#char a remembered event and asked char b if he remembered it

[thiccpersonality]

B My Valentine: (aka) A brief love holiday interlude to Damian (Gremlin) Wayne and his even more gremlin-esque family

It was Valentine's Day at Wayne Manor. A usually peaceful and non destructive holiday. Usually you'd expect for a love filled holiday event to be filled with...well, love and affection for each other and remembering what makes you love each other.

But in Wayne Manor, Valentine's Day means more competition, for what you ask? Well, for more of Bruce's approval of course! Every night (actually weeks) before the big day Bruce's family spends the night(s) toiling away at handmade cards and ideas, each trying to outdo the other on their gifts and carefully crafted surprises for their dear dad.

But...they (Richard, Jason and Tim) have an issue. There's extra competition today, not only is that brat Damian (reluctantly admitted by the older boys to be) super talented, but those wenches Bruce (for some reason) adopted into the family suddenly flocked towards Wayne Manor with a competitive gleam in their eyes. The three eldest could practically smell the determination from Barbara, Stephanie and Cassandra.

Bruce's cousin Kate even came, but she said it was for the seasonal goodies and to watch the chaos unfold. Although, the boys and girls are weary about her...the woman can be surprisingly great at hiding her emotions, even to the point of confusing Cass sometimes.

Of course no one lets Bruce in on the fact his family are being competitive on such a loving day, they just are content on letting the man bask in the loudness of his large home. The man always brightens up in his own way when everyone (or almost everyone. Duke couldn't make it) manages to visit, the corners of his lips turn up slightly and everyone has come to notice a happy blush overtakes his usually pale cheeks.

Which brings everyone to now. January 14th: Valentine's Day on a Wednesday at 7am. Richard waking up at a horrid smell coming from what he assumes to be the kitchen, his jaw clenching when he goes to check his hidden camera in the kitchen only to find the device not working and showing a glitchy and static screen.

The acrobat creeps out of his bed and down the hallway and stairs towards his target, his ears honing in on the quiet curses from a woman. Richard slips into the kitchen to watch Stephanie freaking Brown trying to cook...whatever it is? The older can't actually tell with how charred the...pancake? Or some batter like texture is burned and others a mixture of charred and undercooked.

Stephanie gasps at a tall shadow being cast behind her the girl preparing to turn around only to be pressed into the counter as an all too familiar voice whispers softly and all too sweetly in her ear, "Do you need my help, traitor?"

Richard allows the blonde to turn around and smiles down at the flustered girl, "Traitor!? How am I a traitor? We never agreed to work together." Stephanie sputters and blows a strand of hair out of her face.

Richard narrows his eyes at the younger girl and pulls away, "I suppose so. But your actions these past few days were letting me know we had some sort of pact. How could you shut off my cameras like that?" Stephanie look at the taller confused, "You...put cameras up to watch us? What is wrong with this family!?"

From the doorway comes a deeper voice, Jason holding out his hands to show the covert listening devices-aka: bugs/wires that were put in his and everyone else's rooms-when the two turn to look at him.

"Then how do you explain THESE, Stephanie? I know you and Timbo were helping each other bug everyone's rooms. You two thought you could be sooo sneaky."

Stephanie opens her mouth to defend herself, but Tim suddenly appears from a cabinet, stepping in front of the now baffled girl. "Not another word Stephanie, he has no proof. As far as we know he could be accusing us of his own crimes."

A burst of laughter escapes Jason and he pulls out his phone to wave it around, "Are you sure about that? I wouldn't sound so confident talking like that to the person who has video evidence from A CERTAIN SOMEONE'S hidden cameras." Tim gasps and Stephanie curses, the two looking to a betrayed looking Richard who points at the skunk haired teen.

"I-It was you who shut off my cameras! You knew about them and were using them to get blackmail material!"

Tim crosses his arms and huffs, "Kind of sus that he knew about my bugs as well! Almost like he was spying on us the whole time!"

Richard gasps again and turns to Stephanie, "Or almost like he had help shutting things down and figuring things out so a CERTAIN GIRL could sneak her ass downstairs to make Bruce handmade food." Stephanie's eyes widen and she shakes her head, "I demand a lawyer. You can't pin all of this on me! We were helped by Barbara!"

At the confession a curse is heard from what sounds like a speaker, when Jason gets to searching he finds one behind the fridge, Barbara's voice bitter as it speaks. "I'll get you for this, Steph. So what if I helped them both? You both asked help from Cass to take those cameras down as well."

Jason and Steph curse while Tim sips at his suddenly materialized coffee, shaking his head disappointedly. "There's no loyalty in family anymore. Where did the trust go?"

Cassandra jump scares everyone by suddenly appearing on top of the fridge, her brown eyes staring down on them like a judgmental god, "No trust. Only war. You three let downs. Quiet agreement. You break truce-" brown eyes narrow accusingly at Jason and Stephanie-"Now my enemies. Free game."

Barbara suddenly appears from the doorway and immediately starts to pin blame on the two teens.

Chaos soon erupts and everyone is pinning blame on one another. The arguing group not noticing Damian listening from above the steps and smiling to himself at how everything worked out beautifully. He still finds it odd how a mysterious source left a note in his room about all the going ons of his enemies siblings...but he'll count his blessings one by one he supposes.

Damian excitedly rushes to Bruce's room and opens the door quietly, stilling at seeing his father up in bed with Alfred by his side. The two men holding bugging devices and watching videos of everything that happened the past few weeks, Bruce looks up in surprise at Damian before his brows furrow.

"What is all this?"

Damian opens and closes his mouth, too flustered at being caught to respond. At the silence Bruce just sighs and stands up, grabbing Damian's small hand in his and leading him back out of the room. "I assume your siblings are up as well? We need to have a talk about this right now."

Damian bows his head as he's led into the kitchen by Bruce, everyone quieting down at realizing they've been caught red-handed.

--A few minutes later--

"It's touching that you all want my affection...but if this is the only reason you celebrate Valentine's Day is to squabble and one up each other...then maybe don't. A-Am I really that bad at letting you guys know I love and appreciate you that you have to fight for me to notice you?"

Jason frowns at that and shakes his head, "You can be a bit emotionally constipated-" he grunts at the elbow in his side-"But we know you love us! It's more of like...your love is such a treasure we get greedy and want to eliminate any and all competition!"

Bruce looks up at the genuine smiles and nods of agreement from his children, the man sighing and shoulders slumping more. "But I want to love all of you-" Ice blue eyes turn to look at the mess in the kitchen curiously and hopefully-"Oh? W-Were you all trying to make me breakfast? Did you all come together to try and make me food?"

Everyone freezes and looks at each other before coming to a silent agreement, all the Wayne children smiling and nodding quickly, their voices meshing together to sound like a happy symphony.

"Of course! We only wanted you to be happy!"

Bruce's eyes widen in shock and awe, his cheeks flushing happily as he stands and starts directing his kids to do different tasks. "I used to cook with Alfred a lot as a kid! We can cook breakfast together!"

The family get so distracted cleaning up Stephanie's mess that they don't notice Kate and Alfred at the kitchen entrance. The former huffing a laugh and looking at the butler suspiciously, "So how did you do this?"

Alfred keeps his gaze forward and smirks the tiniest bit before patting the red head's arm and turning away. "I had no involvement my dear child, it must be cupid working their magic. You go join them and I'll be right back."

Kate tilts her head but quickly rushes into the chaos to join her cousin and his crazy kids.

Alfred smiles at hearing the laughter and noise coming from the kitchen as he heads up the stairs again. Damian's complaints being heard on Stephanie and Tim's mixing patterns, Richard fighting with Jason on who's going to lick the spoon and Cass and Barbara murmuring quietly on how they'll decorate Bruce's plate to look pretty.

After arriving to Bruce's bedroom again Alfred steps onto the balcony, clears his throat and looks towards the sky, "Master Kent." Only a millisecond passes before Clark-or he should say Superman-is hovering in front of him, deep blue eyes curious on the outcome of his mission.

"So how did everything go? Did you really need to do all this just for them to calm down enough to act...civilized?"

Alfred smiles and nods, "Of course! The one thing we all can agree on is Bruce's happiness, as soon as master Bruce was disheartened by their behaviors they immediately pulled their acts together and are now making breakfast with hi-"

"Alfred? Is everything alright up here? I just thought you'd be quick to come take pi-" Bruce pauses at seeing Clark hovering outside and makes his way over to the two men-"Clark? Is everything okay? You didn't get hit with Kryptonite did you!?" Alfred smirks softly as the final part of his plan is in motion, the older gentleman eyeing the Valentine's card poking out from Superman's red shorts, the butler whispering so only Clark can hear him as he excuses himself.

"I do believe you have something to give master Bruce?"

Clark looks down nervously as the door clicks shut and he hovers closer to the concerned man, taking a deep breath in and shoving the handmade card he crafted for Bruce into his chest. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

Bruce stumbles back just a little and looks at the card, smiling at the words 'B Mine' written on the admittedly gorgeously crafted card and blushing in a mixture of shyness and happiness. "A pun on my nickname? You even drew little bats."

Clark scratches his head and chuckles nervously, "I-I know it's cheesy bu-"

"I'll be your Valentine!"

Clark gasps softly and finally makes eye contact with Bruce, delighting in the pink blush spreading across his face and down to the elegant neck, the blush intensifying at Clark's intense stare. It's at the other man's silence that Bruce repeats himself.

"I-I said I'll be your Valentine...so come and make breakfast with us?"

Deep blue eyes adoringly stare at the endearing human being before him. Clark realizing that Alfred's right as he concedes under the hypnotizing ice blue eyes and the small tug on his cape, the man super speeding into his regular everyday clothes and coming back with a wide smile as he prepares himself for a breakfast with the Wayne's.

They all really would do anything for Bruce's happiness...even if that means sacrificing your safety for a day with your Valentine and his gremlin family.

(I don't know how or why I basically wrote a whole fanfiction for you all? It was supposed to be something shorter...but I obviously got carried away XD. Happy Valentine's Day everyone and I hope whoever reads this enjoys it and has a lovely day, week, month and year.

Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

#dc comics #dc universe #dcu #bruce loves his kids #bruce wayne #bruce wayne is a good dad #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #richard grayson #jason todd #tim drake #timothy drake #damian wayne #kate kane #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #valentines day #clark kent #superman #damian wayne is cute #scheming damian (gremlin) wayne #scheming richard (gremlin) grayson #scheming jason (gremlin) todd #scheming timothy (gremlin) drake #scheming barbara (gremlin) gordon #scheming stephanie (gremlin) brown #scheming cassandra (gremlin) cain #scheming alfred (sophisticated gremlin) pennyworth #superbat

[plutonicmirror]

Zero Hour (1994) #0 [and Zero Hour in general]

Let’s continue my Zero Hour first reading. After skipping some filler tie-in issues, I reached the finale. Again, funny numbering gimmick with a 0 issue. I think Marvel also had something similar with their -1 issues back then. Oh, the 90s!

Hal Jordan Parallax reveals his master plan: “I’m gonna erase the universe so hard, I’m gonna create a new one where everything is right and everyone is happy™”. Classic case of a hero reacting to tragedy the readers are supposed to know about the Emerald Twilight story arc, but I’m LARPing as a snot-eating 10yo in 1994 who just started reading comics and doesn’t have enough attention span to know the lore with absurd amounts of cope and a plan that sounds extremely good on paper, but that other heroes must oppose because morality yadda yadda yadda. Looking at you, Injusticeverse.

Shout-out to my man Danger, a D-lister that was brought to the final fight fOr a ReAsOn. I’m gonna be honest, I skipped his tie-in because I couldn’t give a fuck about who he was. I usually like me some B/C/D/Z listers, but I also don’t give a fuck about DC’s Titans and his book was apparently tied to that whole mess so I was like “meh, next”. I mean, this young dude is a nobody right....?

*one trip to a comics wiki later*

Oh...

Ahem, moving on. The Spectre shows up looking for REVENGE after all of the JSA folks get ultra aged up or straight up deleted from existence, even though they had previously asked him for help and he was like “nah that’s human bullshit, I ain’t movin’ any finger”. Good job, asshole.

So yeah, remember our D-lister? Turns out his power (which is absorbing energy and making explosions) is specifically needed to counter Parallax’s new Big Bang. So our heroes’ plan is...to recreate the universe exactly as it was. So basically Parallax’s plan but done by them because fuck you Parallax, you don’t get to play God. Except...it doesn’t come out exactly as it was, because there’s “““subtle changes”““. In a meta way, this event was supposed to be a soft reboot to fix some of the fuckery that Crisis on Infinite Earths (a big event I haven’t read yet out of fear) caused. Was it accomplished? According to Comic Pop’s Back Issues video on this event... it kind of wasn’t. Sidenote, I highly recommend that channel’s Back Issues series, after reading an event it’s fun to watch a recap that adds background bits for the uncultured (like me) even if I sometimes feel the critique of the host is too harsh.

A not-Killing-Joke’d Batgirl from another timeline who temporarily sided with Parallax because she was doing her best “I want to be a real boy” Pinocchio impersonation got killed in the heat of the moment, so the other normal-powered hero in the room (Green Arrow) gets pissed at his former bestie. After this whole event he ragequits btw and apparently a common joke is that many readers think that should be the standard reaction to the whole thing.

Parallax is seemingly killed but it’s comics so he’ll be fine, trust the process. If I recall correctly, Hal gets to be the new Spectre for a while [*Vietnam flashbacks of Identity Crisis*]. I forgot to mention that the current Green Lantern of the time Kyle Rayner and Wally West were also “killed off”. Again, they’ll be fine. I just didn’t care enough to read a wiki and find out how they come back. But that bit brings us to this “oh yeah, that happened” moment:

Power Girl was pregnant and gave birth to a baby with the help of Wonder Woman who conveniently decided to play midwife instead of stepping up to the threath. Bue hey, guess who also was sort of born in the aftermath of this event? That’s right, I was! So surely that means that baby is a very important char-

Whoops, nevermind.

FINAL THOUGHTS ON THE WHOLE EVENT:

“7/10 it was alright” - IGN.

The contrarian in me doesn’t hate it like most nerds out there do, but it’s certainly not the greatest event ever written. Granted I went in without knowledge of a lot of stuff, like how was I supposed to make sense of what was happening in the Hawkman tie-in issue aka the whole “let’s try to solve the problem of having multiple origins for this character by literally merging them all into one” thing? How could I know what CoIE fuckery needed to be fixed if I don’t know the big impact of CoIE besides Supergirl being killed off (this fact is cultural osmosis at this point)? Did it matter to me in the long run? Not really, because it’s not like I feel compelled to keep reading DC continuity and make sense of it for the time being. The art was good, the colors were pretty, the Parallax suit was rad, the pose Ollie made at the end was Jojo-esque and dramatic, Batman fucking off from the final fight via being killed was good.

Now, the tie-ins. Some of them were fun, some of them were a drag to read because I had no idea of background info for most of them. Almost all of the Superman tie-ins were fun to read with the exception of Steel because I was tired of wiki-hunting when I reached his issue, shout out to the alternate Jor-El and Lara, the Alpha Centurion and the “Superman tries to save the Kents during the chronal rift” stories (Superman vol. 2 #93, Adventures of Superman #516, Action Comics #703 respectively). The Legion of Superheroes and adjacent issues were extremely confusing to me as a casual but oddly engaging. I had no idea what was happening but it was sort of fun. It revived my itch to read LoSH comics even if I’m still feeling overwhelmed at the mere thought of going further with that task. Oh yeah, the silent Green Arrow issue was a lot of fun! (Green Arrow vol. 2 #90).

The characters introduced were a mixed bag. On one hand we have Bart Allen aka Impulse, who was created in the prequel to this event and was sort of interesting. But then the chronal rift time erasure bullshit happens and since he’s from the 30th century he basically does nothing of importance... Alpha Centurion, as I mentioned, was a fun read in his Adventures issue but in the core event he was... a convenient minion. Thriumph? Thriump was an annoying character, one of those “oh yeah he was totally there in the beggining of the big team but the big name characters just don’t remember tee hee!”. Don’t worry though, he would later die of a cold. Or something like that. Extant felt edgy throughout most of the core issues and the tie-ins, he really had that Madara Uchiha endgame villain energy...until he was revealed to be just a pawn that was just rebelling. And then he fucks off. Shout-out to this specific goofy panel:

Tie-in issues skipped: Anima #7, Batman: Shadow of the Bat #31, Damage #6, Robin vol. 2 #10, Showcase ‘94 #10, Steel #8, Team Titans #24 (yeah, this team got erased from existence and I just couldn’t care), The Darkstars #24. Also skipped: all of the Zero Month aftermath gimmick #0/soft reboot issues.

New Year’s resolution when it comes to DC? I’ll get around reading the 70s Green Arrow and Green Lantern book. Ever since I found some academic paper on it that mentioned the words environmentalism and malthusian I was like “ok wtf I have to read this”.

Tytyty for reading my blog.

#actual blogging #comic book reading blogpost #mmmm yes continuity fuckery

[sofreddie]

Scent from Above 2

Summary: The morning after.

Characters: Alpha!Jensen x Omega!Fan!Reader

ABO BINGO: Daisies/Fresh Bread/Pine

Word Count: 1,672

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Scenting, Scent Bond, Smut (Use of condoms, Knotting), Mentions of Marking/Claiming/Mating, Fluff

A/N: Attention thirsty bitches...get your cups ready. : ) Each part of this series will feature an @spnabobingo square.

PART 1

Jensen woke with a groan and a stretch. As he moved, he felt another warm body beside him. He cracked open his eyes, seeing Y/N in his arms, neither of them having moved from the night before. He wasn't sure what to do as he watched her sleeping.

Should he wake her?

Should he try to crawl from the bed and let her sleep?

He quickly remembered that she was in heat as she shifted to her back. Her scent struck him, drawing him in once more, his nose drifting to the scent gland in her neck.

He breathed deeply of her, musing on her scent. There was something flowery, like daisies. Something warm and rich, like fresh-baked bread. He breathed deeply once more, catching the earthy undertones of pine. Each layer brought on a feeling of home and warmth and familiarity.

After a few minutes, he decided that maybe he was being a little creepy, and maybe he should try to occupy himself until she's ready to wake. So he carefully removed himself from the bed and ordered breakfast via room service, not thinking it wise for them to be apart or in public in their conditions.

Jensen took a quick shower and dressed in a t-shirt and track pants just in time for the food to arrive. As he removed the lids and the aromas filled the space, Y/N stirred awake.

"Good morning," Jensen beamed at her as she shuffled into the main seating area of the suite.

"Morning," she blushed at him, running her fingers through her tangled hair. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her and he silently reminded himself it was only the beginning.

"Are you hungry?" he offered, gesturing to the cart, "I didn't know what you liked, so I got a little of everything."

She smiled warmly at him, "Could I take a quick shower first?" she asked, noting he already had. He nodded and silently guided her to the bathroom, watching as the door closed behind her.

He was absolutely not going to think about her naked and wet behind that door.

As he heard the shower turn on, he realized she didn't have a change of clothes with her. He quickly dug through his suitcase, finding another simple t-shirt and pants. He went to the bathroom and knocked on the door lightly, but there was no response. He took a deep breath and cracked the door open just enough to place the clothes on the counter before quickly shutting it again.

Jensen had started digging into the food by the time she came out. Her hair was down and damp, her face free of the makeup she had been wearing. His clothes draped her frame and the Alpha in him felt proudly possessive.

"Thanks for the clothes," she said as she sat on the couch with a respectable distance between them. She was nervous, not sure what to expect, and distracted herself with breakfast, "I'm in another room here," she explained, "Just a few floors down."

"What room? I'll have them send up your stuff."

"What? No," she protested, "I'm perfectly capable of getting my own things."

"It's not such a good idea to go anywhere," he began hesitantly, "And I'm not really sure I could handle it if you did," he added bashfully.

She was surprised. As she showered she thought about the events of the night before. How could she not? She was sure he would politely tell her it was a mistake, it was his rut, anything really to back out of it. But here he was, seemingly still sure.

They ate in relative silence, exchanging smiles and giggles between bites of food. They were both trying to ignore the fact that their biologies were ramping up once more, their urges becoming prevalent.

"Come here," Jensen softly spoke as he tugged at her. She went willingly, letting him guide her to straddle his lap on the couch. He buried his nose in her neck once more, humming in satisfaction as he took his fill of her. She scented him in turn, slowly allowing herself to believe it was real.

He placed a wet kiss on her neck, making her moan. He did it once more, teasing the tip of his tongue and her hips involuntarily ground down against his.

He was so very hard and so very there.

A moan slipped past his lips and Y/N shuttered. It was the most erotic sound she'd ever heard and she felt a swell of pride at being the one to bring it from him. She did it again, slowly and more purposefully this time, teasing them both.

"You want that, Omega?" he breathily asked as he ground up against her core, his hands squeezing her hips.

"So much, Alpha," she replied, before kissing him hard. Jensen responded eagerly, opening his mouth for her as she introduced her tongue. He moaned again, her hips now steadily working against him.

Their clothes were quickly shed, each piece being thrown without care as they bared themselves to one another.

"Condom?" she asked bashfully as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Jensen blindly retrieved one, his face buried in Y/N's breasts as he licked and sucked at her supple flesh. He held it up to show her, still preoccupied. She chuckled and took it from him, opening it with her teeth.

"Wait," he said, finally lifting his head from her chest to meet her eyes after she rolled the condom down his shaft, "Don't you want me to-" his fingers strayed to her core and she shook her head adamantly.

"No," she breathed, "Just you."

She shifted her hips and sunk down on his length with a long moan. His arms wrapped around her back, holding her tightly to him. The breath was punched out of him. She surprised him, he wasn't ready. But at the same time, he was so fucking ready.

Hell, he was ready to take her and claim her in the alleyway last night.

After they both adjusted, he loosened his hold, keeping his arms securely around her. She pulled back to look into his eyes as she began to move, sliding slowly up and down. Her jaw dropped open, the sensation of his thick girth pushing and stretching against her walls amazingly perfect.

Jensen almost couldn't stand the intensity, the intimacy of her gaze. This was quickly becoming the sappiest moment of his life and he couldn't complain one bit.

"J-Jay," she breathed out, adjusting her hips to a new angle and pressing her chest against his. His eyes fluttered closed at the sound of her calling his name. He groaned and went straight for her neck. After a good long scent, he opened his mouth, licking a line before clamping his lips down to suck a dark mark.

She cried out, her hips jerking, and he thrust up in response, sucking harder.

"D-don't claim me," she stuttered, riding him hard for the both of them.

"Not this time," he reluctantly agreed with a smirk.

He wanted to. God did he want to. He knew she was his and he was hers. But he also knew that she needed time to adjust. That she wasn't ready. That she wanted it but hadn't fully let herself believe it. He'd give her all the time she needed.

She panted as she rode him and he thrust up into her. He couldn't get the angle or speed that he wanted. And he wanted to be deeper. With a frustrated snarl, he wrapped his arms around her and dropped her on her back on the couch swiftly, still buried inside her.

She gasped and he plunged hard, knocking her body up the couch a few inches.

"Yes!" she cried out desperately, her nails digging into his shoulders. He growled and gave her all he had, riding them hard through their highs.

His knot popped and his teeth ached as his eyes locked onto her pulse beating rapidly beneath the taut skin of her neck. Feeling himself lose control, he turned his head, biting down into the couch cushion and growling as he emptied himself into the condom.

His teeth didn't release the pillow until his body calmed and he felt the urge pass. He immediately buried his face in her neck, lapping against the dark purple mark he'd left earlier, his mind letting him pretend it was his claim.

They spent the next few days in much the same fashion until her heat and his rut had finally passed.

"Stay just one more night with me?" he asked as she came out of the bathroom in her own clothes. Jensen ended up having her things delivered after all, "My flight's pretty early in the morning. But we can spend one more night," he pleaded, his hands on her waist as she shouldered her Winchester Bros. branded weekend bag.

He didn't miss the opportunity to playfully rib her over it either.

"I can't, Jay," she pouted. She had quickly adopted the nickname for him and he was thrilled with how comfortable she grew around him in such a short amount of time. He did his best all weekend to show - and say - just how much he wanted her and how sure about them he was.

"If you let me claim you we could take Mate Leave," he grinned.

She playfully slapped his shoulder and scolded him, "I just want both of us to be totally sure before making such a permanent commitment," she said for the umpteenth time that weekend.

"Next time then," he joked, wiggling his brows, "I stole one of your shirts, FYI," he added, blushing, "I think I'd go insane if I didn't have your scent around me."

"I guess that's okay," she said, "'Cause I took one of yours too," she looked to the ground bashfully. He laughed before cupping her face and kissing her hard.

"We'll find a way to see each other soon," he promised.

PART 3

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@fangirlxwritesx67

RPF:

@smoothdogsgirl

JENSEN TAGS:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

@slamminmine

@deanjensenficsandart

@woodworthti666

@charred-angelwings

#spnabobingo #alpha!jensen x omega!reader #jensen x reader #scent from above #part 2 #smut #a/b/o dynamics

[troped-fanfic-challenge]

TROPED Madness: Chopping Block

Four fics were written following a Theme of [Action/Adventure], including the Tropes of [Character gets badly injured and then...] and [Cliffhanger], and with a Character Focus on [Gaia or Julie]!! Voting determined which authors will continue on as our TROPED MADNESS FINALISTS!!! Four (4) something witty action/adventure fics this round, but, unfortunately, not everyone something witty to move forward in this challenge! In this round, two of our authors are on the CHOPPING BLOCK!

We want to say a big thank you so much to all the authors who participated, we are so happy you decided to be a part of TROPED Madness 3.0, and we hope you'll join us again for our Chapters Event, which will be officially announced soon!!

Reminder to our finalists, please do not reveal your Qualifying Round fics until you are Chopped! This competition remains anonymous until the Troped Madness Champion is revealed!!

The Authors who have been Chopped are:

@willexxmercer

i could be your perfect disaster

QR | Rated T | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos | 3.1k

Summary: He knocks. For a moment, Carlos thinks no one will answer. Just as he’s about to give up and return to his partner, the door squeaks open, revealing a young man around Carlos’ age with dark hair and the most gorgeous eyes Carlos has ever seen in his life. He swallows, trying to remember why he’s there. “Hello? I’m Detective Reyes with Austin PD,” he states, taking in the way the man’s posture turns defensive. “Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?” Or: a murder isn't the only mystery Carlos is trying to solve

the cold never bothered me anyway

R1 | Rated G | Golden Sun | Piers & Mia | 3.3k

Summary: The air is impossibly cold.  As Piers takes one wobbling step, then another, clutching his cloak around him and shivering against the frigid air, he can’t help but wonder how on Weyard he got himself into this mess.  His entire body aches and he can feel the pain blossoming in his side but still he presses onwards, his gaze fixed on the lighthouse stretching towards the sky at the horizon.  With the snow billowing around him, rarely settling on the ground, it’s difficult to even register where he’s stepping. Or: Mortally injured, Piers makes his way to Imil, where Mia can help him. After that, it's only natural to fall back on their adventurous ways

—————————

@wwjacksparrowd

The Charred Chophouse

QR | Rated T | A Series of Unfortunate Events | Klaus & Carmelita | 4.3k

Summary: Fourteen years after leaving the island with his family, Klaus is perfectly content with his ordinary, low-profile life as a college professor. Of all the people from his old life, it's Carmelita Spats who shows up to drag him right back into danger. Naturally.

follow the heart i believe in ('cause in the past it's done me so good)

R1 | Rated T | The Witcher | Jaskier & Yennefer | 3.8k

Summary: "And why didn't you just go to Geralt with this and move on with your life?" Yennefer asks wearily, pinching the bridge of her nose. Jaskier scoffs at her. "I am not speaking to Geralt again until I get an apology from him. I still have some self-respect, thank you very much." "So you're going to risk your life protecting his adopted daughter instead?" "Jesus, I want him out of my life and I want him to suffer. I don’t want his kid dead.” "But you won't talk to him?" "Self-respect, Yennefer." “...You need to take a good, hard look at your priorities." (Six months after Geralt breaks both of their hearts, Jaskier and Yennefer find themselves in the strange position of being the only people who can protect Ciri's secret identity as a vigilante superhero.)

All fics for this round, and all future Madness rounds, can be found here! To the remaining Madness Authors, we hope you’re excited for the FINAL ROUND, which starts TONIGHT, March 23rd, at 12:00am (EST)! Please be sure to check our Google doc for theme and trope explanations! Good luck, and happy writing!!

xox - S&B

#troped madness 3.0 #troped: madness #troped madness: chopping block #troped madness: round 1 #round 1: action/adventure #author reveal #troped: multifandom

[slashyrogue]

prince charmont and one eye mayhaps? if you're in need of a prince?

You know I actually have a WIP of them I started....two years ago? It’s A/B/O, and Char is the omega. There’s a whole tournament for his “hand” and yeah this made me remember it. I can share some here. 

***

The need to obey was so strong for an omega and something Charmont had been fighting all his adult life. He'd presented as Omega when he was fourteen, an arranged marriage contract broke all at once for the princess's parents would not "have her marry such an abomination." Omegas were almost always female, it had been nothing short of miraculous when he was one, and the strange need that he'd felt even before coming of age made so much sense. He avoided most alphas after that, including his own father, which made his parents' deaths that much worse the following year. Uncle Edgar came at their funeral, hand on Char's arm, and said something that burned right into him till today. "You'll be good, listen to what I say, and let me help you. Won't you Char?" From that day on he lived in a cloud of obeying. Whatever Edgar asked of him he agreed to, waving to crowds and becoming "Prince Char" to the masses while nightly fearing that he would forever be doomed to a life as a caricature of the real person he could have been. But he could not stop himself from fearing to resist. Then his uncle had an idea to bring a partner to him. "A tournament?" Edgar had clapped his hands together, "Yesss! It will be the biggest event the kingdom has ever known! Alphas from around the neighboring kingdoms will come to compete! Whomever wins all four stages will have your hand!" Char resisted the urge to vomit then, swallowing back his anger at the idea of being a prize to be won. Perhaps this would be a good thing, a guarantee unlike his first arranged marriage where an alpha came because they wanted him. But would they want him or the poster prince Uncle Edgar had made him into? He had nodded his assent, patted his shoulder and praised, "Good boy," before rushing off to make plans. Charmont spent the next few weeks watching the posters and signs up that read, TOURNEY FOR TRUE LOVE, his picture beneath. He scented more and more alphas in the crowds when Edgar paraded him out to "salivate their salacious sensibilities." Char looked out at the crowd only to see nothing but lust and leers. He dreaded every day the tourney grew closer, though the very morning it was to start he opened up the balcony doors and scented something odd in the air. It was most definitely alpha, but as he had hated the scent before now he longed to get closer. Char smiled, suddenly lighter. Perhaps he would find his true mate today.  He dressed quickly in a light tunic knowing Edgar would no doubt have him change before the event began in an effort to entice. The moment he entered the dining hall he noticed that Uncle was not alone. There was an alpha beside him, the man had to be at best twice Char's age if not a bit more than that. He had silver in his hair and a pompous look about him that spoke volumes. "Uncle, you did not tell me we were having a guest." The alpha only now seemed to notice Char, a long leering look making the omega's skin crawl. "Charmont, this is Prince Reynard Dragonite," Uncle stated, as the prince grabbed for Charmont's hand, "He will be winning the tourney." Char laughed as Reynard kissed his hand, "I would expect such boasting from every accomplished alpha coming today." Uncle Edgar tittered, patting Char on the head in a demeaning gesture that made him tense. "Oh no, no, no! He is going to win, we will see to that." Char looked at the two men, a sudden thought of the good smelling alpha among the crowd being subjected to whatever dastardly scheme these two men were thinking of making him ill. "Cheating?" he pulled back his hand and saw the sly alpha smile turn into a glare almost immediately. "Char, Char," Edgar purred, standing and almost forcing him to a seat, "Not cheating, merely...helping a friend." Char looked to Reynard again, the alpha's amused grin making him want to throw his plate in the man's self satisfied face. "One cannot have too many friends I suppose," Char said softly, his hands tightened into fists. Uncle Edgar laughed and patted his shoulder, "Spoken like a true ruler!" The rest of breakfast was like a chore, each bite of his morning porridge tasted like poison though he swallowed as much as he could.  He was swept off after finishing to be readied and "made handsome" by a number of servants who treated him like a living doll. They squabbled over clothing him, suggesting colors and fabrics without any need to ask his opinion, mostly ignoring his words when he tried. By the time they were finished and Char was looking in the mirror, he had to admit they'd chosen well. He was wearing almost all white save for a touch of blue in his trousers and jacket, the stitching so ornate that it sparkled in the sun. His hair had been styled to exaggerate the curl of it, framing his face nicely. "Thank you." They all bowed and scurried away, some not even able to look him in the eye. He was grateful for that as there would be several thousand people soon he'd have to pretend to be happy around, he'd rather not have to start so soon. There was a loud horn blast outside, an obvious start to letting the alphas towards their areas of start. He started to walk out of the room when suddenly a scent stopped him short, turning to see the most frightening man he'd ever encountered in his life. The man was scarred, missing his left eye entirely, and his imposing stance screamed predatory even as he moved very slowly he moved with purpose. "I will scream, I..." The scent hit him all at once, melting any sort of resistance and bringing Char closer. "It's you?" The man stopped just short of touching, inhaling Char's scent and shuddered at being so near. "How did you climb without any notice by the guards?" The man reached out and touched his cheek, Char leaned in to his hand nuzzling against it wildly. "This is," he was so warm and the scent so intoxicating that Char was loathe to move away but a gentle knock startled him out of what felt like a drunken haze. "I must go," he had tears in his eyes, "You won't win for it's all an act with an already decided end. Please do not return for I cannot fathom the thought of losing you after indulging in any more than this." He rushed out, trying to keep his composure as he let the maid who'd come to fetch him so her job. "Prince," her nose wiggled, "You smell as if..." Char cursed, shaking his head and turning back inside thankful that the one eyed alpha had gone, though his scent still lingered. The maid had followed, her blushing cheeks as she used oils to help him hide the scent making Char smile. "Thank you, Missy," he kissed her hand, "I don't know what to say." She shook her head, "Your secret is safe with me, Prince." Char squeezed her hand once and straightened his clothing, taking a deep breath preparing to head for his fate. "I'm ready."

#asks #valhalla enchanted #old wips #alpha beta omega #true mates #hannibal extended universe #sneak peeks #mowgliscode

[bbyx]

ripple effect - part eight

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry

“You’ll never guess what happened today.” Ron says, hurrying to catch up to you as you enter the Great Hall for dinner.

“What, Ron?” You say amused.

“We think Hagrid fancies Madame Maxine.” 

 “Finally found a woman his size huh.” You grin looking at Hagrid in his mismatched suit fumbling next to Beauxbaton headmistress.

“ Who do you reckon the Goblet will pick.” Says Harry, materialising beside you.

“ Krum for sure.”

“ B-but what if he gets injured, he’s the best seeker!” Ron stutters, turning pale.

“ You should come sit at the Slytherin table if you wanna meet him so bad.”

“Yeah right. They would slit my throat before dessert.” Ron scoffs.

“Suit yourself.” You say before splitting up to your respective tables.

“My mother wants you all to know that you’re all invited to the Malfoy’s New Years ball, as always, and she’s sending out the official invitations next week.” Draco says, sipping on his pumpkin juice. 

“ Oh my god! I think Astoria is finally old enough to attend her first ball. Do any of you already have a dress?” Daphnees exclaims, turning to you and Millicent.

“ Balls are boring, the only fun part is the after party.” Theo says stifling a yawn.

“(y/n), I hope you don’t mind, but my mother’s already picked out a selection of dresses for you. I tried to stop her but,” Draco says, his ears turning slightly red.  “erm she wouldn’t listen. Anyways, she’s sending them over as soon as heavenly possible.” He finishes, imitating his mother’s posh voice.

“ That’s fine, your mom has a good eye for clothes anyways.” You smile reassuringly.

You and Draco had been each other’s dates for formal events ever since you could remember. It was just easier, not having to worry about finding a date. And (y/n) also knew that  Narcissa Malfoy would have loved to have a daughter and that shopping for (y/n) brought her so much joy.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Dumbledore. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

The flames in the cup turned from blue to red and silence overtook the hall. It sputtered and a charred piece of parchment flew out.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” Dumbledore read, in a clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.” 

All the Durmstrand students jumped up cheering in foreign languages and patting Krum on the back. 

“Bravo, Viktor!” boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. “Knew you had it in you!” Viktor stands up, his lips slightly upturned and goes to the chamber.

The silence comes back when the Goblet starts sputtering again.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!” 

The remainder of the Beauxbaton students were absolutely devastated, some of them even crying. The other students were too busy ogling Fleur to cheer. She graciously slips into the other chamber.

The whole room is practically shaking with excitement as the cup starts sputtering again.

Not Nick please.

“The Hogwarts champion,” Dumbledore calls, “is Cedric Diggory!” Every single Hufflepuff jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly. He winks as he passes by you, making your heart melt. The applause for Cedric seemed to be neverending. Even Draco gave in and started clapping.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called happily as the cheering died down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —” 

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking. The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. Another paper popped out of it. Dumbledore looks perplexed.

“Harry Potter.”

The entire room was looking at Harry, who looked shell shocked. For a split second, your eyes meet. “Harry Potter!” Dumbledore calls again. “Harry! Up here, if you please!”. Slowly he stands and awkwardly waddles to the top table. “Well . . . through the door, Harry,” said Dumbledore. 

“It’s always bloody Potter. How did that fucking pinhead manage to trick the Goblet.” Blaise says venomously.

“ He’s Dumbledore’s little darling, that’s how.” Draco says, his jealousy leaking through each syllable. You were about to jump to Harry’s defense but decided against it, not wanting to start more conflict.

“God, the Hufflepuff party is gonna be wicked. Allison Odgen’s in Hufflepuff, Ogden as in Old Odgen’s Firewhiskey and I heard that she’s got two whole crates of firewhiskey just for tonight.” Theo says, musing.

“ I heard a couple of seventh year Puffs stole a shiton of weed from the Greenery too.” Milicent adds.

“What party?”

“The one for Cedric, duh” Daphne says while wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Oh. In the common room?”

“No, at the bottom of the lake.” Theo answers sarcastically. “C’mon let’s go before it gets too crowded.”

“You guys go ahead, I'll be there soon.” You say crestfallen, as your friends hurry out of the Hall. (y/n) had been looking forward to finally spending time alone with Cedric. He was supposed to show you around the Hufflepuff common room but you had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen because of the party. After a while, you find yourself alone in the gigantic Hall, which is a very eerie feeling. The candles had burned low and shapes were flickering on the stone walls. The silence makes your ears ring and you decide to just meet Cedric at the party when a voice makes you jump. 

“So,” said Cedric to Harry, with a slight smile. “We’re playing against each other again!” 

“I s’pose,” said Harry. 

“Harry! Cedric!” They both jump, not having noticed you in the dark hall. You run and grab Harry in a hug.

“Harry! What on earth happened?”

“I didn’t put my name in!” He desperately shouts, his voice cracking.

“I know, I know.” He gazes at you for a couple seconds, making sure you believed him.

“Do you want me to come to the Gryffindor common room with you?” 

Harry takes one look at Cedric’s clenched jaw and your worried face. “No it’s fine. I’ll erm see you tomorrow. Enjoy yourself tonight, we’ll figure it out in the morning” And with that he leaves.

“No hug for this champion?” Cedric says pouting.

“Of course!” You say, throwing yourself against him. “I’m so excited for you.”

The golden flickering lights of the dying candles made his lips look even more inviting than usual. The Hall that had looked so daunting minutes ago, now looked like a safe haven. His grey eyes are fixed on yours and he slowly leans in. You close your eyes, feeling his hot breath on your mouth when someone coughs loudly. Your eyes flicker open while Professor Moody limps out of a dark corner.

“P-professor!” You croak.

“You are just like your mother, Miss Deauxville, coercing well raised boys into doing your dirty work.” You look at him, mouth agape. “As for you, Mr.Diggory, I suggest you stay away from these types of women.”

Cedric looks like he’s about to pounce on Moody, but you grab his forearm.

“Ced let’s go.” You say softly, while Moody stands there as if daring Cedric to hurt him. You try pulling him away but he’s far stronger and heavier than you. Finally he gives in to your tugging, puts a hand on your back and leads you out of the hall. The two of you walk in silence. 

“Cedric” You say, grabbing his hand. “It’s not a big deal, let it go. He’s just a psycho old man.”

“It’s not about that.” He mutters, staring ahead. 

“What is it about then?” You say as you near the Hufflepuff common rooms. The hallway was vibrating with the beat of the music playing inside. 

“It’s about the fact that he interrupted our kiss.”

Cedric brings his hands up to your face and flashes you his blinding white teeth. He leans down and barely pecks your lips before the door of the common room swings open. 

A drunk Ernie Mcmillan stumbles out and you see Cedric’s eye twitch.

“Ayyyy it’s Dedric Cigorrry. The whole house s’been looking for you Cigarette.” He manages to say before vomiting the contents of his stomach in a nearby barrel. You and Cedric move past him and enter the common room. The place is decorated in an embarrassing amount of posters bearing Cedrics face, Hufflepuff banners hang from every corner and music is blasting so loud that the furniture shakes slightly. 

“I promise I will show you this place when it’s not trashed.”Cedric manages to say before a mob of girls in yellow robes swarm him. 

“Cedric! We organized all of this!” The leader says motioning to the group of girls and the posters of his face. 

“Er wow. Thank you so much.” He flashes them his million dollar smile. The crowd forming around him was making you claustrophobic so you go sit with your brother and his friends. 

“Aren’t you going to congratulate him?” You ask the boys who are sitting at a large round table in the corner. 

“Yeah of course, once the fan club’s done.” Graham says, his eyes focused on the paper he's cutting. 

“We’re having a blunt rolling competition.” Xavier says motioning to the dried leaves on the table. 

“Aah, can I join?”

“No. You can be the judge.” Your brother says.

“You’re such a narc Nick.” You say while pulling out a chair.

A clearly fucked up Jeremy laughs. “Nick the Narc. That’s funny.”

You moved around from friends to friends during the most of the night, but the only presence you craved was Cedric’s. He was surrounded by people congratulating him but finally he broke free and headed to the table with his friends. You make a beeline towards his, leaving Daphne on the dance floor. She doesn’t notice, she’s too busy dancing her heart out with a group of Hufflepuff girls. All the boys hug him and he’s smiling like an idiot. 

“Ced, have i evver told you-” Jeremy starts slurring but he stumbles forward. “Alohaa” He throws his hands up and start swaying.

“Cedric, man! You’re gonna win this thing I have a feeling.” Nick says ruffling his hair.

“What d’ya want.” Graham says motioning to the different baggies on the table.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having.” Cedric says motioning to Jeremy who was swaying back and forth with a paper bag on his head.

“(y/n) wanna have a shotgunning contest. If you win you can have my shoes. If I win you have to kiss me” Peregrine says holding a tray full of firewhiskey shots.

“Why would I want your shoes?” You say, glancing at his black tennis shoes.

“I dunno.”

“Fine, let’s do it.”

Graham starts lining up the shots, seven each.

“ My bet is on Peregrine, physically he stands a better chance.” Xavier says with all the authority of a rocket scientist.

“You have no clue how much the Deauxville’s can drink then.” Nick says, nursing his own drink.

You give Peregrine a competitive smirk. “Three, two, one, go!”

When shotgunning whiskey, the first three shots are always the hardest. The first burns your throat like you’ve just swallowed a big gulp of salt water. The second one, if done fast enough, numbs all sensation in your mouth. The third one is when most lightweights die off, it sends electric shocks through your body. After the shock of the third one, all the others seem dull. The faster you go the more time you’ll have before the alcohol in your blood reaches your brain. After that your vision will start clouding and you can maybe manage two more before you’ll collapse or hurl your brains out. Luckily for you, Peregrine dies off after your fifth shot and stumbles to a nearby basket.

“Learned from the best.” Nick says proudly. Cedric’s mouth is agape.

“Wanna go again?” You tease when Peregrine comes back. 

“Christ! You’re good” He says taking his shoes off and throwing them at you. You catch them easily. 

“Nick pass the weed!” (y/n) hollers at her brother. 

“Yeah Nick, don’t be such a weed hog.” Cedric says. 

“Nick the Hogweed student. That’s funny.” Jeremy says muffled by his paper bag. 

You take a moment to look around the room. You had to give it to Cedric, the Hufflepuff common room was beautiful. The high ceilings had copper lighting fixtures that sent golden light through the space. The walls were full of hanging plants and the floors were covered in plush mismatched carpets. Soft couches and wooden tables were scattered around the room. At the moment the room was full of Hufflepuff students, a handful of Ravenclaw and the eternity of  the Slytherin population of Hogwarts because they would rather die than have a Gryffindor champion. You spot Theodore and Draco on a nearby couch. Some blonde sixth year girl is eating Theo’s face. Draco is playing with the thick rings on his fingers not paying attention to Pansy’s storytelling. Milicent is part of a group of students sitting on the grand piano, singing furiously along to the lyrics of the song. Blaise is too drunk to notice that the girl he’s flirting with happens to be a very tall plant. And Daphne is dancing with Hannah Abott. You do a double take. Daphne is now kissing Hannah Abott.  

The kissing reminds you of the interrupted kiss between you and Cedric. You sneak a peek at his lips. Just then Xavier drops something heavy in the middle of the table. It’s a deck of cards in the middle of the table.

“Strip poker!” Peregrine shouts excitedly.

“You wish.” 

“I’m the card dealer.” Graham says, grabbing the deck.

“Xavier you forgot the poker chips dumbass.” Graham says.

Xavier sighs “Yeah, couldn't find them. It’s okay though, we can use-”

“Shoes!” Peregrine says, toppling his drink on the floor.

“Peregrine, I have your shoes.”

“Oh well fuck, i’m on team (y/n) then” Peregrine says.

You motion for Draco to come sit because he’s the best player you know. He sits and rolls his eyes at the shoe idea but agrees to play. 

“Well boys, start saying goodbye to your shoes.”

Two hours and 11 pairs of shoes later, most of the partygoers had cleared out. You were glad to find your white sneakers still clad to your feet. After the game had started, so many people joined but you and Draco were the only ones still wearing shoes. He had fared better though, with 15 pairs of shoes. 

The air in the common room was thick with smoke, the music had stopped except for some Ravenclaw playing his heart out on the piano. (y/n) is lying on a couch with her head in Cedric’s lap, her feet on top of a sleeping Jeremy. Theo as usual was nowhere to be found and you suspected that Daphne was in Hannah Abbott’s dorm. Blaise was still relentlessly talking to his plant, the boy could talk about himself for hours on end.

Cedric plays with your hair.

“I’mm tired.” You slur lazily.

He chuckles.“(y/n) you can’t fall asleep here.”

“Whyy?”  You pout up at him.

“Because Nick already looks like he’s going to hex me.” You blow a strand out of your face and turn your head towards your brother. You sigh, not wanting to create new tensions between you and your brother.

“Blondie, take me homee.” You holler at Draco.

“Gladly.” He says helping you up. 

You throw Cedric his shoes. He dodges your clumsy throw that was heading straight to his face.

“There you go Cinderella.”

“Goodnight (y/n)” He chuckles.

(y/n) and Draco are walking down a dark hallway illuminated only by the pale moonlight, your footsteps resonating. You stop in your tracks.

“Draco, I've just had a brilliant idea.”

He doesn't answer, just raises his eyebrows.

“The shoes. On the… fuck whats it called. The big light thing?”

“A chandelier.” He sighs, shaking his head.

“Yes! Chandelier. We hang all the shoes on the chandelier in the great hall.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

“ God I don't know! You’re supposed to be the smart one.”

He sighs deeply, but takes your hand and starts walking towards the great Hall.

When the two of you were done, they’re were 26 pairs of shoes hanging on the chandelier. From sneakers to dainty ballerina flats. 

“The chandelier looks so much better now, see? We should do this to all the chandeliers in our houses”

“I’ll make sure to tell  my mother to keep it in mind.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Finally,” Draco says looking at his thick silver watch. “It’s 4:38 am.”

“No point in going to sleep then.”

“You’re insane.” He chuckles, catching you as you stumble forward.

You smirk devilishly. “ I just can’t wait to see everyone’s face at breakfast tomorrow.” 

#cedric diggory #harry potter #draco malfoy #hp and the goblet of fire #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x reader #cedric x you #cedric x reader #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x reader

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 9

The Slaying of the Bobbledragon

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Since slaying a serial-killer dragon is a little outside the party's expertise, they're off to Cauterdale to enlist the aid of the Deathseekers' Guild! Having gotten a good night's sleep at a druid village, and not eaten, they're ready to take on, uh...

Well, some sort of very large monster that Zero kindly drew for me.

In the morning, they rather uneventfully get up and get back on the road, thanking the villagers for their hospitality. And the remainder of the trip to Cauterdale is likewise brief and uneventful, right up until the fire.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: the what Benedict I. (GM): The fire.

Yeah, the forest and the road up ahead are ablaze, sort of blocking passage. The dirt road isn't actively on fire, but the trees on both sides are, making it pretty risky to proceed. The team opts to send Oyobi up ahead to scout the situation- and pretty soon she comes back with a report. Apparently, just past the visible fireline, the forest is totally burned down- just charred stumps as far as she could see, right up to the city walls. The fire itself is just, like, 10 meters wide or so, so it's totally something they could just dash through.

It takes some Animal Handling checks to coax the giraffes through, and the ones that balk get them and their riders a little bit of chip damage from heat and smoke inhalation, but the party is pretty much able to push through to the blasted wasteland of charred tree stumps surrounding Cauterdale.

They notice a few people in strange armor in the distance, doing something near the fire- from the seemingly controlled nature of this burn and the name of the town, they conclude that those are fire squads doing this deliberately, and don't get involved. It's a fine conclusion, and the party begins walking the remaining mile to the city.

As they approach, they notice... a little ways off from the main gates, something is attacking the city walls. Guards atop the walls are manning some sort of huge harpoon guns, and they seem to have already slain several of the... whatever these things are. The remaining one, though, seems larger and more resilient than the others, continuing its assault despite the several harpoons already lodged in its flesh.

What they see is a huge reptilian monster. It's probably not a dragon- no wings, and it doesn't appear to be using a breath weapon- but it's the size of a dragon, with tiny arms, headbutting the metal walls of the town repeatedly.

Orluthe makes his Nature roll to recognize this thing- he's heard of them before. They're called "bobbledragons"- some sort of deformed mutant offshoot of true dragons, incapable of speech or flight or magic but still possessed of monstrous strength and durability.

Luckily, the bobbledragon doesn't seem to be in between them and the main gate- the fight is far enough away that they could potentially just walk up and head into town, assuming they'll open the gates during a situation like this. Hell, they don't even need to open the gates- if the guards just drop a rope, they should be able to just climb over. That seems like a decent plan, so Saelhen and Looseleaf begin working together to draft a use of the Message spell to ask the guards to help them inside.

Then they notice that I've been moving Oyobi's token on the map in the direction of the fight.

Oyobi, blinded by bloodlust and/or extra-credit-in-Severe-Zoology-lust, is determined to help fell the bobbledragon. Their attempts at persuasion fail, and Oyobi, undeterred, continues to charge the giant fucking T-rex that is making huge dents in the walls of a city.

As Oyobi runs for it, and as the party follows behind in hopes of stopping her from making a terrible mistake, the bobbledragon jumps and seizes one of the guards on the wall in its jaws, demonstrating its +10 4d12+7 bite attack by immediately oneshotting its victim.

Looseleaf: oh god we're all going to die. you're using the real t-rex statblock. that thing is challenge eight. it is made for a party of four level eight adventurers, so either we are all going to die here, or the guards are going to show us why they are professional fighters and we are students. Benedict I. (GM): "Shit! It can jump!" "No!" The guards seem upset.

Not promising.

Looseleaf: This thing does sufficient damage to oneshot any of us with a perfectly mediocre hit. Looseleaf right now is kind of thoroughly convinced that Oyobi is actually literally about to die. In that light, Looseleaf is going to message Oyobi again. And she is not going to get any closer. Actually, she's going to back off, put distance between herself and the monster. [Oyobi that thing is going to bite you in half get back here you are going to die.] Benedict I. (GM): Roll Persuasion! DC 20 again. -Looseleaf: 17 / PERSUASION (1)- Oyobi Yamatake: [I'M GONNA LIVE FOREVER!!!]

So... that's a bust, and Oyobi finally reaches the dragon and begins her assault. Miraculously, her flying leap hits, and she digs her sword in... for thirteen damage.

The guards return fire against the bobbledragon, and one of the harpoons catches it in the chest- but it doesn't go down, and the second harpoon- manned by just one guard, after his partner got crunched- misses. Another guard, without a cannon, throws a spear- and gets not only a critical hit, but a max damage critical hit, spearing the thing right in the eye.

...for eleven damage, because these are ordinary CR 1/8 Guards, but still!

Saelhen tries to distract the bobbledragon so Oyobi can run and hide, but... her arrow goes wide, and Oyobi isn't interested in running and hiding anyway. The bobbledragon, targeting whatever did the most damage to it recently with its bite attack, jumps and bites the whole damn harpoon gun out of the guard tower, leaving the guards without heavy weaponry.

And then with its tail, it tries to slap the insect that just stung it in the rear.

...and rolls a 3, meaning Oyobi gracefully backflips over the attack and strikes a dramatic pose.

Looseleaf: God, she did not deserve that dodge. She got so fucking lucky there. Saelhen du Fishercrown: she really didn't Oyobi Yamatake: "When you get to Dragon Hell, tell them Oyobi Yamatake sent you!!"

Looseleaf, in the interest of communicating to Oyobi how much danger she's in, makes use of an upgrade to her Rend Spirit attack she learned while studying Lumiere's notes on pain. With Painread, she can get some feedback back from something whose spirit she disrupts, and figure out exactly how bad a shape it's in. She does so (dealing a cool 16 damage as she does), and learns how huge this thing's remaining hit point pool is, so she can tell Oyobi how unlikely she is to survive long enough to take it down.

...It, uh, it was already pretty hurt when they arrived, and it, um, has nine hit points left. And it's Oyobi's turn.

Oyobi Yamatake: Oyobi dashes forwards, Naruto-runs up to the T-rex's throat, and does a spinning leap that slashes open its jugular. It roars, and the roar swiftly fades off as its breath escapes. Saelhen du Fishercrown: God dammit, Oyobi. Oyobi Yamatake: "YES! YES! B-S-U! B-S-U! B-S-U!" "THAT is how it's DONE!" She is jumping up and down, doing a celebratory dance, the works. "Flawlessed the boss! Hell yeah!"

Yeah, so... I had kind of been planning on her getting oneshot and laid up in the hospital, as a sort of character growth thing and also keeping her out of the way of certain events in town, but, uh... the dice... didn't exactly... share my priorities.

With the bobbledragon slain, and Oyobi doing an extremely obnoxious victory dance, the rest of the party springs into action to stabilize the guard who was used as a chew toy. Thanks to his plate armor, he hasn't lost much blood, but he's got more broken bones than not, and his prognosis wouldn't be good... if it weren't for the healer's kits Looseleaf had the foresight to buy for everyone. Saelhen stabilizes him, and Orluthe calls on his goddess to Lay On Hands to save the guard's life.

Then there's this guy- the captain of the guard, who fought in the battle with a fancy crossbow that shot flaming bolts. He demands to know who the party is, seeming kind of annoyed that they rewarded weakness by saving the guard's life.

Benedict I. (GM): He looks down at your medical kit. "Y'know, all of my men are prepared to fight and die for our home. You really want to take away this man's glory?" The injured guard looks up. "Uh, sir, I- it's fine, actually..." "Feh." Looseleaf: This guy immediately seems like a bad boss. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Oh, he's ridiculous. Okay, that changes the tenor of this conversation somewhat! "...I apologize, sir," says Saelhen, bowing to the guard on his stretcher, "if I have diminished your victory with my carelessness."

And rather than give this guy any more of the time of day, Saelhen asks the random guard his name. (And then I have to give him one and make him a character, whoops.)

Medd Cutter here is thankful for Saelhen's assistance saving his life, and Saelhen pledges to remember his heroism. The commander feels- by design- somewhat left out of the heroism-remembering, and declares that he is REX SCAR, and Saelhen kind of blows him off. He's not happy, but...

Captain Scar is still the sort of person who is very impressed with anyone who rolls up and kills a bobbledragon just because they felt like it, and despite Saelhen's calculated snub, tries to get buddy-buddy with the group of obviously very powerful people who just arrived. He decides to help them through customs without going through the usual processes, much to the chagrin of...

...Long-Tongue, Cauterdale Customs and Border Inspection Officer of Cauterdale, who's very loquacious and wordy and redundantly repeats what she says in different words to phrase things differently in a somewhat unnecessary fashion for no real reason. Rex bullies his way past her, but Saelhen- as another snub, and just to be... nice? (What's her game...?), hands her the 300-page history of the de la Surplus family as collateral for a deferred border inspection.

Inside the walls, Cauterdale is a very crowded place. It's like 80% slum, choked with buildings constructed of a patchwork of scrap metal and discarded siding, without much wood to speak of. The streets are narrow and bustling, and the general vibe around the place is impatient.

The remaining guards escorting them (Rex went off someplace) inform them, when questioned, that the town indeed burns down the forest around them- since they're near the jungle, horrible dangerous things tend to come out of the trees to attack them, and their harpoon defenses are most effective when they can see their attackers coming from a mile away, with no obstructions. Looseleaf asks if bobbledragon attacks are common.

Benedict I. (GM): Another guard shakes his head. "No, that one was pretty crazy. Usually it's just the giant spiders, or the giant mosquitoes, or the mushroom demons." "We've had a few bobbledragons before, but that was like, four at once." Looseleaf: "Oh gods there's already giant spiders?!" "We're not even at- I thought this was a pine forest still!" Benedict I. (GM): "No, that's usually after it rains," Medd says. Looseleaf: Looseleaf casts Druidcraft. Please tell me it's not going to rain. Benedict I. (GM): Nope! Clear skies for now. "Whoa, cool." Looseleaf:"Thank the gods of sea and sky and weather and everything even tangentially related to weather," she says. "No rain." "I hope it never rains, ever again." Benedict I. (GM): "Haha, better stay away from..." "Wait, where are you headed?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "The rainforest," adds Saelhen, mildly. Looseleaf: "Ttttthunderbrush, and yes I know that place is crawling with spiders NOERU SHUT UP,"

Then Looseleaf asks about what they're there for- the Deathseekers' Guild. Unfortunately, the guards tell them that the Deathseekers... probably still exist, but they're like, a weird secret club of old people who think they're too cool to join the guard. They give them a couple leads- apparently the Temple of Andra keeps tabs on them, and also a guard by the name of Mags was the last to see them as they were recently seen leaving the city.

The team splits up- Looseleaf and Orluthe head for the temple, and Oyobi and Saelhen head for the guardhouse to talk to Mags. (Vayen... is still gone, after vanishing as soon as the bobbledragon fight started.) The latter group does their thing next session, so...

After dropping off their rental giraffes, they head inside to meet...

This guy, working the reception desk. He seems to be made of rock, and when he talks he rumbles.

As Looseleaf explains their dilemma and their need for Deathseekers, this guy takes a keen interest in their plight. He's very "hmmmm, iiiiiinteresting, oh i see, you don't say?" about the whole thing, making a very normal interaction seem as ominous as possible.

He tells her that the Deathseekers, to his knowledge, should be back in the city from their unspecified errand inside two days, and offers to take a message.

Looseleaf: "I don't suppose they're looking for a green dragon, are they?" Benedict I. (GM): This guy's smile keeps getting wider. It's kind of creepy. "Hm? What makes you say that?"

As she explains about the dragon, he offers her and Orluthe a candy from a bowl on the desk. After some hemming and hawing out-of-character because the creepy rock man is offering you suspicious candy, they eventually opt to have some, because really, Looseleaf isn't suspicious of this guy. Hers is lemon-flavored. It's tasty.

Then, as she describes the empty tower with the corpse of the torture wizard in it, this guy's demeanor changes suddenly from "creepy wry amusement" to "genuine concern". He tries to put on a poker face, but him having a poker face when he's until now been all creepy-friendly chewing the scenery... stands out. He gives her a strong assurance that the Deathseekers will handle this problem for her.

Benedict I. (GM): "I... thank you, for this information." Looseleaf: "You're welcome. Please, uh, make sure that the Deathseekers get this information as quickly as possible. The dragon eats a corpse a week and there's only three corpses left in the tower, there's a very real deadline on this." Benedict I. (GM): [rolling 1d20+4] (Insight) 17+4 = 21 Looseleaf: Belatedly, Looseleaf realizes she's made a mistake. Benedict I. (GM): "You say... the dragon eats three corpses a week?" "Only three corpses left in the tower?" Looseleaf: Namely: Looseleaf has no good reason to know the fact that the dragon eats a corpse a week. Since she's never met the dragon. Benedict I. (GM): "Curious information." "How did you come across it?" Looseleaf: "Uh, erm, uh." Shit.

Looseleaf opts to tell the truth about Arnie, to avoid spinning a dangerous web of lies for herself- after all, Arnie's not worth lying for. She does describe him in as sympathetic terms as she can, though, and asks this guy not to harm him if possible- she doesn't want to break her word to Arnie if she can help it.

Benedict I. (GM): He takes a moment to process this. "...Very well." "My people will be the soul of discretion." "I thank you very much for your generous contribution to the Ecumene of Understanding."

Looseleaf notices that something is wrong.

This guy is the receptionist. He's not a bishop or anything. He's not even wearing priestly vestments- just a nice suit. And he's speaking as though he's in a position of power- "my people", he says.

And after considering various possibilities, she tries something. A shot in the dark, but...

And the way Looseleaf plays this, is... "quit acting like you don't know what I'm talking about, c'mon, the jig is up". She takes out the letter she found in Lumiere's tower and shows it off, as proof!

And this guy keeps denying it, and getting increasingly more panicked, and looking nervously over at Orluthe, and asking her to please stop, shh shh shh shh, and it's when he begs her to have a conversation with him in private please that she makes the connection. If this guy is affiliated with Lumiere, who's apparently affiliated with some sort of secret conspiracy that's affiliated with some sort of deific usurpation... he maybe doesn't want to have that conversation in front of a cleric.

Looseleaf:"Okay, Orluthe, uhm. Sorry, so," Looseleaf whispers into Orluthe's ear. "Long story short, turns out my sister, who left my village way before I did, ended up falling into some kind of magical secret society. The kind of secret society with Hal Lumiere, i.e. 'the torture wizard who came up with all those pain knives that we all got stabbed a lot with', was apparently a very active member of." Benedict I. (GM):Oh my god, um. Looseleaf: "So, uh, I'm kinda freaking out about that, right now, but if my hunches are right then I'm the sister of someone important in their organization?" Benedict I. (GM): As you start whispering, he tries to interrupt. "Please do not say things to him!" "Please let us speak in private!!" Looseleaf: Oh he's freaked out now huh. "Anyways that's why I am actually indeed going to speak, with this guy, in private," Looseleaf finishes. "And if I don't show up in a half-hour or so, then things have probably gone lopsided." "In which case you should find everyone else and tell them to, I dunno, come save me or whatever." "You got all that?" Benedict I. (GM): The rock man looks distraught. Orluthe Chokorov: "I, uh... think so? This is really... I'm not sure it's safe..."

With a good Persuasion roll, Orluthe agrees to stay behind, and the rock man leads Looseleaf into a backroom whose doors and walls seem warded heavily with some sort of abjuration magic. A secret saferoom.

The man describes the problem: the gods don't know that they exist, or didn't until Looseleaf went and told a cleric of Diamode that they existed. Clerics, in this setting, channel divinity literally- their gods come into their heads to do magic for them, meaning anything a cleric knows is something a god can know, if they care to check.

Benedict I. (GM): "Because if the next time Diamode is in that kid, if she goes looking for that memory..." "I mean, she might not. And you didn't mention anything about our aims, so she might consider it beneath her notice." "But that, right there? That was nearly game over." "And I can't just kill you, because if I did, Yomi would end me." Looseleaf: "Yeah, I'm not incredibly foolish, I haven't actually shown anybody else Yomi's letter." "Nobody knows that Lumiere was involved with... deicidal blasphemy." "That's what this is about, right? Thereabouts, in terms of sheer magnitude and hubris?" Benedict I. (GM): He sighs. "It's not like that." "At least, it's not all like that." "The Project is... fractious." "The less you know about the project, the less you're able to carelessly blurt out about the project your cleric friends, or to anyone who tries reading your mind or tricks you into a Zone of Truth..." "The safer we all are." "With as much as you know, you're already dangerous. It'd be best for us- and you- if you dropped this. Never spoke of it to anyone."

Looseleaf points out that it's good that she found the letter, because that tower was sitting abandoned for a year- anyone could've walked in and read it, since it was lying on a bookcase in the open.

This is somehow not taken as good news- when he finds out that the letter could've potentially been read by anyone, that there was a security breach for a year...

Looseleaf: "Look, my man, next time you want to send a letter, by the way, use... use some encoding." "Don't just write things in plaintext like a chump, by the gods." Benedict I. (GM): "He was supposed to burn after reading." Saelhen du Fishercrown: he's too dead for that! Benedict I. (GM): "Wait, you said it was... out in the open?" "But he's dead?" "Either he was an idiot, or... someone else opened his mail." "Except... Yomi should've hand-delivered it, so..." "...well. We'll definitely look into it."

He brings up sending for someone to do memory magic to handle the breach- but he realizes he can't have that done to Looseleaf, because Diamode would notice if someone tampered with her cleric's memories, and someone needs to still know what's up so they can keep Orluthe away from the truth. (Plus, she figures she'd notice the inconsistencies and end up sleuthing it out again.)

Looseleaf asks if Yomi is doing well, and gets... that she's intense, and powerful, and she probably thinks she's "doing well", but... he doesn't know about happy.

Lastly, he shows Looseleaf a symbol- a blank circle, with the elvish character 人 drawn underneath. The symbols of gods are typically circles with a design inside- so the meaning of this and its relationship to the nature of the Project is fairly easy to infer.

Benedict I. (GM): "If you need to prove to someone you're in the know, without blurting out a bunch of dangerous details, this is the mark." He then eats the paper and the graphite stick he used to draw it.

Next time: Saelhen and Oyobi grill the guard Mags for information on the Deathseekers, and connections are made with powerful individuals.

#tfj log #twofaced jewel

[intearsaboutrobots]

hello jude, i know i could have asked you that on discord, but i want you to be able to Ramble On Tumblr if you want to (and if you don't you can just ignore this, but sometimes i personally very much want to ramble on tumblr) - how did you find (out about) Friends at the Table? (i also know you have a sideblog for that but shhhh)

mmm oh gosh.. i dont actually remember how i found them? i was on kind of an actual play kick, it was like.. 2016-17 thereabouts, and i listened to a LOT of actual plays. i remember starting it when i was listening to tm.a s1-2 on repeat (bc it was in my shitty apt where the park i locked my bike up at was full?? of spiders?? so EVERY MORNING my bike was covered in spiderwebs and i had to clean them off while listening to SCARY STORIES)!

[[READ-MORE]]

i do remember like, one of the moments that Solidified it for me tho, in s1 (autumn in hieron), the party comes upon this little house in the icy wilds, and theres a lil goblin man in there. and in this world like, ppl r prejudiced against goblins. so the partys paladin asks austin the gm if he can roll essential a wisdom or perception check to understand that this is just a regular little goblin man and this is his little house and it's nothing nefarious, and austin responds w smth like, "well like as a black guy, if me and my friend go into a store and the owner like, follows us around bc he think we're gonna steal stuff, would a wisdom check make him realise that hes wrong?" and they had like a discussion abt it and id never heard ppl talk abt games that way!!! like i think thats when i knew this show was a special thing id never heard before and that i loved it

and since then ive been really impressed w how they are always growing and improving? like, from counter/weight where cass is mostly he/him-ed instead of neutral pronouns or alien pronouns (i mean thats partly bc they didnt hav apostolos worldbuilt sm yet) (and millie now is an apostolosian w she/her pronouns but thats like a conscious choice for the char whereas w cass it wasnt) and now they've had like multiple nb pcs and npcs and some of them use neopronouns too, and how theyve hired a disability consultant this season, and theyre the only podcast (to my knowledge) that PAYS their fan transcribers, and like it just feels like they're really committed to their ideals and to improving!!

i still remember like how i felt when i listened to my first patreon livestream, it was the skeletons one in october of i think 2017, in my shitty apt, and it just felt so like, close and nice, and at some point they just put a song on and we listened to it quietly and like, it was such a cool experience. (its sad that now that i work weekends my arc w live shows is 1) get a notif its on while im at work. feel sad 2) maybe get off work while its going but i dont wanna join in the middle OR restart and b outta sync w the chat 3) now too many bad feelings r attached to it and i can never watch it)

anyway yeah i lov friends at the table a lot and i think abt ali bringing herself to tears describing wrestling events from yrs ago so often what a blessed cast, and in the newest clapcast when everyone's like ":oo oh hi jess!!" i got so ;;-;; its just so sweet!!!

#friends at the table #also jack writes q poem During an episode gdjdkfkf for xp #and its a BEAUTIFUL POEM THANK U JACK #this show is kind of not like anything else like it does sm things that like #i havent felt in other shows #if u want to find peace wqtch the ol streamfrie.nds lp of mmm some car game #where austin and janine go on a road trip togeth3r in the game #its so good

[obutsuwrites]

Play with Fire (dabi x reader, pt. 1)

Summary: “You summoned the fire demon Dabi to feel up his horns?” This brat. xxx basically fire!demon dabi smut that's a 2 parter coz i'm gross :3c smut is in part2~!

words: 1,777

my ao3 for more shitposts

my inbox b open 4 requests~!

She was positive this time the ritual was flawless. The wooden floor displayed various burnt circles, all failed attempts. Drawing a perfect circle required practice. The task took longer due to the woman’s poor eyesight. Each circle had been abused for her ritual. Flecks of spice decorated them. Squinted eyes observed the shape. A smile plastered across her face. Yes, this was it.

Without haste, the young woman began to prepare the circle. Spices and herbs sprinkled around the scorched area, candles set in an outer half circle. The website had dictated no less than six inches between the burnt circle and the candles. A measurement the woman abided by. She was never one to stray from the usual. A strict woman.

It was the woman’s craft that led her to this. She was a minor pyromaniac. Blazes would send the flesh on her arms into euphoric goosebumps. The delight almost aroused her. She felt like she could devour the flames and become one. A hot exchange of fire and flesh. That thought aroused her. Fire licking at sensitive flesh; her face flushed with pleasure.

She squeezed her legs together. Thoughts pooled against her; the moist fabric of her panties noticeable. The woman had stumbled upon the site by accident. Her nightly viewing consisted of the occult and found footage of infernos. The woman’s interest in the occult was merely a hobby. She had heard hushed whispers speak of despicable flame demons. Monsters that used to ravish ancestors. Originally, she had assumed them to be rumors. However, the woman’s hunt for knowledge had gotten the better of her.

☼

The website looked like it was out of ‘97. Poorly animated neon graphics decorated the page, the cursor a tongue-in-cheek broom. In big circle letters read the site’s title: ‘Occult for Dummies~!’. It was almost cute. A website obviously made by a student for some web design class. She had chuckled at the thought. Curious fingers clicked the first graphic: ‘How to Summon Him~!’.

Him?  

Tired eyes tried to decipher the page. Foreign symbols and phrases were sprinkled through the article. The article was confusing. As if the summoning of a demon was science. As if it were real. She clicked off the page. A tidal wave of sleep washed over her.

☼

‘How to Summon Him~!’ had faded into obscurity. The woman’s mind consumed with the routine of suburbia. Job, go home, sleep. A schedule of mundane. However, a particular event revived the memory.

It was Friday. Promises on the weekend were a privilege for her; a much needed break from the conventional pattern. Normalcy was a bore for the young pyromaniac. Habitual work peppered in with sleep was tedious somehow. This is why infernos excited her; their chaotic, violent nature. Brilliant oranges and reds popping against kindling. The aroma of smoke invoked a sense of peace within her.

She was headed home. The traffic backed against the mid-afternoon sun. Heat pressed into her back, the woman seeking relief from a rolled window. Bored eyes scanned the road before, no stop in sight. She sighed. A soft sound stuck in the humid air.

Seeing it had caused a lump of excitement to form in her throat. The woman’s eyes stuck to a blossoming cloud of obsidian. A fire’s threat against the horizon. Air rushed from her lungs; the organ now starved for oxygen. The woman anxiously glanced around, traffic still thick as syrup.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Wobbly legs escaped the vehicle, trembling hands fumbled with the locks. Arousal mixing with sweat. The sun beat against her. The woman’s face ablaze from embarrassment and exertion. She shuffled to the sidewalk. An inferno awaiting her. Passion budded in her chest. The smell of smoke was an aphrodisiac. Legs carried her in search of the blaze.

Eventually, whiffs of smoke evolved into the asphyxiation of smog. An audible moan echoed into the black cloud; the sensation of choking was erotic. Helpless.

Before the woman stood the ancient, smoldering bones of a building, the inside reduced to charred bits of wood; phantoms of a house. Fire no longer raged inside. Little orange sparks against dying embers. The woman sighed. She never quite arrived early enough to see a fire in full force. Hungry flames that engulfed man and structure.

‘Occult for Dummies~!’ ‘Learn How to Summon Dabi: the Demon of Cremation!’

☼

“Okay, now I need… Oh fuck, yeah, I need the paper,” the pyromaniac thought aloud. A scrap of paper somehow hidden among the mess of soot and herbs. After furious digging, the woman found it. She had scribbled the phrases that were necessary on a scrap of singed paper. Abuse from failed attempts had reduced the sheet to a palm sized remnant.

Archaic words sprang forth from the woman; the evoking of a chant.

☼

Oh my fucking god. Jesus Christ. What the fuck?

She awoke from a daze, joints aching from an uncomfortable position. Her hardwood floors offered no support. The woman blinked sleep from her eyes. Had… had she fallen asleep again? Anticipating a myth?

Doubt settled in the pyromaniac’s chest. Perhaps, she did. Fucking stupid. The woman stood up, feet smudging soot. She didn’t quite remember turning off the nights or… how stupidly cold it was. Goose flesh prickled against the chill. Moonlight cast into the room; a faint LED 61 the only other light source. An awkward laugh echoed from her. Right. Sixty-one.  

Frigid hands reached blindly against the wall. Light flooded the modest space. Tired eyes noticed nothing suspicious. The scrap of burnt paper was simply that charred. Blackened ash sat underneath the occultist instruction. Her eyes lingered at the soot. It felt wrong. Soot had not… Had not been there before.

An exasperated sigh escaped the woman. Nothing would get done with such needless paranoia. The very idea was ridiculous. No stalker or crazy neighbor would break in, only to leave a slip of paper in embers. Who would just burn one piece ? Such a pathetic sliver of paper would require kindling. No inferno wasn’t complete without kindling.

☼

No light filtered through the blackout curtains; the young woman instead experiencing the shrill sound of an alarm. Negative ASMR. Sleepy hands fumbled in the darkness, eventually disarming the alarm. Stale breathe expelled into the room. The woman’s body still trapped in sleep. Muscles slack against a willing body.

“What… What the --”

Before she could finish her muttering, a foreign raspy voice resounded through the door. His true tone muffled from the wood.

“Gonna let me in?” He sounded bored. As if it was a usual activity to break into a single woman’s apartment and stand menacingly behind her bedroom door! This guy is a fucking pervert. Quick. Quick. She sat up; her body thrown into survival. I have scissors! Adrenaline filled legs carried the woman to the bathroom, her legs quivering from fear.

A rough knock broke her concentration. Blunt scissors were poised in her grip. The woman now adequately prepared for an intruder.

“I know you’re in there. You move like a mouse.”

The man’s tone held a hint of annoyance. Obviously, her reaction was inordinary.

Soft footsteps thumped through the room as she attempted to move quietly. Action movies taught surprise attacks. Hot breath was forced from her lungs. Her chest felt ablaze. The desperate sounds only fueled her anxiety.

The woman found her voice. “Get the fuck out. I mean it. I -- I have a fucking bat, asshole!” She waved around the scissors, trying to emulate bravery. Perhaps, he would buy her bluff.

“Little bit of a brat. Oh well. Your loss, I guess. I was summoned by you anyway,” the mysterious man replied, a throaty chuckle muffled. A sarcastic undertone in his voice.

Summoned?

“I summoned you? What the fuck are you talking about? Are you mentally deficient?” she mocked, a trembling hand against the cold door knob. The woman’s doubt mirrored through the warped brass.

Anxiety shot up the woman’s spine as she felt the knob jiggle. Horror ate into her belly; the woman paralyzed with fear.

“You’re not the pyro that started all those shit circles?” he asked.

Shit circles?!

The woman turned the knob. The wooden door ripped open, scissors in hand. “Listen, asshole. You can’t break into my home and tell me how shitty it is!” The words boomed from her tiny frame; the woman hopelessly dwarfed by the stranger in her living room. “It took me fucking hours.”

She noticed his skin first. A tapestry of pale flesh and charred remains, stitched together by staples that glistened in the moonlight. Electric turquoise eyes watched her. A stoic expression bore into his face. Messy strands of obsidian framed his face; a distinctive pair of horns sprouted from his head. Miniature goat horns coated in the same obsidian with specks of dull blue. Silver mismatched earrings hung from his lobes, the man’s only garment a pair of black shorts.

“Holy shit. Are you okay?”

The scarred man’s gaze didn’t falter. “No wonder. You barely summoned me.” His eyes traveled down her form. The scissors stayed to the woman’s hip. This man was mentally unhinged.

A laugh erupted from the woman. No fucking way. NO fucking way.  

“I know what this looks like,” she said, a free hand gesturing to the various ashened circles that decorated her floor. No getting the deposit back now. “I had a mild fire. It’s fine now. Uh, are you drunk? Were you at a con?” She had to admit the horns looked hyper realistic. As if they were an organic part of him.

“No. Don’t you listen? You,” he pointed to the woman, “summoned me.” The mortal before him was a brat. Her behavior was unbecoming. She should be worshiping him, begging the fire demon to wreak havoc.

The woman’s brows pulled together. A pensive quiet overcame the two. Lack of sleep was apparent. Fuck. What was a question to ask him? ‘Hey Dabi, those horns a prosthetic?’ She racked her brain to conjure the next step from the article. A crucial aspect she had neglected to write down.

A trembling hand reached up and grasped the man’s horn. The appendage felt solid. Craftsmanship was obviously a concern. She rubbed the horn, a soft vinyl met her touch.

“These bad boys real?” The question rushed from her mouth; the woman not realizing how crass she sounded. An urge to tug on them crept into her.

He smacked her hand away. A stern look now painted on his face. First, a stupid brat summons him. Now, she’s fondled his horns. The man felt insulted.

“You summoned the fire demon Dabi to feel up his horns?” This brat.

#dabi x reader #bnha #demon au #quirkless!au

[the-nysh]

At what point in the story you started liking Garou as a character? What was his first impression on you and how did it changed later as the story progressed?

Oooh! What a GREAT question, I’m so glad you asked! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ (Cause yes, my perceptions of him certainly did change over time! And that’s one of the fun things I love to see happen with other opm fans too.) So let’s see…*pulls up a chair and shovel to dig thru nearly 5yrs of archives* where to begin~

It was definitely a gradual process (so buckle in, this is gonna be a looong chronological trip thru memory lane. About 3500~ words!)

First impressions

Early on (and cause I’m skeptical to most new characters who I don’t ‘know’ yet), I remember feeling kinda like ‘huh? Who the heck is this guy? This wannabe Hiruma-lookalike (recognizing some of Murata’s recycled Eyeshield 21 char design elements for him) with some silly double Vegeta hair? The hell does he think he’s doing??’ Beyond being kinda incredulous about him, I honestly didn’t really give him much passing thought or attention either, and definitely not anything on a deeper level yet. He was just kinda there (I suppose?), but also out there forcefully (cockily and somewhat annoyingly?) inserting himself as the ‘villain’ into the story at times (which wasn’t really my thing), seemingly WAY in over his head with reckless antics and overambitious about what he was claiming to be and challenging himself to do (which I thought seemed both ridiculous and ironic to set up like that when characters like Saitama exist to directly check/refute his aims).

So at the time I wasn’t fully ‘on board’ or invested much in his story/concept yet cause I hadn’t really seen him…define himself (beyond those first impressions) into his own fleshed-out character. Because he still kept reminding me too much of other characters (I even heard him with Hiruma’s voice) rather than breaking out on his own. Murata’s early art also had yet to really evolve and settle him into his own distinguishable ‘face’ for that matter too (he would though later, when he’d draw ‘Garou’ recognizable as himself and not like…‘Hiruma’s shadow’ anymore). So with all that coming in, it’s hard to ‘see’ or genuinely ‘like’ a char at first when they haven’t done much yet to distinguish themselves from others and grow into their own. (Oho, how time will tell~)

This impression of Garou hadn’t really changed much and continued all thru the Metal Bat fight, by the way. (I actually caught up to the manga around the time Murata introduced MB with the centipedes and was about to start his fight with Garou. Events which weren’t on my highest priority to see either, cause I still mostly preferred seeing Saitama + Genos interact instead.) But on a surface level, I at least knew Garou was fun/impressive to watch and his excitable/feral energy was infectious and entertaining (Murata really knew how to hype him up too), but other than that, I’d yet to really ‘like’ him on his own (enough to talk/blog about) still.

I first eased into reblogging stuff with him back in Oct 2016, which included the first reblog of his back muscles (lol) appreciating how Murata drew him facing Watchdog Man so ksjggh that part of the story (when Murata was teasing their fight) was also when Garou starting having a presence on my blog. :O

First turning point

However, I distinctly remember the first ‘aha I see now’ point in understanding him better was when I did a second reread of the webcomic. (I don’t exactly remember when that was, but probably sometime during the tournament arc when the pace was kinda dragging, so I prob reread the wc around then for fun.) It was around early-April 2017 when I later admitted that (in the tags):

I’ve come to really like Garou, a second read of the webcomic made me fond of him, of his background and ideas he wished to set out and change, his heart was in it and he had his set of morals, but he was young and brashly took the wrong path, I really want to see him return someday now that he's learned better

Cause following the big webcomic reveal at the end of his arc (when Saitama calls him out), going back thru his entire story again you could totally spot all the consistent hints and signs (from both his backstory and actions) ONE sprinkled the entire time, making everything revealed about him true, and not suddenly sprung up outta nowhere. It was finally like ‘aaah, I understand what’s up with him and can sympathize where he’s coming from. Yes that makes sense. :O’ However, this clarity/acknowledgment had yet to shift from simply ‘seeing’ or understanding a thing as knowledge, to actually feeling it (connecting on a deeper/personal level) later. That’ll remain a big distinction.

May 2017, I first started writing some early meta break downs about him, starting with his end-arc parallels in Suiryu’s despair moment and from this, there was acknowledgement how all ONE’s manga additions (up til then this was still all tournament arc stuff) were only building further context towards what’s to come much later on in the webcomic.

June 2017, I started posting stream coverage about him (vs Watchdog Man stuff when he intercepts King and Saitama.) Around this time I also admit this kinda stuff in tags ‘goodness how I love that this nerd has a soft spot for that kid (truthfully he's not monstrous at all)’ for appreciating the manga’s wholesome extra Tareo moments.

Second big turning point

Around Sept-Oct 2017 was when post content/stream coverage kinda started exploding during the whole vs A/B heroes + shed fight. This whole sequence, following the tournament arc, was the first big long-awaited return back to the wc’s script (with style!), but with significant expansions (esp to his character) never seen before. In particular, the bullet shielding moment was changed/revised from him simply standing there in the wc, to Garou protecting Tareo in the shed.

Truly awesome and moving because dang, he selflessly put his life on the line for that ‘Garou the determinator fending off the impossible while protecting a kid ;o;’ Firmly standing up to (injustices) and revealing his solid moral core, like wow, what a guy. <3

Murata’s stream output picked up significantly back then too (compared to his slower pace drawing the previous arcs), so I also admitted: ‘gosh been cheering for Murata's hard work just like Garou's in-chapter determination!’

But also cause this whole fight was like the first actual, legit demonstration (shown, not told) of Garou’s prodigious fighting skills, intelligence, tenacity, resourcefulness, perseverance, etc. Like this is what he’s actually capable of when pushed to the brink; testing the actual quality of his character (showing his true colors) and allowing those merits to shine while under unfavorable, difficult, and desperate conditions. And all impressively done in a way to make the audience both believe it and root for him (presented from his side much like a protagonist? Wild! 8D) It was extremely thrilling and badass (truly that whole shed part was brilliant, narratively and spectacle-wise. As I’ve repeatedly gone back to write about many times and again. :’D) My impressions of Garou around this time:

yoooo boi see I really like Garou, the wild prodigy determinator with a misguided goal, going all out and demonstrating his talent and prowess (even tho he gets in over his head), PROTECTING CHILDREN WHEN HE PRETENDS HE DOESN'T CARE, omfg what a softie (as Saitama would say) :'D, yaaa see he was never a 'real' monster at all, Saitama can see straight through him, and what he REALLY wants to achieve

Dec 2017, first started getting some sporadic Garou anons after the whole epic manga spectacle vs Genos + Bang + EC fight with everyone.

Jan 2018, back when Garou was captured in the MA base and then left to his own devices above ground…things started getting really interesting. Including noticing ONE’s more careful (or perhaps more transparent?) approach to writing Garou’s manga portrayal this time around. Different and more nuanced from the wc for instance, so there were many fascinating contradictions and complexities to uncover (break down meta-wise) about his convictions, beliefs, thoughts, feelings, and how he applied those thru his actions and behavior (revealing decisive acts of character). This was when @gofancyninjaworld also started joining in to discuss and explore Garou’s ongoing dilemma with his goals and mindset. “His heart is in the right place, but his means are not, because at his core, he’s not a monster.” I admitted ‘Garou’s one of the most well-written characters in the story, I feel.’ And I was really looking forward to all the significant changes ONE was doing to make his manga story all the more defined and cohesive than it already was in the wc. That made things extra engaging (when there’s a desire to look deeper into things for fun and excitement for more).

Third turning point

Feb 2018 Oooh man. It was around here, (when Garou saves Tareo from the bullies and confronts RR and Bug God) that I was really starting to feel that shift happening (the impression of him turning into something more), so I had to comment on his ongoing characterization presented thus far (budding into a well-rounded, 3 dimensional character) and how ONE was (re)writing him in a more personal, sympathetic light that made him so easy to root for and genuinely likeable. I was fully AWARE of this happening and what both Murata and ONE were doing to increase his appeal. Admitting the more they revealed of him the more I was falling deeper for him, and fully welcoming it by narrative design. (Like alright let’s goooo! 8’D) Cause it was obvious how much differently and expansive he was getting portrayed vs the wc (with much less moral ambiguity). I said:

“Garou’s not simply a rogue, prodigious teen going on a spiteful rampage with an overconfident, slasher smile. Consistently, he’s been shown what really makes him tic: what gets him serious, passionate, sincere, and desperate – things that force his hand to either fight or defend against, with standards and ideals that he’d put his life on the line for. All of it is great: a variety of expressive emotions and definitive acts of character that all build towards the whole. Which we’re then left to ponder exactly what that is. Is he truly a villain or a hero? Is he really a troublemaking bad guy or actually a misguided ‘nice guy’? The answer isn’t so black and white; it’s more like a mix of ALL of the above. And I LIKE that. As ONE has presented him, Garou is Garou, and not really someone to align or classify as simply one or the other. He’s in that kind of delicious gray zone where he’s getting put to the brink to show his true colors. And it’s so GOOD and refreshing to see.”

That plus the manga showing his deeper bond with Tareo, his gruffly protective qualities (ok but that’s kinda hot?) and a more sincere showing of his morals (which he refused to budge on no matter what anyone else ordered him to do), brought on all the feels. :’)

Stream coverage + ch commentary devolved to like unintelligible screaming, with some ‘man he’s so fucking cool,’ or ‘damn protective Garou’s SOO good,’ or ‘I swear the more Murata draws of him the more I fall for him like wtf,’ or even the flat out ‘GODDAMMIT MURATA ;A;’ types of suffering reactions, ahaha.

At this point I was all ‘bring on the Garou appreciation; he deserves it; I have a mighty NEED’ but was kinda annoyed/frustrated with the fandom cause there was hardly any recent fan content of him (relevant to his current plot progression, it was all suspiciously dry or old ship-related content I wasn’t interested in cause the plot had moved on, so I was like omg where is everybody, hello?!) It was already a dry spell in between seasons so overall fan content was slow anyway, but it seemed like there were so few actual fans of him (to my confusion?!) So I started making my own content (beyond just the stream coverage and ch reactions/commentary + meta) with the expression posts appreciation.

March 2018. U-uhoh, things (and posting frequency especially) were starting to escalate. His reaction to literally getting backstabbed by the monsters and losing Tareo (his quiet but seething controlled feral rage) definitely had me feeling™ things.

Final nail in the coffin

April 2018 Oshit;; Garou forcefully storming and bulldozing his way thru the MA base, his awesome BIG DAMN HEROES moment rescuing Tareo from Royal Ripper, to his hilarious absolute tsundere™ moment denying it (before running into Rover and immediately protecting the kid again) pretty much destroyed me. This was also like the first time I’d seen ONE make a character go full tsundere mode and pull it off in a genuine comedic way (with the classic ‘it’s not like I came here to save you or anything baka’ line and all) so pfft, that was so much endearing icing on the cake. :’D

At this point someone even asked me who’s my favorite opm character, to which I was all, ‘Garou’s current manga content has been on fire so he’s been quickly skyrocketing into my favs (if he wasn’t there already)!’

But then Murata soon dropped THIS ‘protect the child’ page all with perfect timing, and I was…fucking doomed.

'sugoi ojisan' was pretty much the moment of instant death for me ;A; my constant reaction to the streams has been that gaijin 4koma meme with laser heart eyes for emphasis, and I'm pretty much losing my ability to articulate much beyond screaming at this rate

Garou’s behavior could then be summarized as ‘a very stubborn and in denial asshole tsundere little shit nerd. <3’ But there was classic ONE heartwarming irony in there too, cause Garou hadn’t fully ‘lost’ his battles either…during those critical times where he actually assumed the role of the ‘hero’ for Tareo instead. (Oho~)  

basically Garou is a great character, the more you look into how ONE has built him the more meta af it gets

May 2018 (the long-awaited debut of the wc ‘scarf’ vs Rover towards Garou vs Orochi’s epic wtfshitstorm) lolwhoops~ I finally made the inevitable back muscles compilation while also writing longer, more in depth meta posts about him.

Murata delivered some of the best stream content we’ve seen of him. (Completely on FIRE, both literally and figuratively. And looking back, this was probably some of the most fun Murata’s stream sessions ever got. :’D Was awesome to be a fan tuning in during this time.)

even Murata was doodling chibis of himself freaking out in the margins XD

Delivering content from the pose of peak badassery…to dropping stream doodles of peak heartwarming/cuteness (Garou & Tareo in suits) on the fans for good measure.

bam Murata’s out to kill us with his art ...Murata can you like -maybe- chill? ABSOLUTELY NOT

Basically Murata knew exactly what he was doing, always delivering and servicing the fans (drawing the coke bottle was a fan suggestion too) yet also remaining a huge tease~

Towards S2 and beyond

June 2018, following the Orochi fight, Garou was put on a bus and absent from the manga for a while, so I went back revisiting older content again (rereading the manga for fun) and realizing/noticing/wondering stuff I hadn’t really caught about him before like…oh no why is he cute?? Was he always this way or had my eyes finally opened after everything??? (Cause aside from him being a little shit or a cool badass, he was also a complete dork and a nerd, and an oblivious dummy, and just…that was so…wtf endearing, a full package of fun to enjoy.)

But we soon got clips of Midorikawa’s voice reveal (from the opm drama cd) and all hell broke loose among the resident Garou fans. 8’D Especially cause his voice was ‘dark/smooth/mature/sexy’ as opposed to a higher-pitched, unhinged teen voice many had expected (remember that old Hiruma voice I first thought for him? So interestingly many fanboys were disappointed with this deeper voice casting). But also cause Midorikawa said “I’ll do my best to make Garou even more charming than before,” so we were excited to see Garou’s popularity spike even more cause of s2.

Aug 2018, the s2 key visual revealed with Garou prominently featured up and center and I WAS NOT PREPARED!!! I remember having like a full hyper-incoherent breakdown because of this so…yeaaaaah. 8’D I was all rationalizing,

If anything it’s all Murata and ONE’s fault that (the hype and appreciation for him) feeling’s grown even stronger. He was already a thoroughly fun walking meta source, but the manga made his softer/compassionate moments much more obvious (than in the wc). Just watch as this badass dorky nerd becomes even more hugely popular than he already is!

April 2019 was his anime debut…coincided with his post-arc WEBCOMIC DEBUT AFTER 5 FUCKING YEARS (before he even returned in the manga even) IMPECCABLE timing from ONE, holy shit people lost their minds. Including Murata, who had to draw him too! With all that and the anime airing (adding even more wholesome cute Tareo interactions not seen in the manga), fandom participation (+anons) really started to kick off.

I remember seeing the influx of new fans and how so many (who didn’t ‘know’ him yet either) would unironically label him as genuinely ‘evil’ or a ‘heinous villain’ at face value, which….uhhhhhh were the kinda takes that were hard to take seriously, but I appreciated how ONE’s writing allowed the readers to see and think for themselves as the narrative revealed more (rather than believing everything the characters said or claimed), so it’d only be a matter of time until they ‘saw’ the truth about him too. :’)

May-July 2019 the anime continued airing with fandom activity popping, until August when he finally reappeared and ‘awoke’ in the manga! ;A; After like an entire full year of him mia too. This was also the time frame when all the thirsty (and interestingly meta-hungry) Garou anons started (finding me???) regularly chiming in with fun participation. I was grateful though, cause they prompted certain takes I couldn’t have come up with on my own, and allowed me to think, examine, and explain things much more closely and thoroughly than I had ever posted before. (Yaaay~) Such as looking into just what IS it about him?!

“Garou wouldn’t be as compelling, engaging, and appealing as a character without (all) those other interesting layers and nuances to talk about too! :D It’s even better that way! Cause Murata can draw everyone looking drop-dead gorgeous and conventionally attractive, so just having a pretty face and impressive muscles isn’t enough to make him stand out in a special way from the rest of the cast. Already all those things (about him) are certainly impressive, so just what is it about him in particular? (That makes him unique.) The fact Garou has all that AND those other compassionate & interesting qualities to him just makes it the icing on the cake for a complete, well-rounded package. The fact we can know him, for all his feelings and attitude why he behaves and acts the way he does, such as when he’s contradictory, troubled and tsundere-like sometimes, to hardcore and badass other times, to softer and empathetic to fiercely righteous, protective and determined other times, and all portrayed in the way he’s capable of the range (and makes us feel) the entire spectrum of emotion too. …Like whoa (I could keep going but I’d be preaching to the choir at that point aha), all that only enhances what’s already there. In this way, I feel the Garou we’ve come to know by now is much more endearing and appealing than the one we were introduced to at the start. Because as he appeared then, he may have seemed like just another wannabe thug-of-the-week we might not have given much passing thought & attention to. But now…uhoh, you could arguably say he’s grown to the point he’s almost taken over the rest of the manga (within good reason!) by challenging our perception of who’s even the active protagonist. :O Who keeps us engaged and tuned in to see more. Buaha, just what the hell happened?! Now that’s quite the impressive feat from both ONE and Murata to create a character with a lasting impact like that!”

…So that’s what happened. :’D In my opinion, I feel Garou’s best moments where we (or really, I) got to know him better (shed scene, Elder Centipede aftermath, dine n dash, rescuing Tareo, all up towards his fights vs Rover & Orochi) mostly only happen until after s2 so… Since those were some of my absolute fav manga moments (which only enhanced my perceptions of him), those’ll be the moments I’m really looking forward to see animated in s3. But most of all, I’m hoping to witness some of that same ‘aha!’ gradual realization process happen to newer fans who come to appreciate him too. :’3

#Anonymous #replies #opm #garou #commentary #long post #(readmore pls actually work! ...i think it broke after editing it once) #anyway THIS took plenty of time to put together and relive/remember all those moments from years ago 8'D #how things certainly changed (and escalated!) but here's a breakdown of everything; enjoy~

[devilrising]

Fallen Draco, Pt. 13

This story is following a prompt set by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count (Part 13): 3,446

Word Count (Total): 42,096

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic), graphic battle scenes and injuries

***

24th April, 1998 (continued)

I stare at the little letters, horror gripping my heart. The man vanishes the line of writing with a flick of his wrist, the letters exploding into a thin cloud of red smoke. Willing myself not to show any sign of weakness, I draw my wand slowly from my pocket. But I don’t raise it at the wizard. No, instead I tap it against my wrist three times in quick succession. Harry’s head — or rather, Daniel’s head — whips up and around from the wall. His eyes focus on the dark blond wizard and his threatening pose, and stiffens. Then he relaxes, goes back to the corner he was studying, and does nothing. At least, he doesn’t do anything on the outside. I know that his brain is whirring at max speed right now, he’s just disguising his thinking by pretending to be thinking about something else. Hidden in plain sight…

My eyes turn the fraction they’d shifted back to the man before me, and I clench my teeth together to stop myself shooting off a spell. Firing anything prematurely could be the difference between life and death, and it’s not an odd I want to tip against me. The man takes a step forward, a malicious glint evident in his eyes despite the darkness. A smirk crosses his face a second before his lips move. Mind ahead of body, I duck for shelter immediately. My instincts must be working quickly today, as I take in the desk in front of me. I watch as the spell collides with wood, and I recognise it as Confringo when the desk is burnt and partially exploded. Scowling at the ashes and charred wood which remain, I grab my wand off the floor and rack my brain for a spell. Anything that could take this wizard down without causing too much damage. There must be something.

Grinning madly as inspiration strikes, I whip my head around one of the remaining legs of the desk and wordlessly cast. Two spells roll into the one, one invisible and the other leaving a dash of purple in its wake. Even if the man identifies the spells, my casting is too quick to dodge them. With my heart hammering, I duck back behind my shelter and listen for the impact. It comes only a second later; a dull thud barely heard over everyone else's shouts of confusion. Taking a chance that’s more Harry-like than myself, I turn to see if it’s worked properly.

Sure enough, the top of a dark blond head is visible on the floor. Harry—Daniel—catches my eye and tips his head sideways, asking for the spells used. The first is answered for him when the man on the ground tries and fails to scream at me. Daniel mouths “silencio” at me, and I nod rapidly before mouthing back “leg-locker curse”. He lifts his eyebrows, wondering how I cast those spells in quick succession successfully, but doesn’t say anything. Quiet settles over the office, and I scan the room for damage. The desk is scorched and some of the surrounding floor, but the rest of the room seems to be unscathed.

“Diffindo!” A flash of white light floods the room, and my eyes close with the intensity. I don’t get the chance to wonder who cast the charm before searing pain rushes up my arm. Tears prickle at my eyes and I cry out, voice hoarse. I grab at my right arm tightly, seemingly holding it together. I recoil when my hand comes into contact with a warm liquid. There is no other option than blood. Gritting my teeth against the horrible pain and forcing worries out of my mind, I construct a shield charm before a numbing one. The pain dulls, but I can’t bring myself to look at it. I swap my wand into my left hand, staring at the blank skin there, revealed beneath my torn sleeve. It takes a second to remember that I’m not myself, yet the absence seems really out of place. When I look up into the room the blood drains from my face. The witch with the short hair who had declared herself leader is at the head of the opposition, firing curses and hexes at the rest of the rescue team.

Harry is facing her head on, rage clear in his eyes. She’s the one who hit me. This mission has gone dreadfully wrong. Clearing my mind of panic yet again, I send off all the spells I know to block ill-intended ones from hitting more people. The witch scowls as she realises what I’ve done, but she doesn’t seem to know who did it. Her brows furrow and she tries to figure out counterspells for it. I’m glad that Finite Incantatum doesn’t work on the majority of them, as it gives Harry an advantage. He casts multiple jinxes and hexes, but the witch is very quick and blocks all of them with a menacing smile. Rage boils in my gut but I hold myself back, scolding myself for even thinking with my emotions for a second. That loses wars.

The door to the office suddenly bangs open, and my jaw drops. Two people stand at the entrance, wands raised and poised for battle. The witch turns to them and I feel glee settle in my stomach. One of our wizards must have contacted base. But the witch nods sharply and they fall in behind her. Or not. Now scowling instead, I shout out to the wizard still on our side. He turns to look at me—still protected by the wards I’ve put up—and I gesture to him to run to me. The wizard with dark brown hair makes a dash towards me, ducking behind the desk. Upon seeing that he made it safely, the witch shouts in frustration.

Despite the heavy spells that are protecting Harry, I’ve forgotten to put some up around the desk. One of the new wizards has noticed that, and sends a Bombarda flying at it. The desk explodes in splinters, raining down from the sky. I hastily set a shield up over the brown haired man, receiving a smile from him as his head is saved from the raining wood. Taking advantage of the stall in action, the ex-leader witch sends her own Reducto spiralling upwards. Blue light fills the room a second before plaster caves in, the ceiling falling down around everyone. Harry—Daniel! His name right now is Daniel—rushes to pull up a shield, managing just in time to avoid being hit. The wizard with dark brown hair isn’t so lucky, and a large chunk of plaster and wood falls on top of him.

His shouts are barely heard over spells firing rapidly at Harry and I, and we both strengthen our shields. Daniel runs to the trapped and injured wizard, struggling to move the rubble off of him. Not taking any risks, I leap up from where I am still crouched on the floor and fire spells at the three opposers. Arrows and flashes of white leave my wand, racing towards the strangers in quick succession. All of them are deflected and either fall to the ground uselessly or simmer out of existence. Scowling, I aim my wand and rack my mind for something that won’t be expected. I never get the chance to before spells are being shot back at me. Saying the first spell that comes to mind, I wrap myself in a bubble of yellow netting. It’s meant to reflect any spells used back at their caster, and has the advantage of being widely unrecognised.

The net absorbs the curses aimed at me, and I grin in success at the looks on their faces. I glance at Harry behind me and see him smirking as well, before his eyes turn to terror. I spin back around and see that my net has been hijinxed. Balls of coloured light, flame, and water, are all simultaneously forming inside the yellow strings. Hurrying to disassemble the net, horror grips my heart when Finite Incantatum fails to drop it. It’s been cursed away, changed. I’m at a loss, my heart hammering in fear. All at once, the spells spin towards me, colliding in a mini explosion around me. I stumble backwards blindly, my hand clutching at my head. I hit something solid and fall to the ground. I register the cold ground beneath me before the world fades to black.

***

The sound of shouts and the flash of lights wake me up again, quickly followed by the smell of charred wood and magical explosions. The events rush back to me, a headache blooming due to the images behind my eyes. Harry yells something and I sit up rapidly. My head spins and pain races down my upper arm once again. I glance at it, immediately regretting my decision, I numb it swiftly and then stand up. Harry—Daniel, that’s right—casts something that makes the witch crumble to the floor in a pile of flesh. He shakes his head to himself just as one of the wizards leaps up from next to Daniel. Diffindo is used for the second time today, and gets Daniel’s leg harshly. Blood cascades down Harry’s leg and to the ground; he falls less than three seconds later. His leg looks like it’s going to fall off, and I rush over to him.

Sparing a single second to Stupefy the newly-conscious wizard, I fall next to Harry and pull him into my arms. The dark brown haired wizard (the one still on our side) says something that I don’t catch, but I zone it out to feel Harry’s pulse. It’s strong beneath my fingers, but his leg is still bleeding quite quickly. Lights flash again, but there is no explosion or collision this time. I lift my head after pressing a kiss to Daniel’s forehead and am astonished to see a swarm of MediWitches spilling into the office. They fuss over the other wizard for a second before spotting Harry and I. Four of them rush over to us, panic evident behind their eyes despite having calm faces.

A spell is used to numb my arm further than mine allowed, and an old spoon is shoved into my left hand. Before I get the chance to be confused, it activates and I’m whirled away from the Ministry. Portkey… St Mungo’s comes into view in a splash of white and noise, and I’m sent flying behind one of the MediWitches down a corridor. I can feel blood trickling down my arm again, as well as in the back of my throat. Numbing only the wound may seem like a good idea, but the warmth trickling against my skin just serves as a reminder that I’m injured. Worry over Harry takes root in my mind, but I stop myself asking the Healer where he is. She doesn’t know I’m Draco, she knows me as Tom. Besides, she wouldn’t willingly let an ex-Death Ester talk to the Saviour of the Wizarding World.

I’m flown into an emergency room and quickly tucked into a bed. The MediWitch calls for another Healer, and a plump woman with grey waddles into view. She looks at my arm before rapidly speaking to the other woman. She grabs various potions off a trolley I hadn’t even realised was there, forcing them down my throat. I scrunch my nose up at the bitter taste and lumpy texture, but can’t bring myself to say anything about it. Wands are then drawn and swept over the cut. Most of their conversation isn’t understandable, and the things I recognise aren’t good. I don’t want to know how deep the cut is, how close it is to the humerus.

Forcing my eyes closed and shutting the Healers out, I try to think about something that won’t cause me to panic. I think about the rough sheets I’m lying on, the bright white light that isn’t blocked out regardless of my eyes being closed, the bustle of people moving around in the corridor. None of them work. I try to think about Harry instead, think of the moments where it was just us. The times we paraded as boyfriends through London, the magical bookstore, the man behind the counter at the potion store, the nights we’ve spent in comfortable silence in the drawing room at Grimmauld. It warms my heart, yet at the same time it feels like a stab to the gut. Harry is bleeding in another room somewhere. I have to get to him.

Three taps on my arm jolts me back to reality, and my eyes fly open. The MediWitches glance curiously at me, but how could they ever understand the gesture? The warning I sent to Harry just before the battle? Sighing, I shake my head at them, indicating that I’m fine. They nod, and their wands start moving again. I turn my head to the right, trying to glance at the cut. This was probably the worst time to do so, and I feel my mouth filling with a gross taste that’s almost blood-like, coppery. I squeeze my eyes shut again, trying not to focus on the way my skin was being knit back together. Despite being numbed, my brain makes me think I can feel it still. I shudder.

“You can open them again, sir,” one of the Healers says to me. Swallowing harshly, I look at my arm again. The cut is totally gone, the only sign a long, jagged line.

“Do you want us to heal the scar, sir?” The MediWitch with greying hair asks me. I shake my head.

“No, but thank you.” This scar isn’t created by stupid decisions, unlike the one on my other arm. It serves as a reminder of something I’m proud of, the time when I helped people instead of threatening them.

“Well then, Mr…?”

“Anstey,” I reply after only a second trying to remember the false name.

“Mr Anstey, you are free to go after filling in the paperwork.” The Healer hands a small stack of parchment to me along with a quill, and I set out filling it in.

Half an hour later, I’m directed towards ‘Mr Gresham’s room. He is sitting up in bed, filling out his own paperwork by the time I arrive. How I managed to fill it all out is beyond me, considering there wasn’t much thought given to Thomas Anstey’s background. How Harry is going to manage is an even bigger mystery, given how he isn’t good at making up information quickly. Scanning my eyes around the room, k smile when I realise Harry’s Healers aren’t in right now.

“Hey, Harry,” I murmur as I enter the room.

His head rockets up and a goofy grin crosses his features. He shuffles over in his bed and taps it, gesturing for me to sit down next to him. I roll my eyes.

“There is no way we’ll both fit,” I chuckle.

He scowls. “Worth a shot.”

I shake my head at him, a smile on my lips. “How’s your leg?”

“I’m lucky it’s still there, according to my MediWitches,” Harry says. “But I can’t feel it right now, so… okay?” He laughs softly.

Nodding, I turn my side to Harry so he can see my jagged scar. “This is all the damage left on me.”

“You keepin it?” Harry asks in broken English. I scowl at him and he grins at my expression.

“Yes, I’m keeping it,” I say, emphasising the correct pronunciation.

Harry returns to his paperwork with a huff, ignoring me. Sighing, I shuffle closer to his bed and peer over his shoulder.

“Do you need some help with that?” I ask with a pointed glance at the one filled out line.

“Yes please,” Harry says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m bollocks at paperwork and questions I can answer.”

“I’m aware,” I say with a smirk. He hands me the parchment and quill and I start answering the rest of the lines.

***

An hour or so later, Harry is Apparating us out of St Mungo’s and onto the entrance of Grimmauld. Harry chose to heal the scar across his thigh, not wanting to remind himself of what would’ve happened if he actually had lost his leg. I don’t say anything about our different opinions, telling myself it would be a stupid thing to argue about when nothing has really changed. I follow him down the corridor and through the stone door into the kitchen. Hermione is waiting there anxiously for us, Weasley sitting in front of her on the counter. She rushes towards us as we enter the room, pulling us both into a hug. Weasley stares for a second, eyes filled with confusion. When I glance over at Harry, I see why. Laughing, I pull out my wand and aim it at Harry.

The Glamours fall away, revealing Harry who is only just understanding what I’m doing. He laughs too, before dropping mine. He grins at me as my skin slowly turns back to pale white, and I reach up to peck him gently on the lips. He smiles and brings an arm around my waist as I turn away.

“Welcome back mate!” Ron calls before making his way to Harry and slapping his back. Harry winces but covers it up with a laugh. “Glad to see you and the ferret are still alive.”

I roll my eyes at the name. “At least call me Malfoy,” I joke. “I don’t call you Weasle… although I could.” I raise my eyebrows at that and Harry slaps my waist gently.

“No you can’t,” he tells me firmly. “And yes Ron, maybe stop calling him ‘the ferret’ until you actually get along.”

Ron nods slowly, rolling his eyes. “I guess so.” He moves away from us and towards Harry’s counter again. “Anyway, we brought Indian if anyone was hungry.”

Hermione floats plates, cutlery, and glasses down into the dining room, followed by Ron carrying the takeout bag.

“Harry, can I talk to you for a moment?” I ask him quietly.

He nods immediately, sensing the serious tone behind my voice. “Of course, in here,” he says, pulling me into another room I hadn’t known existed. “What’s wrong Draco?”

“Well,” I start with a shuddering breath. “It’s looking really likely that Mother is on the second floor after all.”

Harry tips his head to the side, before his green eyes widen. “Which means no one’s looking there, because the others were never on our side…”

“Exactly. Lucius will have free rein over her. Who knows what he’ll do.” I feel tears welling in my eyes, and I grit my teeth to stop them falling. I don’t want Harry to see me cry, not when we just won a battle.

“Draco,” he whispers. “I will sort something out, I promise.” He steps closer to me and pulls me towards him. His arms wrap around my back in a tight, warm hug. I reach up and cross my hands behind his neck while I push my head into him.

“Please don’t make promises Harry. Promises never work out.” Now a tear really does fall, trickling down my left cheek.

“Maybe, but I’m Harry Potter,” he chuckles softly. “I’ll ask Hermione if that makes you feel more secure.” He moves a hand to the back of my head and rubs it gently. “I’ll go in myself if I have to, Draco. Narcissa won’t be allowed to come to any danger.”

I pull my head away slightly, looking into Harry’s set eyes. He’s so certain that nothing will go wrong. I suck in a breath as Harry wipes a tear away from my face. Swallowing hard I step out of his embrace.

“Thank you…” I murmur into the quiet.

Harry smiles and kisses me softly, lips pressed together for a brief second. “You know what I miss?” He asks out of nowhere.

“No…?”

Harry doesn’t answer in words, instead pulling his wand out of his robes. He waves it over me in a familiar pattern. “These.”

His hand runs over my back, and up my now exposed wings. They still aren’t white, and there are still bald patches where the feathers have refused to grow back, but Harry still loves them. Actually, I’d say he adores them. I grin at him, my smile cutting through the tears.

“Come on,” Harry says. “Let’s join the others.”

“Won’t Weasley-”

“Don’t worry about him. He won’t say anything, and if he does… Well, it won’t be good.” Harry laughs softly at his own empty threat, and comfort wraps around my shoulders.

***

A/N: So umm... it’s been a month... Let’s ignore that, and celebrate this new part! Thank you to everyone who’s encouraged me, it really means a lot. I hope you’re all staying safe during quarantine and isolation Xx

Masterlist — Previous Part — Next Part

@draconianhorntail @p3trovass @cowboy-simp @queeneyart @ohheavenlylord @h0pehauntedmyw0rld @unsolicted-chick-picks @itsclayclay @harrybpoetry @slash-slut @jianing2603 @magical-fairy-princess-stuff @give-me-the-queer @youmakeprettybeautiful @hello-i-am-moi @slytherclaw134689 @sinnysin-sin @lafilleetlechatnoir @rebelwolf91017 @irrelevantdrarry @glo-up-goddess @birdy1032 @d-addict @pizzasandwich72 @madison-is-a-small-baby @joshoriande @sugarhoneyice-t @imaginemymemories @shipperofalltheships @uniiicornen @thewanderingnomadsworld @randominternetloser @levi7755 @localxmermaid @biyaaaaaaaaaa @just-some-bibliophile @pizzabitch @champagnemonarch

#devilrising #fallen draco #drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #tw: violence #tw: gore #tw: injury

[orenonahaichigoda]

I had a rough day, and came to a realisation. I will say a bit about my own experience, and then, after having to lay the groundwork of explaining 400 things about Japan because American schools and media think the whole world is the US, Western Europe, and places to blow up, making explaining necessary, will tie it to Ichigo, or at least how I portray him.

I'm Post Dankai Juniors, growing up in Japan. So's Kubo, actually. The boundaries of this Japanese generation are roughly '75 to '85, Yutori, the following generation that's always translated and localised as Millennial, pretty solidly set as beginning at '86. These things are always fuzzy because you can't vivisect living brains and find the part that likes char siu buns and the part that likes jazz fusion. I *majored* in Social Science. You'll have teachers who say "it is absolute that we date people who are similar to us because we're all actually narcists." (It *might* be because they're like our beloved family or community. Narcistic Personality is not universal) But it really just is fuzzy, and that teacher/book author is an idiot. Anyway, Yutori is always translated as Millennial. I don't know the end boundary. Post Dankai Juniors covers almost totally a debated throe for Germanic nations (I know Britain, Germany, and Nederland use the same generations as America, and their languages are Germanic) because of how fuzzy it all is, though.

Anyway, so since coming to the US, my interactions with other Asians, again, how is this defined when China, Mongolia, Japan all border Russia and West Asia includes Jordan and Saudi Arabia, South Asia is India's area, Southeast Asia is Laos, Thailand's area, I mean, find the Arabic kanji. I don't think Thailand even uses soy sauce. What the heck IS Asia, really? (Or "Middle East" when half of that's Africa and the other half shares plate with Europe? )

Anyway, my experience with Asians that are Boomer ages tends to be people who immigrated as adults, who more identity with a generation like "Dankai" or "Sirake." My experiences with Latinos older than me... I've never actually asked if the generational labels are even the same.

The thing about that is that when the name is the same, it means enough cultural traits are shared.

My biggest experience with people who grew up under the term "Boomer" are Black and white.

I've noticed a unifying trait.

If they're something oppressed (Black, gay), their attitude tends to be"it is mandatory to stand up for *my* demograph...but kicking the person behind me on the ladder in the teeth is wholesome, pure, and fun."

Outing me to large groups and saying I "speak Asian" seem to be the most common two. Calling me "Chinese" long after I've cleared this up for them is a close third.

I mean, don't get me wrong--my experience with Italian Americans past GI generation has been that now acquiring the "white" label, just like biphobic/aphobic/transphobic cisgays, they're more often staunch priveledge defenders than cishet people of Anglo descent! And it's just as true for X and Y as it is for Boomer (for the latter, one need only look at NYC destroyer and trump defender Giuliani) I actually don't really identify with my Italian side at all because I was kinda locked out of making any meaningful connection.

But back to my point that even in so-leftist-it's-almost-not-America Bay Area, Boomers are still like this!

The kind of stuff that flows out a X/Y TERF's mouth, or the mouth of an X/Y person with a Confederate flag on his wall, American-raised Boomers say with ease regardless of their alignment! It's banananas.

(Please note that I also just have not met a whole lot of Native Americans, period, nor enough people significantly older than me from any one place in Africa, that was an omission of lacking data, not intended as erasure)

How I tie it to Ichigo--

So Kubo avoids specifying birth years for anyone.

When I see something like this, I generally assume date of publication, as do most people in most fandoms (which of course gets screwy when you have something endlessly rebooted like Superman or Batman or something eternally unchanging like Detective Conan)

Anyway, the first Bleach something published was the comic in '01.

I generally assume it was supposed to be the start of a new school year, as Ichigo doesn't know many of his classmates until at least the first test scores come out. So it's probably April or something.

If Ichigo was 15 then, he'd also be Post Dankai Juniors, just barely. If Ichigo TURNED 15 shortly after, during his adventure, he'd be undebatably Millennial.

Now, there is still something up with Dankai and Sirake. PM Abe is the latter, b. 1954. A lot of his age-peers are behind him. This is the guy who supports remilitarisation and was caught funding a private militarist/fascist high(?) school that teaches that people from countries Japan conquered during its brief phase of trying to beat colonial Europe are less than dogs.

Now, I left there as a teen. Clinton was US president. Scandals still got people kicked out of public office in Japan. I hadn't figured or come out yet. Sure, I got bullied for being mixed, but kids will pick if you like different singers than the "cool" ones. They'll pick based on what's in your lunch. That data is sausage.

I'm not 100% sure what Ichigo would face day-to-day sociopolitically as he grew up/aged. I haven't had living family since'95 there, and friendships don't get deep enough to ever last distance until at least high school. For me, adulthood.

But I've kept/caught up enough (you try keeping up in the South before the internet was more than ten University sites!) that I know he'd face fascists (c'mon, the guy takes on a martial law government to save a new friend--that's anarchist, he just doesn't seem anarchist in his own world. He only fights humans in defence) I'm not sure how he'd feel about the JSDF, but he only fought the sinigami's war out of feeling like it was his responsibility because the adults around him kinda made it so. I super don't see him being for *starting* wars. In a human war, I see him actually being like Sugihara Chiune, a historical figure who died when I was a kid who I majorly admire. He worked at a Japanese embassy in Nazi territory, and when the embassy was evacuated,he continued throwing passports to Jewish people to go to Japan from the train he was departing on,and is hidden from Americans in the same spirit that Martin Luther King is...pulled the teeth out of. (PS, speaking of,go Google Steven Kiyosi Kuromiya)

Also, Ichigo's whole schtick is defending those worse off than him. He's not someone I see defending Yamato Japanese priveledge. Heck, I could see him joining Uchinanchu efforts to get Parliament and the US base to leave them alone. I can easily see him sticking up for a Filipino domestic worker he met thirty seconds ago.

To this end, I think regardless of what he is, he'd have a large rub with Japan's equivalents of Boomers.

Not to mention that Abe supporters tend to be very sexist and queerphobic, which isn't even homegrown but imported from Américanisation. I mean, there were female warriors--assasins, which is what Yoruichi and Soi-Fon are styled after, and go look at some Ukiyoe, like Utagawa Kitamaro. Quite a few artists in the 200-ish years of the Edo period depicted life in the queer districts. I've also had people posit that Noh might've been a welcoming draw for trans people the same way drag was all over the US in the twentieth century and still is in rural areas, where there's less cisgay gatekeeping. But this isn't something I can reasonably research without access to plenty of older and not well known dusty documents, and lots of time, and I live in the US many years now. And do you know how much round trip airfare alone is!? Also, the language changed so much and I can't read anything before Meiji without dropping words. Rukia, Byakuya, Yoruichi all have made for TV old-sounding Japanese like period dramas. Actual 18th Century Japanese would be unintelligible to the unspecialised.

So this stuff isn't really native, but Abe and a lot of people his age support all these -isms.

I super don't see Ichigo being happy about this.

(I also feel like Issin's old enough to remember before these -isms, but that's my own thing. In my project, he was in those districts, but that's me)

At the same time, I'm still writing this through my own lens. Also, not still being there, I just don't have enough data on Yutori in adulthood, or the grown Yutori lens. Honestly, even most other immigrants I meet are older than that. Or older than that and their adorable three year old children. So I have no clue.

In the early 2000s, I got myself from the South to CA and began to reconnect, but began to is the key phrase. I can tell you right now that Abe is as much of a second phase of Nakasone as trump is of Nakasone's buddy Regean. But what shifted when, I can't say. I'm not entirely sure how Koizumi ran the ship, as it were. I know some things, but not enough to say.

But whenever things shifted however, and whichever year Ichigo was born, I just cannot imagine him being any more on board with current events than really anyone in my area not born between 1946-1964 and raised in America.

I feel like he'd probably be too tired or self-effacing to fight for himself, but he'd take on, loud and proud, any bigotry against *others.*

I...also can't really say I'm much different, except my joints are held together by the power of wishes, so I'm more like "get the victim to safety" than "give the attacker plenty of regret." So, I can only do anything in limited ways.

Ichigo is also entirely fuelled by the power of love. Lost his ability to protect and feels like his sinigami friends ditched him? Mondo depressed, however much he wants no one to notice--which most do a great job of ignoring! Everyone in his world turned against him for a guy who has attacked people close to him? Terrified, and murder can now be an answer. (Fullbring Arc)

I was going somewhere with that. I've forgotten, but I'll leave it.

But anyway, I feel like he really only comes close to fighting for himself when others are taken away from him in a way that's also wronging them.

So yeah, I super don't see him happy with current events or Sirake gen.

I'm not sure how much I see him fighting for himself as mixed panromantic grey-ace. I mean, we know he fights people who are about to punch his face in for his looks, but what else can you reasonably do at that point? Get your head bashed in? I'm not sure how much I see him fighting hateful words pointed at him versus resigning himself to "people are the worst." I mean, when he talks about being picked on, he kinda seems resigned, or at least like it's a fact, like shoes being for outside or something.

I guess I tied it to Ichigo a lot better than I thought!

But also, the struggle against people born just after the war is not just you, and not just America. It's a major problem.

And it's likely that Ichigo would agree.

#out of body #musings #baby boomers #generation x #millennials #Japanese generations #Japanese politics #queerphobia #colonialism #moritomo gakuen scandal #sugihara chiune #japanese history #yoruichi shihouin #edo period

[chinchinobcena]

The Day I Attempted To Kill Myself

Behind this smile is a story of a woman who attempted to end her life. Yes, I ATTEMPTED SUICIDE that’s why I got hospitalized. I’m posting this not for attention because when you’re depressed, all you want is to be alone in your bed or just be with very few people you trust the most and feel comfortable with especially just the love of my life (he was my family and made me feel like I was never alone). And it was hard for me to find the courage to share this because I don’t want to be judged. It’s just such a chaotic world out there… Anyway, I knew there was something in me for more than a year or two already. But I never faced it because I thought I can manage it. Mind over matter, right? Get a hold of your feelings, just do the things that make you happy, surround yourself with good people, stay busy with work that you’re passionate about, and inspire people the best way you can do… But at the end of the day, it’s still there. And as time went by, I got worse… I came to a point where I’m scared of so many things, I cry over people leaving as if they died. I felt so lonely (even when I’m not). When I’m around people I’m not close with, it suffocates me, I just want to go home or be on my phone. I feel so walled, I’m scared of everything and everyone. I always assume that everyone I meet will just leave anytime, like people just come and go… I always had a hard time sleeping so I’ve been drinking Benadryl before. But I’ve still been so anxious and sad even if it made me groggy. I had episodes—I was sad and crying, sometimes without a reason even. There’s just something inside me that I can’t control, AT ALL. There were months I couldn’t eat, and when I was just about to take a bite of my food, it makes me want to vomit. And then I helped myself get up again. And it became a cycle. I’d tell people, I was just on a diet…

I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist and was diagnosed with clinical depression. She first asked me why I was there and I said, “I’m tired of fighting this everyday and it makes me sadder how it affects the people around me especially the people I love.” My medicines have been working well and sedates me at night so I can sleep. I became my old self again—jolly, talkative, I don’t run out of stories to tell, annoying and makulit. It gave me hope and every day my boyfriend would remind me that I’m strong and I’ll get through it. He made me believe more in myself, he made me feel like I had a support system. But at the same time it makes me sad how I affect him and how he has to deal with me like this. He never made me feel like I’m a burden, but I always think that I am. He doesn’t deserve someone like me.

While taking medications, I looked for other things to do so I won’t depend on meds. I started playing games, watching netflix, reconnecting with old friends, and learned to rest. Because all I did before was to work—I only get up to work, go to events, take photos, finish deadlines, do unboxing, create whatever content. Yes, that makes me happy, but the pressure and knowing that it’s all work also drains me at some point. But I promise it’s my passion and it’s what makes me happy and keeps me going. I also like the feeling of how I make people happy and inspire them, all their messages on Instagram help me to keep going too. But then eventually, I felt like my body got used to the meds and it’s like I became immune from it.

Oct 31, my Tito and Tita went home to the province but I couldn’t cause I had work for Halloween. Nov 1, my body felt so tired, I felt sick too. The whole building was quiet, and all I saw on Instagram were people with their families. It was sad but I was still okay watching Dynasty. But every after a few hours I’d go to my bed and just relaxed my body and then watched again. It was only my boyfriend’s presence (through text) that didn’t make me feel lonely. I was so excited for him to be home so I can see him on FaceTime. He wasn’t my world (because I do so many things everyday and I don’t always get to see him), BUT he was my hope, he gave me hope, and he made me believe in so many good things in life. Everytime I see his face, I just get sooo happy and I make a lot of chikka to him that sometimes it’s too much that he couldn’t absorb everything anymore but I see it in his eyes how happy he is too seeing me lively and talkative and excited about my kwentos. Nov 2, I was so down and crying because idk maybe bec I’ve been in my condo alone for days or my meds weren’t working anymore, idk if I needed a higher dosage, but my mistake was I never messaged my psychiatrist about it. I called my boyfriend crying, I “needed” him again. And eventually, I couldn’t take being a burden to him or to anyone anymore. I can’t always be a burden to people I love. I love him so much and I just felt like he deserves someone better and I shouldn’t be his responsibility. I wanted him to have a better and happier life—everyone wants that. But at that moment, I just realized I’m already too much for anyone to handle. Too much for my friends, too much for all my loved ones. So I decided to take my life away…

I always thought that nobody loves me as much anyway, and maybe they wouldn’t even mind if I die. Cause I’m just a burden to people I love. And just always wearing a mask in front of other people pretending she’s that jolly funny talkative girl. I just got tired of myself and got tired of fighting… The normal dosage of my meds are Tab A (¼) and Tab B (1 whole), so I took Tab A (¼ x 48) and Tab B (1 whole x 10). I wrote a letter to my mom saying, “I love you… I will always be here…” and messaged her “I love you Mama.” Because we were never the cheesy type but I just really love her for whatever. And then I messaged my Tita that I overdosed myself. She and my Tito went all the way from Tarlac but I was already unconscious/sleeping idk when they arrived. I barely remember things because I took so many meds, all I remember was my Tito, Tita, Mom and my boyfriend were there in the ER. And lastly, that my boyfriend kept hugging me and kissing me on the forehead before he went home telling me to be a good girl and that he will message me. I held on to that... And that moment I realized there were people who really love me, that I actually mattered. I suffered so much in the hospital and until now. The feeling is just so bad. And I was having withdrawal syndrome, that I just wanted a successful suicide yesterday. I couldn’t find any reason to live. There was nothing else on my mind, but to end my life. My mind was vague because of the withdrawal, like it’s also withdrawing my brain (char). I just don’t want this to feel so heavy for you guys. But kidding aside, my friends had a hard time stopping and controlling me and they made me realize that what I was feeling was just the withdrawal and I shouldn’t let it get into me. I was still supposed to be in the hospital, but I forced them to discharge me because being there made me feel worse, sad, and sick. It’s like I’m in a cage and there was nothing that could make me happy. I want to heal naturally, choose to heal with a healthy mindset, but still see my psychiatrist of course.

All I wanted to avoid was to be a burden that’s why I wanted to vanish but I just ended up hurting the people who love me. I just became a total burden rather than not at all. All I feel right now is guilt, I hurt the people I love. And if I actually died, I would regret seeing them affected and carrying what I did for the rest of their lives. I just want to say sorry to everyone I’ve hurt, it was just really hard for me fighting my depression everyday and seeing people having the “responsibility” to make me feel better so I chose to end it all. To the people going through something, never be afraid to seek for help, and I promise you there are people who genuinely care. Don’t ever feel like you are a burden because if they truly love you, you never will and they will help you get through it without even asking for it. Because that’s what my boyfriend kept telling me but I just let my depression win me over. Please trust your loved ones more than that depression that kills you inside. Don’t let all the love and effort they did for you to be put to waste. The only way you can pay them back is to help yourself get better, trust them, and keep yourself alive even when it’s hard. Sometimes, if you can’t do it for yourself anymore, do it for the people you love, it helps to be strong for the people you love too.

I actually wonder why I’m still alive cause I really took a lot of meds to make sure it comes to an end. But as my friend told me, “Surely you’re not meant to die yet. Your life still has a purpose, there’s a reason why you’re alive.” And maybe this is it, sharing my experience and realizations to the world. Let’s all help each other and not only think about ourselves. Be positive even when it’s hard. But don’t bottle up your feelings, and let it out once in a while. Balance is key.

Never beat yourself up, you can still start over. Believe that it will all get better… You have no idea how much courage it took me to share this to the world so please, be strong… I just want everyone to believe that life is worth living. When things feel heavy, just look at the people who love you and it will all make a difference.

I’m sincerely sorry to all my loved ones for trying to take my life away. It was so selfish of me. When all my boyfriend did was to make me happy and help me get through everything...

To my boyfriend, hurting you was the last thing I would want to do or should I say I WOULD NEVER WANT TO DO and I fucked up, and made you go through the worst... It breaks my heart to know that I broke yours. I’m deeply sorry and I know it will never be enough. If only I can take it back to take away all the pain I’ve caused you, I would. I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me. I love you so much. And I will never put all your love and effort to waste, I will be better. (Just had to write it here, because messaging him directly won’t help him and won’t make things any better…….)

I don’t care about what people think of me now. If some of you are gonna be judgmental or whatsoever. Cause I tell you what, I never believed in depression before and I thought it’s all in the mind. And this life changing experience proved me wrong. But I know there are still people out there who have a big heart and I hope you could help people who are in need and make them feel loved, especially your loved ones. I kept this from a lot of people even my close friends because I didn’t want to be judged. I don’t feel embarrassed nor scared about it anymore. I accept myself for what I am. And I choose to pick myself up to be the best that I can be.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still normal. I just have episodes of sadness especially when someone triggers it. That’s why I only surround myself with people I trust and I’m comfortable with. Their care just calms me and makes me happy.

Just 5pm today, for the first time, I went to a Psychologist. And this is what he told me, “You may not see it now but you’re in the process of seeing life in a deeper perspective. There’s a reason why you didn’t die.”

I don’t want anyone, in any way, to feel sorry for me. All I want is for everyone to learn from this whether you’re depressed, just around a depressed person, or none at all.

There’s still so much to say but I’ll end this here.

THIS IS ME, CHIN CHIN OBCENA, RAW. I AM CLINICALLY DEPRESSED BUT I SURVIVED AND I WILL BE BETTER.

#suicide #suicidalgirl #attemptedsuicide #depression #clinicaldepression #depressionph #philippines #manila #blogger

[so-shiny-so-chrome]

Witness: Weirdness_Unlimited

Creator name (AO3): Weirdness_Unlimited

Creator name (Tumblr): Burn-your-face-upon-the-chrome

Link to creator works: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weirdness_Unlimited/works

Q: Why the Mad Max Fandom?

A: In the Mad Max universe, anything that is completely absurd and outrageous is represented as the norm. Leather fetish gear? Oh, that's just the security guard uniform at Bartertown. Those guys over there are wearing black and white face paint? No, you're not at an ICP concert, those are War Boys, also run. Whoa, there are acrobats being flung through the air on poles attached to moving vehicles! No worries, that's just any Tuesday in Gas Town. I love this fandom because pretty much any nonsense my skull meat can come up with, as long as the mechanics of it work, I can throw it into my fics and not a single person will bat an eye. As a matter of fact, the weirder, the better. 

Q: What do you think are some defining aspects of your work? Do you have a style? Recurrent themes?

A: Life is gross, humans do gross things, and the environment around you could not care less about any of your moral dilemmas. I suppose you can say my style is a lack of it. I like things straight forward and I know this characteristic often weakens any aesthetic appeal to my writing. “To Love Reptiles” reads from Slit's perspective the same way a radio manual does but with a lot more cursing. I try not to make it too complicated to digest. I'd like for people to be able to fill in any blanks with their own interpretation of the situation and then move on to the next. 

Themes though, I go heavy on themes. The main theme is interpersonal relationships, coping with failure within them, and personal growth. Other themes include coping with mental illness, codependency, hunger, greed, warfare, trauma, etc.  

Q: Which of your works was the most fun to create? The most difficult? Which is your most popular? Most successful? Your favourite overall?

A: The most fun work of my own, by far, has been “To Love Reptiles.” It has also been the most popular, most successful, and my most favourite. The most difficult has been an original work with no working title. I can't give away much about this original piece but it has to do with local myths and survival in the wilderness. I quit working on the rough manuscript when my grandmother passed away several years ago. I'll be picking it up again soon. It may turn up on AO3 in the next three or four years.

Q: How do you like your wasteland? Gritty? Hopeful? Campy? Soft? Why?/

A: Gritty but hopeful, I think. The wasteland is nasty but humans need hope, right?

Q: Walk us through your creative process from idea to finished product. What's your prefered environment for creating? How do you get through rough patches?

A: Alright, so that's an interesting question with a pretty messy answer but I'll try to make it brisk.   Step 1: I start with a summary of the story as a whole with a point A (the beginning) and a point B (the end). Step 2: I break that summary down and and fill it out with events that can ferry the characters from the start of the story to the finish on a drawn timeline to keep things in chronological order. I also have note cards. I break this down further into named chapters. This can take a while. Step 3: I summarize each of those chapters to figure out if this story needs more than one installment. It depends out how the series of events land and how many minor arcs are included with the main arc/objective. Sprinkle some drama in there, scrap some unnecessary things, narrow an installment down to thirty (30) chapters at maximum. Step 4: I summarize individual scenes within the chapters and hack out important dialog. This takes weeks. There's typically between four and ten scenes per chapter. Also more note cards. Step 5: I try to flesh out one scene per day. (key word: Try) 

 I get the most writing done in the morning over coffee and before work. I usually sit at the breakfast table with my phone and spit out about 500-ish words before my husband wakes up. I'll write intermittently throughout the day. Lately I haven't been writing much because of holiday junk and winter being kind of a bummer. 

 If I'm in a rough patch, I can break though it by sitting in a room with no internet access and forcing myself to scratch out a scene or two in a notepad. Usually these notepad scribbles are so awful that they get torn out and chucked in the waste bin but the next day I'm keen to do the job right. 

Q: What (if any) music do you listen to for help getting those creative juices flowing?

A: Ambient sound, white noise, or nothing. I do listen to music and there's a lot of songs I associate with stories, fics, characters. Tove Lo is a big one for Dune. Most of the time I find that music with lyrics or a high tempo is distracting if I'm in the act of writing something but it can be a source of inspiration separately. 

Q: How do you keep track of all the details as you're writing? How do you keep details consistent in your works? How do you fact-check your writing?

A: I have a little memo pad with numbered facts that do not change at any point through the story. These are kinda the cardinal rules. I can't tell you the rules because they contain spoilers. After the “RULES” there are miscellaneous details that I'd like to remember in case they come up later. Things like birthmarks, scar placement, mannerisms, things I've hinted at without exposition that will need to be revealed later.

I fact check by googling stuff and falling down research holes for several hours until I forget what I was doing. EVENTUALLY I'll come back to writing and realize that's why there are things in my search history that probably have me on some kind of government watch list.

Q: What motivates your writing?

A: My motivation. Real talk? For AAL it's to get to a particular scene in the planned third installment. Scene thirteen in chapter seven. I know that answers exactly nothing and is weirdly specific but... yes. Other works of mine, I'm motivated by the idea that some of my ideas might entertain someone out there, even if it's just one someone then I've succeeded.

Q: What is your biggest challenge as a creator?

A: Time management. I have a lot of hobbies and finding time for individual projects is... Hard. I made a boredom jar that lets me pick an unfinished task/project/piece at random to do whenever I'm bored so that I can stop myself from starting anything new when my apartment is already full of unfinished junk.

Q: How have you grown as a creator through your participation in the Mad Max Fandom? How has your work changed? Have you learned anything about yourself?

A: Yes. My organizational skills have improved by miles and my attention span is better focused. Grammatically my work has undergone general improvement.  

Learned anything about myself? Hmm, I learned that my opinion of what is canon and what makes good fan fiction are two completely different things. If you ask me anything specific about the Mad Max franchise you will probably get both opinions. As an example: Does Maxosa make for good fan fiction? Heck Yeah! Will canon Max Rockatansky or Furiosa ever be mentally and emotionally healed enough to actually be in a relationship? Probably not and that's okay. I can happily read Max and Furi getting cuddly and domestic and enjoy the heck out of another writer's interpretation of these two overcoming the hurdles of their respective traumas. I can do this knowing full well that Max and Furiosa probably never canonically saw each other again after the closing scene of Fury Road. I'm okay with this because that's the magic of fandom and why I love it.

Q: Which character do you relate to the most, and how does that affect your approach to that character? Is someone else your favourite to portray? How has your understanding of these characters grown through portraying them?

A: I relate to Max the most, and I think the reason I haven't yet published anything written from his perspective is because he'd be the most difficult to write without touching on my own fears and inadequacies too much. Max is not interested in being involved with the dramas of anyone else's life. He's already seen too much turmoil and had a hand in it too many times to actively seek people and their inherent problems, however, when presented with zero alternative he'll do what needs to be done and suffer though forming new attachments to very mortal people who may drop dead at any minute. He isn't comfortable with the process of forming attachments and he'd rather avoid it. He doesn't want another ghost. At least that's my interpretation of him. 

 Slit, remarkably, is my favorite to write for in spite of the fact that I don't relate to him in any way and my interpretation of his portrayal in the film is, simply put, a blunt edged euphemism for abusive relationships. He's just... a guilty pleasure to examine and write. I blame my fondness on the stunning character design and Josh Helman's energy on screen. The character says and does ridiculous things and it's just hilarious to watch Slit dig his own grave and humiliate himself. Case and point: I've got his boot! My understanding of Slit has grown through writing about him. He's probably (canonically) deeply insecure and his way of thinking very toxic and self focused. There's gotta be trauma there (I took massive creative license in that area) and a whole host of personal issues that explain his behavior, but will never excuse it. Does that make good fan fiction??? Parts of it do, the rest has to be that very human ability to grow and improve, although I don't think he'd have that opportunity in canon or accept any form of assistance... If he'd lived. 

Q: Do you ever self-insert, even accidentally?

A: I think you kind of have to self-insert to a point. Writing tends to involve exaggerating your own experiences and the imagined interactions in your own head in order to make the experiences of the characters relatable. I'd rather not examine every individual facet of the issue but yes, I think Dune is an unintentional self-insert to cope with health problems before I was consciously aware of what I was coping with and since that realization, lately, she's a lot harder to write. 

Q: Do you have any favourite relationships to portray? What interests you about them?Honestly? Close platonic friendship. Emotional intimacy is interesting. I draw a lot of inspiration for friendship in fiction from Mulder and Scully in early seasons of The X-files.

Q: How does your work for the fandom change how you look at the source material?

A: I see more minor details and the context of silent interactions. Some of these details are unsettling, some of them are so subtle and subliminal that they're easily missed when you watch the films, especially Fury Road. Oddly enough, I'm a lot more- Ah whats the word? Not quite critical of but unnerved by my own observations of Capable's relationship with Nux. I'm not sure why. It could be that I'm misinterpreting the actress's tone or George Miller vision/direction, but I watch the movie now and find that the way Capable looks at and talks about Nux so intensely makes me uneasy. The previous is just an example among many that I've spat out so far, it's not important.

Q: Do you prefer to create in one defined chronology or do your works stand alone? Why or why not?

A: Everything I write within the Mad Max fandom with the exception of collaborative works will probably be linked together and consistent with one another because that means less to remember and fewer mix-ups.

Q: To break or not to break canon? Why?

A: If you have to, break it. I'll read it. I like my fandom unlimited, baby. In my own works I try to keep with canon somewhat but I resurrect a lot of characters who almost certainly died because if I didn't, it would really only leave seven (I think) named characters with dialog who did not die in Fury Road. (The surviving women of the Many Mothers weren't named.)

Q: Share some headcanons:

A: 1) Max has intestinal parasites. He ate a live (two headed) lizard in the first thirty seconds of Fury Road. You really really really should not do that. 

 2) Furiosa didn't want to kill Ace. She could have just blown his head off instead of punching him in the face with a pistol. She didn't shoot him. 

 3) Ace did not go under the wheels. Foxy Grandpa lives. 

 4) Miss Giddy is also alive somewhere 

 5) Actually, most people in the wasteland probably have intestinal parasites. 

Q: If you work with OCs walk us through your process for creating them. Who are some of your favourites?

A: My original characters tend to create themselves. I don't know how they do it, they kinda just decide for themselves for better or worse what they'll look like and how they'll behave. Dune was an accident and the “About a Lizard” series wasn't supposed to happen at all. It was supposed to be a one-shot word dump of what Slit's final moments might have looked like. Slit was supposed to die in a fleeting but intense two seconds of delusions about Valkyries and Valhalla... And then be eaten by a scavenger cannibal. The whole thing kind of just happened on the fly. Ardith, Phil/Crank, Featherknife, Bones, and the kids were also accidental. I had no idea where I was going with the encounter with Crow Fishermen. They just popped into existence of their own will and the rest is history. The only original characters that have been planned and designed well beforehand have been villains. This probably says something about me as a writer though I'm not sure what. 

Q: When creating a new character for the AAL series, how do you approach their first interactions with your main characters?

A: The first thing I ask is “What does this scene need” and sometimes it needs a new character for villainy or friendly acquaintance reasons or for a skill-set the main characters do not posses. New characters have a habit of changing a chapter or making it much longer than intended. First interactions with Slit probably won't surprise anyone. He phases through distrust to dislike to begrudged cooperation and from there he's either on his way back to dislike or entering the tolerance phase. Beyond the tolerance phase is... The Complicated Zone. The Complicated Zone is where Nux and Dune are situated. Dune has two basic instincts with people: Should I shoot you? Or should I befriend you? Bizarrely, being friendly is the weirder option in the wastes. Shooting is almost always a consideration if she's taken by surprise.

Q: If you create original works, how do those compare to your fan works?

A: My original works are probably darker and deal more with modern problems. I turn to fan fiction for fun and to indirectly work through things.

Q: Who are some works by other creators inside and outside of the fandom that have influenced your work?

A: A lot of the fandom, too many names to name but one stands out and I can't remember their name or the title of their work. It was about Ace growing up and there was a dingo and a young Miss Giddy. If anyone knows what I'm talking about, please help. I've been looking for this fic for ages.

Q: Is there a specific author(s) that inspired your work when you began writing TLR?

A: I don't think any specific author inspired me while I began TLR but The Dark Half by Stephen King is one of my favorites and I recall re-reading it shortly before getting deep into fan writing. I may even have unconsciously plagiarized a few lines off that book. In my latest attempt to re-read that novel I'm feeling like there's a lot of Thad Beaumont in my portrayal of Slit.

Q: What advice can you give someone who is struggling to make their own works more interesting, compelling, cohesive, etc.? 

A: Don't be afraid to write things that are too soft or too dark or too this or too that. Sometimes readers crave that stuff that makes us feel warm and safe and sometimes we're also here for things that make us wonder how the @!#$% the characters will ever recover or IF they will ever recover. The real world is full of all sorts of feelings, situations, serendipitous coincidences. Take us down whatever funky road you got! You're the driver, you decide. Your fic is your world. Write WILD things sometimes because it's fun. 

Q: Have you visited or do you plan to visit Australia, Wasteland Weekend, or other Mad Max place?

A: I would love to take a trip to Australia one day to paint scenery in oils but that predates my time in MM fandom. I really want to go to Wasteland Weekend in the next two years but finances, necessities, costumes, etc need to be sorted out first.

Q: Tell us about a current WIP or planned project.

A: Well, I'm buying up model car kits to make little Mad Max cars for nerd purposes.

Thank you @burn-your-face-upon-the-chrome

#mad max fanfic #Mad Max Fandom Creator Spotlight #Mad Max Fandom Spotlight #fury road fanfic #fanfic author spotlight #fury road fandom #mad max fandom #weirdness unlimited

[fuzzhugs]

Sayna the Warrior

Redwall AU Fanfction. 2,300 words. By Fuzzhugs

*******************************************************

Despite the nearby fire burning brightly and warmly, the cave still felt very dark and very cold. Sayna couldn’t stop her paws from shaking, even as she cradled in her arms all that was left to remind her of her husband.

Her infant son, Martin, was thankfully quiet, sleeping blissfully unaware of the events which had unfolded. Sayna was glad for his silence; she could barely keep herself together, and she doubted she would be able to manage Martin’s tears as well as her own.

The pirates had come out of nowhere. Sayna and the rest of the tribe had been preoccupied with the celebratory feast they were holding in honor of their new home and the new life among them. A few of the mice had been in the middle of a song when half-a-dozen boats landed on the shore, releasing a mob of vermin onto the shore. At their head was a lithe stoat, laughing as he swung his sword wildly, calling out his own name.

“Vilu Daskar,” Sayna gritted her teeth. She would remember that name until the day she died.

Luke had sprung from his position beside her immediately, sword in paw, quickly followed by the other fighters, who fought with anything that came to paw.

Sayna hadn’t seen much of the battle; her only concern at the moment had been for Martin. She had grabbed him and sprinted up the shore as far as she could from the corsair invasion, dragging her mother Windred along with her.

The others later told her that Luke has taken on Vilu Daskar all by himself. Both had fought viciously, managing to grievously wound the other. Daskar had fallen first with Luke’s sword through his chest. The death of their captain had broken the corsairs’ spirit, and they began a quick retreat to their boats. Luke, despite his weakened state, charged after them, slaying many before succumbing to his wounds in the shallows.

The pirates fled, and their red ship disappeared over the horizon, but the price of victory had been steep. So many good friends had died. Old Twoola hadn’t been able to run at all and had fallen to a searat’s cutlass. Cardo had died shielding his daughter; poor Fripple was an orphan now. Coll had always been like a brother to her. And Denno…

“Denno,” Sayna sighed. He had been sweet on her when they were both much younger, before Luke, of course. He always had told the best stories.

Martin stirred in his sleep and Sayna patted his head gently, comforting him. “Keep sleeping little one,” she whispered. “Dream happy dreams.”

She could hear other voices echoing into the cave from the shore as they worked under the rising sun. There were wounded that needed tending. Bodies that needed moving. Sayna wanted to be out there with the rest of the tribe; she wanted to be helpful and useful, but her body refused to move.

A short time after the attack, their hedgehog and mole neighbors from the clifftop, witnesses to the onslaught, came down to help. They brought herbs and bandages as well as food: berries from the tops of the cliffs.

Berries. Old Twoola had told Sayna about them earlier and she had told Luke. Luke had considered going with some of the others to pick berries that night, but had changed his mind, wanting to spend time with his wife and son at the feast. How would events have changed if he had gone off? Would they have delayed the feast? Would the fire not have been built so large? Would he still be alive?

A passing shadow tore Sayna from her thoughts. Vurg was standing over her, a mix of sorrow and anger written across his face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stop by sooner,” he said, his voice weary, “but there were others to see to. How are you managing?”

“Barely, Vurg. Barely is how I’m managing. I’m struggling to keep myself together.”

Vurg knelt down next to the fire. “It is not good to keep it all in. Sometimes the right thing to do is weep.”

Sayna shook her head. “Once I start, I won’t be able to stop. I have a son to take care of.”

“If you need time, we can all help. Windred, me, Dulam, or any of the others.”

“The tribe has enough burdens now. It does not need another.”

“You are no burden, Sayna. You are family. Luke is the reason most of us are alive today. We are all indebted to him and the least we can do to remember him is to care for his wife and son.”

Sayna shifted her position, adjusting the blanket wrapped around Martin. “Thank you, Vurg,” she said quietly, “but I would like to be alone with my son for now.”

“As you wish, Sayna, but try not to stay in the dark for too long.” Vurg turned to go but quickly turned around again. “Young Timbal found this in the shallows, not far from where Luke fell.” He unshouldered Luke’s familial sword. “By all rights it’s yours now.”

“He always meant to pass it to Martin,” Sayna reminded him, “but I will hold on to it for the time being.”

Vurg made again to go, but Sayna called him back.

“Vurg, where is my husband’s b…  Where has Luke been placed?”

“The others we buried in the soil near to the cliffs, but Luke had his warrior traditions.”

“Yes, his family has a custom of burning the dead on a pyre.”

“We’ve kept him covered and safe,” Vurg assured her. “By tomorrow we’ll have the pyre ready.”

“Thank you, Vurg. Tomorrow evening, then.”

***

The cloak wrapped around Sayna fluttered in the evening breeze. Behind her, the tribe had gathered to see off their chieftain. Even the wounded had been brought on stretchers to say their farewells. A small pile of tokens and mementos had been assembled at the foot of the pyre, a final tribute to their beloved leader.

Sayna stood alone next to the pyre. Windred was holding Martin and the rest of the tribe had given her space so that she could share some final, private words with her husband.

“My love,” she said, stroking his fur, inwardly astonished that he looked only to be sleeping. “My love, I’m sorry you will not be here to see our son grow, but he will grow up surrounded by friends. He will be loved and well cared for. Our son will be safe, and I know that you would have been so proud of him.”

Sayna leaned over to whisper into Luke’s ear. Her voice took on a grim tone. “Were I a warrior, I would make promises of vengeance for your death, but you have already seen to your own vengeance, so I will instead make a promise. We will never again be defenseless.”

Sayna stepped back and her somber demeanor returned. “Goodbye, my love.” Taking a lit torch from Vurg, she lit the pyre and watched as the flames consumed the body of Luke the Warrior.

The tribe stood by for some time and watched the flames grow. As the sun set and the moon rose, the gathered crowd began to leave a few at a time until at last only Sayna remained, holding Martin in her arms. The small mouse had scarcely made a sound during the entire affair, and he had kept his eyes fixed upon the pyre almost the whole time, never flinching from flame or heat.

The morning light brought with it a warm wind which carried the ashes out toward the sea. The incoming tide carried anything left out into the sea, leaving only a charred stain upon the beach which was likewise quickly washed away.

Sayna had stayed on the beach the entire night, sometimes sitting, other times pacing around. By morning, she was exhausted, and a few of the other mousewives had to half carry her back to her home to get some proper sleep. She was woken up around noon by a soft touch on her arm. Through sleep-filled eyes, she could make out the form of a young mouse.

“Timballisto,” she yawned, rubbing her eyes, “what brings you here?”

“I caught a fish earlier and Mr. Dulam fried it up. He sent me to ask if you wanted some of it.” He held out a plate with a piece of cooked fish, a slice of bread, and some fruit.

“It’s lunchtime?”

Timbal nodded. “You’ve been asleepin’ since dawn, ma’am.”

Sayna took a small bite of fish. “This is delicious. You’ll have to keep catching more of these. Have you had lunch yet?”

“No, ma’am. First I was catchin’ fish, than helping Mr. Dulam with vittles. Now I’ve promised Miss Mirel that I’d go with her to pick herbs…”

“So busy for such a young mouse!” Sayna remarked.

“I’ve been tryin’ to help a bit more, cause of all the creatures that d…cause there aren’t as many of us anymore.”

Sayna ruffled his headfur. “That’s very kind of you, but everybeast needs to eat.”

“But I promised…”

“If Mirel takes issue with you eating lunch, than she’ll have to answer to me.  Now have a bite to eat, I’m not going to manage all this by myself.”

Timbal enthusiastically devoured his portion of the meal and lingered for a few minutes to play with Martin, amusing the infant with some shiny rocks he had found on the beach.

“Missus Sayna, are we safe here?” the young mouse asked, worry engraved in every word. “We’ve only been here a few days and we’ve already been attacked.”

Sayna leaned back against the cave wall. “The world can be a dangerous place, and we weren’t ready for an attack. We were weary from travel and unfamiliar with the land, but we can be safe. We will make ourselves safe. I promise you Timbal, we’re not going to lose anyone else, not if I have anything to say about it.”

Her voice echoed about the cave. She hadn’t realized her voice had grown so intense. Timbal was standing back, looking a little startled.

“I’m sorry Timbal, it’s been a terrible few days for all of us. Before you go help Mirel, would you find Vurg and send him here?”

“Yes ma’am,” Timbal said and left the cave.

Vurg arrived a few minutes later. “Timbal said you wanted to talk to me.”

Sayna nodded and picked up a cloth-wrapped bundle from a corner of the cave and began to unwrap it. “You’ve fought alongside my husband many times. You know combat. You know death. You were like brothers, the two of you. For all these reasons, I must ask you” -the last of the wrapping fell to the ground and she held out the sword-“show me how to use this.”

Vurg sighed. “Sayna, you are right that Luke and I were like brothers, and I don’t think my brother would like the idea of me preparing his wife for war.”

“We’re already in a war,” Sayna snapped, her eyes shining fiercely. “War came to our shore only a few nights ago, stealing away our loved ones. We are at war with everything that threatens to tear our tribe apart. Would you deny your brother’s wife the ability to defend herself and her son!?”

“And when I’ve taught you, then what?”

“Then we teach the rest of the tribe. We teach them everything they need to fight and survive. Archery, spears, slings, traps, anything and everything that will keep us safe!”

Vurg found himself overwhelmed by Sayna’s firey passion. It was impossible for him to deny her request.

“Very well,” he said. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

***

Seasons passed. Young ones grew older, couples got married, and children were born. The tribe flourished once again.

A league to the north of the caves, a lone figure stood upon the beach with the sea to one side and the cliffs to the other. The figure stood out distinctly upon the sand, garbed in a cloak of sky-blue, watching as a group of some two-score creatures approaching.

The leader of the group walked ahead of the rest, stopping a pace away from the blue-clad figure. He was a stoat, and the assorted foxes, rats, weasels, and ferrets following him were clearly sea-faring beasts. It was all so similar to that day many seasons before.

The stoat opened his mouth to speak but the blue-clad figure spoke first.

“You call yourself Lord Badrang. Your ship ran aground two weeks ago. You and your crew are taking creatures as slaves before heading east. Did I forget anything?” The figure tossed her hood off. Sayna looked directly into the eyes of the stoat.

Badrang’s mouth was frozen open; he was not used to being caught off-guard.

“We’ve been watching you since you made landfall,” Sayna continued. “I am familiar with what it is you do.”

Badrang quickly recovered his composure. “Then you must have seen me stepping over the bodies of those who opposed me. And you must have seen me wave away threats like gnats. And you must have seen that I do not negotiate with those who will be my slaves.”

“This is good,” Sayna said with a twisted grin— There was a faint movement of her cloak and a deep cut split open Badrang’s torso from gut to neck. Sayna held her sword high, blood dripping down the blade. Across the cliff-face, at least one hundred mice suddenly appeared; their sand and rock colored cloaks had rendered them nearly invisible. They were all holding bows and were pointing their arrows down at the vermin crew. Badrang fell lifeless to the ground.—“We did not come to negotiate.”  

#redwall #redwall fanfction #luke the warrior #sayna #sayna the warrior #martin the warrior #sword of martin #sword of martin the warrior

[performanceroll-blog]

YOU MEET IN A TAVERN! You've got your world built, the players made their characters and you can't wait to unleash all the monsters you know on the poor unsuspecting lvl 1s. The characters, however, have to somehow get to the goblin caves/basement filled with giant rats/kobold den first. How do you introduce the PCs into the world and to each other? Let me just start off saying that there are as many ways to do this as there are DMs - and equally as many opinions on what way is the best. We're gonna go through some of the classic ones to give you the general idea, as well as some more unique ones if you want to surprise your players. Overall, though, it all boils down to your own personal prefrence. THE TAVERN Yup, you guessed it. The number one most popular way to start a campaign is in a tavern. Hey, if it's not broken, don't fix it, right? Tropes are tropes for a reason. They work. Starting off in a tavern has its numerous benefits. A tavern is a place where the most varied of people can meet. You can put almost anyone and anything in there and not have to think too hard on why they’re there. It's a great way to introduce npcs you'd like your players to know right off the bat. If the players are new, you can ease them into social interactions and roleplaying by engaging them on a level they are familiar with - have a bartender simply ask them for their order.  It starts off a conversation and also offers the opportunity to try out some skill checks. Trust me, all players, be they new or veteran, are going to try to haggle for prices. Ask for that persuasion roll. If the players are more roleplay-firendly, you can leave the first few minutes up to them to interact amongst themselves. That way they can get to know each other a bit before you throw them to the wolves. Taverns are also a great place to introduce some lore. This works best when it comes naturally and doesn't seem forced. Nobody likes an exposition dump. Try to wait for the players' initiative to learn something about their surroundings. Maybe the PCs overhear a conversation at the nearest table. Maybe the bard in the corner is playing a song about the latest world events. Maybe the tavern itself is a piece of lore - there are carvings above the bar that hold various names and when the PCs inquire about them, they learn that they are the names of all the people who held the title of Deepest Throat in the past 10 years. (pun intended - and you can do with the title what you will :)) From there a drinking contest is bound to happen. A little harmless competition to start off a campaign won’t hurt anyone....OR WILL IT? :)  When everyone's a bit more relaxed, you've tried some rolls, had a few conversations, you can start introducing the plot. A notice board with local mercenary work, a damsel in distress barges into the tavern, the barkeep needs help with deratization in the basement... anything can be thrown into a tavern and has every right to be there. THE ESCORT MISSION Again, one of the common tropes. Often times it is troublesome to put the PCs into one place and have there be a plausible reason for them to be there at the same time. It can be even more troublesome to have them immediately form a party and stay together. You can sort of cheat your way into this by having them be working on the same job - such as escorting someone or something from point A to point B. Regardless of their backstories, they need only to figure out a reason why they're escorting this merchant to that coastal town in the south. Not even all of them need that to be their actual job. Maybe one of them was simply traveling in that direction and met up with the others who were guarding the caravan. This set up also gives you the opportunity to take a few of the oppening moments to encourage conversation and getting to know one another. After the oppening stages, you can start the plot with having something unexpected occur. - maybe a simple pack of wolves attacks the caravan and you can introduce combat without having it be something really stressfull right off the bat. Or maybe the caravan itself is part of the narative and you can start the "plot" after they arrive at the destination. Whatever the case, now you have your PCs together. PART OF THE SAME ORGANIZATION A mercenary company, an adventuring guild, students at the same school, soldiers in the army, part of the same pottery class... there are countless possibilities here. This particular premise does demand some cooperation from your players with having to synchronise their backstories, but hey, if they're up for it, it's a great way to skip past the potential initial awkward stages. You just assume the PCs already know each other and you can even discuss how close they are, who likes who, why the elf and dwarf are best friends etc. They can describe their party dynamics and have that be the roleplaying intro into the game. Then simply give them a task to complete for the organization and the story writes itself from there. THE JAIL Whether it was grand theft cart, petty thievery or even an unjust sentence, the PCs found themselves in jail. And would you know it, the mayor is just in need of a couple of people willing to walk the grey area of law to deal with a particular problem he has. Do this for him and your sentence will be revoked. This also offers the potential for the PCs to get to know each other before you introduce the mayor as the driving force of the plot. Hey, maybe there's this other inmate there too who seems to be a random person locked up for public indecency but is actually the big bad of the story. I myself do love foreshadowing things to my players. THE SHIPWRECK Not unlike the jail, it is a situation that has been forced upon the PCs and requires them to work together to get out of it. It's a construct of storytelling that allows you to circumvent the "Why would I even travel with these people..my character would never..." trap of PC backstory and alignment. This one is a great way to have there be a contained introductory story to your campaign. You don't have to spend a ton of time developing the whole world if the party can't leave this tiny island for the first 4-5 levels. A little railroading at the begining doesn't have to be a bad thing - especially when done well.  AMNESIA Here we go into the more complex options. There are countless books, games, movies and tv shows that hinge on the protagonist not remembering their past. This can also be used in dnd and to various degrees. First of all, though, it requires cooperation from your players and they have to be complicit to this kind of start. Now, you can go with everything ranging from the PCs not remembering their names, to their whole backgrounds, to not actually having access to their character sheets. The first 2 are simple enough. You can have it just be a plot point and for some reason important to the story that they have amnesia. I wouldn't recommend using it just for the sake of it. If you're going with amnesia, there has to be a plot related reason for it. Maybe they are all part of a medical/scientific/magical experiment. Maybe they were all killed and ressurected as chosen of the god(s) for some higher purpose - I dunno, you do the brainstorming there.... Regardless of the reason, they now immediately have something in common which will hold them together as a  group. The last one, though, is a bit tricky, and one that I'd like to try out at least once myself. You can go with the players not remembering  anything about themselves. To avoid metagaming, that would constitute them not having access to their sheets - at least in the begining. It also means that they would probably have to roll totally random classes. Most players already have an idea on what they want to play, though, and would be against such a campaign start, I would assume - but if you have a table of veterans, maybe they'd like to try out something out of the ordinary. Through the first few sessions, via skill checks, attack rolls and everything else, they slowly learn about their stats. They take notes on modifiers you give them and piece by piece put together what their actual class and background is. I can see it being quite fun and a good roleplaying excercise. It also requires no background story whatsoever and you can fill in the blanks as you go through the campaign. The DM does have to do a lot more work than usual though, as they have to be familiar with all the PCs and their abilities, and engaged enough to offer bits of information on the char sheets to the players when it is appropriate. LEVEL 0 One interesting way to start is having the PCs be simple commoners in a village or small town. This takes care of having them need to get to know each other and having a reason for them to be there.  As you've probably gathered by now, I find these to be the main problems in regards to storytelling when starting a campaign. Similarily to the Amnesia start, PCs would not have classes to begin with. They would essentially be commoners with no special abilities. Then you introduce a plot point they need to deal with which will initiate them into the adventuring lifestyle. There are various ways to do that. The simple one would be a band of goblins/wolves attacking the farms. The difficulty here is risking a tpk because the PCs don't have any combat capabilities to speak of. You should probably encourage creative ways to deal with the problem rather than rush them into a combat encounter. I would, however, prefer something like a village fair with various games that nudge the PCs towards their respective classes - an archery competition, arm wrestling, hide-and-seek, etc. This also provides a ton of opportunities for social interaction. When you grow tired of the village life, introduce a new plot point and set the newly baked adventurers on their adventuring way. ISEKAI Anime has had an oversaturation of this genre in the past few years. That doesn't mean, however, that you can't go with it in your dnd game. This is actually my favorite potential way to start a campaign, and one I haven't tried or seen anyone do yet. If you don't know what "isekai" means, it is the trope of a regular Joe from our plain ol' boring world being transported into a video-game (usually a mmorpg) world, usually being overpowerd in said world and having to deal with their newfound circumstances. Your players would start off as regular people doing their regular everyday things and all of a sudden be transported into your dnd setting. This would be an interesting way of allowing meta player knowledge being used in game. Also an interesting roleplay excercize. They would essentiatlly be playing themselves as someone else - their new characters. Another way you could go about this is to have them play PCs from the real world from the get go and have them be transported into a dnd world. That way you could roleplay their characters knowing nothing about monsters, magic or fighting. I miss the excitement of not knowing what it is you're encountering. Nowadays, everyone knows what a goblin is... or a kobold, or a beholder... Imagine if you, as you are now, sitting in front of a computer, would all of a sudden be dropped into a cave with a beholder in front of you. Yup, I'd be terrified as well. . . There are a couple more common tropes I could mention, but I hope you got the gist of what's important and can adapt that to your own possibly original attempt to start a campaign. My start was not as elegant as it could have been if I had gone with one of the above, but I wanted evrything to play out as naturally as possible with a healthy dose of realism in game -so I started the PCs in the same small town with their own personal reasons for being there that all had a common thread which eventually brought them together. It actually took 2 sessions for them to convene at the same place and form a circumstantial party, but we got there and it was quite an excercise in DMing. Thanks for reading and, as always, have yourself some inspiration ;)

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