#so... just know after this he very nearly dies from a fever and is absolutely fussed over by people who love him very much

[factorialsotherfandoms]

TW: poorly written major character injury and following equally poorly written first aid. Dissociation due to severe hypothermia.

It's freezing on Soulfire Island, bitterly cold and coated in snow. Pac is doing his best to mine, but his gloves are for driving, not the cold, and his fingers are numb against the pickaxe. He's sure someone would get him better gloves, if they could, but having them at all currently gives him an advantage.

He blows on his hands, tries to shift his hands on the cold wood, and tries again.

There's threefold reason for putting him in the mine, he knows; he has the gloves to handle the pick without freezing to it, his prosthetic freezes easier than a limb, and nobody actually wants to talk to him. By the time he arrived they already had their team, afterall; it's not their fault, it's just him. Trying to apply himself in any useful way.

He wants Mike, he wants Fit, he wants Richars or Forever or Felps or Tubbo, and only the last is an option but the teenager is too busy ordering people around. At this point he would even take Philza, or Cellbit, but he's heard rumours of what Bolas are up to, and would actually rather never see any of that team again.

He's just... He's so cold, and his leg isn't helping any.

Pac also knows the theory; using a prosthetic takes more energy, and so it should be easier for him to stay warm just from walking. The liner also provides some extra protection, but does not stop the fact it is freezing cold. There is freezing cold metal pressed against his skin, separated only by an admittedly thick fabric layer, and it /hurts/. He can put down the pick, the others can lay down their swords or shove their hands in their pockets, but there's nothing he can do about his leg.

Not and lose the ability to run - he needs to be able to run, in a death game.

It chafes, too; he knows the skin will be rubbed raw, possibly to bleeding, from never taking it off. The liner is damp and he knows that way lies infection, but how can he wash it and dry it when at any moment someone could arrive to take his life - and then he'd be stuck atop a frozen mountain without his prosthetic, or crutches, or anything.

(Maybe he should ask about leaving crutches up there, just in case? But then even if he does, he can't go fast down a mountain, so surely its safer just to never remove his leg and deal with the pain and possible complications? Surely after all this he can just grab antibiotics and not leave his island for a few days and wait out the worst of it defended but alone?)

He finishes mining the vein, collecting up the spoils. Some of the iron has fallen, and he has to bend to pick it up.

Getting down is fine.

When he tries to get back up, the mechanical joints of his leg seize, messing up his balance and leaving him tumbling to the floor.

He's in the mine, at least; he didn't fall into any snow.

It's a small mercy as he whines, desperate, and tries to pull himself up. There's little he can do to fix his prosthetic until it warms, but he can at least straighten it out. Still jammed, but in a more useful position.

He ignores the scrapes from the fall to slap at the joint. Really he should get a screwdriver and some alan keys and fix it, but Cucurucho stole his toolkit on the train. At least he didn't take the prosthetic itself, but without his repair kit... And in the cold... There's only so much Pac can do.

Slamming his hands into the frozen metal sends pain racing up Pac's arms, and triggers a sob of frustration. There's so little progress in brute force for what should have been a simple job, but he gets there. He gets there.

By the time he does, however, his entire body has cooled. He is shaking, and shivering, and trembling so hard that even with the aid of the wall he can barely stand.

Pac does it anyway, stumbling along, until he reaches the mouth of his mine and remembers the snow.

The big, long, void of snow, seperating him from warmth with the aid of the sea.

He doesn't know if he can make it, but he has to try.

His prosthetic no longer bends, but with sufficient effort he can swing it around. It's not a face pace, it's not steady or comfortable, but it is still movement.

Mentally he apologises to his team, too cold to risk reaching for his communicator; he couldn't get enough diamonds or gold, and they're going to suffer for it. But, with the cold breaking his prosthetic... There's not a lot he can do.

Just get back with the little he is carrying - not waste their food and the little ore he did collect dying out here.

So he walks, and he walks, and when he reaches water too cold and too confused to make a boat, he somehow finds it in himself to swim.

---

Pac has no idea how he made it to the farm, only that his appearance caused Missa to shriek. The surprise lasts only a second, though, before he's being tugged out of the water, and Missa is trying to both carry him and send a message on his comm.

The rapid Spanish makes no sense, but Pac lets himself be dragged along. Soon enough he's sat on their bed - useless as respawn but still a bed - being stripped of his clothes, dried off, and wrapped in sun-warmed blankets.

Useless, useless - Pac cannot even manage to move his own arms up, let alone pull his clothing off.

Missa hesitates at Pac's leg.

"How do I...?" He asks, hands hovering by it.

Pac... Pac freezes even harder at the idea of losing it. He knows, he knows to get him warm they need to take it off, but how does he do it? What if they fail and he dies anyway?

Missa must see his panic, as he darts back and tries to apologise.

Pac... cannot handle that; somehow he manages to pull apart the straps and undo the latches, unable to stop it falling to the floor. Missa is gentler with the liner than Pac would have been, whimpering when he sees the state of the skin beneath.

Pac doesn't want to look. He doesn't want to know. He wants his home and his family and this all to end.

"Sorry I took so long," it's Tina, half asleep, tea in hand. "Here, this'll help."

She presses it into Pac's hands - he does his best not to scream at the pain of heat against frozen skin - and guides it to his lips. Being forced to drink is nearly enough to distract him from the pain of Missa trying to clean up his stump, but only nearly - he chokes on the tea, and Missa and Tina both panic.

Somehow he gets his breathing back under control; they're more hesitant this time, but both continue their tasks.

"Tubbo is coming," Tina promises. "He won't be long. Just drink up, we'll get you warm soon!"

Once the tea is finished, she hands him another cup, but it is forced into one hand. She takes the other in her own, asking something Pac looses before beginning to clean and bandage the blisters and scrapes on his skin.

Pac doesn't want to know, he doesn't want to look, all he can feel is the cold in his soul and wonders if maybe what this is what Mike felt. It's horrific, horrifying, and makes him want nothing more than to hold his dear friend close.

It isn't Mike who holds him - or any of his friends. Instead it's Missa again, reassigned from farming duty to warming Pac up, holding him while Tina finds more blankets and a sword. He cannot bring himself to resist as he's tucked into bed - his comm pings again and again in a flurry of messages that nobody else is receiving, but his body just continues to shut down.

He hears panic, but he's cold, and he's hurt, and he's /exhausted/, and it's not his family, so he zones them out and finds comfort in oblivion instead.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp pac #qsmp purgatory #gosh I want to poke all the canon disabilities in context of purgatory more #there was a bit where he woke up feverish to tubbo and fit arguing #but I couldn't make it work #so... just know after this he very nearly dies from a fever and is absolutely fussed over by people who love him very much #they just weren't immediately to hand #and because of the team split took a while to know #the bonus of the injured person's pov is they're rarely in a headspace to process it

[historia-vitae-magistras]

i’d never even considered how the civil war would affect alfred during ww1, that’s a really interesting idea. would you mind expanding a bit more if you haven’t already?

fuck yes I can expand on that. TW for historic nastiness.

Okay to prelude— I don't typically do 1:1 state/gov to character but considering the cession of the south into a separate state and the US itself is the Union, my boy is in blue. In this blog's universe there is no schizophrenia or split personality or Doppelgänger or any other representation of the south. It gutted him and he lost feeling in a lot of his usual area and it severely weakened him but he represented the United States and that means union blue. And considering the north really doesn't have all that much moral leverage on the south especially in matters of racism, it's not much of a jump. If you aren't crazy about that, look away now.

So. Trench warfare. It's as old as humans bashing each other's heads in. Defensive ditches are an archaeological feature across the applicable world. But it's the American Civil War that might hold the gold medal for largest gap between how technology designed to kill had advanced spectacularly over any innovation that might save lives. I won't say deadliest because you do have the Taiping Rebellion around the same time but a lot of that was sièges and counter sieges and river based naval engagements. But anyway— rifled artillery and direct fire techniques had changed the game and soldiers were driven underground behind parapets and sandbags. Around Petersburg especially. And it's towards the end of the war when the Confederacy is increasingly desperate and hand to hand fighting is getting more common and more brutal. Entire regiments were lost in hand to hand mêlée. And if a soldier didn't die instantly, it was off to a field hospital. Guts ripped open by iron shells, lungs hanging from the tips of bayonets, wounds so infected they glowed, limbs hacked off by a surgeon who hadn't washed his hands in six days and sepsis rot so foul someone can taste it on the air even with the mouth closed. Malaria and typhoid so fucking bad the army cots would literally shake apart from how bad men shivered when the chills aspect of the fever cycle hit. I know it's fashionable right now especially on vintage fashion YouTube to say people in history weren't disgusting but like, I've been in archives for years. Yeah it fucken was. Never was medicine so far behind the ability to kill.

So Alfred's probably died a solid dozen times half of which from shitting himself because he's probably riddled with parasites. He's been shot, stabbed, slashed. Shaken, rattled and absolutely steam rolled. And the final part of his almighty trauma is this is happening just up the river from where he was born in Jamestown. Alfred is on his belly in the earth beneath the feet of the people that bore him and then rejected him, begging his Protestant God and any of his own people listening and the very earth itself to protect him, to keep him alive as shell after shell lands around him.

When every battle is over, the dead rot in piles across the fields and trenches. The famous photos of the Antietam and Gettysburg dead are days old, you can see some of the bodies had been looted. There were so many dead and so many dying that upon its tardy entrance into world war one, the US had a more coherent body management and disposal program than any other of the entente powers. Who had already been at war for nearly four years.

So yeah, in my opinion he got ten steps into a front line trench where the British and especially the French were just causally walking on bodies, he vomited so hard New York felt California rattling around in there and said fuck it. My boy was either off to cleaner pastures like Belleau Wood or the air corps. It was too much too soon and he just couldn't keep it together in those conditions. They knew what bacteria were by WW1 and he was a burgeoning world power. So he probably only went full himbo with dysentery twice in France so it wasn't as bad as his civil war flop era but oof. That smell, the screams, pressing himself into soil that is not his own yet again is too recent and too vulnerable. He can't do it again so soon.

#the ask box || probis pateo #hws America #meatsack mechanics || the sociology and biology of nations #I'm back #broke my tablet lol

[recurring-polynya]

Idk if you’ve answered this question (sorry if you have) before, but how do you think Renji & Rukia first met ? What do you think their life was like originally before Soul Society ?

Pardon me if I'm reading this wrong, but...Rukia and Renji's first meeting is enshrined pretty thoroughly in canon? She rescued him from a water heist that was about to turn disastrous.

This is from Chapter 98/Episode 32: A Star and a Stray Dog, which is the first place you should be looking if you're interested in pre-canon Renruki lore.

As to the second part of your question...you mean before they died? What sort of lives did they have in the World of the Living?

I'm gonna pontificate, so I'll throw that under a cut

First off, I am fascinated with the fact that Kubo gives us nothing about what anyone's living life was like. On one hand, I would like to know everyone's pre-history, but on the other, I'm glad he didn't, like as a literary choice. The slate is supposed to be wiped clean. It doesn't matter. It's maddening, but also correct.

It's also one of those places that is just ✨fanfic free real estate✨ in terms of I think everyone should make up their own version for their blorbos, so of course I have them for Renji and Rukia. I have absolutely nothing to support these, they are just what I felt in my heart.

I have actually talked about Renji's beforedeath quite a bit, here and there in various fanfics, usual under the conceit that, particularly in their Inuzuri days, he would sometimes blurt out some half-remembered thing and then promptly forget it again. Here an excerpt from Chapter 3 of go places:

It’s an Alive Memory, Rukia is nearly certain. Most souls get them. All the boys did, from time to time. To Renji, it’s just brain dust. Whatever it is in Soul Society that makes people forget their lives also makes this memory detritus slippery to hold onto. Renji won’t think of this later, or attach any importance to this conversation. The funny thing is, after ten years of watching him stumble through these moments, Rukia probably has a better idea of what Renji’s life was like than he does. He lived on a farm of some sort. A small one, or at least his family grew a lot of their own food. He died of a fever. Nearly all of his Alive Memories involve his mother. Rukia is almost positive that Renji’s mother is the one who taught him to write. The sewing scissors were likely hers. In Rukia’s imagination, Renji’s mother is very tall and beautiful and kind. Rukia doesn’t need to use her imagination to know that Renji loved his mother very much.

Just to offer a little more detail--doing the math out, where Bleach starts in the early 00s, Rukia and Renji have been separated for 40 years and knew each other for 10 years before that, it would make a lot of sense for both of them to have died in WWII. However, I like to think that time is very wobbly, especially in the outer Rukon, so I like to make their deaths a little earlier-- specifically, I think that Renji died in the 1918 flu pandemic, which may have contributed to getting a plague spirit for a zanpakutou. That being said, my general vibe for his childhood is based on Kanta, the neighbor kid from My Neighbor Totoro, which takes place in the 50s. In any case, he had a pretty small and unremarkable life in rural Japan, aside from the fact that he was loved very much, which will never be unremarkable, no matter how common it may be.

I have written less about Rukia's beforedeath, mostly because she was too young when she died to have any phantom memories. [Note: I know there are some theories out there, based on some arcane clues that Kubo has dropped that Rukia may not actually be a normal soul and may be related to Hell. That's...fine. While I'm never going to say no to a storyline that centers Rukia, I really do hope that it comes to naught. Ichigo has enough Crazy Origin going on and I like the Rukia's backstory the way it is, so I'm just going to ignore all of that for the sake of this post]. Ahem! So, infant death is not anything surprising, or even really interesting, but what makes Rukia's kind of compelling is the fact that her much-older sister died at the same time. To me, this indicates either a natural disaster or a death-by-violence.

As I said above, there are infinity ways you can go with this, but to me, there were two important things I wanted to capture 1) given Renji's descriptions of Rukia having an inherent grace and nobility, and the idea that something about Hisana caught Byakuya's eye, I thought that maybe they should have been noble, and 2) I wanted them to live by the sea. I do not actually remember how I landed on this, but in the 1850s, a bunch of sea fortresses were constructed to protect Japan by attack from sea (see here for more detail). This was the tail end of the Edo period and I liked the idea that maybe Rukia came from an old samurai family, and her father was sent to oversee one of these coastal forts. Did they die in a bombardment? A bad storm? The Kanto earthquake? I never got that far. I'm not even sure if this is a realistic scenario, if they had civilians living there, etc, this was just a half-thought-out thing I came up with for a bonus chapter of a fanfic that someone requested once. The one other detail from that that I came up with and stand by is that I think there were more siblings in their family between Hisana and Rukia. I also like that this idea that makes Rukia somewhat older than Renji, even though the math is impossible and the points are made up anyway.

#rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #beforedeath is a great companion word to afterlife which i just made up for this post but i hope it catches on

[ash-morgensterns]

Post Chain of Thorns Rant pt.2

[pt.1]

Now that she no longer was busy treating Ari like shit and using women like objects, Anna was a lot more tolerable. I even liked the glimpses of her relationship with Matthew we got. Maybe if she could react like a person whose brother just died in her arms I would like her a lot better. And if we got to see her mourning in her own POV rather than in Ari's buried between paragraphs of her wanting to kiss Anna. 

Jesse came back from the dead, literally everyone and their mother knows it, yet his literal family barely bats an eyelid. The very same folks who had begged him to come live with them when he was a kid. Now to them, he's just 'Jesse the new strange boy'. The whole Jeremy Blackthorn plan was just cheap, I cannot believe it worked for as long as it did. This guy here is the spitting image of his father, yet when he showed up at a party full of people who had known him for years, they just drink up the American relative excuse just because apparently all Blackthorns look the same???? Also wouldn't they know Jesse as well considering he was running around London, possessed by a Prince of Hell and murdering Shadowhunters just yesterday??? Nobody found it even a little suspicious that a new Blackthorn just showed up right after that??? Whatever, the necromancy plot was just an afterthought and it showed. #Jesse and James best brothers-in-law. 

I absolutely loathed how everyone villainized Charles just because he wanted to keep his relationship with Alastair and homosexuality a secret. And then, to make things worse, he was literally forced into coming out by his own brother and his friend, and got treated like shit because he dared prioritize his career over any relationship he might have in the future. God forbid someone doesn't put romance in the first place right??? And don't even get me started on how everyone just dismissed him after he did come out. Because apparently 'nobody cares if he fancies men'!!! Where did Charles get the impression he would get ostracized if the truth ever came out??? That's so silly of him!!! I'm raging.

A few more thoughts about the book/plot in general:

Elias' funeral anyone???

CC totally forgot one of the characters was supposed to end up exiled at the Scholomance.

The Carstairs owe the Herondales because????

Wasn't there supposed to be a surprise baby that needed adoption?

Ariadne changed her name to Ari/Arati but we never get a last name. Does she keep Bridgestock since she made up with her mother?

After four completed series and six (that I can remember) dead siblings, I can safely say that the one who got the most (and better written) amount of mourning is Sebastian, of all the people.

These characters have such a black and white perception of the word and it's just annoying.

How TF did Charlotte manage to get pregnant, she is like 50… And twins.

Bridget coming into the fray last minute and starting to slay demons was insane. I love her for it.

New Belial's pact about him and Herondales staying away from each other is totally tying in either the last TEC's book or TWP.

Anna and Ari already planning to adopt a baby feels incredibly rushed.

Forever be bitter that we never got to see Gideon's reaction to Jesse resurrection and them interact.

Congratulations to Sona for making it out alive when so many people (me included) gave her for dead.

Cordelia's relationship with both Herondale is totally rushed and built around nothingness. I wish CC would stop trying to sell either as "childhood friendships turned into more" because… it's simply not that. It's blatantly obvious that despite writing to each other for years (plus the occasional meeting) Lucie and Cordelia barely know each other, and James doesn't even have that… Am I really supposed to believe that it took him as little as her reading to him when he was nearly comatose with fever to make him fall in love with her?

It was very nice to see all the characters finally come together and interact as a group.

Lucie and Jesse best ship.

If Tessa hadn't been so stubborn about keeping her head under sand about the identity of her father and had acted accordingly (especially when Jem did all the research work for her and clearly warned her that her father was one of the Princes of Hell) all that mess about getting the Institute removed from their custody would have been avoided. Not to mention, she could have had her children learn how to defend themselves, insead of leaving them to fend off alone until the problem became too big to ignore.

The falling out for the necromancy plot was incredibly underwhelming.

I don't think we are ever getting another (accurate) family tree.

#the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #chain of thorns #chain of thorns spoilers #anna lightwood #jesse blackthorn #charles fairchild #tessa gray

[shmoo92]

a little light that's mine

I’m thinking about Kokomi and Kaeya’s first wedding. They’re young—too young to marry, really (kaeya’s either 15 or 16 November birthdays are haaaaard) but Kaeya’s dying.

It’s been a few weeks since Crepus died, since Diluc killed Kaeya, since Rhinedottir rebuilt Kaeya’s spine. But all the healing in all of Mondstadt isn’t enough to maintain sterility, and infection gets its claws in.

The worst part is the infection isn’t all that bad, considering the catastrophic state of the injury. But the fever, raging and out of control, will not cool.

The light of Khaenri’ah is the spluttering flame of a candle, the last fluff clinging to a dandelion in a wind storm.

Yeye himself can’t save Kaeya. (Morax himself couldn’t save Guizhong.) But maybe, just maybe they can carry forward his magic—

.

Kokomi is sixteen, a head shorter than her classmates, and still wearing tank tops under her hakama. Even if she weren’t soon the divine high priestess, she knows she’s different. her bones know it.

So she isn’t entirely surprised that, when she returns to her chambers in the shrine after class, she finds Barbatos.

She is a little surprised that he’s rifling through her jewellery box, that he’s set all her ring boxes in tidy rows on her dresser.

He offers her mother’s wedding band.

She strings it on the chain around her neck, and takes his hand.

They land in Mondstadt; thunder crashes, the rain falls almost horizontal, and the wind very nearly rips away Kokomi’s cloak but she pulls the hood down low over her eyes and runs where the hand in hers tells her to.

It’s hardly a minute but also an age that they’re finally inside and Barbatos, now in travelling clothes, leads her through the manor. It’s dark, the lamps turned low, and more and more quiet the deeper they go into the house. Even the kitchens and its banked fire seem subdued.

Yeye bows deeply. Adelaide, handkerchief twisted in her hands, offers something to that effect.

Barbatos nudges Kokomi. He gives her a handful of cecilias, lifts the hood from her face, and kisses her forehead. Adelaide reaches around Kokomi and unclasps the chain. She drapes a white wool shawl over her head, almost apologetically, and arranges it over her hair and shoulders as if it an Inazuman bridal hood. She fusses—Yeye touches her arm and she steps back, steels herself, then with trembling fingers and from her pocket she draws out a ring box. Yeye helps her open it and Adelaide pushes two rings into Kokomi’s hands. She presses her lips to Kokomi’s temple. Kokomi feels wetness upon Adelaide’s cheek.

Yeye opens the door and they go through.

The pantry-turned sickroom is stifling. If not the heat then the smell, of burnt skin, sweat, incense, and illness.

Kokomi crosses thé tiny space and kneels on the rug by Kaeya’s side. Adelaide sits on the cot by Kaeya’s head. Barbatos sinks to the floor by the door. Yeye stands by the foot of the bed.

It’s cramped and what ceremony they manage chokes on grief.

The ribbon is an apron string, the chalice a mug, the wine tepid water. Yeye intones the absolute bare minimum of a Liyuean marriage rite. Kokomi puts her mother’s ring on Kaeya’s thumb and Adelaide, on Kaeya’s behalf, slides his grandmother’s ring onto her finger. Kokomi kisses the corner of his mouth. She thinks, please don’t go. I just met you!

She also thinks she smells ash. She’s here and somewhere distant. It’s dark and a nightmare but a pillar of light bursts from the horizon and pierces the sky.

That difference thrums in her bones; her viscera roils and thrashes and she realizes—

It’s trapped. Caged, even.

And here before her, clinging to life with a sluggish heart and infrequent, shallow breaths, is the key. If she can just—

She’s herself and she’s the moisture in his lungs. She’s kneeling on a rug over wood and she’s the blood crawling through his veins.

She turns her attention upon the fever; it collapses before her. She wonders what all the fuss is about. She notes the kidneys and their failing; they restore themselves to wholeness and a glimmer of vitality returns. Why are they all so worried?

(Who is ‘they’?)

She comes upon the blood brain barrier and the infection pounding against it until She, and it scatters.

SHE sails along arteries and blood vessels and bone, sweeping debris and decay and disease in HER wake.

What is anything against HER?

SHE becomes the spinal column; observes the weak firing from frayed and cauterised nerves through artificial bypasses spliced and intertwined; the cleanly severed bone ever so slowly fusing with a transplant.

Frankly, it’s a mess.

It will become whole under HER watch. This is HER domain; this is where SHE reigns, She just needs—

What did She need?

Kokomi returns to herself. Adelaide’s tucked in the corner of the cot, unconscious. She hears low voices from the kitchen.

The difference in her self; it is different from others but it is her and she is it. She is caged and She is the cage but the cage is a shield, a shell, and She will bide Her time until She has the key.

The key.

She needed the key, the key—

Is within Kaeya. Is Kaeya.

Kokomi reaches out and touches his cheek. Her husband’s cheek.

He’s asleep.

Just asleep.

#kokokae #kaeya alberich #sangonomiya kokomi #kokomi/kaeya #genshin impact #zhongli genshin impact #venti genshin impact #this shmoo writes

[kurakusia]

Reviewing Some of Edgar Allan Poe’s Short Stories

DISCLAIMER: I am not an English major or anything like that so don’t expect an actual detailed review, I just picked up a collection of his short stories one day because BSD has me in a chokehold. Also, my recollection of the stories may be inaccurate as I’m going mostly off of memory.

Manuscript Found in a Bottle - 4/10

- Basically the story is written as if the reader found a bottle in the ocean full of, you guessed it, manuscripts (letters)

- The letters themselves are meant to be written by a guy who decided to journey out to sea and writes about all the strange events that happen while he’s out sailing

- Now this would probably be an interesting story, but Poe stuffed so many technical ship terms like ‘beam-ends’ and ‘ballast’ that I spent more time trying to figure out what he was describing rather than understanding the plot itself

- Because of this, all I really managed to grasp of the story is that there was a strange storm and then all the crew members started acting weird before some weird phenomenon happened in the ocean that killed everyone

- It wasn’t a bad story but I really couldn’t keep up with all the technical lingo (did people back then just casually know these terms?) which reduced my enjoyment a lot, but I liked the concept of the story being a series of letters left behind by someone at sea

Ligeia - 8/10

- Now I actually really liked this one, the story is told through the words of a man who is reminiscing about his deceased wife, Ligeia

- About 1/3 of this story is the narrator describing how absolutely infatuated he was with his wife and how pretty and smart she was, which introduced me to some of my favourite quotes of all time, such as:

‘They became to me twin stars of Leda, and I to them devoutest of astrologers.’ (in relation to describing Ligeia’s eyes)

‘In beauty of face no maiden ever equalled her. It was the radiance of an opium-dream - an airy and spirit-lifting vision more wildly divine than the phantasies which hovered about the slumbering souls of the daughters of Delos.’

- Yeah I wasn’t kidding when I said this guy was INFATUATED with her. After he finishes gushing about her, he starts to talk about her falling ill and that she recited some cryptic poem about God and death shortly before she died

- After Ligeia’s death, the narrator falls into a form of depression, moves out into a mansion in England and marries a woman named Rowena, who he doesn’t like nearly as much as Ligeia

- He then continues to describe his entire mansion in painful detail (like he describes EVERYTHING about this mansion, good god) and talks about how his new wife, Rowena, also eventually fell ill

- THIS IS WHERE IT GETS INTERESTING, Rowena becomes so severely ill that she eventually dies and gets wrapped up in bandages or something of the sort to preserve her body before her body can be collected to be buried 

- At night, the narrator goes into Rowena’s room and sits by her corpse while smoking opium (poor guy is really going through it at this point). As he sits there, he notices that Rowena’s body starts to breathe and move as if its alive, with some occasional sounds coming from her mouth. When this happens, the narrator is reminded of Ligeia and this whole fiasco continues for a while until eventually, the corpse gains enough life(?) to stand up by itself, at which point the bandages fall from its face and reveals the face of Ligeia *audience gasps*

- Yeah so this story had all the good stuff, beautiful descriptions (if not a bit excessive at times), an engaging storyline, and a nice creepy ending. Genuinely, I read this one very late at night and that whole part with the corpse coming back to life actually left me a bit antsy, in my opinion it was written quite well.

The Man that was Used Up - 6/10

- So uh, this entire story felt like a fever dream. So many sections of this story repeat over and over again that it makes you feel like you’re going mad. I think this was intended to be a mystery but it kind of read a bit more like a comedy because of that. Also Poe uses so many random French words and phrases in this one. I think it was like ‘fashionable’ to use random French in your conversation back then, and this one is written through the point of view of a guy who lives among upper class society (I think).

- Basically, the narrator is talking to his friend who mentions a guy called ‘Brevet Brigadier-General John A. B. C. Smith’ (he was referred using his full title like this throughout the entire story and it drove me up the wall). This John Smith guy apparently was very ‘heroic’ and killed some Native Americans in something called the ‘Bugaboo and Kickapoo Campaign’. Yeah nowadays I think he would be considered scum of the Earth, but seemingly back then this was a thing that people were praised for.

- In any case, the narrator hears of this ‘heroic’ act and thinks nothing too much of it until his friend mentions that there was something very strange about Smith’s appearance. The narrator then grows obsessed with finding out what this secret is and it becomes the entire plot of the story. He goes round to multiple people asking them to describe Smith but they somehow get interrupted every. single. time.

- Eventually, the narrator ends up going directly to Smith’s house to see for himself what the big secret is. He is greeted by Smith’s valet, who takes him to Smith’s room. The narrator hears Smith’s voice coming from a clump of clothes(?) on the floor, and slowly the valet starts to assemble Smith using various prosthetics. The narrator begins to realise what Smith’s secret is: he is the man that was used up.

- Now while the ending is quite cool and the general idea behind the plot is interesting, the entire build-up to this ending was a headache. Having to read the narrator go on a wild goose chase to figure out this secret while every other paragraph was repeated word for word made me feel like I was reading something straight out of Alice in Wonderland. Kind of interesting but a painful process to get to the good part, which only lasts for a paragraph or so once you get to it.

The Tell-Tale Heart - 9/10

- This is personally my favourite short story from Poe’s collection. I first read it in secondary school and have loved it ever since. It’s written in a way that is easier to understand than a lot of Poe’s other stories, and it’s not too descriptive either.

- This story essentially follows the narrator’s descent into madness as he grows obsessed with the idea of killing an elderly man who lives with him. He eventually manages to kill the man and hides the body under the floorboards. However, due to the noise he made, the police are alerted and come over to his house to see what’s going on.

- The narrator, satisfied with the murder he just carried out successfully, gets cocky and invites the policemen into his home. However, as the policemen sit and chat amongst themselves, the narrator grows increasingly more and more paranoid that the policemen actually know that he murdered the man, and that they are just toying with him. Throughout this whole ordeal, the narrator becomes more and more convinced that he can hear the dead man’s heart beating from under the floorboards, and he becomes convinced that the police can hear this too, despite them not showing any signs of doing so.

- Eventually, in a fit of panic and desperation, the narrator flings open the floorboards and reveals to the policemen the corpse of the elderly man, as well as his ‘hideous heart’.

- The way Poe has written the narrator’s descent into madness is so believable. When the narrator grows paranoid believing he can hear the corpse’s beating heart, it felt so convincing that I felt as if I could relate to the narrator’s emotions myself. At one point, I was on the edge of my seat, wanting the narrator to be able to carry out the murder undetected just as much as the narrator wanted to. This will always remain my favourite work of Poe’s, unless I find a better one.

#edgar allan poe #book review #poe #victorian literature #literally just did this for fun please dont criticise my review skills

[scarlettriot]

Along for the Ride PT 1

Pairing: KirishimaxF!Reader

Summary: A drunken mistake had you marking the little Plus One box to your snobby cousin's wedding. Kirishima told you not to worry, if you couldn't find a date, he'd go with you. When the wedding gets moved up, there's absolutely no time to find a date and you're now about to be traveling to America with Kirishima on a private jet no less, dreading having him meet your rude and impossibly arrogant family.

Contains: Kirishima and Reader both come from very well-off families. Plus-Sized Reader. Fluff. Hurt/Comfort.

Warnings: Kinda smutty for a minute. Minors DNI. Drunken Sex. TW: Manipulative Family Relationships. TW: Body Image Issues

A/N: This story has been rolling around in my head for a while now. I might rewrite this and repost. Or I might just post the whole thing soon. I dunno yet. It does get smuttier.

Word Count: 4,974

"What's up with Y/N?"

Eijiro stepped out of the locker room with a towel slung over his shoulder and made his way into the kitchenette where Mina was chugging a bottle of water before getting back to her patrol. His eyes were trained on their mutual friend out on the patio, pacing.

You had your phone pressed to your ear, the high neck of your hero costume unzipped to your collarbone and he noticed your gloves discarded on a chair.

"No clue." Mina shrugged. "She got back from patrol and she noticed a bunch of missed calls from her mom. She's been out there, flailing on the phone for the last fifteen minutes now."

The three of you had met in your second year at UA when you transferred into their class and were quickly accepted by their little squad of friends. You were a bit quiet at first but quickly found comfort in the group. Eijiro had grown especially close to you when you both interned with Fat Gum.

Late nights traveling on the train back to school, a few close calls while helping patrol, and days spent playing cards while you both healed up in the hospital left plenty of time for Eijiro to get to know you better than most. It was how he knew you had a pretty bad relationship with your family, why you hated returning home for the holidays almost as much as you hated any and all forms of tomatoes.

He considered going out there just to see if there was anything he could do but before he had the chance, you were sliding the glass door open. "Oh, good, you're back." He offered you a bottle of water for your throat that he assumed was sore after that argument. "I- um- can I borrow you for a second? Alone?"

Mina snorted a laugh. "If you guys wanna bang it out on the counter you can just say so. I gotta go to work anyways."

Eijiro threw the towel at her as she left the room leaving you two alone. "What's goin' on?"

You hoisted yourself up on the countertop while he leaned against the fridge. "You remember my cousin's wedding that's happening this winter?"

He nodded. He vividly remembered the both of you getting waste a few weeks ago when you were filling out the RSVP and accidentally marking 'plus one'. Then you ran around trying to find White Out but he'd told you if you didn't find a date or have a significant other by the time of the wedding, he'd just go with you.

You argued that your family was bat shit crazy, had more money than they could spend in their lifetime and because of that, they were among some of the rudest people you knew, and you didn't want Eijiro or anyone else around that.

The thing was, Eijiro already knew that and was still okay with going. He came from money too. A lot of it. His family was just more welcoming than yours, the wealth never really going to their heads. But, he reminded you that he'd ran into enough people like those in your family that he knew how to handle them. You finally agreed to let him accompany you, leaving the plus one box checked but the name line blank.

"Well, my cousin just found out that surprise, she's pregnant! And, obviously, she can't have a wedding while seven months along so they've decided to move the wedding up to this weekend."

He nearly choked on his own spit. "This weekend? As in four days from now?"

"Yup! Saturday at 4 in the evening. Oh! No one's supposed to know she's pregnant either. So, I'm just supposed to compliment her on how flattering her dress looks, how thin she is," Your hands strangled the water bottle between them, "And I have to find something flattering to my figure because my mother has seen me in my hero outfit and she's so glad I wear a mask because if anyone knew her daughter ran around looking like I do, well, it'd ruin her!"

You massaged your temples circling back to the actual point, "Anyways, I just wanted to bitch for a sec and let you know you're off the hook since four days is just a little short notice and I told her my plus one wouldn't be able to get the time off that fast."

He pushed off the fridge. "Well, wait, hang on! I'm not letting you go in alone to deal with them! Hell no! You need backup!" You looked almost taken aback by his abruptness, "Yeah. I can work this out. Is the wedding at the same place it was supposed to be or has it moved?"

"No, it's still that fancy lodge in California. I was planning on leaving Friday morning and then coming back either Sunday night or Monday morning since my mother insists I go to their brunch the following day. But, Eijiro, I already have this weekend off..."

"Denki owes me a favor or twelve. He's supposed to be off this weekend too, I'll just see if he can cover me."

"And if he can't?"

"Then..." He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, "Y/N, am I feeling warm to you? I think I might be starting a fever!"

You folded your arms, shaking your head, "Thought you said lying isn't manly."

"Technically, correct. But, what would be real unmanly is for me to let you deal with your family's bullshit all alone." You watched him closely, "To be honest, I'm sure we could just explain you had a family thing come up and asked me to come along for moral support. I don't really think anyone would think twice about it. Hell, you took a few days off to console me when my turtle died suddenly!"

"Eiji, you refused to eat."

"And you brought me my favorite dumplings! Same thing!"

You might have shaken your head at him but your arms opened wide. The telltale sign you wanted affection. He walked forward, consuming you in a tight hug. Your arms latched around his neck, face buried in the hollow of his throat. "You're the best."

"I just do what I can."

>>><<<

You should have canceled. Instead of Eijiro faking sick to get out of work, you should have faked it with your mother so you didn't have to go in the first place. You crumpled to the floor of your bedroom in pure frustration amidst the twenty or so outfits and dozen pairs of shoes you'd thrown out of your closet trying to find something that your mother would deem appropriate.

It wasn't your fault you had a fuller figure. You worked out, ate right, not to mention your job kept you very active, and yet your, hips, ass, and breasts were by no means subtle.

Your mother had also insisted on the dress being floor-length and modern, "Do try not wearing all black. It's a wedding, not a funeral. And, get your hair looking natural, please." And, just like that, 70% of your wardrobe was out the window!

"It's open!" You called from the floor when the doorbell rang.

"You really should lock this." Mina tutted, walking through the door with a bag full of takeout.

"I do. At night."

"Honey, it's 9 PM."

"Night like bedtime."

Mina just rolled her eyes and walked into your tiny kitchen. "I see the dress hunt is going well."

"I actually figured it out!" You got off the floor, careful not to step on a heel as you made your way to the pink haired woman, "I'm just gonna go in my birthday suit. I figured, my mother made my body technically therefore she can't disapprove of it. Because, you know, she's never done anything wrong in her life!"

Your best friend snorted out a laugh and passed you the take-out container stuffed full of stir fry. "you're a wonderful person, you know that?" You loved the fact Mina didn't even have to ask what you wanted.

"If you'd just move closer to work then you could pick it up yourself and I wouldn't have to bring it to you."

"Too expensive." You declared after a mouthful. "You pay almost twice as much as I do per month and I just don't see the point. I have damn near the same amount of space you do for half the cost!"

You adored your small one-bedroom apartment. It was perfect. Right above a bakery that you visited each morning after your run and a little balcony that provided you with the most stunning view of the sunset.

"You and Kiri, I swear." Mina just shook her head and curled up with her food on the loveseat. "I thought he'd end up with the biggest house out of us all the moment we started making that real Pro money. You've seen his parent's house. It's massive! You could get lost in that place!"

Eijiro's place was barely bigger than your own. He lived in the same condo he had since you'd graduated UA, claiming it was perfect for him in each and every way. But, you knew that he donated a sizable amount of his paycheck every month to charities, the same as you. With savings to spare, neither of you saw the point in hoarding it and therefore the small condo was all he could afford with what he actually kept.

"Just don't understand how a guy that big can live in such a tiny little space. At least with you, it's you know, physically feasible."

Eijiro's bedroom was barely large enough to fit the king-sized bed the man needed to sleep comfortably and even then, his feet were dangerously close to dangling off the bed. And, as if the man's ears were burning, your cell phone went off under a pile of discarded shoes.

Shark-E: Figured out your dress situation? If not, I'm just gonna pack like ten different ties and hope for the best.

You: Yeah! I totally did! I'm just gonna wear this birthday suit I got and call it a night.

You chuckled at your own joke all over again. Watching the grey ellipses appear and then vanish, appear and vanish again. After a third time, you took pity on the man.

You: Joking, Ei. I still don't have it figured out but Mina's over so, hopefully, she can help.

Shark-E: Gonna give me a damn heart attack! Seriously, I wouldn't put it past you just to see the look on your mom's face. Tell Mina hi and good luck to you. I vote the dress from the Hero Gala two years ago.

You: Hi from Mina. Can't. Too much boobs.

Shark-E: You take that back right now! There is NEVER such a thing as too much boobs!

You chuckled to yourself, putting your phone down, and then finished off the last of your delicious dinner, thinking about the dress Eijiro mentioned.

You wondered if maybe there was a way you could make the thing work but it was so very low cut. So much tape had been used to make sure no slips happened but damn was it worth it! The beaded bodice with the sparkling long sleeves, gods, how you loved that dress.

"I'm inclined to agree with our shark boy. You're busty, who gives a damn. You looked hot as hell in that dress."

"My mother, that's who. As much as I'd like to not give a flying fuck what she thinks, for some dumb reason, I do. On top of her telling me that the amount of cleavage I would show would be vastly inappropriate for a wedding, she'd also say the way it hugs my hips makes them look too fat."

Mina rolled her eyes. "She's such a piece of work." Pushing herself up, she held her arms out to you, wiggling little pink fingers for you to take. "Come on then. Let's get you sorted."

"What about that one you wore to the charity art thingy with Kyoka last winter? The one with the silver top."

"Silver is too close to white." You called out from within your closet.

"What! Not true!"

"You know that. I know that. Every person with two brain cells knows that, which is why most of my family does not know that."

"Fine..." She whined and started sifting through the opposite end of your closet. "Oh, what about this?" Mina waved about the blue and green plaid skirt that made up your uniform from your middle school days when you lived in America. "Please try this on. I'm begging!"

You were pretty sure it wouldn't even go over your thighs anymore.

"It's got a better chance of fitting you!"

Mina threw it at you anyway. Slipping off the sweats you wore, somehow, someway, you were able to tug it on AND get it zipped, barely. It no longer covered your ass but you still enjoyed the way it swished around when you wiggled your hips.

"You could be fulfilling so many people's fantasies right now." Mina mused.

You pulled the skirt off and sweats back on, throwing the former back at her. "Yeah, you can take it and go fulfill Hanta's fantasies if you like. Not like I've got anyone to impress." You pulled down a dress you bought on sale a year ago but Mina was quick to dismiss it.

Too puffy, she said and then held up one that was from Momo. "I needed to get it shortened and I don't have time for that now."

"Wait..." She hummed and dropped the Momo dress. "I know what it should be!"

Mina hurried through the closet, grumbling about not finding it. "Just tell me which dress and I can tell you where it's at."

"It's that one you got for grad night and then you got sick and couldn't go!"

"Mina, Mina I can't wear that! That's actual vintage, not like, made-to-look-vintage!"

"But it's so elegant and has that off-the-shoulder sleeve thing. The wedding is at a damn sky lodge! It'll look so pretty in the snow! Ah! Found it!"

She yanked up the long, elegant gown from the garment bag you'd never removed it from. There wasn't a single wrinkle in the burgundy fabric. It looked just as beautiful as the day you found it in that second-hand store, on a mannequin with gaudy stage jewels that you just had to buy so the look was complete.

You ran the back of your hand over the velvety fabric, soft to the touch. "It'll be too tight now. If I was the same size I was at graduation-"

"Bullshit!" Mina cut you off with a dismissive hand, "You've got hips now. We aren't 18 anymore! It's not like it's some clubbing dress. And I bet no one would say a damn thing about your figure if they knew how easily you could crush them with those thighs!"

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without quirks, you gave every single one of your classmates a run for their money in hand to hand. Most were fairly easy to beat. You could usually take down Eijiro in about five or six minutes and Katsuki in half the time. Funny enough, it was Ochaco that gave you the hardest time.

"I'll consider it. But help me find something else just in case."

>>><<<

It was another two hours before you finally agreed on an a-line, empire waist green and gold number that had been the bridesmaid's dresses for Tetsutetsu's wedding. Mina thought they were a crime the first time they had to wear them, she had no idea what you were thinking.

That's why the moment you were preoccupied with trying to find yet another dress for the Sunday brunch, Mina pulled out her phone.

You: DO NOT, under any circumstances, allow Y/N to wear the green dress. She's bringing two because she can't decide. Red is the winner!

Jaws: Aw, come on. If she likes it, let her wear whatever she's comfortable in. She'll be under enough stress already.

You: Kirishima, it's the dress from Tetsu's wedding. The one that looks sparkly baby food.

It took him a second to respond.

Jaws: Alright. Understood. I thought you guys looked good but damn, she hated that dress.

You: We all did.

Mina looked at the message chain again and couldn't help but asked, "Are we just gonna ignore the fact that you and Eiji are flying all the way to America, last minute, to attend a wedding together, even though you're not together?"

"We've flown to the states before."

"For work!" She sat up eagerly. "This is different, Y/N! This is a date and not just a, like, casual date but a wedding date!"

You poked your head out of the closet. "No, it isn't. This is a friend helping another friend who stupidly mismarked an RSVP." You corrected very plainly but Mina wasn't one to give up so easily.

She whined, dragging out your name, "You guys have been doing this thing for ages. Why do you have to be so stubborn about it all!"

"What's that supposed to mean!"

Mina started ticking off points on her fingers. "He was the first person you opened up to at UA. You saved his life when he was busy saving Katsuki's life second year. You spent all that time interning together, became sidekicks together. Went to America together for three whole months, ALONE, and you honestly expect me to think there's nothing between the two of you!"

The truth of it all was simple really; 17 year old you had a massive crush on Eijiro Kirishima. He was sweet, always listening to you, providing comfort when you needed it, and always encouraging you to push your limits. He was bright and honest, a little slow in the head from time to time but that made him all the more endearing.

He was also head over heels in love with Katsuki Bakugo.

It was why you never made a move. Never spoke a word of the feelings you harbored. You didn't dare to cross that line with him because you couldn't ever hold a candle to the explosive man.

In the three years Eijiro and Katsuki spent together, your brain finally started registering Eijiro as just a friend, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. You thought your heart had followed suit but it was becoming more and more apparent that wasn't the case. Because the night he showed up at your door, tears in his ruby eyes, every lock you put on your heart broke open.

The same way you couldn't hold a candle to Katsuki, Eijiro couldn't hold one to Izuku. You knew exactly what he was feeling even if you never intended to tell him. Too overcome with fear. If Katsuki came back... that'd be it. Eijiro would go back and you wouldn't even blame him!

Still, the redhead consumed a decent chunk of your heart though, you couldn't deny that after the three months you spent together in America, gathering intel on a smuggling ring, living in the same apartment. The groggy, 'good mornings' when his voice was still scratchy with sleep, hair falling in his eyes. The late nights bandaging wounds and killing cheap bottles of wine while watching terrible American reality shows.

It was those bottles of wine that did you in on your second to last night in America. Supplying you with courage and draining your sense of reason, allowing you to crawl onto his lap, into his arms. You could still remember the pressure of his lips on yours, those sharp teeth gently dragging along your lower lip.

Scared hands tracing the curve of your ass before taking handfuls to squeeze. The laugh that came from you was unlike anything you heard before, something so genuine that you couldn't reproduce.

How it felt when he lifted you up and took you to his bed, laying you down taking his time removing your clothes, and watching with awe as you pulled away his own. The way he looked over top of you, his hair a curtain of red around you just before you closed your eyes, gasping while he filled you.

You also remembered the guilt that crept into your head during the wee hours of the morning, the doubt that was louder than the snores coming from behind you.

It made you slip from under his massive arm, gather up your clothes from his floor, you tucked the blanket around him, and pressed a kiss to his temple before padding out of the room.

You told yourself you'd talk to him about it if he brought it up, but he never did. Not the next morning, or night, not on the plane ride back home, nor anytime since. It was a memory you'd hold close to your heart, one you wouldn't let slip away or share.

"There's nothing there, Mina. We're just good friends is all." You lied with a smile on your face, something that had become surprisingly easy to do.

If only you knew that Mina saw right through it. That Mina already knew the truth of it all.

>>><<<

It was nearly one in the morning when your phone rang. The goofy picture of Eijiro with face half painted at a festival a few years back never failed to make you grin.

"It's a little late." You answered by way of greeting.

"Don't pretend like you were anywhere close to sleeping, you little night owl."

Chuckling at the nickname that had followed you since high school, "What's up, Eiji?"

"I was going over flights. You said in the office that you wanted to leave on Friday?"

"Yeah. I have patrol tomorrow and I didn't find any flights after 6 PM so, Friday is the earliest."

He was quiet on the other line for a moment. "Yeah, you don't have patrol tomorrow, or work at all for that matter."

You sat up a bit straighter in bed. "Um, yes I do."

"No, you don't. I called Mina, asked her if you'd mind taking that shift for you and, since she knows what's happening, she agreed the extra day for travel would do you some good. So, she's covering you tomorrow then you're off work until next Wednesday. As for me, thanks to all that overtime I put in when Denki, Kyoka, and Hitoshi got married, the three of them are splitting up my days so I have until Wednesday too."

Eijiro sounded impossibly proud on the other line, you could almost see the smirk on his face. "You've got this all planned out, don't you?"

"And a bag nearly packed. Just need you to tell me what ties to bring."

"Gold, burgundy, and black."

"Thought your mom said no black for you?"

"She said no black for the wedding. She said nothing about black at the brunch!"

You couldn't wait to put on the tea-length dress that had been a favorite for years. Satin with a lacy top and, best of all, pockets.

He let out a rumbling laugh that fell off into comfortable silence as you laid back in your bed, lights still on, the room still a mess. You tapped the speaker icon and laid the phone on the pillow right beside your head, listing to the various sounds of Eijiro moving around.

A door creaking open, a hanger clattering against another, and a zipper. "And just like that, I'm all set."

"Don't forget your passport or hero license."

"I have one in my wallet and the other in my backpack."

You swiped up on your iPad, off Netflix, and going to google, lazily searching through flights. "So, did you find any good flights since you've clearly been looking?"

Another chuckle, "Eijiro, why are you laughing?" More stifled giggles had you sitting up in bed again. "Just tell me a site you were on. They're just flights, what's so funny?"

"There isn't a site."

"You said you were checking flights."

"And I was... on my family's jet."

"Eiji! No! No, no, no! That is supposed to be for their business or hero things! My stupid cousin's wedding is neither of those things!"

"Relax, Y/N. My family has multiple and they don't have any business trips planned right now anyways. I already cleared it with my mom. Seriously, I just mention your name and she's likely to let me have it for a whole year at least. Plus Todoroki's is back up in working order so the agency is covered too."

Damn, why'd he have to be so good at planning from time to time! You'd completely forgotten about the second jet his family had. Always opting for the larger one since the few missions they needed it for required them to bring fifty or so heroes along.

"Besides, if we fly private, we can land at an airstrip closer to the venue and won't need to drive four hours on top of a ten-hour flight."

"Alright, okay, thank you but, let me take care of the rental car, please. It's the least you can let me do."

"Deal. I just have one more question for ya."

"What's that?"

"Wanna leave tonight?"

You nearly dropped your damn iPad in shock. "Eijiro! What the fuck has gotten into you! It's the middle of the night!"

"I'm excited!" He boomed, "I haven't had a vacation in months!"

"I hate to break this to you, buddy, but this isn't going to be a vacation. You really shouldn't get your hopes up. This isn't going to be a good time with laughs and fun memories... my family, they just, they aren't those kinds of people."

"But we are." He stated matter-of-factly. "If they want to have sticks up their asses then let them! We'll have a good time on our own, laugh and make fun memories! So, what do you say, Y/N? I can be at your place in fifteen. I just gotta put shoes on and grab my keys..."

"Wait, hang on. Are you forgetting that we need someone to, oh, I dunno, FLY THE PLANE! Actually, we need two someone's, can't forget about a co-pilot!"

He hummed happily and you rubbed your temples. "You, you have a pilot and a co, don't you, Eiji?"

"Mhm! There is a company we use. Two can be at the hanger in an hour and every hour after that. I just have to make the call and get the flight plan approved which will be done before I even get to your house."

There was literally no reason to say no. You had mostly everything packed, nothing you needed to get from the store, all you had to do was put on pants and pack up your hygiene bag and you were ready too. Maybe getting there quicker and getting the whole thing over with would be better than staying home dwelling on everything.

"Better put your shoes on."

The glee in his voice, that was enough to make this whole thing worth it, "I'll see you soon."

>>><<<

Eijiro reached into the backseat and plopped a bag down on your lap the very moment you were buckled in. "Had to make a pit stop." He explained.

"It's after two in the morning, where'd you have to..."

"Just open the bag and don't complain."

You found it filled to the brim with all your favorite snacks.

"I'm sure the plane will have a bunch of snacks we can raid but I know for a fact they don't have these." He held up a pack of cookies and creme flavored pocky that had been his favorite for as long as you'd known him, quickly followed by your favorite flavor too. You also found a massive bag of gummy worms and jolly ranchers.

"So, what you're telling me is our teeth are going to rot by the time we land? Not that I'm complaining."

You ripped open the bag of ranchers knowing that was what he'd go for first and sure enough his hand dove inside just as he pulled away from the curb. You could hear his dangerously sharp teeth biting through the rock candy like it was nothing while you still rolled one around your mouth.

Eijiro asked you about the resort you'd be going to, wondering if you'd been there before or what other stuff you guys could do when you weren't dealing with your family. "I figured we could fly back Monday night or Tuesday morning, you know, just play it by ear in case there was anything else we wanted to do."

More than anything, you wished you could just leech a little bit of that excitement from him. The glimpses of his smile you caught as you drove under the street lights made your heart ache.

"What?" He asked with that wide smile of his. You'd been caught staring, red-handed.

"I, uh, I just don't know what to tell you."

You could see the subtle change of his grin, watch as it softened and his hand came to rest on your thigh. "Hey, it's gonna be fine! And if we run into them while out doing stuff, you can just avoid them or hide behind me!" At least hiding behind Eijiro is an easy thing to do, damn mountain of a man.

His thumb slowly brushed back and forth. "'S gonna be okay. I'll beat 'em up if they're assholes!"

You snickered at his Katsuki impression and let the drone of the radio fill the air around you both. Enjoying the silence the rest of the way to the hanger with Eijiro's hand atop your leg.

#mha #bnha #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #eijiro kirishima #kirishima smut #mha x reader #mha x y/n

[schrodingersauthorii]

In honor of Salvage Ch. 18, I have prepared the first chapter of my Phoenix Salvage AU. @muffinlance , there’s one scene that’s 100% an improvement in my overall writing structure I pulled from you, and I bet NOBODY can tell which one it is.

—————————

The young soldier must have somehow heard the blade coming. He didn’t have time to cry out, but the panic stains his face. Not quite the easy death Hakoda wanted, but unavoidable, and still far kinder than leaving him to the sea.

Two years of fighting had left many too-young Fire Nation soldiers dead on this deck, but this was different than a battle. Different even than a mercy kill, back when they thought maybe Fire Nation prisoners would simply accept a fate other than death.

The soldier wouldn’t have left them any choice in the end. But he hadn’t forced their hands. Not yet.

One of the men murmured a prayer, a simple benediction for the journey to the next life. This wasn’t the clean up after a battle, and there might not Fire elders speaking rites for the kid somewhere across the sea. The soldier might only have what they give him, and they're pragmatic people- not cruel.

The Fire Nation burns their dead. That would be kindest, but if they could safely build a pyre, then they could have safely kept a firebending prisoner. The young soldier have a sea burial.

The corpse vetoed this. Violently.

Akake and Tuluk yelped, dropping the suddenly burning body onto the wooden deck.

Fire shouldn’t be green and purple, Hakoda barely had to think, and the fire disappeared. He blinked the sparks out of his eyes, and the deck was as clear. No fire, purple-green or otherwise. Just a vaguely soldier shaped mound of ash.

Hakoda reached down to touch it: barely warm, and not so much as a soot mark beneath it.

Something stirred. Something tiny. Hakoda grabbed it without giving himself time to think about it. Whatever it was squirmed frantically in his hand.

Hakoda looked down, expecting- something. A still beating heart, perhaps. A reptile or worm, at the very least. Something repulsive and macabre. But a tiny, down-feathered bird trembled in his hand. He brushed ash off of soft, orange wings. Even filthy, the fledgling glowed like sunrise.

“It’s a bird,” Hakoda said, dumbfounded.

“A bird,” Tuluk repeated.

The bird cheeped in distress. Hakoda started to pet it, but it nearly fell to the deck in its effort to escape his hand. He quickly cupped it with both hands instead. The bird pecked at his fingers.

The entire deck stared in stunned silence. What were they supposed to do with a bird?

————————

Tolko presented a box hastily stuffed with hay from the albatross-pidgeon coop. Hakoda carefully dropped the chick inside. It burrowed down into the loose “nest,” still cheeping incessantly.

“He’s so cute,” Tolko gasped. “What are we going to do with him?”

Tolko stared at the bird with love already in his eyes. The bird stared back with… suspicion. At the very least.

Hakoda’s temples begun a warning throb.

“Ask Kustaa if he can… find anything,” he finally said.

Tolko cooed at the bird as he walked away.

Hakoda felt a dreadful portent hum in his bones: this would not end well, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

------

“What is that?” Kustaa asked.

“A bird,” Tolko said. And held the chick up to Kustaa’s face, as if not seeing the puffball was the problem.

“Which might also be a Fire Nation soldier. The Chief wants to know if you can find anything.”

“A soldier.”

“Yeah. He was drifting past, we fished him out, but he was. You know. A Fire Nation soldier. And he said he was a firebender. So.”

“So what?”

“He kind of...died. And spontaneously combusted. The bird was in the ashes. See?”

Tolko brushed the bird’s head and held up a sooty finger. The chick couldn’t really floof in anger- it was already at maximum floof- but it gave its best impression of outrage anyway. Tolko hastily placed it on the table before it could tumble out of his hand.

“This is a bird,” Kustaa said. “I’m a healer, not an ornithologist. Or a shaman. All I’m qualified to say whether or not YOU have brain rot.”

“Umm…” Tolko mumbled.

“Any headaches? Blurred vision? Acute pain in your arms or legs? Motor difficulties?” Kustaa asked as he prodded Tolko’s arms.

“No?”

“Then we’ll work with the assumption that Spirits were involved, not Swamp Fever. Hopefully, a minor Spirit.”

Kustaa leaned down in front of the bird.

“Can you understand us: peck two times, then three.”

Low and behold, the bird did… then stared at them and pecked a deliberate pattern of some sort.

“I don’t understand that,” Kustaa said.

A storm of outraged peeping.

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Are you a Spirit, one peck for yes, two pecks for no.”

Two pecks, and more outraged peeping.

“...Are you a bird?”

In hindsight, it was incredibly bold of them to assume Zuko knew more than they did about anything.

--------

Tuluk entered Hakoda’s office after a single knock, and Hakoda’s temples immediately resumed pounding.

“Apparently, the bird insists he is the soldier, and NOT a Spirit,” Tuluk said.

Hakoda pinched the bridge of his nose. And resolved to make an offering soon. There were stories about shapeshifting Spirits who forgot they weren’t human.

“Keep an eye on him,” Hakoda said. “We’ll head to the nearest port and find an Earth Sage. This is exactly the kind of trouble we don’t need.”

Tuluk nodded grimly.

A thought struck Hakoda. “How did…?”

Tuluk sighed. “Lots of questions. Lots of patience. Kustaa is positively charmed with the little menace.”

“He’s a bird.”

“A mean one,” Tuluk agreed. “But he’s warmed to Kustaa and Tolko, for stars knows why.”

Hakoda didn’t like the idea of a Spirit getting… attached to his crew, but he liked the idea of an upset Spirit on his ship even less.

“Keep an eye on them, please,” Hakoda said.

Tuluk nodded, understanding in his eyes.

“I’ll do my best, but that’s a conversation you need to have with Kustaa and Tolko. Probably the rest of the crew, too.”

Hakoda’s headache sharpened with knife-like intensity. Tuluk eyed him with concern.

“Chief. Nobody will blame you if you need a drink before that. Kustaa’s almost ordered a shipwide medicinal order.”

Hakoda sighed.

“After,” he promised. And didn’t clarify after what.

—————————-

Their youngest crewman tucked the surly creature into his parka, from where it eyed everyone and everything with deep suspicion. Tolko kept up a mostly one-sided commentary, which the soldier-bird seemed surprisingly engaged with.

“Do you know his name?” Punuk asked as Tolko showed the bird their snack break offerings.

“No,” Tolko said through a mouthful of salted fish. “It’s the character for ‘righteous rule,’ but we couldn’t figure out the pronunciation. So Birdie it is.”

“Birdie” cheeped aggressively enough to attract the other crewmen’s attention for the first time in hours. There was still work to be done, and his constant noise quickly faded into the background.

“That’s terrible. How about… Sparky? Ember?”

“Blaze.”

“Inferno.”

“Red.”

“You can’t call him red, he’s pink.”

“He’s definitely more orange than pink.”

“Orange still isn’t red.”

Ragnalok tossed an empty water skin at the pair.

“Stop torturing the poor guy. He already died once today.”

The trio went quiet.

“Way too soon, man,” Panuk said.

Birdie was… worryingly quiet for several hours after that.

-------

Tolko roused in the middle of the night, awakened by a faint stirring of downy feathers and soft cooing. Birdy was awake. Tolko couldn’t see it, but dawn must be on the horizon.

Birds liked dawn. So did firebenders, presumably. It was early, but Tolko wasn’t tired-tired, so…

Tolko scooped Birdy up in one hand and slid out of his hammock. “We’ll go top deck,” he whispered as he tucked Birdy into his collar.

Birdy cheeped in a maybe grumpy, maybe affirmative way. But it was soft, so Tolko didn’t think he was upset. Birdy was very, very good at communicating when he was upset, bird or not.

It still seemed uncharacteristic. And Birdy was slumping on Tolko’s shoulder in a way he hadn’t yesterday.

Tolko scooped Birdy back into his hand, and Birdy just… cheeped quietly. Cheeped once and fell silent.

Okay. It was early: Birdy might just be tired. It was a Thing, that birds got sleepy when it was dark- even if it wasn’t actually night. They’d go topdeck and watch the sunrise, and if Birdie still seemed off he’d come back and wake Kustaa.

Tolko climbed the last stair just as the sun broke free of the horizon. Birdie chirped softly again, and Tolko held him out into the light.

“It’s beautiful,” Tolko said.

And Birdie once again caught fire on the Spirits damned deck.

#avatar the last airbender #fanfic #phoenix salvage

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

I know everyone likes the "secretly good villain whumpee..." but what about when the villain was a rat- bastard with very few redeeming qualities... just being injured and sick and oh so broken. Just begging for mercy, even though they were so arrogant and vicious before.

I melt at those scenarios.

I agree with that. If the villain is secretly good, you might as well call him or her a hero- or at least a vigilante.

Vicious and Bloody

Warnings: gorey(?) description of injuries, maggots, blood, vomit, mention of people dying, pus, field medicine, bathing, vomit, sleep deprivation, pills (tylenol and ibuprofen), attempted murder, implied past torture, hallucinations, fever, delirium

~

There was no rational answer for the scene in front of her. Not even the greastest minds in history could comprehend it- figuratively speaking. It was just so peculiar, odd and out of place, that it was like from a different dimension.

The said scene would be absolutely mortifying to the squeamish soul. Between the blood and the vomit and the maggots, the sight was more than revolting.

But still, ignoring her instincts to gag and run, Civilian crouched down next to the poor man- not touching, of course, it would only irritate his injuries further and be disgusting on many levels.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Civilian asked the man softly, brushing back the part of his grimey hair that wasn't intoxicated by maggots or too much blood.

But in doing that, she realized that the man wasn't even conscious. Which, was not surprising and brought a small relief to the nervous civilian.

But it also revealed his identity. Even without the foreboding mask, his features unmistakably were those of the most feared and vile human of the city.

Villain.

"If you ever see Villain, call the heroes. If he so happens to be incapacitated, kill him or injure him further to limit his ability of escape or to destroy."

That mandatory lesson rang through Civilian's ears nearly as loud as semi's horn. It was every civilian's responsibility- whether they were a certified hero or not- to hand it or dispose of any being against the government.

Especially Villain.

Especially without any doubt Villain.

Civilian sighed and observed the injured man's face. It was her responsibility to do this, the city would thank her, applaud her.

She brought her hands to Villain's neck and squeezed. His breaths hitched, but he didn't wake, not even to the sensation of suffocation. Civilian squeezed her eyes shut, but it did nothing to rid her mind of the horrendous sight of his already crimson stained face growing even redder... his lips paling then morphing into a grayish blue...

Civilian gasped, drawing her hands away from his neck. The villain's eyes shot open as he tried to fill his lungs, but as he heaved and wheezed, they kept rolling up and sliding closed.

"Hey!" Civilian exclaimed, tapping his shoulder. Villain's eyes shot open and he looked at Civilian with an expression filled with the unthinkable.

Fear.

Villain's lip trembled as he tried his hardest to scoot away. He whimpered something unintelligently and weakly held up a hand as if to protect himself from futher harm- as if the shaking limb could do anything other than wave aimlessly in the air.

Upon coming to the conclusion that escape was impossible, the villain resumed a position of pointless mewling.

"Don't hurt me," he whined, tears streaming down his cheeks, making the small cuts sting and itch. "D-don't hurt me. I've been bad, please don't remind me. P-please." He shifted his head into his elbow and sobbed.

Civilian didn't know what to do with the scenario, so she just allowed him to cry until he was too exhausted to do anything other than whimper pained pleas.

When his eyes started to droop, Civilian wrapped her arms around his upper body and heaved him into a sitting position- somewhat shocked of how limp and pliable he was.

Then she stopped. What was she doing? Villain was the most notoriously evil person in the city, if not the universe. He killed hundreds, thousands even including men, women, and children. He was undeserving of any level of comfort, whether that be love, care, or compassion.

Yet someone had to be worse than him to put him in such a nasty condition.

"Don't hurt me," Villain whispered, clinging to Civilian's shirt with all his might- as little as that was.

"I won't," Civilian promised, smiling down at the injured villain. The villain sighed and closed his eyes.

She had to help him now. It would be practically illegal to turn him in, or harm him even further. Well, metaphorically speaking.

Civilian dragged Villain into her house. Luckily, she owned a one-story, so bringing him to the bathroom was not too big of a deal- apart from the exertion on her slender arms, that was.

Immediately, Civilian stripped off the remains of his tattered clothing and sat him in the tub. Gingerly, she washed out the infection wounds, making sure all the maggots were gone.

After thirty minutes, she only finished the lower half of his body and his back and shoulders were much, much worse. It took another hour to get done with those.

Civilian took a second to catch her breath, she didn't realize how diligently she was working. The villain was completely clean, other than countless uneven holes that looked like someone grabbed his skin and pulled it out.

The next line of business was whether or not to give him stitches. Many of the remainding wounds were heavily infected and would benefit from being dried out.

Many of those infected wounds needed to be drained and removed.

Civilian sighed, thinking of her nursing classes. She had school tomorrow...

Someone was dying.

Someone with the name of Villain.

Civilian ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. She ran in through the sharpener a couple times before heating it on the stove to remove bacteria. Here goes...

Civilian cut into one of the infected abscesses and carefully drained the pus out. She sighed and wiped her hands on a papertowel. She should really be wearing gloves...

Villain jerked, suddenly awakening with a shriek. His eyes saw the knife and he froze, staring at it for a long time, before erupting into unstoppable sobs.

"Don't hurt me! P-p-please don't... knife," he wailed, trying to curl into himself.

"Stop it," Civilian tried to reason, clenching her teeth, as she pulled Villain away from himself. He started to rock, back and forth... back and forth... back and-

"Hurts," he whimpered.

"I know," Civilian whispered, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm trying to help."

"No. Pain."

"No pain?" Civilian repeated, trying to make sense of what Villain's intent of the statically said statement.

"No pain," he murmured, resting his head against the tub. "Take away."

"I don't have anything for the pain," Civilian told him softly. "Some nyquil, but I'd rather give you tylenol for the fever."

Villain looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Please," he begged..

"It's just gonna make you tired, not take away the full extent of the pain."

Villain let out a strained sob and kicked out with his feet. Pouting in the most pitiful way.

"Just," Civilian sighed. "Just. It's gonna hurt."

Civilian leveled the knife to another wound and drained it. Villain writhed in the beginning, but stopped when he realized his fate.

By the time each major abscess was drained, Villain was barely conscious, his head lolling groggily against the bath tub. Civilian gulped. She would have to disinfect the wounds now, but she didn't have anything for it...

Salt water, a saline solution.

Villain's screams did not leave Civilian's memory for a while, even when he was finally asleep on the couch. Civilian aimlessly rubbed his hand, whispering to him as he slept, but it all felt wrong. So, so wrong. All the people he hurt never got the same level of care that he was receiving- as if they had any at all.

But at the same time, it felt right. None of Villain's victim's injuries were as extreme as his- they either died or went to the hospital. Whoever tortured Villain wanted him to suffer, not that Villain wanted people to not suffer...

Crap, this was confusing herself.

Civilian cared for Villain throughout the night. The open textbook on her kitchen table did not even remind her of her class in the morning. Nothing could, especially when someone so sick seeked her hospitality.

Villain's fever raged and he was fed more and more tylenol. Eventually, she started to put ice packs around his neck and major arteries, but he was still so, so miserable.

He started to hallucinate. Sometimes whimpering about a bat flying around his head, or laughing giddily. But one of these episodes really stood out to Civilian.

"Curve, curve," he muttered as his cheek rested against the mattress- for some reason he kept flipping himself to his stomach. "Fall."

"Then cave." The delirious, but intense gaze the villain had made Civilian wonder if he was trying to tell her something in his fevered state.

"Man hurt."

Civilian shushed Villain and gave him a quick sip of water with an ibuprofen tablet. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Don't hurt me," Villain whispered, scratching at the sheets. "Please."

"I won't, sleep."

Villain slowly, oh so slowly nodded as he allowed his eyes to slip closed.

Civilian took care of Villain as best as she could. She really needed to get supplies, but it was dangerous to leave the villain unattended as sick and injured as he was. Infection set in agai, fever rose...

Civilian groaned and rubbed her head. She had a horrible headache from stress and lack of sleep.

Maybe a short nap wouldn't hurt...

When Civilian woke up, seven hours later, she found Villain shivering on the ground with vomit all over him.

"Dangit," Civilian groaned and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

Just dangit.

#villain whumpee #feverish villain #heros and villains #writing #whump #villain x civilian #civilian caretaker #sleep deprivation #tw death mention #past torture #maggots #infection #delirious whumpee #feverish whumpee #sick villain #sick whumpee #injured villain

[sourholland]

A Royal Convenience || Tom Holland

a royal convenience blurb - i highly suggest reading the series before reading this

a/n - this is much longer than my usual arc blurbs, it’s almost three thousand words. it’s very nostalgic, though. it’s almost like a second epilogue!

Many years had passed, the nineteenth century fading into a distant memory. As quickly as your youthful teenage years had dawned on you, they were gone just as fast. It was a bittersweet thing, watching your skin become ridden with age and stress.

Even in the years that had passed so feverishly, you could still recall the smell of fresh air as you stepped off that ship at eighteen years old. The times were changing, the people were changing. It was a progressive era, one you felt sad you wouldn’t be able to see through to the end. At the same time you were content, you had enjoyed a very disorderly youth.

In the time that passed, your children had now had their own children, some of which who had begun to have their own children. It was odd, to watch them as you and Tom once were.

“Granny?” Anne called out, Alexander’s youngest who had been named after your dearest, most loyal friend.

Anne had died shortly after the birth of your fourth child. She caught the fever, already into her older years. It was a difficult loss, terribly difficult. She had very fortunately been able to see your fourth child, Prince Leopold, take his first breath, offering his nickname. From that day on, he was called Leo.

When Alexander had named his only daughter after the woman he only remembered bits and pieces of, you wept. He knew how much you adored her, especially with all of the stories Tom had told him as he got older.

“Where’d you find that old thing?” You asked her humorously, noticing the large, very overcrowded scrapbook she was holding. “I haven’t seen that in ages.”

“I found it stowed away in some of papa’s old things,” she remarked. “I thought you might like to look through it.”

Anne was a curious thing, just sixteen and very keen to know everything and anything. She looked a lot like you as a young girl, with those eyes that Tom had passed to Alexander. Funny enough, she’d even inherited that same lopsided grin that you knew so well. It was the same one you’d been on the other end of for decades.

The scrapbook was quite familiar to you, especially being that it was so shoved full of things from when you had just been married. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, many years of neglect quite prominent in the condition.

“Of course, darling!” You smiled unwaveringly at her. “Set it down, let’s have a look.”

There was an inscription on the inside, reminding you that the book itself had been a wedding gift from Charlotte. It felt so long ago that she was just a dear friend and companion to you. She was your lady in waiting for a brief time, then she went on to marry Harrison and have two daughters.

To document many years to come and their happy memories.

Lottie

The next page caught you by surprise, only the first bit of the book and you were nearly in tears. In a grainy black font, clippings of at least five newspapers were pasted to the dull yellow page. It felt like you were being knocked into the past, hand grazing the paper gently. Smiling softly, you heard Anne chuckle from beside you.

THE PRINCE OF WALES ENGAGED TO BE WED THIS SPRING

“Were you scared?” She asked. “Auntie Maggie told me some.”

“I was absolutely mortified, if I’m being perfectly honest. I took a ship from France, for days I couldn’t keep anything down. Once I reached land, I was just happy to be able to step onto solid ground.”

Recalling the events of that day, you remembered your atrocious hair after the long journey and disheveled clothing. They’d put you in the carriage and sent you off like it was nothing, the next thing you knew, you were standing before the King and Queen of England. How bizarre times were, these days there was something called the automobile. Carriages would be out of fashion soon enough.

“Is it true, then?” Anne questioned bashfully. “I never believed that you and Grandfather could ever have hated each other.”

“Oh, you should have seen us that young and stubborn. He told me he’d never willingly marry me that day, I was furious.”

“What did you say?” She leaned forward as if it was gossip.

“I told him the feeling was mutual, of course!”

She erupted into a fit of girlish giggles, saying something about how she wished she could’ve seen it. You thought back to that moment, wishing you could tell your younger self how you would get through the hard times. How worth it, it would be.

Flipping to the next page, you could have cried with tears of joy. It was not uncommon to find pressed peonies around any space you inhabited, but this was one of the first white peony that Anne had ever threaded into your hair. It was from that first ball you’d attended, a week into your stay at Buckingham Palace.

Looking down at your lap, it was like your aged hands disappeared and you were seeing yourself from that moment. The blue gown you wore sat so nicely, the bitter taste of your situation re-emerging on your lips.

“Is there some significance of this dating?” She pointed to the small ink at the corner of the page: March, 1871

“There is,” you murmured to yourself. “It was a very significant night, when I wore these flowers in my hair. Ask your grandfather and I’m sure he’ll tell you all about how he called me childish and proud.”

Flipping to the next side, you sighed at the very tainted and tear-stained draft of a letter you’d intended to send to your mother. From what you remembered, this copy was very similar, but much less put together compared to what you actually sent. It had worn heavily with age, but some excerpts were clearly legible. Anne began to read aloud.

“‘I am writing to tell you that this wedding cannot go forth, it will be an absolute catastrophe for everyone,’” she read wearily. “‘I do not wish to marry the Prince of Wales, nor do I wish to become the Queen of England. Frankly, I would rather any other man.’”

She was skipping to see what made sense on the parchment, majority of it was unreadable and the authentic letter was long gone. Your mother had succumbed to disease many years ago. Some bit before your father died and Louis became King of France.

“‘Maman, please help me. Please tell me that it is not too late,’” she made out. “‘I cannot go on like this any longer, I will not. I love my liberty far too much to subject myself to such a fate.’”

“I was quite the fan of dramatics back then,” you laughed at the long and drawn out passages you’d written in hopes of a way home.

“Granny, it sounds like you were miserable in England,” Anne sighed, clearly taken aback. “I just don’t understand.”

And hopefully she never would, you thought to yourself.

It had been a lucky draw, yours and Tom’s situation. Love had blossomed from something more like hatred. You’d grown fond of each other, eventually building a life with each other. Many marriages forced at the hands of a monarchy were unalike.

Beside the drafted letter was a single slip of parchment, carved into it was a quote you remember so clearly from A Tale of Two Cities. The words were pushed deep into the paper, ink splattered all over it.

“Think now and then that there is a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you.”

Anne did not need to know of a certain auburn haired mistress that had inspired this little art project. Nettie Bennett was a name you had not spoken aloud in decades, a name you wished terribly to forget. You did not judge Tom based on Nettie, nor had you ever planned to throw her back in his face by telling Anne.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your granddaughter to keep such a thing close to her chest, but the fact that you had reserved that name for the past only. Anne need not think of her grandfather any less.

This time she moved to see what bit of history was next. It was a very familiar bit of sheet music, a Chopin duet to be specific. This memory was nearly tainted by Nikolai, but you chose to look at the more positive outcomes of that night. A boy and girl at the piano, sworn to despise each other at all odds. Only they couldn’t, not in that moment.

The next few pages were little things here and there, fabric swatches and drawn up plans from when they were crafting your wedding gown. Oh how disappointed everyone was when you’d chosen white. Anne asked a million questions, she spoke so fondly of the wedding that was held long before her birth.

The next was a headline you remember gravely:

SHOTS FIRED AT PRINCE OF WALES AND BRIDE

You definitely did not miss only being referred to as his bride. It was quite a tasking thing, being engaged to the next King of England. Anne had known the story from the carriage ride through Hyde Park, Tom told it every Christmas. He usually left out the part about how you’d teased him with your engagement ring.

“What’s this?” She asked, pointing to the bit of black lace threaded into the paper.

It was from the veil you’d worn that dreadful day at the Tower of London. It was a memory you wished not to rehash, one to never be forgotten, though. It had been the first and last public execution you witnessed.

“A story for another day,” you breathed.

Next was a bit of the corset Tom had ripped apart from that ball a few days later. Even now, the memory turned your face ablaze. Shaking your head, you wished to rid yourself of the burning sensation with a chuckle.

“How about this one?” She touched the corset, looking at you curiously.

“A story for—when you’re older.”

Looking to the next page, you realized it was the first photograph in the book. A black and white moment captured between you and Tom, straight faced and clearly vexed with each other at the time. You had just had a row the day before, it was by the pond on the property if you recalled correctly.

Nicola had dragged you inside to take the photograph, your ring on display very clearly. Your dress was light, Tom was looking rather put off with you. However, this was normal for the time it was taken. Beside it though, you barely remembered this photo. White spots covered the corners, but it was slightly off guard in a way that your face was slightly blurry from moving your head and he was staring at you so intently.

“Look at you,” Anne cooed. “You looked so beautiful, you look a bit like—”

“You,” you responded coyly. “That’s where you get your good looks.”

In a small bunch, you noticed the pins all pasted to the page of the next section in the book. You had retrieved them from the library floor after Tom pulled them from your hair in a fleeting decision. They were old, little pearls at the top of the clip. It had been a long time since you’d seen them.

Anne had pointed out the photograph of you and Tom during your engagement at Windsor Castle. Sam and Harry were beside you, Paddy still very short at your left. It was taken outside, you remembered all of the equipment being put out and the man who crouched underneath the black sheet to capture it.

“Windsor was what made me really fall in love with Tom,” you smiled at the memories. “It turned out being such a nice trip.”

“It must have been so magical,” she replied with a breathy laugh.

“Well, we’d had a bit of a row about a man called Nikolai. Another story for another day.”

As if the world was mocking you, there was another small note that Tom had written up and given to you on a spare bit of parchment. That night, well Tom had made sure Nikolai left the country. It was in his once pristine and very beautiful handwriting that had now gone shaky.

I need to speak with you, meet me in my chambers just following dinner.

— Tom

There was an assortment of small things, photographs of just you, some with Sam and Harry. You found stamped lilies from your wedding bouquet, eyes watering at the sight. Anne picked up the letter you knew all too well, it was Tom’s vows to you from your wedding day.

She read silently, a smile playing on her lips and she went on. It was quite nostalgic, to see that paper after such a long time. Setting the parchment down, she had tears in her eyes.

“That’s so romantic,” she said outwardly.

It was beginning to get late, watching Anne flip through some photographs from the beginning of your marriage. She found pictures from when Alexander had been born, and then when James came along. It was much more difficult to get them to sit still after Margaret was born and they were so hyperactive.

“We opted for paintings majority of the time,” you added. “Oh look, there’s Leo’s christening. He was the first and only with any actual photo from his, all of the rest only had paintings we commissioned.”

She watched the children grow up through old photos, little things pasted to the pages. When Leo was three, you had your fifth and final child. Princess Alice sat idly on your lap in one of the photos, she looked so happy. Her face was a bit blurry from movement, but you could make out her smile. Standing at your right was Alexander, he was nearly fourteen and looked so much like Tom when you first met. Beside him was James, twelve and disdainful looking. You remembered how adamant he was to not be taking this picture.

Margaret was six, her hair at her shoulders with a bright grin playing on her lips. She had a hand on her new sisters dress, looking down at her adoringly. Leo was three, his hair was slicked down and he only wanted to run around and play. His mouth was opening to speak, you could still remember what he was saying. Margaret had stepped on his foot so he was going to shout at her.

“Maggie!” He had yelled, his kid-voice making you laugh.

Finally shutting the book, your promised Anne that you would go through it more later on. She was saddened, wanting to see more, but agreed nonetheless.

“Don’t worry,” you told her. “I’ve got plenty more stories to tell you.”

#a royal convenience #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #elle’s fics #tom holland #prince!tom #tom holland series #tom holland blurb #royal!tom

[mst3kproject]

The Vampire's Ghost

I mean, I guess if ghosts exist and vampires can die then a vampire could become a ghost, sure.  This movie has Roy Barcroft from Radar Men from the Moon and Jimmy Aubrey from Swamp Diamonds, and a bunch of people who were in Westerns for most of their careers and aren't sure how they ended up in this jungle movie.  I picked it for those MST3K connections, for its promisingly b-movie-ish title, and also because I want to compare it with Curse of the Voodoo. The two movies have many things in common – but in other, important ways, they are quite different.

Nondescript handsome dude Roy Hendrick returns to the African village of Bakunda and learns that there has been a series of murders, all the corpses found drained of blood with wounds to the throat.  Rumors of vampirism are flying to and fro among the natives, but of course the white folks are above such primitive notions.  Roy goes to see Webb Fallon, owner of the local dive, who can usually be counted on to know what's up in the area.  While the two men investigate, their native servants quickly realize the blindingly obvious fact that Fallon himself is the vampire.  Roy, who is not so observant, saves Fallon from their assassination attempt and is rewarded by being placed in the vampire's hypnotic thrall.  He then cannot resist when Fallon steals Roy's girlfriend Julie and tries to make her his vampire bride!

So The Vampire's Ghost does definitely contain a vampire but that vampire is at no point a ghost – in fact, the movie ends basically immediately after he dies.  Disappointing.  Outside of that, though, this really isn't a terrible movie.  It's not a great movie by any means, not at all, but it meets a lot of the basic requirements that so many truly abysmal films fail to.  The story makes sense.  The characters are sufficiently differentiated that I know who's who.  Night scenes look like night scenes.  The movie doesn't waste time, except with a belly dancer sequence that goes on longer than it should but not long enough to actively piss me off.  I remained mostly interested and entertained throughout the run time. So yeah, honestly?  Could have been better, but could certainly have been worse.

A lot of the shortcomings here are budget related.  The Vampire's Ghost is clearly filmed on a bunch of 'jungle' soundstages and hastily-redressed sets from other movies, and the 'silver-tipped' spear that plays such an important role in the plot is just wrapped in aluminum foil.  The script is also rather bad, full of bald expository dialogue that the actors power through as best they can – which is often not very well, as none of them are particularly talented.  The guy playing Fallon himself is definitely weird-looking, with his thin face and bulging eyes, but he doesn't look very vampiric.  There's an absolutely dreadful barfight scene in which not one single punch even comes close to looking like it connects.

There isn't nearly enough character development.  The story hinges on Fallon's fascination with Julie, but we have no idea what he sees in her.  Peggy Stewart is pretty, but there's just not enough to Julie as a character for her to seem worth spending eternity with.  Nor is there much meat to Roy, which isn't helped by him spending much of the movie in bed with a fever.  We don't see the point to rooting for either of these characters.  Fallon's jealous mistress Lisa would have made a much more compelling heroine, but she and her other boyfriend are killed off for betraying him... which at least happens in one of the movie's most effectively tense sequences.

Some of the ideas in The Vampire's Ghost, on the other hand, are brilliant.  For example, there's the monster's name: Webb Fallon.  A 'web' is a trap, woven by a spider – a predatory creature that sucks the juices out of its victims. 'Fallon' is a name that means 'prince' in Gaeilge, somebody who rules over others, but is also reminiscent of the English adjective 'fallen', as in what happened to the angels who opposed God.  Or maybe it's supposed to make us think of 'felon', a criminal.  It's a name just brimming with nasty connotations and yet they remain subconscious until you actually give it some thought.  The first time you hear the name all you think is, “that is incredibly Irish.”

Second, there's the fact that the story is set in Africa.  Why would you have a vampire in Africa? Africa is generally thought of as a very sunny place and vampires fear the daylight!  Well, think about it – what else do vampires fear?  The obvious answer is 'crosses', and while local priest Father Gilchrist (a somewhat less subtly connotative name than 'Webb Fallon') has made certain inroads on the local population, many of them remain resolute heathens.  In fact, there's a bit in which the movie implies, though it never actually says, that in past centuries the people in this area used to worship Fallon himself as a god of merciful death!  While colonialism brings Fallon prosperity, it also brings the greatest possible threat to his continued existence.

(The movie does also deal with the daylight thing, though – Fallon can go out in the sun but it hurts his eyes.  This seems to tie in with a discredited theory that the myth of vampirism was inspired by the nervous system disorder porphyria, one of the symptoms of which is extreme sensitivity to light.  That's not why it was written that way, as the link was not proposed until the 1980's, but it's another example of these movies being eerily prescient in tiny ways.)

But I promised I was going to examine this movie in light of how it is like, or unlike, Curse of the Voodoo. Both films have a largely inactive protagonist who falls under a curse in Africa, and must regain control of himself in order to destroy the individual who cursed him.  Like Stacey, Roy spends much of the movie ill in bed until the advice of an outside expert spurs him to action.

The two movies differ in some important ways, though.  I don't want to give the impression that The Vampire's Ghost isn't racist, because it is.  Its natives are superstitious primitives who speak in broken English, and they function throughout the movie as a sort of threatening force in the background, who are liable to hurt the white people they blame for the presence of Fallon.  We are told that they are abandoning the plantations and returning to the jungle, and that Fallon is preying on them, but we don't see either of these things.  This unfortunately implies that what happens to the black people is not important, or perhaps that the film-makers feel we wouldn't be properly horrified by violence done to victims who are 'only' natives.  The best thing I can say for The Vampire's Ghost is that it at least doesn't expect us to celebrate the violent death of a black man the way Curse of the Voodoo did.

With that said, the natives of The Vampire's Ghost are not only a threat-slash-victim-pool.  Somebody has taught them how European vampires work, and they've been trying to warn the white people about Fallon but nobody listens to them.  When their suspicions about Fallon are confirmed as a bullet passes right through him, they try to take matters into their own hands and very nearly succeed.  Later in the movie, their help is invaluable as they use their drums to spread the word of Fallon's escape and allow Roy and Father Gilchrist to track him down to the temple of death.

One of the biggest differences between this and Curse of the Voodoo is how African religions are presented to the viewer.  While Curse of the Voodoo told us that the local gods were real, powerful, and evil, The Vampire's Ghost gives us native magic that is ineffective, but is entirely opposed to the evil represented by Fallon's vampirism.  Throughout the movie he repeatedly finds various dolls and amulets nailed to his door trying to ward him off, and he tosses them aside as irrelevant.  The Vampire's Ghost does not respect voodoo, but it at least entertains the idea of using magic to heal instead of to harm.

So if voodoo is no use against a vampire, and if Roy can't shrug off his influence by sheer force of will, what can anyone do?  Well, remember Father Gilchrist?  Yeah, one of the things I found myself thinking about in Curse of the Voodoo was that this was a world where supernatural evil was active but there was no supernatural good to help counter it.  The Vampire's Ghost gives us a universe in which God helps those who ask for it.  This isn't exactly easy, because first Roy has to admit he needs help and that's a difficult thing to do.  Then, God doesn't smite the vampire Himself, but merely grants Roy the ability to resist Fallon's control.  This is quite nicely-handled, a plot point rather than a deus ex machina, and is even set up somewhat by an earlier interaction between Gilchrist and Fallon.

Unfortunately, this ending follows on from what is probably the stupidest and/or most racist thing in the movie.  Roy, who has been delirious for two weeks, comes out of it and says, “hey, guys, Fallon's a vampire”... and everybody believes him?  Even worse, this is after they didn't believe the perfectly healthy but black people who'd been telling them the same thing for months?  Yikes.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the vampire's ghost #boy are we in africa! #40s

[thegeminisage]

birthday meta for the birthday boy <3

[this version of the meta is behind a cut. if you’d prefer the no-cut version, it’s here.]

a fun little fanon from Ye Olde Days of spn (when seasons 1-5 were airing) was that sam always had the absolute worst birthdays. a big part of this is because sam’s birthday is in may. supernatural tends to align itself with “real time,” meaning that they like to use either the date the episode was filmed or the date it aired as the in-universe date, even when two canon dates conflict each other. (they’re so intent on doing this that they pretended the gap years between s5 & s6 and s7 & s8 right out of existence - season openers also usually tend to pick up right after season finales in-universe but still somehow be set several months later.) that means sam’s birthday tends to line up with the airdates on either season finales or episodes right before the finales, which means that every time sam gets a year old, shit hits the fan. 

here’s a list of things that did happen or could have happened on some of sam's birthdays:

0-22: we don’t have much in the way as far as concrete dates go for preseries stuff, but it’s perfectly possible sam walked out all that bullshit the day he turned 18, even if i prefer to think he left at age 19 as that aligns rather tragically with some adam-related canon.

23: we don’t have any dates for the end of s1/opening of s2 either, but it’s likely that sam’s birthday took place between 1.20 (dead man’s blood) and 2.01 (in my time of dying). he could have been doing anything from hunting vampires to saving one of YED’s special children to almost shooting his possessed father to getting hit by a semi to using a ouija board to talk to his not-quite-dead brother.

24: here’s where the real fun starts >:) sam died in cold oak in 2.21 (all breaks loose pt 1) and in the episode he says he’s 23. but according to the lore (extra-canonical material), dean made the deal to bring him back on his 24th birthday...

25: ...which means that on his 25th birthday, he was forced to watch dean get dragged to hell...

25b: ...except that sam had TWO 25th birthdays, because mystery spot took place in february, and sam lived in an alternate timeline where dean stayed dead for 6 months, putting him well past may 2nd. which meant that the first time he turned 25, he was actually getting tortured by gabriel. while his brother was getting tortured (or torturing someone else) in hell.

26: 4.20 (the rapture) took place in very late april/very early may (the wiki says may 3, but that’s just a guess), and 4.21 (when the levee breaks) picks up immediately where it left off. so it’s not only plausible but EXTREMELY LIKELY that sam was locked up in the panic room suffering withdrawals when he turned 26, dude

26b: ...except that in 11.17 (safe house), bobby and rufus’s half of the episode presumably takes place at the same time during season 4, and he mentions sam and dean are in reno?? so you know they could have been doing that instead.

27: we have no hard and fast dates for the end of season 5, but it’s my personal headcanon that sam’s birthday took place during 5.22 (swan song), and he beat the devil and leapt into hell on the day he turned 27 - because at this point, why not. however, his birthday could also have taken place during either 5.20 (the devil you know) or 5.21 (two minutes to midnight), meaning he was reconfronting his old college pal who turned out to be a demon brady, or helping bobby and a human cas destroy the factory with the croatoan virus.

28: there’s a gap year between s5 and s6, so sam’s 28th birthday took place while he was soulless, hunting with the campbell family...

28b: ...except spn likes to say “a year passed” without adding one to the calendar, so sam ALSO had a 28th birthday during the airing of s6. there’s some conflicting information about s6′s timeline, so this could have happened anywhere from 6.18 (frontierland) to 6.21 (let it bleed). sam could have been doing anything from time traveling to fighting eve to grappling with cas going dark side to rescuing lisa and ben.

29: sam’s 29th birthday almost definitely took place during 7.20 (the girl with the dungeons and dragons tattoo), during which he met charlie. in case you’ve forgotten, that was actually a great day for him - in a moment of true little brother antics and justifiable homophobia, he got to laugh at dean gay flirting with the security guard.

30: there was another gap year between s7 and s8, which means that sam spent the big three-oh with amelia richardson while dean and cas were in purgatory. he got to have a picnic!

30b: ...but since spn ignores gap years, sam ALSO had a 30th birthday during s8 (a big season for him). there isn’t an exact date for the episodes leading up to the finale, which takes place in late may, after sam’s birthday, so his birthday could have taken place in either 8.21 (the great escapist), where he nearly died of his trial-induced fever and confessed to dean that he always felt unclean, or during 8.22 (clip show), where he met sarah blake again after nearly a decade, only to have her die right in front of him.

31: the s9 timeline is pretty vague, but the best guess for this one is 9.18 (meta fiction), in which sam finally gets to confront gadreel, the angel who possessed him and killed kevin with his hands

32: the s10 timeline is also short on dates, so sam’s birthday could have taken place anywhere between 10.16 (paint it black) and 10.21 (dark dynasty). a few possible things sam could have been doing: dealing with a hunt involving soulless people, helping cas and bobby break metatron out of heaven’s prison, catching up with charlie and giving rowena the book of the damned, battling the cursed werther house (don’t click that unless you’ve seen the episode, the twist is TOO good), reuniting claire with her mom, or building charlie’s pyre.

33: the last quarter or so of s11 happens really quickly sequentially, every episode picking up soon after the last one left off, which means that sam’s birthday either took place at the very end of the season or the beginning of s12. it’s most likely he turned 33 either the day dean saved the sun and sam himself got shot and kidnapped by toni bevell, or a few days later when he was being held captive and tortured in her basement.

34: unfortunately, sam’s 34th birthday almost definitely took place during 12.21 (there’s something about mary). i was really hoping it’d be 12.22 so he could be kicking the bmol’s asses, learning lucifer was back, and hugging mary, but no...instead he was mostly likely learning that ketch had had eileen killed. 

35: because of some weird canon, the timeline for season 13 is actually batshit insane and makes no sense whatsoever, which means sam’s birthday is really early this season - either during 13.17 (the thing) where he rescues his brother from a frisky tentacle monster or 13.18 (bring ‘em back alive) where he hangs out with gabriel and cas in the bunker. since that’s garbage, you’d be forgiven for ignoring canon and pretending sam’s birthday fell on one of the following episodes - 13.19 (funeralia) is very touching, as he and rowena clash and then make up with each other; 13.21 (beat the devil) has sam capturing lucifer, then dying and getting revived and captured by him; 13.22 has sam getting a little revenge by leaving lucifer for dead; 13.23, of course, has lucifer finally dying for good.

36: there’s no dates whatsoever on the back half of s14, so theoretically sam’s birthday could take place in any episode after 14.13 (lebanon). the likeliest and COOLEST candidate is for sam to turn 36 during 14.20, in which he shoots god himself point blank. other admittedly inferior  scenarios include his stint as justin the 50s househusband, mary’s death, or putting jack in the ma’lak box.

37: we saw this birthday happen onscreen during 15.14 (last holiday) at a party thrown by mrs. butters. unfortunately, not too long after that, she wound up torturing him by pulling out his fingernails.

38: that’s this year! because the timeline of s15 is also so weird and vague, partially fucked up by covid changing the shooting/airing times, and because sam’s birthday is SO early in s15, it’s possible that he has another one this season, right at the end, or maybe post-canon, which means............................................

...................................................that he’s spending it with dean and jack and the newly revived eileen and cas, in the bunker or somewhere else he feels safe and loved :)

happy birthday, sam winchester <3 after all the unhappy ones...u deserve it

[spn masterpost]

#sam winchester #supernatural #liz's meta #liz's spn stuff #long post #never in my life have i had to fight so hard to post a meta #tumblr tried to delete this TWO TIMES

[arteacactus]

Can we get a sick fic Janus hiding in his room until someone else breaks down the door? Cause he thought no one would care

this is so out of nowhere bc i like never get fic requests here anymore it’s like always on my sideblog hissceit ,, but it’s 10000% welcome and appreciated JDFJFD thank u .. also i apologize for how needlessly wordy this is HAHA i strayed from the prompt like .. a lot

warnings for sickness , the coughs , vomiting, sore throat , etc , the whole shebang-- and some cursing 

-----

It’s not that Janus had never been sick before, it’s just that...

Well, he’d never been sick before.

He wasn’t positive why (which irked him; he hated being in the dark about things, especially things concerning himself), but he had some theories- the most plausible one thus far simply being that while Thomas had always viewed the Light Sides as human, to some extent, he saw Janus as a two-faced snake; a monster kept hidden away in the shadows under his bed. And monsters didn’t get touched by things like disease. So while the others got touched with sickness occasionally, Janus never did.

But if Janus was getting sick now..

That implied that after he told them his name, Thomas started seeing him as somewhat human, too, with vulnerabilities like the rest.

He wasn’t sure just how he felt about that, but he didn’t love it (he liked being untouchable, okay?).

Ah, well, Janus supposed the why didn’t matter much at the moment. He could ponder that after the fact.

Right now was the time to think about how to end it, because it was pure torture.

He was too hot and too cold all at once, his head throbbed and his body ached in places he never knew could ache, his eyes were sore and oozing and his nose wasn’t faring much better. His throat was raw as if he’d spent hours and hours screaming at nothing, and even after trudging his way into the Dark Side’s kitchen for a cup of tea (though it was more like a cup of honey and lemon with a hint of green tea), it felt absolutely no better; in fact, he just felt worse, because he had to leave bed, go downstairs, spend twenty minutes standing around to make the tea, and then go back up the stairs to his room again.

He’d been fidgeting with his blankets for the past three hours; having them on made him too hot, having them off made him too cold, and so he settled for having one leg covered and nothing else (oddly enough, this was actually a good compromise). The air in his room was hot and stuffy which certainly didn’t help- nor did it help his sinuses any, as it made his headache pound worse and his airways were thoroughly blocked off. He dreaded drinking or swallowing anything as it sent the most uncomfortably painful sensation down his throat and rendered him to a groaning, pained mess.

He clutched his pillow weakly, pressing his head into the hot surface. He hated this. Usually, he thrived in the heat, as his room was typically colder than a jail cell, but this time he wanted it gone. He wished it was winter, just so he could full-body launch himself into a mound of snow and sleep for eternity. 

He felt a slight tug, the distinct feeling of someone requesting his presence, and promptly shooed it away. Not only was he just wearing pants, but he was sick, and he’d rather die than show that level of weakness to anybody.

Three days before, when he’d first felt his symptoms come on, he’d briefly considered going to someone for help; perhaps Remus, because he was his best friend, or Logan, because surely he’d know how to handle diseases and how to cure them, or maybe even Patton, because he was a father figure and might have even made him soup- but he had quickly banished the thought. Sure, maybe they knew his name now, but they still really didn’t like him and had absolutely no reason to help him and not laugh at his predicament.

Well. Remus liked him well enough, but he would have just taken his morning star and bashed Janus across the head with it and called it good, so Janus had to pass on that.

Another tug came, a little more forcefully this time, and Janus dismissed it, just as forcefully. For a little precaution, he took a deep breath and waved his hand, locking up his room so no one could rise up/appear in it, nor could they come through his door. The strain it put on him to maintain that lock was almost enough to make him pass out, but he didn’t dare remove it; he couldn’t risk anybody seeing him in this state. 

He forced his body to roll over to the side, pressing his face into his pillow and sighing in relief as his nose unplugged just enough to take a deep breath in. He found himself actually wishing he’d sneeze, just for the temporary relief it brought. 

He pointedly ignored the next few tugs that hit him, though they weren’t as forceful and harsh as the past couple were. He could only assume the only reason they actually wanted him up there was to lecture him, because him being incapacitated like this surely was affecting Thomas in some way that they didn’t like.

Well, sucks to be them, Janus thought in mild frustration, I’m staying right here until this all goes away and I don’t want to die anymore.

Eventually, the incessant tugging slowed to a stop, and then they finally left him alone.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Janus curled his body into a tight ball, cringing at the sticky feeling of his sweaty skin against his silk sheets, and tried to fall asleep.

Thankfully, sleep claimed him easily, and he drifted off.

However easily it came, though, it certainly wasn’t very forgiving. 

He didn't wake up randomly, but he kept getting thrown so many vivid nightmares and odd, fever-induced dreams that he almost wished he was waking up every few minutes, if only to get away from whatever things his mind kept throwing at him.

He wasn’t awake, but he was aware of his own constant tossing and turning, his bed creaking in protest every time he thrashed and threw his body around the mattress, and when he finally did open his eyes (his throbbing head wasn’t very appreciative of it), he realized he’d somehow twisted himself so his head was at the foot of his bead and his blankets had been fully tossed onto the floor. His pillows weren’t faring much better; only two of his usual six remained in place, and they were mangled to death, the rest on the floor with his blankets.

Janus truly couldn’t bring himself to give a damn- instead, he weakly pushed his body upright, trying not to topple over as his head swam, and fell right back down in the proper position. Thankfully, though, his head not touching the pillows in a while meant they were delightfully chilled, and he moaned aloud at the lovely sensation it brought him. Absently he wondered if he should gather the strength to get himself an ice pack or run an ice bath, but thought better of it. After all, he was still part snake; he’d rather not throw himself into a self-induced comatose state from the cold. 

He blindly reached out and grabbed ahold of his bedside clock, a little antique thing he designed himself to fit his aesthetic despite being very poor at reading Roman numerals, and squinted as he tried to decipher how long he’d been asleep for.

He nearly dropped the thing upon realizing he’d slept for eleven straight hours.

He slid it back onto his nightstand and groaned loudly, though it quickly turned into a pained, chest-wracking cough. He couldn’t avoid it; he had to get up and eat something, or drink something, or get literally anything in his body, because whether he liked it or not, that was the only way he was going to get over this thing quicker. 

He managed to move just enough to get up and off the bed (nevermind the fact he nearly fell straight on the floor the second he stood), and took a couple shaky steps towards the door. The moment he reached out to turn the knob, though, the knocking started.

He froze, looking like a deer caught in headlights as he stared wide-eyed at the piece of wood in front of him, the only thing separating him from them.

There was a call of ‘Janus?’ that was so soft, Janus didn’t actually know who it came from; but that didn’t matter now, because the doorknob was turning and fuck, when did he let go of his lock?

Janus snapped his fingers, and managed to summon all but his hat when the door opened and revealed- much to his surprise- Virgil.

Janus and Virgil blinked at each other for a moment, dumbfounded, but thankfully, Virgil didn’t seem to see anything off about him, and just lowered his gaze and shrunk into his hoodie, refusing to meet Janus’ eyes.

“We- uh, they were trying to call you earlier today, you know.” Virgil’s voice was low and gruff, and Janus could honestly say this was the best possible Side to come see him. Remus was loud and shrill, Patton was too cheery and Roman was boisterous- Logan probably wouldn’t have been awful, but with his insistence to look everyone in the eye as he spoke to them, Janus was sure he’d have deciphered what was going on in a second.

“I’m aware,” Janus replied, internally cringing at his rough tone. He cleared his throat, which was screaming in protest at speaking. 

Virgil didn't seem to notice- or if he did, he didn’t care. “Well. You made them worry, and they sent me to come collect you.”

“Worr- Collect?” Janus echoed in confusion, taken off guard by everything Virgil said.

“Yeah, uh, you worried them so now they won’t take no for an answer. You’re gonna have to come with me.” Virgil, at least, seemed a little sheepish saying this, but he also has a particularly determined and frustrated look to him. Clearly, he wasn’t happy being the one picked to come ‘collect’ Janus, and he wasn’t going to take no from him as an answer, either.

“Wh-” Janus was cut off as Virgil gripped his arm, and any protests he could have made died on his tongue as they started moving. Dizziness attacked him with such ferocity that he was honestly astounded that he hadn’t immediately fallen over, and his stomach lurched at the speed they were moving. Of course, he didn’t bring this up, just took a deep breath and pushed through. After all, Virgil was the last person he wanted to know about his current state.

Once Virgil brought them across the line that separated the Dark Sides from the Light Sides, the immediate bright artificial light from the lamps and ceiling lights making his head pound in a way that was even worse than what the red light of the heat lamps in the snake terrariums in his room caused. 

The air here, though, was clear and fresh, and he basked in the coolness of it as it surrounded him. If it wasn’t for the lights, he’d almost be tempted ask to stay for a while.

Once they made it to the living room, Virgil released him from his grasp, and slunk over into his own corner in the stairwell- and Janus found himself standing right next to Logan.

Unfortunately, they were all staring at him.

Time to put your acting skills to work, Janus, he thought to himself as he heaved an internal sigh, and plastered a toothy grin on his face that bared his sharp canines just enough to make them flinch away.

“So. I was summoned?” His throat protested speech, but thankfully his voice came out smooth and silky, not one bit of it hinting towards his predicament.

“Yeah, and you never answered..?” Thomas seemed more concerned than anything, but Janus definitely saw some suspicion on Roman’s expression (he couldn’t blame him, after how his name reveal went), and Patton was more fidgety than usual. Logan, bless him, didn’t seem to be acting any different, and Virgil looked just as bored as he usually was.

Remus, however...

Well, Remus was looking at Janus with a suspicious gaze similar to Roman’s but far more scrutinizing. Janus briefly felt a flare of panic. If there was anyone here to notice he was off, it would be his best friend, who he lived with and saw every day.

“I was resting, Thomas, would you blame your personification of self-preservation for taking a day off for self-care?” Janus’ tone was exasperated. He wasn’t lying, not really; he was resting, and he was taking a day off for self-care.

Just.. more than one day.

“Respectfully, I have to.. what is the term, ‘call bullshit’?” Came Logan’s voice next to him, and he hoped to God that Logan didn’t notice Janus’ feverish tremors. “You’ve been MIA for the past few days, and it’s escalated to the point where Thomas is beginning to react to it. There is something else going on, and we’d like to know what’s going on.”

Ah, yes, for the good of Thomas, Janus couldn’t help but think a little bitterly, Really, I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like they’d worry about my wellbeing. “I’m afraid I wasn’t bullshitting you, Logan,” Janus replied coolly, “It was the truth.”

“Then how come your room looked trashier than Remus’?” Virgil’s voice, where earlier it was comfortingly gruff, was now an offputting growl. Despite his words, though, Janus could tell he was trying to act like he didn’t actually care. He took note of that, because Virgil caring about him was odd.

“Rearranging,” Janus replied simply, and hoped they took that alone as an acceptable answer.

Of course, they didn’t.

“You never rearrange,” Virgil’s tone turned accusatory, and then Patton cut in. 

“Well, maybe then that’s why he’s doing it now? For something fresh?” He sounded hopeful, as if he couldn’t wait for this entire conversation to be over. Janus felt similarly.

“I’ve lived with him, Patton, I know him, and it’s not something that happens.” Virgil argued, but this seemed to set off Remus as he cut in with, “And you left, so who are you to claim you ‘know him’?”

This sparked an argument amongst themselves, as they fought over the sudden new topic that thankfully centered around Virgil more than anything, and with Logan, Roman, and Thomas trying to mediate, there was no attention put on him anymore.

Janus took this momentary distraction to let out a sigh of relief, the mix of loud voices and trying to act like nothing was up was doing absolutely no good for his headache and exhaustion. He mourned the loss of his hat, because he could have used that to hide his face away from the lights that were bearing down on him and making his skin feel uncomfortably hot.

Though perhaps that was from all the layers of his outfit.

Unfortunately, though, as the seconds passed, the voices seemed to get louder, the lights got brighter, the clothes got hotter and his stomach was churning, his hands were sweating, his head was pounding his legs were getting shaky oh god his ears were ringing oh fuck fuck stop the noise please turn off the lights please stop please stop-

Distantly, he felt his throat start hurting intensely and he realized he was speaking out loud, stammering out pleads that were growing muffled as everything swamped him. His hands raised to cover his ears, trying to drown out the noise around him, and his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed, feeling something warm and wet trickle down his face- tears? Was he crying? No, surely he was just imagining the feeling- but before he hit the hard floor, he felt something grab a hold of him, long, spider-like fingers gripping the undersides of his arms like a lifeline. He felt sharp nails and soft ruffles and realized Remus had caught him, he must have run from his spot to catch him before he fell, and Janus felt the stinging gaze of everybody on him. He felt like a mouse that was dropped into a snake’s cage for feeding, cowering beneath the penetrating gaze of the predator before him. The roles were reversed, and he hated it.

He managed to pry open his own eyes- when had he shut them?- and the moment he saw the horrified gazes trained on him, he fled.

He forced himself from Remus’ arms and he vanished, retreating back to his room, where the lights were off and the curtains were shut and the only thing he had to deal with was the light of his snakes’ heat lamps.

The hot, stuffy air attacked him with a vengeance, though, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He stripped himself of his clothes again, his skin glistening, heat radiating off of his person. 

He hurriedly locked up his room again, and fell to his knees beside his bed, and retched.

Thankfully, he’d managed to grab his trashcan, but it didn’t make him feel any less humiliated.

He thought he was doing himself a favor, hiding his state from all of them, but from not going to just one of them when he could, he had ended up breaking down in front of all of them. 

Body trembling and chest heaving, Janus collapsed onto the hard floor beneath him, unable to pull himself onto his bed, and curled up into a tight ball.

He wanted this to end.

Janus was so caught up in his misery that he didn’t even notice pounding on his door, all of his senses wrapped up in himself, in his throbbing head and hot skin and burning throat and sore stomach and the sound of his blood pumping in his ears, until there was a deafening ‘crash’ and splinters of wood came flying into his room.

He flinched at the noise and forced himself to sit up, but the sudden movement made him gag, and he found himself panting like a dog trying to cool himself off and calm down his raging nausea. 

There was a barrage of voices at first, but they were quickly hushed- from what, he didn’t know- and then a delightfully cold hand clutched his bicep, and he couldn’t hold back the relieved moan he let out in response.

“I’m gonna put you in bed, okay, Janus?” Came a soft voice- Remus- and Janus didn’t protest as he was gently lifted up by the Creative twin. Admittedly, he didn’t even know Remus could be that gentle, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

There was some quiet shuffling and the sound of a dull ‘smack’ and then someone cursing softly, but soon enough Janus was set down on a set of smooth cotton sheets, clean and cool, and an absolute blessing.

“Jan-Jan, why didn’t you tell us you were sick?” Remus’ tone was scolding, like a parent to a young child (ironic, considering Janus was the one who raised Remus), and Janus opened his eyes just enough to see Remus’ face swathed in the shadows of his room. 

“Weak,” Janus croaked in reply, his voice wrecked, “Di’n.. wan’ see.”

“Your pride is going to be the death of you,” Remus sighed, and Janus heard some other voices pipe in.

“We would have helped you, Janus,” Thomas sounded sad, almost regretful. For what, Janus would never know.

“Indeed,” Logan’s voice was a comfort, Janus was willing to admit. “In fact, I will begin researching how to best care for this as soon as possible, so you are in utmost comfort while you recover.”

“I’ll make some soup,” Came Patton’s quiet promise, “And water, and tea.”

“I changed your bedsheets,” Roman seemed shy, “If you need me to, I can try and make a set that keeps you cooled down.”

Janus almost moaned aloud at the thought, and Roman must have seen it in his expression because he perked up right away. 

“Sorry for, uh, dragging you away so forcefully,” Virgil muttered, and Janus just managed to flap his hand dismissively. 

“You didn’ know.” He mumbled weakly, and he felt Remus’ cool touch brush away hair that clung to his sweaty forehead. 

“And now we do. So we’re going to take care of you, because we care about you.” He promised in a tone with no room for argument, with the others murmuring in agreement behind him.

And for once, Janus believed him, and let himself be taken care of.

#vanna talks #ask #anonymous #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sickfic #fic #fanfic #sanders sides #tssides #thomas sanders #fanfiction #platonic dlamptr #with a slight focus on dukeceit i suppose #Anonymous

[skellebonez]

Since it's been a while since I prompted you, 38/51 for Traffic Light Trio and Spicynoodleshipping?

It’s also been a while since you... sent this... I am getting through my prompts slowly but surely! Hopefully the wait was worth it, it has been a while since I have written TLT or SpicyNoodles alone so this was really enjoyable! I apparently missed this more than I realized as this is quite long! (There are references to a past fill as well, but this can be read stand alone.)

If you move from that spot, so help me, I will tie you down/Can you two save the kissing for later?

“For the love of- stop trying to get up Noodle-Brain!” Red Son snapped, albeit more with exasperated worry than anger this time. “You’re only going to make it worse!”

“No, really, I’m fine!” Xiaotian insisted, moving to once again attempt to stand.

He was not fine and his face soon came into contact with an impromptu date with Red Son’s open palm, catching him before he landed on the floor instead. Normally Xiaotian would have pulled his face back with a muttered "sorry" or "thanks" or "wow Red that was shockingly nice of you".

Instead he groaned and allowed himself to just kind of... hang there, his weight being held by that palm that probably felt oddly normal temperatured to him at the moment. Understandable given that his face was flushed red and that even to Red's naturally warmer body temperature touch he felt overheated in fever.

This was not quite the sight Red Son had expected to see when he had ventured out into the city on his own, just wanting to have some kind of time away from his work to gather his thoughts about... well, a lot of things. Ever since the entire fiasco with the Lunar New Year festival his mind had been wandering back toward when he worked with Xiaotian and Xiaojiao and things that happened afterwards.

He still had the phone he had accidentally kept from the green dragon and they had talked a few times. More than a few times. ... ok, maybe they had been texting near daily and had calls every other night and maybe he started watching her streams out of curiosity, and maybe he had been added to a group chat with the Noodle Boy and started to text him too, but he didn't really have anyone else to talk to outside of the his parents and Bull Clones! They were still enemies, just friendly ones! Frenemies! And it had been... nice. To talk to someone who seemed interested in what he wanted to say. And maybe understood him a little. Maybe possibly... didn't actually dislike him as much as he had believed initially.

... and maybe Red Son was deluding himself when he said he didn't actually like either of them, but that was neither here nor there! His thoughts were getting away from him!

The point was thus- he'd gone into the city for a break with the intention of heading to his private apartment he had for such occasions, happened upon one Noodle Boy laying face down on the seat of his (otherwise empty and clearly not being used for work that day) delivery vehicle looking absolutely miserable and burning up, and against his better judgment he took him back to said apartment. That was shockingly easy considering Xiaotian was pretty much passed out due to the high fever combined with his moving around and the fact Red Son could lift the vehicle himself if he wanted to (he didn't, he just took the keys with them so no one would make off with it).

And so that was how Red Son found himself in this predicament. In his apartment with the AC on just enough to be slightly uncomfortable, one sick Monkie Kid doing his best to remove himself from his couch with a cold compress on his forehead while insisting he was fine when he clearly was not, debating on whether or not he should have taken this dumbass to the hospital instead. If only because he was being frustrating to keep still.

"You are most clearly not 'fine', now lay back down," Red Son said with a warning growl, pushing his rival (gently, he wouldn't be so callous as to kick someone while they were down like this) back into the mound of pillows he had laid out for him. He never had visitors so he may as well make the best of this and pull out what he had in storage so they could be used for once. "If you move from that spot, so help me, I will tie you down."

"... ok," Xiaotian finally acquiesced, closing his eyes and laying back into the plush around him and looking even worse than he had before he had been trying to convince the other he was fine. (Though had he not looked clearly sick the sight would have been almost cute to-NO! Red was not going to think that.)

Red Son didn't know what precisely was wrong with him, though based on his symptoms and reactions it was likely a basic but now out of control flu (regardless, he knew he himself was in little to no danger of most human illnesses) and helping him recuperate here (because no one except Red Son was allowed to defeat the Monkie Kid, not even an illness!) was looking like a more reasonable idea now. But he couldn't help but wonder how had the other man allowed himself to get this bad. Why had he even gone outside in his state? He wasn't working, his lack of normal uniform or delivery orders was evidence enough of that, so it wasn't as if he had been forced to go out by his boss. Was he just too stubborn? Did he think he would be ok for a few minutes and not realize he was this ill? The delivery boy was of no help in that regard, brushing off every attempt from the fire demon to learn the answers to those questions. He wasn't delirious, he just refused to answer!

So instead of trying to push again Red Son sighed and stood up. When Xiaotian opened his eyes to look at him in curiosity he frowned at the deep dark bags under them (had he ever been sleeping?) and the dull sheen they seemed to have before he held his hand up in a "stop" motion.

"You stay right there. I meant that threat. I am going to be back in 10 minutes. Do not test me..." Red stood, lifting both his arms for a moment before giving the other another glance. "And don't, uh... die, I guess."

And then Red was gone in a wave of his arms and a flash of fire.

~

He landed at the entrance to a nearby convenience store, not somewhere one would normally think he would frequent but convenience was convenience. And they had very good coffee to grab when he ran out in his apartment. Yes, he was a Villain with a capital V and could just torment the staff for free goods... but he knew that if he did that long enough the stores would start causing him trouble or close down and that would negate the convenience.

No, it wasn't because the first cashier that greeted him was willing to pay for his goods believing he had forgotten his wallet and thus felt guilty for his first attempt at doing so. And he would deny that until the day he died.

That wasn't his goal for the day, however. Red Son may not get ill the way humans did, but it felt useful to him to know how how to treat the more common ailments in the event his family may be forced to work with one. So he grabbed a basket and made a quick beeline straight for the nearest aisle with medicine.

In even less than the 10 minutes he cited he had a basket filled with flu medicine, more cold compresses, soup broth, and much more. Yes, all of this was absolutely necessary. He didn't care that much about his nemesis, he just wouldn't let an illness make him weak. Nope. That was the only reason. Nothing else. He totally wasn't caring for someone he considered a friend, he didn't have friends, not even Xiaojiao was a-

"Red?"

Crap.

"What are you doing standing in line at a convenience store?" Xiaojiao asked, and as Red turned back to her he saw that she had... some very similar items in her own basket, plus some comics. At his eyes widened in realization she looked down at his own basket and sighed. "... either this is a very interesting coincidence or Xiaotian did something he shouldn't have."

~

Red entered his apartment through the door, the noise rousing the apparently lightly sleeping man on his couch.

"Red? You're back alrea-!?" Xiaotian snapped his mouth shut as he turned his head and opened his eyes to see the wide smiling face of a, clearly to someone who knew her well, angry Xiaojiao. "... I'm in trouble aren't I?"

"Oh you have no idea," she replied lightly, setting down the snacks and books and other assorted items she had purchased while Red made his way into the kitchen with his purchases. "I told you I would be at your apartment with stuff after I finished covering your shift for you, so would you like to explain why Red Son found you nearly passed out in your tuk-tuk half way to the nearest store?"

Though her words were sharp and snappy, it was clear to the listening Red that they were so in genuine concern for her friend. There was a mutter from Xiaotian and a questioning sound from Xiaojiao before the man cleared his throat and repeated himself.

"You already helped me out... I just wanted to try to get that stuff myself so you wouldn't have to do more. I was feeling pretty ok until I drove for a while..."

Ah. So that explained it. Xiaotian had just been going out for medication himself. Not the best idea with a fever of his magnitude, but understandable if he believed he could handle something that simple. Red had begun to wonder if he had been trying to head to Flower Fruit Mountain with bow evasive he was being, but this was a much less disastrous answer.

"Xiaotian, you're my best friend," he heard Xiaojiao say in a much softer tone, and there was the sound of the shuffling on the couch. "I wanted to help you, it didn't matter to me how much it was. I've helped you get to Flower Fruit Mountain and kick demon ass! A delivery shift or two and a convenience store run is something I'd do in a heartbeat. Now open your mouth, I grabbed a thermometer so we can see how bad off you actually are."

There was an agreeable sound and a chuckle, then silence as Red continued what he had been doing. Taking out a dose of medication and preparing something for Xiaotian to eat. Or, rather, drink along side the tea he was also preparing for himself and Xiaojiao. It was little more than chunks of tofu and soup broth with some mild flavoring, something simple and easy to make and eat while sick and-

Red Son held his face in his hands and groaned softly as he waited for the broth to warm. What was he doing? His greatest enemies were in his living room, one sick with fever, and he was preparing medicine and food for him. Frenemies? Only he could defeat them? Is that really what he was telling himself to justify his actions? That they were friend-enemies and they were his to beat?

That was a bold faced lie and he knew it. Had known it for a while. Maybe since he first called Xiaojiao just to speak with someone who would listen to him. Maybe since he first watched her stream in curiosity. Certainly, though, since he accepted being added to the group text she had named "Traffic Light Trio" (really? What kind of name that that?). He would have never done that had he not considered them his friends, he knew that deep down. He just didn't want to admit it (and he super did not want to admit that he maybe felt his own face warm up when they complimented him or that he had butterflies in his stomach the off times they called him by nicknames).

As he turned off the now lightly boiling broth and set it to the side to cool, Red Son began to admit to himself that maybe he was just as much of a dumbass as the Noodle Boy. It seemed that out of the three of them Xiaojiao had firm hold on the only available brain cells when it came to interpersonal relationships.

But that train of thought was not helpful at the moment, so he pushed it down (deeeeeeep down) as he gathered everything up and made his way to the couch again.

The sight that greeted him gave him pause Xiaojiao sitting on the arm of the couch and running a hairbrush through Xiaotian's tangled hair, Xiaotian looking slightly better thanks to the compress against his forehead and smiling softly against the pillows.

There were those butterflies. Oh. Red Son had it bad.

"So?" He asked, drawing their attention to himself as he sat everything on the nearby table. "How bad is it?"

"Not enough to take him to a doctor yet," Xiaojiao answered with a chuckle as she hopped down. "Though I think what you did before helped with that."

Red flushed a bit himself in response, grumbling under his breathe as he shoved the medicine and a cup of water into Xiaotian's hands. "WELL. Take this and. Maybe it’ll stay that way!" He attempted to sound as snappy as normal but the looks on both his guests faces told him he failed miserably in that regard.

"Thanks, Red," Xiaotian said with an earnest smile, and the butterflies were back and Red Son couldn't help the slight sparking of his hair in response.

"Don't mention it. Ever." He grumbled a bit, taking the cup before sighing and helping Xiaotian sit up straighter. "You shouldn't eat half laying down." He maneuvered the pillows to make a little wall between Xiaotian and a space next to the arm of the couch. A space he quickly occupied himself before handing him the bowl of broth over his shoulder. "So you don't have to move more."

The other two looked at each other with surprise on their faces before Xiaojiao smiled and sat on the other arm as they grew silent. Xiaotian eating, Xiaojiao playing on her phone, and Red... well. He tried to look like he was doing something on "his" phone, the one he took from Xiaojiao and replaced the old case with a showy flame covered one. But in reality he was just sitting there staring into space thinking "holy crap this is happening what have I done what happens next oh crap".

"Hey Red?"

"YES!?" He asked far too loud and quick with a squeak in his voice as his hair flared at Xiaotian's words, clearing his throat before repeating himself in a much more appropriate tone (only to earn a giggle from Xiaojiao).

He felt the other man lean back against him, and before he could even begin to fight his flush on his face he heard him chuckle as well. "I appreciate your help."

"L-like I said... don't mention it..."

Xiaotian chuckled again in reply and sighed, leaning completely against Red Son and as he looked over and down he saw his relaxed face and flushed deeper and... it felt nice.

He wondered why he ever pushed down his feelings before.

Xiaojiao grabbed the dishes with a knowing smirk, heading into the kitchen with a few parting words.

"Can you two save the kissing for later? Maybe when Xiaotian isn't sick?"

Both men flushed as deep as they could and sputtered out denials in response, and if that wasn't an indication that Xiaotian maybe felt similarly to Red as Red did to him...

#oh god i must have missed writing them a lot #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #ship fic #mk #qi xiaotian #red son #mei #long xiaojiao #traffic light trio #spicynoodleshipping #chimerashipping #(if you want it to be) #prompt fill

[macgyvermedical]

For the Last Time- Nerve Agents are NOT the Only Chemical Weapons: a “Golden Lancehead, Etc...” Science Review

So this one is probably going to be shorter than other ones I’ve done for this show, but having conveniently just refreshed my hospital decon team certification, taken a cumulative exam in EHS, and watched this episode (I’m a tad behind), I needed to do some talking on it.

Awl - X-Ray + Penny - Duct Tape + Jack - CD + Hoagie Foil - Guts + Fuel + Hope - Wilderness + Training + Survival - Father + Bride + Betrayal - Lidar + Rogues + Duty - Nightmares - Seeds + Permafrost + Feather - Friends + Enemies + Border - Mason + Cable + Choices - Bitter Harvest - Kid + Plane + Cable + Truck - Tesla + Bell + Edison + Mac -

To recap, after Oversight’s death from cancer (season 5 has an absolutely wild timeline so far), Mac seeks out the help of former classmate Frankie to help him develop a new treatment modality based on the venom of a very rare, critically endangered lancehead viper. The venom is extremely dangerous, and can also, it turns out, be chemically altered to become a very potent nerve agent. Frankie unknowingly provides the information to create the nerve agent to the episode’s bad guy, and the race is on to stop the agent from being released into an airport and poisoning a bunch of people.

Intro to the Golden Lancehead

Since the episode centers around the Golden Lancehead Viper, we should probably start by talking about what they are:

Bozer described the Golden Lancehead as “One of the rarest and deadliest snakes in the world. Found only on one island off the coast of Sao Paulo, the Brazilian Government has made it illegal to transport or own.” Then, quoting a nature documentary: “The golden lancehead’s venom targets the nervous system of it’s prey with pinpoint accuracy- causing blood blisters, intestinal bleeding, tissue necrosis, hemmorrhage...” 

Golden Lanceheads are a real type of snake that really do only live on a tiny island off the coast of Sao Paulo, Brazil. They are 28-inch-long, cream and yellow snakes with a lance-shaped head and a diamond-like pattern of scales.

The island, called Queimada Grande, is uninhabited and travel there is forbidden, an order enforced by the Brazilian Navy. This is both to protect the viper, which is listed as critically endangered, and to protect the humans- given the remoteness of the island and the danger posed by the wildlife, it would be very dangerous for rescuers to come find you if you became injured or were bitten by any of the multiple venomous creatures that live there.

In the episode, Mac and Frankie travel to a pet shop in Sao Paulo to collect a sample of the venom from an illegally acquired snake. In real life, there is a lucrative black market for the species, which can fetch up to $30,000 per snake, meaning Mac paying $20,000 for a sample of venom would not have been necessarily unheard-of.

The pet shop owner tells them that the person who ventured to the island died from a bite, describing it as (paraphrased) “his face swelled, blood poured from everywhere, and even though they cut off his arm to try to save him at the hospital, he died anyway.”

Due in all likelihood to the fact that the island is uninhabited and forbidden, there has never actually been an official documented bite in a human from this species (though unofficial reports suggest it can indeed be deadly). Chemical analysis of the venom indicates it is likely the most potent and fastest-acting venom of it’s genus, though it is likely a lot more effective at killing birds and large insects than mammals given its primary choice of prey.

Bites from other vipers in its genus run a mortality rate of between 3% (with medical care) and 7% (without medical care). Most of their venoms are made of many different sugar-like molecules called glycans which disrupt proteins in animal cells, often killing the cells. Lancehead venom is similarly cytotoxic, causing the death of cells in tissue and blood and disruption of normal blood clotting, causing severe bleeding. Symptoms include pain and extreme swelling of the area around the bite, followed by tissue death and symptoms of nausea, dizziness, headache, and sweating. Shortly after that, there is a disruption in blood clotting, causing severe bleeding throughout the body. This severe bleeding, along with kidney failure and bleeding into the brain, is typically what causes death in those 3-7% of cases. Occasionally amputation is attempted as part of treatment, but it is usually due to the extreme amount of tissue death that occurs surrounding the bite, not necessarily to stop the spread of the venom as alleged in the episode.

So basically, Bozer and his nature documentary are largely correct in where the Golden Lancehead lives, its legal restrictions, and the symptoms resulting from envenomation by lancehead vipers. The only thing that is not accurate is the neurotoxicity part- lancehead venom is hemotoxic (blood toxic) and cytotoxic (toxic to cells and tissues), but there is no indication that it causes any kind of neurotoxicity (brain toxic).

Cancer Treatment from Snake Venoms

In the episode, Mac describes the research he and Frankie are undertaking as “The therapy uses toxins extracted from snake venom, which billions of years of evolution have taught it to attack the weakest cells in a creature’s body to target cancerous tumors.”

One of the great things about snake venoms (and honestly animal venoms) is that they are not single toxins. A single snake’s venom has nearly a hundred different bioactive proteins, enzymes, glycans, and other chemicals. One of the great things is because so many of these toxins are bioactive in some way, venoms give pharmacologists a pallette of various bioactive substances already in existence that they can test and use to create drugs.

Several chemicals we use as drugs were originally discovered in snake venom. For example, enalapril (a blood pressure lowering medicine), eptifibatide (a blood thinner), hemocoagulase (a clotting agent), and ximelagatran (a blood thinner), were all discovered originally as components in snake venom. Some studies into king cobra and saw scaled viper venom has shown possible anti-cancer properties (in the form of drugs that prevent tumors from growing, prevent blood vessels from growing in cancer cells, and prevent cancer cells from spreading throughout the body), though none of these have been developed into therapeutic drugs.

Since there are literally hundreds of bioactive chemicals, enzymes, and proteins in snake venom, it’s definitely not impossible that someone could choose to do this research, and definitely not impossible that someone would be able to find something useful in treating cancer or any other disease. In fact, since the venom is so cytotoxic, there is a possibility that there is a compound in it that has a preference for certain cancer cells. The problems with what Mac says are mainly:

1. that as far as we know, nothing in venom would selectively choose cancer cells based on their “weakness”- generally drugs that do target cancer cells target the fact that they have mutated in a certain way that lets certain chemicals find them or that they are fast-dividing cells (similar to hair or skin cells) and fast-disrupted cells get killed first if a chemical disrupts cell division.

2. Snakes have only been around for 143million years, and venomous creatures have only been around for 170million years. Even one billion years is a LOT longer than that. Mac could have said hundreds of millions and it would still have been technically correct at least grammatically.

Chemical Weapons from Snake Venom:

So what about chemical weapons?

I mean, sure, if you consider that there are hundreds of chemicals in any snake venom, at least one of them is probably going to meet at least some of the criteria for a good chemical weapon. Whether or not that chemical weapon would count as a “Nerve Agent” is kind of up to the substance itself.

Chemical weapons are weapons that fall into one of the following categories:

Nerve Agents- these are things like VX, Sarin, Tabun, and other agents that attack the system that breaks down the neurotransmitter acetylcholine. Without that system, too much acetylcholine builds up, causing constricted pupils, twitching, excessive saliva and mucous, eye pain, diarrhea, difficulty breathing, seizures, and death if not treated promptly.

Blood Agents- these are things like phosgene, arsine, and cyanide that disrupt the blood’s ability to transport oxygen through the body. These cause symptoms like difficulty breathing, dizziness, headache, increased heart rate and respiratory rate, nausea and vomiting, and eventually seizures and death.

Blister Agents- These are things like lewisite and mustard gas that cause severe irritation to skin, eyes, mucous membranes, and lungs. These cause symptoms of pain, redness and large blisters on skin, difficulty breathing and swelling/blisters in the lungs and airway, loss of vision, fever, and nausea/vomiting. Death either occurs due to swelling and blisters in the airway or infection.

Choking Agents- These are things like phosgene and chlorine that irritate eyes and airways. They cause symptoms of watering eyes, coughing, chest tightness, and nausea/vomiting. They eventually cause severe pulmonary edema which can cause death.

Incapacitating Agents- These are agents like LSD, BZ, and fentanyl which are not necessarily designed to kill their targets, but leave them unable to respond to an attack either by making them less conscious (BZ, fentanyl) or by causing severe hallucinations and delusions that prevent them from being able to carry out their normal duties (BZ, LSD).

While there are many neurotoxic snake venoms that are known to have chemicals that interact with acetylcholine (causing paralysis, respiratory failure, and seizures), as far as I was able to find, the lancehead viper genus is not one of them. In fact, despite what Bozer said, there’s not a lot of neurotoxicity at all in the Golden Lancehead Viper’s venom- it’s primarily hemotoxic and cytotoxic.

So, basically, while it might be possible to make a nerve agent out of certain types of venom (though why would you, exactly? We’ve got tons of nerve agents, we know a lot about them, and they’re not exactly hard to create in a lab.) it would be more likely that you’d be in the market to find a new blood agent, blister agent, or even a choking or incapacitating agent if you were using Golden Lancehead Viper venom to discover it.

Just seems like a lot of work when you could get potentially a lot more useful venom legally and less dangerously.

But the more I think about it, I think the writers chose the snake due to it’s difficulty to acquire and it’s mystery, the chemical agent due to it’s well-known-ness, and fudged things so they worked together in the story.

But Now, the Real Question:

Could snake venoms eat through metal using acid, and would ionizing radiation change that? 

“Here’s another fun fact- when a Golden Lancehead attacks, it’s venom reacts with the iron in the red blood cells of it’s prey, creating an acidic byproduct strong enough to eat flesh and corrode metal.” -Mac

Certain snake venoms actually do become more acidic or more alkaline in their victim’s bodies, and in the presence of certain metal ions. However, as far as I was able to tell, the most acidic a venom would normally become was about a pH of 4 (somewhere between soda and coffee) and the most alkaline was about 9 (somewhere around baking soda). So not really capable of “eating flesh” (though enzymatic activity could digest proteins in the victims’ tissues) and it would take a lot longer than the episode showed to cause the corrosion necessary to dissolve a lock.

That’s not to say that a specially designed and purified chemical weapon created from a compound in snake venom would be different than the og snake venom, but the likelihood that ionizing radiation would change it so drastically would be a real bummer for a terrorist, since uncontrolled releases of your weapons are definitely not ideal.

Conclusion:

Overall, there was definitely some real passable science in here, but some of the dialogue choices were so poor that it made it difficult to respect. But generally decent science, even if the “cooler” stuff wouldn’t necessarily have worked.

#MacGyver #MacGyver Reboot #whump reference #writing reference #chemical weapons #snakes #venom

[selfdestructivecat]

@the-local-lunatic13

THAT’S GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME!

Ok so this is gonna be a long list, since my head is only empty when it’s of greatest inconvenience.

Also please read the tags for potential triggers! Lmk if I missed any and I’ll add them right away.

Without further ado, here’s my interpretation of a Sanders Sides Pokemon AU!

* Ok so first of all, the sides are all gym leaders.

* I picture this in the Galar region, but probably with different towns and the like because I don’t remember any of them.

* Basically, just assume that all of the towns are made up, but that Dynamax still is a thing.

* Let’s start with Patton because his story is the least sad.

* His family runs a Fairy Type gym/pokemon nursery.

* Patton is the eldest in a large family, so he eventually became the new gym leader following in his father’s footsteps.

* He has two dads, one who was the gym leader and the other who is a pokemon breeder. They’re both pokemon breeders now and work in a Pokemon Center.

* They are definitely responsible for Patton’s sense of humor.

* Patton and all of his siblings are adopted, but they’re so close that they might as well be related by blood.

* Patton loves taking care of pokemon and would be a pokemon breeder full-time if he could

* But he also loves his family so he continues to run the gym to raise enough money to keep them comfortable and happy

* The Pokemon team I have come up for him is:

* - Togekiss

* - Boltund

* - Greninja (cuz frog)

* - Altaria

* - Frosmoth

* - Hatterine

* (If anyone has any better ideas for pokemon for any of the sides, feel free to throw your suggestions in the notes!)

* Moving on to Logan...

* Like Patton, he also inherited his gym, a Psychic Type gym, from his parents

* However, his family life isn’t nearly as happy...

* Ever since he was old enough to throw a pokeball, his parents have trained him rigorously to become the next gym leader

* They handpicked all of the pokemon in his team

* Except for a Lucario, which Logan caught as a Riolu when he was very young. His parents only let him keep it because of its battle prowess

* So Logan’s team is:

* - Lucario

* - Gardevoir

* - Alakazam

* - Raichu (alolan)

* - Malamar

* - Onix

* (Also this should be obvious by now but not all the pokes will match the gym’s type cuz that’s boring)

* Logan took over the gym when he was 15 and has been running it basically on his own ever since

* His parents still get the final say in all major decisions, even though they don’t really do anything

* Logan resents them, but doesn’t have the courage to stand up for himself

* ENTER PATTON

* Logan is at first pretty skeptical regarding Patton, since he doesn’t seem to take his job seriously

* After challenging Patton to a battle, however, that stance changes remarkably fast after facing a narrow defeat at the hands of Patton’s pokemon

* Even so, he tells himself that he doesn’t have time to become more than colleagues. He must be cordial with Patton so they can coordinate as gym leaders, but that’s it

* Meanwhile, Patton takes one look at this emotionally-repressed man and thinks to himself

* “Oh, this is the guy I’m gonna marry.”

* He then takes literally every opportunity to flirt with Logan

* And he is not subtle AT ALL

* Like he literally goes up to Logan one day and is like

* “I know you’re not ready for it right now, but one day I’m gonna marry you and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

* And Logan is VERY confused and VERY flustered because feelings? What is happening to my heart!? Am I getting sick!?

* (And his parents would absolutely disapprove because they are huge homophobes and want Logan to have an heir to pass on the gym to)

* But eventually Patton manages to break Logan’s walls down and they become close friends

* (And eventually more)

* Now, the twins!

* Their situation is pretty similar to Logan’s, at least to a certain point

* Their parents own a Fire Type gym, and were so excited to have a child who would eventually take over the gym

* Two things happened that they did not anticipate

1) They ended up having twins

2) The mother died during childbirth

* Driven by grief, stubbornness, and resentment, the father had the idea that, in order to make the twins as strong as possible, he would put them against each other at every opportunity

* They would constantly be competing to become better than the other, creating an extremely toxic rivalry

* It didn’t work... at least, not at first.

* When they were very young, Roman and Remus were inseparable.

* Even when their father tried to put them against each other, they would rebel against him and not listen

* (Remus had no issue with this, but Roman quietly longed for his father’s approval, even though he knew it was wrong)

* They had a dream that they would run the gym together, and they would talk long into the night about the gym they would create and the pokemon they would train

* That was, until their father started to take a different approach

* He noticed that, despite the two boys receiving the same education and training, Roman had a better affinity for battle (at least when it came to fire types)

* So he started giving Roman more praise and attention

* Roman was thrilled to finally make his father proud

* Remus, on the other hand, was tossed to the side

* Roman was reluctant to give up his father’s attention now that he had received it

* (Looking back, Roman wishes more than anything that he had given it up)

* The twins were driven apart, Roman being trained to take over the gym, and Remus being completely ignored

* One day, Remus ran away, disappearing in the middle of the night.

* Roman was devastated

* He wanted nothing more than to search for Remus, but he knew that if his brother didn’t want to be found, he could vanish off the face of the earth

* Years pass, and Roman takes over the gym

* His father passes away from illness when he was 16

* He can’t find it in himself to grieve

* Roman continues running the gym, hating how quiet the halls are and missing his brother terribly

* One day, he receives news of a new Poison Type gym being established, one heavily criticized for its unorthodox (and, some complain, absolutely disgusting) gym structure and puzzles

* For the first time in years, Roman smiles

* Their relationship is not nearly as close as it was when they were children, and they still have a lot of that competitiveness that was hammered into them, but they’re trying

* And of course, their pokemon teams!

* Roman’s team is:

* - Charizard

* - Wigglytuff

* - Aegislash

* - Milotic

* - Gallade

* - Butterfree

(Maybe he should have more fire types but I like all of these Pokémon for him and they don’t really have a common type among them and ahhhhhhhh...)

* While Remus’s team is:

* - Garbodor

* - Muk

* - Tentacruel

* - Gengar

* - Mawile

* - Venomoth

* While catching up on everything that happened while they were separated, Roman asks Remus how he managed to establish his own gym so quickly

* Remus smirks, saying that he had a little help from a certain dragon...

* WHICH IS JANUS! HE HAS A DRAGON TYPE GYM!

* And this is where we get into that sweet sweet angst

* Janus was born in a small village surrounded by mountains

* A few months before his birth, a disease spread throughout the village

* This disease would coat the skin in angry red boils and drive the infected delirious with sickness

* One day, Janus’ parents found him shivering with a fever, the left side of his face covered in boils

* Fearing for their lives should they catch the disease, they brought the child into the mountains and abandoned him in an old, dark cave

* He wailed in pain and terror until his throat was so hoarse he couldn’t cry anymore

* Dialga, the legendary dragon-type pokemon with power over time, heard his cries and took pity on the child

* Dialga reversed the effects of the illness, curing the child but leaving shimmering scales where the boils used to be

* Dialga then tasked the dragon type pokemon in the cave to look after the child, not trusting humans to ensure Janus’ well being

* A family of Dreepies, Drakloaks, and Dragapults takes a particular liking to Janus, raising him as one of their own

* Eventually, when Janus is a bit older, he goes to visit the town he was born in (supervised by his dragon family, of course)

* Only to find that the village was gone, abandoned by the few survivors of the horrible plague that spread throughout

* Janus felt no remorse

* He knew that he could only rely on himself, and that if he wanted to survive in this world, he needed to be aggressive

* The following week, he said goodbye to his family, only taking with him his best friend, one of the Dreepies in his family that was now a powerful Dragapault

* It wasn’t easy, as he had to learn the language and social etiquette of the people around him (being raised by pokemon would do that to you)

* He even had to resort to stealing in order to survive, which kept him on the run

* Until one day, he met Remus, another kid on the run

* Together, they were an absolute menace. To this day, the two of them have never lost a double battle

* Eventually, they both opened their own gyms, Remus a poison type and Janus a dragon type

* When not busy with the typical duties required of gym leaders, they’re basically inseparable

* Remus is the one person Janus trusts whole-heartedly

* I headcanon them as either really close friends or queer-platonic partners, but I’ll leave it up to you to decide their relationship!

* By the way, Janus’ team consists of:

* - Dragapult

* - Mimikyu

* - Zoroark

* - Arbok

* - Salazzle

* - Kimmo-oh

* So that leaves one side left...

* Ima be honest, I based Virgil heavily on Piers, but bear with me ok?

* Virgil grew up in a very poor town with his mother, as his dad abandoned them when he was very young

* And when I say poor, I mean that there wasn’t even a Pokemon Center

* Even so, he didn’t wish for anything. He didn’t care about traveling or becoming a great pokemon trainer. He just wanted to be with his mom

* (His anxiety made it hard to leave the house, anyway, so he was in no rush to go on some grand adventure)

* His mom had a dream to open a pokemon gym that both 1) incorporated music and 2) was more down to earth than the grand stadiums that were now the norm for gyms

* When she was pregnant with Virgil, she was more than happy to give up that dream for her family

* However, when her husband, their main source of income, abandoned them, her dream became more of a necessity

* The entire town was on her side, knowing that a gym could bring money to their town

* Their “gym” was nothing more than a small, outdoor stadium, but his mother loved it

* The few curious pokemon trainers who decided to challenge the unofficial gym absolutely loved her, and slowly she started to gain a bit of notoriety

* Virgil was terrified. He was afraid that his mom would get hurt by the powerful pokemon that constantly challenged her

* (And he missed her terribly. She still made time for him, but it wasn’t as much as before she took on the role of unofficial gym leader)

* And so, his mom brought him his very first pokemon: an Eevee that always seemed to know exactly how to calm him down

* He loved his Eevee, and he felt a little bit less alone whenever his mom had to leave for work. He was ok.

* Unfortunately, fate had cruel plans for the young boy

* His town was cast into shadow as a maddened Dynamaxed pokemon appeared a few miles away

* His mom, the strongest trainer in town, left to take it down, despite how much Virgil begged her to not go, or to take him with her

* (She had to go. The second-closest city to the dynamaxed pokemon was still very far away. Help wouldn’t come for a while. She was all her small town had.)

* (...She didn’t return)

* The entire town was in mourning, holding a huge ceremony to honor her memory.

* Virgil was inconsolable, barely speaking and refusing to leave his room for almost an entire year

* If it wasn’t for the people in the town, who cared for him as deeply as they did his mother, he probably wouldn’t have eaten.

* The unofficial gym, without a gym leader, was abandoned, and its small glimpse of fame was lost, plunging the town back into a seemingly inescapable pit of poverty and obscurity

* Until one day, a group of thugs came and terrorized the town, letting loose their pokemon and stealing everything they could get their hands on

* Virgil was terrified, but he couldn’t just stand there while people got hurt. With only his Eevee and his only experience being watching his mom in her matches, he challenged the thugs

* He didn’t stand a chance. His poor Eevee was at its knees within moments

* Virgil was distraught, hating his weakness and how he couldn’t protect the town that had become his family. He tried to fight the thugs himself, only to be knocked back by one of their Pokémon’s attacks.

* He got back up and charged again, tears in his eyes and bile rising from how scared he was

* His Eevee, terrified for its master and inspired by his bravery, began to glow...

* ...and in its place stood an Umbreon, body pulsing with newfound power

* This scene rallied the other people in the town, who banded together to drive the thugs away, Virgil and his Umbreon leading the charge

* From then on, Virgil vowed that he would become a strong Dark Type gym leader and create the gym his mother never got the chance to

* He trained hard, swallowing his fear to capture and train more pokemon for his team

* Which consists of...

* - Umbreon

* - Houndoom

* - Galvantula

* - Gothitelle

* - Corviknight

* - Noivern

* The townspeople, much like Team Yell in Pokemon Sw/Sh, would often go to other cities singing Virgil’s praise and unwittingly causing all sorts of problems

* Virgil has no idea that any of this is happening

* Eventually, word gets out again regarding this unofficial Pokemon gym, attracting the attention of the other gym leaders

* Roman is sent to investigate

* He doesn’t expect much, given the general appearance of the town (it doesn’t even have a pokemon center, after all)

* He’s even more put off when he recognizes the outfits of the trainers in the “gym” as the strange people who have been causing trouble all over Galar

* Even so, he has a job to do, so he dons a disguise and plows through all of the trainers, eager to finish the gym so he can go back home

* His desire to leave vanishes faster than a Pikachu with Agility the moment he lays eyes on Virgil

* Just like his mother wanted, Virgil’s battles take place during a rock concert, so Virgil waiting on a makeshift stage with a guitar in hand

* (Virgil feels like he’s going to explode with nerves, just like he does every time a trainer challenges his gym, but the memory of his mother gives him courage)

* As his Umbreon leaps into battle, he begins to sing

* And holy shit Roman is in love

* The small area is filled with spectators cheering and singing along to the song, and despite it being a far cry from any grand stadium Roman has ever battled in, it has more spirit than anything Roman has ever experienced

* It’s the most fun he’s had battling in years

* Virgil is a tough opponent, a testament to his years of pushing himself, but in the end Roman has more experience

* Virgil is devastated at the loss, knowing it would be a blow against the gym’s reputation, but manages to put on a smile and offers Roman a pin: their unofficial gym badge

* Roman smiles, removing his disguise to pin the badge to his clothes and Virgil is like “holy shit that’s Roman the famous fire-type gym leader oh no he’s really hot oh no what have I done I GAVE HIM A HANDMADE PIECE OF SCRAP METAL OH NO”

* And Roman, ignorant to Virgil’s crisis, is like “cmon, we gotta get the paperwork done to establish this place as an official gym!”

* When later asked, Virgil would firmly deny it, but at that moment he had literally burst into tears

* Roman still wears the badge Virgil presented to him to this day, even though Virgil has repeatedly offered him one of the higher-quality badges they now give out as an official gym

* Virgil’s gym is the only one that doesn’t have Dynamax, since he still has some trauma from his mother’s death

* Prinxiety eventually happens because I say so

* And all of the gym leaders are friends also because I say so

I might add more to this AU if people are interested! And feel free to add your own ideas! I’d love to hear what you think!

Sorry for rambling, but if you managed to get this far, thanks for reading! :D

#my ramblings #sanders sides #sanders sides au #sanders sides pokemon AU #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #logicality #dukeciet #platonic dukeciet #prinxiety #tw death #tw sickness #tw disease #tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw child abandonment #tw homophobia #long #long post