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#it's just like a collection of misadventures

gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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Dick loves your plushie collection.

He doesn’t find it embarrassing in the slightest! If anything he finds it more offensive that you’d think it embarrassing having plushies as an adult. After he himself has a plush bunny dressed in his nightwing attire -escrima sticks and all- that he won at an arcade game a while back perched on the top of his bed back home.

He calls it dick jr and cuddles it when he has a rough night of crime fighting.

So he’s the last person to ever cast judgment on your plush collection.

If anything he lets his imagination run wild with them and takes full advantage of them. So if the instance came where you weren’t home, Dick would always send you photos and mini videos of him taking excellent care of a plush hare called Sir John Roderick Wellington the third by tucking him in bed at night, pretending to brush his teeth, etc

Or he’d make enact a photo shoot with a couple of them and send the results to you as your left asking where’d he manage to get all sorts of accessories for them…you’re still awaiting the answer to this day. Another thing he’d do with them is take them with him as company while he’s doing mundane chores in the apartment and act as though the plush is helping him.

You were quick to catch on that Dick having a hell of blast with it with how often he spammed your phone with a plethora of photos and videos that kept you up to date with the daily misadventures of your plushy. And yet you weren’t any better either as you kept them all in a album in your phone and are still wondering why your phone keeps informing you that you are running low on space…

Your favourite picture of your plushy was one where Dick had it tucked in bed, a picture of you on its lap, meanwhile Dick’s face could be seen peaking up from the bottom corner of the screen followed by the caption; ‘he misses you and can’t wait for you to come home and cuddle him. Oh and also me. :(

It’s became your Home Screen now and it was the best decision you’ve been made because it never failed to make you smile even on a bad day.

Jason loves it when you wear his clothes.

It’s free therapy for the man seeing you in his clothes and you can quote me on that.

He fucking loved coming home to see you do your own thing while looking all comfortable and relaxed in his shirts or hoodies doing so. For all Jason could ever want for you was for you to feel comfortable with him however you saw fit.

Also it gives him the more reason to stare at you shamelessly, well more than he did already, but you get the point. Jason is a simple man who’s not above letting it known how much he absolutely adores you.

So you wearing his clothes only added onto that adoration that he had for you. No one else could be more perfect in his eyes then you and he stands by that that statement.

‘You look perfect.’ -Jason

‘Jason, I’m wearing sweats and one of your shirts while eating pizza.’ -you

‘Yeah, perfect.’ -Jason

‘Doofus.’ -you, smiling.

Some days Jason would even go out of his way to leave his clothes on your side of the bed as a hint that he wants you to wear it for the day. Other days however he would be outright and blunt with the fact that he’d rather have you in his clothes than your own at this point.

‘Why are you wearing your clothes?’ - Jason

‘Because they’re my clothes and I feel bad wearing all of yours all the time.’ -you

‘Well I on the other hand don’t, take this shirt and go back into our bedroom and change.’ - Jason says as he takes off the shirt he was wearing and hands it to you, uncaring of the fact that he was shirtless in the living room.

‘You’re being dramatic Jason.’ - you as you take the warm shirt from his hands.

‘No I’m not, I just like you in my clothes a lot better than anything else.’ - Jason said, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘You’re getting jealous over clothes now?’ - you asked, raising a brow.

‘Yes.’ Jason responds instantly. ‘Now for the sake of my sanity go back and put my shirt on please.’

You kiss his cheek before leaving for the bedroom to change. ‘If you insist.’

‘I heavily insist chipmunk.’ - Jason says as he watched you walk away before following after to grab another shirt.

Jason loves it when you’re in his clothes. It’s his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.

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deliciousangelfestival · 4 months

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Curses from Ex-Boyfriend || Oneshot

Character: Artist!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Y/N navigates humorous breakups and manages an art gallery. A reunion with first love, Bucky, at an exhibition ignites a whimsical love story woven with unexpected enchantments.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Y/N sunk into the barstool, her eyes telling tales of another failed relationship. Yolanda, the supportive friend, encouraged Y/N to share the latest misadventure in her love life.

Y/N sighed, "Okay, get this. The first one, Mike, broke up with me because he claimed my choice of pizza toppings was a reflection of our incompatibility. Apparently, pineapple lovers and non-pineapple lovers are destined to fail."

"Then there was Mark," Y/N continued, a smirk playing on her lips. "He couldn't stand the fact that I had a more extensive collection of pokemon than he did. He said it was a sign of divergent life goals."

Yolanda raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Tell me more."

"James, number three," Y/N chuckled, "Simple, he doesn't like dog."

"Alex was next in line," Y/N continued her tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. "He called it quits because he believed my excessive use of emojis in texts was a clear indication of a lack of emotional depth. Can you imagine?"

Yolanda laughed, "You can't be serious! What about the fifth one?"

Y/N sighed again, "Oh, Tom. He said my insistence on arranging our bookshelf by color instead of genre was a deal-breaker. Apparently, a good relationship requires organized literature. Can you believe these reasons?"

"Bucky was the longest, wasn't he?" Yolanda mused, a smile playing on her lips.

Y/N nodded, "Yeah, high school sweethearts, you know? We were the classic emo couple, complete with matching black outfits and moody music playlists."

Curiosity flickered in Yolanda's eyes, "So, why did you guys break up?"

Y/N chuckled, "Dead serious. Bucky was deep into it. I remember one day, he used a spell to try and cancel a math quiz."

Y/N grinned, "Oh, maybe because I'm over with emo and I think because Bucky got into magic, like, real magic. He bought this ancient-looking spell book at a flea market."

Yolanda's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, "Magic? Seriously?"

Yolanda burst into laughter, "Wait, what? A spell to cancel a quiz?"

Y/N nodded, "Yeah, he was convinced he could influence the universe with his newfound magical prowess. The thing is, our math teacher did cancel a quiz that week, but I later found out it was because he had a stomachache."

Yolanda's laughter faded into a look of realization, "Wait, are you saying Bucky's spell worked, or was it just a coincidence?"

Y/N shrugged, "Who knows? But I guess that was the beginning of the end. Bucky's magic phase and my inability to take his magical ambitions seriously eventually led to our breakup."

Yolanda winked, still teasing, "Maybe he enchanted you with a love spell, and that's why your relationships have been so... uniquely challenging."

Y/N rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation, "Please, if Bucky had any magical influence, it would've been to summon more black eyeliner or something."

Yolanda joined in the laughter, realizing the absurdity of her own suggestion. "I guess you're right. Love spells and high school relationships don't really go hand in hand."

As they clinked their glasses together, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for Yolanda's light-hearted humor.

Y/N groaned as she woke up with a slight headache, the remnants of the drinks from the previous night's escapade still lingering. Despite the throbbing in her head, she dragged herself to work at the prestigious art gallery where she served as the manager.

As Y/N settled into her office, her boss, the eccentric Madam Madeline, swept in with her fur jacket and oversized glasses, an aura of sophistication surrounding her. Madeline, always on the lookout for the next big thing, had an uncanny talent for discovering hidden gems in the art world.

With an air of excitement, Madeline announced, "Y/N, darling, I've found the next big artist during my travels around Europe. A true visionary! Prepare yourself; this is going to be huge for the gallery."

Y/N, still nursing her headache, tried to focus on Madeline's words. "Really? That's fantastic news. Who is this artist?"

Madeline beamed, "Oh, you'll see soon enough. I've arranged for the gallery to showcase their artwork. We need to get everything ready for the grand reveal. This could be a game-changer for us, my dear."

Despite the pounding in her head, Y/N felt a surge of adrenaline at the prospect of introducing a groundbreaking artist to the gallery's patrons. With a nod and a determined smile, she assured Madeline, "Consider it done. I'll make sure everything is prepared for the big showcase. This artist is going to leave a mark on the art world, and our gallery will be at the forefront."

As Madeline left the room, Y/N rubbed her temples, contemplating the exciting challenge ahead.

The day of the grand art exhibition arrived, and the gallery buzzed with anticipation. Y/N couldn't help but be excited about unveiling the mysterious artist's work. The moment Madam Madeline revealed the artwork, gasps of awe echoed through the gallery.

The paintings were truly impressive, capturing the essence of emotion and movement in each stroke. Yet, as Y/N studied the intricate lines, a sense of familiarity tugged at her. It was only when Madeline dramatically unveiled the artist's identity that Y/N's surprise reached its peak.

"Bucky?" Y/N muttered under her breath, disbelief washing over her. She couldn't reconcile the image of the once-emo high school boyfriend with the sophisticated artist standing before her.

Without the signature eyeliner and long hair covering half his face, Bucky had transformed into an entirely different person.

Madeline, reveling in the dramatic revelation, announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, the brilliant artist behind these captivating pieces is none other than Bucky!"

Y/N's eyes widened as Bucky approached her with a confident smile. "Hey, Y/N. Long time no see."

It took a moment for Y/N to process the situation. "Bucky? The Bucky from high school?"

He nodded, "The one and only. Surprised?"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh nervously, "More than you can imagine. I didn't know you had this side to you."

Bucky chuckled, "Life is full of surprises. Just like art."

As the reality of the situation sank in, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected twist of fate.

Intrigued by the transformation in Bucky's life, Y/N couldn't help but ask, "Bucky, where have you been all these years?"

Bucky grinned, a twinkle in his eyes, "After high school, I decided to pursue art more seriously. I entered art school, but it turned out the formal education wasn't for me. So, I packed my bags and hit the road, traveling around the country to draw inspiration from different landscapes and cultures."

Y/N listened, captivated by the adventurous turn in Bucky's journey. "And then?" she prompted.

Bucky continued, "I found myself in Europe, sketching the beautiful landscapes and immersing myself in the art scene. That's where I crossed paths with Madeline. She saw something in my work, and the next thing I knew, I'm back home."

Y/N couldn't hide her amazement. "That's incredible, Bucky. I had no idea you were out there making a name for yourself in the art world."

Bucky smiled modestly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and gratitude. "Yeah, life has a way of surprising you," he remarked. "Art became my language, and every stroke on the canvas felt like a piece of my soul. Little did I know it would lead me here."

As Y/N continued to admire Bucky's work, a comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the soft background hum of the art gallery. The familiarity of their shared past mingled with the newfound understanding of the paths they had taken.

Bucky broke the silence, "You know, Y/N, seeing you again brings back a flood of memories. The art, the laughter, the quirky moments—some things never change."

Y/N smiled, "Indeed, some things don't. Life has a funny way of circling back, doesn't it?"

As Madeline enthusiastically dragged Bucky away to meet other attendees, Y/N found herself momentarily alone, surrounded by the captivating artwork.

Observing Bucky engage with the crowd, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for the once-emo high school boyfriend who had evolved into a renowned artist. The whimsical nature of their teenage years seemed worlds apart from the sophisticated individual now navigating the art world.

Y/N strolled through the gallery, and she noticed a subtle but significant detail in each painting – a delicately drawn flower nestled somewhere within the vibrant strokes. The realization struck her like a soft breeze, and she couldn't help but smile. It was her favorite flower, a subtle signature Bucky had left in each masterpiece.

Bucky, engrossed in conversation with other attendees, glanced in Y/N's direction. Their eyes met, and in that fleeting moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them. Y/N felt a warmth spreading within her, realizing that the flowers in Bucky's art were more than just a visual motif.

The language of art spoke louder than words, and Y/N interpreted the message within those flowers in the quiet exchange of glances. It was a silent acknowledgment, a whispered confession that transcended the boundaries of time and distance. Bucky's subtle gesture conveyed, "I still think of you."

As the art gallery hummed with admiration for Bucky's creations, Y/N couldn't help but feel a connection rekindling.

After the event, the air crackled with anticipation as Y/N mustered the courage to approach Bucky. "Bucky, would you mind grabbing a coffee with me? It's been so long, and I'd really like to catch up," she said, her heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.

Bucky, meeting her gaze with a warm smile, replied, "Absolutely, Y/N. I'd love that."

As they sat in the dimly lit cafe, the atmosphere seemed to thicken with unspoken emotions. Conversations veered into shared memories and life's twists and turns. Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that, perhaps, this was a crucial moment—a juncture where destiny hung in the balance.

Later, in the intimacy of Bucky's hotel room, he opened an old sketchbook. Pages turned with a whisper, revealing an old photo of Y/N. Intriguingly, on the adjacent page, a spell was inscribed—an enchantment woven into the fabric of their shared history. The room seemed to pulse with an energy that felt both familiar and intense.

Bucky's chuckle was dark and enigmatic as he muttered, "Damn, it works."

The revelation left Y/N completely unaware. Little did she know that the seemingly whimsical magic from their teenage years had woven a thread connecting their souls, guiding them back to each other after years of divergent paths. As they continued to share laughter and stories, the magic of the past lingered in the air, creating a subtle but powerful force that bound them together.

Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

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stoned-rat · 1 year

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The new steam version of dwarf fortress is amazing and I fucking love seeing how many people are enjoying these silly little guys and their misadventures. So here is a random collection of things I love about dwarf fortress, it's community, and it's history. (Plus some personal anecdotes)

-That one time fish became one of the games greatest threats

-That one mod that brings deadly carps back

-Training dwarven children with "danger rooms" filled with wooden spikes

-New training mechanics being added to prevent players from throwing all their children into spike pits

-When players posted their best mermaid genocide blueprints, and the creators had to patch the game AGAIN to stop their players from commiting outrageous war crimes

-bOATS and the lack there of

-The game is under halfway done according to it's creators. The game has been in development for 20 years.

-not only do you have gay, asexual, and bisexual dwarves, but animals too. Wondering why you arent getting any chicks? Sorry, your rooster likes cock.

-That one time I wasn't thinking and built a baracks next to a waterfall and my military kept throwing themselves to their deaths

-No race is actually "evil." Goblins and animal people can even join your fort and become valuable citizens.

-Elves are cannibals.

-The game being considered notoriously hard, but actually having extremely customizable difficulty settings. You will just get bored of everything going well.

-That one mod in the steam workshop that changes all the models to have giant tits

-The way dwarves will just refuse to do what you want them too

-Forts falling to their knees because cats kept adopting dwarves and having kittens until the game won't load anymore.

-The fact there are canonically no boats, but dwarves will continue to migrate to your haunted glacier year after year.

-When rain causes PTSD

-Guiding nobles under a bridge so you can lower it and they are literally crushed out of existence

-pangolins are invincible, and your hunters will pass out from exhaustion before killing one.

-The steam version coming out with a glitch that causes archers to not pick up crossbow bolts, but instead bash their enemies to death with their crossbows.

-Anyone's first attempt at redirecting a brook

-The game will always be available for free. The ASCII version will stay available for free download on Bay12, and will continue to be developed alongside the steam version. The premium/steam version was introduced to help the creators afford medical costs and thousands of people came out to buy a game that has been free for nearly two decades, and always will be.

-When asked what plans the creators had now that they were millionaires, they both said they had been more focused on the dwarves than the money and don't even know what they will do with all of it, beyond take care of themselves and keep working on the dwarves.

#dwarf fortress

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darrowsrising · 9 months

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Alternative titles for Light Bringer:

Darrow O'Lykos and, yet again, the audacity of this Pixie Bitch.

The Misadventures of the Wayward Chin.

The Reaper of Mars and his himbo collection.

You can take the boy out of the pyramid, but you cannot stop him from becoming a fucking tyrant.

Martian Cookbook: The Reaper Reveals How To Best Kill Annoying Enemies (may contain honey, berserkers and new butchering techniques).

All Quiet on the Martian Front: Virginia Augustus has a Crown.

Hell hath no fury like Victra Julii-Barca.

The Odyssey where they gave Darrow a self-help book, because therapy would have made him overpowered.

Reading for filth: 10 ways you can send your annoying allies into a downward spiral by just telling them the truth in a mean way.

The Archimedes Beginer's Guide: the braincell supply is always scarce.

Don't Drink and Tell Secrets.

How much character growth can a 7 feet tall man even handle?

Lysander au Lune: from bitch to puppet to genocidal maniac.

How to deal with Depression and Hypocrisy by Sevro Barca, Goblin of Mars.

Diomedes au Raa and the Very Bad, Not Good, Fucking Stupid Days.

Atlas au Raa: Fall Skin Collection.

En Vogue: If he cannot be the narrative's favourite, he'll be the most hated.

Darrow O'Lykos: Augustan Traditions Must Live On.

The Spy That Booped My Nose.

Local Lesbian Saves Obsidian Princess.

Reaper Caused Blood on Dancefloor. Again.

#please add if you want #red rising #light bringer #light bringer spoilers

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jocelynhealy · 3 months

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Did someone say more Kombat Kids? No? Too bad!

Kenshi and Takeda make the same “tch” sound when they are annoyed.

Cassie has been kicked out of multiple bars for punching dudes in the face when they won’t leave her/other girls alone. Like father, like daughter.

Cassie runs a TikTok account where she cronicals the random misadventures of the SF squad.

Most of the technology at the Shirai Ryu was pretty dated growing up, with entertainment mostly consisting of old VHS tapes and a few dvds, so Takeda mostly grew up on 80’s and 90’s media. His favorites were Crocodile Dundee and The Golden Girls.

Jin has a collection of souvenirs he’s gathered from every mission. These range from cool looking rocks, dropped weapons, or even small bits of uniforms from fallen foes. He can recount the stories related to each and every one of them and delights in doing so if someone asks.

Everyone agrees that Jacqui is the most terrifying member of the team because she does not need some kind of special power passed down from some mystical ancestor to beat the crap out of someone. She has fists for that.

Frost suffers from frequent nightmares and when they get particularly bad the only thing that can lull her back to sleep is a very specific recipe for hot chocolate Kuai Liang makes.

Takeda has an irrational fear of those antique porcelain dolls so naturally when Jin found this out it became his life’s mission to lock him in a room full of them.

Cassie once made the mistake of admitting that she had really wanted a brother growing up and Takeda and Jin spent the rest of the day annoying the shit out of her to “show her what she missed out on”.

Sonya once tried to enforce a swear jar to encourage professionalism amongst the team but that ended when Frost and Jin put $50 in the jar each and just started yelling “fuck” at the top of their lungs repeatedly for an hour.

No one encourages the chaotic nature of the kids more than Kung Lao. Watching them give everyone else a hard time brings him a sort of joy that he can enjoy only describe as “payback”.

Kung Lao is the one that made the engagement ring Takeda gave to Jacqui. It is one of his proudest works and keeping the whole thing secret was difficult because Jin kept trying to butt his nose in trying to figure out why his best friend was suddenly spending a lot of time talking with his uncle.

A lot of the grunts working for the SF have a distrust of Takeda due to his status as an outsider and a Shirai Ryu, some even thinking he’s just there to spy on them for the clan. No one voices these complaints though because the last guy that did got the snot beat out of him by Jacqui. Same thing with the person who said Cassie only got her position because of her mother. Now everyone keeps their mouths shut and stay far, far away from the specialist.

Both Frost and Takeda are completely incapable of sitting in a chair normally. Takeda always perches on the arm or on the back of a sofa or bench, while Frost is always sitting sideways, leaning back against the arms.

Jin first thought that most of the team only ever tolerated his presence which caused him to act out, further alienating him from them. Frost of course saw right through him and called him out on it privately. Since then he’s been getting better at recognizing that the others actually do really want him there and enjoy his company, but sometimes the insecurities rise back up.

Hanzo found out Jacqui was dating his Chujin by visiting him at the SF base one morning, and was about to knock on his door only for it to open revealing Jacqui, who had very clearly spent the night, dressed in one of Takeda’s shirts, about to leave. That was a very, very awkward morning and a very embarrassing conversation that they do not speak of.

#mortal kombat #mk10 #mkx #mk11 #kombat kids #frost mk #cassie cage #takeda takahashi #jacqui briggs #kung jin

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thankskenpenders · 6 months

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How do you feel on the whole Misadventures arc of IDW? You touched upon it briefly, but I'm still curious. I myself found it frustrating since I despise "everyone trusts the newbie first" plotlines, and TBH "Silver and Whisper just stake out Duo and then attack him once confronted" felt like a frustratingly stupid way to resolve things. The pacing of the four issues, with how it felt like little happened, honestly made it feel like a collection of stories meant for an Annual that never came out.

I disagree. For one, I've found the pacing really refreshing. Even though this is a "breather" arc after all the stuff with Surge and Kit and the Eggperial City, it feels like we've had a lot of meaningful developments for the supporting cast in a short amount of time. Instead of spending 4+ months exclusively on one idea and one set of characters, we're hopping all around and getting these shorter stories from a wider variety of characters. But they all feel connected, primarily due to the background plot of Clutch and Mimic trying to undermine the Restoration. It feels like a whole lot of pieces are being moved into place for whatever's in store, whether it's getting Knuckles off of Angel Island more, having Silver and Blaze finally become a team, or establishing new threats for the Restoration.

And, yes, I'm even here for the silly backup story about Rough and Tumble messing up Cream's house. That stuff's fun! I've never been a person who thinks that everything has to be plot, plot, plot all the time. I love heavily episodic series. I like seeing what happens when you mash together random characters who haven't interacted before.

I kind of see why this might feel like the sort of material that's usually saved for the Annuals, but his was the norm during the Archie days. We didn't have Annuals, we'd just have backup stories about the supporting cast, or one-off issues that weren't necessarily part of a four-issue arc. That's something people have been interested in seeing from IDW from the very start, and folks like me were excited to see them finally give it a shot.

As for the stuff with Mimic/Duo: that's actually been my favorite part of all of this. I think it's made for some extremely juicy drama. Yes, it's a story about a suspicious new character showing up and people immediately trusting him, but, like... forget about the trope for a second and step back. This is just how the Restoration works. They aren't an exclusive club, they're a humanitarian volunteer group that's constantly welcoming in any help they can get. Every new character who decides to join the Restoration has immediately been welcomed in. The HQ is constantly full of randos. Amy put Jewel in charge of the whole operation after one conversation. Lanolin in particular has barely known Tangle, Whisper, or Silver any longer than she's known "Duo." She went on literally one mission with Tangle and Whisper before all this. The villains are observing the way the heroes work and taking advantage of it.

I also disagree with the claim that Whisper and Silver were being stupid in trying to confront Mimic. Well, okay, they kind of were being stupid, but it feels completely in character for them. Silver's always been a little too eager to act without thinking first. This is one of his defining character traits going back to '06. The irony here is that for once he was RIGHT, but the villain he accused of being a villain made him think it was just another case of Silver starting a fight for no good reason. And Whisper's acting rash because she ALWAYS acts rash when Mimic is involved. Any time Mimic has been a threat, Whisper has decided to go all lone wolf out of a fear that Mimic will kill Tangle like he killed the old Diamond Cutters. It's a constant struggle for her due to how deep that trauma is. It was the whole premise of the Tangle and Whisper miniseries!

But really, I just think it's so deliciously evil for Mimic to be playing the Restoration like this for so long. To me, it'd be a crime NOT to do something like this with Mimic. It's such a perfect use of his nature as a deceitful master of disguise. Whisper IMMEDIATELY figuring him out, only for Mimic to pit Whisper's allies against her, gaslighting her into trusting him and thinking that she fucked up? That's great! Well, I mean, it's terrible for her, but I'm here for the drama.

This is all a ticking time bomb that's going to impact so many characters when it goes off, and I can't wait to see how that plays out. How much damage will Mimic and Clutch be able to do to the Restoration as an organization? How will Lanolin react upon realizing her grave mistake? How will Whisper, a character who already has massive trust issues, respond to having some of her worst fears come true? She already left Restoration HQ once out of a fear that Mimic would target her friends, and then almost immediately after coming back THIS happens? How will Tangle respond to being caught in the middle of all this? And now Surge and Kit are apparently getting thrown into the mix as unexpected wild cards next issue??? This is the kind of drama I really eat up with these characters!

(If I have ONE small nitpick, though... it's that I initially misread the issue with the confrontation, and thought that Mimic really did break his own arm in his fight with Silver to help maintain his cover. I was like, holy shit! That's messed up! Mimic's messed up! But then I realized he was faking his injury. I kinda like my initial read better, but it's, you know. A kid's comic. That probably would have been a bridge too far lmao)

#overlordofcute #ask #tkp asks

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maxislvt · 1 year

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I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa

Summary: You'd do anything to give your boys a good Christmas

Warning: None

A/N: my awful humor plagues the narrative another day

Event Masterlist

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

For many people, two kids during Christmas was a financial death sentence. For the Maximoff family, it was usually just a hospital bill if you were lucky. Christmas was like a whimsical curse on you and your family. Fun times and at least one scrapbook-worthy injury in the family.

When you and Wanda first started dating, they were small things. Pietro ran face-first into the world's sharpest wreath and needed stitches. Then, Wanda had broken her wrist after getting locked in her family shed. Finally, the Christmas before you two got married, you got a nosebleed from being hit in the face with a vodka bottle.

When the twins were born, it seemed the curse had disappeared. Maybe someone would get the flu or a small cold, but you were blessed with peaceful Christmases for quite some time. Unfortunately, that beautiful streak was about to break. You could just feel it. As your children grew older, they became more reckless. Well, it was mostly Tommy and his hectic super speed, but even Billy started to have random bursts of magical powers.

"Wanda, I'm worried about the curse," You said, staring up at the ceiling. Sleep was the last thing on your mind as you were plagued with visions of every accident that happened. All the tiny bruises you, your wife, and her brother had collected over the years. The mark on Pietro's forehead is barely hidden by the fluff of his bangs, the slash on your eyebrow, and the lighting strike across your girlfriend's lips. "I mean, I know the boys think ours are cool, but I would like for my kids to not look like a gently tossed sack of partially peeled potatoes.

Wanda snickered and rolled over to face you. "And what makes you say that?" Her hand cupped your face and gently ran her thumb over your eyebrow. "Also, they're not gonna look like potatoes. Even if they do, they're kids, they get all kinds of crazy scars and misadventures." Despite being a witch, your wife wasn't nearly as superstitious as you were. Not that she didn't believe in bloodline curses, just didn't believe you or she had one.

You sighed and wiggled closer to your wife. "I know, but I just don't want them to get hurt. The hospital staff knows us by our first name now, and that's not a good look for any of us." Wanda normally supported your ramblings and crazy idea, but you could never get her to take your side on that argument. "I mean with Billy's magic and Tommy running around at the speed of everything, something is bound to go wrong!"

Wanda pulled you in for a kiss. "Baby, the people at the hospital know you by your first name because you're an Avenger and the boys will learn to control their powers soon enough. Just relax, okay?"

You sighed and pulled Wanda into your chest. "Fine, but if someone ends up in the hospital, it's on you."

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

"Pietro, this is the worst idea I have ever heard in my entire life."

The Santa suit, fake beard, and big red bag laid out a recipe for disaster. Pietro's plan was exactly what your anxiety-ridden heart didn't need. One of you was to dress up as the big red man and jump down the chimney to give the kids the best Christmas memory ever.

"Isn't this exactly how Tony broke his leg trying to make Morgan happy? I love the boys, but I'm not exactly looking forward to another medical bill." You used your foot to gently kick at the huge bag one of you was supposed to bring down a chimney. "Also, there's no way this thing is gonna fit down my chimney. You could barely drag this thing into the room."

Pietro shrugged. "Yes, it is how he broke his leg, but he isn't as cool as either of us. This plan is foolproof!" Many people struggled to comprehend how twins could be so different. Wanda was tense and forever cautious. Pietro was nothing short of impulsive and thoughtless. "Think of the kids! They'll be so happy."

Eventually, you conceded. "Fine, but if I have to go down that chimney, you're dressing up like an elf!" You begrudgingly snatched the suit and beard from your brother-in-law and made your way to the bathroom. "Also, you forced me into this if Wanda gets mad!" Though you were an adult with your autonomy, your wife had the final say in most things. If she wanted a winter break with no powers, you'd follow that command to a T. Unless Pietro had hyped you up into doing otherwise. "I look…ridiculous."

Pietro opened the bathroom door to reveal his half of the costume. Pointed ears, green and white striped hat, and the dumb elf outfit you'd ever had the pleasure of seeing. "We look great, now grab the bag and let's toss you up on that roof!" Before you could argue, he picked you up and sped straight up the side of the house. "Okay, I'm gonna go wake up Billy and Tommy, you just wait here, and in about a minute just jump down and be all jolly! Got it? Good!"

You nodded, but Pietro had already left. For the sake of a happy wife, excited children, and safe Christmas, you decided not to think about how scary it was to be alone on top of a snowy roof. Refusing to believe it'd take a minute to get both of your beloved sons out of bed, you simply jumped down the chimney without much thought. Unfortunately, the sack was much too big and you had to let go. That had only gotten you about an extra three inches down the opening before being officially stuck. "Fuck!" Was all you could shout before desperately kicking your feet back and forth.

Pietro sped back up the roof and pulled the sack out of the chimney. He peered down the shaft and his jaw nearly dropped. "Dude, are you stuck?"

"No, I decided to get comfy in the chimney just to try it out. Yes, I'm fucking stuck! Go call my wife!"

After an interesting game of magical Twister and one broken chimney, you were freed from the confines of your brick prison and taken to the hospital. There was no time for you to change so you were sent in an ambulance, big beard and all. Fortunately, your wife was more so endeared by your commitment than horrified by the situation.

"So, is there a Mrs.Claus?" Wanda asked smoothly as she snuggled up in your hospital bed. She laughed as you groaned out in embarrassment. "Come on, I thought that was really cute!"

"You're only saying that because you're not hopped up on six different pain meds and don't have stitches." You grumbled but leaned against your wife to get some comfort. Her warm body eased the blistering cold that mercilessly attacked your wounds. "I told you we were cursed, but nooo!"

Wanda giggled and peppered kisses all over your face. "I think it's less of us being cursed and more of my brother having bad ideas." She wrapped you up in her arms and smiled. "Now rest up. The faster we get out of here, the faster we can get home to the boys. "

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda imagine #wanda fluff #panther's 12 days of christmas

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ravenelyx · 2 months

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I Love You In Every Timeline - Sebastian Sallow

The Repertoire Of Memory is Worn

Fic masterlist

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name appearance for the reader

Themes: angst, temporarily unrequited love, pining, some form of transference¹, developing relationship, slow burn, explicit (eventually)

Summary: "He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him. She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe." In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: The last edited chapter before we get to the real new stuff, right after ONE YEAR OF ILYET! Happy brithday to this fic!!

AO3 - Wattpad

Perhaps Sebastian should have given the Gryffindor Prefects less credit after all. He should take back the bonus sapphires he had reluctantly given to the red gryphon for his "hospitality."

Because at that moment, it felt like anything but.

He remembered the look Hermione had given you when you were about to tell him your secret. Maybe a deep and dark one, the kind of secret that can only be shared through hushed whispers and damp breaths. The kind of secret that you’d only disclose to a trusted person.

Or, well, perhaps that was too far-fetched.

In any case, your tone of voice and the look in your eyes clearly showed that whatever you wished to disclose to him wasn't something you would have told Umbridge — or any other less preposterous teacher. And he wasn’t worthy either, apparently.

Sebastian wasn't looking for validation, nor was he fishing for pity; but maybe he did wish to be seen.

All things considered, no one in his new circle of friends — which looked more like a segment and a dot, given he didn't yet know where he stood with you — knew of his his deep and dark secret: his misadventure, nor of the reason he occasionally tugged at his sleeves when the cardigan itched at his wrists.

Sebastian didn’t know what to make of that burning longing sliding up and down his throat.

He wanted to tell Daphne.

He wanted to tell you.

He wanted to tell everyone.

Hell, he'd have even told Draco Malfoy if it meant that at least someone would acknowledge his standing, no matter how asinine and annoying their comments might be.

"...unless it's absolutely necessary," he recalled, echoing in his mind like an eerie consciousness. But where was it that he could draw the line between necessary and extremely-and-idiotically-self-indulgent?

It had been, reluctantly, two weeks since the Artefact had brought him there. Two weeks in which he hadn't seen Ominis or Anne — not that they wanted him around anyway. Two weeks without hearing her voice. Two weeks since he’d basked in a short wave of comfort that almost bordered friendship with you that day. Two weeks in which you hadn't visited the Undercroft, not even once.

Sebastian was there all the time, much to his dismay. If he sat there long enough, he could almost pretend nothing had really changed. He could almost trick himself into waiting for her to walk in and practise Confringo with him. He could almost hear Ominis and Anne's laughter as the Gobstones splashed him with their juice.

Almost.

Sebastian wanted to ask you to practise some spells with him there. Maybe, just maybe, if you placed your body at a certain angle and shrugged off your Gryffindor robes, he could have seen her.

But your hair was shorter. Just a little.

He had noticed it the day before when you'd turned around to collect your potion ingredients, and it had been eating at him ever since. Stupid, really, because your hair should have been the last, meaningless point on his list of discrepancies between you two.

As demonstrated by your escapade in the Library, it was quite obvious that, aside from some physical features and your last name, you two were like chalk and cheese. He recalled it all with tears prickling the corners of his eyes, because as much as he wished he could mould and fix and shape, he couldn’t. It was a mismatched proposition he was being lured into like a lake of sirens; showing him exactly what he wanted, before the real trick came out.

He wasn’t the guide.

"I can be sneaky, let's go," she had said, naively.

"Hold on, now," he had answered her with a small, knowing smile.

"Is it always this easy to sneak in?" he heard his voice say again.

"The Library is closed at this hour, so no. It's not."

He wasn’t the protector.

"You said the librarian would be gone by now!"

"I said usually!"

"It's five to eight. That means we have twenty minutes, at max, before Madam Pince returns," and he had nodded in understanding.

He was nothing he used to be and everything he loathed the most. Just as he had been that day in the Catacombs.

Sebastian took a loud, deep breath that sounded more like a choked gasp.

Everything felt wrong. Everything was wrong. It felt like the Universe (or that damn Supreme Being that had been toying with him since he arrived in this world) had swapped your places. And the more he looked at you, the less he saw her.

And that scared him, because if one thing was true about Sebastian Sallow, it was that he was a selfish, heedless bastard when it came to matters of the heart, and if the only way to have her back by his side was to love her vicariously through you, he wasn't going to budge.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #harry potter #wizarding world #harry potter fandom #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts legacy x reader #hermione granger #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #ginny weasley

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 10 months

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𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑳 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵 ║ Chapter 7 - Your Need Grows Teeth

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 6.3k | CHAPTER WARNINGS: discussions and depictions of human slave trade practices, medical/physical gore, sensitive material banner portions | CHAPTER SUMMARY: You grow tired of letting your past dictate your present and future. Joel said anything you need from him is yours to take, and you plan to take him up on that when you ask for his help to rectify one of the more gruesome aspects of your past.

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

Please read with caution if you have difficulties with works concerning: SA, physical violence, torture, captivity, trauma, and similar topics as they are discussed throughout the series. All highly sensitive portions WILL BE MARKED with my sensitive material banner if you wish to skip the more challenging portions. The sensitive material banner looks like this:

✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧ “𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐; 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑.” ―Mᴀʀɢᴀʀᴇᴛ Aᴛᴡᴏᴏᴅ ✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧

You had never seen Susan anything remotely akin to mad. She was the kindest, softest woman you had ever met, and it was hard to imagine that she’d ever been angry a day in her life. Until now. Maybe angry was too strong of a word, but she was very displeased. Joel, as always, took the brunt of the work covering for your embarrassing mishaps and breakdowns, and your sprain was no different.

After you had catapulted yourself onto the floor that day, Joel held you by his side, silently running soothing circles over your arm, letting you sink into his side and rest, and even once resting his lips against the top of your forehead. You’d leaned into it, still drowsy, but conscious enough to know you wanted more. He didn’t press a kiss to your head like you’d hoped he would.

He gauged your mood and demeanor, never relenting his hold until he was certain you were okay. He walked you home once you’d had some time to collect yourself enough to interact with Susan. The retelling of your fictional misadventure had a bit of she was standing on the chair in the kitchen, a touch of couldn’t reach that high up into the cabinets, and finesse of misjudged her footing and fell backwards to the floor.

Joel was shrewd enough to act appropriately contrite at not having kept a closer eye on you during this fabricated incident. Susan’s version of cussing somebody out and slamming fists on the table was a very disappointed look paired with crossed arms, which she had leveled directly at Joel while he recounted the story.

“I know I shoulda just got it myself, Susan. Too far up in the cabinet and all for her to reach. But she’s tryin’ta be more independent, and I didn’t wanna discourage that,” Joel explained. Susan sighed at this but seemed to find it an acceptable line of reasoning for why her precious, precious Bug had been returned to her in such a state.

“It was my fault, Susan. Really. I-I was impatient. I didn’t even think to ask someone else to grab it. Really. And Joel was-was right there, right after it happened. Got my wrist iced and gave me medicine,” you add in a rush. You feel terrible that Joel was shouldering all the blame for this when he was the only reason you hadn’t devolved into even more of a mess in the first place.

“Well, I do appreciate that, Joel. I do. I just hate seeing my Bug hurt,” she said firmly.“I understand, Susan.” He added a solemn nod to convey his remorse.

With that, Susan seemed to let go of her irritation with Joel’s perceived shortcomings and wrote down all of his care instructions.

After a week, the swelling had gone down almost entirely, and movement didn’t instantly result in piercing pain. Your range of motion was still limited, however, and you weren’t much use with your left hand playing dominant. When you’d last seen Joel, he gave a rough estimate of another week and a half before it’d finish healing completely. You were just relieved you didn’t have to go to the clinic and try to look Courtney or Dr. Adderman in the eye. You cringe at the memory of yourself interacting with them when you first arrived. You had only seen them around town here and there since that fateful day, never working up the courage to approach them and make a better impression for yourself.

Joel hadn’t looked your injury over yet today. You yearned for his gentle touches he rendered whenever he assessed your sprain. But you would just have to be patient and try to enjoy the conversation around the dining room table where you, Susan, and Joel were all sat. Joel was filling Susan in on how Ellie’s schooling is going and how baby Gwen was fairing.

You could watch him talk until his voice gave out. His reserved smiles, the sarcastic noises, his deep voice that was now a comforting lull to your ears - so far from how you’d felt about it the first time you’d met. So much of how you felt about him had changed since that first chaotic interaction. Every time you have to say goodbye, your heart wilts and laments for him to come back, come closer, be still with you, stay with you.

You were something in the vein of level-headed and calm whenever he was by your side. He had seen you at numerous low points and hadn’t just turned, walked away, and never looked back. You aren’t sure what you’d done to deserve having someone like him in your corner, but there wasn’t a day that passed where you didn’t consider your immense gratitude for him.

You tried very hard to appreciate what you had and not succumb to the urge for more, but the tug of it was constant. It was greedy. You’d fed it - this gluttonous, insatiable piece of you - a crumb, a pinch of attention and care from Joel, and each time it only demanded more. More more more. More time with Joel. More words with Joel. More touches of him. More closeness. More sharing. More togetherness. All of it. More.

You blink a few times before realizing you are openly ogling him from across the table. He’s caught your eye, and his soft, content smirk makes your cheeks flush. Instead of the familiar heat of embarrassment or shame, it felt like a giddy warmth. A comforting thing. You return a timid smile and drop your gaze with a little laugh.

“What’s funny, Bug? You know the story about Tommy changing Gwen’s diaper?” Susan asks, joining your laughter with jovial comradery over the story Joel must have been telling while you were busy gawking at him.

“Oh, um. Yeah, it’s-it’s a good one,” you chuckle. You hope Susan hadn’t caught you staring at Joel.

“Oh, before Joel starts again, would you mind grabbing that container over there for me?” Susan pointed towards a low shelf behind you. “It’s not too heavy. Shouldn’t be too hard to hold with your other hand.”

She turned towards Joel again but whipped her head around to double check the height of the shelf hadn’t magically increased before you had to retrieve an item from it. Satisfied with its accessible height to you, she turned back to her teacup and Joel’s story.

“Yeah, no problem,” you answer.

You stood and combed through the shelf, grabbing the bright green container she had requested.

“There ya go,” you say quietly, offering it to Susan. Joel had continued his story, and you didn’t want to interrupt. You glanced over when his voice faltered for a moment and found him distracted from his narration, examining your hand and wrist as it dangled next to him.

It was rather entertaining to you that he would scrutinize Susan’s work. In all fairness to her, she had done everything Joel had recommended and made no complaints about it whatsoever. You thought she actually enjoyed mollycoddling you like you were a child.

Susan scrunched her nose and grinned in a gesture of thanks as you passed the container to her. “Thanks, Bug. You’re such a doll,” she whispers, not wanting to rudely interrupt Joel’s story either.

Susan’s warm smile flashed before she looked down at the container. Joel stopped talking when he detected the way your entire body went taut. Susan seemed to have missed it entirely, smiling fondly to herself as she rummaged through the tin.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you hiss. You immediately feel guilty for cursing at Susan. She didn’t know any better.

“Oh my word!” she gasps. “No need for all that. I won’t call you Bug anymore. You didn’t mind before …” she trails off, clueless and a little hurt.

“No. Not Bug. The- the other one,” you spit out through a clenched jaw.

“Doll?” Susan questions, completely perplexed.

You screwed your eyes shut in anger and balled your hands into fists without thinking. Your sprain quickly reminded you of its existence, and you shriek in pain. Susan was startled and a bit worried at both your mood’s abrupt fluctuation and the physical distress that had overcome you.

“C’mon. Fresh air. Now.” With no more than that terse command, Joel curled his hand around your back and side before ushering you to the back door through the kitchen.

“You hang tight, Susan. We’ll be just a minute,” he called over his shoulder before shutting the door.

The rush of a breeze swims past your figure. The outdoor noises ebb and flow in a calm volley, all the creatures and sprightly things oblivious to the wreckage of you and yet another unwarranted outburst.

“I’m such a piece of shit,” you warble, eyes fixed on your feet. Joel’s hand slowly moves into your field of vision, palm up and open, as he gently cupped your face and tilted your head to look at him.

“We’re not doin’ all that right now,” he asserts. “You’re gonna take a few minutes out here with me, and all you’re gonna do is take some deep breaths. Understand?”

You nodded, reaching your left hand to rest over his where it cupped your cheek.

“I’m never gonna be normal,” you whisper.

You weren’t looking for Joel to debate you on this. It just felt like a matter of fact that needed to be voiced and acknowledged. You don’t even try to keep yourself afloat as you drown in your sea of shame.

“Nobody’s normal,” Joel huffs humorlessly. “Fuckin’ mushroom apocalypse took care’a that concept more’n two decades ago.”

“Then I guess I mean- I guess I wish I wasn’t going to be so broken for the rest of my life.”

You didn’t look away from Joel as you normally would have in sharing such a deep-rooted fear. Joel never seemed to get worked up no matter what you said or did. You wonder what his limits are and how much of this and you he was willing to endure before dropping it entirely.

“You got a bad habit of bein’ awfully hard on yourself,” he chides.

“I’m not being hard on myself. I’m being honest with myself,” you argue.

Joel exhales a noise of disbelief through his nose. “You ever heard the expression ‘one man’s truth is another man’s folly’?”

You shake your head, unfamiliar with the phrase.

“It means your ‘truth’ isn’t the end all, be all. The next person over can look at your ‘truth’ and see it as nothin’ more than bullshit. So I’m callin’ bullshit on you, darlin’.” Joel’s face was fixed with something that let you know he wasn’t going to entertain your self-deprecation.

Your mouth fell open. Joel had never spoken to you like this before, so patently intolerant of your indulgent self-hatred. Sure, he never engaged in it, but he’d never gotten to the crux of it so directly. Not even when you’d run upstairs and away from everybody at your celebration dinner. He’d clearly decided the time had passed where he would let you tear yourself down without explicitly and swiftly intervening.

“You aren’t bein’ honest with yourself. You’re tellin’ yourself the same bullshit story those assholes fed to you all that time they had you prisoner. You’re just in a cave listenin’ to the echo and repeatin’ it back. It ain’t the truth, and you need to learn to ignore it.”

You aren’t sure how you’re supposed to ignore something that was at the forefront of your mind all day, every day. Joel picked up on the change in your expression as you digested his words.

“It’ll take time. It ain’t gonna be today. It ain’t gonna be tomorrow. Hell, it probably won’t even be this year.” As though his thoughts had started fracturing and becoming muddled, he pauses for a moment to regulate his message.

“But one day… one day you will come to see what the truth really is. What I see. What we all see in you. You’ll see it, too. You’ll find ways to let yourself be you again. I promise. It will just take time.”

The fire in his eyes made you want to believe every word he spoke. He was compelling and spellbinding, and for a moment you felt like you might benefit from just listening to everything he said and not thinking for yourself. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Not confident enough to think for yourself. No longer sure of making even the smallest of decisions without someone encouraging you along the way or offering up better alternatives. Constantly doubting your every move because you didn’t have someone in your ear telling you what to do next. It was the burden of freedom that you’d struggled with from day one in Jackson.

Even if Joel was gracious and tactful and motivated you to embrace yourself, you still had to learn to be the primary voice of control in your own head. Someone else calling the shots, even someone beautiful and amazing like Joel, was still defeating the purpose of being your own intrinsic power. The burden of freedom. The burden of power. A burden you had to try harder to bear and overcome.

“I’ll try,” you mumble, dropping your gaze again.

“I know you will, honey.”

You took a few minutes to collect yourself before heading back inside with Joel.

Susan of course accepted your apology and offered one of her own for her unintended provocation and hurt. You are frustrated with yourself for being so reactive to calls from your past. The dark void of your past. A time that overstepped its boundary, demanded to never be let go, demanded to also be your present and future, to never remain in its rightful place behind you. It loomed in wait for a microcosm of weakness before tearing through you, ravaging you, and swallowing you whole.

You are sick of it.

You are sick of the authority it has over you. You are sick of feeling afraid of its ugly head rearing into frame during the nice moments you had begun to accumulate. You are sick of running from it and letting it dictate your calculations of how you interact with people. Joel had said it was going to take time for you to learn to trust your own voice in your head. He was right, but you also knew there was something you could do right now that would get you a step closer. Something you have been avoiding.

The next morning you decide it was time. You went through your morning routine and headed over to Joel’s earlier than usual. You cannot waste any time in starting the conversation. You cannot hesitate any longer on this step towards being whole again. You can’t give yourself the opportunity to get nervous and abandon it.

“I was wondering- I need help with something.”

“Alright? Sure,” Joel’s hesitant answer came.

He had just closed the door after telling you Ellie was out. He always made sure to tell you when it was just going to be the two of you. Always made sure you were aware of that dynamic in case it was too much to take on. But it wasn’t, not anymore. You could be alone with Joel. You wanted to be alone with Joel. And his perpetual attention to making sure you were comfortable was one of the main reasons that he was exactly the person you needed to help you.

“It’s just something that— that I don’t think anyone else can help me with.” You fumble through your explanation. You aren’t swallowed whole by nerves. Not yet, anyway. You just have no idea how to bring this up.

Joel’s brow scrunches, and it’s clear he wasn’t sure exactly what he out of everyone else would be able to do for you. “I’m not sure where you’re goin’ with this,” he admits.

“I just- god, this is fucking hard,” you whisper to yourself, shutting your eyes tight.

“Take your time.” The gravelly voiced order was one you were happy to follow. You force yourself to look at him. “I just think that other people will pity me for it too much, and I can’t stand it. You might feel sorry for me, but you won’t just sit there pitying me,” you say defiantly.

Joel just stares back at you in curious wonder, not saying anything until you've had enough time and a fair chance to express yourself fully.

“And, besides that, I think they might not be able to stomach it.”

Joel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, I already told you, whatever you need, if I can give it to you, it’s yours. Just.. you gotta tell me.”

You take a large pull of air and let it sink out again.

“I need you to brand me.”

“Pardon?” he gasps. His expression was that of someone who wanted desperately to believe they had heard wrong.

“Oh, no, sorry. I mean rebrand me,” you correct yourself.

Joel’s bewildered expression turned to incredulous anger as the realization dawned on him. His jaw clenched and unclenched as his gaze shifted from you to the fireplace back and forth a few times before he spoke. You waited patiently.

“Show me.”

You nod and unbutton your jeans with your one good hand, which prompts Joel to hurriedly stop you. “Whoa, whoa. Wait now. I shoulda asked where this was.”

“It’s just on my hip. It’s not anything in my private areas,” you assure him. You had been nervous to have this talk, but now you are just scared he would back off and turn you down outright. He nodded reluctantly and motioned for you to continue.

You tug on the side of your bottoms and undergarment to reveal the shape etched into your flesh. The ugly, bumpy scar formed the symbol of your life these past couple of years that felt like eons. A misshapen S covers the jut of your left hip and side haunch.

“Fuckers,” Joel hisses under his breath. He crouches down and runs a thumb over the skin where your flesh had been maimed and abused.

“Will you do it?” You shifted your weight from side to side, bracing yourself for his answer.

“What exactly do you need me to do, sweetheart?”

“Make it look different.”

“Different how? Can’t exactly undo it.” Joel’s voice was tight, and you weren’t sure what to make of that.

“I know that. I just- I don’t know. Can’t you make it into a different looking design? Just something so it’s not what I see in the mirror every day? Please?”

Joel’s nostrils flared. It was a small blessing that you couldn’t see and hear inside his head. He wasn’t going to let you know just how much he did pity you at this very moment. The covers over your mirrors were making a lot more sense, unfortunately. You had believed him to be of stronger disposition - both in stomaching the history of it and in the physical act of searing and scarring someone’s flesh - but in truth his heart ached for you. To think you trusted him with this felt enormous.

“Please?” It was only above a whisper this time. You place a shaky hand against his cheek. His big brown eyes look up at you with tender resignation.

“Alright.”

The sigh of relief that escaped you when Joel agreed was yet another heart wrenching piece of the puzzle. He wanted to tell you he wasn’t some monolithic stone of a mind and heart who wasn’t affected by these sorts of things, but this wasn’t about what he needed you to know. This was about you finding small ways to heal or at least move forward.

And yet. “For the record, just ‘cause I can hear the story ‘n help change the mark doesn’t mean it doesn’t bother me.” Joel’s thumb traced over your scar, his gaze wandering over it as mindlessly as his finger.

Your face inched back in a small jerk, surprised by Joel’s out of the blue confession. “I know that, Joel,” you reassure him. He shook his head ever so slightly and looked back to the fire as he had done before when he was trying to gather his restless thoughts.

You cupped the side of his face firmer, pulling him to look at you.

“Joel.” It was a soft command: Listen to me. Hear me. Hear me when I say this.

“I asked you to help me because I know you’re strong. I need you because you’re strong. I need you to . . I need you to be strong for me. Take this on for me. Take it off my shoulders. Carry this weight for me. Okay?”

Joel’s eyes softened at your words and touch. He cautiously raised his hand to cover yours as it curled around his cheek. “Okay, honey.”

“You sure?” It was at least the fifth time Joel had asked you.

“Yes,” you answer calmly, just as you had every time before. You weren’t going to let yourself get impatient with him for seeking out your consent repeatedly. You knew why he was so hesitant. Thinking this might send you into a bad place. Thinking he might hurt you in the process. Thinking it might change your relationship for the worse.

But Joel didn’t understand the depths of trust you held for him. He didn’t know just how much he kept you on your path back to yourself. He didn’t know how many times you had found yourself alone and upset, only to coach yourself through it by imagining what he might do or say and then enacting it.

He didn’t realize how deeply he had settled into your chest, slowly eeking out the antidote to the poison you had been filled with. He had found his way into your heart, and that beautiful part cast outward like a light, spreading through your veins and giving you the strength to face yourself and your past.

Joel nodded, finally accepting your reply as the truth. He guided you to his room and locked the door behind him. He didn’t think Ellie would be home any time soon, but you had agreed with him when he suggested doing this behind the privacy of his bedroom door just in case. It was hard enough explaining your marking to Joel, and you didn’t even want to think about how awful it would be to try to explain it to Ellie.

“Prolly be easiest if you were layin’ down,” Joel mumbles. He was uncomfortable. You understood. He was pushing through it for your sake.

“Okay, sure,” you agree, trying to sound as neutral as possible so that he might relax.

“Um, I uh, I’m not sure about the.. the angle with the, with your….” Joel scratched the back of his neck nervously. His hand flicked towards your legs for a moment. You are confused at first but quickly realize he must mean your jeans and panties will have to be held down by you or moved to the side somehow while he works.

“Oh, you mean my jeans? And underwear?” you ask, wanting to be certain so you don’t say the wrong thing and make him even more ill at ease.

“I- yes, I mean.. I can probably figure a way to work around it,” he sighs, but he didn’t sound like he was convinced.

“It’s okay, Joel. Just turn around for a minute, okay?”

His brow is pinched tight as he turns on his heel to face away from you. You see the nervous jiggle of his hands by his sides when you start shuffling off your clothing that is obstructing his working space. It takes you longer than usual with only one fully functioning hand, but you eventually manage to remove your panties and jeans.

Joel’s back is still rigid as he looks forward, unmoving until you give him clearance to do so. You climb into his bed and gather up a small blanket piled in a lump at the edge. You tuck it between your legs and lay on your right side. You bring one end of the blanket across your stomach and over the left side of your back. You pull the other end of the blanket towards your front and drape it over the fabric already covering you. You double check to make sure all the private areas of your body are hidden from view and settle into the comfort of Joel’s bed.

“Ready, Joel,” you announce.

When he slowly turns to find you on his bed, surrounded by his things, your lower half more exposed than he’s ever seen it, cuddled up into his bedding… he suddenly gets the awful, nagging feeling that he might not be able to do this.

As if sensing his internal dilemma, you beckon for him to bring the chair to the side of the bed and sit. He reluctantly complies.

When he won’t meet your eye, you know you have to somehow make him understand how much you trust him and how much you need for him to do this.

“Joel.” He doesn’t look at you.

“Joel.” More firm this time.

You reach out and cup his face. He looks at you then.

“Thank you,” you breathe. “Thank you for doing this.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I know I said I could, but–”

You cut him off before he can finish. “You are doing this for me, Joel. This is not something you are doing to me.”

He looks at you again, a soft worry in his brow. “I don’t want to do somethin’ wrong and then you’re afraid of me,” he manages to get out in barely more than a restrained choke.

Your heart just about sunk into the floor at his quiet confession. He was scared to touch you. Scared something might suddenly change, and instead of feeling safe and trusting him you’ll feel trapped and scared.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you profess with steely conviction. He looks at you like he wants to believe you. You will have to make him believe. Somehow.

You grab his hand and run it up your bare leg, leaving his hot palm against the marking on your thigh. You press your own hand on top of his to keep it there. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of your touch. I’m not afraid of your hands on me. Ever.”

You try to ignore the electricity that is surging through you at the sensation of his hand trailing against your bare skin.

Joel takes a deep breath then, and rests his forehead against the bedding next to your legs. You could feel the tension and relief rolling off him. You leave his hand on your hipbone and rake your fingers gently through his hair. He lets out a small groan into the mattress that ignites a fire in your belly. You’d have to process that one later tonight, along with the buzz of electricity coursing in you. For now, you had to help him through helping you.

You let your fingernails scratch and comb through his wavy, peppered strands as you talk. “We can both stop if we need to. Just step away. For a minute. For an hour. Whatever. Okay?”

Joel lifts his head and holds your gaze. “Promise? You promise you’re not gonna hold it back? You’ll tell me?”

You nod your head. “I promise. And the same for you.” He nodded back, searching your face for any hesitation.

With that, he gripped your thigh for a moment as though to center himself before beginning this challenging task. He rose from his chair and gathered supplies. You sat quietly and calmly as you waited for him to return. A quick trip down the stairs and then back up with the last of what he needed to prepare.

He makes sweeping passes of something that smells antiseptic against your skin. When he asks what design you want him to try, cautioning that it needed to be extremely simple, you tell him you trust him with that, too. You tell him you are going to close your eyes so you can keep your mind off the pain.

“I’m not gonna- I will stop if you go somewhere,” he warns. You peel an eye open.

“Go somewhere?” you repeat, confused at his meaning.

“In your head. The place you told me about. Where you would go when things got bad. Where you go if things are too much,” he clarifies, swallowing down a lump of pity in his throat before you could detect it.

You surprise him with a smile. You open your eyes again to give him the connection he needs and deserves for taking this on for you. “I actually haven’t gone there much since moving to Jackson. Since-Since meeting you,” you reveal.

“Well… That makes me happy. It really does. I-” He pauses for a moment as though he is redirecting an internal debate in his mind. “-but I need you to not go there. You have to stay with me while I do this, okay? We can stop before you get to that point, just like you said earlier.”

“I promise. I know I can come to you first. Before going there,” you whisper.

He nods in agreement. “Yes. You can.”

The first few passes of the hot metal tool feel like a familiar, old pain. A distant memory, coming into focus once more. Around the 5 minute mark, you are running a path up and down Joel’s thigh for comfort - both for yourself and him. The smell of your singed flesh is unpleasant, but you breathe through your mouth as much as you can.

You and Joel pass encouragement between one another. You, spurring him on and vocalizing your mental state. Him, telling you how well you’re doing and how he’s here with you, how you’re here together, for each other.

You watch the flicker of the candle flame as Joel holds the metal end of his apparatus in it. The dull, hazy glow of orange on the heated metal is mesmerizing and soothing somehow. It’s the thing that will destroy so that it can be built up again, repaired and made right. Burning your flesh so that when it heals you’ll have something new. You’ll have something you wanted. You’ll have something you gave permission for. You’ll have ownership of the piece of your body that was taken from you, just as so many other parts of you have been stolen and used and wrenched from you.

The 10 minute mark is where you crossed into more grueling territory. Despite Joel’s steady hand and meticulous movements, a sort of muscle memory began to take hold. The present stinging and burning aren’t what’s overwhelming. It’s the time before, mixing and mingling with the here and now. It’s as if both are happening at the same time. Your body is remembering something and telling your mind every detail. It is the first time that you wish your mind and body could be separate like they normally were.

This impromptu repair of circuitry between your somatic self and your psychological self was a fundamental and overwhelming thing to process on its own. The tears started spilling over, but you talk to Joel the entire time, telling him it’s painful but you can take it. A few moments pass before you tell him, no actually, you need a break.

He sets his tools aside instantly and curves his hands around your face. He held you just like this the first trip to the market. This time around you aren’t coming out of a panicked haze, though. This time you are working through the pain, both mental and physical. This time you let him in from the start, so you never even go down that path of shadowy subconsciousness.

“Ssshhhh, it’s alright. I’m here. You’re okay. You’re doin’ so well, baby. You are. We can stop if you need to. You give me the word, and we’ll be done. It’s okay,” he soothes in a hushed tone, his forehead leaning against yours as you run the fingers of your good hand through his hair again.

“M’kay,” you sniffle.

After a moment of rest, you are ready again. You squeeze at Joel’s thigh during the more painful parts, but you don’t shy away. You don’t try to bury it. You let it out, raw and ugly. It’s safe to let it come out, to let it be truthful in its agony and vulnerability and its need for care. You need to be cared for in this moment, and it’s not a danger for the person next to you to know it. It’s safe because it’s Joel, and he will take that burden on for you as much as he can and hold onto it until you are ready to carry it again.

“Last part here, darlin’. You just hold on through this, and it’s done,” Joel murmurs.

“Okay, baby,” you whisper. You didn’t mean to call him that, but it didn’t feel wrong. It doesn’t feel wrong even now, out in the open. You open your eyes in time to see Joel swallow thickly.

“Done,” he says softly, turning to look at you before setting his tools down. He bends down to cup your face and look you squarely in the eye. You don’t exactly remember when it became an unspoken approval to hold and caress each other’s faces, but you hope the same thing happens between you both for every other sort of physical contact possible.

“Are you okay?”

You sniff and smile brightly at him. “Yeah, Joel. I’m okay.”

Joel grabs a mirror nearby and holds it up for you to see his work. A fresh wave of tears emerge, but they are not the result of pain. You cover your mouth loosely with your fingers, holding back whimpers of joy.

“Thank you,” you croak.

The bottom curve of the S is no longer the bottom curve of an S. You stare at the serpentine bend of a stem with small leaves jutting here and there to offset the arch at the base of it. The stem flows and loops into the soft curls of crude but recognizable flower petals.

“M’not a artist, but-”

You dropped the mirror to the side instantly and grabbed Joel into you.

“You don’t hafta-”

“I want to.” You wrap your good arm around him. The positioning is awkward as he half crouches beside the bed, half rests onto the mattress next to you. God, he is so solid and wide even without his entire form pressing against you. His warmth radiates onto your skin and feels like a warm bath inviting you in.

“Hug me back. Please.” Joel obliges your request, albeit very slowly so you are aware of his every move. When his arms clumsily circle around your horizontal body, you are overcome with a sensation that you have slowly become familiar with. You begin to tremble.

“No. Don’t,” you implore as you feel Joel start to pull away.

“You’re shaking,” he points out, a question as to why you are pushing unwanted contact just for his benefit.

“Just overwhelmed. Not used to this,” you remind him.

“I don’t wanna overwhelm you, honey.” His voice is strained. You can tell he is frustrated at the idea that you are pushing your limits just for his sake.

“I’m overwhelmed because it was… just too much good that I just couldn’t,” you trail off, rambling incoherently as you try to explain the amazing feeling Joel had gifted you.

“What do you feel?” he presses.

You pull his head into your chest and breathe him in. He’s careful to not touch your new marking or any of your half-clothed body. You don’t feel as though your bottom half is nearly out and all too easy for someone to access. You could be fully dressed head to toe, and it’d feel the same sort of invulnerable, tranquilizing way it does now. You don’t feel anything except–

“Safe. I feel safe. With you. Because of you.” Joel’s arms pull you closer and tighter at this admission.

“You are. You are safe with me. Always,” he reaffirms, his voice wavering slightly with emotion.

“I know,” you choke out.

It wasn’t something he had to tell you for you to know. You already knew it. You’d known it for some time now. How he was your port in the storm. How he managed to slip inside your bones and paint every wound he came across with the balm of his nourishing affection and devotion to your healing. But actually hearing it from him - in his calm, strong voice - made your eyes cloud and blur with wet.

Joel cleared his throat and shifted back to look at you. “Now let’s see about gettin’ you patched up so this thing heals good. Won’t be haulin’ me into your arms if it turns out lookin’ like a monkey found a crayon and started doodlin’.”

“How do you know that wouldn’t just make me like it even more?” you tease.

“Dunno. M'startin' to think this just sounds like you’re lookin’ for an excuse to get me in your arms,” he hums with a pulled smirk.

You grin sheepishly and shrug. “Maybe I am,” you suggest with a playful giggle.

You squeeze Joel one last time before releasing your grip. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”

“That’s ‘bout the thousandth time you’ve said thank you today,” he huffs as he stands up and starts clearing up his bedside table.

You smile at his bashful comment, but you could spend the rest of your life thanking him and it wouldn’t begin to break the surface of everything he’s given to you.

I'm ngl this chapter was hard to write. (And basically every chapter after this lmao.)

Joel recognizing (but not knowing the exact name for) FW disassociating when she's in severe psychological distress and telling her to not "go to that place" bc he's with her, by her side, to help her stay HERE. Just..... I fucking CANNOT. The disconnect between the body and the mind, and the body remembering things that the mind doesn't, only to find that it all catches up at some point.....

I know not everyone will understand why the portions I've marked as sensitive are designated as such, but for those who do understand ... that's why I do it. So. I guess consider it a good thing if you're confused as to why I choose to mark things the way I do.

Thanks everyone for being so kind with this story. I read EVERY SINGLE COMMENT. I also see every time you reblog. And every little like that pops up. 🥺 I was nervous to post this in the beginning bc it is something close to my heart, but y'all have been so, so supportive. So, thank you for that.

As if you couldn't tell, it is very personal to me. I see how the story resonates with others, and it makes me glad that maybe somebody is getting the same things from reading it that I am when I write it.

Catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

#fic: feral woman #FW #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic #the last of us

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seat-safety-switch · 9 months

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Comic books do us a disservice. They teach us that all the evil in the world can be solved by finding one charismatic or ruthless villain, and then beating the shit out of them until the problem goes away. Not a single word is said for all the faceless legions of thugs who follow this person: they are just that, followers, and will disperse to the shadows as soon as the big guy drops.

Life is not like that. Yes, Dr. Brookings, he of the Brookings Method, has fallen upon hard times in his adopted country of Argentina. He is currently considering how safe it is to drink the rainwater that collects in the bottom of the old Fiat factory that he is currently imprisoned in. I’m sure he realized very early on that that long-haired, greasy tour guide was never planning taking him to the art galleries at all. Brookings is gone now, a victim of coincidental misadventure that has nothing to do with me, but all of his disciples remain.

As we all learned during his shocking court testimony, there are in fact hundreds of psychiatrists who believed in his attempt to electroshock away the desire for air-cooled Volkswagens. This procedure was not based on science, but it had the intended result: I no longer craved the sweet release of Baja Bugs. The hope was that the resulting hole in my brain would be filled by a much more productive (or at least more inexpensive) obsession for society to deal with. I was cured, they believed, and now I can’t look on Craigslist for another shit-box Beetle without worrying if it is a trap by one of his hateful progeny, to see if I just need “a little more zap.”

Ultimately, the greatest revenge is living well. I’m pretty sure Buddha said that, before trying to bicycle-kick Jackie Chan’s head in one of those movies. Brookings is busy taking swimming lessons. He got his wish: he’s water-cooled. For me, I have had my eyes opened to any number of other crapcans out there, ranging from late-1970s Mopars, to tiny Japanese suicide booths, and even his soon-to-be-widow’s old V12 Jaguar, on which I scammed her out of $500 by pulling a plug wire on the test drive. I still got zapped doing it, which further proves the fallacy of the good doctor’s bad work.

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the-cosmos-withinus · 11 months

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Shadow Puppets AU - Philip’s curse

There was not much that Astrophel could do as Philip transformed and attacked the demons and witches on the lifeboat -frankly Astrophel thought they deserved it for daring to make demands and try to take the amulet.

The one part of the scene that really worried Astrophel was when the creature Philip had become started to devour of one the demons.

"Now's not the time for a snack!" He scolded.

He could not say whether that had snapped Philip to his senses, the creature still seemed to be being driven by pure instinct to get into the lifeboat and start consuming the Palismen that remained. Much to Astrophel's dismay, seeing how they still needed to get away from the ship.

But if Astrophel's scolding had not worked, then clearly consuming the Palismen did the trick, as Philip was back to himself within minutes. "I have some questions." He said as the lifeboat finally took off.

Philip didn't mean to be hiding his condition from Astrophel, in fact he had been looking forward to finally confiding in someone what had become of him. He knew Astrophel wouldn't judge him, he'd already seen passed his monstrous appearance to see that he was still Philip underneath. He wanted so bad to tell him all about his misadventures before something like this happened but they'd kept getting interrupted.

He managed to pull himself mostly back into his human shape. He still had his horns and one of his eyes was a small glowing orb in and otherwise empty socket, but Philip didn't care as long as he had the strength to row the paddles of the lifeboat back to shore. "I'm sure you do, but I'm afraid the answers really aren't pleasant." He replied.

One of his arms suddenly launched from his side on its own accord, snatching survivors from the other boats and throwing them into the sea, collecting Palismen from their now unguarded possessions.

Philip's eyes widened in horror and he cast a nervous glance at Astrophel, "I assure you, this is completely involuntary!"

Astrophel looked his friend over with a skeptical expression as his arm transformed and continued to knock survivors from the sea and gather the Palismen.

"Sure it is." He rolled his eye. Not that he really cared whether or not Philip's actions in the moment were voluntary or that the witches and demons that he was killing were likely innocent of any wrong doings.

The only one on the entire ship that the Collector cared about was Philip, and for the moment at least, the human was safe.

Astrophel leaned over the side of the boat, noting of course that he had no reflection in the water.

"Soooo... what's up with the gloopy-doopiness?" He asked.

"Well...It started when I was fifteen...I think."

Philip went through the whole story, as best as he could remember it at least. How he had seen Caleb and Evelyn go through the portal and run to get the Witch Hunter General and his men. The group of six had supplies packed to last a few days, which they assumed was all it would take to find Caleb, capture the Witch and return home.

None of them had been prepared to be gone for years.

He had been twelve when they had left, and by the time he was fifteen it was just him and General William, the rest of their party had died, either succumbing to the hellish elements of this world or eaten by it's monstrous inhabitants. He didn't remember what had started the fight, or even how most of it had gone, but at some point he had found himself transformed into that beast and slaughtered the General. The only thing that had helped him return to his human form was absorbing the magic inside the Palismen they'd collected from Witches they captured.

Philip did his best to describe his curse, but he knew so little of it, "I don't know how I got cursed, it's like the world itself is trying to turn me into a monster." He said, reaching up and touching one of his horns, "It's kind of like being hungry...No, not even that. I feel like I'm being hollowed out. All my feelings, my personality, when this blasted curse acts up, its like it all gets scrapped out of me and I'm left as just a husk, pretending I'm alive...At least until I get hold of a Palisman. Once I consume them I start finding my way back to being me again."

It wasn't just the Palismen, though, but Philip left this detail out for now. He wasn't ready to confront the reality that the Palismen weren't really what his inner monster was after- only what he'd been able to find when he first got his curse, and what he had desperately tried to use to keep the curse at bay all these years.

Though from the way his arm flailed about on its own it seemed his monster may have grown a taste for them

#Shadow Puppets AU #Philip Wittebane #TOH Collector #RP scene #Deadwardian Era #Philip shaved!

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jomeimei421 · 1 year

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hi do you have any more fic recs?? ive read everything you already recommended in the last post and i am Terrible at finding fics myself-

why yes indeed i do <(:]) spoilers for all of ORV under the cut! Here is a link to my other fic rec post for those who haven't seen it yet.

Mei's ORV Fic Recs 2: Electric Boogaloo

Looking for Yoo Joonghyuk by Je_te_veux

GEN, written for YJH's birthday. A canon compliant exploration of YJH's search to find the answers to who he is and what he should live for. Takes place during the epilogue. Again, JTV is a Chinese author so you will need to read their fics with material translation, but their writing is remarkable! I'm especially fond of the way they wrote YJH and Anna Croft, and also, I have a soft spot for things where YJH (who has had to carry the enormous burden of the Story for so long) finally gets to do some reading and writing of his own.

Love & Affection Do (Not) a Cat Make by featherx

Sangsoo, with a side of Joongdok. The misadventures of HSY (cat) and YJH (cat???). I have a special spot in my heart for this fic because cat HSY is written so hysterically well it has permanently affected my own characterization of HSY. Funny, charming, cute, but as with all things orv, has a very sweet and sad undertone.

Great Escapes by wyrvel

JDJ. YJH attempts to confess. KDJ does not make things easy for him. The calling card of a great jdj confession fic is a tasteful amount of KDJ brand tomfoolery, just enough to make you want to grab him and shake him like maracas. This fic accomplishes that with flying colors. It's written from YJH's pov, but you can just feel the gears turning and steam puffing out of KDJ's head. Op understands babygirl YJH. As a warning, this is the first part of a three fic series, the other two are NSFW.

Only I know how this show will end! by ineedacatchyname

YHK. Our favorite toxic polycule, now on live tv! A truly tremendous Love Island AU fic. My absolute favorite thing about this fic is that every time a character is introduced, there's a cutaway to their Love Island Love Interest Self Introduction Sexy Beach Montage Reel written in the style of a TV film script and every last one of them had me crying real tears. YSA is also excellent in this fic.

World's End Rhapsody by wakerife

JDJ, with a side of Sangsoo. This was one of the first orv fics I read, before I started bookmarking them; there's a really sweet scene of YJH reading that I couldn't get out of my head so I went on a hunt to find this fic again by searching through every single ORV fic tagged with "post-canon." A collection of KDJ recovery snippets, punctuated by some heartfelt jdj.

At Sea by ksalientian

YHK. The dead return from the sea, including KDJ. He doesn't come back exactly how they remember. Eerie, melancholy, and permeated with slow, enormous loss. There are some horror like elements in this fic, but it's more psychological than something that might make you squeamish. Yoohan are going through it. Fantastic fic!

I don't want to fall asleep just yet by featherx

GEN. Pre-canon. There's a ghost that lives inside of HSY's house. A short character study on the loneliness of a writer.

A New Story Written by pyrrhura

YHK. KDJ worries in the middle of the night about being responsible for a new story, and about being a father. Or, three idiots and baby. I love fics where yhk get their blissfully mundane happy ending, but op doesn't confuse that with forgetting the traumas and hardships of the past. Love the banter in this fic, and the way they just lean on one another without even thinking. As a warning, there are discussions of unplanned pregnancy in this.

Ain't Nobody Solving That Declining Birth Rate by dulcetair

YHK. KDJ is fresh out of a coma (broke) and YJH is a former terrorist (also broke.) The post-scenario government issues a cash incentive for people to get married. Or, the gang commits marriage fraud! Features YJH wearing a apron that says grillmaster on it. I was already a firm believer in YHK getting married for """tax benefits""" because it makes things easier for KDJ who is too embarrassed to admit anything otherwise, but the idea of HSY using Avatars to game the system and buy a three story house just for funsies is also incredibly in character.

What the Living Do by younglegends

GEN. Snapshots of mourning, loving, and longing from various KCom members' points of view. The chronological events of this fic are backwards, which makes for an interesting read. Younglegends hasn't written a lot of ORV stuff yet, but the two fics that they have so far are both downright phenomenal, and some of the best work I've seen in this community. They are also the author of the fic that I refused to spoil in the previous orv fic rec. Also, their YSA characterization is perfect.

That's all for now! Enjoy!

#orv #fic recs #mei talks #answered asks

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nrpony · 10 months

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My Little Pony: The Movie (1986) Press Kit Scans Post 3

Synopsis

I apologise in advance for the wonky scans. I was trying to figure out a good way of doing it without creasing the corners and some of them turned out kind of messy. I’ll include a transcription of everything below the cut.

Directory (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Transcription:

Page 1

At the annual Spring Festival in Ponyland, all the little ponies celebrate the end of winter with a happy pageant of song and dance. But, while they revel, the wicked witch Hydia (Cloris Leachman) and her equally nasty daughters Reeka (Rhea Perlman) and Draggle (Madeline Kahn), hatch a plot to turn peaceful Ponyland into a dark, dank and dreary wasteland.

During the festival, Lickety Split, a well-meaning but self-centered little pony, inadvertently ruins the show. Humiliated, she runs away, accompanied by her friend Spike, the baby dragon.

Meanwhile, back at the Volcano of Doom, Hydia, Reeka and Draggle busily conjure up evil spells. When an initial attempt to flood Ponyland fails, an enraged Hydia decides it’s time for the Smooze.

Page 2

She sends her daughters out to collect the necessary ingredients: mold, mildew, muck, mire, fungus, slime, rust and phlume.

The evil witch sisters collect everything except the dreaded phlume, but they don’t tell their mother, who happily creates the Smooze, (Jon “Bowzer” Bauman). Soon the purple ooze bubbles over the lip of the volcano and heads towards Ponyland. “Nothing can stop the smooze now,” cackles Hydia.

Warned of impending disaster, the little ponies prepare for the oncoming Smooze. Wind Whistler and North Star fly over the clouds, bringing Megan, Molly and Danny, along with the Rainbow of Light.

As the Smooze rolls across Ponyland, it traps Lickety Split and Spike in a cave, where they encounter the Grundles, ugly but friendly little creatures who have lost their kingdom to the Smooze. With the aid of the Grundle King (Danny DeVito), they escape.

During a tremendous showdown, the Rainbow of Light manages to stop the Smooze, but in the process, the Dream Castle is covered over, the rainbow is trapped in gooey muck, and the little ponies are forced to evacuate their beloved home.

Page 3

A shocked Hydia forces her daughters to admit that they omitted the phlume from the Smooze formula. Furious, she sends them out after the dreaded ingredient. Mission accomplished, the phlume is added to the dormant Smooze, and it springs back to life.

Desperate at this point, Megan, Wind Whistler and Fizzy visit the wise old Moochick (Tony Randall), who provides them with an ancient map leading to the Flutter Ponies, magical little winged ponies who might be able to stop the Smooze.

Lickety Split, Spike and the Grundles have a series of misadventures as they outrun the Smooze. During their travels, they rescue Morning Glory, a tiny gossamer-winged Flutter Pony, trapped in a well. A grateful Morning Glory offers to lead them to Flutter Valley.

Meanwhile, back at the new pony home, Paradise Estate, the little ponies, the Bushwoolies and other woodland creatures huddle together helplessly as the Smooze oozes towards them. The witches gloat triumphantly atop their Smooze boats!

Just when all seems lost, the sky fills with tiny Flutter Ponies who shift into Utter Flutter, creating a tremendous wind when they flutter their wings in unison. The sound is like a thousand tiny wind chimes and the force sweeps the Smooze all the way back

Page 4

to the Volcano of Doom, uncovering the Dream Castle and freeing the Rainbow of Light. Hydia, Reeka and Draggle are dumped back into the volcano, along with the last of the Smooze.

With new understanding about the meaning of friendship, the heroic Flutter Ponies return home. As thanks for saving Lickety-Split and Spike, the Ponies give Dream Castle to the Grundles. Happiest of all is Baby Lickety-Split, glad to be back home with the Little Ponies where she belongs.

#mlp #my little pony #mlp g1 #my little pony: the movie #my little pony the movie 1986 #g1 #press kit #production materials #mlp n friends

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bedtimegiraffe · 3 months

Text

Aerin Diamond Scene Rewrite Fic

Very glad Kade pushes your character on their trauma from being kidnapped. However, I would love for a LI to comfort your character about the fact that they keep almost dying. (Shoutout to Imtura for briefly comforting MC about the upcoming life-or-death battle, but I want more.) Relationships are a 2-way street! So here’s a little rewrite of the beginning of Aerin’s pre-battle diamond scene. Enjoy!

To accompany this, I recommend the slow and sweet “You Matter to Me” from the musical Waitress. “Come out of hiding, I'm right here beside you. And I'll stay there as long as you'll let me.”

(I don't think there are any warnings to be given other than discussion of possible death.)

It takes some looking, but you eventually find Aerin in a room on one of the ships, pacing with such focus that he doesn’t notice you as you enter. It’s kind of cute how intensely he’s thinking. You speak up, hoping you don’t startle him too badly. “How did you end up here of all places?”

Aerin’s head suddenly turns in your direction, eyes wide. “Oh! I… I wasn’t expecting you.” His surprised expression disappears almost at once, replaced by one of relief. “Imtura offered me this cabin, as a matter of fact.”

“Really?”

“I thought she was going to punch me. But she said that if I was brave enough to come back, I deserved a good place to sleep.” Aerin grins at you sarcastically. “I suppose tripping is a form of affection.”

His brief smile fades as he waves you into the cabin, then resumes his pacing.

You bite the inside of your lip. He looks so nervous. You can hardly blame him for that. “Are you having second thoughts about coming back? Because you… you don’t have to stay.”

Aerin stops moving, turning to give you a searching look. “You would let me leave so easily, then? Even on the eve of battle?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to see you again. Happy you’re here to help. But… things have been exceptionally dangerous since you left. I-” You take a shaky breath in. “I almost died. More than once. In those moments, I really wanted to see you again. But at the same time, I was relieved you were somewhere safer. And now that you’re here, I’m worried you’ll…” The thought hurts to even acknowledge.

Aerin’s eyes tighten with concern, though he covers it passably well. “Telling me you’ve been in incredible danger is hardly the way to get me to leave. And I did not come all this way to back out now.”

You suddenly feel desperate as the fear you’ve struggled to keep at bay forces itself to the front of your mind. “…Aren’t you scared?”

Aerin looks at you for a long moment, his gaze soft. “I’m not. Honestly, I expected to be frightened out of my wits. But for the first time, I actually feel prepared for battle. I trained all throughout my youth, but I never had a good cause to put it to. Just…” He frowns, looking toward the floor. “Baldur’s hunting misadventures. And then my misadventures.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t…” You close your eyes, trying to collect your thoughts. When you open them, Aerin is right in front of you. Close enough to touch. “Nia died last time. The Blade brought her back, but it was an absolute miracle. I don’t know that we’ll get another one of those. I never used to worry about any of us like this, but we keep getting so close to everything just being over and I can’t…” You choke back a sob. As you struggle vainly to hold back a flood of tears, Aerin hesitantly puts his arms around you, slowly pulling you into a warm embrace. You cling to him tightly as you cry, like he’s the only real thing in the world. Your next words come out in a frantic rush. “I can’t lose you again. Any of you. I can’t be all alone again.”

Aerin doesn’t respond for a moment, just cradling your shaky frame and unconsciously running his thumb in a soothing path along your back. “I wish I could tell you what will happen tomorrow. But I don’t know. There is a possibility this will be our last night alive.” It’s a terrible thing to hear, but… a relief for someone else to finally acknowledge it. “But you won’t be alone. All of your incredibly capable and persistent friends will be with you. I will be with you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

It does help to be reminded that you’re not in this alone. None of you are.

You focus on breathing deeply until you’re calm enough to pull back and look at Aerin again. “How are you so relaxed about the fact that we could all die tomorrow?”

His face melts into a smile, fond and affectionate. “Because I’m fighting for our city and our people. For you.” He brings a hand to cup your cheek, forcing you to meet his suddenly serious gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You smile at that, wiping the last of the tears from your eyes. “Thank you. For being honest with me about…” You take a deep breath. “What might happen tomorrow. And for standing by me.”

“Always.” Aerin gazes deeply into your eyes and, for just a moment, you forget that there exists a world outside this room. Then he blinks, a faint blush rising in his cheeks, and he pulls away. He gestures for you to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

Once you’re seated, Aerin sits next to you, close enough that your arms can’t help but brush. “I suppose I still owe you an explanation for running off the way I did…”

#And then the scene continues as you choose!#blades of light and shadow #choices bolas #blades of light and shadow 2 #aerin valleros #blades mc #aerin x mc #fanfic

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