#how do I deal with arts that have wildly different sizes

[krysmcscience]

MOGUS ART DUMP TIME

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Brown, Red, and Green raised a kid together? Probably, because there's no fuckin' way that kid would end up normal by any stretch of the word, and it would be absolutely hilarious to watch the assured family drama unfold.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if the kid they raised came from an entirely different canon universe altogether? Probably not, but that's what's about to happen in this fukken post, because in an alternate timeline, the kid these three adopted turned out to be Shio. (Yes, that Shio - the one whose canonical appearance typically requires a Body Horror warning. If you want additional context about who tf Shio is, there’s a simple summary of them in this post (some of the deets for other characters is, kinda outdated or wildly inaccurate now, ahaha, C A M), or you can read the WIP for the novel they’re from here. Although, there’s some good or bad news if you take the latter route, depending: Shio doesn’t show up until the end of chapter three, and you already have hella spoilers going in, LOL.)

That being said, get ready for some family photos of our favorite trio of gay space pirates, who have managed to accidentally adopt an impostor baby from a whole other universe, which is a totally normal and average thing to happen to anyone ever, no big deal. Pay no attention to the fact that their brand new impostor baby used to be a literal war criminal, one who attempted to rage-quit life so hard over being dumped that the creation deity of their universe took one long look at them and decided, 'Ya know what would be funny? Resetting this piece of shit back to Babby Status without any memories whatsoever of who they used to be, and then tossing them out into space for a trio of some of the biggest chaosmongers in this other reality’s existence to stumble across and adopt because they think they've just found some weird cute animal, rather than a fully sapient being that is going to molt into what looks like a human baby in a little less than two years. That would be So Fucking Funny and it needs to happen Right Now.'

'Look at how tiny and cute and huggable this lil guy is, surely they will stay this way forever~' Oh, Brown, you poor sweet naive little man. Shio's only three here, they've got plenty of time to grow. >:3c

Plenty of time to grow and decide that they're more of a 'he' than a 'they' this time around, even.

Sweet/sad fact about Brown - he refuses to allow a child of his to go without love and support because of the way he lacked those things growing up (and in general). Hilarious fact about Brown to follow that up with, though - that does not mean he will be responsible and NOT put his all into teaching his child to become a notorious space pirate just like him (with - of course - the Full Backing of Green and Red). So, Shio might not become a war criminal, per se, but, uh. He is Definitely still gonna wind up becoming a criminal. <:]

Yes, Red's shirt says 'Puppy Cannon', and it is indeed a reference to 'Party Cannon', why do you ask? Shio's shirt, meanwhile, says 'Squish Bab', whereas Brown's says 'I woke up like this (48 hours ago)', and Green's gauges have 'BlaXk HUle' on them. (Crinkle assures me it's pronounced the same as 'black hole', and while my brain understands this logically, my eyeballs still have doubts.)

'Well, Shio has gotten bigger and taller than me despite him only being 13, but surely he won't get any bigger than this, right???' Keep dreaming, Brown, this isn't even Shio's final form size.

Has Shio already accompanied his parents on several heists and raids on MIRA property while in some manner of disguise by now? Not according to any of Devon's paperwork. Which Shio helps with on a consistent basis to give his parents some alone time. And who wouldn't trust the beloved Admiral's part-time assistant~? He's such a calm, quiet, and responsible young man~ ;) Pay no mind to the fact that, against Red's wishes and to Green's not-so-secret delight, Shio and Brown have recently and very intentionally caused a full-blown society-wide panic back in Shio's old universe, thanks in part to them learning about his past life and making a series of videos on social media entitled 'Shio Survived So Get Ready For ~Kill All Humanity PART TWO~ LOL'.

In case it's not fully legible, Brown's shirt reads 'I went to another universe and all I stole was my *awesome kid* (and 50 thousand dollars) ... (and a car)'. Meanwhile, Green's 'Slutstomper' gauges are in reference to an absolutely raunchy electropop band from Shio's ex-universe. Red's shirt will be revealed in the next photo, and I can assure you, he does not understand what it means the way Green and Brown do, and it was all Green's idea because he just has, you know. So much class.

'I can't believe my son can lift and carry all three of his parents like it's nothing now. I'm so mad, yet I couldn't be prouder.' People who knew Shio before they got reset tried to warn you that they were an Absolute Unit, Brown, but you didn't listen. This is what happens when you don't listen. 23 years later, you wind up with an adoptive son who can easily pick up not just you, but both of your boyfriends along with you.

Has Shio gone back for another visit to their old universe with Brown by now to fake going on a Kill All Humans crusade for the sake of causing more mass panic? ...Maybe. Did they trick Devon into letting them borrow one of his ships for this endeavor? ...Possibly. Did Red end up so furious that he made both of them do three months of community service to make up for it afterward, and banned them from letting Green go along to help them properly socialize? Well, yes - absolutely yes, in fact - but to be fair, they both knew Green would have spent most of his time there being a slutty menace and flirting with everyone, anyway, and neither of them wanted to have to deal with that. They were already being punished as it was (by having to help a bunch of needy people with a smile), so, no need to make it worse for themselves.

Brown's 'Stabby Babby' shirt definitely features an angry baby holding a knife on it, but Shio's arms are in the way because he's Just That Massive. Also, I apologize for Green and Brown (but mostly myself) for allowing that Pupknot shirt to exist on poor innocent Red. In Shio's defense, he has crafted a very solid mental block around what the joke is and thus Also does not understand what it means. And in my own defense, after coming up with two other puppyfied metal band names, how could I resist the horrible joke that would come out of doing the same to Slipknot? (Okay, that's less of a defense and more of an outright admission of guilt.) As for Green's decals and patches, if anyone wants to see the full-size versions of them for whatever reason, let me know, because I put an absurd amount of work into them, and I want a reason beyond my own fragile artist ego to compile them all into a single cohesive image. Also, in regards to the 'VB' on Green's gauges and one of his patches, it stands for 'Video Bois', which is sort of an AU-canon term for their polycule (video cables = RGB = Red, Green, Brown).

Oh, wait, what's that eldritch creature way off in the background, you ask?

...

Don't worry about it. :)

#among us #art #fanart #original characters #only shio is mine lol #crinklytinfoil #NSFA #brown is the supportive dad #green is the cool dad #and red is the sweet dad #they are Excellent Parents and yet - at the same time - Terrible Parents XD #their child is loved and supported and taken care of #their child is also a terrifying force of a space pirate who likes to play Secret Mind Games with their targets #still better than what COULD have happened with shio tho #because i cannot stress this enough #they were a Literal War Criminal in their past life #also i actually did not realize the implicit What The Fuck in the Pupknot joke until i was already halfway done with the logo WHOOPS XD

[cfcreative]

If you still want some of the Tav Ask questions about Kory... how about 14, 15, and 18?

Thanks @optiwashere! I get to throw in some fun tidbits for these:

14. Where are they from? What was home like?

This one is interesting because Korydass can split her life (pre-tadpole) into two major “homes.”

The one I’ve already spoken about, her “Homewood” is nowhere special or in particular, nor is it any place in an official setting; the name I gave it was “The Thornlore Woods.” Having a lone dragonborn druid tending to it was probably the closest it got to having any claim to fame. As mentioned in another post, locals started calling it “The Green-Eyed Wood,” because of the number of animals with “strange green eyes” spotted there—all of them just Kory in a druid forms, watching those who passed through.

Kory didn’t have a set place she stayed in the wood, so much as she had stashes of supplies throughout. She knew where all the best nooks to nestle in were, without disturbing any of the animals that already lived there. There were a handful of animals she made regular conversation with: a few corvids, at least one boar, some bears, and the occasional deer. The nearest village was a few hours away by foot, shorter by flight. She’d go into town to barter supplies if she really needed it, and a handful of times helped lost or injured travelers out.

Her first home was her Grandsire’s sea cave, and had Kory been given a choice in the matter she might have never left.

Fayencrux didn’t hoard treasure so much as he had a wealth of books and art and other things that had once adorned his home when he spent his life with his wife. He even has a section of his cave that is built to be suited for an average-sized dragonborn to live in. Kory was hatched, named, and raised by her Grandsire, and spent most of her time there studying from books and learning from him. It wasn’t until later that she realized some of his teachings—particularly on social interactions—were out-of-date. That’s what happens when you’ve spent a few hundred years away from civilization in a prolonged period of mourning/depression.

Speaking of being out-of-touch, Fayencrux took dragonborn being “of age” at fifteen too literally—that was when he dumped Korydass on her own in the wild and forbid her from returning.

(Fayencrux no longer wishes to watch his descendants “wither and die like mayflies,” hence the complete banishment.)

Thus, Kory started her druidic path out of necessity, and kept to it because she found a peace in living as one with nature…

…also it was a great excuse to avoid people.

15. Is your Tav more likely to fight/flight/freeze/fawn?

Social situations: Freeze. Kory feels wildly inadequate when dealing with other humanoids, and when she isn’t completely frozen she defaults to manners that are so formal and also so antiquated that it probably would have been better to have stayed frozen.

In Combat: Fight. If you asked Korydass how she sees herself she would say something to the effect of “Guardian Druid” and she takes that “Guardian” part very seriously. She favors larger animal forms and puts herself between her friends and danger.

18. Where/with whom do they feel safest?

The too-easy “with whom” answer is Karlach, followed by the rest of the companions, because honestly… Kory didn’t have a lot of other contact with people before this whole tadpole shindig.

The more complicated answer is her Grandsire. Had he not thrown her out, Kory would have stayed attached to his hip for life. Not out of a sense of fear of the outside world, bit because he was kind and gentle for being what he was, and did always try to do right by her. His perspective was just… too different for that to work out well. (Korydass is better for having been forced from his side, though it certainly didn’t feel that way to her at the time).

Now, if you want to instantly see Kory happy and at peace, all you need to do is present her with a river deep enough to swim in, preferably near to a waterfall, with large, flat rocks on the shore. I am a sucker for adding lizard-like traits to Kory’s behavior beyond the quirks she’s picked up from other animals, and she will sun herself on rocks, then dive into the river to swim and cool off, then sun herself again and repeat this process for hours. If you don’t interrupt her, she will easily lose the whole day.

Thank you again for the asks, Opti!

If anyone else wants to ask something, the list is here!

My answers to 2, 3, 4, and 6 can be found in this post!

My answers to 5, 11, and 16 are in this post!

#bg3 #baulders gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #my tav #oc: korydass #tav lore #CF Answers! #Look! Less of a ramble! For once!

[moonie-presence]

canvas, wardrobe, & alternate for the oc ask game ?? any character(s) of your choice!! :3

omg hi!!! Ty

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

Du Vide, unless im misremembering, is my only oc with tattoos. They span his entire body, neck to toes, and he did them himself, sewing needle stick n' poke style. I doubt he'd have trusted any one else to ink them.

Since du vide is an upcoming ttrpg character and my fellow players follow me i wont go into detail regarding why he has them by he definitely has them for a reason, relating to his work in experimental machinery/technology. Any good mad scientist tests things on themselves first, obviously.

As for covered up or not, he doesn't make any real effort either way, due to the size of the tattoos. he's usually pretty covered, but he doesn't care if they get seen, theyre not secret. as for why they don't show up in the art usually is because i hate drawing them. weeps

wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?

Courtland is a notable character wardrobe-wise because i designed him to be so unredrawable due to my madness

pictured: madness

Courtland's wardrobe is relatively large but most of his clothes look the same. The clothes he's wearing up there are his work uniform, so it's what he's usually wearing day to day with a few changes.

however he does have other clothes in line with what you'd expect from an aristocrat, like day clothes, outing clothes, outrageous party clothes, etc. Courtland's got *very* extravagant party clothes. he doesn't get the opportunity to wear them often and isn't very fond of them anyway.

as for when his clothes get fucked up, he's very good at repair. sewing and the like is one of his favorite hobbies!

here's him under all that fabric;

alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!

when it comes to AUs, the one i end up landing on a lot for the earthshakers is the classic "what if it all never happened"/"what if they lived"

theres exactly one post on here (or the art blog i dont remember) explaining what the deal is with purgatory so heres a quick rundown: In the spaces between realities exists a vast, wild, metaphysical plane referred to occasionally as purgatory, which is a roiling melting pot that chews people up and spits them out as fantastic monsters. getting there is extremely difficult, but the hands down easiest way is to die, and fall through a weakness or crack in your reality when transitioning from life to afterlife.

Since the creatures in purgatory are always changing to suit their needs and there is no true ceiling for what can happen to you, occasionally a particularly strong-willed individual will grab unmatched, omnipotent power and become something called an earthshaker, the highest most feared echelon of purgatorian life. not gods, but damn well close. The earthshakers i've designed are Wellium (aka Lux, or the White Light), Videns, and Seleen.

(psa: this is a creative project? headworld? thing? ive been working on for literally upwards of 6-7 years now. I consider it my special interest, but its kind of nebulous and wordy and i get Too Excited about it so i end up rotating it around in my head a lot instead of talking about it)

Each of the three come from wildly different places/settings, and each has a grisly death, leading to their conquering of the endless voidplane. It's a fun thought to think about, about where they'd be if they just never died at all.

Wellium was once a soldier, a test tube baby/experimental weapon used in an intergalatic war. Eventually after a life of training to kill the unfamiliar, her life was considered inconsequential enough to be selected to guide and activate an experimental bomb to attempt to wipe out their enemy. Videns was a child born with select supernatural powers, and out of fear and superstition was drowned in a river by a mob of villagers after a life of living on the run. Seleen, a magician, was born with too much magic, and died when her body couldn't handle the strain anymore.

like. Videns could have found a place where she couldve flourished and been accepted. Seleen couldve pursued other paths in life instead of obsessing over her own impeding death and the use of the very thing that doomed her. Wellium couldve gone home.

their deaths are tragic, but theyre what set them on the path to kinghood and make them the creatures they are now. however, due to the way their universes work, there are realities where they did live, and lived full lives. got the chances to become people. its fun to think about!

what is and what was.

again ty soooo much for the ask! sorry that this post is dashboard destroying lol

#purgatory setting #lux / wellium #du vide #courtland #ask game #long post #videns futura #seleen moramor #holy fuck a reason to talk about earthshakers #i am. so emo. about them #if you count it a lot of the stuff i draw about them being silly and the like is an AU bc #a lot of the ''canon'' stuff is just brutal!

[ac3id]

The Artist and His Majesty| 18+

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝒿𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓎 0 / 5 | fantasy au. 

chapter i , chapter ii

pairings: yandere! emperor! shigaraki x female! reader.

warnings: [series] dubcon, exhibitionism, size difference, degradation, masturbation, bondage, reader is also kind of delusional, death, violence (not on reader). (there are more but i can’t think right now.]

↪ for chapter 0: none !!

summary: you come to the big city in hopes of starting your career as an artist but things take a shocking turn when you’re recruited as the court painter for the royal palace.

↪ for chapter 0: a strange man approaches you, offering to buy your painting to which you oblige. little do you know that it kicks of a series of unfortunate events ending with you being trapped in shigaraki tomura’s clutches forever.

wordcount. 

a/n: finally !! i started this series. high-key inspired by these two dresses in my wardrobe and @ana-list‘s this  drawing ! seriously it’s literally everything. also thank you once again for proof reading this @the-grimm-writer ! 

taglist: @shigaraki-is-my-master, @deathmemeiverse, @n4dhii, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @mstssister, @nereida19, @prince-zukohere [dm to be added/ removed.]

“That’s a beautiful painting,” a rough, scruffy voice calls out, jerking you away from your daydreams. Your grip around the color canvas resting in your arms tightens as you glance behind your shoulder to see a well-built man standing right behind you. He’s tall and a lot older than you, he has short grey hair which falls right before his eyebrows along beautiful, matching grey eyes. A cigar hangs lazily from his lips as he occasionally huffs on it, blowing clouds of smoke out his mouth. He’s dressed in expensive robes, a choice of style only people better off could afford. You can’t help exachaning a covetous glance between his expensive suit and your sloppy, knee-length, light green dress. “Thank you.” you murmur shoving him an appreciative look, hoping he’d leave you alone. When you come to the city to complete your studies in art, you mother, father, family and friends had warned you about men like these. Rich, snobby men who liked to lure in young, naive girls. Whispering praises of how they are the most unique on the planet so they pull their guard down form them to take advantage of the helpless beings. 

“Can I take a better look? It’s the Emperor, is it not? Your painting. ” You hesitate before turning back to him. Not a lot of people had seen the King to be. He lived humbly in his castle, trying his best to not indulge in the affairs of the common people. “ Yes,” you hold up the slightly small canvas (courtesy of you being broke the entire week and not being able to save up to buy a bigger canvas). To even get an idea of Shigaraki Tomura, you had to go through many people. Not a lot of people had seen his face, he had always kept it hidden under a mask. No one knew why he did so but the many conspiracy throes suggested it was something to do with his personal grief.

 You had heard many stories about him. Some made him look like a spoiled brat with a demeaning, ignorant personality who didn’t care for others and as the rumors said: self destructive habits which lead him to tear the skin of his own neck down whenever he got anxious or frustrated. 

Others portrayed him as a strong, confident man and a reliable leader who cared for his comrades. You did not know which one of the two personas brought him your attention but you couldn’t complain. Tomura had caught you under a spell, and despite never meeting him (and knowing full well you never would), you were still ready to sacrifice your life for him. He was your King even before he had taken his crown, to you he looked like a shining bright light ready to enlighten you. To you, he was a god. And as years passed by, he grew from a caterpillar into a cocoon which was ready to burst open as a butterfly into the beautiful, mysterious world. And it was happening today, Prince Tomura Shigaraki’s Coronation ceremony. After the passing of All For One, it was his turn to take the crown and fulfill his duty as the ruler of the nation

 The entire city was busy, bustling with people. Families, friends and everyone in between gathered around the huge castle walls as they waited for the ceremony to begin. They waited patiently, filled with excitement and joy as they waited to catch a glimpse of the new great King. You were among them. You had come down to the centre of the city with your friends, waiting alongside many to catch a glimpse of the new ruler. The painting which nestled in your hand was something you were hoping to sell today, to a shop or anyone who wants to have it. It was a beautiful painting which had taken you several days to complete, and dare you say it, you were quite proud of it. From all the things you had heard about Tomura, you had managed to sketch him decently. Long white, wavy hair reaching till his shoulder, skin white as snow. He sat proudly on his throne wearing a cape with his vermillion eyes peering through your soul. His face was scarcely detailed as you did not have much idea about it but he still looked ethereal. With little scars running both his eyes and a comparatively larger one on his right. Chapped lips with even more scars running over them wildly, he was not conventionally attractive. No one would call him a pretty boy yet there was something more, something alluring which attracted  you to him. His beauty was rare, not in the grasp of many but if it was grasped and held close to the heart, it was hard to let go off. And you found him attractive, very attractive. 

The man took a good look at your painting, examining it carefully and for a second you really thought he had seen the mysterious Prince. “It’s quite similar to him,” he sends you a friendly grin and you notice a tooth from his front missing, leaving an uncomfortable gap. “Have you seen him before?” he asked and you shake your head, no. He gives you an amused expression, “I must say, you are very talented, miss…?” you complete your name with a nervous smile. “And you are?” you ask. 

You realised that you were getting a little too comfortable with the stranger and it could be a really bad decision but you can’t help but give him the benefit of the doubt as he behaves like a gentleman you can find yourself to trust. “Kagero Okuta but I like to go by Giran,” he says with a lop-sided grin. Giran, you’ve heard the name before but cannot recall where and how. It sounds so familiar but you just can’t grasp it, he looked wealthy so you assumed he was a Noble and that made you even more curious as to why he was speaking to you.

 “What are you planning to do with that painting?” he asks, diving a closer look and admiring its features. “I must say, you’ve got it quite accurate but,” you stiffen, your hands growing cold as your heartbeat picks up. You realized your painting must have some complications, drawing a man you had never seen before purely out of your interpretation was a hard and a bold task to do. But to have someone who had actually seen the King for himself pinpoint your mistakes sent a rush of anxiety through your veins.

 “He’s not that bony.” He completes and you gulp nervously, looking down at your painting in disappointment. Your eyes are filled with disappointment,  all of the time and effort you spent making the piece all for it go in vain just because you missed a small detail. Giran notices your remorse and speaks up, “But that’s quite alright. He looked just like that until a while ago,” he hadn’t meant to offend or hurt you. He still believed your painting was the most beautiful thing he had seen all day.

 “What do you mean?” you ponder, giving him a perplexed look. He leans  in closer to you as if to tell a secret, “let’s say the King has been working out behind closed doors.” you blink in confusion. It was a strange thing to say, exactly how well did this man know the Emperor? Who was it that you were talking? 

“Who are you?” you can’t help but question, bewildered by such a character. Giran says nothing. He just stares at you with his lips curled into a snappy smirk, holding his cigar between his lips. He was not going to tell you anything. Without wasting time, he quickly changes the topic. “What are you going to do with that painting?” he repeats, his voice growing impatient.

 “I am planning to sell it,” you feel a bit taken back. The friendly aura which had Giran had now disappeared for a reason you could not conclude. “Sell it? To whom?” the intruding nature of his tone starts to make you uncomfortable, there’s nothing more you want to do other than get far away from him. Yet you still find yourself answering him, “To anyone who wants it.” he hums at your response, his eyes holding a mocking glint. “Wouldn’t you like to give it to the Emperor himself?” you frown, was he mocking you? 

“That’s well...impossible.” you reply, stretching your neck awkwardly. “To you, maybe.” 

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, this man was really testing your patience. A part of you tells you to ignore him and walk away but as he reaches into his coat and pulls out a bag of coins worth much more than you could ever earn in a month, he has you hooked yet again. 

“Hey, let me buy that painting, would yer’?” 

.

..

..

“What is the problem now?” Giran takes a seat around the round table. It was late after the Coronation ceremony and the Royal palace was already facing problems. Giran was disappointed but definitely not surprised. After all, he was their personal problem solver and broker. “It’s not that big of a deal.” A curt and hard reply cut him off.

 “It actually is, Shigaraki Tomura.” a voice speaks, coming from a man dressed in a black suit with a long, flowy robe covering his entire body. He stands taller than the other two men in the as his head is replaced with a wisp of smoke. He was none other than the trusted and talented magician of the Royal family. With eccentric features and an ability to wield strange magic, nobody knew where he came from. There were many rumors about him; that he was once a normal, handsome man cursed by a witch that turned him into a hideous monster or he simply was a ghost. “What is it, Kurogiri?” Giran rephrases his question, directing it to the other man. “We need a new painter,-” 

“Servant.” Shigaraki corrected. He stood in front of the giant windows glancing over his city as his men talked about hiring a new painter for the castle. He couldn’t care less about such tedious tasks, he had his focus set on greater things like expanding his territory, taking back stolen land. 

“What happened to Mr. Kyo?” Giran asked, Shigaraki rolled his eyes at the mention of the name and clicked his tongue, “His Majesty eliminated him.” Giran stops himself from laughing out loud. He was certain once Shigaraki would take over the throne incidents like so would double the instant. But he was expecting it to happen so soon. “And why was that?” 

“He was breathing too loud, like you are right now.” 

A cold silence broke over the room as Giran counted his breath. Kurogiri looked nervously at Shigaraki who still had his back turned to them. The longer the pause grew, the dreadful the atmosphere became. Shigaraki’s threat strung the air loud and clear and Giran was afraid to speak again. “What we are asking for is that-,” Kurogiri started in a calm, slow tone easing the tension in the room. “-we need a new court painter. Do you have any names?” 

The murderous sent in the air magically disappeared as a grin stretched across Giran’s face. 

“Aren’t you in luck?” He says, running a hand through his hair before taking a puff out of his cigar. “Does that mean you know someone?” Kurogiri questioned. Giran hummed, “You see, I met this beautiful painter today. She’s extremely talented and I know for a fact she will love working for the castle.” 

“What’s the name?” growing impatient, Shigaraki asks. “Oh, it was,” Giran pauses for a moment to recall. 

“Ah yes, Y/N L/N.” 

#shigaraki.🤍 #shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader smut #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki x reader smut #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #my hero academia shigaraki #yandere bnha #bnha yandere #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere #bnha x reader #bnha smut #yandere smut #bnha #yandere fics #yandere bnha smut #yandere bnha x reader #yandere lov #yandere x reader #yandere writings #yandere scenarios

[ckret2]

Alright let’s talk GVK spoilers!!!

My reactions as best I can remember them!

- love how Kong is humanized from the very first scene, like every time he shows up he’s humanized so much more than other titans are. If that was at the expense of other titans being made likable I wouldn’t enjoy it so much, but like, Godzilla is made pretty lovable over the course of Monsterverse, Mothra is too, and all the titans featured for long are given recognizable emotions that let us see them as more intelligent and feeling than “just” animals; so all of them are made understandable/likable/sympathetic. But of them all, Kong is the only one really humanized. Which makes sense, because like, big monkey! Basically our distant cousin!

- And they kept playing, like, normal songs for him, which cracked me up.

- I really appreciated how you could SEE the titans in this movie. After all the weather effects to hide the titans in KOTM, there was such a clear difference in this one from the very start. Kong in the daylight! Godzilla makes his first attack at night, and even then you can see him much more clearly than you can for most of KOTM! Nice!

- after the Iwi were portrayed as silent stoic witnesses in Skull Island, I really appreciated that they took an Iwi character, made her a main character, and gave her dialogue and a real role to play in the story while also keeping her deaf/mute. I think that was a good way to improve on the way that the Iwi got got sidelined in the last movie while still maintaining the worldbuilding!

- I didn’t appreciate so much that, y’know, they murdered the rest of her people off-screen in order to do it. Couldn’t they have gone “her parents died so she got adopted by a Monarch agent that was close to her family, but like, the rest of her tribe is fine”? Or at the very least “their island got fucked up so they had to be evacuated but like they’re settling in somewhere else”? “They’re living under this island dome with Kong and they know what’s up and Monarch’s keeping them in the loop and they decided they’re chill with their new dome home, but this one girl likes to go on adventures with Monarch”? Something? Did we have to kill them all off? Y’all make up an entire fictional indigenous culture and then murder them off-screen when you don’t need them? Just let them live.

- a few minutes in I was like “hold on, we’ve got two characters that speak sign language, we’ve got a giant gorilla, gorillas learn sign language, is there any reason they can’t teach Kong?” and then later I was like “OOOOOH!!” Humans and titans learning how to communicate with each other has been one of my favorite themes to explore in Monsterverse fanfic so I was absolutely tickled to see it getting explored in canon, too.

- That said I think it’s hilarious that the girl managed to teach Kong to sign without, like... anybody seeing. Kong’s hands are above the tree line and there are cameras everywhere, how did NOBODY with Monarch see him signing.

- Bernie’s weaponized being an annoying coworker to such a degree it can only be called an art, and I really appreciated it.

- Godzilla’s extra chonky in this movie and I dig it. Roomie noted he was extra crocodilian and I dig that too.

- “There’s been no confirmed titan sightings in three years” I don’t buy that for a minute. They’re BIG. Rodan NESTS IN VOLCANOES. They found a MOTHRA EGG. Humans have A SCARILY WELL-FUNDED ORGANIZATION DEDICATED SOLELY TO FOLLOWING TITANS AROUND. Like, most of the lore in GVK that I don’t personally like, I can be like “eh... I can tweak it just a little bit with headcanons to make it work for me...” but NO confirmed titan sightings? You expect me to believe ALL of them moved underground when we’d previously seen them all prefer to live above ground? You expect me to believe that now that they’re all AWAKE, they learned how to HIDE?? Uh-uh. And at the end of KOTM there was stuff in the credits about using titan droppings as biofuel, obviously they’re still walking around up top! Can’t take that from me. Nope.

- Who the FUCK is Ren Serizawa and how is he related to Ishiro Serizawa? IS he related? Maybe they just dropped the surname as another “yeah this is a Godzilla movie for Godzilla fans” easter egg but I have a hard time believing that he can’t be somehow related to the other character with the Very Important Last Name who was so important in the last two Godzilla movies. If he is related I’m sure it’s been explained in a tie-in comic or the novelization or something, I’ll look it up later.

- I had to look up how much weight huge battleships can carry while writing a KOTM fic where Ghidorah hitches a ride on one, and y’all, I had to pull weird gravity-negating magic to get him to ride on that boat. Godzilla and Kong woulda sunk that boat like a rock. All I could think during that scene is “this wouldn’t work and I know that because I DID THE RESEARCH and I wasn’t even getting PAID.” I’ll choose to believe that Monarch gets special heavy duty ships designed to carry titans but nobody mentioned it because it wasn’t relevant to Kong’s journey.

- The bit where they could see where Godzilla was swimming because he’d got half a ship hooked to him that was bobbing around on the surface, didn’t Jaws do something like that with a buoy? It’s been ages since I’ve seen Jaws. Anyway good reference.

- Insert “they’re gonna need a bigger boat” joke

- I LOVED the part where they shut down all the ships to get Godzilla to leave. Both because, one, it’s a spectacular callback to KOTM’s “turn off all the guns so he knows we’re not a threat” that makes it seem like now that’s just what Monarch knows what to do to get G to chill out, and two... we know that Godzilla backs off either when he’s killed his enemy or when his enemy has yielded to him. At the end of KOTM—and the end of GVK—the act of yielding is presented as very ceremonial and uniform across species: everyone lowers anything they’ve got that could be dangerous (claws, fangs, beaks, axes) and bows to show Godzilla they’re not gonna fight. Battleships, obviously, can’t bow, but even without being inducted into whatever secret titan cultural intricacies might be going on, humans have figured out their own way to “bow” to Godzilla: cut all the power, so their ships can’t move and can’t use weapons. I know the movie presented it as “playing dead,” but c’mon, if Godzilla could hear MechaG power up from halfway around the planet then he could hear that Kong’s heart was still beating, and he’s been around enough boats to know humans can turn them off and on when they want. The humans bowed to Godzilla. He accepted that they yielded and left.

- Mark Russell looked like such a dad in this movie, like he’s retired 100% from being a rugged action hero and now he’s just Pure Dad. I like him better when he’s a dad, it’s a good development for him. He got like 3 lines and I’m like “I appreciate this character development.”

- Despite all my qualms about how conspiracy theories and extremist groups are handled in Monsterverse (and WHICH conspiracy theories they decide to reference), I really love Madison and Bernie’s dynamic. The adult man who’s the excitable wide-eyed believer in every BS conspiracy you can possibly imagine; and then the serious, severe Teenage Girl On A Mission who’s hypercompetent because she was raised for five years by a friggin doomsday cult militia; and despite having wildly different personalities they’re just, in total agreement about everything. Handled just a BIT differently (like, leaving out the more gross IRL conspiracies) they would be a wildly fun comedic duo—especially with Josh the Only Sane Man coming along as the hapless sidekick. And they all play off of each other so well! Both in a comedic sense, and in more serious moments—when Bernie talked about his wife, there was a real moment of empathy between him and Madison with very little said. I’d watch an entire movie just about the three of them. I’d watch a TV show.

- On the one hand I wasn’t too much of a fan of KOTM’s “all titans... are inherently In Tune With Nature... nature has a Balance, because that’s a Real Thing and not an anthropocentric concept to describe how we like nature to act, and they automatically restore it... because they’re like, some kinda borderline divinities or something... we should probably be worshipping them...” thing; but, now that it was totally absent in GVK, I sorta miss it. Like I feel like there needs to be a balance, a few humans who are like “i lowkey worship these dudes?” and a few others who are like “they’re cool but like, that’s a lil extreme” and that neither side be presented as Right in how they regard titans’ relationship with nature.

- “All titans come from THE HOLLOW EARTH” nah I don’t buy that it’s silly. Basically, what I object to is the idea that all titans have some sort of intrinsic similarity (they all come from the same hitherto-unknown location; they all are part of the same pack that has the same alpha; they all are fueled/fed by the same energy source; etc) rather than letting them be SEPARATE species whose only unifying traits are “they’re all big enough to fuck everything up everywhere they go” and “they’re big enough that the typically-insurmountable barriers between different biomes (mountain ranges, valleys, long distances with terrible weather) aren’t insurmountable for them, so even if they’re specialized in different environments they still all have to deal with each other pretty often.” I’ll make some exceptions for convergent evolution (i.e., claiming multiple titans developed similar traits that are relatively easy to spontaneously evolve and a prerequisite for a creature to survive at such a large size). But I can’t buy “this big gorilla has more biologically in common with this big crocodile-iguana than he does with, say, gorillas,” or most of the other “all these titans have THIS IN COMMON” claims that Monsterverse makes, including “everyone’s from hollow earth.” So I’m tossing that out the window and substituting my own headcanons. Some might’ve evolved there but some evolved on the surface. Maybe a majority of them like ducking in and out of the hollow earth like some kind of titan shortcut system. Kong’s species, I can buy, IS native to hollow earth, considering that they built a whole-ass society down there with tools and architecture.

- I’m SO curious about the little underground Kong home, the Godzilla motif in the floor, and the axe that appeared to be made with a Godzilla scute. What’s the story there??? We know Godzilla’s species and Kong’s species are ancient rivals. Is it because Kong’s species hunted Godzilla’s to steal their scutes to make weapons, seeing them as a valuable resource the way, like, early humans considered woolly mammoths a valuable resource—thus making that Godzilla on the floor equivalent to cave art of mammoths made by people who hunted them—until the Godzillas got pissed and started fighting back en masse? Or were Godzillas and Kongs already enemies when Kongs decided to start making weapons out of their corpses? Did they use to be allies, fighting together, with Godzillas voluntarily offering shed scutes and/or bones of their deceased members to Kongs, and that place used to be a shared home until they started fighting?

- What about that power source, is it something that was already there that both Kongs and Godzillas started to deliberately harvest for technology/atomic breath? Or did Godzillas automatically channel that stuff and Kongs exploited/borrowed/traded with Godzillas to utilize it too? Or is the power from Godzillas who collaboratively poured a bunch of power into the place thus that Kongs were able to use it too? I doubt Godzilla’s species CREATED all that weird energy but the question remains of whether, like, they channel it FROM underground, or naturally produce the same thing in their own bodies, or what.

- Godzilla using his atomic breath to dig a hole STRAIGHT TO KONG just to KICK HIS ASS is hilarious. How lucky that Hong Kong just HAPPENS to be straight over Kong’s house! Were all the tunnels to the hollow earth made by pissed off Godzillas who wanted to kick monkey ass??

- I loved the aesthetic of the battle scene in Hong Kong, with the brightly colored neon building outlines, VERY cool look. The choreography of the battle scene was great too, especially

- we literally broke into applause when Kong shoved the axe handle in Godzilla’s mouth. Love it, perfect callback, that was the ONE thing from the original King Kong Vs Godzilla I was hoping to see referenced and there it was.

- You could really see a difference in how Kong and Godzilla fought—Kong doing a better job at using tools and the environment, Godzilla fighting more like a reptile. They seemed to emphasize Godzilla’s more animalistic behaviors in this movie to accomplish that contrast—he was down on all fours and moving like a crocodile more often, he was clawing at Kong’s chest—but even though it seemed a bit different of a combat technique it also didn’t seem out of place compared to how he fought in prior movies. And we’ve already seen that if Godzilla’s involved in a fight and one of the combatants knows how to use the environment, it’s typically not gonna be Godzilla. (See: Ghidorah using the reflection in a building’s windows to see what’s behind him, and recognizing a nearby power source and biting it to juice himself up.)

- So many of Godzilla’s enemies seem to have specialized in negating his atomic breath in order to combat him! The MUTOs directly suppress his ability to use it—and it makes sense that that’s an inborn ability they have, since they evolved to use Godzilla’s species as prey. Kong has a weapon that both acts as a shield to absorb the breath and turn it back against Godzilla’s species—they didn’t evolve to counter Godzilla, but they developed tools once a rivalry happened. Ghidorah’s the exception—which makes sense, since he came from space—but even at that we see him using tactics specifically to take into account Godzilla’s most powerful weapon (such as keeping one head on lookout for when he starts glowing so that they know when they need to dodge).

- LOVED the reveal that MechaG was based off of Ghidorah’s brain, it has vibes of both the Kiryu Saga and the way that Heisei MechaG is based off of Mecha-King Ghidorah. Not the most surprising plot twist, since we’d theorized that they might use San to make MechaG, but I wasn’t 100% sure they were gonna go with it until they finally did. Even when I was going “huh, the mecha pilot’s chamber looks weirdly organic” I didn’t make the connection to WHY until the reveal, lol.

- “Ghidorah’s necks are so long that the heads have to communicate with each other telepathically” that’s COMPLETELY WILD but I love it, it follows very well from their prior portrayal as telepathic empaths in Heisei, it lines up with their emphasis on electricity (because BRAINWAVES AND ELECTRICITY, hey ho movie monster pseudo science!), and it very much compliments my own private headcanon that they’ve got some psychic/mind control abilities.

- The movie ended with both “Godzilla won, technically” but also “since they teamed up as equals, the ending doesn’t FEEL like ‘Godzilla wins, Kong loses’ but rather ‘they both won against a common foe’” and since I’m on both Team Godzilla and Team They Should Be Friends, I’m happy with this outcome. Plus since the last time they fought, the Japanese movie company graciously let the American monster win, so it’s only polite that the American movie company graciously let the Japanese monster win.

- There were just a few too many humans in this movie. I was intrigued by Ren but we didn’t get much out of him, but like I guess somebody had to be in the pilot’s seat other than the Apex CEO. Didn’t care for the author of the hollow earth book, I feel like his role was superfluous. Didn’t need the Apex CEO’s daughter there at all, coulda done without her. How about this, combine all three roles. Instead of having a whole-ass author who knows about the hollow earth, just casually reference that Rick from KOTM wrote a book about it since he was the expert, and (since he wasn’t in this movie) say that he tragically died going to explore the hollow earth himself, and that way we’ve got the book with the “titans are from there” theory AND an excuse to share the “humans die when they go underground” info. Now, have Ren be working for Apex as a pilot for Mechagodzilla, but have him be MechaG’s pilot because he’s also a good pilot in general, and can fly those HEAV things. Have Apex send him to Monarch to be like “hey, you guys trust me right, since I’m Ishiro Serizawa’s relative? We at Apex have heard all about your failed hollow earth expedition, and due to Ishiro I’ve got some past ties to Monarch so I’ve got high clearance with y’all, so I could bring over this useful Apex tech that’d let you go underground and use what I know about hollow earth from my past time at Monarch to help guide things.” Once they’ve got the little chunk of energy stuff and go topside, he hustles it straight to Apex and straps into his seat to run MechaG. Bam, you’ve combined “person who knows enough about hollow earth to help the expedition,” “person who represents Apex’s interests and gets the energy,” and “person who pilots MechaG” into one character, in a way that takes three flat/underdeveloped characters and turns them into a single interesting character with a lot going on and some intriguing ties to the rest of the cast.

I think that’s everything?? Hoo.

#gvk #godzilla vs kong #gvk spoilers #godzilla vs kong spoilers #godzilla #meta

[samanthadalton]

So we meet again part 3 (finale)

pairings: Poppy x Bea

the last part of the series! hope you guys enjoy this❤️(also i marked parts as flashbacks in case it gets confusing, also i didnt read over it thoroughly so i apologise for any mistakes) 

NSFW, bit of swearing 

taglist: @cloud9in @somewillwin @alleycat97 @baexpoppy @save-me-the-last-dance @helpconfusedpersonhere @dopeyouth @iamsimpforpoppy @alexlabhont @thedaft1 @veenast @cloakanddaggerthings @crazzyplays 

wordcount: 3.5k (a nice long ending ig) 

part 1 and part 2 is available in case you need a refresher Part 1 Part 2

*Flashback* 

After the Christmas Party, the lines between Poppy’s rules had been beginning to blur, with the two women meeting up more often and Poppy would even sneak over to Bea’s dorm, granted if Zoey wasn’t there. Poppy would let Bea stay for cuddling, for they would skip sex and go straight to just holding each other in either comfortable silence or talk about anything and everything.  

“So where’s new money?” Poppy takes the hood of her coat, as she enters the dorm, conspicuously glancing around the apartment. 

“She’s gone to LA for a bit to be with her mom. Come let’s go to my room.” Bea nods towards the strawberry blonde, and Poppy saunters past her, already on her way to the room. Bea follows, a wolfish grin on her face as she pushes Poppy against her bedroom door, placing her lips against hers, for a long kiss. 

“Eager are we Farmsville?” Poppy breaks the kiss, her eyes burning into Bea’s, her eyes gleaming with amusement. Bea answers with a kiss, her fingers gripping at Poppy’s sides, as her eyes burn with desire. Bea leads her to the bed, pushing the strawberry blonde onto the bed before covering her body with hers, already locked in a passionate embrace.

“Bea…” Poppy moans out, as Bea scrapes her teeth against her neck, before softly biting down. Bea smiles against her neck, kissing up to her jaw, her eyes meet Poppy’s, full of admiration. She leans down, nipping at Poppy’s lips as her hands find her way under her clothes, stroking the junctures of her hips eliciting goosebumps. She makes quick word of stripping Poppy of her clothes, before taking off her own, wildly throwing them around the bedroom as she kisses Poppy with great intensity. Bea presses her knee between Poppy’s legs, as Poppy slowly rocks her hips against it, deepening the friction. “God!” Poppy screams out, as Bea begins alternating between kissing and biting as she moves down her body, until her head lies between the strawberry blonde’s legs. 

Bea slowly rubs Poppy’s thighs, slowly pulling them apart as she gives a teasing lick to her inner thigh, evoking a sharp intake of breath from Poppy. “Do you like that?” Poppy violently nods her head, her fingers intertwining in Bea’s hair, pulling her head closer. Bea begins sucking lightly at Poppy’s button, her fingers teasing Poppy’s entrance before dipping inside, pumping in and out. Poppy’s toes curl as she lets out a loud moan, her head thrown back. 

The room is quiet, excluding the heavy panting of the two women, as Bea moves up onto the bed, her arm snaking around Poppy’s waist, pulling her closer. Poppy subconsciously begins drawing lazy shapes against Bea’s stomach, lost in thought. 

“You okay?”

“Hmm?” 

“Are you okay?” 

Poppy shudders, moving closer to Bea, “just a little cold.” 

“I can fix that,” Bea shuffles off her bed, moving towards her closet before pulling a hoodie off a hanger before throwing it at the strawberry blonde, “here.” 

“I’m not wearing that.” 

“Fine stay cold.” Bea nonchalantly shrugs before getting back into the bed. 

Poppy stares at the hoodie, contemplative for a few moments, before sighing heavily, before sliding off the bed, putting the hoodie on. She pulls down at the hem slightly, the size of the hoodie making her seem smaller than usual. 

Bea’s eyes languidly roams Poppy’s body, “see, fit for a queen.” 

*Present* 

Over the next couple of months, Bea and Poppy had been going on more dates, enjoying each other’s company and reigniting their past passion while exploring the new depths of their relationship. However it wasn’t always good, old habits die hard and with Poppy and Bea, they had a lot of bad habits. 

“I just don’t get why it’s such a big deal!” Bea runs a tired hand over her face, clearly drained from the argument. 

Poppy huffs, standing a little straighter, anger written all over her face, “because it is! Excuse me if I don’t want my personal life advertised to the world.” 

“You do that everyday on your Picta. Just admit it, you don’t want people to know we’re dating, just like in college.” 

“God can you let that go? We were different people back in college, it’s not the same thing.” Poppy clenches her jaw, balling her fists up as she stares down Bea, not willing to back down. 

Bea holds eye contact for a few more moments before breaking it, training her eyes to the ground. “I don’t want to keep fighting,” she mumbles out before stalking towards the front door, opening it. 

“Where are you going?” Poppy asks, her voice quiet. 

Bea sighs, her body visibly deflating, “I just need some air.” She walks through the door, closing it behind her, not waiting to hear Poppy’s response. She walks through the streets of New York until she finds herself standing in front of Zoey’s apartment, and after some slight hesitation, she knocks. After a few seconds, the door opens and Zoey looks over at Bea, her brows creased in confusion. 

“Hey girl, is everything okay?” 

Bea blinks back a couple of tears, her voice breaking, “can I come in?” 

“Yes of course,” Zoey moves out of the way, allowing Bea to come in, and gestures towards the couch before sitting on it. “Jesus Bea you look like hell, what happened?” 

“Things with Poppy have been rough to say the least.” Zoey momentarily winces at the mention of Poppy but she quickly masks her loathing. 

“What happened?” 

“I wanted to post this cute picture of us on Picta but she started a fight saying she doesn’t want me to post it because she’s saying she’s not ready but we've been together for 5 months now.” Bea cradles her head in her arms, obviously tired. Zoey slides closer to her, rubbing comforting circles on her back. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Zoey speaks softly, her voice lulling Bea back into safety as she wraps her arms around her pulling her into a hug. “Look, I don’t want to say I told you so…” Bea groans, evoking a laugh from Zoey. “Come on, I told you this would happen, it’s just like college.” 

*Flashback* 

Bea knocks on Poppy’s bedroom door and a few seconds later the strawberry blonde opens it, a stunned look on her face. 

“Hughes? What are you doing here?” 

Bea walks into the room, her smile on her face, so broad as she turns to look at Poppy, “I was thinking-” 

“About?” 

“About us.” Poppy raises an eyebrow, the rest of her facial expression stoic. “Be my date to the end of year gala.” 

Poppy lets out a humourless laugh, “it’s official, you’ve gone crazy.” 

Bea moves forward taking Poppy’s hands in hers, “just hear me out.” Bea takes a deep breath, before her eyes meet Poppy’s, “we have this thing going on between us and it’s been amazing but to take the next step. I want Belvoire to know that I’m with the most beautiful girl.” 

Poppy slips her hands out of Bea’s hands, crossing them over her chest, “there’s no us.” 

Bea’s facial expression falters, the wide smile transforming into a disappointed frown, “I don’t understand.” 

Poppy feels a pang in her heart as she watches Bea’s face fall, but she finds a tiny strand of anger in her body and she holds onto it, attempting to make this encounter easier for her to bear. “There isn’t an us, what’s hard to understand Farmsville?” Poppy makes her voice as blunt and monotone as possible as she shoots daggers into Bea’s eyes. 

“What about the last year? What about everything we’ve gone through?” 

“Stop using words like us and we!” Poppy shouts, wildly throwing around her arms, “it was literally sex, it doesn’t mean anything.” 

Bea bites down on her bottom lip, “just sex huh? I don’t believe it. What about the nights you asked me to stay, or the nights we talked. You’re saying they meant nothing to you?” Poppy sees the sadness swimming in Bea’s eyes, forcing her to turn away from the girl, her eyes trained on the ground. 

“It didn’t mean anything to me,” Poppy mumbles out. 

“Bullshit! I don’t believe that Pops.” 

“Don’t call me that! We aren’t anything, Farmsville and I certainly don’t want to be your stupid date to the gala.” 

“I don’t believe you, look me in my eyes Poppy and tell me that it never meant anything and I swear-” Bea swallows heavily, tears brimming in her eyes, “I swear I’ll walk out right now and I won’t ever bother you again.” Bea steps in front of Poppy, her head levels with hers as Poppy meets her eyes. “So?” 

Poppy trembles slightly, as her fingers toys with the hem of her top, “it meant nothing to me.” 

Bea nods in understanding, acceptance written on her face “okay.” She sniffles, wiping away the tears from her eyes, “have a nice life Poppy.” Bea walks out of the room, not bothering to look back. 

*Present*

“That was different Zo.” 

“How so?” Zoey raises an eyebrow. 

“That was when we were all worried about rankings and sabotage and all those petty things.” 

“Are you sure she still doesn’t care about things?” Bea playfully nudges Zoey, laughing slightly.

“Yes I’m sure. It’s just I don’t get what the problem is this time. I mean college was a tough time for us both but now, I don’t get why she’s so hesitant.”

“Commitment issues?” 

Bea shakes her head, “she seems pretty committed to me, she just doesn’t like being open.” 

“Whatever it is I know you’ll guys will work it out, and if you don’t then at least you can move on.” Bea stares off into the distance, silent. “Bea, hey I was kidding.” 

Bea gives a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “yeah I know. Anyway enough about my problems, are you excited for your album coming out.” 

Zoey squeals, jumping up and down in her spot, “yes! Oh my god I can’t believe it’s out in a week. How’s the release party looking?” 

“I got us a great place at a club.” 

“VIP?”

“VIP treatment baby!” Bea cheers, pulling Zoey into a hug. 

…..

Slightly buzzed, the group make their way to the club, all in high spirits as they skip the line after showing their IDs and making their way to the VIP section. Bea sidles up to the bar, ordering shots for the entire team as they gather around the woman of the hour at the other side of the club. 

Once the tray of shots is delivered, Bea hands them out, before taking the last one, raising it in the air, “Let’s all raise our glasses for this incredible woman, who’s hours away from releasing her first ever album worldwide,” Bea gestures for everyone to lift their glasses, a wide smile on her face, “here’s to you Zoey Wade.” The group throws back the shot and begins cheering for Zoey. “Speech, speech, speech” Bea chants as the rest of the group follows suit, their attention focused on Zoey as they clap and cheer.

Zoey awkwardly smiles, clearly bashful. “I never really thought I would be able to make a name for myself outside of my mom and I’m just thankful and grateful for my amazing team who helped me get my feelings out and make incredible songs out of them.” The group laughs whole heartedly, and Zoey raises her drink in toast. “So this isn’t only a celebration for me, but a celebration for us all, so let’s party it up.” She throws back the shot, and everyone follows suit cheering as they do. 

“You didn’t have to do all of this Bea,” Zoey says sheepishly. 

“Ummmmm of course I did, my best friend is releasing an album! I know how hard you’ve worked on it Zo, if anyone deserves to celebrate it’s you.” Bea pulls Zoey in for a hug. 

“This club is great, how did you find it?” 

“Poppy owns it.” Zoey's face falls, “Hey, she offered to the party to be held here, a way to say sorry for everything at college.”

“So where is the queen b right now?” 

“Right here.” Poppy walks over to the girls, taking her place next to Bea. “I’m really happy for you Zoey, if anyone deserves this, it’s you.” 

“Thanks.” 

Bea looks between the girls, sensing the awkward tension between the girls augmenting. “Hey why don’t I get us some drinks?” 

“Sure.” Poppy gives a small smile as Bea walks over to the bar before awkwardly turning to face Zoey. The pulsating music from the club causes Zoey to lean closer to Poppy.

“Whatever you have going on with Bea, you better not break her heart.” 

“I won’t,” Poppy replies, “I care about her a lot.” 

“Sure you do, but we’re not at Belvoire anymore. No more games Poppy, I won’t let you hurt her again.” 

“Trust me when I say that’s the last thing I want.” 

Before Zoey can reply, Bea saunters back holding out shot glasses for Zoey and Poppy to take. The women throw back the shot before Bea turns to Poppy whispering in her ear, “dance with me?” 

Poppy looks at Zoey in the corner of her eye before replying, “sure.” Bea leads her into the middle of the crowded dance floor, pulling the strawberry blonde close to her body, wrapping her arms around her waist while Poppy’s hang around her neck. 

Bea lets out a small laugh, “what’s so funny?” Poppy inquires, raising a brow. 

“Nothing, just looking at how far we’ve come. You remember the first time we were in this club together?” 

Poppy hums in content, “I recruited you to help me take down Chloe.” 

Bea leans down to whisper in Poppy’s ear, “and then you dragged me onto the dance floor. Practically couldn’t keep your hands off me.” 

“If I’m remembering correctly, you slept with me so you could backstab me.” 

Bea’s grip on Poppy tightens, “mmh, I did want to get revenge yes, but I’m pretty sure you were the one who suggested sex in the first place.” 

Poppy laughs, “you might be remembering that wrong.” 

“Pretty sure I’m not,” Bea leans in to give Poppy a sweet kiss, until Poppy abruptly pulls away, pressing her lips together in a thin line. 

“Bea we’re in public.” 

“So? We don’t know anyone here.” 

“I invited Veronica and Chloe to be here tonight, they could be anywhere.” Poppy pulls herself away from Bea, “I’m going to get a drink, do you want one?” 

“Nah I’m good you go ahead without me.” Poppy heads over to the bar as Bea makes her way back to the VIP section, seeing a small group forming. “Hey what’s going on here?” 

“Bea!” Veronica aims her phone at Bea, a wide smile on her face. 

“Hey V,” Bea gives the ombre-haired girl a one armed hug, “how’s everything been?” 

Veronica turns off her phone, a tired look on her face, “Good, tired but life has been good.” 

“How’s life been for you Farmsville?” 

“It’s been great, I’m still waiting on you to do your review on my new restaurant.” 

“Ah so the truth comes out, you only wanted me in New York for clout.” 

“Hey Poppy invited you here to celebrate Zoey, and get some clout of her own for her club.” 

“Hey Farmsville!” Chloe stumbles towards the girls, pulling Veronica and Bea into a strong hug slightly spilling her drink on Bea as she does. 

“Chloe! You seem drunk,” Bea swipes at her shoulder, cleaning off the liquor. 

“Yeah these drinks are awesome,” Chloe hangs her tongue open, fumbling with the straw until it’s in her mouth. “Hey where’s new money? I think she has been avoiding me since I sent her over my newest clothing line.” 

“Hey Chloe? Did you ever think to become a dance choreographer? I mean you practically lead the Zeta girls back in college, why not do it now.” 

Chloe stares at Bea, deep in thought, “maybe you’re not full of bad ideas.” 

Chloe saunters off deep in thought as Zoey lumbers into the group, carefully looking around, “is she gone?” 

Veronica snorts, “yeah yeah, she’s gone now. Hey there’s Poppy.” Veronica waves her over and Poppy walks over to the group, her eyes conspicuously trying to not look at Bea. 

“Hey V, remember to get good shots of the dance floor and on the bar.” 

Veronica rolls her eyes, “yeah, yeah,” her eyes dart between Poppy and Bea, watching as the two girls try not to look at each other. She then looks over Zoey, silently gesturing between the girls. Zoey gives a subtle nod, and Veronica grins. “I need a drink, Poppy join me?” 

“Sure.” 

The girls move towards the bar where Veronica turns towards the strawberry blonde, a sly smirk on her face, “So. You seeing anyone?” 

Poppy huffs, “here and there. I like to keep my options open.” 

“So the fact that Bea is staring right at us, has nothing to do with anything?” 

Poppy freezes as Veronica grins at her, “I don't know what you’re talking about.” 

“Come on don’t lie to me. I know you guys were screwing each other during senior year.” 

“What? No we weren’t.” 

“Let's cut all of the false bullshit, come on, what’s going on with you guys?” 

Poppy sighs defeatedly, “Fine, we’ve been seeing each other for the last couple of months but it’s like I’m destined to screw up my own life.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Bea is amazing, I just sometimes don’t think I deserve her.” 

“Nah, nah, nah, none of that depressing crap P. You deserve to find someone who makes you happy and I’ve been here what five minutes? I can practically sense the love already, go and talk to her and fix whatever you messed up.” 

“How do you know I’m the one who messed it up?” 

“Because if it was Bea she would’ve fixed it already, now go.” 

Veronica shoos Poppy away as the strawberry blonde sidles up to Bea, whispering in her ear, “come somewhere quiet with me?” Bea nods as she follows Poppy to the back office, muffling the sounds of the music. 

“So what’s up?” Bea crosses her arms together, looking expectedly at Poppy.

“I don’t like this rift between us, and I know it’s my fault I just-” she sighs heavily, hanging her head in defeat, “i haven’t ever properly done the whole relationship thing and I don’t want to mess it up but it seems like that’s all I’m doing.” 

Bea uncrosses her arms, reaching out to place her hand against Poppy’s cheek, “you’re not messing up anything. We just need better communication.” 

“Bea, I know in the past I treated you like crap and I don’t even know why you want to be with me.” Bea opens her mouth to retort but Poppy shushes her, “let me finish. I don’t know why you still want to be with me but I’m so grateful that you do. I have something to admit to you.” 

“What is it?” 

“When I went to your restaurant, it wasn’t a coincidence.” Poppy takes a slow steadying breath, before her eyes meet Bea’s, “Veronica dropped that you asked her to give your restaurant a review so I subtly told Darren’s best friend about it so he could recommend it to Darren and I could come and see you.” Bea looks at Poppy in surprise, her mouth hanging slightly open. “I tried acting all cold and distant but in reality I was happy to see you and when you kissed me I was surprised. I didn’t expect you to still have feelings for me, so I got my father to hire your company last minute for the dinner.” 

Bea lets out a small huff, “once a schemer huh?” 

Poppy nervously chews on her lips, worry etched on her face, “the reason why I’ve been acting so weird is because I love you Bea Hughes, I always have. And for the first time, I’m not scared of admitting that I-” Bea silences Poppy with a deep kiss, tangling their tongues together as Bea’s hand snakes around Poppy’s throat, squeezing slightly as she kisses her harder. 

“I love you too.” Bea continues kissing Poppy, with great intensity but Poppy pulls away resting her forehead against Bea’s. 

“Do you have your phone?” 

“Uhh yeah.” 

Bea takes her phone out of her purse and Poppy takes it out of her hand, swiping to the camera, “smile,” Poppy presses her lips against Bea’s cheek, taking a series of photos before swiping through them looking for the best one. “This one.” 

“What do you want me to do with it?” Bea replies, confused. 

“Post it on picta, duh. I want the world to know I’m dating the most incredible girl.” Bea feels a warmth in her chest as she uploads the photo before taking Poppy’s hand re-entering the club. 

“I saw the picta post, I guess congrats are in order.” Veronica smiles at the girls while Poppy looks around and locks eyes with Zoey who gives her a small nod, content. Poppy pulls Bea in for a kiss, a smile on her lips. 

“I love you Bea Hughes.” 

“And I love you Poppy Min Sinclair.” 

Chloe stalks up to the group, waving her phone in her hand, “you’re dating Bea? Seriously?” 

Poppy looks up at Bea, warmth in her eyes, “Yep I sure am.”

#playchoices #queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #last part #hope yall enjoy

[egelantier]

disco elysium

i fall into a proper gaming binge every half a year or so, and then forget that computers games exist altogether. my last bout of addiction was hades, a gorgeous roguelite about trying to get out of the underworld and dealing with family, bigger on the inside than it seemed outside. now i've spent a week headfirst into the beautiful madness of disco elysium, and i'm nowhere close to done. middle of the second playthrough, at least a couple more ahead, maybe three, maybe five - this kind of not closer to be done. finally, almost a decade later, there's a spiritual successor to planescape: torment, perfect, unique and compelling like nothing else. i'm head over heels in love.

(and a note: it's very much a game that can and should be played by non-gamers. it's a true click-and-pointer; the entirety of its action happens through dialogue. give it a try.)

in disco elysium, your character wakes up in an absolutely trashed hotel room, coming off a bender of epic proportions, fucked up beyond recognition, and fully amnesiac. it turns out you're visiting a (very much not) sunny town of revachol, a slowly decaying remnant of revolution and consequent war, and, well. you're a cop, and you're here to investigate a murder. namely, a murder of somebody whose dead body is still hanged in the backyard…

this is a horrendous mess, and you are a horrendous mess - bloated, amnesiac, confused, weird, pathetic, with a host of warring impulses and demands fighting for space in your head - but thankfully there's a pillar of stability and light in your dark world, waiting just downstairs: lieutenant kim katsuragi, your assigned partner from another station, a man with godlike sense of dignity and practically endless amount of quiet patience for your bullshit. together with him, you can investigate a crime, try to stop a small civil war, solve a couple of questions of the universe, and maybe, if you play your cards just once, dance a truly epic dance together in a shot-up church. there are also cryptids, karaoke, board games, collecting bottles for money, a mystery of a crashed police car, discovering your own feelings about the homo-sexual underground, and many, many other things.

(the gameplay: you have four sets of stats (intellect, sensitivity, physicality, interacting with objects) and, depending on how you distribute them, you play a wildly different character every time. there's no way to fail: your detective can be dumb as a bag of rocks but able to get by on intuition and muscle memory, or smart and horrible with people, or empathetic and weak, or - the combinations are endless. the game is conducted via a combination of red stat checks that you can do only once, and white checks that you can try, fail, up your stats and retry again. aside from a handful of cases, a lot of time it's easier - and funnier - to accept failures rather than try for a perfect go every time. you are a hot mess, after all. there are ten game days, a variety of sidequests and tasks, and almost endless variability in how you approach them. everything is connected, except for that one door.)

(there's also a political system, where you eventually pick up your political affiliation: a communist, a libertarian, a fascist, and a wishy-washy uncommitted liberal. the game has a lot of things to tell you about all your choices, most of them funny, some of them horrendous. there's no innocence here, and no way to weasel out of the consequences of your worldview; and you could also see that it was done by eastern europe people.)

and the thing is. the thing is, it's very much the kind of a game where you perform a field autopsy on a three days old corpse while a couple of preteen kids are watching avidly and offering their color commentary, and at some point you have to rummage in the corpse's mouth and feel its brain stem. a lot of very, very bad things happen or happened - to you, to the people around you, to the town around you, to the world around you. where in fallout you rolled into town with your stats jacked high and your blaster in hand, and solved ancient disputes and established peace, here the weight of the history is very, very heavy, and you're very, very small. you can't solve the decades of violence and war and trauma and colonization and poverty with the power of your save-scumming and pithy one liners, alas; but you can solve a murder. you can help a sweet and worried old woman. you can put your cheek to a kid's fuzzy plush toy, when offered. you can tell a person, gently, that their loved one is dead, and lie about how drunk they were when they did that. you can replace a taxidermied bird you broke. you can sit on the swing with your partner, waiting for the low tide, and whistle together - two birds on the wire…

it's the gentlest, kindest, sweetest, most hopeful game i've seen in the last decade. it's a goddamn manifesto to human spirit, and to how only - well, love - holds the world, always falling apart, together. a huge part of it is your relationship with kim, because believe me, whoever you are, most of your playthrough would be dedicated to chasing kim's approval and to winning his trust. but it also sneaks into all the cases, all the dialogues, all the little throwaway details. everybody is human; everybody is awful; everybody is holy, even you. oh, even you.

(there are storylines you can or can not discover. about why harry is such a mess - and it's awful and i loved how it was done, with empathy and grace and no judgement; about the state of the world, a bit of eldritch horror so throwaway and beautiful i would read entire volumes just about that; about the city of locusts; about a small girls' memory of playing in the reeds; about the scar of the revolution. suliram, ram, ram…)

(it's also brilliantly, awfully, absurdly, hysterically funny. Art Cop run alone makes me just about die. every failure is funnier than the other. you can be as weird as you want to - in fact, the game encourages you to be as weird as you want to be - and the world around will react accordingly, outperforming you in sheer absurdity. there's a war-and-peace sized amount of dialogue and description in the game, and it's written by some damn genius of pratchettian caliber.)

and, and and. honestly, the best way to get sucked into this game is not reviews, it's random quotes and screenshots, out -of-context spoilers - it's more or less impossible to resist. but please, oh please, give it a try.

>Someone's been walking around in your dreams lately, looking for something. Tidying up, rearranging. Storing away all the unrealized dreams, putting old pains in boxes. The worst nightmares have settled down for a while. A spot of light on the bedroom door after the dark. The fluttering of eyelids in the spring sun. A thought that arises, only to disappear again. And yet there's a pattern emerging…

>What if you didn’t lose your memory? What if something in Martinaise came and stored it all away. For you to slowly open one box at a time. So you can choose which parts to keep. Keep almost none of it. Only the flowers on the windowsill. Only the distant sound of a radio. Lose all the actors, the dark shadows, leave only the still lifes, the blissful distant wash of waves. If everybody knew -- you never did. She’ll be coming soon. That is all.

#disco elysium #recs

[machi-kun]

For the writing prompts, 48 ‘meeting again at the high school reunion’ :D

👀👀👀👀👀

****

“That’s Steve Rogers.” Tony gasps. “It can’t be. It - That’s Steve Rogers. Oh, my God!”

“Oh, my God.” Pepper says, long-suffering.

“Did you know about this?!”

“Yes, Tony, I keep tabs on every single one of our former classmates - of course not, why would I know this?”

“He’s tall!” Tony exclaims, maybe a little too hysterically, because a few heads turn in his direction, shooting him confused and worried looks. “He used to be shorter than me! And he was skinny, he had asthma, he - what happened to him?!”

Because something must have happened! Something, because people don’t just grow like that out of nowhere! Not that it hasn’t been years, because it has, but Tony thinks has the right to be shocked; He is not one for wet sciences and genetics, but he can’t imagine how much can he assign Steve Roger’s utter and complete transformation to “grow spurt” and not straight up “scientific experiment gone incredibly out of hand”, because that shouldn’t be possible. 

Steve used to go up to Tony’s shoulder - look at him now! What the hell.

“Can you calm down for a second, it’s not a big deal.” Rhodey says unimpressed.

“How can it be not a big deal-”

“It really isn’t.” Rhodey insists, sounding maddeningly bored. “People get grow spurts all the time, just because you didn’t doesn’t mean other people can’t either.”

Tony sputters, wildly offended. 

“And it’s not like he’s all that different. You can still definitely tell it’s him.” Rhodey muses, taking one long, considering glance at tall, built like a goddamned tank Steve Rogers, and he dares to snort a laugh at the sight of Tony’s utter bafflement. “And don’t act like you didn’t have the most ridiculous crush on him when he was small, because you did, and everyone knew. This is nothing new for you.”

“Not everyone.” Tony rebuffs, which is stupid, because what he meant to say is that he didn’t, he didn’t have a crush on tiny Steve Rogers, except maybe he kinda did, okay, and who is Rhodey to make fun of him for it, when he had a crush on Wilson for an entire year?

“Wow.” Pepper says, blinking slowly, halfway through a laugh. “That was very convincing, I am very impressed.”

“Actually - you know what, I will not stand here and have all these lies about me - I am leaving you both here.”

“Go talk to Steve, then.” Rhodey dares.

“Fine!” Tony says, huffing. “I will!”

He takes two steps forward - and stops.

“I-”

“Tony.” Pepper threatens before he can even turn. “Go.”

Alright. He can do this.

It’s just Steve Rogers. No big deal.

Christ, it’s Steve Rogers.

It should not be a big deal, but it kind of is. It is for Tony, at least. Okay, maybe Rhodey is right and Tony did have a bit of a crush on Steve back then, but - how could he not? Okay? Tony’s pretty sure half the class had been kinda in love with the guy, even if Steve used to be, and Tony’s quoting here, “like that” and “no one wanted to go out with him”. Which was, for starters, not true, because Tony would have definitely gone out with Steve if Steve had asked, and two - Tony knows for a fact that Steve and Sharon dated for a couple of months just after their graduation and Steve had definitely still been tiny when that happened, because they still talked back then.

Tony missed him, when he moved to the West Coast. He didn’t want to stop talking to Steve, it just happened. Steve had always been amazing. And gorgeous. And Tony liked him, a lot. Of course he missed him.

Tony just... He never told him that, because how could he? How could he tell Steve that and not completely give himself away, with that ridiculous crush of his? 

But he’s an adult now. He can handle Steve Rogers, as pretty and incredible and freakishly built he might be. He’s fine. He’s got this.

“Steve Rogers!” Tony bellows, with practiced ease and smugness, gesturing to Steve with unabashed appreciation. “Look at our leader, ladies and gentlemen!”

Steve turns to face Tony and - oh. 

Oh, Tony doesn’t have this. At all. Nope. 

“Tony.” Steve says, and his voice is deeper now, Tony feels like he’s going to combust. “God, it’s so good to see you!”

Tony has to look up to face him now - his absurdly blue eyes, his cheekbones, his lips - oh, Christ, Tony might still be a little bit in love with Steve Rogers.

“Great to see you too.” Tony pats him on the shoulder - all muscle, just like the rest of him now - and pretends he’s not shaking. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” Steve smiles, and steps back so he can make room for Tony to step forward, and only then Tony realizes that the other people present, meaning the people he just rudely and loudly interrupted in favor of his flawless act of totally not being affected by the sight of Steve, are Wilson and Sharon. 

“Tony, hey.” Sharon greets him kindly, and Wilson surprisingly also cracks a smile and raises his drink in a welcoming gesture.

“The whole class rep team together!” Tony exclaims, a little delighted, a little fucking terrified. “Where is our resident troublemaker, then?”

“Standing right next to you?” Sharon laughs, and pays Steve no mind when he shoots her a very unimpressed glare. “C’mon, Steve, we all know between you and Barnes, you are definitely worse.”

“Yeah. And hey, you know just because we ain’t kids anymore doesn’t mean Barnes can’t kick your ass, right, Stark? In fact, he might kick your ass harder, so you watch out for that.” Wilson jokes, his expression full of amusement.

“Barnes loves me too much.” Tony says, and Wilson full-on snorts, the sound echoing in his cup as he takes a sip. “What? He does. We all know that his problem with me was because he secretly loved me and totally not because I broke his arm on PE once.”

“Was it now?” Steve teases, and Tony has to lock all his muscles like they’re made of stone to prevent himself from shivering. 

“Sure it was. You should know, Rogers.”

“Yeah.” Wilson laughs, half-hiding his shit-eating grin on his cup. “You should know.”

“You shut up.” Steve says, and when Wilson and Sharon laugh, his ears go adorably pink. “Why don’t you go talk to Rhodes?”

“Oh, yes, please do.” Tony exclaims, jittery with joy at the idea of making Rhodey’s life just a little bit harder. If he can poke fun at Tony, Tony is definitely allowed to poke back. “He’s gonna love seeing you, Wilson. Tell him I sent you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you just tryin’ to get Steve alone, you ain’t subtle.” Wilson jabs, but before Tony can even process the words fully, let alone react to them, Wilson claps a hand on his back and steps out, supposedly, to find Rhodey. “Good seeing you, man.”

And he just leaves. Worse, Sharon leaves too, with a nod and an all-too-knowing look in her eyes, and then, Tony is suddenly left alone with Steve goddamn Rogers, who Tony may or may not still have a ridiculous crush on!

“So.” Tony exhales, harshly. “No Barnes?”

Steve looks at him like he’s amused, smirking at a private joke. “Jerk’s late. I set him an alarm and everything, but you know how he is.”

“I do? I guess I have vague memories of our glorious highschool days but clearly, I missed something.” Tony jokes, trying to be suave, but Steve is smiling like the way he used to smile when Tony fumbled with his words, when Steve made him flustered; and it’s making him flustered all over again like Tony is still fifteen and very very charmed by the tiny class president. “Because I don’t remember you being...”

“This size?” Steve gestures to himself, and Tony is a weak man, because he can’t refuse the excuse to look.

“Guess you could say that.” Tony teases. “I didn’t know art school could do that to you. I would almost guess you joined the army.”

“You knew I went to art school?” Steve asks, delighted, and - shit. 

“You always talked about it, when we were younger. And I knew you could do it.” And because Tony’s mouth doesn’t know how to stay shut, he accidentally says, “And I’ve seen a show you did once. A gallery, I mean, an exhibition. The one in Boston?”

“The one for my family.” Steve clarifies, eyes going all gentle and fond. 

“Yeah, that one.” Tony clears his throat. “Sarah must have been really proud. How is she, by the way?”

“The same as always. Nothing can stop her from kicking my ass when I need it.” Steve admits, a little embarrassed, and Tony can’t help but give a hearty laugh because yeah, that’s the Sarah Rogers he remembers, and suddenly, he’s overcome with nostalgia for the afternoons he spent at the Rogers’ place, feeling far more comfortable than anywhere else in the world. 

“God, I miss Sarah.” Tony confesses.

Steve pauses, and he looks at Tony with such an intense gaze Tony can’t look away. “And she misses you. We still talk about you sometimes.”

Tony blinks. “You do?”

“Tony.” Steve tilts his head, playfully, like he can’t believe Tony’s surprise. “Ma practically adopted you the moment you stepped a foot inside her house. If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have trapped you there and never let you leave.”

“Well, for Sarah Rogers, I wouldn’t have minded that.” 

“Neither would I.” Steve says, to Tony’s complete shock, and his face blooms ina flush of heat, mortifyingly. “But I had enough problems on my plate without Jarvis breathing down my neck.”

“Jarvis loves you, he always did.” Tony complains, childishly, in reflex. “I was the one always getting a speech when it was you who was always getting into fights and getting us both bruised!”

“You didn’t have to fight with me.”

“I definitely did.”

“You should come over, sometime.” Steve offers, suddenly, talking fast, as if he’s trying to get the words out all at once. “See Ma again. She would love that.”

“I-” Tony chokes. “Are you sure?”

“Tony. I really missed you. We both did.” Steve gulps down hard, his jaw working almost hypnotically. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep in touch.”

Tony shakes his head frantically. “That wasn’t your fault. If anything, it was mine. It just - a lot of things happened, and-”

“We both had a rough time.” Steve interrupts, gently, and Tony gives him a silent nod. “I know it. But I think we both could use a win now, couldn’t we?”

Tony pauses. “Is taking me home to meet your mom a win, Rogers?”, he says, feeling daring.

“Definitely.” Steve says, coy, and slowly, he looks Tony up and down, all of him, as if he’s drinking in the sight, and that look, in Steve’s blue, sharp eyes, make Tony tremble where he stands. “And this time, I might not let you leave either.”

What happened to Steve Rogers! Tony wants to scream, mind going a hundred miles an hour, hysterical. I don’t know how to handle this!

“We can do that.” he says instead, nonsensical, short on breath.

“Alright.” Steve says, satisfied. “Give me your number.”

“What?” 

“Your number.” He smiles. “I’m not giving you the chance to second guess this, Tony. I know you. I’m calling you, and we’ll go out sometime. Does that sound ok?”

“Sounds awesome.” Tony admits, just a little winded. “I’d love that.”

“Good.” Steve puffs his chest out, just a little, like he’s proud of himself, and when Tony finally gets out a business card from his wallet and awkwardly writes his personal number on the back, it takes all his strength not to react to the brush of Steve’s cold fingers against his when he grabs the paper.

Steve stares at the number like Tony has just given him the greatest of gifts. 

And when he looks up at Tony and the sentiment in his eyes does not fade, Tony can’t do anything but exhale slowly, deeply, a ridiculously infatuated sigh.

“It’s great seeing you, Steve.” He says.

“You too.” Steve echoes, just as fond. “Can I call you tonight?”

Fuck.

“Yes.”

“Then I will.” He smiles.

Crap.

Tony definitely still is a little bit in love with Steve Rogers.

#stevetony #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #superhusbands #ask #anon #machi writes #Anonymous #its time for another round of machi sneaks in their other ships into the stevetony fic #this time is samrhodey and staron

[the-coda-project]

The Coda Project | 1.02 - Inherit the Flames

After reuniting Tommy Collins with his family, Dean and Sam stop for the night in a town called Rifle.

They’re about two hours out of Blackwater Ridge, at a dumpy motel on the edge of a town called Rifle, and Dean’s been staring at the tree-print wallpaper for so long that he’s started detecting patterns in the branches.

A cheap plug-in air freshener in the bathroom has the whole place reeking of artificial pine. Between that and the walls, Dean’s starting to feel as though the wilderness they just barely managed to escape from has followed them here. Hell, maybe they didn’t escape. Maybe he’s still strung up in the mine; maybe the wendigo is still tossing him around like a ragdoll, scrambling his brains just enough that he’s dreaming of a motel that doesn’t exist.

Outside, an eighteen-wheeler passes on the I-70, close enough to make the windows rattle. Dean shifts in his bed as if a different position is going to be enough to distract him from how badly his ribs ache. His scratched-up neck feels raw as road rash.

No matter how hard he tries, sleep still feels so far out of the realm of possibility that he starts wondering how long he should lie here before he can cut his losses and call it.

But then Sam pipes up—“Hey, can I ask you something?”—from across the room, not bothering to check first if Dean’s awake, and immediately he wants to just keep feigning sleep until morning. He might have sought out his brother’s company only a couple of weeks ago, but right now, with the memory of Sam’s dismissive attitude toward helping the Collins family fresh in his mind, he doesn’t feel much like talking to him.

“Dean.”

He presses his eyes shut, ignoring the part of himself that’s berating him for being childish. Whether he can get to sleep or not, he’s too goddamn exhausted to talk about anything that isn’t life or death.

If he thought there was even a chance that his brother was angling to talk about Jessica, he’d be sitting up and listening in a heartbeat. But his tone is inquisitive, not hesitant, and Sam’s been so closed-lipped about his grief that Dean only knows how much her death is affecting him because of how loud and frequent his nightmares have been.

“Dean,” Sam says again, slightly louder. “I know you’re awake.”

With a huff, Dean tilts his head to squint at him across the gap between their lumpy mattresses. He grimaces as the motion pulls at the claw marks on his neck. He’ll be lucky if they don’t scar, but maybe it’d be better if they do. Maybe it’d help if he could see something visibly fucked up when he looks in the mirror. Maybe that would make it easier to explain away the revulsion he feels when he meets his own eyes.

“Dude, can it wait until after I get a solid four hours?”

Bullheaded as ever, Sam ignores the question, sitting up and tucking his shaggy hair back behind his ears. He looks twelve years old. Dean figures he always will, in some ways.

“Did something happen with Dad? Before he took off, I mean.”

“Like what?”

He’s not sure why he bothers asking Sam to clarify.

Maybe it’s just to buy himself some time; to give himself a second to come up with some version of the truth that doesn’t amount to Dad’s an overbearing, pigheaded prick, just like you’ve always said, and if I didn’t think he was in trouble right now I’d be glad to be rid of him for at least another month.

Even thinking it makes him guilty. Like he’s a bad son for being so angry with the guy. But he’s gotta believe that his actions are the important part here; proof that no matter how much he hates his dad sometimes, he still loves him enough to want to keep this family as connected as he can.

Still, a part of him is wondering if it’s really worth it anymore to keep up the act. If his clinging to John and clinging to Sam is just making things worse for all of them. Making John think he’ll put up with whatever he throws at him. Making Sam think he doesn’t care enough to take his side against John when he’s being unreasonable.

A part of him wonders—but it’s not a big enough part to win. The thought that something might have happened to him keeps him from letting the bile spill.

Because if they can’t find him—or worse, if they do find him but they’re too late—Dean doesn’t want Sam to have more reasons to be angry with a dead man than he’s already got.

It’s not as though Dean’s not used to keeping this shit locked down, anyway. There’ve been other disagreements, other fights, other circumstances over the years that he knows weren’t even close to being fair on him, but that’s just his life. It sucks, but it’s how it’s always been. No use complaining about it if it’s never gonna change, and after living this way for twenty-two of his twenty-six years, he sees no reason to consider change a possibility.

In the grand scheme of things, this particular incident doesn’t even make the top five list of awful things John’s put him through. The honors there go to that time with the shtriga, abandoning him at Sonny’s and then uprooting him as soon as he let himself get comfortable, the hunt he sent him on as a seventeenth birthday “present”, the night he told Sam not to bother coming back if he left for school, and the simple act of raising his kids into this shit in the first place.

This one might make it into the top ten, though. He hasn’t decided yet.

“Well,” Sam says, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You said you hadn’t heard from him in… what, three weeks before you got that message? Seems weird that it was so long, is all. You were on a hunt, he was on a hunt… it’s just weird that you weren’t checking in more often.”

Dean rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. There’s a water stain on the popcorn tile overhead that almost looks like a cactus if he looks at it the right way.

Christ, he could use some tequila right now. Maybe he can find them a case further south while they wait for some sign of John to turn up. Someplace warmer than the mountains in Colorado. Someplace where he can roll into town, waste a ghost, and then knock back a few drinks on a motel patio without having to talk to anyone at all.

“I mean, you usually check in more than that, right?” Sam goes on, and Dean sighs. He lifts one hand to rub at his brow.

“Yeah, usually.”

“So… what happened?”

“Nothing you gotta worry about,” he says, and immediately knows it was a mistake. Sam zeroes in on what Dean didn’t say just as intently as anyone else would focus on what he did.

Maybe he should go to law school after all—he’s already got the artful-conversational-trap shit down.

“You had a fight.”

“Sam—”

“No, c’mon Dean. You asked me to help you find him. If you had a fight before he left, that seems like it might be relevant.”

“It’s not.”

“So why won’t you just tell me?”

“It was nothing,” he insists. “Dad isn’t exactly Mr Congeniality, Sam. We fight all the time.”

“No, me and Dad fight all the time. The two of you are usually on the same page.”

Dean suppresses a snort and rolls onto his side, his back to Sam now as he looks at the narrow strip of moonlight edging past the thin motel curtains.

“You know I’ll just ask Dad when we find him if you don’t—“

“Jesus, Sam. It was nothing. Just a stupid disagreement about the hunt we were on. You know how he can get.”

“What was the hunt?”

“A witch in Louisiana. We had different ideas about what was going on, but it’s done, the witch is dead, and it doesn’t matter anymore. Okay?”

“That’s all?”

It’s not all.

Thanks to a botched salt-and-burn in Kentucky the previous month, things had already been tense well before they checked into a motel in Souffran, Louisiana. It only got worse when they ran into a woman Dean knew on their second day in town.

She’d been a civilian, last he’d seen her. Said she was a hunter now.

John had been ready to leave as soon as he found out she was already looking into it, but Dean wasn’t so eager.

It wasn’t that he thought Marisa was helpless—far from it, in fact. She’d been teaching capoeira when Dean met her in Texas a few months back. Had the thing terrorizing her students been corporeal, he has no doubt that she never would have needed any help in kicking its ass. But she was inexperienced as a hunter. Green as they come.

Dean didn’t love the idea of her taking on whatever was killing kids in Souffran alone.

When he told John as much, his dad just gave him a sly look, as if he thought the only reason Dean cared was because he was looking to get into Marisa’s pants. Dean wasn’t, for the record. As he saw it, it was his fault that she’d decided to try hunting on for size in the first place. He figured he owed it to her to back her up while she was still so new.

At first, all they’d had to go on was two kids who’d gone missing and turned up dead a week later without any visible injuries beyond a circular burn in the center of their chests; a girl named Lucy Parker who’d disappeared without a trace from her grandmother’s backyard yesterday but was yet to be found; and half a dozen wildly inconsistent reports of strange lights being seen in the swamp running along the north edge of town.

John had been convinced that they were dealing with a fi follet—a kind of malevolent will-‘o-the-wisp known to enact vengeance and drain the blood of children. When Dean disagreed with him, explaining to Marisa that the whole thing felt witchy to him, and pointing out that neither of the kids who’d died had shown any signs of blood loss, John got pigheaded and petty.

He called Dean arrogant. Accused him of acting like John was an idiot ever since they left Kentucky. Spat, “You spend one day showing a civvie the ropes and now you’re an expert, huh? Well go ahead, kid. Handle it on your own.”

And then he bailed.

Left Dean and Marisa to track down a missing eight year old on their own, and made Dean feel about three inches tall when he did it.

It took them almost a full two days to track the thing responsible. A witch, like Dean had thought, who’d been draining the kids of their life force in a desperate, last-ditch effort to stave off some sickness that was eating away at him. But the spell he’d been using was unstable and ineffective, and he’d been haggard and jittery when they found him in a rusty little shack out in the middle of nowhere.

Lucy Parker was right there with him in the room, suspended in mid-air by some unknown force as pale, flickering light leached from the center of her chest and down into a copper bowl on the floor beneath her. Her eyes were wide and rolled back to the whites. Her mouth was open as if she were screaming.

Marisa shot the witch point blank, right between the eyes, and Dean had darted forward to catch Lucy before she could hit the ground. He’d spent the entire time terrified that they were going to get to her too late; that she’d turn up dead before they could figure out where she’d been taken or how to deal with the thing that had taken her.

When she landed in his arms, he’d almost been sick when he felt how cold she was. How limp.

But after a second, she gasped, and coughed, and then she was clinging to him. Shaking.

He couldn’t put her down. She wouldn’t let Marisa take her.

He’d been forced leave the shack while Marisa dealt with the witch’s body and destroyed all the evidence before some local could stumble upon it, and when she’d emerged gray-faced and bloody half an hour later, with the crackle of fire just audible over the steady croak of frogs in the nearby water, he’d known that Marisa wasn’t going on any more hunts.

Lucy still refused to let go of him once they got back to the car, so he’d let Marisa drive them back to town, sitting in the back seat with the kid clinging to his side and sobbing snot into his jacket. He hadn’t even minded. If he didn’t think it would scare her more, he might have let himself cry out of sheer relief at finding her.

Late that night--once Lucy was back with her grandmother, and Marisa was on her way back to San Antonio, and Souffran was far enough in the rearview that it was safe to stop for the night--Dean had called John. He didn’t pick up.

Just sent Dean’s call straight to voicemail, then texted him coordinates for a poltergeist case near Mobile, Alabama an hour later. A few days after that, more coordinates directed him to the voodoo hunt in New Orleans.

So yeah, a witch in Louisiana is not all. Not by a long shot. He doesn’t tell Sam that, though. What would be the point?

“Yeah, that’s all,” he lies, still staring at the gap in the curtains. Another truck rumbles past, air brakes hissing as it slows to take the town exit. It’s so loud that he’s not sure that he’d manage to sleep here even if he wasn’t a headcase. “C’mon, I gotta crash, man.”

For a minute, it seems like Sam’s gonna keep at it. Like he’ll needle at Dean until he spills everything out onto the pilled carpet between them. How scared he is. How angry. How resentful. All the ugliest feelings that seem to be pressing up his throat and onto the back of his tongue like bile.

But he doesn’t. Just sighs, sounding as tired as Dean feels, and says, “Yeah, okay. Night, Dean.”

Dean grunts in reply, and Sam starts snoring after a half hour. Another half hour after that, his nightmares begin. Low, helpless murmurs of Jessica’s name and high-pitched whines of terror that stick in Dean’s chest like buckshot.

With dry eyes and an ever-present lump in his throat, Dean pushes out of bed and heads for the bathroom, taking the laptop as he goes.

If he’s lucky, he’ll find them a hunt before Sam wakes up. He can get them back on the road as soon as the sun rises. Keep them focused on something that isn’t the complete lack of leads on John.

If he’s not, maybe staying up will wear him out enough to sleep tomorrow. He’ll take what he can get.

read again on ao3 | subscribe to series | about the series

#Supernatural Fic #cass writes fic #imogenbynight #the coda project #S01E02 #Wendigo #Episode Coda #2.5k words #gen #rated pg

[m-y-fandoms]

Mondo Oowada x an effeminate male S/O

Request: Oml heyyy may I request a Mondo x male! S/O (imagine or headcanons i don't really know the difference dkfjlds) where the s/o is very feminine and tries to get Mondo to do feminine things? Painting nails, etc.

Of course! This was gonna be a head canon post but I just kept writing so I turned it into an imagine. The bullet points were getting too long LMAO, but it does include some personal headcanons throughout. And thank you for giving me my first ever request! Means the world to me! - Mod Kokichi

Imagine below the keep reading cut! SFW and no spoilers included~

     Your first day at Hope’s Peak Academy as the Ultimate Tailor, you got teased a bit. It was inevitable. You were the new transfer student, fresh meat to pick on, and you were a dude in a skirt, a doubly enticing threat to bullies. Immature high-schoolers were always going to whisper and glare at the ones willing to step outside the norm.

     On one of your first days there, during a particularly ruthless bullying session, the school’s hall monitor and student council president, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, stepped in after noticing the noise, breaking up the situation by standing between you and your oppressors.

     “Bullying is not supported in this progressive and nurturing school environment!” Taka’s loud and volatile personality always made quick work of the school’s trouble-makers. He spun quickly around to you, inviting you to spend lunch at his table for your trouble.

     You hesitantly agreed, but were glad you did in the end. That day, you met Taka’s best friend, Mondo Owada, a toothpick between his teeth and his feet kicked up onto the lunch table as he fixed his perfectly styled hair.

     You immediately found him extremely attractive: the sharp jaw, the bit of chest hanging out the top of his tank top. Quickly, you fell into their little friend group full of excitable and extroverted men. There were random stragglers to your lunch table on certain days, with Akane and Shuichi tagging along occasionally, but the main staples that ate with you every single day were Fuyuhiko, Mondo, Taka, Kaito, and Nekomaru, subconsciously scaring away anyone who wanted to start shit.

     You weren’t nearly as close to the rest of them as you were with Mondo, however. You often found yourself leaning against his chair, sharing your packed lunch with him, entranced when he laughed.

    He found himself always hanging out with you, shootin’ the breeze, smoking up on the roof after classes, putting his hand around your shoulder when you told a joke that made him and Taka crack up at lunch. He kept many secrets of yours, and promised to take them to his grave.

     When you came out to him as someone who likes men, he stuttered his response a little, but pulled it together.

     “It takes a real man to admit what his heart’s feelin’, S/O, you can be sure your secret’s safe with me until you’re ready to tell everyone else.” Feeling the atmosphere become awkward out there alone on the rooftop, he quickly changed the subject “So, Ultimate Tailor, huh? Shit’s pretty sick. Seen some of your clothing designs out in the art wing’s showcase. Don’t tailors just tighten up and fix a person’s clothes, though?” You smiled at his interest in your field.

     “Uh, yeah, normally I think they take in and size up clothes, b-but,” you put a hand to the back of your neck, nervous with his complete attention on you, “ I think some make designs from scratch, I have always loved making my own clothes. Maybe I should just be the Ultimate Fashionista instead of Enoshima…” you giggled, feigning envy humorously. Mondo smirked.

   “Yeah, maybe you should. You gotta design me a new coat sometime. This one’s seen better days.” You both looked at the dirt caked at the bottom of his coat, permanent stains throughout, and loose threads hanging in random places.

     “F-for sure!” You grinned.

     Your days returned to normal, lunch together and group hangouts after school, but something was different...to Mondo at least. He had to admit, to himself only of course, that he felt a little jealous of you. You could just come out and tell him who you are inside. He could never be that open. He usually was the one keeping secrets, not expressing them. But then, he caught himself. Why should he feel jealous...he was a simple guy, he didn’t even have any secrets or desires to share, even with who would listen. He brushed it off as just his normal hot-headed mindset, and packed up his stuff in his bag for the day.

     But the next few days, his eyes would linger on you even more, and he would become uncomfortable, his insides warm, his head clouded with that same envy tugging at his heart strings. In the hallway after last period, he kicked his locker, frustrated at this knot in his head and mind. What the fuck is up with him. Then it clicked…

     “It takes a real man to admit what his heart’s feelin’.”

     The next day, he pulled you out to the rooftop, his cheeks red and his heart beating wildly. You waited patiently, sitting down, figuring you were just in for another hang out session like usual, and pulled out your homework from third period, until he began to speak.

     “L-look man, I have been thinkin’, ever since you told me you’re into dudes…”

     Oh no...your head dropped expectantly. You felt like this was bound to come eventually, no matter what. He was this macho dude and hung around you all the time. It must be bothering him, ruining his rep-

     “That shit takes heart, like I said before, and I owe you my truth too, r-right, since you trusted me with yours?” He startled you, looking for validation. Mondo only stuttered when he was pissed and screaming, but he looked nervous now, a look of begging to be understood that you empathized with all too well.

     “I…” he looked out over the roof. Stop being a little bitch, Mondo, he seethed internally. “Fuck, I don’t know, man. I like you? I want us to be more than just friends. I mean, you’re cool as my bro, but…” He didn’t expect you to reach out and take his hand hesitantly, his cheeks flushing. You didn’t want his evident struggle to drag out until he blew a fuse.

     “I think that sounds ‘sick’ ” you mused, taking up one of his favorite sayings. He nodded, a arm around your shoulder, unable to look you in the eyes. But he felt a wave of peace run over him.

     Your close friends immediately picked up on this new relationship, seeing you lean on Mondo a little harder at lunch, Mondo’s blush as he rested his hand on yours over the table. Nekomaru slapped your shoulder loudly that first day as a new couple, almost shattering the bone there. He laughed, saying he couldn’t wait for you two to just finally admitted your feelings. A team works smoother when everyone is on the same page, after all.

     Weeks passed, and inside school, there was little issue. It’s the 21st century. Most were accepting of your obvious relationship. Those bigots who weren’t didn’t try anything. No stupid ass student was picking on a dude with Mondo, Taka, Fuyuhiko, Kaito and Nekomaru at his back.

     The problems started to arise when Mondo took you on rides on his bike, to his gang’s HQ or stomping grounds in general. That was the outside world, not an institution of modern and formal learning like Hope’s Peak. Japan itself was a little behind western society in terms of LGBT acceptance, and like the rest of the world, had a long ways to go.

     With Mondo being the leader of a biker gang, a setting known for violence, masculinity, grit, toughness, and a yakuza-like brotherhood of men, it just wasn’t an environment most conducive to openly gay relationships, but no one in the gang dared to call out Mondo, knowing how hot-headed he is and ultimately respecting him as their leader. They owed him unconditional loyalty.

     That was, until one day, a rather cheeky second-in-command saw you filing your nails, sitting in Mondo’s lap on a couch at HQ, and decided he’d had enough. He confronted you both in front of everyone, all eyes on you, making you shrink back into Mondo’s chest.

     “Eh, boss. If you’re gonna have a dude in a fucking dress doin’ his nails and twirling like a princess on your dick, why not just date a chick? This is gettin’ a little embarassin.” He spoke angrily. Mondo was taken aback, not used to being challenged by his men, obviously the alpha of his pack. He paused, struggling to find a response.

     “What’s the fuckin’ issue?! Like most of you idiots aren’t so close that you might as well be tuggin’ each other’s dicks anyway!” He spat defensively, refusing to take back talk from a subordinate. He looked down to your shaking form in his lap, seeing that you were obviously disappointed with his response and looked up at him with a bit of anger, tears at the corner of your eyes.

Why was he defending his rep, and attacking the man back? He should be defending the relationship, and pushing forward acceptance. It made you feel like he wasn’t proud of you, ashamed of what you two had become.

     He saw this in your eyes and hated himself, changing his stance quickly. He scooped you up from under your thighs from his lap and set you on the couch beside him. He stood, stepping up to the out-of-line gang member, chest out, looking down on him with malice.

     “Maybe you’ve forgotten your place, yeah? You forget who’s in charge? I’m involved with S/O, he’s with me, so he’s part of the gang. You’re gonna accept that, or there’s gonna be trouble to deal with, got me? What, you such a pussy that you can’t accept shit if it ain’t what you expect it to be?!” The second-in command cowered, breaking eye contact with Mondo, and the rest of the onlooking members returning to what they were doing. “Now, we got any other issues?”

     When Mondo drove you home on his bike hours later, you sat behind him as always, but squeezed onto his waist a little tighter than usual, and his heart beat proudly, knowing for once he was sure he did the right thing. You two rode silently, you pecking his cheek before slipping inside your house. He walked back to his bike, blushing like mad, and you two texted all night.

     The very next week, Mondo was over at your house for the first time, doing homework in your room. Well, that’s what you were supposed to be doing. Mondo wasn’t exactly the model student, much the the chagrin of his best friend Taka, and you just weren’t in the mood. And so you sat, him eating some chips from your pantry, watching you paint your nails on your bed, a towel to catch loose drips under your flattened out palm. You looked up to him, smiling at having his full attention on you as per usual when you were alone..

     “Want me to paint yours next?” It just slipped out. You didn’t really mean it. A guy like Mondo wouldn’t want that, surely, but you figured it wouldn’t harm to tease him. To your surprise, he responded rather quickly.

     “I seen Kaito walkin’ around this week with that shit on his nails. Maki apparently forced him to after he lost a bet to her. Didn’t look that bad, actually. Kinda looked sick with his jacket, all purple and shit,” he paused to think, “ fuck it, sure. But no pastel shit, yeah?” Your heart leapt with excitement. There’s no way you expected him to answer in a positive manner, but in this relationship, you quickly learned that you often underestimated Mondo, and let his macho-biker-gang persona leave you biased. You didn’t want people judging you by your sexuality or the eyeliner you wore, and suddenly felt hypocritical for ever pre-judging your big motorcylce-head of a boyfriend.

     Mondo held his hands out after you finished, observing the slick coat of black polish that covered his once grisly and battered nails. Yes, you had to manicure them real quick to even get the polish to stick. They had dirt under them and the cuticles were disgusting.

     “Hell yeah.” he simply spoke, smirking before pulling you in to lean on him as you finally pulled out your homework.

     Weeks turned into months, and soon Mondo was watching you get your ears pierced again in a new place, then sitting in the chair to get his done. He took you, in turn, to get “ink that matched your bitchin’ sense of style” as he put it. The tattoo didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, and certainly inspired you to design clothes that showed it off and accentuated it.

#xreader #reader insert #mondo #mondo x reader #danganronpa #Trigger happy havoc #v3 #imagine #headcanon #LGBT #gay #male reader #he/him #fanfic #fanfiction #mondo owada #mondo owada x reader #mondo oowada #scenarios #modkokichi #s/o #male s/o #boyfriend #male #masculine #male pronouns #kiyotaka ishimaru #fluff #sfw #femboy

[gaygryffindorgal]

Chapter 2: Apprentice Curse-Breakers

Summary: The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher has some extracurricular activities in mind, and Ben struggles with the events of last year.

Pairings: Eventual OC/Merula Snyde

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Mild swearing, canon typical mean Merula

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Chapter 2: Apprentice Curse-Breakers

Their first class of the year was DADA, and that made Verna extremely nervous. Rowan had made it clear they didn’t think Rakepick could be trusted. In their words, she had been shifty at best and suspicious at worst last year when she had worked with Verna. Rowan was not happy about Rakepick’s appointment as a professor and that made Verna uneasy too. She had always known Rowan had far better judgement than her, and most days Charlie and Ben agreed with that sentiment. So, after breakfast, when the Gryffindors were filing into the DADA classroom, the mood between the four friends was not over the moon. Rakepick was already in the classroom, writing something at her desk. The class went through some major decorative changes each year when a new teacher took it over. It had become routine by now. For Rakepick, the theme seemed to be artifacts of various sizes and ages, that were spread all over the room on pedestals and tables, cabinets and other surfaces.

“Cursed items,” Rowan noted, when they took their seats.

“A niffler,” Verna replied, pointing out Sickleworth, Rakepick’s niffler whom she had had an unlikely partnership with last year, while investigating the Sleepwalking curse.

That was when Professor Rakepick got up from her seat, cleared her throat and snapped her wand, closing the classroom door and making writing appear on the blackboard in front of the class.

“Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts,” she announced, in a tone that implied not a small amount of unimpressedness. “I realize I am your fifth instructor in as many years, and that most of your other teachers’ methods were as questionable as their characters.”

Next to Verna, Rowan balled their hands into fists. They obviously had a thing or two to say about that.

“This year, I am not only going to teach you how to defend yourselves, but how to attack the Dark Arts,” Rakepick continued. “You will receive the finest instruction from someone who has actually faced the worst the Dark Arts have to offer.”

Something about the speech did make Verna listen. She couldn’t deny being interested in learning combat spells, the more the better, because she was sure to need them. From the corner of her eye, she also saw Merula listening intently. This year was gonna be another one spent trying to beat Merula to the top of their class. DADA was pretty much the only subject where she had any chance at all. Usually, it was Rowan and Merula vying for the title, but Verna wasn’t hopeless when it came to duelling and martial magic.

“They say this position is cursed,” Rakepick was saying now. “But breaking curses is what I do best. Now let’s get started, take out your books.”

~

After a whole class spent on how to deal with Ghouls, Verna was feeling much better about DADA. Maybe Rakepick wasn’t going to be so bad. Rowan didn’t feel the same way.

“She might know what she’s talking about, but she has no teaching experience, and I still don’t trust her after the way she dealt with you last year Verna,” they were saying, a little heated. “I think you should be careful if she decides to ask something from you, or… something…”

“Don’t you think you’re maybe overreacting a little bit?” asked Charlie.

“I agree with Rowan,” Ben inserted. “I don’t like her either.”

“We’ll be careful,” Verna assured her friends. “But Dumbledore must’ve had a reason hiring her.”

“Yeah, that’s true… I don’t know, I just don’t like this…” Rowan said and slowly the conversation turned to more casual matters, such as Barnaby Lee’s new pet crup puppy. The general consensus seemed to be that it was extremely cute.

~

After the day’s classes Verna was officially introduced to one Percy Weasley in the library. She and Charlie headed there to get started on charting out how much cramming they’d have to do for their O.W.L.s, only to find Bill and Percy already there, both noses buried deep in books, a scrappy-looking rat sitting on the table next to their study-material.

“Oh, hi Verna,” Bill said with a smile. “Did you two come to actually study?” The surprise in his voice was neither flattering nor unexpected.

“We came to plan on studying,” Verna told Bill, as she and Charlie sat down.

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” Bill chuckled and then patted Percy on the shoulder. “Percy, this is Verna.”

“I know,” Percy said in a manner that seemed much too adult-like for an 11-year-old. “She gave us a rather short introduction of Gryffindor common room last night, but I haven’t had a chance to properly introduce myself, I’m Percy Weasley, future prefect, Head Boy, and Minister for Magic.”

“It’s really nice to meet you, Percy, sounds like you have your future pretty well planned out,” Verna said and emulated her tone and smile to Beatrice from the previous night, with wildly different results. It appeared Percy was not a fan of hers.

“If you let him, he’ll plan your life for you, too,” Bill said, amused.

“This is my loyal rat, Scabbers,” Percy continued.

“Loyal?” asked Charlie. “It runs off every chance it gets.”

“There’s something off about that rat, yeah…” Bill agreed.

“Ron likes him!” Percy defended his pet.

“Ron’s eight, he likes everything except for spiders,” Charlie complained. Both of the older Weasleys seemed to have such a weird aversion for poor Scabbers that Verna felt bad for it.

“I have a rat too; his name is Hamish. He actually belonged to my brother, but I’ve been taking care of it in his absence.”

This seemed to appeal to Percy, whose tone towards Verna changed a little, when he said: “That’s really kind of you, to take care of your brother’s pet.”

Verna considered this a victory.

~

Their study session was cut short, when Professor Rakepick approached their table something like thirty minutes into Verna and Charlie trying to figure out what exactly to focus most on.

“Mr. Weasley,” she started, and all three of the Weasleys replied with an immediate ‘yes?’.

Verna stifled a laugh.

“William Weasley,” Rakepick specified. “Come with me. You too Miss Malinda, we have work to do.”

Exchanging a glance with Charlie, and Rowan’s misgivings about Rakepick running on a loop in her head, Verna followed Bill and the professor out of the library.

“What is this about?” she whispered to Bill.

“No idea, I guess we’ll find out soon, though…”

 ~

Rakepick took them up to her classroom, where Merula Snyde was already sitting on one of the desks, preoccupied with changing the colour of her painted nails to pay much attention to Verna and the others entering. Verna wasn’t happy to see her. Whatever Rakepick had in mind seemed to involve Merula, and that was never good news.

“Cease your activities Miss Snyde, we have important matters to discuss,” Rakepick commanded, and Merula immediately jumped down from the desk and stood straight. Verna and Bill walked up next to her as Rakepick went on to stand beside the teacher’s desk. She was tall and had a bearing of someone accustomed to commanding respect. Verna found it quite easy to believe she was capable of handling anything that was thrown at her. That’s how I want to be, she thought briefly.

“Congratulations you three. Of all the students at Hogwarts, I’ve chosen you to be my apprentice curse-breakers. Mr Weasley for his bravery and determination, Miss Snyde for her ambition and strength, and Miss Malinda for her natural talent, and obvious connection to the cursed vaults.”

“Why is Merula here?” Verna asked without missing a beat. She was not about to compromise her chances of rescuing her brother for the sake of Merula’s ambitions. She knew by now that Merula would never sacrifice her chances of getting whatever power and knowledge the vaults could give her, not for Jacob’s sake, not for anyone’s.

“Because she is a powerful witch and you’d be a fool not to accept her help, after all, I had to save you from Mr Copper’s attack just months ago.”

Merula remained quiet but gave Verna a smug grin.

“Enough. We need each other’s help to find the next vault and end its curse before anyone gets hurt,” Rakepick said. “I’m going to train you so that you can be more of a help than a hindrance to me, starting with the Incarcerous spell. Wands out!”

 ~

The three of them spent the next three hours attempting to learn the Binding spell with Rakepick’s instruction. She was a good teacher. Strict, demanding, but very clear in the way she instructed them, not leaning on any extra flash, just taking the simplest route to the desired outcome. Unsurprisingly, Bill was the first one to nail the spell. He had two years’ worth more experience and had always been talented. When Verna finally managed to cast the spell on Merula, she felt a sense of accomplishment far greater than if they had used training dummies. The spell conjured ropes that wound tightly around Merula, trapping her arms and binding her legs together. She wobbled for a while and then stumbled to the floor with a grunt. Verna couldn’t help but grin.

“Verna, I don’t think she can breathe…” Bill interrupted her victorious train of thought.

“Oh, shit,” Verna cursed. “Finite Incantatem!” she pointed her wand towards Merula and the ropes around her unbound. “Are you alright?” she asked despite herself.

“Of course, Malinda, mind your own business,” Merula spat, looking more hurt by the audacity of Verna asking her if she was okay. She got up and dusted off her ropes, avoiding looking at any of them.

Rakepick cleared her throat and said: “This is a valuable lesson; we are a team now. A family. No matter what happens, we must protect one another. Do you understand?”

With a sideways glance at Merula, Verna nodded. She hadn’t had this good of a chance to finding any of the previous vaults. Rakepick was an accomplished curse-breaker and now it started to make sense why she had singled out Verna the previous year. Maybe she had already known she’d work here this year and need Verna’s expertise with stopping another curse roaming the halls of Hogwarts. That was something good to tell Rowan, at least, to put their mind on ease.

“And the rest of you?” asked Rakepick with impatience.

“Of course,” Bill said immediately.

Merula eyed both of them with nothing short of disgust and then said: “Fine.”

“Good, then that’s all for tonight, you can go.”

 ~

Rakepick ushered them out of her class, and the three of them were left standing in the empty, darkening corridor. Verna had no idea about the time, but she guessed it was quite late and that they most definitely had missed dinner.

“So that was kind of… strange,” Bill said, but he sounded more excited than anything.

“Finally, someone is doing something in this school,” scoffed Merula.

“And I don’t want you or your megalomania getting in the way of saving my brother,” Verna exclaimed.

“Don’t worry Malinda, you finally have capable people helping so there’s a chance you won’t fuck this up.”

“Fuck off Merula.”

The shorter girl laughed, but there was nothing humorous about the sound. “You like to pretend you’re above the rest of us with your little mission to save your brother, but let’s face it; you’re just scared to admit you like feeling special. You want what’s inside those vaults just as much as me.”

“Shut your mouth about my brother,” Verna snarled. “I’m nothing like you.”

“Of course you’re not, cause I’m not pathetic.”

Verna instinctively reached for her wand and Merula did the same, taking a threatening step closer.

“Verna, we should… probably go… now,” Bill interrupted and placed himself between the two girls. He then proceeded to practically drag her towards the Gryffindor common room by the arm.

~

“I had it under control,” Verna said once they were out of earshot.

“Maybe, but I’d rather not take either one of you to the hospital wing in several different pieces.”

“Fine, yeah, you’re right or whatever… She just gets on my nerves.”

Bill gave her a curious look Verna couldn’t quite place, and then said: “Yeah, I know. You shouldn’t let her get to you that much, it’s what she wants.”

“I know, it’s infuriating.”

“You’re gonna have to be able to work together somehow, though.”

Verna frowned. “I’m not risking my brother’s, or anyone else’s life because of some school rivalry, don’t worry.”

“Good,” Bill said and then stopped. “Is that… Ben?” he asked and pointed to an alcove not far from where they were standing. It was dark so he was partly concealed in shadows, but when he heard his name, he looked towards them.

“Oh, hi Verna, Bill…”

“What are you sitting out here for?” Verna asked and went to her friend. Ben looked rough, like he hadn’t slept.

“I wanted to be alone and there’s always someone in the common room or the dorm…”

“Oh, sorry, I can go- “

“No, actually, can I talk to you for a second, Verna… I…” he trailed off and looked at Bill apologetically.

“I’ll go on ahead, don’t stay out long though,” Bill said reassuringly. Then he walked off to the direction of the Gryffindor tower.

“What did you want to talk about?” asked Verna and sat on the bench in the alcove next to Ben.

For a moment, Ben didn’t look like he was going to answer. Verna had the sudden urge to hug him, but she didn’t move, fearing that Ben would change his mind and leave like last night. Finally, he cleared his throat and stammered: “I’m scared that someone’s gonna take control of me again, and make me do something worse, or that I already have but I just can’t remember.”

He really was in a state. Gently, Verna laid a careful hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll work this out, you don’t have to deal with all this shit on your own, Ben, I’m the reason you’re in this mess in the first place.”

“I still don’t remember what really happened before I attacked you… Do you… do you really believe me? That I was controlled?”

“I promise you that I do, please at least stop worrying about that,” Verna assured him. Ben huffed out a breath and his shoulders relaxed a bit.

“Thank you, Verna, I don’t know if I’d be as understanding if I was in your shoes…”

Verna bit her lip. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to hear, but she couldn’t exactly blame Ben. Everything had gotten so messed up last year with Rowan and Ben arguing and Verna feeling like she was losing touch with them both. They used to all be so close and now every single interaction was laced with something like doubt. An uncertainty Verna wanted so badly to get rid of.

“We should head back to the common room before Filch finds us here, c’mon,” Verna said and got up.

Ben stood to follow and they were about to head after Bill, when suddenly Ben grabbed Verna’s arm and pulled her behind him.

“Look out!” he yelled and took out his wand but before he could so much as utter an incantation, a purple light hit him and knocked him to the side. Verna looked frantically for the source of the spell, and had her wand out in seconds, but she wasn’t fast enough either. Suddenly she felt her entire body stiffen up, as she was hit with what must’ve been the full body-bind curse. As she hit the ground quite painfully, she saw a hooded figure approach them from the shadows of the corridor. Desperately she tried to move, knowing full well it was not going to work. Her breathing came in shallow gasps as she lay there, helpless to do anything. The red-clad figure walked closer and kicked Verna’s wand out of her reach, as if it would’ve been any use for her in this state anyway.

“I told you death was coming to Hogwarts, Verna Malinda,” the figure said in a voice that was impossible to place or describe. It was modified with magic. “We still need you alive, but before this year ends, one of your friends has to die…”

Verna tried to focus on getting her fingers to move, to do something, anything. Her thoughts were a flurry of desperation and anger. The hooded figure leaned over Verna. She couldn’t make out a face or anything that could be used to recognize the attacker. Verna braced herself for something worse, but nothing happened. Instead, the figure stalked off, back into the shadows.

~

Verna was still trying to force her uncooperative muscles to move, when she saw Ben move in the corner of her eye. The boy sat up and Verna lost sight of him. She heard his footsteps and a muttered spell, and then felt her body able to move again. Without a second glance at Ben, Verna shot up like a lightning bolt, chasing into the direction the hooded person had disappeared to. She had to catch them, she had to. Her ears rang and when she looked down to her wand hand, it was shaking. She wasn’t sure if it was anger, fear, or both.

“Verna, wait!” she heard Ben’s voice, and footsteps echoing after her.

Of course, there was nothing and no one to find. Verna was getting sick of this. She balled her hands into fists so hard her nails dug into her palms. How could she have let the wizard incapacitate her like that? Ben caught up to her and Verna took notice of him now that she could think a little more clearly. He seemed fine, just a little rattled.

“Verna, hey, it’s okay,” Ben tried to reassure her, but it wasn’t okay. Someone had threatened to kill one of her friends. The thought made her chest feel like it was filled with water. The ease with witch this stranger had knocked both of them out of the game made Verna feel sick all over.

“This is bullshit.”

“Verna-“

She took a deep breath. “Are you alright?” she then asked Ben.

“Yeah, you?”

Verna nodded. “Do you think that was someone we know being used against us?”

“I don’t know to be honest… but we should head back now, before someone else attacks us…” Ben said and there was nothing to it, he was right. Verna knew she wasn’t going to find anything but trouble if she stayed here, so she followed Ben back to the Gryffindor common room.

#hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #jacob's sibling #hphm mc #merula snyde #charlie weasley #bill weasley #ben copper #rowan khanna #verna malinda #*mine #*my writing #vmatcv #idkidkdik #i'm consumed by self doubt but i'll post this anyway #i'm noticing so many things i struggle with as a writer #but i'm trying to keep in mind that this is just a fun little project and it doesn't have to be perfect #as always any and all feedback is warmly welcomed #it doesn't have to be more than a few words i promise you you will still make my entire day

[moonloredraws]

What tyepes and how elves do you have in your homebrew d&d??! Like the worldbuilding is huge, and hope I don't bother you by asking.

I don’t mind the questions, honestly! But be ready for an INCREDIBLY long read because I love elves and I might as well go into detail with them, and most of the information and brain thoughts can be found under the read more!

Anyway, I have 3 different realms. Manala, which is my Homebrew D&D world, The “It’s an Odd Kind of Fairytale Universe” which... is my webcomic’s universe (I still haven’t named the realm OTL) and Ozarathan, which is the Elf Only Universe. 

Manala is the one I’ll focus on since you asked D&D homebrew but I’ll touch on the other two as well. Ozarathan’s elf types are a mix between the Manala and IAOKOFT elves but with SOME differences.

Now... onto my D&D elves!

Manala has 10 types of elves. Here, we have 9 pictured, and those are the actual playable races. I’ll get to the last ones once I’ve explained these ones!

Manala has 2 categories of elves. True Elves and False Elves. False Elves are Wood Elves and Sea Elves, the rest are all True Elves. The reason for this categorization is that Wood Elves came to be when Eladrin mixed with Amali (beastfolk, essentially kemonomimi) and Sea Elves came to be when Eladrin mixed with Triton. They have plenty of elven blood, but they’re removed enough that they have their own cultures and are not as afflicted by The Hunt as True Elves are.

The Hunt is something all True Elves suffer from and it’s an innate bloodthirst. Elves on Manala are incredibly unhinged, especially Eladrin and Shadar Kai, who were the first Elves to be created onto Manala, and Shadar Kai especially just tend to start eating prey while it’s still alive. The others at least have the decency to kill the thing before starting to eat it. Most elves enjoy raw meat, and if it’s still warm from the hunt that’s even better.  

That being said, High Elves (so Sun Elves, Moon Elves and Drow) try to move away from being so overcome by the Hunt that they immerse themselves into practising the arts, and most modern High Elves don’t even experience the Hunt anymore... unless they actually go out to hunt. Which they don’t, because they either raise livestock or assign certain individuals to hunt so that not everyone turns into chaotic bloodthirsty morons. Sea Elves have no remnants of The Hunt, and Wood Elves experience it in a completely different way. They don’t revel in the kill, they revel in the hunt itself and a hunting party can spend weeks away from home tracking down some kind of behemoth, running it ragged until it dies from stress. 

True Elves also have mostly matriarchal societies, and most men dress in very revealing ways. Piercings and Tattoos are common across all True Elves, and preference of Fabric depends on region and subrace, with High Elves and Eladrin enjoying silken and loose flowing fabrics that move well, and Shadar Kai preferring leathers and wool to fight away the harsh cold of the Shadowfell.

Now... onto more specific explanations of the races!

Shadar Kai. Shadar Kai are one of the two Original Races of Elves. They were created alongside Eladrin, and at first were put into the Material Plane before the Creators decided to split the Material plane into 3, which resulted in the creation of the Shadowfell and Feywilds. Shadar Kai are definitely the most unpredictable of the elves, The Hunt is incredibly strong in them, and as such they get very distracted by that need to go out and kill some poor beast. Because of this, the Shadowfell is relatively safe where Elven societies exist, pretty much anything that’s deemed a danger is ripped apart. Their Shadowfell sister-race, the Shadow Orcs, keep them at an arm’s distance, but even if there’s surface bickering, but the two races are very close and if a larger enemy comes, the two team up and their combined forces easily dispatch any dangers.

Shadar Kai are the largest of all the elves. Stronger, more ferocious, and definitely way more extreme. Their society employs very Art Deco styles, unlike the other Elves who prefer the more fluid Art Nouveau looking styles. Shadar Kai have tons of piercings, and as they come of age, they get large geometric tattoos that cover their entire bodies to separate the youngins from adults. Shadar Kai do not have very colourful natural colours. Their eyecolour ranges from all tones from white to black, and occasionally very pale colours of any kind. Their Sclera tends to range from grey to black. Skintones range from black to white, and this is true for their hair too. The exception is with Ghost Shadar Kai, who are born pure white except for their sclera, and the result is a very jarring humanoid. They have feathery growths adorning their skin, mostly on the face, but down the back, on the shoulders and neck, as well as forearms is also common.

Up next are the Eladrin, who are really crazy and obviously very very horny because they ended up creating the false elves all on their own. They’re native to the Feywild, but very often travel to the Material Plane, so Eladrin are much more common than Shadar Kai. Like their Shadowfell counterparts, they have growths as well, but it ranges wildly from individual to individual, and even their season. 

Eladrin can be pretty much any colour, and often have skin markings. They’re a colourful bunch. Eladrin men tend to be VERY ostentatious, and the less actually properly covering their skin, the better. But don’t let the bright colours, horniness and smaller size distract you, because the Eladrin are only marginally better than Shadar Kai when it comes to dealing with the Hunt. They’re a bunch of party animals but will definitely rip your throat out if they feel threatened.

Surface High Elves are the best at taking care of their Hunt instinct, and actually have it so under wraps that they have extensive cities filled with so much art of all kind that they make other races forget that Elves are actually nuts. Surface High Elves developed after certain clans of Eladrins began losing their connections to the Feywild after spending extensive amounts of time on the Material Plane.

(Elerath isn’t a Sun Elf but he presents himself as such)

The men dress a LITTLE more sensibly, but the sheer variety of High Elf fashion can lead to some... weird clothing choices. Surface High Elves don’t have the jewel tone range of their Eladrin cousins, but still come in all kinds of skintones, hair colours and eye colours. They do not have any growths of any kind, and actually have super soft skin! (poking elf cheeks is super satisfying) The main difference between Sun and Moon Elves is mostly their colour schemes and sleep cycles. Sun Elves are diurnal, Moon elves are nocturnal.

Drow developed from an offshoot of Surface High Elves when they travelled into the Underdark to protect the Surface from Aberrations that had started migrating to the surface and causing chaos. Unlike canon Drow, Drow on Manala are not as bad with their overwhelming misandry and the whole “treating men like garbage” thing doesn’t exist. They’re still strongly matriarchal, and men are held to a different standard, but in a completely different way. Drow men are THE most beautiful group of elves in the entire world, and most high ranking ladies have harems of handsome men who they protect with such overwhelming ferocity that it almost rivals that of Shadar Kai. So I guess Drow men still get the short end of the stick but hey, at least they get pampered?? (But if you’re a handsome man, your chances of getting out into the world is... almost nil)

The Drow are zealous worshipers of The Spider, the Archfey of Weaving, Protection and Good Fortune, and due to this, they work in tandem with various Drider, who in this setting are natural Fey creatures, not drow dudes who fucked up a weird and complicated ritual. (Can you tell that I hate canon Drow culture? Because I really do. Drow have such great potential so here I am, turning things on its head)

Drow skintones range from white to charcoal, and sometimes have a slight purple tone. Eye colours tend to be jewel tones, but yellows, oranges and greens are very uncommon. Hair ranges from white to black, but can also be bright purple.  The exception is with ghost drow, who are pure white. Even their pupils are difficult to distinguish from their iris so they look super jarring.

Wood Elves are a fun bunch. They don’t mingle with other elves as much, not do they associate with Amali much, but they have good relations with both. Most Wood Elf cities are hidden from the world at large since they tend to just keep to themselves and protect nature from other races, and to protect the other races from whatever lurks in the forest. 

They have ears with extra lobes attached, and many also have fur on the tips and the back of the ears. Some individuals even have furry manes that run down their spines! Their colours are basically any shade of brown you can imagine. They span the entire human gamut, also include greys, and sometimes are a little too yellow or red toned to be completely right. They also sometimes have stripes or spots on their skins!

Then there’s the Sea Elves! Unlike other elves, Sea Elves are not mammalian. They lack breasts, and their young can eat fish pretty much as soon as they’re born. Sea Elf Babies are born very small, but more developed and take a while longer to get to their adult sizes since Sea Elves are quite large when it comes to elves. They have patches of scales on their skin, and gills. They can breathe both above and underwater, and most large Sea Elf societies are underwater, built into cliffs by the coast

Any colour a fish is, they can be. As such, Sea Elves are seen as very striking individuals if they come from more tropical seas, and they become very sought after courtesans.

Elves in general are really horny. Unlike most media where elves are seen as aloof and standoffish and holier-than-thou because of their beauty and long lifespans, on Manala, ALL elf subraces are pretty easy to seduce. They enjoy the attention, and as a result, the entire realm is filled with half-elves of ALL kinds of mixtures. Also, gender is so fluid in elven society. An Elf picks how they present themselves and because of the ease at which magic is available, they can sculpt their bodies to fit how they wish to be seen. Elves said Trans Rights.

Now... there’s one type of elf I didn’t touch on, and those are the Aetherians. The Aetherians don’t play much of a role on Manala because they’ve actually left. Aetherians are essentially Space Elves and they have WEIRD crazy powers. They’re the creators of the realm, but after they deemed their newest project complete enough, they left. Well. Most of them did. Two of them remain in the Realm but I’m not going to reveal their identities.

Aetherians are HUGE. They’re like. 9-10 feet tall, and have geometric grooves in their skin that glow. They also have floating crowns of shards above their heads. They’re a mystery, and were involved in the creation of the world, but aside from that almost nothing is known of them.

So uhhh yeah. Those are my D&D elves.

I’ll add a little bonus section of the Ozarathan Elves here as well because that’s fun:

I haven’t finished drawing the lineup so the anatomy is whack on some of these here’s a general idea of their sizes??

(Also in IAOKOFT) The Solarians – slightly scorched skin, tanned, warm grey/brownish sclera, live in high mountains, art deco style, very isolationist.

(Also in IAOKOFT) The Umbrals - Reskinned Manala Shadar Kai and Ghost Shadar Kai, cousins to Umbrals, very similar aesthetics

The Vokorians- Reskinned Manala Wood Elves. They have the same fluffy ears but also have tails.

The Hush-Hush – Reskinned Manala Drow and Ghost Drow, but also have tails.

The Maritimians- Scaled Skin in parts, fins and gills, often have tails. Freshwater and Saltwater varieties exist.

(Also in IAOKOFT) The Zephyrians- Elves with small wings. Often have feathering on their bodies, and also have feathered tails. Live in moving cities that get moved by the wind. Nomadic.

(Also in IAOKOFT) The Uzarians- High Elves, the most typical elves.

(Also in IAOKOFT) The Duneriders- Desert elves. Grey sclera, dark skin, have marks, offshoot of Solarians, but have rounded highly mobile ears.

#D&D #Elves #Homebrew D&D #The World of Malana #The World of Ozarathan #Enjoy this GIANT MASTERPOST OF ELVES!!!

[stormcrawler75]

Taking a Different Path (No Matter How Different the Path) Chapter 4

Summary: In the past, the four escaped subjects raid Walmart for food and clothes. In the present, Roman deals with his brother's decision to go to College. Warnings: Mentions of stun guns and mentions of eating disorders.

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

January 4, 2001 2:19 AM

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Logan looked the grocery store door up and nodded before giving Patton a firm nod. "Give me the babies," he ordered, holding out his arms. "You'll most likely need your full concentration for this."

"I don't know about this, Lolo," Patton said hesitantly as he passed the two sleeping babies over to Logan, who held them only semi-awkwardly. "The Doctors said that stealing was bad."

"They said that because they didn't want us to take extra food when it was in arm's reach," Logan explained with a sigh. "Something we did several times. It didn't bother you then."

Patton pouted at him and stomped his foot. "That was different! We were starving then-"

Logan arched an eyebrow and glanced down at the babies. "And they are starving now," he pointed out. And he was right. Other than stolen bottles of water, a banana, and a bottle of newborn milk stolen from an actual newborn, none of them had had a single thing to eat. And it was showing. Roman had lost some of his chub and the unnamed baby was a lot smaller than he should be. "They won't survive much longer without food," Logan said to Patton softly. "I know you don't like this but we need to do it."

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment before Patton fixed his jaw and turned to the store's door, holding out his hands and squeezing his eyes shut. Logan didn't look away from Patton, not even when he heard metal doors squeaked and strain as they were pried open. He worried for a moment that the noise would wake the babies but, very luckily, they remained quiet the entire time.

Patton gasped for breath when he stopped, doubling over and supporting himself against his knees. "D-did I do it?"

"You sure did," Logan said proudly, looking at the doors with a bright smile on his face. The metal doors had been pried open, leaving a nice sized hole for them to walk through. "You did amazingly, Patton. But-"

"I'm not done yet," Patton finished, wiping his forehead. He smiled at Logan tiredly. "Wait here. I'll be out in a little bit" Patton slipped inside the Walmart, leaving Logan standing outside with two very small and hungry babies in his arms.

Logan sighed and looked around nervously. He felt so vulnerable out in the parking lot without Patton watching his back. Doctors could be watching them from anywhere with stun guns waiting at their sides. Guards could be on their way over here to drag them all back to the Hospital with the Doctors waiting there to rechip them. He swallowed and pushed back those thoughts. They would do nothing to help anything right now. 

But, perhaps stepping into the shadows a little more would help.

"I am very glad that the two of you are asleep right now," Logan whispered, looking up at the moon. It was so beautiful when not looked at through a barred window. "The two of you would find this very upsetting. But it'll be alright. We will be getting you both some food right now. And something to carry you in." He smiled down at them gently. "And a book of names too. We need to find you a proper name, little one," he told the unnamed baby softly.

The response he got from the baby was nothing but a little grunt. Logan sighed. From his experience these last few days, grunts meant only one thing. He really hoped that this store had more diapers in it. 

He startled when Patton poked his head out of the hole in the door. His friend's face was drenched with sweat but he had a bright grin on his face. "Finished," Patton chirped. "Got all the cameras crushed into little balls and the people putting the things away knocked out!" He skipped out of the hole and held out his arms demandingly. "Now gimme one of the cuties! I'll get the diapers and carrier bags and you get some food Then we can both find some clothes for ourselves. 'kay, 'kay?"

 "Of course," Logan agreed. He passed Roman over to Patton and sighed in relief at being relieved of the extra weight. "We need backpacks too."

Patton nodded. "Got it!" He walked back inside and disappeared into the aisles. Logan took a deep breath and looked back down to the baby, just in time to see the baby's eyes open seconds before tired and hungry cries started up.

"Shhh, shhh," Logan cooed, rocking him back and forth as he walked inside. He grabbed a cart and awkwardly started to push it with one hand. "We're getting you food now, little one." He squinted up at the signs. His glasses had gotten chipped in the escape making it even harder to read than normal. But eventually, he found the aisle with all the baby food. 

There were so many different kinds.

Logan ended up grabbing plenty of the little jars with mashed foods inside, about ten boxes with bottles of something called "powered formula", newborn food, inside, and some little biscuits for Roman to chew on. Roman liked to chew on things ever since his teeth started to grow in. He also grabbed a sippy cup for Roman and a baby bottle for the baby.

Logan immediately broke the box full of formula opened and poured one of the bottles inside the baby bottle. He firmly put the top on and held it to the baby's mouth. "Come on then," he said gently. "I know it's cold but you gotta drink it."

It seemed that the baby didn't need the encouragement. Almost immediately, the baby latched onto the bottle and started to drink. Logan sighed in relief and paused, resting against the cart and smiling tiredly at his small burden. "There we are," he whispered. "I told you that I'd find a way for you to survive."

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

January 13, 2020 1:02 PM

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Roman stared out his window with a sad expression on his face. His right wing was stretched out in front of him and he was slowly grooming it. His feathers had been puffing up so much lately that it was making it harder and harder to groom. And Roman knew that it was completely, totally, one hundred percent, his own damn fault.

Really, Roman should know better than to forget to groom his wings. Wing care was super important! How could he please Icarus' adoring fans with puffy feathers?! It just wouldn't do!

Before, Virgil would help groom Roman's wings but since Virgil was off to stupid College, Roman had to do it all by himself. 

College. Who even cared about something as stupid as College? College was dumb and stupid and you didn't learn anything important at College. Roman thought that College was the stupidest thing that his baby brother could've thought of.

His gave drifted over to the stolen Arts College poster he had ripped from a wall on one of his daily flights. His mood turned melancholy as he took in the picture of the man standing on a stage with roses littered around him. 'Yeah,' Roman thought with an air of jealousy that was somehow both general and directly pointed at Virgil. 'College is so stupid.'

Who cared that Virgil was going off to make new friends and leave his older brother behind? His older brother that was stuck inside all day except for when he was in costume? Roman certainly didn't care. And it didn't matter that Virgil was going off to be a terrific vet and start his own life. Roman had his own life. He didn't need his emo younger brother.

Roman sighed and flopped back on his canopy bed. "Who am I kidding," he muttered. Sadly, there was no answer to his open question. Rude. And before he realized what he was doing, Roman had his phone in his hands and was staring at Virgil's number.

He had made such an ass of himself these past few days. Going on live TV and telling everyone that there was going to be a new member of their team. Roman wasn't an idiot. Virgil was just as stubborn as him and wouldn't turn his back on stupid College, not now. All Roman did was make a complete fool of himself and got embarrassed by Logan carrying him off. And then sending that text this morning?! Ugh, no wonder Virgil stayed away from him! His older brother was the world's biggest drama Queen in the world!

But... if he admitted that he was wrong then he'd have to admit why and... Roman didn't think he could stand the pitiful looks from his normal looking brothers. It would just be too awful. And Roman would probably start crying and there was nothing worse than running eyeshadow.

Roman tossed the phone across the room. 

He sighed and turned onto his side, pulling his laptop over to him and pulling up his blog. He posted:

[Does anyone else get having something about you that draws so much attention and you love it? But you also hate that it draws so much damn attention?]

Roman sighed and rested his chin on his hand. This computer was the only normal interaction he got outside his brothers. And he really did love his brothers! He adored them! Patton was so supportive and he was finally gaining some more weight! Roman was so proud of him for eating more than he had before. He didn't think he had ever been so proud of his older brother than he had been when he saw a bit of chub on Patton's stomach at morning training. The morning training that his baby brother wasn't at.

Annnnnnnnnnnnd, welcome back bad mood! How good to see you again!

Roman pushed those awful feelings back and reminded himself to ask Logan to make him some hot chocolate. Logan made the best hot chocolate ever, even if he sometimes didn't mix the power all the way through. It was the thought that counted!

Just when Roman could almost taste that powerdy hot chocolate on his lips, his feathers bristled and he froze. He sat up clumsily and looked around wildly. The windows were closed and the door was locked shut. Roman shivered a little. For some reason, he felt like he was being watched.

Roman forced himself to stand up, his feathers puffed up behind him, and walk over to the window. He looked around nervously and couldn't seem to calm down even when he didn't see a single person outside. 'It was just a bird,' he tried to convince himself. 'Everything's fine.'

But even so, Roman drew the curtains closed. Like Logan always said, it was better safe than sorry. You never knew who was watching.

#taking a different path au #storm writes #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #tw gun mention #tw eating disorders

[jinmukangwrites]

Somebody Different (3/???)

Beginning, Previous, Next (To Be Released)

Summary: Decisions must be made, a life hangs in the balance, Time and Twilight scramble to keep broken pieces together.

Note: Sort of a filler chapter but very important nonetheless. Angst of most kinds can be found here. Tread carefully. And by that I mean enjoy.

-o-o-o-o-

Epona huffs through her nostrils, her body pumps beneath his legs as he lets go of her reigns and aims an arrow made of light at the stomach of the terrible beast snarling above him, trying to find and probably smash him into the ground as a new dish called "the Hero's pancake". He takes a steadying breath and lets the arrow fly, and it's thanks to months of practice that he hits his target dead center.

Calamity Ganon screams and rears its head up, snarling, almost desperately trying to shift so it can get a better look at the one who will defeat it.

Link thanks whatever gods there are—he's still learning—for Epona. The beautiful horse knows how to hold her own in battle, and he hardly even had to steer her towards safety, she did it herself. He rubs her neck and she whinnies. This could be it, he thinks. He could fail here, and he could die here. It's all been leading up to these moments, and it could all have been for nothing…

He shakes his head. No. He can do this. If he dies… Epona will die. Zelda will die. Purah, Impa, Paya, Beetle, everyone, all of Hyrule and the unknown lands to the north and west, all the uncharted seas to the South and east, all of it will be doomed.

He cannot fall here.

Though, true to the theme of his life, everything suddenly goes downhill. A leg of the beast above him moves suddenly and too quickly for him to avoid. Epona stumbles below him and he barely has time to wince at the pitiful noise she makes before he's thrown clear off from her back. He rolls for a long time, limbs flailing and skin rubbing raw to the point of blood each time he makes contact with the ground. His head spins and it takes him a moment to recognize that he's no longer rolling.

Groaning, he curls his hand around the grass and dirt below him and forces his head up, ignoring every pang of pain trying to coax him back down.

In front of him is the beast, smoke steaming from the corners of it's lips, the sky runs a blood red and darkness seems to be closing in. However, he doesn't need Zelda to call out to him that there's a last weakness, that not all is lost. Looking up at the head of Calamity Ganon, he can see light wanting to burst through in a giant, long crack. A single eye opens in that light, wildly looking around as if confused why it's there, why it's exposed.

He has to get to that. How? How does he get all the way up there?! Revali's Gale isn't strong enough to lift him that high, there has to be another way-

The beast in front of his roars and Link quickly rushes to his feet, pushing all pain to the back of his mind to deal with later. It's charging up, a deep purple beginning to glow at the back of its mouth. Before Link can do anything, the beam of malice he has managed to avoid up till this point is firing right at him.

And then he wakes with a start.

His chest is pounding and he's too hot and too cold at the same time. The other man, the one who calls himself "Legend" is still against the tree, resting somewhat fitfully if the wrinkles between his eyebrows are anything to go off from. Link sighs and leans back against his own tree, pulling his Hylian Cloak closer to him to ward away the chill of night. The campfire cracks, still strong, letting Link know he hasn't exactly been asleep long.

What happened… after Calamity Ganon fired at him? He can't remember anything past that, and it tears him apart. Did he defeat it like Legend has said? Did he fall? Was the whole battle actually fabricated? He used to think losing all of his memories was the worst thing that could happen to him, yet it seems the Resurrection Shrine has called his bluff and took half of his memories away.

Now he has three separate lives he must put together, one of a boy raised to be a knight, one of a memoryless knight training to be a hero, and one of a hero with seemingly no purpose anymore. Three versions of himself. If anyone is allowed to have an existential crisis, Link thinks he's probably the most entitled to one right about now.

Cricket's sing as he tries to calm his mind and heart. It's late, and he needs to sleep… but after a few minutes of trying he recognizes how impossible that is and instead reaches towards the Sheikah Slate connected to his hip. He turns it on and with practiced movements he flicks the screen towards the hundreds of photos he has stored onto the device. He started taking pictures of everything after he found out how important Zelda's pictures were to his memory. He's always been paranoid about forgetting everything again, so he thought that if there's a chance he forgets he'll be able to easily track down his memories.

If only it were that simple. It seems with each new beginning he has, the more difficult circumstances will make it for him.

He flicks his fingers through his very short second life until he comes upon the last photo he actually remembers taking. The beast. Calamity Ganon. He thought, at the time, that Zelda would be shaking her head in exasperation as he jumped of Epona to quickly snap a picture of the beast hell bent on destroying Hyrule. For the memories, you know?

It takes him a second to work up the courage to slide his finger across the screen to come across the next photo, and when he does his breath is taken away.

She's beautiful. He already knew this of course, but he's only ever seen her in blurry memories with half the information stuffed inside them. Seeing her like this, smiling at him with the endless expanse of world behind her… it fills him with so much joy... and so much sadness that he doesn't remember taking it, doesn't remember seeing her in person.

The next photo is a picture of them posing together in front of a silent princess. The next one is of her chasing a frog, and the next is her arm nearly being pulled out from her socket as she shakes Sidon's hand.

There's plenty of pictures like this, documenting a life after success, until the first strange photo pops up. It's simple yet so out of place. It's a picture of a bowl of soup that he figured out and perfected the recipe of just a few months into his journey. There's a child holding the bowl in his hands, bits of carrots and creamy soup dripping from the corners of his mouth as he smiles widely, as if it's been a very long time since he's had a good meal.

He studies this picture for a moment, trying to find familiarity with the person he's seeing, until he gives up with a huff and flicks to the next confusing image. This one strikes something in him… it's of a man, probably just a few years older than Link himself, tattooed on the face and clad in a wolf pelt. Link's posed in this one, his arm slung around the man's shoulder, making him lean down awkwardly as he's forced to bend unnaturally towards Link's shorter height. Link's smiling widely, and the man is frowning in surprise as if the photo was of complete surprise, like Link decided at the spur of the moment that he should have a picture with this man and took it before the other could complain.

The reason this photo stands out to him is because it tugs something in his gut, something that screams he should recognize this but for the life of him he can't place it. It reminds him of the time he came out of the resurrection chamber… the first time he came out of it. Alone, not a single memory to his name, hell, he didn't even have a name, at least not one he was sure about. It reminds him of when he first laid his hands on the Sheikah Slate, when that strange feeling of familiarity washed over him yet he had no recollection of actually seeing it before.

It's exactly like that, now that he thinks about it. The Sheikah Slate was the first thing he interacted with, this man was the one who pulled him out the second time.

More pictures, more faces, some striking more feelings than others but each as mind boggling as the one before. A small one with strange colored clothes and a bright smile that hides many secrets. A soft, middle sized one with a kind gaze and welcoming arms. A taller one who reminds Link just a bit of Revali, but his smile isn't as arrogant, it's the grin of a great leader. One that looks to be the eldest, a single eye hiding so much pain and wisdom but his expression is genuine and open. Another who looks like he laughs more than anything else, who looks like he's seen many mountains and many monsters, whose friendly stance and welcoming expressions screams that he's never let a single bad moment take away his hope.

Then there's Legend, he's only in a few pictures, he's probably mastered the art of avoiding the camera, but in the photos he's in there's always this glint of… happiness he's trying to hide behind layers and layers of unreadable expressions. He's happy, but he's trying to not let anyone know about it.

Well, that's what it looks like at least. Link likes to think he's good at reading people; when it comes to the Yiga clan, he really has to be.

He studies a few more pictures, flips back to look at them again, and all the while a brick begins to settle deeper and deeper into his stomach.

He shot a bomb at these people.

Sure, he had just woken up, the last thing in his mind was a powerful monster about to kill him, but he doesn't intentionally ever hurt people, even the Yiga. The only human whose death he's responsible for is Master Kohga, and he will make sure he goes the rest of his life without the death of another human on his conscious.

The more time that passes from the moment he woke up again, the more he regrets freaking out and using a drastic measure like taking a hostage. Maybe he should have stayed and talked with them... he hopes they're all okay… however, he also has to keep reminding himself that there's no way that he can know for sure that Legend's story is true… the one he was told piece by piece through the day, the story that each of these other faces are past incarnations of himself and that they're working together to fight an unseen threat larger than what any of them has ever faced before.

The pictures cannot be taken at face value. He already knows the Yiga can adopt the look of any person, so it's possible that each of these photos, even the ones with Zelda, are doctored.

He exits the gallery before the brick in his gut can grow any larger. Instead, he turns to where the map of Hyrule should be. Instead, it's all static. Nothing, not even any border lines that suggest there's a tower or some sort of way to get information of the land he's lost in.

He sighs and sets aside the slate, finding it useless for everything except making him anxious. He sets his eyes on Legend and stares for a second.

He has a decision to make, leave this mysterious man behind and make his escape to figure out where he is, or slow himself down, take Legend with him, and have a source of information. Questionable information but information nonetheless.

He'll decide in the morning…

-o-o-o-o-

"Will he be okay?" Wind asks and Time looks up from where he's nursing his bruised back. Twilight meets his eyes as he's wrapping Four's's head, both avoiding the youngest's questioning glance.

Time, instead turns to rest his gaze on Warrior, the only one in their group who's still unconscious, laying out on the forest floor with Twilight's pelt used as a pillow. Hyrule sits against a tree nearby with his legs pulled against his chest and his forehead resting against his knees, not bothering to look or talk to anyone.

At this point, Wind could be talking about either one of them.

What does Time say? Yes! Warrior will be completely fine, what's a few broken bones and a major concussion? He'll one hundred percent be okay even though they already used up all the red potions they had to cure the worst of everyone's injuries. Yes, they'll all be okay even though all of their travel bags were lost in the world switch. Everything is completely, without a doubt, a-okay even through Wild's gone hostile and took one of their own hostage.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to answer. Sky does for him.

"He's Warrior, he's never down long," Sky replies, brushing dust and dirt off from his Sailcloth. He sounds confident, even looks somehow confident despite how he's covered in dust and bandages, but Time catches the unnerved glance Sky sends towards the unconscious member of their team.

Twilight pats Four's shoulder and stands up from his position, his eyes darting around the forest they all now find themselves in. "We need to find our stuff," he says, "It shouldn't be far. They'll be more supplies for Warrior there."

Time nods, and regrets it instantly when his head pounds with the motion. He winces and brings his hand to his temple and rubs. "You can't go alone," he grinds out. Twilight gives him an unimpressed glare and before he can argue with Time about him being the one to go with him, he glances over to where Hyrule is still moping.

Understanding flashes in Twilight's eyes. Hyrule, after helping Twilight wake everyone up and drag the group to the surface, has fallen into some sort of depression and has been silent and still for way too long. A Hyrule that isn't bursting with life, kindness, and exaggerated movements hardly isn't Hyrule at all.

Time smiles in satisfaction when Twilight nods and walks over to where Hyrule sits, he taps Hyrule on the shoulder. "C'mon, you up for joining me?"

Hyrule stays silent, not acknowledging Twilight in the slightest. Sky moves forward and opens his mouth, as if he's about to offer to go in Hyrule's place, but one look from Time he seems to understand what Time and Twilight are trying to do.

When a few seconds pass and a reaction from Hyrule is still lacking, Twilight clicks his tongue and gently places his hand around Hyrule's bicep. Hyrule let's out a growl of frustration as Twilight slowly drags him to his feet. Hyrule lifts his face, cheeks red, and steadies his stance as Twilight wraps his arm around his shoulders and starts to guide him away.

"You can mope later," Twilight says, smiling, though his eyes betray worry, "for now, help me search the forest."

Hyrule simply nods and Time has to look away because he can't stand how expressionless the boy looks. Something is eating at Hyrule, and if it's left alone it will begin to eat at the rest of the group, and with Warrior as wounded as he is, with Wild gone rogue, with Legend MIA, bad moral is the last thing they need.

Instead of watching them go, Time leaves Hyrule in Twilight's capable hands so he can take care of the rest of their broken family.

"Whose hungry?"

#jin writes #fan fiction #linked universe #hero of the wild #fan fic #hero of time #hero of twilight #legend of zelda #hero of warriors #hero of legend #hero of the four sword #hero of the wind #hero of hyrule #hero of the sky #times gonna try to cook guys #four: if the concussion wont kill Warrior whatever you call this *food* surely will #time: its milk stew! delicious! #malon doesn't let him cook #when one is a hero ones taste buds are ultimately destroyed #wild is thr exception #though the new brian david gilbert vid suggests otherwise #somebody different!fic

[roses-and-lightnings]

Cake

Summary: Nishikage could never have guessed how Nosaka would make that day the happiest and most special of all.

Pairing: NishiYuu (Nishikage x Nosaka)

Word Count: 1655

A/N: Today (February 10th) is Seiya Nishikage’s birthday! Here’s my gift for him and for all of you. This story is also availabe in brazilian portuguese. Rated G for general audiences. 

Warnings: Fluffy, romance

P.S: This story takes place after episode 16 of Orion no Kokuin.

It was certainly a melancholic day. Nishikage was lying on his bed, holding the back of his head and covering his ears with his arms, waiting for time to pass by while feeling the warmth of the sun's rays coming through the bedroom window. Everything had been very quiet lately.

Since the new advisor to the Emperor of Tactics had been appointed, Nosaka spent his time with Ichihoshi, discussing new strategies, devising new plans and having meetings to talk about the opposing team's skills and how to overcome them, and the boy found himself alone in most these days. It was not a very easy feeling to deal with at first, after all it seemed that Nosaka was abandoning him to be with someone else, but Nishikage soon realized that it was not like that.

Nosaka would never forget him that easily. He was the Emperor's knight, after all. Just because he had gotten a new “squire”, it didn't mean he would put his most loyal companion aside. And most important of all, the strategist had been very happy since the international championship started, and Nishikage knew how much soccer had an important role in his life now. Much more than helping him to achieve his goals, the goalkeeper wanted his happiness at all costs and would fight to the end for it. There would be nothing to compare with the value of his smile when he played. If Ichihoshi was also part of that, then Nishikage would be forever grateful. There was no reason for anger or jealousy.

But still, he missed his friend. Especially on days like this. As there was never much to do, he had already hung out with several team members during the week, had already gone to the gym, trained, and now he was just bored. Maybe it would be a good idea to see how his partner was doing, after all.

Suddenly, a slight knock on the door caught his attention. Immediately, he recognized the voice that spoke right away:

- It's me. May I come in?

Nishikage quickly sat on the bed to properly welcome him.

- For sure.

Nosaka Yuuma gently opened the door, warming up his friend's chest as he entered with a smile, something significantly unusual. He carried a medium-sized white box, tied impeccably with a red ribbon, indicating that he had made it himself. In the other hand the redhead boy carried three balloons of different colors: blue, yellow, and another one white, the same colors as the team’s jacket.

The youngest one pulled the chair from the desk and sat near the goalkeeper. Strangely, he hadn't brought his tablet and was way too informal for the occasion. Nishikage wondered what it was all about, while watching him tie the balloons to the chair’s arm. Even if he did not understand, the presence of his admired emperor was very comforting.

- They’re nice, aren't they? - Nosaka's voice got his attention.

- Yes, very nice. - Nishikage replied.

- I tried to find some other colors, but those were all that I could find around here. I hope you like it, in any way.

- Nosaka-san, should I ask... what this is all about?

The redhead looked puzzled at his companion, and then gave him sort of a gracious laugh.

- You don’t know? -  The strategist asked.

- No.

- For real?

Negative. Nosaka kept the smile on his face as he handed him the gift.

- Happy birthday, Nishikage.

...

Before meeting Nosaka, Nishikage had never celebrated his birthday properly. Negligent parents and the fact that he spent most of his time away from home never provided such things. Upon entering the Ares education system, it was taught that birthday parties and other celebrations were nothing special. They were superfluous events and only suited for mediocre people. Gradually, he started to not care about his day. But there was Nosaka, giving him that cute little gift box and holding those balloons as if that date was the most important thing in the world.

There was no way he could describe how surprised Nishikage felt at that moment, taking the gift that his companion had extended to him, with his trembling hands. Putting it on his lap, he swallowed when his heart beating strongly, while staring at the beautiful red ribbon.

- N-nosaka-san...

Nosaka sighed.

- I must admit I was a little uneasy about it. I've never done anything like this before. - He looked at his friend. - I wondered you should be feeling lonely lately, and I thought I could...

He cleared his throat and restored his almost lost composure. At that point, Nishikage did not know what to do other than pay attention to every word coming out of his mouth.

- There are some things I want to say to you. Birthdays are important occasions, right? So it took me a while to plan this. Still, it's not like I have experience in the matter.

He was unexpectedly quiet, so the emperor continued.

- Nishikage.

- Yes?

He kept his gaze serious when saying the following words:

- It really is not like me to do and say such things, but I want you to know that... it is a privilege and a pleasure to be with you. I am grateful for all of your work, and your company is important to me. I offer you my congratulations and I wish your happiness today.

A broad smile took form on the older one's face. Happiness had flown throughout his body when he heard his emperor's kind words. This was, without a trace of doubt, one of the best days of his entire life, and one more time, all thanks to that person. Meanwhile, Nosaka felt as if a load had been lifted from his shoulders when he realized that he had managed to make him happy. He had already admitted being nervous, and the truth is that he would not have known what Nishikage's reaction would be to something so sudden. There were things that not even the great Emperor of Tactics could predict.

- Aren't you going to open it? – Nosaka broke the silence, taking them out of their trance, just looking into each other's eyes.

- Yes, of course! - He replied, awkwardly.

Nosaka watched as the goalkeeper carefully undid the bow and opened the box.

- Chocolate. It's your favorite, isn't it? - Although Seiya never told him that directly, Nosaka never missed any details. - I wanted something we could share, and I thought you would like it.

He did not answer.

- Nishikage?

Nishikage didn’t wish to be too emotional, but after opening that box, he could no longer fight the tears, which ran down his face. His eyes were shining brightly, and his face had taken on a slightly reddish tone, unsettling the redhead in front of him.

- What happened?

The youngest one got up from the chair and sat down next to Nishikage on the bed, trying to find out what was wrong. Nosaka was immediately very surprised to see that the phrase written in red syrup on top of the beautifully decorated with chocolate icing cake was "I love you", instead of "happy birthday".

He knew that asking Asuto and Ichihoshi to bake the cake had been a bad idea.

- N-n-nosaka-san ... - He stammered, incredulous.

It was the emperor's turn to blush. He partially covered his mouth with his fingers trying to look for a way to justify the mess. Meanwhile, Nishikage's heart was racing wildly, wondering if that was true, but without the courage to ask.

Although he did not accurately know the meaning of love, Nosaka dared to say:

- Well, that was not my intention, but there is no lie in those words.

Nishikage's grayish eyes turned to his emperor, not believing what he had just heard.

- It may not seem so, Nishikage, but do I care a lot about you.

Hesitantly, he put his hand over the older one's hand and took a deep breath, something he had never done before, manifesting that there was something very important to be said. He looked up seriously until he met Nishikage's eyes, and said:

- Even if I don’t unveil that... Nishikage, you are the most important person in my life. You were always by my side and changed my world like no one ever did before. If those words can tell you that, Nishikage, I do lov...

He was interrupted when the older one threw his arms around him, pulling his body close to his in a tight hug. The tears that had already dried up fully returned, now in the midst of sobs and the laughter that insisted on coming out, without knowing or caring if he should or was authorized to do so. Since he met him, Nosaka had never seen Nishikage so happy, and he had also never been hugged that way. And feeling that heat was a good and brand-new sensation. Something he could get used to from now on.

Getting carried away, Nosaka put his hands on Nishikage's back and hugged him back, allowing himself to close his eyes and enjoy the funny feeling of being in someone's arms. It didn't take long for the redhead to smile too.

When he was released, Nishikage wiped away his tears and admired once again the beautiful gift that his friend had given him. Nosaka looked at him cornerly, trying to understand the mixture of feelings that ran through his veins at that moment.

- Nosaka-san... Thank you so much! - And that was all he managed to say, in a kind smile.

The emperor put his hand on his knight's shoulder.

- I’m the one to thank you. Happy birthday!

In fact, Nishikage could never have guessed how Nosaka would make that day the happiest and most special of all.

(THIS STORY WILL CONTINUE ON APRIL 2ND, 2020!)

A/N: This is it! I hope you liked it! I’m proud to bring my first fanfiction to this blog. Thank you all, and happy birthday, Nishikage Seiya! 💞💕🎉✨🎂

Edit: I’d like to tag some of my friends and inspiration. @sn-u @misutorekun @krimkl @shawn-and-aiden-frost-9 and @peachesandglitter. Their lovely art, good work and support helped me a lot 💗 I would be honored to dedicate this fic to them. Thank you all a lot 🌺

#nishikage seiya #happy birthday #nosaka yuuma #nishiyuu #Inazuma Eleven #ina11 #inazuma eleven ares no tenbin #inazuma eleven orion no kokuin #inazuma eleven orion no kokuin episode 16 #inazuma eleven fanfiction #inazuma eleven fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #spirit #nishikage x nosaka #Asuto Inamori #Ichihoshi hikaru #Emperor of Tatics #inazuma fluff #fluffy #inazuma eleven shipps #inazuma eleven yaoi #yaoi #chocolate cake #birthday #nishikage seiya birthday

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

yuletide 2k19 recs

what does the zombie apocalypse mean for the democratic primary? (538 politics podcast)

Micah: Okay, they're not zombies.

Nate: They are too!

Micah: They're not dead! You can't be a zombie if you're not dead.

Nate: Let's not get bogged down in semantics. Anyway, the only good thing about it has been the twitter jokes. If you stop calling them zombies it's not funny.

Galen: Let's get through the intros before you guys start fighting about whether they're zombies or not. Also here with me in the studio, Managing Editor Micah Cohen. How are you?

reader, i SCREAMED. a series of transcripts of the 538 politics podcast, the absolute only thing keeping me sane for three years and counting, in the event of a zombie apocalypse, this fic is hilarious, sharp, and like, shockingly well-characterized, from clare telling micah not to worry that she's stuck in the midwest to nate silver reminding us all that the president's approval rating has been pretty steady his whole term to galen shutting down a spat about whether it's stupid to talk about how carpet-bombing the south is going to affect the democratic primary by butting in with a ziprecruiter ad. i... feel like the audience for this is small enough that if it's for you you've found your way there, but on the off-chance that's not true or you are just feeling very adventurous, run don't walk!

273 moments of silence (4'33")

He used to smile with his eyes more than his mouth.

Why the actual fuck would you use that font in work correspondence?

Pillows seem to hold lost scents longer than physics should allow.

i am wildly in love with the fact that "4'33" - John Cage (Song)" was a requested fandom and that MULTIPLE people wrote fics for it, several of which were pretty good! this one was my favorite - a weird prose poem with some truly lovely images and turns of phrase and a great control of tone that made it beautiful without veering into preciousness.

speak truth to knowledge by equivalence relation (tswift MV)

TAS04: Visual: Both sisters are sitting in chairs. The color variation on their garments is complex and appears planned. Cinderilla is standing. Her garments are far simpler and the color variation is haphazard: compare code patches?

TAS07: cannot independently compare visual to anything without visual itself.

TAS07: visual is embedded in file 29021-h?

TAS07: Sarah is unwilling to provide that or any other storybook to any unit currently without, for unspecified reasons related to Lucy.

this is... technically... fic for the taylor swift "ready for it" music video? but also it is just a marvelously weird, slightly creepy, linguistically intelligent, formally inventive science-fiction story about cyborgs learning with an assist from fairy tales, used to great contrasting effect.

til tomorrow's show (american vandal)

“If we had died in there,” he says, “your last words to me would have been ‘Oh fuck, ghosts are real. Ghosts are fucking real.’ You good with that?”

“It’s… not ideal.”

truly a holiday miracle: a PITCH-PERFECT story for AMERICAN VANDAL, the greatest television show of this or any decade, in which peter & sam deal with the post-cancellation blues by getting stoned with dylan maxwell and catching a tip to go hunt some ghosts. the voices are peeeerfect, with several notes that just killed me and at least one that legit made me scream out loud with delight. funny & sharp & sweet please go read this if you have watched this the most perfect art of all time.

how you celebrate (the goldfinch)

Theo clears his throat. “So... you flew three thousand miles for me to make you a cake?”

Boris laughs, big and unrestrained. It echoes down the hallway, a reverberation of Borises. “Yes. Yes! I flew three thousand miles so you would make me another cake that tastes like shit. No, you idiot. Fourteen was my best birthday because I spent it with you. I thought, this birthday? What do I want to do? What would make it good?” He points squarely at Theo, pokes him a few times in the ribcage. “Here I am."

basically everything you would want out of a goldfinch yuletide fic: solid, clean writing; great characterization & dialogue, with just enough moments of subtly devastating observation dropped in; sunnier than the source material but not by much. left me equal parts sad and smiling, which feels right!

talk of the town (into the spider-verse)

Okay, look — Miles and him have had their differences lately, especially since Miles started at Visions, but he knows his kid. There’s something about the jerky, excited way Miles moves that Jefferson will always recognize.

hugely sweet but never cloying bite-sized fic about jefferson figuring miles out. their relationship feels familiar and lived-in here, complete with A+ correct bodega ordering, and it managed to carry a real sense of completeness in a very short word count.

my portion of fire (the iliad)

She smiled up at him, his favorite sister Cassandra once more, and told him that his wife had sent her fine wool to help her practice her weaving. “Better to learn now,” she said, “than someday alone in a courtyard in Achaea.”

Because it was one of her good days, she stopped when he flinched. “Not while I live,” he promised.

“Yes,” she said.

i mean, aren't we all just crying about hektor of troy, the one good man with the one loving relationship in the iliad, every day of our lives? this fic brings the hector-appropriate pathos, along with nicely channeling what i think is the right amount of homeric rhythmic weirdness for a setting like this.

#i didn't do this on purpose but #the fandoms represented here taken together feel... very revealing of me as a person/media consumer #fic i like #american vandal #what the fuck was my spiderverse tag #spider mans #mcu #altho is that movie mcu? i feel like it's not... whatever #the goldfinch