wanna go Valley Hopping?”

“Me? Really?” He already looked giddy. Jole’s handiwork, no doubt. “Oh, but,” And then it evaporated. Jole would have scoffed-- “Nordy said I had chores to do today. He says I gotta start being more independent.” He scoffed. Lynsol, true to his nature, took notice of it and elaborated, “But I wanna go! I can do stuff after.” And there came that smile. Who could say no to that smile? Not that Jole was planning on saying no anyway.

“Not a worry, Lynman, I’m sure the big boss won’t mind. We’re here to have fun, aren’t we?” He gave the boy’s shoulder a light punch, which was met with a similarly light titter. That’s one step down.

Step Two: Pick a Valley. This step might as well have been a formality. Vol’dun was practically made of valleys. Instead of doing the thing Nordy might have done, like pull out a whole-ass map to pencil down the approximate locations and the threat of the local wildlife and the Sethrak activity in the area, Jole was going to do a thing called “winging it,” which as you may have guessed, was another thing he was ace at. All the same, he and Lynster wandered around the desert for quite some time before landing upon a quaint little canyon in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t his go-to, but it would do.

The ashfur swung his sack onto the ground, announcing with prolix, “Allllriiiiiight! Now all we need to do is pick a start and finish,” Step Three, by the way. “and we’ll be more golden than a troll king buried in a family tomb. I sayyyyy, here to there!” He pointed vaguely. “Easy-peasy.” 

Lynsol looked unsure of what to do with the jumble of words that just escaped Jole’s lips, but damn it if he didn’t try anyway-- “Okay!” He paused, briefly looking off into the distance, supposedly where Jole had pointed. He was far off, but Jole gave credit where it was due. The boy looked back. “Where?”

Jole waved his hands dismissively. “Details, details! Just follow me and stop when I stop.”

“Oh, okay!” Lynnie’s eyes darted off elsewhere, before darting right back. “What if I get in front of you?”

He would have scoffed if not for-- You know what? Fuck it. He scoffed. “First of all,” He rose a pointer finger. “You won’t. Trust me,” then rose a middle finger. “And second of all, it doesn’t matter who wiiins! C’mon, y’know this. Just matters how much stuff you grab along the way.” He flicked at Lynman’s ear. Playfully, obviously. In any case, he looked more than on board.

Step Four: Clap Hands. Technically Step Five, but they had already “met up,” per se, so they were allowed to skip around. Plus, it was his game, so he could do what he wanted. It’s not like having fun was meant to be orderly. Was he being bitter? He was being bitter. After a quick readjustment of his vibe, he led his opponent to their starting spot, as it were, before arching low enough that his chest would meet his thigh and his knuckles would meet the sand. He extended his hand out at his side, where it would soon meet the flat of Lynnie’s.

“Remember, it’s a test of perception, not speed.” He probably didn’t know what ‘perception’ meant, huh? Jole elaborated, “Who can eye gooder.”

“Okay!”

“No looking back, no backtracking. Oh, and mind the hornets.”

“What?”

“OKAY. ONETWOTHREEGO.”

And with their resounding clap, they set off into the canyon, with that previous sound becoming completely overshot by the sound of their footsteps, and soon enough, the heaving of their breath, though that may have just been Jole. Did the vigor of youth count as cheating?-- Whoa. He nearly missed that clump of star moss. Keep it cool, keep it frosty.

Running, and running, and running. He couldn’t waste even a moment to look over his shoulder to see the state of his competitor. It’s not like he could have overtaken him already! This was the kid’s first time playing, and there were a lot of tactics one had to learn to--

And there he was, like some mystical, blazing arrow that had been shot from the bow of a Loa. Did Loa have bows? Jole had never been too poetic-- FOCUS. And so he began to speed up, his feet slamming into the dunes like it had just insulted his mother, which, admittedly, wasn’t all that good of a simile, because Jole wouldn’t have cared. Worse yet, now they were heading into the brush and briar, which meant thorns to jab at their toes. At the very least, he was ahead of Lynster again, though he was deeply regretting not opting for his go-to. He knew that valley inside and out! He would have had the advantage! When he asked for something exciting and something fresh, he wasn’t asking to lose.

Not that he was going to lose, of course.

And that mentality stuck! That is, until Jole found that he had collided with a branch. WHAM! But as quick as he collapsed, he ascended back to his feet. A distant, concerned, “Are you okay?” rung out behind him, probably from Lynnie, definitely from Lynnie. He called out in reply, “NO BACKTRACKING.” which received an even quieter, “Right! Sorry!” in turn.

He repeated the process again, over and over, in an almost mindless fashion. What he thought to be absolute centuries of droning and braindead collection turned out to be, to his surprise, a singular minute. He blanked. Did he just pull a Nordy? He wouldn’t be given the chance to process that, as he was tugged back into reality by the click-clacking of… something. He could have stopped running to investigate, but therein lied the issue. It required stopping. It’s not like he had to pin it down. It could have been something as simple as the rustle of their knapsacks, which it no doubt was now that he thought about it.

Still, that gut feeling wasn’t going away, and it was rare that his gut feelings were wrong. The click-clacking grew louder, so loud that it crept into the realm of familiarity. He knew exactly what he was hearing, yet at the same time, he was denying it. A contradiction unto himself. His first instinct was to keep running, but then he heard the grunts, the panicked cry, and then one, sharp, “JOLLY!”

And that finally convinced him to grind to a halt. He huffed out a breath, then weakly pivoted on his heel. His knees were numb. Everything was numb. But none of that mattered when the adrenaline took hold. He would remember vividly what he saw that evening: that same dappled bundle of sunshine batting away at a hornet--the ugliest one he had ever seen--with a twig. Maybe they were all that ugly. He had never gotten this close to one before, willingly or not.

The ashfur watched as the hornet’s stinger, like some disgusting, throbbing quill, sunk into Lynsol’s back for the briefest moment, before fight or flight took the reins. Jole barreled into the fray, hefting up a branch two times his size and swinging it at the thing. Never had he been so pleased to hear the crunching of a carapace than in that moment, but he couldn’t stay long. Despite every muscle in his body pushing him to finish the bug off, he knew he had to do the wise thing, just this once. 

And that’s just what he did.

He hoisted the boy into his arms and ran. He ran like he never had before, which may have been a lie. He was only vulperan, so he had his limitations, but, you know, dramatic narration and all. This isn’t to say he wasn’t trying, he really was trying. He really was. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t want it to be his fault. It wasn’t. It wouldn’t be.

“I’ve gotcha, little guy, don’t worry.” He didn’t sound all that certain, which isn’t to say that he wasn’t. He definitely was! He just didn’t sound like it. “Just hold on for me, ‘kay? ‘Kay. Alright.”

He hadn’t gone too far, thankfully, so it wasn’t long until the Sandpiercer was in sight. He wasted no time in colliding with the door and banging on it relentlessly. Between his panicked breathing and his incoherent cursing, he sputtered out,

“We got a big problem here!”

♦

When Nord threw open the door, he was greeted with a relative who fancied himself a visionary, carrying the limp body of a dreamer. In all his life, in all the terrible, abhorrent news he had seen and been given over the years, in all the times his heart had sunk, it had never sunk so fast as when his eyes landed upon the aimless, dull blues of Lynsol’s, staring back at him pleadingly. His hand had never flown up so quickly, and he had never pointed at Rheana with such fury before. His voice had never bellowed so loudly, nor had it ever sounded so angry. His suggestions became demands and his propositions became orders. In an instant, he had changed. In an instant, the gravity of the situation had broken him.

As soon as he received the rug he had asked for, he swept himself outside, laid it on the ground, and barked, “Put him down on this!” which his cousin was more than happy to oblige. His hands landed on the boy just as the opportunity arose, checking every place one could tell a pulse from, repeatedly, as his mind lay fragmented somewhere between paranoia and blind hatred. This time he wouldn’t let the seconds slip away from him, because he was going to count each and every one of them. His eyes shot back up at Jole. “What did you do.”

The ashfur looked disturbed, to say the least, but as per his nature, he had the divine ability to evaporate his own tension as if it were as easy as flipping a switch. “I dunno. He was out playing in the canyon, I think. I didn’t know what he was doing, but I looked away for one second and I found him like this.” He rose the boy’s head, high enough to gesture to the venomous wound that lay in his back. The rampant anxiety clung harder. “Sting, I could guess.” He shrugged. Shrugged. He wasn’t taking this seriously at all.

“Well, did you clean it? He should be fine if you disinfected the wound. You cleaned it, right?” Nord’s breathing only grew further out of pace, while Lynsol’s began to waver.

Jole paused. “I, uh, I didn’t find him soon enough. I didn’t know what to do--” He choked.

“Then it’s infected. It’s infected.” He muttered a swear. “There’s an antidote. It’s the,” He clapped his hands together in a desperate attempt to reignite his memory. “The stalk, near the caves, to the north. Get some, quickly.” He waved off the ashfur, but he did not leave. He blanked at him. “Jole, go!--”

“Do you want me to die too?! I can’t go! It’s almost night, the Sethrak will--”

“He’s going to die, Jole! Are you just going to stand there and gawk while you could be, I don’t know, TRYING?” Nord’s eyes fell back down to the boy, who now clung to his arm. He clung back, if not with a tinge more force, before his attention shot back up to the ashfur. Why was he still here? “JOLE.”

“I CAN’T DO ANYTHING.”

Nord’s heart beat within his chest faster than it ever had. He felt faint. Every solution he calculated in his head lost its legs at an unprecedented dead end, everything he and his merry band of children could do would do next to nothing. What could he do? Why didn’t he go back? Why didn’t he say no?

There was a huff of breath that reached his ears--Lynsol’s--that caused him to envelope the boy with his own body. The rise and fall of his chest staggered, as Nord desperately tried making out the words he was supposedly being told.

“Can’t breathe.”

“I can’t breathe.”

Nord muttered back, “It’s okay, Lynnie, shhh… It’s okay.” as he laid him back down while remaining just as close. His hand went to frailly claw at his throat to emphasize the point, the truth that Nord wished to do anything but accept. “Remember when I said you’d help us all learn how to keep our chins up? Well, you did it, Lynnie. We need you to keep doing it. I need you.” And in that single space of time, his surroundings became just as unclear as when he took a drag of the pipe. The world seemed to slow, solely to trap him in this one torturous moment. He couldn’t hear any other voice, any other breath, besides the boy’s, not even his own. He stared into the eyes of happiness itself, of sunshine, of hope. He stared into those eyes just as they began to flicker. Every word he ushered he couldn’t hear; every minor reassurance fell on deaf ears. He was all that mattered. Why didn’t they see that? He wanted to scream, to berate, to separate the wall, but he, too, was limp, just as that little bundle of sunshine was.

Lynnie.

And then the light died.

#irromemoirs #wowrp #wowrpblog #wyrmrestaccordrp #vulpera #voldun #vulperarp #worldofwarcraftrp

[thatesqcrush]

Play Pretend, Pt. 1

Rafael Barba x Reader. CW: eventual smut & language. AN: An established couple decides to spice things up.

Tags: @madpanda75 @ottosuricato @delia26 @dreila03 @sass-and-suspenders @glimmerglittergirl @melsquared79 @mommakat32 @garturbo @southern-magnolia @tropes-and-tales @niyashell @imjustreallynosy @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @sweetsummertime99 @evee87 @scarletsoldierrr @kscarlett1 @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @zoeykaytesmom - anyone else just ask!

**

Being in a long term relationship certainly has its perks, but it also has some downfalls. Some of your most favorite nights were just curling up with Rafael in sweats, watching a movie and eating takeout. It’s freeing to be completely comfortable with someone, to unabashedly yourself, but it also fosters an illusion of familiarity.

You weren’t bored per se, but you knew you two were hitting a rut. It all had become too monotonous and routine. For instance, Fridays were “flex-Fridays” at the courthouse and Rafael came home early those nights, a perk of being one of the more senior ADAs. As a courtroom sketch artist, you also had a more flexible schedule. You could almost count to the second he would walk through the door. Even the Chinese take-out place knew you before you even gave your name. “Cashew chicken and shrimp lo mein, egg rolls with hot mustard, I know, I know,” the woman on the other side of the line finished gleefully before you could even finish your own sentence.

Rafael thrived on the routine, since it created calm in his insanely stressful life but he could sense you were becoming unnerved. So one night, while you slept soundly, Rafael crept out of bed, and did some research.

When he pitched the idea to you, you were instantly into it.

There were fake names and backgrounds. You were a model in town for a shoot; he was a broker on Wall Street. There was also safety words: one as a warning and one to call the entire thing off in case either became too uncomfortable. You chose a bar in the Financial District - not too far from home/work but far enough that neither of you should be recognized.

Rafael had no idea what to even wear. Endless clothes hung in his closet and yet nothing seemed good enough. Eventually he settled on dark denim jeans, a crisp white button down and a black suit jacket. Prior to, he shaved off his beard, which he knew you might give him shit for later, but he wanted to really change it up for you. He tucked his gold crucifex into his shirt and sprayed on cologne. He ran the comb through his hair once more, creating a swoop in the front. Giving himself a once over, he nodded and grabbed his wallet and a mint to suck on.

Walking to the bar that night to meet his own girlfriend, Rafael was struck with anxiety. Choosing a bar stool felt as fraught with possibilities and drawbacks as an opening chess move. In the end, Rafael settled on a stool two away from another man at the end of the bar, leaving you the choice to sit beside either him or the other man.

He ordered a scotch and out of habit, he almost ordered you your own drink: a scotch on the rocks with a twist. Rafael took out his phone and hit up the SCOTUS blog, a favorite - reading about legal updates was soothing on his nerves.

As Rafael read, he was tempted to check the time every five seconds. He began to have second thoughts when you didn’t show exactly on the nose. Perhaps you changed your mind and when he got home, he’d find an empty apartment. That thought alone made his stomach knot up and want to puke.

You did show. Only 15 minutes late. When you walked in, Rafael had to remind himself to pick up his jaw, which had gone slack. You were, as always, beautiful. But you were almost unrecognizable. Your hair, which was usually pinned up, was loose, cascading over your shoulders. You wore a tight white halter sleeveless crop top, that just bared your midriff and a brown leather midi skirt, with a slit that traveled high, and left little to the imagination. You feet were adorned with leopard print heeled booties and you carried carried a red clutch. Your ears were adorned with thin silver hoops. Your makeup, which was usually demure, was bold. You had decided at the last minute to get your makeup done at Ulta, which was why you were late. The visual alone had roughly the same warm, disorienting effect on Rafael as a half a Dilaudid, chewed did.

Your eyes instinctively met and the familiarity of that alone, calmed you. Part of you just wanted to run up to him but you didn’t. You scanned through your seating options: sitting next to Rafael was too easy. Instead, you chose to sit across the way. The bartender approached and you ordered an old fashioned.

Rafael tried to watch you inconspicuously. He watched as you swirled the cherry from the drink with your tongue and he swallowed hard as you took it in between your teeth and bit down, squirting cherry juice on your lips.

Just as he was about to make his way over, someone else beat him to you. Rafael watched as the man struck up an easy conversation with you. You laughed at something he said, and leaned in just ever so slightly. Rafael shot the rest of his drink back quickly, and slammed his drink on the bar table a bit too hard, causing you to stop and glance over. The look was so subtle, that to anyone else it would have just been nothing, but Rafael could see the reassurance on your face. You quickly turned back to the persona non grata.

“Let me buy you another drink,” the man whose name you didn’t care to remember asked. You shook your head and raised your still full glass. “Thanks, but I am still working on this one.”

“You’re very beautiful. I find it hard to believe someone hasn’t snatched you up.”

“That’s because I am no one’s to snatch,” you replied curtly with a wink. “But I’m flattered that you find me beautiful.”

Rafael ordered another drink, accepting that you were forced to behave realistically flirtatious - that the game was no longer truly private - it was tethered to reality.

And to his own surprise, Rafael was also approached by someone else who was also interested in him. She was a lawyer - in wills and estates. She was interesting and pretty, so he did his bit, trying to not break character. Rafael pretended to be interested in what she was saying.

Eventually the stranger left, leaving you back alone. You watched as Rafael flirted on his own. You knew Rafael was easy to engage with and charming. You tried to not get equally as jealous as Rafael ordered the woman a drink - a martini with an obscene amount of olives. ‘How could anyone not be attracted to him?’ You wondered. “It should be illegal to be that fucking hot,” you muttered before taking another sip of your drink.

You weren’t alone much longer, as you were approached by someone else. The conversation with gentleman number two went more smoothly even though you felt uncertain and self conscious as to how the game would continue.

Both new friends left, and somehow subconsciously you found yourself closer to Rafael. And finally, Rafael approached you and introduced himself. It was awkward at first, but then it became flirty and fun. There was a sense of trust and permission granting that whatever was happening was okay. You were both playing together.

Chit chat was made about where you were both from and lines of work. Rafael was enchanted by your persona. Gabrielle Cilmi’s “Sweet About Me” played in the background; the raspy and coarse delivery against the electro beat and rocksteady grooves with lyrics about making trouble seemed to resemble the playful mood between you and Rafael.

Rafael allowed himself to be seduced by you and you him. You closed the gap between the two of you as he talked about dominating the stock market.

“Is that so?” You batted your eyes coquettishly, pressing yourself against him. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and you can dominate me.”

Rafael’s eyes darkened as he swallowed his drink. You smirked before leaning over the bar, trying to wave down the bartender to order another round of drinks. Rafael admired the how the supple leather framed your rear and he could feel the heat pool in his groin. More drinks were had. The flirtation intensified. When Rafael touched your hand, the feeling was electric - as if you were touching for the first time. Rafael dipped his head to your ear, his breath tickled you and his cologne overwhelmed your senses.

“Want to get out of here?” Rafael questioned huskily, his voice low and gravely.

“What did you say your name was again? I want to make sure I’m screaming the right name tonight,” you purred, caving.

Rafael grinned cheekily. Never had he paid a bar tab so quickly.

TBC.

#rafael barba #rafaelbarbafanfic #rafaelbarbaimagine #reader x barba #barba smut #rafael barba and reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fanfiction

[sugawara-sweetheart]

Hi there! HQ!! Matchup, please? I'm a straight, 5'3 Gemini ENFP girl who's slightly chubby with tan skin, black wavy hair, and glasses. I may come off as slightly haughty, but I'm generally a talkative and curious person who loves discussion. It's also very easy for me to cry, either because of a movie or when I'm mad or overwhelmed. I'm not good with tangible gifts to show how much I love someone, so I show it through words or actions. I'm also a worrywart and it messes with my stomach (1/2)

(2/2) often. Some of the things I'm passionate about include visual novels, singing, psychology, and just talking to others in general. I love rabbits, pastel colors, and pop/folk/acoustic music. In my friend group I tend to be the more chatty and dreamy one. In relationships two things I prize highly would be honesty and communication. I usually end up falling for people who I deem worthy enough to be my "rock". Thank you so much!

thank you for sending in a request!!💗i hope you enjoy- this was super fun to write but so hard to decide so i hope you like it :)

i match you with...bokuto kōtarō!!!

you and bokuto probably get to know each other through akaashi who is your classmate and invites you to join their evening study session on days they don’t have practise

i headcanon bokuto to be the type to love smart girls so when he sees you looking intellectual in your glasses and hears you and akaashi discuss so many topics, he is ✨i n l o v e✨

even though at first you seem haughty and dismissive of the ace, he never gave up and would love speaking to you any chance he got- in the mornings he’d approach you at the academy gates and ask how you slept before telling you about his dreams. at lunch he’d talk about his favourite manga and ask what your favourite food is and in the evening, when you know practise has ended, you can expect your phone to ping and to flash with bokuto’s name on the screen

once you both start dating, bokuto is OBSESSED with your body. he finds you sexy and cannot stop touching you, loving to grope at your thighs and rest his head on your chest and stomach. he loves to kiss your stretch marks and everytime you see him he will look at you like you’re a Greek goddess and tell you you’re gorgeous i just love chubby bodies this is self indulgent i apologise

“cuddling you...is so good...am i in heaven?” is often words you’ll hear bokuto sleepily mumble into your chest when he’s spooning you

bokuto is really extroverted so as per your mbti compatability, you would both strive off that and love each other’s company. the two of you would also have conversations on anything and probably quite loudly too so you get kicked out of the cinema and library a lot *cancel movie and study dates*

being enfp, you’re perceptive to understand bokuto really well and can predict his moods and easily fix his slumps. bokuto also loves being around you because you’re so fun and energetic with him!!! *cue akaashi and kuroo babysitting not one but two little crackheads*

bokuto also dotes on a lot so if you ever begin to neglect yourself to prioritise him, bokuto will always find a way to steer you back into making sure you put yourself first because he adores you and needs you to be happy, not just make him happy

i don’t think you two would argue a lot but when you do, the two of you become extremely miserable and cannot do anything but mope, sometimes crying. fights also never last long because within a few hours at most, you will both go running back to each other and apologise regardless whether or not the problem was solved

loves to tease you about glasses but also finds them extremely sexy. also likes to try them on and takes pictures with them cutie

the first time you cried in front of bokuto you were watching Up and it was too emotional for you. bokuto was first bewildered and then emo mode (akaashi has to cheer both of you up from time to time) but eventually he finds your children’s film-induced pout and teary eyes too cute to stay sad

he starts to coo and tease at you playfully, holding you close and kissing your tears away, promising to change the film which makes you cheer up a lot more

bokuto loves the fact that you show affection through words or actions. it makes him so happy to know you love him when you tell him directly or when he leaves practise to have you jump into his arms the moment he’s stepped out of the gym

in return bokuto loves showing you just as much affection. as a pda lover, he will always be holding you in public and constantly kisses you, sometimes making you shy but he’s too in love with you that it’s unbearable to go five minutes without tasting your sweet lips

loves singing aloud to your favourite songs with you. you have a shared playlist which you make up dances to and use hairbrushes as microphones

akaashi bokuto finds really cool music shops and concerts to take you to on dates

honesty and straightforwardness works well with you and bokuto as he hates feeling uncertain so you being truthful always reduces his anxieties and helps you two through conflict. he’s equally as honest and loves to show his emotions to you, meaning you understand him better and will always be there to support him through his rapid mood changes the volleyball team and coach insist you sit on the bench every game for that reason

at first, bokuto isn’t always quite the rock you want because he’s so used to people caring for him, but once he realises how serious your worries and anxiety is, he will always try to calm you and assure you, either with gentle affirmations or just physical touch, enveloping you into his warm arms and delicately kissing your forehead

“breathe with me, y/n. i’m here for you.” even if he’s panicking inside with uncertainty whether it’s even working, you’ll feel much safer with bokuto’s thick arms around you, making you feel like you’re in a protective cucoon

every night bokuto will insist on having a conversation with you before you sleep, either on the phone if you’re apart or with one of your heads on the other’s chest if you’re together. he will want to hear all about your day, down to the very fine details “how gassy did those beans make you then, y/n?” “kou, i swear to god, shut up.” before telling you all about his own

probably overshares

“i think i had too much beef today because it just made me feel so sick and i almost vomited-”“kou, love?” “yes, baby?” “shut up❤️.”

in the morning, bokuto loves to chat to you all throughout breakfast and whilst you both get ready, insisting you tell him all about your dreams and daydreams. in return, he tells you his even crazier ones

people always wonder how you two spend so much time talking to each other but you and bokuto love each other far too much to get ever bored

takes you to rabbit farms and buys you one for your birthday. the rabbit thinks bokuto is an owl and gets scared

someone else you’d also match with: sugawara kōshi

#match up #match up requests #matchups #haikyuu match up #hq match up #bokuto match up #bokuto #bokuto headcanon #headcanons #haikyuu imagines #bokuto imagines #hq bokuto #miffythoughts #requests

[okimargarvez]

REVERSE - 20

Original title: Reverse.

Prompt: Penelope is the new girl on the BAU team and Luke tries to treat her cold.

Warning: A.U., possible OOC.

Genre: drama, romantic, family, friendship.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia, BAU team, Derek Morgan, O.C. Sam Cooper’ team, Roxy.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 62 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💑😘👓🔦🐶❗🎲🎈👻🎬🎵.

Song mentioned: Amici per errore, Tiziano Ferro.

Reverse- Masterlist

GARVEZ STORIES

20 # Choose the wrong way then find your smell in all places

She didn't do it on purpose. She had no idea when she set foot in that shop. She had frequented this place for years. She was one of their best customers. This is the series of excuses that she says to herself, while her feet lead her to the bullpen, in a certainly not random point. She watches him as he prepares to leave. He is too concentrated to notice her presence. -Hello.- she greets him.

Luke automatically returns her, without taking his eyes off the bag in front of him. -Hello.- when he raises them, however, he understands who is there. Only his extreme control of the body prevents him from reacting in a more obvious and striking way. All he does outside is to slightly narrow his mouth. -Uh, Garcia, it's you.- he pretends to be indifferent. -Do you need anything?- in reality, he is describing each of her features as usual. The salmon-colored dress with a square neckline, the huge yellow flower that has absolutely nothing to do with the rest, the white jacket with black polka dots, the hair curled only on the tips, the necklace of stones (black), the brown glasses and that ridiculous, very strange transparent plastic that covers her. He is not expert enough in fashion to know the name of that business. But he doesn't think it can keep her warm. She would be much better off if she wore something like his jacket. Well, not right his own.

In the present, she is shaking her head. -Not for me.- she seems uncertain. She certainly has something in store, but he doesn't even try to imagine what kind. Garcia shrugs, taunting him. -I noticed that your desk is the emptiest of the BAU and I bet of the whole building.- she looks down, in the direction of her bag. He had been expecting such a comment for a long time, but he knows it didn't end there. -...and I happened to find...- she extracts an object, small. -This.- she puts it in front of his nose, smiling, hopeful, convinced that he will like it.

And she's right. All of Luke's self-control goes to hell, due to the mix of that figurine and the expression of Penelope. He can't decide which of the two is the sweetest. -Wow, but it's identical to Roxy.- he comments, gently pulling it out from her fingers, having enough time to see how good is the contrast between the shades of their skin. Both they also feel a shock, as usual, at that very short contact.

She is literally hopping on the spot. -It is, isn't it?- she asks, not caring about the rest of the world, about the other agents, mostly bureaucrats, who look in their direction, not understanding the reason for such enthusiasm. The man glares at them and everyone returns to do their own business. But he doesn’t realize that he has defended her.

-Yup.- he lays it on his desk for a moment. Both look at the effect on it. -Thanks.- he adds, but then withdraws it in his own bag. He wants to show it to the original for a second opinion. They head towards the elevators. Someone dares to peek at them as they pass, but as soon as Luke raises his eyes, they retreat like snails into the shell.

-You're welcome.- they stop in sync. -And how are you?- then she seems to consider it an excessively personal and perhaps annoying question (of course she does everything by herself, he doesn't reply anything, not even with a single gesture), but instead of withdrawing it, she replaces it with a more neutral one. -The case in Vermont was very bad. Don’t you think so?- he nods.

But then he shrugs. -Quite.- he has seen far worse, even if he understands what she means. As an animal lover, it is easy to sympathize with one who kills hunters. And as for the other half of the murders, it is almost tempting to consider him innocent. When they arrested him, he looked right at him, asking that they help him. He didn't want to kill. He had an illness. He sighs. Certainly she would have deserved a more comprehensive answer.

Something in the glance he gives him suggests that a declaration is coming, one with a capital D, as Chrissie would say. -I just wanted you to know that... Even if you keep thinking that I don't deserve this role, if you need to talk to someone, to let off steam, I'm here- he doesn't correct her, just because he wants to see how far she goes -even if you don't want me to.- the shock has reached stratospheric levels.

He tries to replicate something, but all that comes out is her surname. -Garcia.- who knows what the heck she reads, in his tone, because she starts again to ramble, talking fast, wandering, confusing him only more. And that desperate, lost expression not even she confessed that she loves him and he rejected her with a no thank you.

She moves her head, her hands, she passes them on her face, on her neck, then she manages to hold them still, squeezing them against her body. -I know, I exaggerated, I once again crossed the borders, but I am this.- again, she catches something in his gaze, perhaps thinking that Luke considers it an egoistic, stupid justification. -If you really can't stand it, I'll find a way to hold back.- it sounds like a promise that will cost her a lot. -But I just wanted...- she shakes her head. -I thought that after you confiding with me about Reid, that something had changed, that I had managed to scratch a little that granite heart you have in your chest.- the last sentence snatches an amused grimace from him.

The definition seems appropriate to him, and it is certain that Christine would approve. -All right, I admit it.- Garcia is right, something has changed in their relationship. Neither of them can believe that farce of him that hates her. It has become a kind of innocent game between them. With all that wandering, with her clumsy attempts to cheer him up, with that kiss on the cheek (has he perhaps forgotten it? Of course he didn’t), her light caresses, her gifts, her attentions in general... in short, yes, she deserves to hear the truth out loud. -I don't mind having you around, I'm glad you came, okay?- he watches her biting her lips, hanging from his lips. No, what he thought it is not right. She hadn't understood it, or wasn't sure. But now she knows. -But I won't stop teasing you, Penelope.- and he walks away, just as he hears the sound announcing the arrival of the elevator. She almost runs to reach him. He waits until she is on board, too, to finish. -I'm having too much fun.- this time, however, she doesn’t fall into his provocation.

She looks at him with her mouth open. -Luke?- she finally manages to stutter.

He looks at her smug. -What?- he presses the button and the doors close.

-Did... did you notice that this is the first time you use my name?- she is too genuinely happy. It is hard not to return her smile.

-Well, everyone makes mistakes.- Garcia, however, doesn’t buy it, not even at all. -Enjoy the moment.- he adds, and that's exactly what she does, dropping the bag on the ground and throwing her arms around his neck in an embrace. He feels she is about to come off, probably already regretted having ventured so much and at the same time already violated the promise she made him (and that he didn't ask her); but he stops her by holding her against him, her breast on his chest, her head on his shoulder. Neither of them moves their hands in caresses, although both would like to do it. She smells deeply the scent of his fabric softener, of Roxy, of the labors he had to face during the day. He is totally inebriated by her floral aroma that wraps him like a blanket and drives him crazy. They think the same thing. It tastes like home.

-

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#garvez #criminal minds #cm #luke alvez #penelope garcia #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #garcia x alvez #alvez x garcia #a.u. #o.c. #tiziano ferro #amici per errore