#manifesting good things ONLY for these two lads. or else ;-;

[mirror-to-the-past]

Finished KH3 and Re:Mind- holy shitballs.

So *much* was happening throughout that climax, and so little of it was cohesive, and Re:Mind made it so a double narrative was taking place simultaneously alongside the base KH3 climax so yeah, it's going to be hard to discuss everything I probably would've wanted to while playing throughout those fateful final hours. I'm definitely going to accidentally skim over some details or questions I have, purely as a consequence of my head whirling.

The two biggest criminals here impacting my understanding of the plot are one- the aforementioned double narrative and two- the obfuscating nature of Sora's POV (like, the one that comes to the forefront of my mind at the moment was when he came out of the light tunnel with Kairi after resurrecting everyone via Power of Waking and looked off somewhere and appeared confused/surprised). Re:Mind explained what was going on in some suspicious moments where Sora looked like... haha I don't know how else to describe it except by saying he looked like he was dissociating? But yeah, that post light tunnel moment was not one of those so. 👀 Literally have no inkling what they might have been going with there- just a feeling of significance I can't shake. I got that a lot throughout the end of this playthrough. Pain.

The time travel in this game was one of the most bonkers usage of time travel I've seen in media, and I salute the writers for sticking to it and making their plot happen. I think my brain would've fried halfway through and I'd have cried at the keyboard. I am but a mortal stuck on a linear scale. This falls somewhat beyond me. I'll try my best to make heads or tails of it, though.

While the execution felt somewhat... sudden/rushed, I appreciated the follow-up on Sora's crumbling self esteem. 10/10 mini breakdown, you motivated Riku to such a degree that he got you spirited to the Final World- good job, lad. I know Naminé said that Kairi was the one keeping Sora tied to the Final World, but I had to wrap my mind around that statement, assuming its validity, because it felt a bit out of left field for me. I only mention this because after everything I saw (Riku's sacrifice shown twice, a good number of the star people who had very similar sounding sentiments to Riku [lemme tell you some of those stars were very telling], and I thought I was bullshiting on this one at first, but after rewatching the Final World's title card animation thingy, it ALSO looks a lot like a reflection of the composition of the Riku death scene), I felt a bit surprised that it was not said to have been Riku's contribution that kept Sora chained to the Final World- it would definitely have made sense given the context. However, Kairi's love and hope for Sora is definitely not to be dismissed, alongside Riku's love and belief in him, so upon thinking on it more, I see it as a "Riku saved and tethered Sora's heart to the Final World and Kairi helped Sora retain his form" kind of thing. And if you think about the presence of each character in Sora's life, their contributions under that lense would make sense:

Kairi is a symbol of home and memory, maintenance of stability. She would be the one to hold onto her memory of Sora- strong enough that he would maintain some level of physicality and semblance of mortal self, even in near death. Similarly to what Joshua said in DDD: "By ourselves, we're no one. It's when other people look at us and see someone- that's the moment we each start to exist. All they needed was someone to see them, connect with them." <- That fits pretty well with the situation.

Riku focuses more on new beginnings, and the casting away of things deemed as 'unnecessary' (body, home, companionship... debatablely happiness) for the sake of pursuing desires. It would match up with his history of possession and development where he learns relinquishing of control. Without Kairi's contribution, Sora would likely have just manifested as another faceless star person, as retaining Sora's heart would've been Riku's priority in that moment, regardless of what form he would take. (From moments before Riku's sacrifice- "We haven't lost them. They still have their hearts. But we have to protect them." Tie that into Riku's "Protect the things that matter" thing, and boom.)

So uh... go team! Sora may be determined to get himself killed, but with their powers combi- oh... (Looks at the ending)

Also I made sure the 111th Sora I grabbed was doing a funny little jig. I'm proud of me.

Here's a speculative blurb from a previous attempt at a KH3 climax post from earlier that ended up getting scrapped:

"Because of what Young Xehanort said (EN: the "It's already too late for you" line), now I'm wondering if Sora's being baited into an illusion where his friends are safe, because he couldn't handle a world where that wasn't the case, paralleling DDD ending. That, or Sora's just doomed himself by going to the Final World, using the power of waking a bunch and attempting to carry on, business as usual."

While I'm glad that it didn't turn out as bleak as the initial speculation, I do still wonder post ending if, given Xehanort's level of anticipation of his opponents' moves on a metaphysical level, he took advantage of Sora's insistence on breaking reality for his loved ones as a way to bait him and shove him out of the way forever, or if sending him to where it looks like Sora ended up was somehow more advantageous for his ambitions in the long run. And let it be known I predicted my boy was going to sorta-die due to his everything-ex-machina. I cracked jokes about it to cope throughout the entire finale.

Examples:

"Boy Riku, the air that I'm breathing in the Keyblade Graveyard sure is stuffy, but I feel immensely grateful for it for some reason. *coughs forebodingly*"

"Y'know Kairi, I think I'm down to reminisce with you for once. I just feel like I should really look at where life's taken me so far. Oh, no particular reason. Lovely weather today."

On a less upsetting note-

ROXASSS

XIONNN

YYEAHHHH BABEYY 😎😎😎

Literally lost my MIND when Roxas showed up. The hype I felt was immeasurable, and my day was made. The "Other Promise" rendition during the fight was sick, and Re:Mind did the Org. trio even more justice with their attacks. When Xion started crying post fight I was just like... same, babygirl. It was just a lot, and I'm so happy Roxas was yoinked back into existence.

Still extremely intrigued about all of the unknowns in the Org. XIII lore. You can't just take away all the cool guys again and not tell me anything new about them (Marluxia, Larxene, Demyx, Luxord). Especially after Xemnas previously made a big deal literally about how mysterious they all were. Dick. >:0

Very curious about when and how Luxord's wild card will come into play, considering it didn't get mentioned during Re:Mind, as I assumed it might in order to help Sora fix Kairi or perhaps get Sora out of his mess. KH4, maybe? 👀

Also XIGBAR MVP ONCE MORE LFG. OR SHALL I SAY, LUXU?? I really should've put two and two together for that one, because of how all-knowing Xigbar seemed to be at all times, but I wasn't particularly focused on figuring out Luxu's identity, so that's on me. Curious about how he summoned the Foretellers. Thought they were dead, for some reason, but I suppose there was no reason to assume so if Luxu was able to survive that long as well. Wonder what they've been up to? Ava noped out- wisest thing anyone has done this entire franchise, lol. I would assume the Book of Prophecies was inside the box, but as seen by the Union X stuff, Mr. Master was still enjoying prophetic light reading after he sent Luxu away, so all one can assume is that it's parts of the Book of Prophecies hidden away from everyone or perhaps another significant book altogether. We'll seeeee. *explodes*

Speaking of the Union X stuff, loved that moment where Ephemer phased into Sora's reality to stir the lingering wills of the deceased Keyblade wielders into action. I just felt so happy for what I assume were real players who are now forever immortalized in the game as people who come to your side to help you beat the tough baddie, y'know? I got a bit emotional- it reminded me of NieR:Automata. If you know, you know.

Riku and Xehanort's Heartless have finally finished their strange drawn out mentorship/insecurity demon/invasive clingy ex dynamic. I chuckled a little bit at Riku saying "I think I'll miss you." Oh dear, lol.

I love that one scene where all the Guardians of light minus Kairi and Sora were fighting in an Avenger-esque huddle in the sky, and they occasionally chatted with each other. Ventus complimenting Roxas made my heart warm. It's the little things!

Scala ad Caelum is so pretty! And fun to say, haha! It reminds me a lot of a The Mist/Sharlayan city lovechild from FFXIV. Very Mediterranean, bleached white coastal prettiness. Would live there- 10/10. Also, I appreciate the consistency of people's hearts manifesting physically as their homeland. You had Sora's heart in DDD as the island the kids played at in Destiny Islands, and now Xehanort where he was raised and trained (he felt more personal connection to it than say, Destiny Islands, where he seemed to have also spent part of his life). It's sweet, and a bit sad, as both have grown so estranged from their homelands.

The way I SCREAMED when I got to play as Kairi. So sad how she's been thrown into such a disastrous fray so suddenly after becoming a Keyblade wielder, her and Axel/Lea (I don't care about Merlin's time stopping magic man, I Know they needed more time) and suffered the most for it. She was really getting the Sora treatment of being talked down to by the villains (kudos to Axel/Lea, I love him so much for calling Kairi his trump card, they make me so happy), and being seen as easy pickings. It's so good that Sora was in her corner to help her, because like damn. Girlie went through it. And then she comes out the other end only for her best friend who risked life and limb for her to fucking DIE as a result of how hard he tried to make sure she was safe despite the universe working against her (gj for Sora finally stepping up as a Kairi bodyguard this game, by the way. About time 🙄 [I am light-heartedly referencing my own inside joke].)? DAMN. SHE'S PROBABLY GOING THROUGH IT EVEN MORE. Survivor's guilt, anyone? But yeah, anyway, her going "please work!" when fighting Xehanort was so sad... you're doing great, Kairi! Don't let anyone tell you different! Loved the "One Heart" attack her and Sora had! It was so pretty, and they're absolutely my little angels- they deserve the wings! Love how they're both like... the connection pieces between everyone, y'know? I love Kairi's attack pattern of her initial swipe being a long ranged hit that then zaps her to the target- thought that was great design! It was on par with Aqua's gameplay in this game, for me, and I admittedly like the feel of it a little more than Roxas' and Riku's. Side note- was Riku's AI as a party member just wack for me, or does he not have healing moves/items this game? I only ask because I remember how he was like 🫰 On It whenever Sora's health would drop a smidgen in KH2, but here he was like "I saved you in cutscene, if you die now, you die, fam."

That part in Re:Mind where Mickey becomes playable and gets a whole Price of Freedom last stand moment had me in tears, I was laughing so hard from the melodrama of it all. But also the music was genuinely beautiful. It's just... 😂 I'm sorry I loved it so much. I love these games, they're so ridiculous. If someone likes Kingdom Hearts, I can't help but assume they also have a brilliant sense of humor, as well.

Love how every day, Kingdom Hearts becomes more and more Doctor Who. That one battle line from Young Xehanort, the fanatical time traveling icon himself, where he stops time and says "Don't Blink" made me smile.

I really liked that one Vanitas line to Sora- "And I do stand by your side. I'm the shadow that you cast. How much closer could I be?" I am reminded that the main reason I love antagonistic characters is due to their cryptic and occasionally poetic speech patterns.

Speaking of antagonistic characters who are NOT poetic- Master of Masters my GUY! I am consistently delighted to see this guy on screen, he's so loveable- I don't care about his war crimes. Thought it was hilarious how he said "So you're saying the weak feel the need to justify their actions to maintain a sense of self." And it completely goes over Xehanort's head how hard he's justifying his intended actions in that scene. When a guy like the Master of Masters, who seems to pride himself on low involvement passively mentions your strong willed ideologies, I'd get the idea he's silently judging you in his head. "There's no class, really! What happened to letting human nature take its course? Kids these days just can't wait for things to fall into place over the course of millennia anymore." *Cracks open a cold one in the Keyblade Graveyard*

Oh also, Xehanort and Gaius van Baelsar from FFXIV are the same individual in goals and personality and that is immensely hilarious to me. They both have a propensity of taking in orphans that then go through psychological and physical trauma for his agenda, too. You don't understand him, guys! The weak were being propelled into a misguided agenda that controlled the masses, and SOMEONE needed to step up and be the voice of action that would allow the motherland- *ahem* Keyblade Wielders and the worlds to return to their true glory! All these teenagers and twenty-somethings raving to him about friendship and light are too sensitive- they'll give Keyblades to anyone nowadays, and he hates this new woke Keyblade society! Next time, on the Xehanort podcast-

As you can see, at this point in the post my sanity dwindles evermore. So, I'll finish by going over the last major thing that made me spiritually foam at the mouth a little bit:

SECRET ENDING CUTSCENE WAS SO WELL COMPOSED HOLY SHIT. Every single frame was desktop worthy. The LIGHTING. I also like how it looks more Final Fantasy, admittedly. The other style they had in the fancy cutscenes looked a little off-putting with everyone's porcelain doll eyes. But this one? MWAH. BELLISIMO.

The MUSIC. The COLORS. The red/blue thing Sora and Riku kept locking onto while they were gaining their bearings and trying to find each other? The warm/cool tones between each of the boys' sides, both still within an urban setting? The dynamic camera movement that started as slow, unfocused, lingering shots to reflect Sora's (especially) and Riku's disorientation of their new surroundings, all before switching to sudden, sweeping shots over the cityscape as the realization of their circumstances crashes down upon them? Them walking into each other's shots while looking around, showing how they're searching for each other even subconsciously? OH, OH, AND THE RED/BLUE THING CARRIED OVER FOR THE DEFINITELY NOT PLOT RELEVANT (it's not like the game drew attention to how he looks like Sora [I don't see it but whatever] and Riku, and this series has never made character designs plot relevant ever) HETEROCHROMIA IN THE VIDEO GAME GUY TOO, AND YEAH, HE'S THERE LMAO?? Literally did not have "the spoof Riku-esque character from the damn Toy Story World is important and potentially the MCs' secret lovechild" on my Bingo card, but I'm adaptable. I hope that once he and Riku meet there's a Spiderman meme moment. I also hope Sora's like "What? How am I talking to you? You're from a video game!" And Yozora is like "You also are from a video game" and we finally shatter this paltry meta narrative barrier we've been poking at once and for all. Give me more chaos, I must feed.

I was extremely confused as to why Riku was in the same place as Sora, and was like "maybe it's another DDD parallel world separating them from each other" thing, but still, how did he get there in the first place? But then I laughed as I envisioned the natural, sensible progression of this situation in a hypothetical post-Sora disappearance cutscene where everyone stares on, shocked, and Kairi wobbles down the Paopu tree, sobbing, to everyone else on the beach.

Kairi: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, he said he didn't have much time left, but he was happy to spend it with everyone, and he's happy I'm safe and- *sniff* and- I should've asked him something that could help us go after him and-"

Riku: "Don't worry, Kairi. I'll handle this."

Aqua: "Riku, we don't even know where to start, we need to assess the situation!"

Axel: "Aaaand, he's walking away."

Ventus: "What do you think he's planning on doing?"

Terra: "It's Riku. He's a man with a plan. He'll do what he has to to... uhm."

Axel: "Aaaand, he's walking into the ocean."

Kairi: "RIKU, NO-"

Naminé: "RIKU, YOU CAN'T DO THIS AGAIN-"

And from where I left off before getting mercilessly slaughtered by my first Data fight, it's now been a whole year of Absent Sora. Damn. One squad's in hell, Kairi might be in another coma, and Riku's probably gonna take up blindfolds again at this rate. What no Sora does to a mf part 2.

Riku: "We NeEd to BeLieVe in HiM. HiS hEaRt aNd HiS miNd aRe MaDe uP." *Puts his face in his hands* *Silently sobs*

#kingdom hearts 3 first playthrough #kingdom hearts #kh3

[wastelockwoes]

20 questions for fic writers

I stole this from @chipper-daily 💚

I'm also terrible at tagging, so if you see this, consider yourself tagged :3

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

Oh lord. Public - 21. Actual total uh... Oh fuck, 30 fics.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

378,162

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently IZ, I doubt that'll change anytime soon.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Suck (IZ, ZADR, NSFW)

Ready to Burn (IZ, ZADR, NSFW)

Get Down, Make Love (IZ, ZADR, NSFW)

Twisted Transistor (that's right, that's mine lmao) (IZ, ZADR, NSFW)

Seven Minutes In Heaven (IZ, ZADR, NSFW)

If you're sensing a theme, that's cuz you're right. I have brainrot. I wonder if anyone from my Silent Hill fic days even follow me on AO3 anymore lmao.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! Unless I just genuinely can't think of a reply (i.e, someone makes a request for what they'd like to see happen in an In-Progress fic, and I know it's not gonna happen but don't want to accidentally come across as rude. If there's nothing else for me to reply to, I won't respond to that comment. Sorry!)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

For IZ, it's Post-Blue for sure. For Silent Hill, despair and die has the worst ending of the two fics I wrote by far. Sorry Henry <3

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Weirdly enough, I think most of my fics have happy endings? I say weird, because I'm not actually a happy ending kinda guy, but I do like to provide some sort of resolution since fic is predominantly something people turn to for entertainment.

That being said, I'd say Suck is probably my most hopeful ending, and that things genuinely stay pretty good for the lads in that AU barring the light kidnapping incident that occurs in the sequel.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have been wonderfully blessed so far, which means now I've written that and manifested it into the world, someone is gonna leave me an absolute ripper of a hate comment. Worst thing someone ever did was ask for an update on Suck after less than a month, while also calling me stinky.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nah.

JK, I write a lot. If you're over 18, go check it out yourselves <3

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Oh boy. Yes, I actually do enjoy writing crossovers, even though I never read them. I wanna write an actual IZxSilent Hill crossover sometime soon, but for now Prisonic Fairytale is the closest to achieving that (and desperately needs updating soon, sorry orz)

BUT, my first ever IZ fic was actually technically a crossover. The plot of Love Is A Verb is based on the film Wristcutters A Love Story, though things diverge a lot and the ending is very loosely based on both the film and the original novella that was based on called Kneller's Happy Campers. I only don't have it tagged as a crossover since I diverged so much from the film's plot halfway through the fic, and no characters from the film appear (or do they...?)

If you check that fic out, please mind the tags. There's a lot of very heavy themes in that fic.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have, I have no idea, and tbh I'd probably rather not know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have not!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

The wonderful @chipper-daily and I currently have something in the works that you're all gonna love >:3c

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

If you couldn't guess by now, it's Zim x Dib.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oof. Honestly, my Foodcourtia fic Enemy of the Fugue State. Because I started writing that as a total stream of consciousness kinda thing with zero outline, and my brain put on the breaks half-way through a goddamn sentence and I'm not sure how to get to where I wanna go next.

This isn't to say it's abandoned by any means! Just that I might need to go back to the drawing board with that one.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I'm good at writing dialogue?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I could be way more descriptive tbh.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

All about it. Alas, I'm monolingual, so that's not something I can experiment with myself. Unless Dib or Zim ever go to France or Germany and need to ask to borrow a pen or something. In that case, I'm all set.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Final Fantasy 7. It was terrible, and no longer exists. Cloud and Vincent got married at the Gold Saucer and that is literally the only details you'll ever get out of me. I was 13 xD

Tho getting super technical, the first 'fic' I ever wrote was a class creative writing assignment in Year 5, where I wrote about Digimon.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I love all of my fics, else I wouldn't have written them! That being said, my favourite published fic is definitely Love Is A Verb 💚

#ask game #i really need a writing tag

[ofsilentthings]

Here is another prompt... Don't ask what inspired it....

"When Micolash was a child, He was found abandoned outside of Byrgenworth, similar to Laurence, The only thing he had from his parents was a single stuffed bear, Which he clung to until he was, like 16"

The cursed reminder of his past had not seen the light of day for at least a year. The young man kept it locked in a box under his bed, so far under that he would have to move the bed to get to it; this was usually enough to deter him from reaching for it, since the bed squeaked and scraped against the floor, making noise and drawing attention to his actions. He didn't want that terrible screech being brought into the world. A horrid stinging strain that reminded him most of all that he still desired comfort and love from parents that had never been in his life. Even imagining the sound was enough to make Micolash cringe; that was enough to stop him in his tracks, and go back to studying, or writing, or whatever actions he deemed more important than self-introspection. For even at sixteen, the person who was to become the Host of a Nightmare for a Great One had great plans; he felt like he knew of something that no one else had, that he had been cursed with the knowledge of something beyond the cosmos. When he was still a child, Micolash didn't have the words for this concept, but he knew if he just kept working at it, he would achieve his goals. And yet the dusty bear remained under his bed, a last vestige of a childhood he never had.

That is, until one night. Him and Laurence had another fight - not something as high and mighty as ideological differences, for they were still children - but over dessert. The Byrgenwerth food was never good, but when a chance sweet treat managed to make its way to the college, it was fought for with the fury and passion of ravenous dogs. This night the two boys had fought over the last piece of pie. They fought with great fervor, and while Micolash always hoped he would one day break one of Laurence's legs, he never had the physical strength to do so. So he had to contend with merely cutting Laurence's eye with his fingernails. The other lad had cried out and Willem had noticed, so they both were sent to their rooms without dessert. As Micolash paced in his room that evening, he wished he had gouged the other boy's eye out, and not simply scratched the cornea. Such a heated hatred for Laurence flowed around and through Micolash's body, it made him feel feverish and delusional. In the middle of this seething, he looked out his window towards the lake that sat next to Byrgenwerth. There in the night sky was the moon, so large and bright. The intensity of the light made Micolash stop for a moment and ponder about things larger than desserts. About his place in the cosmos. He felt himself cool down, and with that came a growing sense of shame. He had been wasting his energy on Laurence. He looked at his desk, scattered with papers, and saw the infantile chicken scratches on them and knew it was all wrong. He was wrong. If he wanted to become better, if he wanted to ascend, he had to recreate himself. There was one thing keeping him back though. He looked to his bed and pictured the dusty bear in its metal box. Up until this point the thought of the bear tucked away had comforted him, but now, he felt the urge to purge such weakness from his system. He knew he could be better than paltry family and friends and soft comfort. Rashly Micolash pulled his bed away from the wall. The loud screech only served to push him on towards breaking his own shackles. He grabbed the metal box, opened it, and beheld all his weaknesses made manifest. He hated it. He hated that bear with one eye falling off and worn off fur. He hated how lumpy it felt, how it probably smelled. He hated it, and without further thought flung it into the lit small fireplace of his room. Micolash felt twinges of regret and perhaps longing for what he was losing. But he also leaned into that pain of cutting away a part of himself and instead found strength in it. He would be better than the slice of pie that had made him act so beastly. He would be better than Laurence who had goaded him to violence. He would be better than Willem who dared to send him to his room. He would be better than Byrgenwerth, a stuffy old institution of dusty ideas. He would be better than them all. He would ascend, come hell or high water.

#bloodborne #flash fiction #answered asks #teenagers have it rough #fighting over pie #laurence the first vicar #micolash host of the nightmare

[leensor]

#hi #just a little scene i had in my head #im going to watch the finale now #manifesting good things ONLY for these two lads. or else ;-; #anyway #ofmd fandom enjoy <3 #ofmd #ourflagmeansdeath #our flag means death #stede bonnet #blackbeard #our flag means death fanart

[hozierandco]

Callum Turner x Reader - The After-Match pt. 2 (SMUT)

A few seconds later, the referee whistled the end of the game, making cheerful and despondent people in the audience.

Cal, 10.56 pm: You better be home in 30 minutes or I'm starting the after-match without you

Y/N, 10.57 pm: I'll be there in no time!

A wave of cheers had engulfed the streets: Chelsea had won and it was only the beginning of a long night for the supporters that had assembled from all around, from Trafalgar Square to Greenwich, from Brixton to Hammersmith.

Horns beeping everywhere, pedestrians with beer in their hand and their voices broken.

"Are you joining us, Callum? We're going to the pub to celebrate!"

"Nah, tonight I'm celebrating with Y/N!"

Callum's friends all chuckled while looking at each other "You lucky bastard!", one snickered.

"We're not holding you back then!", another added.

"Have a great night, lads!", Callum said while getting his coat that had been discarded on the hat stand by the door.

"Yeah, you too!"

There was no time to lose. He could not take a cab since he had not booked any and going with his own two feet would take him nearly an hour. He knew that an hour would be way too long and that his body would not be able to cope.

From the moment he had read that Y/N had been cheeky enough not to wear any undergarments, he had felt a bulge flourishing. He had benefitted from the half-time to try and get rid of the tide that was boiling in his boxers, to no avail.

He then decided to take the tube, hoping in his innermost that the next train wouldn't last too long to arrive and that it wouldn't be too crowded. The Northern line usually was not at that time of the night but it was a game night so who knew...

He ran to the Angel train station as his phone indicated that the next train would be there in 10 minutes.

Cal, 11.09 pm: Shit, Y/N, you've got me running... The things I wouldn't do to fuck you...

Cal, 11.12 pm: U there?

But Y/N too was busy running. If the road from Regent's Park to Primrose Hill was a rather short one, she had taken too much time parting from her friends and was now late for Callum's plans.

Y/N, 11.14 pm: It's only your warm-up Cal'

Cal, 11.16 pm: From now on, it's "sir" for you!

Only a few seconds after reading the instruction, Y/N heard her phone writhe again.

Cal, 11.16 pm: If you're not here in ten minutes, I swear things will go very wrong for you!

It was all that Y/N needed to go back to her running although she was aroused at the idea that things could go "very wrong" according to her boyfriend.

She had one last street to walk by. She looked at her phone: 11.23 pm. Why are the London streets so long, she thought...

Finally the door to the Georgian hôtel particulier they shared with three other tenants. 11.25 pm.

She walked in only to notice that Callum was standing under the bare lightbulb in their living room.

"Congratulations for the game!"

"Yeah...", Callum said absent-mindedly. Y/N understood what Callum was doing: he was going through all the possibilities he had to take as much pleasure with her.

In love, Callum was the romantic type with a twist. It did not take him much to change from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde but he always valued Y/N's pleasure over his, always listening to the echoes of her lust. He was a passionate lover beyond the shadow of a doubt.

But that night, Chelsea had won and a deal is a deal.

Callum walked in a painfully slow pace towards Y/N with his large hands behind his back. When he was at her level, he stood in a parallel way behind her back and with one hand started descending on Y/N's dress. He had to check by himself.

Careful as not to touch her genitalia for the time being as he was not willing to surrender now, he grazed her hips and noticed that she had not lied.

"You really didn't wear no panties, huh?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, Cal"

Callum clucked his tongue and corrected her while putting his two hands on her shoulders "What did I say? It's "sir" for the misbehaving girls who wear slim dresses with nothing under them"

"I wouldn't lie to you, Sir"

Callum flipped Y/N around so that she was now facing him and ignited a symphony of kisses on her neck, her forehead and finally on her mouth. With each kiss, he went stronger too which Y/N replied by forcing her tongue to meet his.

Callum pulled her even closer and was ready to take her right there on the spot but he had another plans. With the contact of his beige chino trousers over her velvet dress, Y/N could spot the bulge that Callum had tried so hard to hide.

She might have looked a little too much for Callum had to intervene "Since you seem to like what you see, how about you get on your pretty knees and suck me off while you're at it"

"Yes, sir"

Y/N hoped that she would not be the cause for a pond on the floor as she had not anticipated that not wearing underwear could come with such consequences.

She executed herself and got on her knees. Right there, in the living room by the sole light emanating from the lightbulb and with the only sound of the supporters from afar.

She used Callum's legs as a support to get down and nodded at her boyfriend's "Are you okay with that?"

She was eager for the touch she had craved for almost ten days. When Callum had to leave abruptly earlier in the night, she had sensed it as a treason. Surely, he knew what he was doing, not giving her any attention for days and all of a sudden being all smitten.

He knew th ehold he had on her and knew the mess she would become if he started a fire only to let the sparks burning behind him.

Y/N then took Callum's trousers and boxers off in one brief moment, thus revealing the proud length that was finally being acknowledged and addressed.

Without further ado, Y/N stroked the thick column with her right hand, taking care of the two other inhabitants with her other one.

Callum could at last savour the fruit of his team's victory and his patience paying.

He was still standing tall on his two feet and came to the dramatic conclusion that he would soon need a pillar to rest on if he did not wish to fall. And would need one very soon as a matter of fact, considering the speed Y/N had gotten her hands used to. He chose Y/N's hair as a pillar and started running his hands in it.

All in her reactions appeared as though she would follow to the letter his commands. She had hungry plums in place of her eyes that manifested her lust to get more from the interaction. And her mouth was watering in expectation of the forbidden fruit that she would gladly receive. Slight moans slipped through her teeth, echoed by Callum's bestial growl.

Some foam oozed out of the head of his member, which seemed to be the signal Y/N had waited to get her mouth have a taste at it. She lapped up the drops of cum before getting more inside.

"All fucking night, I've been dreaming about this..."

"... And Chelsea winning too, I suppose?" Y/N retorted as she caught her breath back.

"Only close second to this", he assured with a moan on the corner of his lips and his hands directing her mouth to find its way back on where it was aching.

Callum's head tilted back as the petite mort was about to overflow and take him in its wake "Oh! Fuck, Y/N"

Once Callum's cock was empty of its ambrosia, Callum held a hand at Y/N to invite her to stand up and once she stood in front of him, he kissed her. In his kiss, he led the parade towards their bedroom.

"Anything else I can do for you, sir?" Y/N playfully inquired in a moment of respite that her lover had been generous to offer. In fact, he also needed it as he was still panting from the kissing and the blowjob.

"Ride me", Callum said in a deadpan tone.

"Anything you want, sir!"

Callum had only had the time to pick his boxers from the floor of the living room but had relinquished his trousers over there. He lay all of his tall body on the bed, taking off his shirt in the process.

Still standing by the end of the bed, Y/N got her knees on the extremity of it, moving on all fours heading straight and as soft as a panther to her boyfriend.

She straddled him, pushing her hair to one side of her face. As she could feel the bulge forming again under her pounding groin, she took off her dress, passing the piece of cloth over her head. In a second when she did not have eyes on Callum as the dress was right before her eyes, he fondled the two pomegranates that introduce themselves to him.

He had straightened up and was now in a right angle to the headboard. In a perfect position to let his lips wander right between the two breasts.

"Fuck! You just never stop being gorgeous, do you?"

Y/N rubbed her pelvis against the actor's boxers on the spot where his growing protrusion was.

"Good God, I hope you're enjoying yourself... Teasing me like that..."

Y/N continued pleasuring her cavity as she purred at Callum's words. To help her on her merry-go-round and because he was craving more, he held her by her hips, enabling circles of bliss. He felt as though he was a bull on a rodeo stand, enjoying the view and wandering on her stomach, breasts and neck.

If there was one thing Callum loved above all, it was to see Y/N being satisfied. In their sex life, it translated in him usually being aroused by the simple sight of her coming. He could come too if he saw just how great it was for her.

"You're so bloody hot!", he commented almost breathless "but I really need to feel how wet you've gotten for me"

Y/N removed just enough of his boxers to grasp the tip of his cock which she plunged into her in one swift movement and carried on riding her boyfriend"

Y/N came some minutes later, too glad that she was finally getting all the attention she deserved. When Callum joined her, he let go of Y/N as she seemed exhausting from so much riding. As she lay on the bed, he slid under the sheets, to the level of her waterfall, desperate to have a taste of both fluids.

It was Y/N's turn to pull Callum's hair to show him how she wanted to be pleasured which Callum blindly followed. Shutting his eyes, he could feel the drops filling his mouth.

His tongue found its way through the humid weather. Y/N had always loved her lover's meticulousness when it came to that subject. It was as though he was under a mysterious spell, completely in trance. He was devoted and took all his time to give her all that she deserved.

Y/N wiggled under his moving head, moaning louder and louder by every stroke his tongue was taking.

"Callum!", she cried in the night as the supporters had grown quieter.

This time around, Callum did not correct her as having her come with his Christian name on her lips was worth all the gold in the world.

#callum turner #theseus scamander #callum turner x reader #smut #second part #one shot #though in two parts #never been good with maths #plot what plot #sir kink

[redwinterroses]

RIIIIIIIIIGHT SO.

I just finished chapter 13 of Dog At The Door and holy hot cross buns batman if you're not reading this fic you NEED to. It's literally one of the best written fics I have ever read in my life and I've been reading fanfiction for over 15 years, lol.

I went back and reread the entire fic to lead up to chapter 13 and I decided to treat it like I used to treat things I had to read in college so I took notes as I went and please I am warning you this post is incredibly long. Almost 3k words. PLEASE do not hit that "read more" button unless you're good with having to scroll past it all and also spoilers ahead. Proceed with caution.

~*~

Rereading Dog at the Door reactions (spoilers, obviously):

· Doc finding Ren’s body to be cold and for a second thinking he’s actually dead—my heart

· “That’s Ren, alive and kicking.” Oh…no, Doc. No it’s not.

· The first “Where is my hand?” hits different the second time through

· Gah the ice and winter imagery ALL over the place—my English degree brain wants to watch and see if that shifts to warmth at any point as we go? Thoughts for future Red to think.

· It’s fascinating to me to see Doc constantly thrust into the prey role. This is a guy who is very much not that person normally, but something about the Red King is beyond anything he’s really encountered before—or at least not since Dinnerbone—and it pushes him into an entirely new role that he clearly chafes in

· “I should get back to work on your new arm soon,” he says, making a mental note to add claws to the fingertips. Honestly Doc why tho. XD

· “It feels like something Ren would want him to do.” </3

· Side note: I just watched Doc’s freaking hour long shulker farm vid, and that’s making it a lot easier to hear his voice in this fic

· I’m more curious about the hand.” New Ren laughs a bit at his own words, as though there’s something funny about that phrasing. I MISSED THIS LINE THE FIRST TIME THROUGH

· The bead curtain being cursed hippie treasure XD

· The fact that Doc just so quickly accepts that Ren is gone—maybe not permanently, but at least for now—is kind of heartbreaking. Because you know he hasn’t really accepted it, he’s just… deciding not to feel anything about it. Just nod and move on and pretend you don’t need to stop and cope with the possible/probable death of your best friend and the fact that Someone Else is wearing his skin. That’s so sad.

· “high-fiving the finished hand with his own metal hand.” Aww… Doccy.

· “He shoos away the images of New Ren holding him up by the throat supervillain-style and turns around.” Hmmmmmmm want that fanart. Scary New Ren/RK is good stuff. (post-chapter-13 Red popping in with a WHAT THE HECK)

· “that makes him seem like a ghost in Ren’s body.” YA KNOW. LIKE HE IS.

· Okay side note time: why is the Red King here? Ya know? Like – in 3rdLife the idea of a possessing spirit of bloodlust makes some sense. But why stick around? Was RK trying to escape the 3L server, or was this not deliberate? At what point did he take over from Ren—at Black Heart Altar? In which case, was the whole idea Ren’s to begin with, or was he influenced? Maybe it happened the first time Ren died? The Red King took over then—or at least started to? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, thoughts…

· Wait more theories—what if RK is connected to the ????? entity that spoke to Martyn when he died? In which case, cMartyn said he was considering making that canonically a Watcher (he ended up not doing it, but he also didn’t do anything that contradicted it either). I’m not saying RK is a Watcher… but boy he sure does stare a lot, don’t he.

· Holding the screwdriver like a dagger—mmmm

· Okay funny thought: all this frost, RK’s gonna need to be real careful about rust lol. And straining the metal, tbh, all that freezing and thawing is going to have an effect but the rust idea is making me laugh

· Until I realized it would look like blood and it’s not funny anymore

· “Renbob is in the beanbag stuffed next to the driver’s seat” right so is this where Renbob sleeps because I have been wondering—

· “something about having two people look like Ren when neither of them are makes Doc stop to take a shaky breath” *sob*

· “Renbob clears his throat, looking up at Doc with a smile that is so obviously fake that it hurts.” Ugh the LOT of you stop repressing everything you’ll give yourselves a collective hernia

· “he’ll probably have to break the news to the other hermits, too, Iskall and False and all the others.” All these painful lines I somehow missed the first time through

· Awww warm air comes in when Renbob opens the door—with the flowers and everything, Renbob is so easily associated with spring, I love this contrast.

· Aaand there it is, yup, RK is shocked to see his face on Renbob, and Renbob is shocked to see that this is so clearly Not Ren.

· They both recover pretty quickly, though. Survivors, both of them.

· RK calls Renbob their “ferryman” and I’m not sure if I was supposed to get “crossing the river Styx” vibes from that But I Did. (does RK think he’s dead? That they’re all dead?) (post-chapter-13 Red here with a little bit of wordless screaming.) (and also a bit of pride that I picked up on this.)

· “And what a help you’ve been! Fixing me up, replacing my hand.” Hi yes, 911? there’s a dagger stabbed into my feels.

· “he’d rather remember rage than see another person’s heart break.” Dang that’s such a raw line. Oof.

· ”the Red King says, his voice hoarse with tears.” Really interesting that this blood deity can feel such emotions—like, anger or even fear, I can get. But to see this entity upset to the point of tears is fascinating.

· “There is a crown on Doc’s workbench.” Right, yeah so like—is RK unwillingly manifesting these artifacts? Because that’s wild, man. …how long before he manifests an “enchanter”?

· “I’ve never seen it [the crown] clean before.” Okay that definitely implies that maybe RK didn’t come around until after Black Heart Altar?

· “The Red King has the crown in his lap when Doc turns back around, claws gently tracing over the engravings, leaving frost patterns behind.” I really wish I had art skills because there’s this image in my head of a drawing of the crown held in RK’s hands, with his face (one eye glowing, one in shadow) reflected in the surface, and frost patterns following behind a claw that’s daintily tracing the surface. But I can’t draw so—

· RK asks for a change of clothes. What was he wearing when they rescued him, I wonder? The Red King outfit with the fur capelet? Or Ren’s Stargazer outfit? Which begs the question: where does Stargazer fit into all this? Was Ren’s return to Hermitcraft RK free, but when he came so close to dying to Sith, RK found that as a gateway to take over? (Post-13 Red here, Looking Intently at this note.)

· Awww… the image of a one-legged RK clutching new clothes to his chest and hopping down to change in the bathroom… That’s weirdly endearing. He’s less menacing when he stands up somehow. Less lurking, maybe.

· Oooohhhhh he messed up his back sleeping on the floor. Gotcha.

· Doc keeps telling himself (and RK) that saving him and working on these parts is “the right thing to do” and while he’s not WRONG I just want to see him realize that it’s not only the right thing, it’s realistically the only thing, because if he didn’t, then he’d have to deal with the fact that he’s lost his best friend and we can’t have that.

· “I don’t need to eat” ummmmmm no hold on this definitely implies that RK is possessing a dead body and I’m not okay with that where is Ren

· LOLOL “I can’t stand to see [you do] this” is such a raw line to be about watching Doc eat cereal with his hands

· “The voice doesn’t belong to who he thinks it does.” Ugh, Doc. This isn’t the first time he’s lost a close friend to Something Else, something otherworldly.

· “All of them are waiting for him, waiting for him to do something more, something better—” aaand there it is. Doc’s characterization in this fic in a single sentence.

· Doc waking up and thinking he’s seeing Ren and RK’s hesitation and the gentle “I’m not Ren”—OH MY HEART

· RK’s coffee = Renbob’s friendship bracelets

· Randomly can I just say that I love how RK’s dialog is all in italics? It concerned me at first because I thought it was going to keep pulling me out of the narrative, but instead it really just feels right. Also I’m looking forward to the moment when he says something and it’s not in italics because it’s REN and oh my lands please give this to me I beg you (post-13 Red here with a bit more mindless screaming)

· “watch your tongue with me, Atlas, because I’m the one person you can pass the sky to.” Okay okay okay—English studies brain coming out. This suggests that there is a burden RK and Doc can share: something Doc is currently struggling against that only RK can help him with. In the moment, I don’t know if this is really fair of RK to say—after all, Doc does technically have Renbob too, if we’re just talking about Doc’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. In fact, if that’s the context, then Renbob is a much better fellow-Atlas because he and Doc have known each other much longer and they’re both dealing with the loss of Ren. BUT, knowing about the upcoming conversation where Doc and RK both realize that they’ve lost someone (Ren for Doc, Martyn for RK) this line suddenly has a lot more weight. Again, I don’t think that in that moment RK quite has the right to pull this zinger. But in later context, it turns out to be true after all. They are the only two with this particular shared pain.

· Doc upset with himself because he can’t get over his “stupid hang-ups” DOC MY LAD. “I’ve lost my best friend, you’re in his body, and I don’t know how to process any of these emotions” is not a “stupid hang-up” PLEASE stop blaming yourself for everything!?

· “I’m so tired” in the middle of his nightmare—oh my gosh. That hurts so much for some reason.

· I also very much wish I had the ability to draw the image of Doc with tears on his face, staring dead-eyed down at his workbench while RK looms over from behind, pinning his wrists to the table with one metal arm and one frost-bitten one, a look of exasperation and concern on his face. Why can’t I draw the things

· “How do you know Etho” “I watched him die.” OW ow ow ow ow

· Doc takes this as calmly as only someone used to living in a world where death has low consequences can. Oh. Oh—that means… huh. Doc isn’t used to losing people permanently on any basis, especially not death. So no wonder he doesn’t know how to process Ren being gone (I can’t bear to write “dead” there). He literally doesn’t have context for it… and what context he DOES have is like—I mean, Etho and Bdubs came back. Ouch.

· “Twenty-five.” The Red King makes the number sound like a threat. Yet another banger line I missed the first time through. Imagine waking up and thinking you’re in 3rd Life again but instead of 14 players there’s almost twice that many and you think you don’t know any of them.

· I still don’t quite understand the “when was etho added/should have known there was something different” bit or why RK is so emotional about it… but I have trust that it’ll make sense at some point. (post-13 Red: ...is this something about the fact that he thinks he's dead...so he thinks Etho has died before? Like, that 3rd Life wasn't Etho's first hardcore? ...I feel like I'm almost grasping this but I'm missing an element somewhere.)

· And now a sword. RK. My man. You need to stop manifesting things—especially when they scare the ever-living daylights out of you.

· I absolutely adore the in-universe lore that Fire Aspect is a PvP enchantment because it threatens dropped loot, and yeah I very well might steal that. (Along with something I read at one point who-even-knows-where that Knockback is a coward’s enchantment, because I love that too.)

· He really shouldn’t. / Doc picks up the sword by the scabbard and hands it to him, hilt extended. Doc you already trust this guy so much and you don’t even know it—but is it just because you still subconsciously trust the face he wears? Or is it something deeper?

· Ugh, the “I was supposed to kill someone for him” conversation/scene is SO FREAKING GOOD

· “I don’t want it. Not like the crown.” Why, though? Why doesn’t he want it? Because it’s more to do with death than kingship? OH. Oh, I hadn’t even considered that. I’ve been thinking of RK as this like, god of blood and vengeance but maybe he’s not. Maybe he hates the bloodshed (“the blood! It’s drippin’ in me eyes… I’ve been blinded by the violence…”) just as much—more?—than Ren did/would have. Huh. That’s a new facet.

· Oh my heart the “have you ever lost someone and it was your fault” line. Dagger to the feels. Dagger to the feels.

· This like… “I’m on a roll and even though I know I should stop I really don’t want to” mode? Man. That’s relatable. Especially when you’re working to avoid dealing with something else.

· “Not making it for you—it’s for Ren” oh ouch ouch ouch the denial suddenly breaks through it’s okay, Doc I’m with you on this

· The second time reading through it’s far clearer that Doc has a blind panic attack here—when he starts rambling that Ren’s coming back, he’ll be there for season eight and RK goes to…do whatever he was going to do and Doc just blanks out. The manic productivity should have been a warning sign, the poor guy is crumbling.

· “Doctor” and “he’s not sure he deserves that title right now” UGH Doc needs a hug someone please hug him and tell him it’s all going to be okay. Someone please hug me and tell me it’s all going to be okay.

· “his hand on his throat” over the scar from the Red Winter axe? </3

· “I did do that. I have done that.” RK admitting to it actually having been him in Doc’s nightmares?

· Okay sorry the conversation about beating Dinnerbone will never not be funny to me

· RK mentions that people used to call him m’lord or Ren, and then mere minutes later you have “Ren. You couldn’t save him because of me, could you?” He knows exactly what’s going on here. Not maliciously, but he’s no dense-head, he’s put the pieces together. (post-13 Red: MOST of the pieces. Most of them.)

· Watching Doc slowly stop fighting his nightmares—like, the first time, he fights. The second time, he accepts it but still struggles. And this time… this time he gives up before it even starts. That hurts, man.

· Good grief the whole “get my head chopped off” / “you really don’t want that” bit. O.O I’m not sure what emotion I’m feeling but I’m Feeling An Emotion.

· “Snow’s new. Dream’s not.” </3

· …Doc’s not gonna be a fan of snowier-snow after this trip…

· "Dr. M77" Actually he’s Doc Monster, RK, but we’ll let it go. XD

· OKAY BUT THIS EXCHANGE? The “how are you feeling” / “better” / “you’re a bad liar” / “I said better not great” that’s such a good exchange and I don’t know why every other time I’ve ever seen it used they stop at the lying accusation? Doc with the snappy comebacks, man.

· Aaah, Doc and RK, two establishment bros bonding over a shared disdain for hippies.

· The bit about the fella who wore an iron helmet and called it a powdered wig—fear is in my heart. *shoves Scar into an obsidian box and blocks it closed*

· “Who was Ren to you?” </3

· Doc is more than willing to spread the flames, to sear his loss into RK’s bones. / The king’s face stops him. Ren’s face stops him. Holy CRAP is that a good set of lines. So much going on there, and ALL of it good.

· Again. I wish I could draw. I would draw RK sitting on the edge of the bed, gently hugging a collapsed-in-on-himself Doc. </3

· “And I hate the devil that forced us apart, that mixed my blood with his.” *adds another layer to Scar’s obsidian fort*

· OKAY STARTING CHAPTER THIRTEEN I made the mistake of logging into Tumblr earlier and saw people screaming so I’m sure I’m not ready for this but here we go

· Oh no RK has been hippie-ified

· “You started a paramilitary organization because you have hay fever?” *dies laughing*

· Ugh I need to go back and watch s6 I’ve only seen the tail end of Mumbo’s side of things and there’s so much I don’t know.

· HAHAHAHAH I do know the trident bit though—

· Wait he said Scar

· PANIC

· “Kingslayer. bloodthirsty. Time King. The coward. And the mastermind behind it all, the loyal soldier to the very end, the whole damn reason either of us are in this mess.”

· HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP HOLY—

· “Is this the afterlife I deserve? After everything, this is the hell I’m going to endure?” I AM SCREAMING

· Doc pinned to the wall with ice, struggling to breathe—I CAN’T WHAT IS HAPPENING

· ((You know I’d get through this a lot faster if I stopped pausing to write reactions—))

· “A break in the ice. A whisper of spring.” Symbolism. Symbolism.

· “Ren was dead when I found him again,” NO I REFUSE TO READ THIS

· “don’t use the hand I built you to hurt yourself” DOC. SIR. MY HEART.

· RK don't run, RK get back here—what are you—

·

·

· I

· JUST

· ACTUALLY

· SCREAMED

· AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

· *several long moments of just breathing*

·

·

·

· *rereads*

· Holy crap on a garbage cracker with an extra serving of what-the-heck sauce

· REN

· REN

· Okay lol okay hahaha calming down

· I literally threw myself back in my chair away from the computer reading that last paragraph. I don't usually... physically react to things I read. LOL. Heh. I’m. Ah. I’m not emotionally invested in this or anything.

· Holy crap.

· Okay. Okay. Okay.

· Um.

· Great chapter, guys. Awesome stuff. Really good. I’m absolutely okay right now and it’s all totally fine.

· …please enjoy your break and get lots of rest and I very much look forward to the return of this fic you have no idea.

· I need to go breathe for a little bit.

EDIT: no, you know what--I'm not going to be a nice polite fangirl over here and quietly hope y'all see this I'm straight up tagging you, @fluffy-papaya and @betweenlands. THANK YOU but also how dare.

#The only reason I'm even posting this is for my own remembering later #and i guess if fluffy or solar want to see my mindless ramblings -- go nuts #long post #redwinterreacts #redwintertalks #dog at the door

[legends-live-in-memories]

“How Did All This Happen?”- A Memoire by one Marinette Dupain-Cheng 1

Soooooo I decided to write this. much longer than the other things i posted, also very tonally different. I will definitely continue that other fic tho. I was just brainstorming and now this exists. Yeah.

 without further ado

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

People Fucked Up and Now It’s All Marinette’s Mess to Clean Up I

This was not how Marinette planned for her night to go. Granted, she also could not envision it going literally any other way. The woes of making a deal with the hell-raiser himself, John Constantine, she supposes. She truly hoped Adrien was having a much better time than her with his cousin in London. After the circus that was the past three years, he deserved some reprieve, even if it was with his bratty doppelganger. Regardless, Marinette. Was. Not. Pleased. No matter how many times she thinks over her plan, recalculates every step and decision, she could not fathom this night ending well for her, or anyone really, but mostly her. And no amount of old Ladybug or Guardian luck could help her. Now, if one were to wonder what kind of tragedy had befallen Marinette on this disgraceful night, a brief history of the last three months could enlighten such a person. Or better yet, let’s start at the beginning. The Real Beginning.

So, things existed. Obviously. First there was nothing, and then, something. And as more things began to exist, as new schools of knowledge and concepts and ideas began to, well, exist, Kwamis formed as well. Each Kwami was the physical manifestation of these ideas or abstracts. Creation was the first, coupled with Destruction. And as more things began to exist, more things began needing to be protected. Thus, the Kwami of Protection. This went on. For a while. Soon thereafter there were Kwamis of all types. Jubilation, Time, Strength, etc, etc, and etc. Now these Kwamis did not linger in one spot. They roamed across the far stretches of existence and interacted with the life they found.

Some Kwamis decided to form a magical pact which intergalactic historians would later dub the Emotional Electromagnetic Spectrum. Sounds familiar? The Kwamis themselves were completely blissfully unaware of this title, lest they would have explained to these beings, Maltusians they were called, that they were not in fact, electromagnetic but more so a part of the Powers that Be. Kind of. But this side-story involves the formation of a few universally known Lantern Corps, and that is a barrel of monkeys our exasperated narrator does not want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Or ever.

Other Kwamis, who stuck close to what would become known as the Milky Way, were discovered by a mage who granted them the ability to interact with humans. This mage— and Marinette was silently cursing his descendants, herself included, for if it weren’t for this absolute mad lad, none of the subsequent events of this night would have transcribed—had bound the Kwamis to magical jewelry called Miraculouses. An interesting side effect of these Kwamis being bound to the miraculouses was that the wearer could call upon the powers of the Kwamis for their own usage. The mage feared what could become of the world if this kind of power became so easily accessible, so he created the Order of the Guardians. The Order was dedicated to training young mages to protect, wield and harvest the powers of the miraculouses. The Order swore to true neutrality; wishing not to impose their will on one side or the other, to maintain balance and to not upset the natural order of the world. 

This went surprisingly well for a few millennia, that is, of course, if you ignore the sinking of Atlantis, the extinction of the dinosaurs, the Black Plague, the creation of the Lazarus Pits, Pompeii, to name a few completely egregious instances—not necessarily in order of course—and well, the point stands that it could have been astronomically worse. Until it was.  

One young mage and Guardian in training had caused the downfall of almost the entire Order of the Guardians. All the centuries of history, teachings, artifacts and even the people at the head temple, were lost to the calamity. Dozens of Miraculous Boxes were lost, destroyed in the fray. The Kwamis themselves were relatively unaffected, being immortal and all, but the magical jewelry binding them to the earth were broken, thus those Kwamis were lost to mankind once again. Only one singular box, and the young mage himself, survived. The new Guardian of one miraculous box was left to scour the earth in solitude. Well, about as much solitude one could have with 17 pocket gods as company. The fact that the only box that survived was missing two more miraculouses caused the already stressed guardian to grey further. But that tidbit of information would be a problem for later. And for someone else entirely too. Oh joy.

But before that sequence of events, aptly named “Marinette’s Trial by Fire,” however, the young guardian had a couple more life mistakes to make before he reached his internal quota apparently. Rather than travel to another sector of the Order on the other side of the earth, this young mage stumbled upon another organization, one similar in architecture and hierarchy but a pendulum swing in the total moral opposite. Yes, that’s right, the guardian found himself upon the League of Shadows, led by Ra’s Al Ghul in his endeavor of global cleansing; by acts of ecoterrorism, but who sweats the small stuff, right? There, the young guardian, who adopted the name of Wang Fu, met his first love Ming Hong and they had a son. The son had a daughter he named Mei. Now Mei was only a few weeks younger than Ra’s Al Ghul’s grandson, Damian. Now with an appropriate heir, and someone to procreate with said heir, Ra’s Al Ghul gained a special interest in the small Fu family that originally flew under the radar of the League. 

Now this is where things continue to go downhill, but not until much, much later in this story. Ra’s Al Ghul, despite his radical ambitions, was particularly good at playing the long game and understood when he couldn’t accomplish a task directly. This being said, he recognized that, due to prolonged exposure to the Lazarus Pits, his soul could not bear the strain of being a wielder of a miraculous and so he waited. Waited until a suitable heir was sired and could copulate with an heir to the guardian of the miraculous box, desiring to create a bloodline of genetically suitable successors and wielders who were loyal to him and his cause. 

Ra’s ordered for the Fu family to have a place on his court and ordered for Mei Fu to be trained in mastering the secrets of the miraculous. And master she did. By age 6 she was fluent in the coded language of the magical text, or as fluent a 6 year old can be in any language, and she had mastered 7 out the 17 miraculouses. By age 10 she was as skilled as the grandson of the Demon Head in combat and could handle simultaneous wear of 3 miraculouses. Her training, however, had to be put on hold as somebody thought usurping the Demon Head was of the utmost importance that glorious Tuesday and staged a coup. She wished Deathstroke had lost more than an eye that day, but a girl can dream she supposes. Mei and her grandfather were separated from the rest of the League and journeyed west. Somehow they ended up in Paris, France. After one too many run ins with the authorities, Mei was removed from her grandfather, who was deemed too unfit to support her. It was a miracle he wasn’t deported. 

Mei was put into protective custody where she resided until she was 13. Recently adopted, and thoroughly done with the plebeians of her daily encounters, Mei Fu became Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of the best bakers in Paris. All was well and good for the new Dupain-Cheng until the start of the new school year. 

She met her grandfather again. And apparently he had a job for her and her soon to be new partner.

Hawkmoth, that bitch, had somehow acquired the two last surviving miraculouses and the only surviving grimoire and thought domestic terrorism was on the agenda for the next few years. Why? Because investing in a family therapist was too much of an inconvenience for local recluse, Gabriel McFucking Agreste, Marinette would shortly learn. 

After dealing with all of that and juggling between her reignited guardian training, and ‘normal’ girl life—because her parents don’t know that she’s a magical girl in the making—, Marinette was ready to sleep for a thousand years. Or commit murder. Whichever gave her enough serotonin to complete her current passion project. But, alas, no rest for the totally-over-it or however that saying goes. Because after declaring Paris safe once again, sending off her brother-in-arms, Adrien Agreste, to family in London (marginally decent but anything beats the abusive prick of a sperm donor), in waltz one drunken John Constantine.

Ah yes. Him. That absolute bastard who doesn’t deserve nice things in life. That guy.

This unpleasantry approached Master Fu and Marinette, who has been regulated to errand-girl in lieu of training, with a job that he proclaimed that only one blessed with magic, and specifically NOT connected to the Justice League could accomplish. Apparently, a group called the Cult of the Kobra resided on Santa Prisca and was in possession of a dangerous magical artifact that had been the backbone of their organization for years. Constantine came to them asking them for assistance in retrieving it as the Justice League could not interfere in the Caribbean due to new UN legislation. It was a mission of utmost urgency for he feared the cult leader, Kobra himself, was planning on enacting a ritual that could bring calamity to Earth. Which is just what the doctor ordered. Not. In exchange, he agreed to add to her magical training as while master Fu was good, he was still young when he ran away from his problems the first time and thus was limited in his magical knowledge.

That was three months ago. Three months of planning, training, and convincing her parents that letting her go on an extended retreat for an undetermined amount of time with her mostly absent biological grandfather was totally reasonable for the seventeen year old to do. Like, come on. She’s almost old enough to drink, almost ready for university and has been praised for her independence and self-sufficiency for years. She’ll be fine is what she told her parents and she was almost able to convince herself of that too. She would be perfectly fine. Right?

Wrong.

Marinette was anything but fine. She was stressed, she was tired and she was abso-fucking-lutely pissed at anything that even breathed in her direction. Why? Well that brings us back to the beginning of the story when everything on this mission did not go according to plan. So here she was along what was once upon a time the eastern coastline of Santa Prisca. Oh and look. The Junior Justice League has arrived.

Purrrrfect. 

Some one asked for a taglist. Ask and ye shall receive

@deathwishy @neakco  @ virtualreading  @f-rget-lt @your-resident-chicken-nugget

#maribat #marinette x damian #daminette #i was bored and left unattended #no salt in case you were wondering #yes i am looking at you antis who feel like stalking this tag #im not tagging characters cuz reasons #badass!marinette dupain cheng #idk what plot this is going to have or how heavy the romance is but this just exists so #i wrote this at 1 am #hdath #thats the fic tag im gonna use if i post more

[torilovestowrite]

Dabi x Reader; Try Again pt. 8

Synopsis: Years ago, (Y/n) was left by her villain boyfriend, Dabi after discovering an unexpected news. Ever since then, she never had a lover— focusing on her only son, Yuta. Later on, she meets Todoroki Touya— a new co-worker who seem to be persistent towards winning her heart and attention.

Ship: Dabi x Fem! Reader

❗❗❗Content Warning: Mentions of Abortion, Unplanned Pregnancy, Manga spoilers, Dabi is a Todoroki theory

🖤 » Chapter Navigation « 🖤

"Yuta L/n, you're not going out!" Y/n strictly reprimanded as she tried to keep her son still from his position, lying on bed with a cold towel on his forehead.

It was during a Wednesday when Yuta, y/n's son, had a fever that reached over 41 degrees. Y/n felt threatened about this because her son has never reached this temperature. It's too high— and he also stated something about his body feeling heavy. What could be happening?

"B-but... we're about to watch a movie in school today! I don't want to miss it!" Yuta began bawling his eyes out while Y/n sighed at his dramatic tone. Does it really have to be like this? Yuta has to be emotional and sensitive every time he gets sick? This only reminds her of him— the way he would caress her soft hands every time she would tend his wounds every after a tiring day— the man he used to love, Dabi, would appear to be more gentle and affectionate every time he gets worn out... or ill.

"We're going to watch a movie while you take a rest here at home, okay?" Y/n gently tapped her son's side in an attempt to make him close his eyes and sleep. "For now, take a rest. Or else, it would take longer before you could go outside."

Immediately, Yuta turned his back from his mother in an attempt to be more comfortable; and to have a good sleep. Y/n smiled at his actions. Good thing, her son has always been considerate on her hardwork and the way she disciplines him.

It wasn't too long until she heard a notification from her phone— a message coming from Touya.

touya ❣ : good morning y/n. how's ur pretty face doing?

It's been four months since y/n realized her feelings for Touya. Both of them started dating two months ago and so far, he has been understanding towards her obligations as a mother. Most of their dates included Yuta and there are times when Touya would volunteer to watch over him while she's away during her day shifts. Y/n could never ask for anything— Touya was doing his job greatly; as a boyfriend and as a paternal figure to Yuta.

you : yeah, i'm all good babe. thanks for asking. but yuta's sick rn... i dont really have anyone to take care of him and i need to go for my day shift.

touya ❣ : you want me to go for it? i mean, i only work during nights anyways

Y/n's smile lit up as she read his message. Finally! She thought. She could go to work!

you: sure thing babe 💗✨

Few more minutes, when Yuta has finally travelled to dreamland, Y/n left the house, wearing her thick f/c coat with her hair styled to become more neat-looking. Another day for work, she thought.

It's been two hours since Touya arrived in Y/n's home. Using the spare key under her house's doormat, he decided to enter her house that was silent when he went inside. Until he heard a child's high-pitched scream coming from Yuta's bedroom. His instinct caused him to immediately run towards this direction; but what he saw caused a heavy sensation in his chest. Those familiar blue flames that was once his signature— as Dabi; the heartless villain who claimed 30 innocent lives.

"U-Uncle T-Touya!" Yuta cried in panic while his right hand was burning with blue and heated fire. "W-What should I do?! M-my—"

"Breathe." Touya immediately replied as he kneeled next to him, rubbing his back with his huge and rough hands. "You have to control your breathing and your emotions. You have to control it because the more you panic, the more it will get stronger."

Yuta closed his eyes and focused in calming himself down— taking deep breaths and thinking about things that he liked in life— ice cream, Y/n, Uncle Touya, pro-heroes... all the things that makes him happy. Slowly, the fire became smaller and smaller— until nothing appeared on his hands.

"I-It's gone! The blue flames!" Yuta exclaimed as a grin crept on his face. "Did you see that awesome thing on my hand, Uncle Touya?! That must be my quirk, right?"

"Yes, it's an awesome quirk that you have." Touya smiled sadly as he stared at the young and naive child— as if he was seeing his past self; the pure child who was corrupted by his father's evil desires and deeds. It was all fun and games knowing he has an awesome quirk like that... until his father, Enji Todoroki, decided to ruin everything for him.

But he swore to be someone better than him; to be a man suitable to be called a father.

That afternoon, Y/n arrived at her home with such beautiful sight; Touya and Yuta scooped in each others' arms while the movie was left streaming. She smiled at the sight. It was so cute. For a few seconds, she almost believed that Touya was Yuta's father. The young mother couldn't help it but to take a picture of the two while having their peaceful slumber.

"I saw you," Touya spoke, "Delete it."

Y/n giggled as Touya stood up from his position as he tried to grab the phone away from her hands. It was such a cute sight. She was sticking her tongue out while she was trying to chase him. Y/n couldn't help but to feel as if they were all.. what? 17? Whatever, it felt cute, though.

"Yeah, whatever. Have that pic all you want. You can even make it your wallpaper." Y/n got her cheeks pinched by him as he gave her a light kiss on the nose. "I'm going now, sweet cheeks, I'm attending night shift for tonight."

"Sure, sure." Y/n smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek, as she watched his lean and toned figure leave their house. All that's left is her and Yuta. Slowly, his eyes opened to see his mother watching him sleep.

"Mommy?" Yuta spoke in a drowsy tone.

Y/n responded, hugging her son beside her while his eyes still looked sleepy. Seems that the sleep wasn't enough for him, huh? The young lady laughed at this, ruffling his hair, and deciding to ask him. "How was your day with Uncle Touya? Is it better than it was when you're at school?"

The young lad aggressively nodded and decided to tell Y/n the greatest thing that he discovered today.

"My quirk just manifested, ma! I have blue flames!" Yuta exclaimed as he tried to show it off with the tip of his fingers. Y/n's eyes widened at this— it created a tingling feeling in her heart. It was like a slap on her face. Yuta is really Dabi's son, isn't he?

"T-That's awesome." Y/n replied, trying to stop tears from flowing.

While her son was still busy talking about his day, her hands were able to feel something on the couch. It was... hard. She pulled out to see a black leather wallet. Did Touya forget his stuff here? Y/n sighed at his forgetfulness. Well, he's a person, she thought, so he has flaws too.

"Did Uncle Touya forget that, ma?" Yuta asked in a polite tone. "Bring it back to him tomorrow, okay?"

Y/n smiled at what he said. She really raised her son well. "Sure!"

It was night time. Yuta went back to sleep and Y/n was busy contemplating inside her room— walking back and forth; thinking about whether she should check his stuff or what.

It's not what others would think. It's just that it's been two months since they got together but Touya only says few things about himself. All she knew is that his parents are living overseas and he's left alone here. He has siblings who lived with their parents in abroad. Nothing more, nothing less.

Aside from that, it wouldn't hurt to peek just a little bit, right?

Y/n sighed as she finally came to a conclusion to check his wallet to see if there's something that would tell more about himself. It's not like she was nosy. She just wants to get to know him at a better level. He's quite of a silent and mysterious guy himself, which got the young lady curious about him.

Of course, there was nothing new; just few IDs, bunch of credit cards (which Y/n thought was odd because if he had this much money, why would he work in an old bar as a bartender), and a thin wad of cash. Nothing else— until something that was so unordinary in her eyes— fell.

Her eyes widened as she saw that memoribilia. No words could come out from her mouth. Her vision felt so dark; as if it was slowly fading; and her heart hurt so much. Only tears could come out from her eyes. No scream, no words, no phrases— simply, nothing.

"Y-you..." Her fists clenched tightly as her form started shaking— she didn't know what to feel. Is it anger, sadness, remorse— what should she feel first? She began to wail as she stared and touched at this object from the past. Whatever that happened was too painful for her to bear.

"You fooled me... Dabi."

That night, Touya was looking for his wallet. It was nowhere to be found; not even in his car. Maybe he left it at your place? Well, whatever the circumstances are, he was hoping that none of you would be able to find it. Maybe, he'd drive towards your place again and—

His thoughts were interrupted as his phone rang. The caller ID showed Y/n— and a selfie that she sent him as the profile picture. Immediately, he answered it.

"Hello, bab—"

"Don't you babe me. We have to talk." Y/n's voice sounded cold and harsh. She was angry... and he knew it. Touya knew that tone several years ago; and if he hears that, he knows that hell will break because of her wrath.

"What is it?"

"Stop acting dumb." Y/n scoffed.

"How the hell are you alive, Dabi?"

Taglist [OPEN]: @babayaga67 @marydragneell @xxtrash-kingxx @paranoiac-666 @velvet-kissesss @orenjineki @mermaid-starlet @ikita454 @yo-girl-lunar @pansexual-booknerd @daimiyu

a/n: i kinda did stop updating this but like bnha chapter 290 got me like 😭😭😭😭 dabi can i give u a hug plspslslslsl 😗😗

#boku no hero academia #bnha imagine #bnha todoroki #bnha fanfiction #bnha matchups #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou #dabi is a todoroki #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #bnha dabi x reader #dabi imagines #bnha dabi #dabi headcanon #dabi #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero fanfic #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero spoilers

[lordeasriel]

a memory: a man with a mission

Chapter excerpt from my WIP sci-fi novel, The Timekiller. If you check it out, I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback. The novel is divided into normal chapters, that follow the present timeline and its plot, and the memory chapters which are flashback chapters of different moments, like memories, telling key events from the past (and future).

--

December 23, 1946.

Duke’s powers manifested in a way he couldn’t quite understand. He was a man hailing from the far gone future, born amongst robots and artificial intelligences, raised in a world where the AI had rebelled against the humans and their oppression. He was a war child, for all intents and purposes, yet he never quite felt like a soldier. There was a scholarly aspect to him that made him stand out amongst his peers in the resistance and what granted him the alias The Duke, which was often shortened to just Duke; his name had only been known by his fiancé and a few friends, close friends.

He walked into a pub, in London, in an environment that was the most foreign thing he had ever seen, despite the fact he had been to London in his own time. He was shocked to realise his attempt to time travel that far in the past had worked, but he quickly gathered his wits, and stole clothes so he would fit in, and suddenly he blended wonderfully into the post-second war background world, with matte colours and broken buildings, yet with a spirit of renewal only known to those who have witnessed mayhem - and survived.

Doing justice to his scholarly spirit, Duke had done his research in the time he wanted to visit, and thus he knew vaguely how to communicate, and what to say and how to say it. How to dress, what to order for food and drinks, and how the culture worked. It was hard work, but he managed just fine, asking for a pint at the bar, while glancing around the place.

There weren’t many people there, but there were only a few tables vacant, despite the fact it was nearly christmas. Cold weather mostly sent the people in, couples, elderly men, veterans and so on; it was a workers’ pub, mostly, so not many posh people were to be seen. He kept a quiet, low profile, watching around, looking aimlessly. He had to wait until the far night to do what he had come here to do, so spending his time amongst folk was a good idea. He realised these people had good food and drinks and peace.

“Poor lass.” The barmaid told him, a tough looking woman with red hair, cleaning up the glasses in front of him. He raised his eyebrows, inquisitively. She nodded in a specific direction. “She’s been sitting there all day, sipping her lukewarm pint. That has to be the tenth moron who has been to nag her.”

Duke hummed, slightly uninterested, but the woman didn’t mind his lack of interest.

“Ah, she keeps on saying she’s waiting for someone, but I think her lad might have stood her up, oh yes.” Duke nodded, just to appease her sense of communication, drinking his beer quietly. “Do you know her?”

He lowered his glass, and turned to see in the direction the barmaid had pointed out. In the corner of the bar, a few meters away from him, there was a woman occupying a single table, holding a glass mug of beer with a dishonest disinterest. She was dressed simply, with a plain skirt and white blouse, her coat on the chair she was sitting, her hair done modestly, keep in those hair nets Duke thought were so funny.

She raised her eyes to him, and her bland expression disappeared, replaced by the smallest hint of a smile. She would have been in her thirties, maybe late twenties, or so he guessed, strong eyebrows and light-coloured eyes that glittered under the soft, warm light of the pub. Something about her was disconcerting, he felt as if the entire room was staring at her, as if she was the sole focus of a picture and the only thing worth looking at. She was pretty, but it wasn’t that that made her such a magnet of attention, it was something else. It scared him, astonished him. He locked eyes with the woman, and he blushed for no reason he could explain.

“Never seen her.” He said, truthfully. He turned away because the woman’s gaze was making him uncomfortable. Somehow he felt she knew what he was doing in that time period, but the mere idea sounded insane to him. How could she know?

“She’s been looking at you an awful lot, though.” The barmaid smiled at him, a bit wicked. “Hope you aren’t the married type.”

Zohariel watched him from her chair, intensely, her fingers fidgeting on her lap as she was focusing on expanding her presence so he would be drawn to her. Usually she did the opposite, quieting down her spirit so people’s lives wouldn’t get caught in the strength of her being, but this time she wanted him to notice her. She needed him to, otherwise he would commit the worst mistake of his life.

He looked, at last, confused and intrigued. No doubt he had a dozen questions, and no doubt she could have answered them patiently and carefully and gently, but he had a determination in his eyes that made her wary. One tiny wrong move, and the timeline would’ve gone to hell and Zohariel would be in an even bigger mess. She was intent on avoiding that. Unlike him, she knew who he was and his entire fate, but she never shared that with him, not until a long time in the future.

He resisted her presence, as much as he could. She had expected that. He was strong-willed and his abilities had a similar root to hers, no doubt her own fault. He sideeyed her from his place, wary; while her presence was strong thanks to her different frequency, she couldn’t control how people reacted to it. Some were attracted to her, some were terrified, some hated her on principle; it was a roussian roulette of psychology and emotion. Zee was beginning to feel hopeless when he finally moved towards her table, two mugs of cold beer in hand and he stood in front of her, his jacket too big for him, a clear sign those clothes didn’t belong to him.

“Do you mind?” He asked, quietly, almost shyly. It was rather unbecoming of him: she has expected him to be more forceful.

“Not at all.” She gestured with her chin to the chair across her.

Everyone at the pub watched as that strange fellow, for no apparent reason, sat down with that even stranger woman, whose attention had been craved by many, all whom she denied politely, so gently it was nearly cruel.

He slid the mug at her, pacifyingly. She let go of her empty one and closed her grip on the new one, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

“Rumour has it you have been dumping men left and right, tonight.” He said, taking a sip from his mug, his eyes locked onto hers. There was faint music playing in the background, an old tune, filled with white noise. The conversation resumed as Zee toned down her presence as much as she could.

“I enjoy the loneliness.” The corners of her mouth twitched up; he observed her carefully. She knew he was trying to figure her out; people from his time spot were terribly suspicious of anything odd.

“Yet, I’ve been told you can’t take your eyes off me.”

“You’re an odd one.” She said, jokingly, but there was enough truth in it to satisfy him. It didn’t, however.

“So are you.” He crossed his arms over the table, and she leaned in to whisper back at him.

“And together, the two of us make quite a pair in this trivial place.” She tilted her head. He hummed, the closest thing to a laughter he could give her. She leaned back on her chair, her drink in hand. “You look like a man on a mission, if you don��t mind me saying it.”

He hummed again, and his eyes lost focus and he was invaded by a sadness she was well familiar with. He wouldn’t know, of course; there was so much he didn’t know.

“You have no idea, miss.”

“Oh, I might.” She blinked slowly, but he barely reacted. He didn’t believe her, and she could scarcely blame him. Most time travelers struggled in their first months, even years; it was not the sort of thing one could easily adjust to. But Zee didn’t have time to do things subtly; Duke was about to make a very common mistake between time travelers who just discovered their powers: he thought he could change history. “Tell me, what brings you here?”

“Just passing by.”

“How vague! You sound as if you don’t want to talk, yet you’re the one who approached me.” Her amused tone sparked something in him, but by his attitude, it was probably something bad.

He looked at her, puzzled, baffled. She knew how this conversation would follow, it always happened the same way, the few times she had done it before, when she was still with the League. I don’t know why I did it, he would say, his senses betraying him, his mind being engulfed by the everlasting presence of her high frequency.

Being from another universe, Zohariel’s atoms vibrated in a frequency suited for her own universe, and her frequency was so high that in the universe she lived in, she disturbed the natural order of things. Some resisted it for longer, like Duke, but it was pointless; in the end, she could change their lives dramatically by simply existing in the same vicinity for long enough.

“I don’t know why I did it.” He said, looking around, carefully. “You were looking at me.”

“Was I?”

“Yes. A lot. Why?”

“I don’t know, I do a lot of things for no good reason.” She finished her glass and put it down with a soft noise. Her eyebrows had a crease between them, more about doubt than confusion. “You may not want to hear it, but I have some advice for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. That which is consuming you right now, it is the sort of ailment that afflicts every one of us. You don’t believe I understand, I know, but I do." She sighed when he shook his head. "Grief is overwhelming. It feeds off our energy, our hopes, our fears. But it will pass, eventually, or at least fade to something bearable. Until then, you must persevere."

"How do you know I'm grieving?" There was a legitimate curiosity in his question.

"It's in your eyes." It was true, anyone who looked at him would have seen the pain he was in, but she knew more than just that. She knew everything and more. My responsibility, she often repeated to herself, my fault. Everything he was and would be and do was on her head and she wanted to make sure he didn't do anything stupid. "All over your face. You could use a shave, no offense. I like the beard, but these folks… They're on a different time."

"More free advice? Who would have thought?" He mocked, but there was very little malice in his attitude. He thought of her as odd, quirky. A weird woman in a weird time spot.

"What can I say, I appreciate being helpful and advice from me is a common item to spread around." She raised her eyebrows, amused. "I hope you will heed my words."

"I don't believe you told me your name."

She smiled, sweet and mischievous.

"While my advice is free of charge, my name is a luxury item, in this silly metaphor." She tapped at his hand, gently, and he pulled away as if she had given him a shock. He checked his watch and she observed, quietly, hopeless, intrigued. He brushed his thighs before he stood up, and Zohariel thought he looked exhausted.

He must be, she thought, he probably has no idea how to properly time travel.

The first mistake of a rookie was to go back or forth in time without mastering their powers, which could also be translated to, without knowing how to go back to their time spot. They'd get stuck, and create anachronisms which would then trigger the League. If they did little damage and were untrained and not dangerous, the League would do nothing more than fix the issues, and give them a reprimand and invite them in - very few people refused an invitation like that. However, as Zohariel knew because she had used the League's rating system, Duke was to be considered a red alert threat; he was an anachronist who would stop at nearly nothing to achieve his goal and neither would the League. Worst fate was to have his memories deleted and have him do mild paperwork, while keeping him on his own time spot. It was cruel, in Zee's opinion; worse even than just erasing his existence entirely.

"I appreciate your kindness, but you don't really understand." He nodded before walking out of the pub. Zee watched, almost as if that was a film.

She knew where he was going and she knew she had to stop him before the League did.

#my*writing #writers on tumblr #scifi #writeblr #writblr

[imagineredwood]

Request: Imagine the Sons learn that a new patch is on the Autism Spectrum.

Pairing: Sons x Male reader (platonic)

Warnings/author’s note: I sat on this request forever. I tried to keep it relatively simple because those who are on the Spectrum can be so different and never fit a mold and I worried it would be easy to accidentally go off in a direction not where the reader actually was. I never got specifics from the person who requested so I used my own judgment and figured that he would likely have less severe manifestations that would be clear as to what he has or would’ve possibly prevented him from being patched in in the first place. I’ve dealt with people on the spectrum that you don’t know until they tell you and then there’s my cousin who basically ticks every box of what society sees as a stereotypical autistic person down to the hand/arm flailing. So I tried to make this one with a common manifestation in hopes that it was more inclusive. 

Huge thanks to the precious @breanime who gave me the plot for this because I really was struggling with this one. Thanks again mama ❤️

Word count:1.4k

 “Alright. If we’re all in agreement, let's get this shit on the road.”

Jax grabbed the gavel and raised it up, your shoulders quickly tensing in anticipation as the hammer was held high. Jax began to bring it down and as much as you tried to prepare for it, tried to control your face and not let the discomfort show, it was to no avail. As the harsh hit sounded, you flinched as if you hadn’t been ready for it. You recovered quickly, clearing your throat and trying to shake it off, your eyes catching Juice and Chibs from across the table. Chibs looked away back to the president but Juice stayed. His eyes were on you, a curious look on his face that was quickly erased and replaced with a smile once he saw you looking at him. You returned the smile, Juice being one of the Sons you were closer to. 

Even if he didn’t know about your disorder, you had always been able to relate with him more. You knew about his OCD, pretty much everyone in the club did. It was just a part of who he and it was never a topic for discussion. It was just an aspect of a member that made him a little different than everyone else. It wasn’t seen as a bad thing and you could only hope that when you finally came out and told them you were on the spectrum, they would view it and you the same. You were a good Son and had earned your patch just like anyone else. You had overcome cleaning toilets and kitchens, doing grunt work while everyone else got to enjoy their time. You had overcome that all and had earned your patch. Now the last hurdle was overcoming that godforsaken gavel and the hellish noise that came with it.

Everyone scooted back their chairs and stood from the table, starting to file out of the chapel and back into the main area of the clubhouse. Juice came up behind you and clapped you on the back, tossing an arm around your shoulders. Even if Jax was your sponsor, Juice was the one that had made you feel like a brother before everyone else.

“How you doing man? You good?”

You grinned and nodded, throwing your own arm around him.

“Good as ever, brother.”

Juice nodded once again and patted your back twice before pulling away.

“Jax said he wants you to ride down to Lodi with him and Chibs.”

“Got it.”

You nodded in acknowledgment and started to head out of the clubhouse. Chibs and Juice walked slowly, purposefully falling behind so that they could speak. Once they know you were far enough out of earshot, Juice spoke.

“Did you see it?”

The older Son nodding and looking over at Juice.

“Aye. He hates that gavel like Tiggy hates dolls.”

Juice nodded, happy that Chibs had paid attention like he had asked. Juice had noticed two weeks ago about your aversion to the gavel slamming but he knew that no one else had. Ever the observer, Juice had made it a point to pay even closer attention after and had verified that the sound of the gavel was something that got under the new patched skin like nothing else. There was such discomfort in his face for that split second after that it almost appeared like he was in physical pain. Juice had asked Chibs to pay attention in church next time and now he had seen it too.

“The lad looks like he wishes he could just up and leave the chapel. Maybe he’s got PTSD or something and those noises get under his skin.”

Chibs and Juice continued to walk, getting closer to their bikes and Chibs pushed his shoulder into Juice’s.

“I’ll talk to Jackie boy, see if I can get him to ease up on the gavel. Lord knows that shite gives me a headache as it is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Later that day, Chibs had spoken to Jax as he’s said he would and run their observations by the Pres. As the week went on, Jax had remembered to bring it down much more softly. It wasn’t nearly as loud as it usually was, but Jax had made it a point to watch and sure enough, even with the much lighter approach you still flinched. Afterward, both Chibs and Juice had agreed that it had been much less intense, the look of panic not as pronounced. Jax took note and the next time they’d had church, he had basically tapped the stand as if he was just trying to squish an ant. The truth was, it was more the motion and action of bringing down the gavel that held the importance, not the loudness. Jax was much gentler and he kept watch that time, pleased that there was only the tiniest squint of your eyes. Practically unnoticeable unless you were looking for it. You caught his eyes, realizing what he was doing and gave a half-smile, the President returning it.

As time went on, the Sons made it a point to change what they could. They adjusted as necessary so that there wasn’t as much sensory input. Unnecessary slamming of doors stopped, the strobe light in the corner that they sometimes put on during parties was taken to storage, and they were careful to step in whenever too many people wanted to approach you and talk at once. They did what they could to help you, never once showing any irritation and never asking you about why you reacted to things the way that you did. They simply adjusted to make sure that their new brother was comfortable and comfortable you were. You hadn’t experienced any sensory overload the entire month and with the reminder about church tonight, you had pulled Jax to the side and asked if you could speak to everyone once church was over. Jax had agreed and now here you were, sitting in your chair at the table.

“Now before we wrap up, our newest member has something he wants to say.”

Their eyes all turned to you and suddenly you wondered if this was a bad idea. You hadn’t accounted for how it would feel being the complete center of attention and you stumbled.

“Uh, yeah. I uh…I just wanted to,”

You swallowed and looked to Juice who gave you a strong nod and smile. He didn’t know what it was that you were going to say but he offered you strength anyway and you took it.

“I assume you all have talked to each other about how I don’t like loud sudden noises. I can tell that you’ve all tried to bring it to a minimum.”

The members around the table all nodded, no judgment on their faces, simply curiosity.

“I appreciate it. I do, really. Loud noises and light changes just mess with me and I know that you guys have gotten a handle on it for me, but you don’t really know why.”

You looked around and your eyes landed on Jax who had his brows furrowed, equally as curious about what you were going to say as any of his other men sitting around him.

“You can tell us.”

You gave a nod and figured it would be easier to just get it out rather than continuing your preamble.

“I have Autism Spectrum Disorder. It’s a developmental thing. I won’t get all into it but that’s why I can’t stand sudden changes in my senses. It just throws me off. But that’s why.  Its…it’s the Autism.”

All the Sons at the table nodded, looks of understanding on their faces now as they were able to put a reason to the behavior. Looking over, you saw Juice with a smile, offering a small thumbs up. You chuckled and gave him a thumbs up yourself, looking back over at Jax when he began to speak.

“Well thank you for telling us. It doesn’t matter to us, we just wanted to make sure you felt as comfortable here as the rest of us. Knowing this now, we can figure out what works and what doesn’t to make things easier. You’re our brother and a damn good Son. We’re gonna look out for you no matter what.”

There were smiles all around the table as Jax gently banged the gavel and everyone stood, offering you strong hugs. They welcomed you in your entirety into their club, lives, and hearts and made sure you knew that you were up to par with the rest of them. They loved you as a brother not despite your disorder, but because it made you who you were, the newest member of the family.

#sons of anarchy #chibs telford #juice ortiz #Jax Teller #sons of anarchy imagine #SAMCRO #soa x male reader

[nobody-knose--archive]

so guess who bought complete demos today on a whim

yeah i wasn’t expecting this one to be over as quickly as it was either. have your liveblog

-complete demos. i bought it today & already forgot the tracklist. listening to it on the mp3 player i got for hmcrmshcidshdamsth because why not. makes pausing/typing easier that's why

-who the heck just coughed

-good lord the mixing is. and boy that's steve drumming isn't it. wow

-i mean we've got the stereo panning just like ever but this is incredibly rough. they are true babies aren't they

-oh those flutes are amazing what the hell. can people stop yelling in my individual ears

-and there's the rough megaphone. it's so incredibly clear that these aren't studio recordings but like. still tally hall!

-i think i'm finding many of these a little too funny but gotdam you're pitchbending your own voice do you really expect that to not sound so goofy at such a high pitch

-oh we're not slowing down at all, this is the same tempo as before for sure

-the flipping around audio channels is very not good at all when it comes to disguising the cuts between takes

-a sculptor you say? (is that one in the later versions? i don't remember it at all)

-nothing but rob's voices in the background and maybe 1 or two from red. no ross bits whatsoever. that's wild

-quick move into the greener intro and even quicker movement into greener itself

-well those are extra harmonies. interesting that they removed them for later versions because they're not bad, maybe a little out of place though

-honestly the biggest difference in steve vs ross drumming seems to be more a difference in the quality of the drums themselves. or the recording software but that applies to everything in this album

-it's painfully obvious that everything was recorded in really different circumstances & not mixed professionally and yep. complete demos alright. not inaccurately named in the slightest

-reminds me of the beta versions of g&e songs we heard live before they appeared on the album, makes me wonder if we could've gotten an admittedly complete demos for g&e somehow

-anyway these little different synths-

-hello there rob. alternate bridge. i have remembered this is a thing. something about tissues? a shoulder to cry on? cool

-yeah the little different synths do capture my attention from time to time

-and a basic piano for the outro? huh. sure gives it a different tone alright

-hm? who's that right at the end there- ooh! wtth time! and this still has steve in it doesn't it?

-generally more enthusiasm when it comes to that T, wonder what lost him attention in later years

-boy is that beatboxing weirdly mixed.

-lawn

-well this chorus is actually rather snazzy. the vocals seem better mixed than anything else i've heard in this album

-"who's to blame?" that's like the 4th time now i've heard someone's random voice that i can't recognize. ...it couldn't be steve, could it? i am now aware i have absolutely no clue what his voice sounds like but that seems like it could fit. hm

-zubin sounds really unenthusiastic here. just faintly unenthusiastic all over the place. still sounds more like "badiggle" than anything else

-oh shit they're falling down a well

-red's bit is hella unchanged other than the direct invasion of my individual ears & extra megaphone useage (i really wish the megaphone became more of a tally icon than it did but that's neither here nor there)

-it's rather more barebones though. less andrew keys in general. the calliope-reminiscent synth he uses is different i suppose.

-they did more stuff with funny crowd voices i think i've noticed. playing around with falsetto, as a college band dude might do

-ok yeah steve is a worse drummer. don't ask me what made me change my mind but i did

-wow a crowd that can consistently clap on the 1-2-3-4? how utterly unrealistic

-no wonky wild & weird intro to taken for a ride because i don't think it's on this album. understandable, i can't imagine what sort of wild hell the vocoder would be if it was attempted this early in its lifespan

-1st 2 piano chords of just apathy has me thinking of i know your name (deporitaz ver.) which is certainly as good a start to a song as any

-extended piano intro has me thinking of the ending of mold en mono but nope here's rob's voice to completely knock that impression out of the water

-ohoho? rob cantor swearing momence? i hadn't realized there'd be this many lyric changes

-interestingly enough this track doesn't seem horrendously mixed so far- nevermind that guitar/piano together is way too loud

-the guitar itself does have a pretty cool unique sound. obviously they hadn't had any access to string instruments at this point so given that those're the main thing separating this song from your average sade rock ballad there aren't a whole lot of notable differences here other than said guitar

-very different tone to this lil bridge. faintly reminiscent of weezer but it's not like i know anything about weezer

-sounds like the same synth from wtth being used in the bg there. what, did they have just that limited a selection so as to need repetition that frequently, or did they really like how it sounds? hard to tell with 200 (uhhhh) 4 college band dudes

-and right into two wuv. yes i had heard there's no haiku in this one but i forget what else will be missing. not sure if anything else will other than hidden in the sand. they would have ruler of everything, right? and a track that appears here but not any other albums? something like that i think

-more of that piano in the bg and more of mildly unenthusiastic zubin singing. different melody for said singing but it's not much of a secret that these guys were more untrained vocalists at this time

- .subsides?

-this chorus sounds significantly more laid-back than the later version

-the extra piano part sure moves this piece way further away from "rock love song" & way closer to "andrew horowitz song", especially that lil flourish where a bee buzzing might otherwise be

-ooh! andrew! he speaks! so does zubin! this song's two olsen boys coming in for a weird bridge bit! hell yeah oh this is adorable

-"because there's 2 of them :}"

-hm. are they actually just removing various parts because they don't have the technological capabilities to do a straight fadeout here? got dam

-i suppose letting zubin do a final solo-ish cadence works too

-uh- say it ain't so‽ w. no this is stationary love, the song that appeared here & nowhere else. cool, cool. strange but cool i guess

-i guess that can explain the multitude of weezer comparisons made for these lads. it's certainly there. honestly andrew was the only thing keeping them from being true weezer successors

-pure acoustic guitar thus far. this is my first time hearing this song of course & it seems like a pretty typical rob "homophonic heterophobic" cantor song

-nothing but acoustic guitar. nothing but rob vocals. nothing but alloromanticism. guess what! it's not my cup of tea! however i can't help but think if this song was worked on more, fixed up a la either mmmm release, with some more andrew/red touches, i could enjoy it some more

-not even any drumming. the simplicity could easily explain why it wasn't played live very often at all

-so the next thing i expect is some very funky & very weird spring and a storm which should highlight steve's (worse) drumming more than anything else i'm sure

-nevermind banana man's just getting slapped directly in here out of order compared to the later mmmm releases. this version i have indeed heard before because it's the version used in the music video

-therefore i have very little to say about it i haven't said on any of the other banana men. or other tracks on this album. the intrusions of vocal harmonies seem jarring because they're not mixed professionally, an effect that's only enhanced by the stereo panning & intense reverb

-this song really didn't change all that much over its lifespan, did it? vocal flairs were redone, but relatively few harmonies were added/removed, i don't think things like the bridge(s) were modified severely. not as noticeably as any of the other songs, at the very least

-i'm pretty sure i can hear andrew's voice in there but beyond that this is severely unsettling

-back to the chorus wahoo. relievingly  familiar territory

-get out of my left ear hawaiian guitar- wait a minute are my earbuds on wrong

-no i'm good

-oh holy shit i forgot this had to be somewhere didn't it‽ i know it's just the same! ok ok

-i've heard this one but only because i had no idea it was from complete demos, it's like rather polished too so i had never considered it would be on an unpolished album like this. i also had no idea that was goddam steve drumming in there too hot damn

-and this is the only recording of it‽ that's wild i always thought it was redone at some point & just kinda. manifested in one of the vague ways miscellaneous high quality tally hall songs do

-it's another romance one but the guitar arpeggios and extra layers give it a pass in my book. man i should watch the music video for it shouldn't i

-i still think it's utterly wild how tally hall played this at an actual high school's homecoming once. wouldn't that just blow your mind

-there's not a major difference between how it's performed here & what i've heard of it in from the occasional live performance, which is making me realize i should watch more live performances of this song

-angstier prequel to hidden in the sand

-or sidequel maybe. depends really. we can tell whatever stories we like

-did my hidden in the sand sotry come out of the queue yet? i feel like i queued it a while ago but also like y'all would've said something if you'd seen it

-bit slow paced innit. much like everything else in this album, it would have gained much from a professional studio treatment, but its mixing & general quality is still surely the best out of everything i've heard so far

-working your falsetto there aren't you my dude? ooh boy

-ruler of everything.... so no spring & a storm? >{

-yeah. ok. weird glockenspiel. almost sounds like a music box

-no vocoding either! i just realized that's a thing here! curious. and... those are some heavily wonky sfx in the background

-who's singing those aaaaas anyway? it's not a chorus which i thought could surely be handled and there's really minimal reverb too; strange considering not only is reverb a jh trademark but easily doable here

-the piano synth used is mostly identical to the 05 mmmm- oh holy shit there's different lyrics & they're being beamed directly into my skull

-even more nonsensical & it's because you can hear them hella easily too. that backwards segment did not need to go on as long as it did. also

-so no zubin vocals? >{

-slapping 5 billion vocal effects on doesn't make up for a lack of the best singer in this damn band

-especially because he sounds reminiscent of goddam fred. being fred before fred was even a thing. oh how accursed

-quiet down your guitars when you're singing shouting through a megaphone if you please

-and there's the earstrain-ass reverb + vocoding on the flibbity jibber jabber reprise. i feared as much would happen. doesn't sound horrible i just need to turn down the volume on my mp3 player

-honestly thing whole thing isn't bad at all in the sense that it's mostly just strongly different from the later versions & lacks zubin

-lease stop yelling though my dude schwiggling your voice like that isn't always a good thing at high volumes

-is that the end? are we.... at the end? i heard that's the name of some song from like sketches or something

-no. how silly of me to assume as much. anyway my dude needs to fix up his ukulele this one sounds like shit

-no vocal effects makes me realize how few times we got this one live-

-now what would you call a wonky little transition like that? puts a smile on my face, even if it does take me by surprise at the same time

-but at least one of the times this was done live featured casey shea

-now for the love of god i already hate the ending of something glowing (view-monster) for its weird-ass asmr finale don't reverse someone's cough & twiddle your ukulele strings directly into my right ear to end an otherwise really nice version of hidden in the sand if you please. oh mama mia. good night

#tally hall #loolin liveblogs #joe is mentioned sometimes but not by name fyi #tis i #as usual it's recommended that you listen to the album in question as you read to get a better idea of the context #because 9 times out of 10 i won't tell you it #i feel like i come off as slightly negative for much of this. what can i say complete demos is an album of amateur demos #the songs aren't as good as their later counterparts by nature & that's all i ever have to say #to the world and back again

[donatello-writes]

Not Quite Human, Part III - Donatello x Reader

Part II can be found here --> (x)

Part IV can be found here -> (x)

Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much ashamed of my exchange: But love is blind and lovers cannot see.

-The Merchant of Venice

Trembling still, Donatello started backing away again slowly with intent to abscond through the window behind him. Not seeing the chew toy in his path, he tripped over it and fell backwards, and he kept falling...and falling...The vision of your fear-stricken face at the forefront of his mind. Awakening with a start, he sat up in his bed and buried his face into his hands. 

"It was...just a nightmare?" He asked himself in shallow breaths, shaken from how real the illusion felt. Taking a few moments to find calm, he finally rose from his bed to go about his routine. As the day wore on, the genius became caught up in his work, and lost track of time. Before he knew it, he was already running late for his date with you. 

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

Your nerdy sweetheart waved to you as he ran up, this time he came wearing a new and intriguing accessory which promptly caught your attention, "I like your goggles, very steampunk." Surprised, he felt the top of his head to find that he'd forgotten to take them off. So accustomed to having his goggles on all the time, he didn't even notice that they were still there. He was honestly shocked that this had not happened sooner. With a small smile, he prepared to humble brag about his creation.

"You make fun, but these are actually functional," He stated matter-of-factly while pushing his glasses up his nose. When you gave him a look of skepticism, he removed the item from his head and held it out to you. "Would you like to test them out?" He offered, trying his best not to appear too overly confident as he did so. 

Laughing incredulously, you humored him, and donned the apparatus. Much to your amazement, they were fully operational. The invention provided biological breakdowns of various objects within it's range. When you turned your gaze to Donatello, he was careful to avoid your line of sight. For just a few seconds, his chemical make-up flickered before your eyes as you managed to catch a glimpse of him through the lenses. 

The information disappeared before you could read it as your lanky beau slipped behind you and attempted to pluck the gadget from your head. Removing them yourself, you held the invention out just far enough to keep it from his grasp. The device listed so much data at once that it was difficult to fully absorb. However, one thing in particular stood out...His heat signature, it was far too low for a human being. You stored that information into the annals of your mind for future contemplation.

Mouth agape, you began your adulation, "You...made these?! They’re incredible!" You exclaimed as you proceeding to marvel at the technical intricacies of the small apparatus. 

He chuckled heartily at your response as he pursued the repossession of his belonging, "Try not to sound so shocked, I'm an...inventor, of sorts." You swatted away his hands and released a haughty laugh. 

"Alright, give them back, you cannot be trusted with those!" He finally demanded, and you continued to deny his request, holding them behind you with a firm shake of your head. 

"No way, they're mine now!" You refused him once more, and the two of you continued to wrestle for the trinket; all the while laughing hysterically. The young man's chortle quickly turned into snorts as he continued to reach for his possession. 

"That is insanely adorable," You complimented his dorky laughter and his face became flushed. 

The position in which the two of you had found yourselves was incredibly romantic, and his heart fluttered in his chest. Only mere inches separated your lips from meeting. Locked in a introvert's stale-mate, you both waited for the other to make a move. Despite his outwardly human appearance, Donatello still felt like a mutant. He couldn't believe that someone as attractive as you would ever want to kiss someone like him. He especially didn't expect you to reciprocate if he were to attempt a lip lock with you, but that fact failed to quash his yearning. 

Being very methodical, it was unlike the genius to act on impulse. He would always plan out a strategy before taking action to ensure the most favorable outcome. However, at that moment, he threw caution to the wind. He knew that if he didn't act now while he had the perfect opportunity, he never would. As if you both were dancing, he held you in a dip and slowly moved in. Your widened eyes followed his lips as they lingered longingly over yours. He wanted to kiss you, but hadn't the courage. Shying away at the last second, he planted a gentle kiss on your cheek.

In an act of bravery fueled by need, you decided to take his action further. It was just a quick peck, but the spontaneity of the gesture roused something deep within Donatello. A shudder of anticipation suddenly ran throughout his body. What followed was a low, mellifluous, churr that welled up from his chest. The unexpected vocalism caused both of the young lovers to flinch. The amorous lad reflexively gasped as his mind quickly placed the sound, making you fear that you had been too forward. 

"I'm sorry!" You panicked, breaking the embrace, and taking a few steps away from him. Unsure of what else to say, you waited for his response on held breath.

"Y/N, don't be sorry! It was...nice." He said dreamily, unable to forget the softness of your lips on his. In the back of his mind, he was concerned about his clearly inhuman bodily hiccup. Thankfully, you didn't appear to be too concerned about it. Not even Donatello, himself, was aware of this uncontrollable trait. The braniac knew actual turtles churred when mating, but never thought he'd exhibit it; writing it off as an impossibility, given that he was part human. He wondered why it never manifested before now. Perhaps the emotional connection that he shared with you drew it out.

But the two of you weren't even close to engaging in what was scientifically considered to be mating. It was merely a kiss, and a chaste one at that. Admittedly, he was getting hot and bothered from that alone, with the help of his imagination. When his mind fixated on the idea of the two of you being intimate, his face turned red. Another humm emitted from his body, this time much louder. It served as a rude awakening from his daydream. That one was impossible for you to miss, and you gave him a vexed look.

The infatuated young man's blissful expression quickly fell as he searched his mind for a response, "That was...my...stomach! I'm starving! A-are you hungry? Do you want to go and get some food? I'm thinking Italian," His words stumbled out feebly, eyes refusing to meet yours. Meanwhile, all you could do was guffaw at his odd reaction to something as normal as stomach rumbling. 

"What's inside that stomach of yours? A zoo?" the well-timed joke lifted the awkwardness of the situation, and successfully calmed your beau's nerves. This was feigned ignorance, however, as you perceived something strange in his so-called stomach noises; but you chose not to broach the subject, as he appeared to be extremely self-conscious about it. 

The sounds were far too guttural to be of the stomach, they almost sounded...bestial. You'd heard a similar sound before, but couldn't place it. Deciding that you needed to investigate further, you returned to the reality from which your mind had wandered. Donatello was guiding you along as he prattled away about this amazing Italian restaurant that he loved, which just so happened to be nearby. This was a insubstantial attempt to distract you from what had just occurred. 

Stopping without warning, you brought your chatty date to a halt as well. The bespectacled boy turned to you in confusion, "Is everything alright? Why'd you stop all of the sudd-" not allowing him to finish his inquiry, you threw your arms around his neck, and pulled him into a kiss. Though surprised, he hesitantly embraced the sudden display of affection. Shaky hands meeting your waist, and resting there apprehensively.

Curiosity got the best of you, as you tried to draw out that unusual sound from him again. You'd noticed that it previously happened during your close encounter earlier, and decided to test the theory. When the result that you expected failed to occur, you released him, trying to mask the disappointment you felt in the experiment's failure. 

Perhaps it really was his stomach after all, you resolved to put it to rest...for the moment. Donatello gave you a look of befuddlement, but swiftly picked up on your motivation after brief contemplation. While the likelihood of you coming to the conclusion that he was a giant mutant turtle was statistically improbable, giving you a cause for suspicion still wasn't good.

The brainy young man was partially impressed that you'd gathered so much information from such a quick, and unpredicted irregularity. This was truly unsurprising, though, he knew that you had a brilliant mind. Donatello cursed his biological makeup, his errant turtle moan was costing him dearly. 

Sudden booms of thunder offered a perfectly timed distraction from the shenanigans at hand. Darkened clouds swirled in the distance, threatening a coming storm. Exchanging glances of concern you both agreed to seek cover, and the aforementioned dining establishment was the perfect place to go. 

The eatery was everything that Donatello had promised and more. The two of you indulged in pasta, delightful conversation, and of course...tiramisu. Upon finishing your meal, you walked outside together to discover that it still had yet to rain. And the threat was still promising, as the sky remained a deep purple. This unforeseen weather complication put a kibosh on your outdoor date plans. Given the circumstances, the two of you agreed to cut the date short. Much to the dismay of both parties. 

As per usual, your date bid you goodnight outside of your high rise apartment, being far too shy to invite himself in. Glancing at him flirtily, you offered hospitality, "Would you like to come up to my place?" 

He shrank at your inquiry, knowing full well that he only had an hour or so left until he changed back into he old turtle self. That wasn't much time in the grand scheme of things, and he simply didn't want to risk it. The once distant rumbling suddenly grew louder, and raindrops began to fall, swiftly escalating into a downpour. Hand-in-hand, you ran for shelter at the door of your building. The space was barely enough to cover you both.

"Wow, these rom-com clichés follow you like a shadow, huh?" You tittered as the two of you huddled together underneath the small overhang, nearly soaked to the bone; bodies firmly pressed against one another in order to fit. The intimate proximity enticed romantic ventures, chests rising and falling with synced breaths. Desire swirled in his golden eyes, and at that moment, he didn't overthink. Instead, he took your lips in his with adrenaline-fueled confidence. Impassioned and deep, it felt as though the storm had stricken you both with it's threat. 

An electricity passed between your bodies, coursing through, and enlivening you with each traded kiss. Having no prior experience in kissing wasn't too much of a problem for the mutant in disguise, it was simply the proper application of jaw mechanics and tongue movement. In technique he was prepared, but what he wasn't prepared for was the passionate intensity of the experience. He felt as though his heart would break free from his rib cage at the rate it was beating. When you came up for air, all that you could do was utter a single word with shaky breath...

"Wow." and when you stumbled back a bit, he caught you, an unfaltering smile lighting up his features. You then cupped his face with both hands and locked eyes with him as you prepared to deliver the most unparalleled of witticisms.

"I'm cashing in my raincheck." You voiced with a prideful grin, and your beau stifled a laugh. The cleverness of your one-liner was undeniable. He couldn't resist such a convincing argument, especially not after that kiss. 

"Okay, but I can only stay for one hour!" Donatello stated his time limit decisively, and you nodded in agreement. 

Together, you headed up to the apartment and made your way inside. Various framed posters lined the corridor of the entrance, all from iconic horror and fantasy films. The first was The Wolfman, followed by Creature from the Black Lagoon, Pan's Labyrinth, and finally, Frankenstein. You watched as your guest scanned the hangings with delight, and continued leading him to the main room. It was spacious and well decorated with paintings, and knick-knacks, but not overly cluttered. Several art supplies laid on the tables, and there was even a sewing machine on it's own desk. 

"Wow, you're quite the jack of all trades, huh?" He chuckled as he gestured to the Singer Quantum Stylist 9985 in the corner.

"Yes, I dabble in many hobbies." You answered with a cheeky smile.

The young man's eyes continued to travel the room in awe before finally settling on one painting specifically. A relatively large oil painting that was hard to miss, but not because of it's size. The subject matter was of particular interest to the turtle in human’s clothing. On it was a woman with a sea monster, the two of them exchanging a deep loving gaze as they floated within the murky depths of the ocean. Recognizing it immediately as the final scene from The Shape of Water, Donatello smiled wide.

Drawing close for a better look, he couldn't hide his appreciation for the work. He knew the patience that it took to paint with oils, but moreso, admired the piece because it gave him...hope. Becoming entranced, he absendmindedly muttered under his breath, "For loue is blynd alday and may nat see." 

You barely picked up what he'd said was it...Latin? No, Middle English. Watching as he marveled at the work you let out a muffled chuckle. His facial features spoke volumes: amazement, respect, and something more. There was an evident understanding in his expression, gaze fixed on the monster, as if they shared some sort of kinship.

Realizing that he was acting peculiar, he turned to you with a dorky smile and bestowed a compliment, "Y/N...This is...gorgeous."

Jolting at the admiration, your breath hitched, "T-thank you...I painted it." You stuttered as you grabbed two towels from a nearby closet. Feeling warmth flow to your cheeks, you ran into the other room to gather dry clothing. After taking a few seconds to calm yourself, you returned, throwing a hooded sweatshirt and basketball shorts to Donatello.

Catching the garments launched in his direction, he continued to shower you with adoration, "You really painted this?! That's incredible...It's amazing!" 

All you could do was nod sheepishly. "Thank you! It's not really that great, there are so many anatomical errors and..." Your train of thought trailed off as you noticed his clothes dripping still from the rain. 

With a chuckle you shifted the conversation, "Alright, you've appreciated my artwork enough! We should get changed before we catch colds." Just as you finished your sentence, your date absentmindedly removed his shirt. Stunned at the sight, you couldn't help but stare. You'd never noticed his lean muscular build previously, since he always wore long sleeves.

Once he became aware of his social blunder, he swiftly recovered with a joke, "Do you mind?" He then placed a hand on his hip, raised one eyebrow, and shifted to a stance that radiated sass.

Still awe-struck, you responded in an unbothered tone before getting the hint, "No--Oh-oh-oh! Excuse me." before retreating into your room once more. Peering through the crack in your door, you looked him up and down while biting your lower lip. Once he shot a playful glare in your direction, you swiftly closed it, but not without getting one, "Bye!" in before doing so. Both of you exploded with laughter at your near-perfectly executed Road to El Dorado scene. 

Following your wardrobe change, you wandered out of your room. Hands over your eyes, you loudly announced your entrance. When you peeked through your fingers to see him decent, a huff of disappointment escaped your lips and he chuckled. The nerdy lad then gave you an amused look as he gestured to the graphic on the kelly green sweatshirt that you'd chosen for him, "Ha ha, very funny." 

Twisting your face into a mischievous grin, you suppressed the urge to giggle and shrugged, "It was the only long sleeve thing I had that would fit you." unable to withhold it any longer, you finally burst into laughter upon reading the ‘Talk Nitrogen, Erbium, and Dysprosium to me’ periodic table of elements joke that adorned the garment. The merriment was cut short when the sound of barking echoed from the other room. 

"Oh no, my poor baby! I'm sorry, do you mind if I let my dog, Noodles, out to meet you?" You asked, and your handsome suitor responded with an affirmative nod of his head.

The dog bounded out into the living area once he was released from confinement, eager to meet the new guest. Prior to getting close, the chocolate brown labrador retriever froze in place and sniffed the air. The animal then proceeded to hesitantly approach, almost as if he was unsure what to make of Donatello. Tilting his head in confusion, he refused to draw in too near. Matching your canine companion's response, you were equally perplexed as you watched the interaction. The pooch didn't growl, nor did he cower, he merely stood at attention before your lanky beau. Finally coming to the decision to lay down on the floor, the pup wagged his tail lightly while keeping his eyes focused on the visitor.

"That was a little weird, but I suppose that it's a good sign...he typically gets aggressive with the men that I bring over. He's my barometer for character." You smiled as you made your way over to the couch, gesturing for Donatello to come and sit with you. Plagued by nerves, he sat a fair amount of space away from you.

"So, how'd you know that I had a dog when we first met?" a question meant to distract from the awkwardness of the situation, but only worsened it. The nervous young man flinched at your question, he hoped that you had forgotten, but he should have known better.

"You just...looked like a dog person," He knew that was a terrible explanation, and judging from the look on your face, you didn't buy it. 

"I suppose that I can accept that as an answer." You motioned with just your index and middle fingers from your eyes to him, in a silent indication that said I'm watching you. The reasoning for how he had guessed your dog ownership was not at the forefront of your mind, however. The nerdy young man chuckled at your attempt at intimidation, snort making an appearance. His laugh made you weak and you fought yet another blush that tried to form on your cheeks. 

Meeting his gaze coyly, you closed the gap between the two of you. Donatello knew what was coming, the burning look in your eyes was telling. Regardless, his heart nearly burst through his chest when you drew in intimately close; bringing your face just inches away from his. The shy young man's nerves got the best of him, and he froze like a deer in headlights. The moment the two of you shared outside of the building was a fit of spontaneous passion. Now, with a clear head, the anxious lad's overactive brain stole his bravery from him. All of his insecurities flashed before his eyes, and proved to be an imposing force.

The blush that crossed his cheeks was accompanied by a broad smile, indicating his interest. He was simply immobilized by uncertainty. Expecting this hesitation, you happily took the lead, pressing your lips softly to his. Your lips tasted so sweet, just as they had before, and Donatello could barely handle it. Without realizing it, he allowed a soft, blissful moan escape him. You responded with a giggle causing him to stammer out a flustered apology. For him, this experience was entirely new, but he couldn't tell you that.

"It's okay, it was cute." You assured him, and he simply replied with an awkward chuckle. 

Slowly, you moved in closer and Donatello followed your direction, sliding down into a reclining position. It wasn't long before you found yourselves laying together on the couch that you'd previously been sitting on. With you on top of him, his heart was now racing, face still beet red as he scrambled to keep up. His body began emitting the low humming sound that you'd since become accustomed to hearing. 

"Jeeze, you work up an appetite pretty easily, huh?" You teased.

"Yeah, but I'm not hungry for food...I'm hungry for you--S-sorry, that was awful." He snorted, critiquing his own terrible pick-up line as he made it. 

Tilting your head you grinned, "I liked it," upon hearing your positive feedback, he then found the courage to wrap his arms around you. This gesture caused you to move from his lips to his neck. Donatello wasn't sure how much more of this he could take, his sensory levels were about to hit critical mass. 

Oh, no...

The fun came to an abrupt end when he felt that indicative tingling overcome him, which only meant one thing. Panic replaced pleasure when amorous young man realized the effects of the ooze were beginning to wear off. It would not be long before he began reverting back to his actual form. He searched his mind for a plausible excuse, but in his flustered state, couldn't come up with even one. 

By this time you had moved back up to his lips and continued kissing Donatello, who couldn't help but reciprocate. Sure, he was concerned for his current state of affairs, but he wanted this so badly. Knots twisted inside his stomach, and he could feel the plates of his plastron reforming underneath his clothing. In the most inconvenient timing, you happened to find your hand on his abdomen, and he whimpered. 

"Huh. That's odd." you were rightfully baffled by this unexpected sensation. Just as you positioned your hand to lift the hoodie, the fretful lad quickly intercepted it.

"S-sorry, I gotta go!" He blurted out, unable to hide his discomfort. Proceeding to slide out from under you, he leapt from the couch nimbly, and made his way towards the door. 

"Wait! Donnie...what's wrong?" You reached out and took a gentle hold of his wrist, feeling a roughness that wasn't there previously. The panicked young man looked down in horror at his now lightly scaled forearm, watching as the rough skin slowly became more prominent and attained a greenish hue. Yanking his arm away, he pulled down the sweatshirt sleeve to conceal it. 

Words fell out of his mouth clumsily, "uh...uuuh...it's a skin condition..." a flimsy elucidation only made worse by the addition of an awkward smile. 

When both of his hands began to tremble, and he instinctively hid them behind his back. He then started to walk hastily in reverse to the exit. Meanwhile, his index and middle fingers began slowly fusing back together with his ring and pinky fingers following suit. Once he made it to the door he fumbled nervously with the handle attempting to open it, a task that proved difficult given his current complications. 

The door finally opened, and without looking, he backed his way through. Before closing the door he gave you one last apologetic look from across the room, hoping that you'd forgive him for his unusual behavior. Much to his dismay, he found himself in your bathroom. He'd made a critical mistake. Donatello swore up and down this was the exit. Now he was effectively trapped by both embarrassment for what had just transpired, and fear that you'd find out what he really is before he was ready to tell you.

A soft knock came from the other side of the bathroom door making the fretful anthropomorphic young man yelp. "Donnie...are you okay?" You called to him, with genuine concern in your voice. 

"Ye-yeah...everything is just fine." He lied, clenching his teeth as he did so. The vanity mirror gave him a perfect view of his current appearance, skin slowly becoming saturated with green and nose flattening into a cream-colored snout. He turned his head away, not wanting to watch his reversion. Scanning the expanse of the the bathroom, he was relieved to find a window. He clambered through the aperture before even giving it a second thought. And then he was gone, down the fire escape of your high rise apartment building. Like a coward he ran, with his transformation nearing completion, and an overwhelming sense of guilt washing over him as he fled into the shadows.

...to be continued.

#not quite human #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt fan fic #bayverse tmnt #donatello #fan fiction #my writing #don's quill pen #woo boy guys #I hope you like it #I hope the surprise wasn't terrible #*screams internally* #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016

[wainwrightjakobshammerlock]

finally. i decided to do this. anyways hello there, i am jake and today i want to talk about something; you see, if you are in the tf2 fandom, you probably know about heavymedic. Wherther you are a hardcore gamer who resents f2p’s or a person that never played the game but has trillions of notes on their art- you know heavymedic exists and most of all you probably ship it.

And I find that weird. In the few fandoms in my life I have been in I had never seen a single ship be so widely if not shipped, then accepted. Sure, maybe everyone in the GF fandom knows what Billdip is - for better or for worse. Sure, maybe the HS fandom is 70% shipping.

But I have never ever seen such a phenomenon in a prominent multiplayer game fandom. A fandom, sadly, oftentimes filled with toxicity. Overwatch is very similar here - yet ships are either a hot topic of discussion or straight up ignored. But TF2? In here for whatever reason we ship these two mercenaries. And in this essay I will try and find a reason or two why is that.

Apologies for any mistakes or incoherency. English is not my first language, I need to ramble, and my vocabulary is all over the place.

Content warning: mentions of homophobia, blood, death, mentions of WLW fetishization, nsfw mention. Also MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR THE TF2 COMICS.

Part 1: Canonical Evidence and Interactions

Let’s be honest: I could ramble about this one for days on end. But I’ll try and keep it short.

First and foremost we have the official videos. And of course the first thing that comes to mind is Meet the Medic.

At the very start of the part where Medic himself appears, we see him telling a joke about a particularly gruesome situation to Heavy.

He laughs along with him, visibly enjoying his company. He even smiles as he waits for another joke. Heavy only shows genuine fear a lot later.

And of course this damn scene always cracks me up. Medic slightly pinches Heavy’s cheek and strokes his lip gently (the other part is almost not noticeable unless you play the video at slow speed).

Of course we all know about the Hand Hold that happens somewhere halfway in the vid. I don’t think I have to explain the gayness in that. The fact their hands stay interlocked even after Medic helps Heavy up. The deep breath Medic takes because even he cannot handle the emotions. That few seconds is unresolved sexual tension manifest.

Overall the short shows a strong feeling of trust between these two. Medic confides in Heavy and reverse. Yeah he puts a baboon heart into his friend’s chest cavity but the fact (as proven at the end of the video) that Heavy was the first one to have an Ubercharge implanted into him shows that Medic at the very least considers him a lab rat.

I treat End of the Line as non-canonical, as do many others, and as such won’t discuss it here. But it will forever crack me up that Valve endorsed such levels of homoerotic subtext.

These two have some short moments in other videos, like for example in Invasion Heavy helps Medic up (CINEMATIC PARALLELS) but it’s nothing major so I guess I’ll skip forward.

Second is their interactions ingame. You might call me a weirdo for trying to find stuff in there but holy shit I have things to say and I’m going to say them.

You thought I was going to fanboy over the “i love this doktor” voiceline huh? Well not really. I wish these two had unique lines if they assist one another.

Heavy is literally listed on the official wiki as the “ideal medic buddy” and multiple pages on that exact wiki say some pretty interesting things.

I have to say something about the Gentleman’s Ushanka and/or Pocket Medic. They are both community cosmetics - but the fact they both got accepted by Valve says a lot. Above is text snipped from the actual wiki.

Last but not least: The Comics. Darned comics. The pair of mercenaries has basically no interaction - unless you count issue 6.

Heavy getting absolutely PISSED when Medic is killed by Ch*avy. Their reunion. Medic referring to Heavy by “my friend” in a totally straight way. Kind of sad Valve wasted an opportunity for them to hug. Maybe they knew their comic artist ships them and wanted to avoid having to answer the Question™.

Part 2: Dynamics

This part’s a bit trickier, mostly due to the reason that I’m new to this whole dynamic analysis thing. Yeah I’m good at spotting canonical evidence but very specific shipping dynamics often escape my gaze.

The most obvious one is Big Guy, Little Guy. Quoting the TVTROPES page:

[…] This trope describes a pair of guys who always fight together, are best friends forever, and quite often have a very obvious hierarchy: The little guy is often in charge […] The little guy is usually listed first, since he’s the leader, and they are always listed together, as if they are one entity. In fact, some episodes may center on the fact that they can’t live without each other. […] If this is a case of Brains and Brawn, the Big Guy is usually the Brawn, and the Little Guy the Brains. It’s almost never the other way around, but in some cases the Big Guy can be rather smart too. […]

A sub-type of this, a common favorite here on Tumblr is known as “small chaotic big calm” and hoo boy if that isn’t these two. I don’t really have much to say here - again I am not an expert.

Part 3: Fandom Impact

So you don’t think Red Oktoberfest (as Heavymedic is sometimes called) is super popular on anywhere else than Tumblr? Wrong.

It’s hard to find TF2 fics on Archive of Our Own not tagged with Heavy/Medic. Of course most of them only contain hints to their relationship but go in the main tf2 tag and I can guarantee you, you’ll gonna see “implied heavy/medic” all the time.

But these two go further than AO3 or Tumblr or Instagram or whatever. They are recognized even within the wider circle of the fanbase. Take this SFM, for example. (I am using the Saxxy Awards version of Secret Lives here mostly due to the fact that the Heavymedic moment is much gayer. In the normal version, the dialogue isn’t changed, but they simply hold hands.)

But it gets deeper. (WARNING: THE GAY MOMENT IN THIS ONE IS NSFW. NOT EXPLICITLY SO BUT JUST A HEADS UP TUMBLR PLEASE DO NOT FLAG ME)

And the best part? The comments are extremely positive. You’d expect hoards upon hoards of homophobes screeching but no, the comments are supportive. Even on places such as Reddit or Youtube, comments like “yeah they’re gay and in love” do not get downvoted/disliked to hell; in fact the opposite.

Part 4: Canon Status

Let’s be real. Most ships are shipped because people want to explore the dynamics in fanfic, fanart or something else. But Heavymedic is shipped because… well, I have no idea.

Actually, I kind of do - but only theories. You see, while the canonical evidence is here, the creators have never said anything about them. No confirmation, no disproval, no hinting, nothing.

But the ship is so prominent! There has to be something causing this!- you say. And to that I present you 2 theories on why Heavy/Medic is so popular.

Theory number 1 states that we simply all choose to interpret their interactions as homoerotic. And this is very easy to disprove - there’s simply no way we just collectively agreed on these matters out of nothing. There has to be something bigger.

And theory 2 states that, well, our interpretation is the desired interpretation. But this is even more ridiculous than theory 1 for a number of reasons. If they are in fact gay, why hasn’t Valve made them canon yet?

A Theoretical Scenario

I am going to ramble big time on this one, so buckle up lads. I’ll discuss a theoretical scenario in which, well, if that was not obvious, Valve confirms Heavymedic as canon. Maybe then we will see why they will probably never do so.

TF2 is considered by typical capital G, alt-right Gamers as a “non-political” game. This means no women (in the game itself, at least, and if even, sexy women only), no queer folk and no minorities (for some reason they accept Demoman but throw a fit if someone draws any other merc as not being pearl white). Team Fortress 2 was around before Gamergate and other things like Gamers Rise Up. It’s a classic and Valve is regarded as the good guy to Epic Game’s bad guy. If Valve did anything to confirm doubts, wherther it be clearing up popular fanon or confirming ships, these people would throw hands. (Although they seemed to ignore when one of the writers confirmed Miss Pauling is a lesbian. Huh.) Even those that don’t play TF2 would come to the aid of their bros.

Let me illustrate with two very similar examples. In both cases these confirmations were the first made by the company as a whole, both are fairly recent and both confirm a character as gay.

First we have the confirmation of Tracer from Overwatch as a lesbian. It was done in one of OVW’s comics. Tracer is the FACE of Overwatch as a whole and while most of the fanbase accepted it (thankfully the Gamers are reluctant to infest ow), some people threw what I can only describe as a hissy fit. At least her girlfriend’s a background character.

Second is Neeko from League of Legends. Unlike Tracer she was added a while before it was confirmed she was gay. LOL is much more toxic and filled with Gamers than OW and holy shit people smeared LOL so much.

Of course these are not accurate to Heavy/Medic. In both of the cases I listed it was girls being wlw and we all know how much cisgender heterosexual gamers LOVE yuri porn. Apparently only girls can be gay because they can jack off to it - if it’s two guys then it’s disgusting. Nevertheless I think these are good approximations - in every case the company gets “shat on” on social media and other sites. With the community that Valve has, I think even if they wanted them to be gay, they would never ever confirm it.

Conclusion

I’m sorry for that ending. I had to theorize a bit. Regardless I’d love if you shared this on other sites, reblogged or whatever - I wasted at least 1 and a half hours of my life on it. Feel free to cite this as a source if someone asks you why you ship the big heavy weapons expert and the feral battle medic.

#my post #text post #tf2 #medic #heavy #heavymedic #long post

[ton-e]

Ooo small worldbuilding detail But!! On earth 513, on Asgard, it's not an uncommon reacurance for royalborns to be illiterate while the normal class receives mandatory education;

They, specifically princesses or general female personel, are thought general politics and basic history, yet the male population isn't educated in forms of writing and reading as they're just not seen as important. At best, they're thought at least high vocabulary but that's about it, because most of them end up involved or ruling over a heavily warfare influenced field.

"Our boys are going on a battlefield," Borr huffs mockingly as he drowns perhaps his 5th goblet of wine. The purple rain drips down from his frizzy beard and sticks long after he slams the gold down. "What are they going to do? Stab the enemy with a quill?"

Bestla sighs, resigned a close familiarity on her tongue, knowing it's a battle lost. Her eyes send a mute apology to three heads watching longingly from the tall windows of their chambers down at the chain of little feet thumping happily towards the schooling grounds, laughter walking closely in their step.

She teaches them in private, secretly away from cunning eyes and ears with more love for money than for their life. Bestla knows her husband well, better than he knows her, or else he'd know she doesn't leave any battle on her knees.

Hel and Allfather harbour a love for books and pretty words, pudgy little fingers following every line of charchol ink as if to gobble the world hiding in every letter, making her heart warm. Balder interests himself in academics, everything from the history of the titans to Njords first touch of water, he's knowledge about, and Bestla bursts with a pride as big as the staff for seeing them starving for a knowledge young and innocent.

Its a nice escape from a harsh reality.

Then, Balder finds his Godhood, and Borr ceases to care what he does.

The distaste is not spoken directly, but the angry screams bleeding from the marital chambers tell him enough. He's not permitted on any battleground touching even the tightest corner of their Kingdom and no one feels brave enough to point his absence out.

'It's because he cares, ' Allfather tries to convince himself, ignoring the presence of a hand, heavy and cruel, squeezing his heart when no celebration is in order for his brother. Balder was devious, harsh, and fickle, but he was his brother all the same. ' Father would hate for him to get hurt.' Even if he knows Balder doesn't hurt easily.

There was a knowledge of what Hel was, when he was born, the nothingness of sound as the cold body of a cryless infant was carried ringing like a death bell above everyone. Hel is born more ghost than boy. Many thought him death. Many think he still is

. But when the proof of his Godhood manifested in the form of a crow dusting in the wind for stealing Bestlas necklace, rumors become information. He holds his baby brother during the long cry of a sleepless bed like a man going to beheading for a terrible cry.

Borr, like countless others, lacks the courage to deny him anything after that.

The poetry slowly stops. What's the meaning of beauty if you can't share it with anyone?

Allfather and Bestla keep them the stash still.

Allfather dreads the day he will have to stop being a mortal, praying to the Norns to grant him as much time as possible. Blessings are granted to the needy, however, and without much surprise soon he presents too.

The greatest feast of all 9 Kingdoms is raised for his Godsake day, and all he wants is to hide. Hide from the tales of old soldiers wishing him good fortune, for the weaponsmaster pushing swords, daggers, axes and spears into his arms, from the young lords, too young and too naive for what awaits them, boosting about the terror they'll unleash in battle, and from his father's mead flavored breath .

" You're my last hope, my one true son," the King slurs, hand cradling Allfathers face in his gloved hand with an affection the blonde lad knows not what to do with it. "Your mother, she thinks I don't know those two aren't my blood. She doesn't know me, just as much as I don't her. But I trust that you will become the King this country needs, won't you? You'll be strong, and true, and worthy. "

He gulps his uncertinity as much as his fear. "... Yes."

"Good lad," Borr beams, eyes hunting for the maiden behind him. "I love you most, Odin."

Allfather locks his books away. He learns to handle a sword sooner than a pencil.

With times, his beloved stories lose their shine to the grime of battle, of war, of what he can't forget, can't give back. His mothers soft lullaby fades to the the screams of widowed women, mothers without husabnds or sons. He wonders, would the knights in his books look at him a hero, or slay him with the sharpest sword? Both possibilities make his chest ache.

But not every region is like that!! Nidavellier prizes wisdom best, tailored their legacy onto paper rather than in battleground; Therefore education is extremely important to them, knowledge crowned the true King among them. It makes no difference to them weather they teach a Prince or princess, stable boy or lord, squire or knight; Everyone is seen the same.

In Jotunheim, they can be considered brightest as they're the main providers if that makes sense! Even if they prefer the shred of reclusiceness in their own territory, a cinsierdable present of the country is seen as a merchant state; They supply almost all of Asgard with plenty of materials, foods, fabrics, you name it they got it, which indicates most of their educational system is a blend of everything.

But it's really important to keep in mind what regions values as "Education" to them! On Asgard it's politics, teaching them their roles as leaders and how to twist the coin so it lands in your favor; On Nidavellier, they encourage each person to aim for blacksmithing, therefore chemistry, physics, mathematics and the such is the most prominent pattern!

Jotunheim, in the same as many Northern regions that differentiate the North and South, possesses a knitclose kinship with spirituality and the unknown old practices, therefore their knowledge holds very close to nature and it's branches; Animals, biology, travelling, everything is an ecosisyetm of subjects but it boils down to being able to shape expert craftiness in wildlife!! Not only do their raise scholars, but also survivors.

The idea came from imagining Allfather being embarssed and feeling unworthy of being in the presence of two of the brightest minds in this generation; Frigg is a ball of energy with a mouth and brain that spills the most interesting sounding things. He doesn't understand them, but she could make floor scrubbing seem captivating if she really tried.

Farbauti has an elegant way with his words, carefully hand picked, complex sentences hosting even more complex thoughts that he can't feel are dumped down for him. They can hold lengthy conversations between the two of them, until the sun raises and falls, trading ideas that sound brilliant. He can't bear the humiliation when they turn to him for his piece and he stays silent, so most of the time, he just agrees without his own addition.

But it's not only that, it's him being very eager to listen to them reading, content to let his hair be played and caressed while resting On a comfortable lap of either harsh leather or soft silk. But he never reads with them. Everytime he tries letter blend into the other or mangle themselves to take form of either other dialect or even numbers.

They take note, because unlike him, they use their heads for something other than holding the rest of his body together.

Farbauti is a gentle man, mirroring the fierce beast in so many ballads and whispers about him. " If you... If you'd fancy some aid with reading, I'd be happy to help you. I know the hardness of being introduced to concepts that, perhaps, you weren't made familiar with. Really, I thought Shaggy dog would skin me for always forgetting a certain sign, he's been looking for a motive for a time, and,-" He stops, words halted and eyes wide when Allfather refuses to meet his gaze, hand wiping away shameful tears.

He's pulled to a strong chest, having to lean down due to their considerable size imbalance. "There is no shame in not knowing," he hums, lips moving gentle and loving in the crown of gold hair. "There is no shame around me, understand?"

The same story happens with Frigg, who brings him great comfort when her small figure sits on his knees and her autumn burned hair tickles the bridge of his nose as they read a book together, out loud, one gentle voice coaxing the other to say every line.

He didn't use to write much, not as much as he read, before. He was content with only drowning in a world far away from the one he couldn't escape, that he didn't dare to create something else.

He writes their names first and the envelope securing well wishes is salted with tears of happiness.

#worldbuilding #earth 513 #allfather #al odinson #balder borrison #hel hellison #bestla #Borr #farbauti fenrison #frigg eitrison #shaggydog #thunderfam