#which we've had enough of to last a lifetime

[fictionadventurer]

Pop culture reduces It's a Wonderful Life to that last half hour, and thinks the whole thing is about this guy traveling to an alternate universe where he doesn't exist and a little girl saying, "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings." A hokey, sugary fantasy. A light and fluffy story fit for Hallmark movies.

But this reading completely glosses over the fact that George Bailey is actively suicidal. He's not just standing there moping about, "My friends don't like me," like some characters do in shows that try to adapt this conceit to other settings. George's life has been destroyed. He's bankrupt and facing prison. The lifetime of struggle we've been watching for the last two hours has accomplished nothing but this crushing defeat, and he honestly believes that the best thing he can do is kill himself because he's worth more dead than alive. He would have thrown himself from a bridge had an actual angel from heaven not intervened at the last possible moment.

That's dark. The banker villain that pop culture reduces to a cartoon purposely drove a man to the brink of suicide, which only a miracle pulled him back from. And then George Bailey goes even deeper into despair. He not only believes that his future's not worth living, but that his past wasn't worth living. He thinks that every suffering he endured, every piece of good that he tried to do was not only pointless, but actively harmful, and he and the world would be better off if he had never existed at all.

This is the context that leads to the famed alternate universe of a million pastiches, and it's absolutely vital to understanding the world that George finds. It's there to specifically show him that his despondent views about his effect on the universe are wrong. His bum ear kept him from serving his country in the war--but the act that gave him that injury was what allowed his brother to grow up to become a war hero. His fight against Potter's domination of the town felt like useless tiny battles in a war that could never be won--but it turns out that even the act of fighting was enough to save the town from falling into hopeless slavery. He thought that if it weren't for him, his wife would have married Sam Wainwright and had a life of ease and luxury as a millionaire's wife, instead of suffering a painful life of penny-pinching with him. Finding out that she'd have been a spinster isn't, "Ha ha, she'd have been pathetic without you." It's showing him that she never loved Wainwright enough to marry him, and that George's existence didn't stop her from having a happier life, but saved her from having a sadder one. Everywhere he turns, he finds out that his existence wasn't a mistake, that his struggles and sufferings did accomplish something, that his painful existence wasn't a tragedy but a gift to the people around him.

Only when he realizes this does he get to come back home in wild joy over the gift of his existence. The scenes of hope and joy and love only exist because of the two hours of struggle and despair that came before. Even Zuzu's saccharine line about bells and angel wings exists, not as a sugary proverb, but as a climax to Clarence's story--showing that even George's despair had good effect, and that his newfound thankfulness for life causes not only earthly, but heavenly joy.

If this movie has light and hope, it's not because it exists in some fantasy world where everything is sunshine and rainbows, but because it fights tooth and nail to scrape every bit of hope it can from our all too dark and painful world. The light here exists, not because it ignores the dark, but because the dark makes light more precious and meaningful. The light exists in defiance of the dark, the hope in defiance of despair, and there is nothing saccharine about that. It's just about as realistic as it gets.

#it's a wonderful life #i know i've probably reached my quota of long posts about this movie #but i kept thinking about it and wanted to organize my thoughts into something a bit more refined #even though i'm mostly just restating what i said yesterday

[avatar-anna]

Moments caught between Harry and Y/n on camera at the Brits

just something fun because harry at the brits was a mess but we love him for it!

Young Dad! Harry Styles x Young Mom! Reader Masterlist

The red carpet is loud and raucous, bright lights flashing as people shout for the attention of celebrities. One couple in particular is the center of attention the second they step on the carpet.

Harry Styles and a woman walk arm-in-arm, a broad grin on his face and a shy smile on hers. Harry seems to be whispering something in the woman's ear, his nose pressed against the crown of her head. It makes her visibly relax, her grin widening and becoming more authentic as they take a couple more steps.

The woman is the recently revealed Y/n Styles, Harry Styles' long-time partner that he'd somehow kept from the rest of the world for over a decade. But she was here tonight, just as she had been at the Grammys a couple weeks ago, and the cameras now track their every move, intrigued by this new-ish couple.

"Harry! Harry! Harry, over here!"

"Y/n!"

"Harry, did you really marry Y/n when you were in One Direction?"

"Y/n, how does it feel to be with the most famous man in music?"

Y/n, who's hard to miss in a red dress that fits like a glove, shrinks almost imperceptibly against Harry's side. Harry looks down at her, and the husband and wife share a look as if they're having an unspoken conversation.

Then he mutters something to her, and Y/n laughs as Harry kisses her cheek, but not before nudging his nose against it. The shouts double, so used to Harry's stoic approach to being out in the public eye, but both of them move steadily down the carpet, not paying the paparazzi and reporters any mind.

*.*

During their walk down the red carpet, Harry and Y/n come across a barricaded section for fans of the artists in attendance. They all cheer as each celebrity walks by, shouting compliments and proclamations of love for their favorite.

Y/n once again hesitates on Harry's arm, wary eyes darting toward the boisterous fans. At the same time, Harry is called to by a reporter asking for an interview. Checking in with his wife, he departs with a kiss to her forehead, murmuring words the cameras can't quite pick up.

Y/n stands on her own, one arm crossed over her stomach as she tries to stay standing tall. Fans call out to her from the barricade in a way that's difficult to ignore. She waves at them with a small smile, but it's clear they want her to come closer.

With one glance at her husband, who's still speaking with the reporter, and another to a security guard close by, she nods to the latter and they step closer to the barricade, just close enough in proximity that she can actually make out distinct voices and words.

"Y/n we love you!"

"Where did you meet Harry?"

"How long have you been together?"

"Ugh, you are so mother in that dress!"

"What's your skincare routine?"

"What's Harry's?"

The tense set of her shoulders eases a bit, no longer apprehensive of the fans and their potential to be cruel.

"I feel like I met him a lifetime ago," she says. "And I just cleanse, moisturize, and use SPF."

"How come we've never seen you at shows?"

"What's your favorite Harry song?"

"Are you friends with One Direction?"

"Where were you last year when Harry got wasted?"

Y/n chuckles at the last question, her eyes lighting up as her hand covers her mouth. "I've always had a soft spot for 'Ever Since New York.'"

"Taste!" a fan yells, decibels louder above the rest, which garners laughter from everyone.

"Can you make Harry release 'Medicine?'" another asks.

Before Y/n answers, Harry appears by her side, an arm snaking around her waist. "There you are. Got sidetracked by your own interview, did you?"

"They were just asking if I'd help them in their quest for a studio version of 'Medicine.' I'm not sure if I can, though. They don't know how stubborn you are."

A chorus of boos went up at Y/n's answer, but not at her. Harry raised his eyebrows at his wife as if in challenge, but her responding gaze is quite mischievous.

Taking everyone, including Y/n, by surprise, he leans in to kiss her cheek, saying, "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight, darling?"

A chorus of aww's ring through the small crowd of fans as Harry places his hand on Y/n's lower back, ushering her away from the barricade. Y/n raises an eyebrow at her husband, who is conveniently not meeting her eye. "Nice save."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You never call me darling."

Harry lets out a snort. "Lies. Lies on the red carpet tonight."

Y/n rolls her eyes but leans in close to her husband, carefully avoiding the fabric flower around his neck. "Mhmm. Let's go, darling."

*.*

An artist is being interviewed inside the O2, and Harry and Y/n are videotaped in the background.

In the very corner, the couple are leaning in close and talking, a drink in each one of their hands. Harry talks animatedly, gesturing with his drink to the point where it nearly spills on Y/n's dress. Y/n doesn't seem to mind and just throws back her head as she laughs. His eyes light up as he watches her, a word that could only be described as love encompassing his face.

*.*

During one of the performances, a camera pans to Harry's table. The house lights are dim, but he's still visible amongst the flashes of color from the stage. Harry sits in his chair, body slumped a little low so he can rest his head on Y/n's shoulder.

Both of their attention is on the performer onstage, not noticing as a few cameras are pointed in their direction as Y/n scratches the back of Harry's neck absentmindedly. He leans into her touch, looking up occasionally to say something to his wife.

*.*

"And the winner is...Harry Styles!"

Cheers erupted throughout the room, the table Harry is at standing up. Harry himself stays seated and curls in on himself, pumping his arms victoriously as he beams. His eyes are a little glassy, his hair unkempt, a sign that the night has progressed with lots of alcohol consumption.

He turns to his sister Gemma first as he stands up, high-fiving her before giving her a hug and fist-bumping someone else. Then he turns to Y/n, who hasn't stopped clapping since his name had been read for the third time from the envelope.

She opens her arms as if to accept a hug, but Harry has other plans. He leans forward and kisses her in a way that's merely pressing his smile against hers until they mold their mouths into a kiss. Then he kisses her cheek repeatedly, making her shoulders bunch as she smiles brightly.

When Harry finally pulls away, Y/n's cheeks are flushed as she tries to wipe at her husband's face with her thumb. With one last kiss, he heads up to the stage to accept his award.

*.*

Another performance, only this time, everyone is on their feet, including Harry and Y/n.

Harry's arms are wrapped around Y/n's shoulders from behind, his chin on her shoulder. Both of them sway from side to side to the rhythm of the song as Harry mouthed the words in Y/n's ear.

Her grin is wide as her eyes stay trained on the performance. Then, she looks back at Harry, who met her gaze as she says something.

Nodding, he kisses her once on the cheek before nodding back to the stage.

*.*

As Kid speaks into the microphone onstage saying his thank yous, Harry is having the time of his life behind his friend as he speaks to Stanley Tucci.

By now it's a little obvious he's had more than a couple drinks. His hair is nothing short of a mess, his dress shirt is a little more unbuttoned than it had been to begin with, and he throws his head back and laughs in a way that is fueled by drunken delight.

Briefly, the camera turns to Harry's wife, who stands beside Gemma. Y/n's hands hold her face as she watches her husband be ushered offstage by the people around him. She giggles a little before leaning over to Gemma and shaking her head. Gemma laughs along with her, covering her mouth as she says something to the woman beside her.

The camera flashes back to Harry, who turns around one last time so he can blow a kiss to the crowd, more specifically, Y/n, who the camera catches covering her face in her hands, cheeks as red as her dress.

*.*

Paparazzi shout at their latest persons of interest as they make the brief walk from the car to the entrance of a club where the after party for the Brits is being held.

Harry's arms are tightly wrapped around Y/n's waist, face set as he ignores the crowd of people shouting for his attention. Y/n, turned slightly inward towards Harry's chest, keeps pace beside him. Most of her body is covered by what can only be her husband's suit jacket, but with the open front, a hint of a sparkly pink dress can be seen, a drastic change from her award show attire.

The only time they separate is when Harry allows Y/n entrance into the club first before following close behind, his hand once again protectively hovering over the small of her back.

*.*

Photos are strictly forbidden inside of the club, so it isn't until the couple emerges from the doors once again that they're spotted.

Neither of them stumble, though paparazzi wouldn't have cared if they were. All eyes are on Harry's disheveled hair, the heels dangling from his fingers, the suit jacket draped over the arm not around his wife. They're on Y/n, whose dress is completely on display, the beading that covers its entirety flashing with every snap of the camera's shutter.

Then the collar of Harry's silk dress shirt shifted, revealing a harsh purple bruise that hadn't been there before. Neither Harry nor Y/n seem to notice, or understand why the cacophony of shouts became louder, they just continue on, Y/n's hand on the nape of her husband's neck idly scratching until he helps her into the car.

Following suit, Harry climbs inside. For a brief moment, Harry sticks his head out the open window of the car and winks and sticks his tongue out at all the photographers. Y/n appears from her side of the car, leaning across her husband to bring the window up. Not an ounce of care in the world, he leans forward to kiss his wife's exposed jaw. With an exasperated expression on her face and a delicate wave of her fingers, the window goes up, and though the windows are tinted, a hand is visible against the glass as the car peeled away from the curb.

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #young dadrry #young parent!harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

[mcytblrsexymen]

thanks for playing!

(an image ID is under the cut, as well as in the image description. the artists credits and their social media links are also listed under the cut - go check them out!)

hey y'all. we've been quiet a bit. that being said, we have one last thing before we get this event behind us.

this was a really special thing to be a part of. what started as a silly joke we didn't think would get very far ended up being a cultural event within the fandom. thousands of votes, participation from everyone, a thing we'll never forget. we can't express enough how exciting it was to be a part of everything. we, the mods, had a fantastic time with everything. a once-in-a-lifetime kind of experience, you know?

but it wasn't us that made this what it was. it was you all.

we just want to say, from the bottoms of our hearts: thank you. thank you for all the campaigning - for a while, it was practically all we could see. thank you for all the fic - we have a canonized ao3 tag, that's wild. thank you for all the art - several fandoms were practically revitalized by this and it was beautiful to watch. thank you to the ccs who went along with the bit - it was a delight to have you playing in here with us. thank you for the stories you told with this. for the narratives you created. for alliances we would have never seen coming, for betrayals, and most of all for being here, together, doing this. thank you all so much for making this what it was.

anyway, so this art is my thanks to everyone. i commissioned a number of artists from as many different fandoms involved as i could find in hopes of capturing some of the chaotic energy of what might be some of the single most insane two weeks of my life. (and click on the piece so tumblr compression doesn't ruin it - there are SO MANY FANTASTIC DETAILS to look at!)

cheers, everyone. thanks for playing. you've made something special that i don't think we could ever create again, and it was a moment to remember.

<3, second and the sexyman mod team.

ART CREDITS:

confetti @bdoubleowo: goodtimeswithscar, technoblade, ldshadowlady, scott smajor

genesis frog @aroaceacacia: joe hills, saintstarling, itssubz, rtgame, composition, lighting/shading adjustments

siren @chronophobica: zombiecleo, grian, ranboo, tubbo

fluffy @fluffy-papaya: pixlriffs, vikingpilot, zloyxp, rythian

colten @malewifeph1lza: slimecicle, captainsparklez, jschlatt, dream, illumina

kish @kishdoodles and brynn @brynnticus: docm77, aimsey, mythicalsausage, orionsound, clownpierce, eddie the rabbit, owenjuicetv, seapeekay, ashswag, lighting/shading adjustments

td @paradoxalriven: quackity, ethoslab, stage

thank you <3

image ID: a portrayal of the mcytblr sexyman competition, as done by seven different artists, each with their own artstyle. it portrays many mcyters crowded around a stage, onto which a spotlight shines on the finalists. scar and joe are posing at each other in competition. to the right, quackity is climbing onto the stage, boosted by etho. around the stage there are a number of additional mcyters; technoblade, ldshadowlady, scott smajor, saintstarling, itssubz, rtgame, zombiecleo, grian, ranboo, tubbo, pixlriffs, vikingpilot, zloyxp, rythian, slimecicle, captainsparklez, jschlatt, dream, illumina, docm77, aimsey, mythicalsausage, orionsound, clownpierce, eddie the rabbit, owenjuicetv, seapeekay, and ashswag can all be seen cheering on contestants, talking to each other, and watching the competition. there are additional nondescript shadows around the stage in the background, implying an even larger crowd. the image also has the logo for the competition on it.

#mcytblr sexyman #mcyt #hermitcraft #dream smp #lifesteal smp #dominion smp #empires smp #trafficblr #joe hills #goodtimeswithscar #quackity #it feels rude to tag everyone else who is not focal so i will not #but they're all in there!

[lewkwoodnco]

Hii I wanted to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader with Invisible string, where they're neighbours for years, and used to play together as children. When Lucy joins the agency, she becomes friends with the reader, so the reader starts to be more around their house. Then Anthony starts interacting with her more, and they become friends, but Anthony realises his falling for her, so he starts to become awkward and shy around her she notices it and confronts him about it, then he confesses.

Invisible String - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: fluffy fluffy, though there is like the baaarest hint of angst which is kind of brief as long as you dont dwell on it too long + most of it gets resolved hehe and its made up for in the happy happy ending! yay!! personally i imagine the song she's humming at the piano to be invisible string heheh wc 5.4k

Lucy is waiting by their garden gate impatiently. They weren't running late for their job, but it was chilly out and she wanted to get in a cab before it got much colder. Lockwood walks out soon enough, holding a letter, but he walks to the fence rather than the gate. Over the fence, there's a girl pulling on her gloves as she walks towards her own gate, but Lockwood waves her over.

"What's this? Another lawsuit?"

"Not for me, at least. Our mail got mixed up again."

"Ah. Thanks."

They talk about their week for a while. Lucy watches Lockwood's polished exterior melt as his body language becomes more casual and fluid. The girl pockets the letter and the two of them look at each other for a while. He lamely gestures to her outfit.

"You look nice. Going on a date?"

"Yeah, with this guy in my pottery class."

"That sounds nice. Have fun."

"Thanks. You stay safe."

"I'll try."

Lucy walks over, looking at Lockwood meaningfully while he stiffens reflexively. "Who's your friend?"

"We're just neighbours." The girl smiles pleasantly, but Lucy doesn't miss the way he carefully watches her. They introduce themselves to each other. They chat a little, and Lucy picks up on her good-natured teasing of Lockwood appreciatively.

"So you must have known Lockwood for a while now, right?"

"Try ever since I was born. Our parents got on so well that we used to have dinner together every other day. And that was excluding brunch on the weekends. Trust me, I've had enough playdates with him to last a lifetime."

"Lockwood! You've never mentioned her, not even once."

"Well, to be fair, that was all years ago. We've been a little busy for the, um, last decade or so." There's a silence.

"Oh, there was that summer..."

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

"That had been nice."

An uncomfortable prickling accompanies the silence this time. She finishes fiddling with her gloves and looks ready to walk away, but Lucy recognises the suppressed look in Lockwood's eyes and tries to salvage the situation.

"You should come over sometime. We're doing some spring cleaning tomorrow, if you want to join."

"Luce. Let's not burden Y/N with chores."

"No, no, that sounds nice. I'd love to help. Though Lockwood never struck me as the spring-cleaning type."

"He's being coerced. We're holding his favourite rapier hostage."

Her lips twitch as she slices the envelope open. "Well, I wouldn't want to keep you from your job. Be careful. Mum sends her love." She says the last part more to Lockwood, who smiles with a warmth Lucy had seen little of. He watches her walk out, skimming the letter, and it isn't until George joins them that he looks away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their case is so exhausting and Holly piles so much work on him the next morning that he forgets that she's coming over. It isn't even until the afternoon that he realises she's there at all, when looking for someone to help him rip the stitches off some old curtains. He walks into one of the spare rooms, calling out for George, but he stops short when he sees an unfamiliar figure standing on the bed, peeling posters off the wall. She glances behind and he suddenly remembers the events of last evening.

"Oh - Y/N. Hello. Have you seen the others lately?"

"Lucy went out to get another scraper and I think George went down to the Archives. Holly just left for the post office."

"Oh. I see. Er, do you need help?" She turns around from the poster she was steadily peeling off, dropping it into the pile with satisfaction.

"Nope, that was last of them. Anything I can help you with?"

He hesitates, and she picks up on it.

"Lockwood, I don't have anything to do until Lucy comes home anyway. I don't mind, really."

He relents and she agrees to help immediately, poising to step off the bed. She pauses before making the step, looking at the floor nervously.

"...need help getting down?"

"No. Just...give me a minute." She tries to hold onto the bed's headboard but still suffers from some internal struggle in stepping down. The image triggers a decade-old dormant memory in him, of the time she had slipped from the picnic tabletop in her garden and twisted her ankle. Instinctively, he holds out a hand, which she grabs thankfully and is down so quick he doesn't even realise until she pulls her hand away. The feel of her fully-grown hand in his is a jarring yank back to the present.

"Still so afraid of heights?"

She shudders. "My ankle still twinges if I so much as think of making a small leap. Now, where are those curtains?"

They decide to occupy the couch in the living room, and it's a bit of a tight squeeze with the piles of linens towering around them, but they manage.

"So you take the seam ripper, like so," Lockwood fumbles with the comically small seam ripper but somehow slots it under a tiny stitch, "and you rip the seam. Just like that."

She rips the stitch on her curtain with greater efficiency than him. He looks mildly startled. She glances at the pile of curtains next to her, and then the one next to Lockwood.

"Looks like I'll be done with my pile first."

There's a pause as Lockwood processes her words and the glimmer of competition in her eyes, and then they both leap into action, tugging down yards and yards of fabric, painstakingly unravelling the seams stitch by stitch. It doesn't take long for them to start playing dirty. She tries to block Lockwood's vision by flapping the dusty curtains at him and he tries to slow her down by holding her curtains down. But by the time the rest return, they're too engrossed to sabotage each other so that Lucy finds them sitting in some weird contorted manner, ripping seams feverishly.

"I was only gone two hours! Both of you've done all that?"

She tries to shush Lucy, already feeling herself slow down as she tries to free up enough mental capacity to answer. She feels rather than hears Lockwood giggle in delight as he picks up his pace. Lucy shakes her head, walking out to the kitchen.

"Find me when you're done, I'm having tea." She groans, heavily enticed by the suggestion of biscuits and sweet tea after an afternoon of stringing her fingers to bits.

"Wait, wait, truce please, I want tea."

Lockwood reluctantly lets up, stretching under the sea of curtains around them. They part ways for the evening, taking breaks or helping out with other smaller projects, but they reconvene after dinner, though with significantly less fervour.

An hour or two past midnight, once his neck had started to ache too much, he looks over at Y/N, and realises she's fast asleep. He moves to shake her awake, but she looks so peaceful and alarmingly similar to the little girl he remembered her as that it gives him pause. Lockwood wasn't one for sentimental doting, but it felt nice to have a piece of his long-forgotten childhood in his home again, safe and warm.

He makes a quiet phone call to her parents before fetching a blanket for her. That night, the childhood memories he falls asleep to are warm and happy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucy wakes up from her nap in a delightfully warm haze. The house is quiet, likely because of everyone staying up late the previous night. She shuffles to the kitchen, but pauses when she hears a curious sound echoing in the hallway. She blearily follows it to the living room, where she sees Y/N and Lockwood sitting opposite each other at the coffee table, playing poker. She seemed to be trying her best to stop giggling, yet failing, while Lockwood berated her.

"Your poker face sucks, Y/N. I know more about your cards than I do mine."

She shakes with silent laughter, covering her face with her cards ashamedly as Lockwood joins in with the laughing. It's a weirdly surreal sight to see. Everntually, Lockwood's eye drifts and he spots Lucy standing in the doorway.

"Luce. Have a good nap?" Lucy grumbles some incoherent reply, pulling a biscuit out of the biscuit tin. She sits down and watches them shriek at each other (Lockwood was right, her poker face was downright terrible) as they finish the game, and Lucy can't help but smile over the idiots.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Where's Y/N?"

The first words out of Lockwood's mouth the next morning were arguably his most poorly-chosen yet, especially without any buffer from the relentless mocking of Lucy and George. One of them alone was bad enough, but with both of them joining forces, it made for a very weary breakfast.

"Cool it, she's my friend. Get your own."

"Then what does that make us, if not friends?"

"Neighbours." Lucy smiles innocently as Lockwood throws a dish towel at her.

The rest of breakfast passes up uneventfully, which makes the incident the first thing out of Lucy's mouth as soon as she steps through the door.

"Morning!"

"Lockwood missed you at breakfast this morning."

"Did not."

Between Lucy's smirk and Lockwood sullenly hiding in the shadowed hallway, she wasn't sure what to start with.

"Did too, he so wanted you to be there."

Lucy turns to Lockwood, daring him to contradict her. Holly steps out of the kitchen, straightening her pinafore, but doesn't pick up on the tension so she just smiles. His eyes dart between the three of them and some part of his body decides that panic is the best reaction of choice.

"DEPRAC wants to steal my papers," he says as some odd form of explanation, before disappearing into his room. Lucy snorts while Holly and her share a puzzled look.

"I think he's talking about our case report."

Whatever it was, it was being tucked away into his coat when she ran into him at the front door about ten minutes later. His smile is part grimace.

"Sorry about earlier." He stops talking, but looks like he wants to say more, so she patiently hovers. "About breakfast - I just feel bad for doing all this free labour, breakfast is the least I could offer-"

"Don't sweat it, I'm fine."

"Well, I'd feel a lot better if you popped by for a bun every now and then."

Her lips twitch. "Maybe I will."

There's a concerned look in his eye and his gaze that lasts a little too long to be comfortable, and it reminds her of the last time he looked at her like that. It had been near the tail end of the summer a few years back, late at night. She had been crying something awful on her front porch after a certain Noah Lewis had dumped her, and he was neighbourly enough to play a good samaritan in talking her through it.

It had started with a lot of unrestrained swearing and dragging of Noah Lewis' name through the mud as soon as she walked through the front gate, the kind that made her father peer out the window in alarm and then disappear back into the house. After a good quarter of an hour of this, her rage faded along with her energy, and she ended up crying embarrassingly on Lockwood's shoulder. "That's it," she had sobbed into his soft, forest green sweater that smelled like clean cotton. "I'm done with dating. It's the single life for me from now on." What flimsy grip she had managed over her emotions started to slip once more, as she burst into a new set of wails.

"Oh God, I'm going to die alone!" Lockwood rubbed comforting circles on her back as she clutched him tighter.

Looking back, she understood the smile on his face a little better, though a part of her still wanted to stay peeved at him for laughing at her misery. At least he had the decency to cold-shoulder Noah when he came around a few days later.

The memory occupies the back of her mind for the rest of the day, and it's still there when Lockwood returns. She doesn't realise it, but it makes her soften around him, though not noticeably so. By then, they've cleared up enough of the house to uncover the piano tucked away in the basement. Holly had spent the afternoon lovingly tuning it and polishing it up, but no one else seemed much interested in it.

After dinner, she sees Lockwood sitting at the piano, watching the keys as if he's too afraid to touch them. She joins him at the bench, taking in the sight of the glossy keys she could barely hear being played from her room when she was a child. Maybe that's what she's thinking about when she asks him to play something for her, and he obliges.

He plays a short piece that isn't extremely elaborate by any means, but it's beautiful and makes her want to rest her head on his shoulder. When he finishes, there's a short silence, and she tells him it was beautiful. She feels him smile against her head. Her fingers meander over the keys and she plays the occasional note as she hums some tune tucked away in the recesses of her mind. He picks up on it after a while, playing a more complete accompaniment to her stilted humming. She tilts her head where it rests on his shoulder to look at his face, and his hand slips on the note. She wishes to stay there forever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Hey." The last one was from Lucy, and it earned her a reproving glare and there was this silent yet intense communication between the girls. It's the next day, and now they've started on the library, sifting through the masses of newspapers dating well back into the past century. Lockwood had just returned from helping George at the archives (all the dust and cleaning was making his allergies act up so he wasn't at peak performance, as much as hated to admit it). She finally looks away from Lucy with the air of washing her hands of her, looking up at a forgotten Lockwood.

"Your coat collar's turned up."

"He does that to look cool. And because you're here. Dunno if you've noticed, Lockwood, but the coat hanger's by the door."

"Ha-ha. I'm leaving for Satchell's soon. Just...wanted to see how you were getting on."

"Wanted to see how Y/N was getting on."

"No, no." But his voice is a little too high-pitched to be fully convincing, and Lucy bursts out laughing, and his annoyance evaporates his nervousness. "Just making sure you haven't bullied her to tears, Luce."

"I've been such an angel."

She traces the outline of Lockwood's coat with her gaze fondly. "I remember the morning you bought it." She leans conspiratorially towards Lucy. "Preened in front of me for a good ten minutes, shifting his weight around to look cool. He only stopped when he heard my dad coming out to get the paper."

"That's awfully patient of you. George and I just try to suffocate him when he gets too unbearable."

"Are - are you hearing this? Admission of assault."

'Oh hush, you big baby."

She smiles as she watches them bicker. Lockwood clutches his chest with an exaggeratedly injured look, and their eyes briefly meet. He looks away first.

"What can I say? When you're stuck with this...peacock of a neighbour, you're bound to be forced into being an adoring audience on more than one occasion. Comes in and disrupts my peaceful mornings."

"Someone had to appreciate it, and you're always up at the crack of dawn."

"So are you, but you don't sleep so it doesn't count."

Lockwood lets out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter. Lucy's eyes look like they're about to fall out of her head.

"Sue me for wanting to share first thing I bought with my hard-earned money with someone."

She chokes on her breath, barely holding herself back from a fit of giggles. Lucy looks as though Christmas had come early.

"Lockwood had a job? Like, a proper one?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd call it a job so much as a cosplay of being working class. But yes, he manned a frozen yogurt cart in the park a few summers back. First and last time i've seen him willingly sit out in the sun."

"Oh, please, at least I didn't spend my days making eyes at Noah Lewis."

She shrugs in mock ignorance in a way that Lockwood can't help but match her smile. For a while the only sounds that could be heard were of the girls shifting through the newspaper with inky fingertips, until Lockwood finally gets up to leave for the client meeting.

It's an uneventful trip and consultation, but looks promising enough in terms of commission. It's tedious enough to make him peckish for a mid-morning snack. When he returns, he walks into the kitchen to sneak a biscuit and finds her fiddling near the stove.

"Oh, hi. Lucy and I wanted some tea but I'm not quite sure I know how your kettle works..."

He fiddles with the plug a little, twisting the wire in ways that make her concerned for his safety, but eventually they hear the kettle hum cheerfully, and they silently wait for the water to boil. She fidgets, trying to make small talk.

"How's George's room coming along?"

"I told him to pick out his favourite biohazards. The rest would have to go."

The kettle starts to crackle louder now. She eyes it apprehensively but Lockwood doesn't seem to even register it.

"House looks...pretty much the same."

"Yeah."

"I like it."

"Thank you. But I'm glad we're doing this. The spring cleaning, I mean. Sometimes I wonder if it's too crowded."

"I like it. I think it's crowded with life."

He gives her a soft smile and when he looks at her, he's not as quick to look away as before. But then he remembers her outing last evening and carefully broaches the subject. After all, it had been a while since they talked about things like this, and she was by no means obligated to, but he tried.

"How was your...date?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. It was alright. He's a nice guy. Patient. Down-to-earth Unlike someone I could mention."

Her teasing smile is back, and Lockwood feels as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. His features contract into a familiar melodramatic expression.

"I'm sorry I disrupted so many peaceful mornings."

A smile slides back onto his face as she scoffs and gives him a shove. "Very funny. You were plenty insufferable before your friends came along. You're lucky I wasn't as creative as them."

"Mm, so grateful."

More silence. "They seem nice, George and Lucy. I see why you spend so much time with them."

And not so much with me, she wanted to add, but she didn't want to cause unnecessary strife, so she just focused on keeping her tone light. But Lockwood still picked up on the subtle edge of bitternes.

"I thought you...moved on to other things in life. You don't stop to chat by the fence much anymore."

"You got so busy with your agency business. I didn't want to impose."

She glances at Lockwood's genuinely puzzled expression, his lips barely parted as she saw the cogs turning in his head, trying to reconcile the idea of their chats being an imposition. She feels awkward in a way she's never felt with him, even when it was just the fence in between the two of them. They went from close, to distant, to kind of close again for that one summer they were 16, and now...now she wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I...I didn't mean to."

"Yeah, well...you can say hi more often. Or bye. If you wanted to." It was stupid; she knew she was being childish but she couldn't help it. Something still smarted inside of her when she saw the three of them traipsing off most nights, something she didn't quite understand.

"I always want to."

"Lockwood? You better not be withholding tea."

They get startled by Lucy's voice and take a step back. Lockwood fumbles as he pulls off the top of the cottage-shaped container, scooping out piles of teabags. "Look, plenty of tea. All the tea. Please don't tell Lucy."

She shakes her head, bemused, pouring water into their mugs just as Lucy walks in, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Lockwood. Luckily, she gets distracted quickly enough and starts dumping sugar into her mug. She watches Lucy for a while until Lockwood fold his jacket over his arm, brushing her shoulder as he walks past.

"Hm?"

He stops by the door to the kitchen, a familiar easy smile on his face. He looks like home.

"Bye."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Why do you call him Lockwood? Surely you knew him when he was 'Anthony,' or - or was it 'Big A'? Please tell me it was 'Big A.'"

She had started to become a regular visitor at the breakfast table, which meant more time for Lucy to spend interrogating her on everything and anything about Lockwood. Even George had joined in briefly; it was too good of an opportunity to pass up for an enigma like Lockwood. All the while, he anxiously flitted around, on guard to brush off anything too incriminating.

He carries the kettle away, mildly peeved. "I think that's enough tea for you, Luce." Lucy makes a face behind his back and the girls share a muffled laugh.

"Oh, he hasn't been Anthony for ages." She smiles briefly, but gives Lucy's hand an intentional squeeze, her eyes asking Lucy to not press it. She doesn't realise how Lockwood has suddenly become much more interested in the paper only because she too is avoiding eye contact.

She remembers it like it was yesterday. Her parents had done their best to help Lockwood, but there was only so much they could legally do (not that it stopped her mother from sniffing disapprovingly at every inept social worker that walked up the garden path). It had been after Jessica's funeral, and for once they were both on the same side of the fence: sitting on the steps to the porch. He was wearing a suit that was a bit too big for him, not unlike his daily attire now, and the smell of burnt rubber hung in the air.

"I don't think I want to be Anthony anymore."

It was a decision that never confused her, not even for a minute. Anyone would have needed a reconstruction of identity after going through such traumatic experiences at an age as young as his. Adjusting to the change had been surprisingly smooth too; he didn't look much like Anthony after that day either. But it was bone-deep agony to watch time drip by, like lazy honey, and only being able to hope that he was getting happier.

Lucy picks up on the hint and starts asking George about the rooms they need to tackle today. Meanwhile, she walks past the kitchen window, nearly bumping into Lockwood. They breathe a reflexive apology and laugh lightly. Her eyes land on the angry red cut on his forehead.

"How's the-?"

"Oh, it's fine. Just a scrape. I've had worse."

"Aw, you poor baby."

Lockwood laughs weakly as she gently tugs at the skin near the cut, which at least seemed to be better than the previous night. When looks away she notices the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. She frowns at the slightly ajar window, closing it firmly. There still was a chill in the air from the frost that hadn't completely melted away yet.

True to his word, Lockwood comes home with a broken wrist a few days later. George is rather miffed and Lockwood insists that he's making it sound worse than it actually was, but that doesn't stop her from wincing when George claims he heard the snap of his bone from the floor below. Despite Lucy's insistence that he had survived much worse, she can't help but fret over him a little.

"I can pour my soup myself, you know."

"Yes, yes, you're a big strong man who needs no help. Now go sit down, I'll bring your toast." It might have been more convincing if she hadn't been absent-mindedly muttering, or even without the pat on his head, but he still took his seat at the table, not entirely unhappy. George had managed to wrestle him into his bed in the afternoon and his body finally succumbed to the beckoning of sleep, making him sleep through dinner. It was just the two of them in the kitchen, one anxiously watching the other sip their soup.

"Really, you didn't need to do this. It's no trouble on my wrist."

"Lockwood, the doctor said not to put any pressure on it. It is, by definition, trouble on your wrist."

He sighs, frowning at how she worries her bottom lip. "You're not...doing this out of guilt, or something, are you?"

She opens her mouth to deny it, to say how preposterous such a suggestion is, but her protests die on her lips. She takes a shaky breath.

"I was thinking about the days after...you know. How exhausted and lonely you must have been. How I didn't care enough to visit you more, to even cross that fence, unless it was to come running to you with my own silly problems."

"Y/N," he looks like he wants to smile but is trying not to for the benefit of the situation, and it rubs salt in her wound. "Of course you cared. You were just a kid, acting like kids do."

"I yelled at you about Noah when I was 16. 16."

"And I appreciated it. You gave me something more normal to be mad about. You made me feel like a teenager again." He reaches out and covers her hand with his uninjured one. "And I don't ever want you feeling like any of your problems is too tiny or insignificant to bother me with. I'm your neighbour, what else am I good for?"

She gives him a watery smile, feeling the tension that had been bunching around her temples all afternoon start to dissolve. He always knew just what to say, the ointment to every wound and scratch. He made it easier to live, easier to breathe.

"Wait, where's Lockwood?"

"Going down to Arif's."

"With a broken wrist?"

"He still has his left hand!" Lucy calls after her, but she's too busy scrambling for a pair of mittens and hurrying to the front door. Luckily, she catches him just as he's about to head out, and a smile cracks open on his face when he sees her.

"Everything alright?"

"You forgot your mittens."

He eyes the patterned woollens in her hands. "Y/N. I haven't worn mittens since I was...six, maybe."

"Obviously, since that's about how long they've been collecting dust in your old coat - which, by the way, is in no shape for the Salvation Army. You didn't set it on fire, did you?"

"Look, when it comes to fires, I may have an affinity for them but not necessa-"

"Fine. Just wear the mittens."

"I'll only be a minute! What's the worst that could happen?"

"Oh, yes, because a cold is exactly what you need on top of a snapped wrist and cut." She holds the mittens out expectantly, and he reluctantly takes them. They spend a few awkward minutes trying to figure out how to get them on without his cast getting in the way, and Lockwood nearly drops them when he gets startled by the brush of her fingertips on his palm, until she decisively puts them on his hands herself. When she looks up, his ears are tinged red again, as well as his nose.

"See, you're already getting cold. Are you sure I can't go to Arif's for you?"

They hear a scoff from behind, and turn to see George watching them. She looks at him questioningly but he ambles past her to the kitchen, muttering words under his breath she couldn't quite understand. Lockwood takes advantage of the pause in her fussing and steps out before she can continue protesting, but the sight of the mittens securely pulled over his fingers gives her some relief.

George turns his snigger into a poorly concealed cough.

"What now?"

"If you keep kissing his scrapes better, he'll throw himself off a cliff one of these days."

"George." Lucy admonishes him while she tries to settle the awkard swooping sensation in her chest.

"It's true and you know it."

Lucy nods awkwardly at her. "I mean...he's got a point."

When she thinks about it, it makes her feel funny in a way she can't deicide.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening, she's sitting on her porch, brooding, when Lockwood leans over the fence.

"Home so soon?"

"Thought I'd come here for some quiet thinking."

He nods affably, his flyaway hair gleaming in the setting sun. "You left your cards in the living room."

"Come on over," she says unexpectedly, possessed by a sudden desire to be close to him. It surprises her as much as him, but as she watches him walk out of his own gate, and strangely walk into her gate, the foreign sight reassures her with a distant sense of familiarity. She had been on so many crazy misadventures, but they all led her back to the same place: in his arms. Maybe the universe had grown hoarse from yelling at her to open her eyes to what was right in front of her.

He sits down next to her and hands her the cards. She looks at the quiet face of Anthony hiding inside the sallow face in front of hers, and marvels at how the same time that put her through hell as a child had somewhat healed his wounds. She puts them to the side and links her fingers in his, resting her head on his shoulder as their breath misted in the chill.

"Remember that summer at the yogurt shop?" She feels him relax against her as he hums in agreement. "You looked so fresh in your teal shirt."

"I wondered what you were doing, sitting under that tree all day. Was it really just to watch Noah all day?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. It was a weird sort of year. I had this restlessness in me...this desire to sit outside in the world and wait for things to start happening to me. For someone to find me and for my life to begin." She shifts, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "Speaking of Noah...did you know he got married last year?"

"Someone wanted to marry Noah Lewis?"

"You say things like that as if I wasn't ready to have his children just two years ago."

"To be fair, you weren't the brightest two years ago."

"Anyway, they're expecting a child. Him and his wife. I even sent him a baby shower gift."

"A gift? What, TNT?"

She laughs into his shoulder, and she can feel him metaphorically swelling with pride. And when she stops laughing, there is nothing to distract her from the dull ache in her heart, the string that tugged at it as it desperately reached for Lockwood's. Lockwood, who invigorated her spirit and quelled her anxieties, who was the balmy breeze on a warm summer evening, who smelt of a pleasantly sharp soap. She stumbled and fell a million times with all the wrong people in all the wrong places, but now she felt as though she were being reeled home by the invisible string that permanently and irrevocably tied her to him.

She looks up at the sky, a thousand different shades of blue, purple and pink. The temperature continues to drop, but with Lockwood's arm wrapped around her after a particularly vicious gust of wind, she feels warm enough. She murmurs into his neck and feels the hair at the back of his neck stand against her lips.

"Isn't it just so pretty to think...all along there was some invisible string," she inhales, "tying you...to…me."

#fanfiction #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood imagine #fanfic #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood x y/n #taylor swift #folklore #invisible string

[smytherines]

Fuck it, here's an Agent Mega dissertation

Alright since I have such elaborate headcanon for my beloved precious Owen Carvour, I guess I should do it for Agent Curt Mega too. Sigh.

So, going off of the last big one, if Owen is born in 1928, then I'm gonna say Curt was born in 1930. I'm forever won to the Texan agent mega headcanon, but I think it's safe to say that Mrs. Mega is not from Texas, probably more like New York or I've seen people say New Jersey.

We know nothing about Agent Mega's dad, but I imagine he was kind of a loser and low level con artist and moved his pregnant wife down to Texas to do scams around the bustling oil industry, and then soon after Curt was born a scam collapsed and he ran off. It's either that or an Aladdin 3 situation where he was secretly a spy the whole time and had to go into hiding.

So we've got mama Mega, raising a VERY hyperactive (read: ADHD) little boy on her own, in a place where she doesn't have any support, and he just becomes her entire world. But she has to work a lot, so Curt becomes used to taking care of himself, and most importantly- keeping himself busy so he doesn't lose it.

In this headcanon Curt would only be 15 when WWII ends- not old enough to fight, but definitely old enough to have personally known a lot of kids from his hometown who come home in caskets. I just truly think of WWII as a formative experience for both these guys. For Curt it just feeds into that inferiority complex.

Now anybody who has ADHD knows that you already spend a lot of your life feeling inadequate, feeling self-conscious about not being able to be the person other people want you to be (*especially* if you're queer). You get defensive, especially when criticized. You also get restless.

I headcanon Curt as growing up in Abilene, Texas, mostly because I have a friend who grew up there and I've visited and the vibe is right.

I don't know if anybody has ever seen The Last Picture Show, but its a film set in small town Texas in 1951-1952 (so a little late for our timeline but still) and it's (more or less) about two high school seniors essentially trying to escape this suffocatingly small, dying town before they become doomed to spend their lives trapped there.

That's definitely what I think about Agent Mega too- this gay, ADHD teenage boy climbing the walls of this little town, never being able to fully be himself. But he's got a lot of energy (and more than a little anger) to burn off, so he does sports. It's Texas, so football for sure. Maybe wrestling too. Perhaps wrestling is even where he has his gay come to jesus moment.

And when he isn't doing sports, he's home, alone (mama Mega is working so hard), out back drinking a beer (or two, or three) and teaching himself how to shoot. I think he becomes hyperfixated on becoming an expert marksman, because with all of this shit he cannot control, all the stuff he is supposed to be but isn't, this is one area where it feels like he has the power here.

What starts off as "kid drinking beer to feel cool and rebellious" starts to morph into a lifetime dependence on alcohol. Substance use is a big issue for a lot of ADHDers for the same reason I think it would be for Curt- it calms him down. It eases that constant restlessness in his bones. It softens the edges of other people's criticisms of him. It makes him care a bit less what others think about him.

In a vicious cycle, he drinks to avoid feeling those big feelings (especially as a man, especially as a gay man, especially as a gay man in Texas), but the drinking leads to more criticism, which leads to more drinking to numb the emotional response to that criticism.

But his hyperfixation on learning to shoot pays off. Let's say he becomes a junior state champion trapshooter (did I look up trapshooting competitions from the 1940s? yes I did). He's good, especially when he hits the sweet spot of drinking just enough to calm his ass down but not so much that he's useless. Maybe this is how he comes to the attention of the A.S.S.

And he fully believes that these skills he cultivated, the ability to hit hard and run fast and shoot accurately, his ability to escape when it doesn't feel remotely possible, is why many years later he just kinda rolls his eyes at Owen for insisting that they do things carefully and methodically. Careful didn't get him out of small town Texas. Careful didn't get him the exciting non-stop life he has now, a life where he *almost* gets to be himself a lot of the time.

When Owen "dies," and its Curt's fault, he naturally turns to drinking to numb that pain. But its a lot of pain, so it takes a lot of alcohol to kill it.

I'm sure I could go on, but as always I have rambled a lot here so I'm just gonna leave it.

#spies are forever #agent curt mega #saf headcanon #SAFtistic

[spicyvampire]

Okay so after the whole Sakuna/Wansarut and Phaya/Tharn "characters description" fighter (protector)/healer+protector(mediator) post, now imma talk about about our resident Snake (PhD), Doctor Chalothorn being a fighter and well how do you convince a fighter to not fight?

I've already made a whole gifset about this but I needed to put the stuff into words cuz u just can't say everything in a gifset so this post is gonna be about a few things, first of all, the way Charlothorn's goals shifted in the last 2 episodes, from wanting to kill Phaya so he can have Tharn, to wanting to save Tharn and Phaya's end not really mattering anymore, and second of all Tharn's role in this shift and where have we saw something similar to this shift before aka Wansarut and Sakuna and how Wansarut even did that

Same disclaimer as the last one applies : pulling this out of my ass from watching the show, these are raw out-of-order thoughts, ill try my best to separate but like the last post because I'm going to have to go back and forth between Wansarut (love of my life, talking about Wansarut has to be my favorite activity rn), Sakuna, Tharn (smooching him smooching him), Phaya and Chalothorn this might get hard to follow but hey that's what it's like inside my brain so welcome to the mess

Putting it under keep reading

So like I said in the last post, Chalothorn is a fighter, like you can't get more fighter than this, the man is literally the prince/ruler of Nagas and he is right in the middle of the battle field anytime there is a fight to be had, and like I said in Sakuna's part of the post he is a level that can probably can only be rivaled by Sakuna's brother, you can't be a higher level of Naga fighter from what I understand, so like how do you fight this man if you are Wansarut and Sakuna? (ep. 8)

Keep in mind that : the answer is that they never were supposed to fight Chalothorn

SCENARIO 1 : Chalothorn wins

This is what we've seen in the show, Sakuna/Wansarut/Phaya/Tharn would never win against him in a fight because they just aren't strong enough to began with, Sakuna and his Garuda were not Chalothorn's level when he was alive, Wansarut is a healer/protector not a fighter, Phaya can only do ✨Sparkles✨ of Garuda powers as of rn and while Tharn can do some powerful protecting he is of the gang the person who is the less in contact with his past and magical self (other than for protecting Phaya magic, we have not even seen his Naga in this lifetime) and also his past self wasn't even a fighter, so it makes sense that Chalothorn just keep killing them and every single one of their reincarnations, he kills them so much that it was destroying his own soul (ep. 8) because surprise he is getting affected by the little cyclic karma thingy they got going on too, this isn't just about Wansarut/Sakuna and PhayaTharn, Chalothorn is trapped in this shit too

Clearly fighting is not the answer, because even if you win, which Chalothorn has been doing a lot of, you still lose, Chalothorn is losing control of his Naga form, not only does it destroy his soul (ep. 8) but he might just not be able to turn into his human form anymore aka would be forced to be a Naga forever (ep. 9)

Another lost of this is that he keeps losing Wansarut and having to wait for the cycle to start again so he would get another chance, like the level of psychological damage getting done to him because he kills the one he loves and he is always left behind alone to wait is enough to drive anybody insane (ep. 11)

And I think that's one of the reasons why it took him so long to understand that he should let Wansarut/Tharn go, because when you do something so despicable and keep doing it over and over again you have to justifies your bad actions to yourself so you don't break and the more you justifies them the harder it becomes to see clearly through them, so you just keep doing it, like Chalothorn probably hates himself more than he even hates Phaya or love Tharn at this point because he keeps killing reincarnations of Wansarut, like this is his reaction to killing Wansarut the first time, falling to his knees screaming and everything (ep. 8), the cognitive dissonance in that man's brain must be insane

SCENARIO 2 : Phaya wins

Now let's imagine for a second there that they did win, Phaya succeeded in killing Charlothorn, and then what? Isn't Charlothorn just gonna reincarnate and come back for them again? Like yes it might take some times but it will happen, and then Phaya and Tharn would be the one destroying their souls and making their karma worst, that's just not a solution

Also we saw with Narong's case part of the show that "victim turned attacker" is not the answer (anyways that's what the show says), when Tharn and Phaya are talking to the abbot at the end of episode 5 the abbot keep repeating that over and over again killing is not the answer

When Phaya Says "Those victims are left with no choice but to fight back in order to survive. They have to kill." The abbot answers "The basic code of moral conducts for human beings like us is the 5 precepts. One should be abstained from killing other living beings. These precepts can bring peace and happiness to your family and the society. Undertaking the 5 precepts will benefit not only yourself but also the people around you." Basically straight up telling them that [not killing] is the only answer that will bring peace to everyone

Also so many parallels can be made between Narong and Chalothorn (which is probably why it was easy for Chalothorn to possess Narong to attack Phaya but let's not get into that), because like isn't this Chalothorn? (ep. 5)

His mind is so clouded by anger and wanting to kill Phaya and getting Tharn that he is obsessed with it, he literally do not see anything else, specially if Phaya is in the room and/or mentioned, like I said a bit higher in this post, he hates Phaya, but he probably hates himself too, and so much hate and anger just blinds people

Also sidenote that I'm not really gonna dive into : How do you think Tharn would feel about Phaya killing Chalothorn, knowing what u know about him? like Tharn loves Chalothorn as a friend, and that's even if Chalothorn is responsible for all the bad things in his life (ep. 12)

Tharn may be looking at Chalothorn saying this but he said "Please stop killing each other." he could not be more clearly talking to both of them, he doesn't want Chalothorn to kill Phaya but he also doesn't want Phaya to kill Chalothorn

SCENARIO 3 : Tharn Wins

Now lemme say this, you can literally never convince a fighter by fighting him, like if you've ever had a fight/argument with someone you know that you cannot reach a compromise in the heat of the fight when everyone is angry and losing the control of their emotions, it just doesn't work, but what does work in the context of the show?

Wansarut and Sakuna

And now I'm back to Wansarut (<3<3<3<3<3<3) and Sakuna because well Wansarut did change a fighter's mind before already, this is part of Wansarut's power that's why I also describe Wansarut as a mediator, and what did Wansarut do exactly?

Well Wansarut healed Sakuna, even if he is from the enemy side, and took care of him and acted in a way that was protective of him, even if again Sakuna is an enemy of Wansarut's people (literally brother of the Garuda king) because that Wansarut's character, Wansarut is a healer/a protect/a mediator that's how Wansarut fights (ep. 8)

Then Wansarut tough Sakuna about Naga culture (Naga offering and breathing fire to pay respect to Buddha, on the 15th nigh of the 11th waxing moon)

And while being in love with each other did facilitate this change of view in Sakuna (which would later turn him a bit into a protector of Wansarut), you really do not need to be for this to work, like the best way to change people views on some things truly is just to expose them to the thing from the POV of the people living it, when nobody is in any immediate danger

And that is exactly how Tharn succeeded in convincing Chalothorn that the love between Phaya and him is good, by being there for Chalothorn and taking care of him, and being patient, until Chalothorn was ready to let him go on his own, not in the heat of of fight when everyone is angry and putting the blame on each other, which was again so healer/ protector/mediator of him like I talked about in my other post

Tharn and Chalothorn : the final

So with Wansarut and Sakuna we saw how Tharn could change Chalothorn's mind and what really does work, now imma dive into the last 2 episodes of this show aka the shift in Chalothorn

So in episode 6, Chalothorn says this

And at that time I think those words were true cuz that's literally what he has been doing isn't it? Like everytime he lost, both Wansarut and Sakuna's reincarnations died, so he was "okay" with killing Wansarut, as long as it meant that Sakuna was also dead and they weren't together (crazy way to fight cognitive dissonance if you ask me) but then something changed around episode 11 because Chalothorn started saving Tharn even if Phaya was still alive? (Ep. 11) (ep.12)

The importance of Chalothorn saving Tharn those 2 times, is that 1) now Tharn knows what the fuck is going on and 2) (like I said in the other post) Tharn end up understanding that Chalothorn can be talked too and reasoned with (the abbot would call it enlightenment), because in that 2nd saving he told Chalothorn to not kill Montee, and Chalothorn listened

Sidenote : Wansarut also did tell Chalothorn to not kill Sakuna and Chalothorn did listen that time too, like Wansarut has a BIG influence on this man (wish we saw their relationship before the mess), the only reason why the fight did continue was because Sakuna did not let Wansarut go

Why did he listen then? because he loves Wansarut, it really is as simple as that, and that's why he also listened to Tharn with Montee, because our chronically involuntary celibate man is head over dick for Tharn (valid and relatable)

So remember when I was talking about cognitive dissonance and stuff, well by ep 12, Chalothorn cannot justifies killing Tharn anymore, he is tired, he is turning into a Naga, and he cannot stand seeing another reincarnation of Wansarut die again, but most importantly he cannot stand to see Tharn die by his own hands

It's easy to concentrate on Phaya's distress in this scene but Chalothorn is in as much distress as Phaya, you can hear Chalothorn's voice break when Tharn is dying in both Phaya and his arms after asking them to stop killing each other, they are both screaming Tharn's name, and this time Chalothorn just listen because this is too much, his hatred for Phaya is just not important anymore, killing Phaya is just not as important anymore because anyways Tharn did choose him didn't he? isn't that what he wanted? even if Tharn clearly is in love with Phaya, Tharn did choose to come with him, so in a way none of this shit even fucking matters anymore

So for the 3rd time, he saves Tharn, this time by literally giving Tharn his soul so he would live (wish we saw him breaking down over Tharn dying in his arms in the Naga caves until he ended up giving Tharn his soul tbh), Chalothorn chooses to save a life instead of ending one and thus ending the curse on his part

#the sign the series #the sign #mjtag #tagging you mj cuz u liked my chalothorn gifset so you might like this #hope this makes sense i kinda did not re-read after i was done writing it #my only critic of this show is that i needed them to huminaze chalothorn more #by showing me wansarut interacting with chalothorn before the whole sakuna situation #and also by showing me chalothorn crying/breaking down/panicking over Tharn dying in his arms in the Naga caves #until he decides to just give Tharn his soul #this show needed to be 14 episodes SO bad #i ended up not putting my critic in this cuz it was just too long #but what i just said in the tag is basically it my critic is that it needed to be 14 episodes #i can elaborate in an ask if asked about it #anyways this show really makes my psychology and character lover brain tingle

[manicpixiefelix]

*crashes my imaginary car into your inbox*

OLLIE WHO WAS ADOPTED BY READER'S FAMILY!!!!!

I know this is a major shift in established dynamics but hear me out!!!

What if Oliver's tales about his home life were actually true, worse even so he ended up an orphan? He gets adopted by Reader's parents for the optics mainly because it makes them look good and they figure it'll provide their heir with a companion.

So they become this peculiar little duo, both very observant of the world and people around them. Ollie is a stranger to this world of the ultra rich and endures etiquette classes.

Oliver Quick becomes Oliver L/N, the boy uplifted from squalor by the heroic family *eye roll*

Reader is fiercely protective of their brother and will ruin anyone that insinuates he's not ~really~ family

I know we've never really discussed the ancestral home of Reader but I imagine it is every bit as grand and impressive as Saltburn. Ollie's favorite room is definitely the massive library.

BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS A LOT OF COURSE I LOVE HOW YOUR MIND WORKS!!!!

Of course your parents love the optics of it all.

You're six when they adopt Oliver, and he's five; this mousy little thing who doesn't smile often and barely speaks and can't look you in the eyes. He shys away from your overbearing, performative parents, but you seem to be able to see how overwhelmed he's getting. There's no words in your first interaction, only gestures, taking and keeping Oliver's focus as best you can to ground him in the moment; you teach him a simple game, and he returns the favour. Not a word between you two. By the end of the visit, you realise the adults have gone quiet; your parents and Oliver's case worker are just watching you both, marvelling. As you're looking away, Oliver himself finally steps towards you, taking your hand carefully and half hiding himself from them behind you, as if already deciding to trust you. You and Oliver had begun the day as strangers, and ended as siblings.

Your parents love to tell anyone who will listen about how when you first met Oliver you 'practically fixed yourself to his side and haven't moved since'. You look like the perfect family in photos, and the press is quick to forget how little research your parents did on the last charity they very publicly supported, and it's less than ideal history. Oliver learns to smile on command the way you feel like you've always known, but at least they don't make the two of you seperate in these moments.

Oliver says your house is like a fairy tale. At first he sticks close by you, overwhelmed by it all, but as the days turn to weeks and then months, you start to lose him as he goes exploring amongst the estate's many rooms and corridors. No-one knows the old house better then you, but Oliver is a close second; Nan says Mother used to scurry around just like you did, used to know every trick the old house had, but that was a lifetime ago.

Mother's study locks from the inside and Father works long hours in the city, so it's up to you to help Oliver settle in with the nannys and the tutors and the rest of the staff. Your parents like to buck tradition, so they're not precious enough to hire anyone to teach Oliver the etiquette that usually comes with wealth and a house like this, so long as he was polite and respectful and sweet faced in public, they couldn't care less which fork he used for salad. Honestly adults at events found his lack of grace and understanding of their unspoken rules charming in its sincerity. You, however, know that their condescending adoration grates on your brother's nerves as they talk to him like he was some kind of pet.

On the weekends Nan comes over, and it's clear that Oliver likes her the best of all the adults in your lives. Like you she doesn't pressure him to talk, always taking his silence in stride, but also taking the time and putting in the effort to understand him when he does try and communicate, however that may be.

In public - not that you're in public a lot - you and Oliver tend to cling to each other. As you grow older, even as you stop physically holding on to each other, you barely seem to stray from each other's shadow. Of the two of you, Oliver still is the far more reserved one, happy to let you do the talking most of the time, often only sharing his thoughts as quiet asides to you alone.

Considering your parents had no choice but to publicly acknowledge you in this universe, you and Oliver very much grow up in the public eye. The strange, observant duo who seemed to have the uncanny ability to wrap rooms full of adults, the upper echelons of society, around their little fingers, grow into beautiful and bitchy socialites.

Considering you're both getting privately tutored instead of going to a proper school, most of your time is spent travelling and attending events. Following the various Fashion Weeks around the world is a yearly tradition since you were teens, you go to concerts and film festivals and galas, always together, always inseperable. Or at least, inseperable when being seen by people who might matter. Oliver's confidence grows, he's far more open and even talkative in public than when he was a kid, but there's comfort in your established dynamic too. It returns most often at formal events, with Oliver half a step behind you, murmuring his commentary and amusing aside to you throughout the night.

A few of the independent tabloids your family didn't own print unsavoury rumours about your closeness, but those get pulled from news stands within the day, and a few threats of defamation lawsuits make them think twice before printing those kinds of articles again.

Everyone in the Western world knows who you both are, or has at least heard of you. But thankfully it's been years since anyone had tried to tie Oliver back to the Poor Orphan Boy he was when he'd first been adopted. By the time you both get to Oxford, he's been your brother for so long that it's like the world has thankfully forgotten that it's not by blood.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #oliver ln au #head heart hand fic #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #it shouts back

[slow-writer]

TMAGP Episodes 7 & 8 Reactions

That was totally my face during both episodes, I swear.

Spoilers below!

Okay, I'm freaking out on a cellular level, it feels like.

Episode 6 had the introduction of new OIAR employee, Celia Ripley, who is voiced by Lowri Ann Davies. Those of us from the TMA fandom recognize her as the voice of Lynne Hammond who later became Celia because her name was taken from her after the Change. There have been speculations on whether she is playing the same Celia (even though this is a separate universe) or if this is just a little wink from Jonny and Alex behind the scenes. But then came the next 2 episodes.

The sheer amount of lore that was dropped in these 2 episodes has the fandom REELING. So, let's get into what we've heard!!

EPISODE 7: Right off the bat, Celia not only references that the dated computer system is basically better than "wrestling with tape recorders and manila folders." This feels like a TARGETED MISSILE at the TMA fandom. But right after that, she asks if any of the spoken cases have anything in common, and if there's a way to search the cases that have common threads, like, "Oh I don’t know. Every case about being buried alive or meat or… whatever." And if that wasn't enough, she recognizes the voice that Alice calls Chester (AKA, John!).

Those statements alone have me thinking with 99.99999999% certainty that this is the SAME Celia from TMA (or at least, she's tapped into her memories in some way).

Apart from Celia, we have Hilltop being referenced in a case, which could very well mean that it's a similar situation from TMA. Very possibly a rift in space-time or whatever. Some nexus of power or something.

Then Sam received a supposedly internal email from someone called "John" that contained an address and a name. Does this mean that John is truly trapped in the computer system like we've all been theorizing? Is this his attempt at making contact and warning Sam not to follow in his footsteps? AGH!

And then we have poor Colin, driven mad by whatever's corrupting the code he's been trying to maintain, taped over his webcam, and full on refusing any electronics to enter his office (that weren't already there, and he must have clearly tampered with them so they cannot spy on him). He even attacks Sam when he pulls out his phone. That man has a lifetime subscription to Paranoia Plus, if you ask me, poor thing.

Lastly, we get confirmation that Lena at least tried to kill Klaus, but may not have succeeded, and Gwen's blackmail of her puts her in a new role of "External Liaison," whatever that may be. (Oh boy, oh boy.)

And if that wasn't enough, we have today's episode....

EPISODE 8: No preamble on this one, just straight into a case. And man, are we having fun with the whole liminal horror plus Stranger vibes in this one! But the GOOD SH*T comes after the case ends.

Poor Colin's been put on Mental Health Leave, so I'm really hoping that wasn't the last we'll 'see' of him. And the banter between Gwen and Alice has much more of an edge now that Gwen's been promoted. But!!!

Sam and Celia went off together after they ended their shifts early (ooooh), and who did they meet?

GERRY EFFING KEAY AND HIS 'GEE-GEE' GERTRUDE!!!!

And I checked, yes, they are 100% voiced by their TMA counterparts, Jon Gracey and Sue Sims (Jonny's mom).

Gertrude calls Gerry her grandson (though I'm curious if this means Gerry's actual mother is dead here too, and when Gertrude stepped in as a surrogate, or if she's actually his grandmother).

When Sam and Celia ask about the Magnus Institute, they both kind of go quiet, like they don't know what they're allowed to say or if they can trust these strangers who randomly showed up to their house. Sam reveals that he was part of their "gifted kids" program (hello, ARG info!) and saw Gerry was also listed and wanted to "swap stories." Gertrude seems to want to push them away, all protective, but Gerry just says he doesn't remember much.

Did Gertrude blow up the Magnus Institute in this universe and adopt Gerry after she found him there?!?

And finally, after Gertrude kind of rushes them out, Celia makes a deal with Sam. They agree to keep track of anything that falls under each other's mystery interests. Because she's "doing a favor for Georgie" (HFGJHFD!), she needs to look into "Weird physics stuff: time travel, other dimensions, teleportation, all that good stuff."

Was Celia sent here from the TMA dimension to do recon?!?

Anyway, there's so much more to dive into, but those are the things that are currently making my brain buzz. How has your Thursday been?

#the magnus archives #the magnus protocol #tmagp #tma #spoilers #lore #im freaking out here wtf

[arthenaa]

Hey! I see your ask box is open so I thought I drop by and request something.

So.... my birthday is on September 21 th wich is (hier in Germany at least) in 4 day.... would you do me a brithday favor and make a headchannon/ story of female MC that is dating the hogwarts legacy boys (separated ofc) having a fun birthday with there boyfriend? That would mean the world to me.

Thank you in advance and If you don't want or can't do it that is fine too. Thank you for taking your time and reading this. Have a good one^^

Your Most Special Day - Hogwarts Legacy Boys x Reader

SUMMARY: It's your most special day with your most special person.

NOTE: Hey darling! Happiest birthday to you <3 My time is six hours ahead so I scheduled this to be released exactly at 12:00 am for you. Wishing you the best and have a wonderful day! Here's a song to set the mood and to also put the boys' feelings into a hymn <3 and if you can! try reading the english lyrics of the song. It really puts their words into reality. Hope you enjoy! (also my first work back after a hiatus! im gonna be active soon i promise) also not sure if this meant ALL the boys in HL but i only did my 4 boys

OMINIS GAUNT

Your love story with Ominis had been simple

It was direct and to the point

There was no dilly-dallying

You had already acknowledged your interest in his way before you had the chance to interact with him

When your options were only to gaze at him from afar and take little guesses on how you think his personality would be

It's safe to say that you weren't far off from your assumptions

It began with small interactions, saying hi to him in the hallways, opening the door for him, borrowing a quill from him when you "forgot" one.

Until eventually, all your hi's turned into hugs for greetings, opening the door for him to go to class hand in hand, borrowing quills to borrowing his robes when you "forgot" yours

It didn't take long for the two of you to establish your place in the romantic aspect of your relationship

Ever since you stepped foot in Hogwarts, discovered yourself, fought wizards and the dark arts, and just experienced a brand new journey, he was there to witness it all

He was a definition of consistency.

The one true constant in your life that begins at your first step as a wizard to the end of your journey as a student and into the future

And with your special day coming up, who else other than him would allow you to reminisce the fond memories of both the past, present, and the probability of it in the future

It's safe to say that Ominis had always been destined to be your definition of long-lasting.

"Happiest birthday to my muse," His voice resonates throughout the room as he takes careful steps towards you. In his hand is a small cake, candles stacked neatly on top of it—so orderly positioned and intricate that it prompts giggles out of you as he takes another step. He hears your laughter and only smiles. "My Pandora, the love of my life, my light."

You smile, clasping your hands together to your chest as you train your eyes on him. The low light of your small home contributes to the homey ambiance as the light from the flame of the candles illuminates the features of the face you've come to love over the years.

"I trust that the introduction was a bit much," You let out a giggle at his jesting to which he nods, admittedly. "I-I wasn't sure if this would be enough but then I remembered, you had always loved that little fox origamis I made for you back then so, I just went with what I have."

His hands shake as he grips the sides of the plate tighter. You lick you lips, eager to listen to the rest of his words.

"To think that borrowing quills from me would lead to finding you, that's probably something that I'd reminisce for a lifetime," Ominis smiles. "We've been with each other through every ups and downs—highs and lows. I couldn't ask for anyone better to share my journey with."

You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from letting your emotions get ahead of you. You had always been a little weak with Ominis. A detail he often held above your head like a prized niffler. Other than the jesting and bribery, for you, it acted more as evidence. A proof of your ever-growing love for him.

You glance down at the fox-shaped cake, designed to imitate that of a fox but it just looks like a mess of colors and lines that 'tried' to imitate one. The thought of Ominis baking around and messing in the kitchen puts a smile on your face.

"I know you're looking at my cake, stop judging it," He jokingly comments causing you to break the silence.

"It's- it looks—"

"Like a giant purple toad shat on it? Yes." Ominis tilts his head with a 'duh' look on his face.

"I was going to say modernistic," You retorted, eyebrows raised to defy him.

"Impressionism had never looked better," He deadpanned. You laugh at his humor. You take a step forward, encasing his hands that grasp the plate. Your eyes finds itself studying the little details and imperfections on his face—the moles that shape the universe of his skin. He looks gorgeous.

"Happy Birthday, love. Make a wish," He whispers, the light of the candle illuminating both of your features—casting an alluring glow that further emphasizes the beauty of your love. You pursed your lips, closing your eyes before blowing.

The light casts off at the gust of wind as Ominis smiles and says well done. He places the plate down on the flat surface of the table before turning back to you.

Finally free, he intertwines your bodies with arms encasing your waist. You envelope your arms around his neck in response.

There's a comfortable silence before he utters the next words, "What'd you wish for?"

You shrug with a smile. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Mhm," You hum, placing a chaste kiss on his confused lips.

"Why?" He asks. There's a pause as you laugh at his inquiries of curiosity.

"Cause I've already got everything that I've wanted." You smile, eyes dreamily staring as you push a stray hair behind his ear. "You."

SEBASTIAN SALLOW

Unlike Ominis, loving Sebastian had been a long journey

It was more of an inactive volcano

It had always been there—that probability. That capability of loving him but it was a matter of when those feelings would burst at a realization

It was a question of 'since when did I see him like this?"

Sebastian had been one of your many first friends.

He was naturally a people magnet, always captured new blood whenever they entered within his vicinity

He was loved and admired by everyone and you couldn't blame yourself for also falling for his silly little tricks

It also wasn't hard falling into tune with him

Somehow, with Sebastian, falling in love with him didn't seem hard

It was because of this that realization came much to a later date

You had always viewed your relationship as something closer than a friendship and one that really showed a bond of trust and loyalty

It had always been there and you had just taken a while to realize

Loving him was easy.

He showed you the world with an arm outstretched and you placed your hand willingly and followed him in

Loving him felt complete

And on your special day, who else can make you whole with just a smile but him?

You didn't know when it happened.

It was all just a blur. A series of memories all clumped up in the space reserved just for him. You remember bits and pieces but you can't seem to put a finger when you saw him like this.

Everything seemed to not be on par with time. Looking at him felt like the world had been a second later—slow-moving hands, traveling lights, and blurred faces. All you could see was him.

You watched as the party went on, laughter resounding throughout the room, joy evident on their face and the festivity of your birth hanged high into the sky. Yet despite all of these reminders of celebration, all you could feel was him.

He eyes you at the other side of the room, a cup of wine in hand. He looks at you with fondness and a desire deeper than what meets the eye. Your breath hitches at his unwavering stare.

Suddenly it feels like it's only the two of you in the room. Wanting, needing, loving.

It's him who breaks as he places down his drink before marching towards you. You pay no mind to teasing looks from your friends as he excuses you both from their presence with a charming smile and pull of your hand.

Your eyes train on his broad back, maneuvering you through the crowd, responding to curt greetings with a simple nod. They knew better than to interrupt Sebastian's quest with you.

You then find yourself in the comforts of your room, door closed as he positions you a few meters from the bed. He closes the door with a slight push, taking a moment of reprieve before turning towards you.

"Hi," he mutters as if you hadn't been staring each other down a few moments ago. You ride along.

"Hi.'

He chuckles softly as he takes a few steps toward you. You veer your head up to accomodate to his height.

"You look pretty, doll." He mumbles, tucking a hair behind your ear. You smile at his compliment.

"Thank you, love."

"I know you know this but uh," He pauses, taking your hands in his. "I love you."

The three words cast a flutter in your heart. You purse your lips, eyes peering up at him. He smiles down with that charming grin of his. He quickly places a kiss on your forehead.

"I just wanted to say it to you," He adds. "You had been with me in the most crucial moments of my life. You bled, wept, and sacrificed with me. Seeing you across that room had only further proved that I'll always want you—need you in my life. Loving you felt right."

He pulls out a box from the pockets of his slacks, opening it delicately. A necklace sits pretty inside it. The gem gleams at you as you gaze at it with surprise. You eye the intricate design of the pendant, carefully and exquisitely encasing the gem within it's design.

"Sebastian—"

"Happy birthday, baby," He cuts you off as you begin to tear up. You lick your lips as he pulls the necklace from its casing. You turn around, casting your hair aside as he puts it on swiftly. He then turns you towards the mirror.

"Dear heavens," He sighs as he gazes deeply into your eyes at the reflection. "You are an envy to one's vanity."

You giggle at his flattery. You quickly turn around to press a loving kiss to his lips. He pulls you close by your waist, encasing you close to his body.

"My everything," He whispers, a fond smile gracing his lips. "I am but a devotee to your love."

"And I, you."

AMIT THAKKAR

Dating Amit was destined

Like the stars that encompass the sky, one was always destined to burn brighter than others

He had been that star

There were a few things that convinced your peers of your fated match

You were into Divination, he was into Astrology

He liked tea and you liked sweets

He loved the galaxy and you liked possibilities which both are endless

You liked exploring and he had a knack for curiosity

The two of you are in harmony to the point that you couldn't imagine spending time without him

Loving him was fated

You somehow knew at the back of your mind that meeting this curious and wandering mind of a Ravenclaw at the Astronomy tower was fated.

You believed in anything and he believed in everything

A perfect match to your soul

And on your special day, who else could make you feel like the universe could just be at the palm of your hands but him?

"There you go!" Amit chuckles as he finally adjusts the party hat on your head.

"Do I really have to wear this?" You cast an incredulous look at him as he peers at you with squinted eyes.

"Yes, it adds to the festive nature," He smiles as he pinches your cheek. "Muggles love to wear that. Don't you look pretty?"

"Haha."

Amit chuckles at your response. You both are currently seated outside of your home, spread out on a picnic blanket—looking out on the stars. A telescope is placed on the side with assortment of food laid out on the fabric.

You grab a grape from its container before popping it in your mouth. "This better be good."

"It is!" Amit retorts as he settles down beside you, shoulder bumping against yours. "Just wait."

"Mhm," You mumble, chewing as you look up at the night sky. There's a pause before you continue. "Wait for what?"

Amit rolls his eyes. "It won't be a surprise if I say it, no?"

"Right, sorry Mr. Thakkar."

"Don't call me that," He furrows his eyebrows as you laugh. "It makes me sound old."

"You are old." You chuckle. He pouts at your response. As an apology, you lean close and peck his lips. "I still love you anyway."

Silence falls between the two of you once again as you gaze out at the clear night sky. The stars twinkle with each passing minute, allowing you to marvel at the beauty of it all.

"Ursa Major," Amit points out with his hand to the sky. You easily follow his gaze, seeing the famous constellation with each dart of your eyes as you trace over the connections.

"Pretty."

"You're prettier," He comes back with a cheesy line. You raise your eyebrow at him which prompts a blush on his cheeks.

"Really?"

"I thought I'd sound cool..."

You giggle at his defeated tone, placing a kiss on his cheek. Amit checks his pocket watch before grasping your shoulder as he pointed once again at the night sky.

"Look," he says. You watch with bated breath, curious at whatever Amit prepared to show you. You gasp as you finally see it. A flash of light smudging against the night sky. A meteor.

"Oh my," You revel in its beauty as it travels across the sky. Amit smiles at you before tapping your shoulder once more.

"Wish before it's gone, beloved." He nods at you before you both close your eyes to wish. There's a moment of silence before you both open your eyes once more.

"That was amazing!" You cheer as you grasp at his hand. There's a fond smile on his face. You cast a gracious look at him. "Thank you for showing me this."

"I wanted to see it with you," He responds. He delicately encases his hands over yours. "There's a saying back in my hometown that wishing upon a shooting star brings forth luck and good fortune."

You wait for him to continue as he pauses.

"There's also a saying that wishing upon a shooting star with someone is an act of ensuring longevity in the relationship," Amit adds, voice shaky as he rubs his thumb against the knuckles of your hand. "I continue to wish a life with you, Y/N. Fate allowed me to meet you and here I am now, the happiest man on Earth."

You stifle a sob, hiding it behind a laugh. He smiles at your teary face as he prevents himself from bursting into tears. He pulls your hand up to kiss the back of it before smiling.

"Happy Birthday, mera pyaar," (my love) Amit casts you a fond look, love bursting with each breath and touch against you. "You are the star that guides me in the sea of the unknown. My compass. My direction. My light. I adore thee as much as the stars litter the galaxy in an endless pursuit of existence."

A tear falls down your eye. "And you are the string tied to my fate. You are heaven's gift to me. I don't know how many times I loved you in my past lives but I know I'll choose you again in another life time and the life times thereafter."

GARRETH WEASLEY

Dating Garreth had been an adventure

a series of twists and turns that allowed you to unveil each layer with new emotions

He was an enigma

A mystery you were willing to uncover

And somehow in the midst of all that, you began to allow yourself to love him

Loving him felt like journey

It was there then it wasn't

A mix of highs and lows, each arc getting more and more deeper than the last

You expect after getting pranked and kicked out of potions by a Weasley would lead you to fall in love with one

Garreth made you feel alive

He's the thrill that thrums deeply in your veins long after he's gone

A high you can't get out of

No potion can ever cure a heart as sick as this

And on your special day, who else can you make you feel the thrill of an adventure but him?

"Tada!" He uncovers your eyes to show you the surprise. You adjust your eyes to revel in the beauty of the place. He had taken you to a quiet and neat little cottage with a majestic view of the sunset. You turn to him in surprise.

"How did you?"

"I pulled a couple of strings from Sebastian who referred this place then got some help from mum who helped out with the decor," Garreth grins as he grasps your hand in his. You smile at the beauty of the scene, the sun reflecting nicely across the meadow.

"Thank you." You tilt your head, eyes forming a look of gratitude before pulling him in a kiss. He melts into your touch, kissing back with subtle passion before he pulls away with a smile.

"I know things have been hard lately," He starts, taking your hand in his as he rubs his thumb against your knuckles. "I admire you for your hardwork and fortitude. You fight through it just as you have always been even if things are getting a bit rougher than the last and it just—" he laughs in between. "I just feel like a teenager falling in love with you all over again."

You lick your lips as you train your eyes at him, waiting for him to continue.

"You once told me I was an adventure. A thrill that makes you feel alive," He says with a love running deep in that green eyes of his. "But you, you have always reminded me of home. A personification of comfort and love. Everytime I look at you, I'm reminded of a past I reminisce with fondness, a present I cherish, and a future I can't wait to have. With you, I can just be me. I can just be Garreth. Just me."

You smile at him, tears collecting at the bottom of your eyes. He tucks a hair over your ear.

"Happy Birthday, darling." He mumbles, pulling you in a hug as he places a kiss on your temple. "Let's have this week as a moment of reprieve from any worries and just be ourselves."

You hug him tighter against you. "I'm here. With you. Just me."

He chuckles against your neck. "Just you and I, baby."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

END NOTE: and that's the end of it teehee. I hope yall enjoyed this !! stay tuned for more of my works. love yall 💗 see u mwa

#arthenaa #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy x reader #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #amit thakkar #amit thakkar x reader #hogwarts legacy boys #i love them #first work back #birthday hcs

[razorblade180]

As we've sort of seen how it happened with Weiss, how did Jaune end up falling for the girls in their respective aus? How long did it take for him to notice and for him to act on those feelings?

I should really find an efficient way to deep dive into my archives because I know for sure I have this written I. specific details Thank goodness I write things often enough to remember the fundamentals of my stories.

Rosebud- It’s probably the simplest. Ruby always had a crush in this AU. They started getting intimate with one another during their journey as RNJR; out of sense of comfort, stress, and growing affection. Ruby made the first move. They didn’t officially get together until sometime during V5 time frame at the inn. It was pretty much unspoken that they were going to love each other forever, and that only became more true when after Salem was beaten. At that point their love could really flourish. The silver eyed hero that saved the world at 17 was happily married at 19 and Jaune couldn’t be happier.

Lasting Embers is slightly more complicated but I’m not about to get nitty gritty in this specific post. Yang and Blake’s relationship got messy and tense after the revelation that was Adam being alive and the several run in that happened on the journey. After the break up, Yang was incredibly down and upset and it was mainly Jaune that helped get her through the funk. Eventually they got together but it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. There were several fights and even a breakup that mainly stemmed from the tense journey and Yang’s emotional baggage. Jaune even briefly dated someone else who Yang believed was better for him and deeply cared about him. However, after what could be described as the most selfless act of a lifetime, the two of them were able to try again and it was wonderful. They continued to love each other and let down walls that eventually led to a marriage that remains vivid in everyone’s memory.

So for Knigtshade context, Jaune and Blake were actually pretty friendly during Beacon days. Nothing crazy happened but they had similar music tastes and quiet spots to think. Also one of the major differences in this universe is they managed to lock Salem behind a relic door for a few years in order to train properly and prep the world for the real fight. It was during this time. Like Lasting Embers, Blake and Yang got into some drama, but this was ten times worse. So bad that it rocked the entire group. Ruby ended up making the executive decision that when it came interaction between Menagerie and the nearest Anima area, it would be Jaune and Blake while Yang essentially worked with Ren and Nora. The constant back and forth as well as the problem solving Blake and Jaune had to do together for so long naturally led to them getting to know each other more and being there to listen. They both fell for each other slowly. Things were a little better with Yang for a while until she noticed the signs. Eventually marriage became a reality and so was a family. Things were never really the same which is a little disheartening. Nobody is hostile to anyone but little Lucas could only wonder why someone so important to his family always felt a little distant on the rare occasions they met.

#rwby #rwby au #rwby lancaster #rwby dragonslayer #rwby knightshade #rwby rosebud #rwby lasting embers #rwby premonition #ask me stuff

[burstingwithbellies]

As requested:

I stand before you, pen and clipboard in hand. "And how are we feeling today?"

I am met with a moan of... pain? Pleasure? A mixture thereof? Like the lowing of a cow, though at this point such a comparison is way too generous. Nonetheless, I jot down my findings and begin my routine checkup.

At your current size, it takes a whole minute of straight walking to circumnavigate your body, or more precisely your belly. It's a colossal thing, a literal mound of flesh that I could crawl atop of. And every square inch is packed with babies, hundreds of them according to the latest ultrasound. Layers and layers of children overlapping one another. There are babies deep inside you that have never known the caress of an outside hand; only the hands and feet of their many siblings in every conceivable direction, all competing for a little more personal space.

As such, your belly is never still. Your flesh, impossibly taut as it may seem at a glance, is always subtly writhing, undulating like the sea. You certainly have enough amniotic fluid sloshing about inside to masquerade as one. As a matter of fact, I write down that idea: *Record audio of amniotic fluid, test against actual ocean noise, ask subjects to discern the two.*

I continue my rounds, looking up and down the expanse of your belly for anything concerning, noting places where new stretch marks and bruises have formed for later lotion and oil application. In the last few months, we've gone through lifetime supplies of both, which is only appropriate, on second thought. You're creating many, many lives within you. I squeeze your protruding belly button--long lost to you--as I pass by it, but the sensation might be lost on you, when you're constantly contending with the squirming of your brood.

After several minutes, my evaluation is complete and I meet you again, face to face. "Looks like you've grown a few more inches since yesterday," I cheerfully inform you. Again, you moan piteously, not even making eye contact. Understandably so. You're so pregnant that it occupies your every waking thought. I'm barely a presence to you. Which suits me just fine. I mark the time, document my intention, then I click my pen closed and set the whole thing aside on a nearby table.

The rest of your body is elevated off the ground, so I must climb a few steps to reach the platform we’ve built around you. Out in front of you, there is a recess for each of your titanic breasts, which have similarly swelled to titanic proportions in order to feed the legion growing inside you. You started producing milk six weeks ago, and since then we’ve had industrial-strength siphons attached to your breasts, pumping around the clock so it doesn’t painfully build up. Even so, you produce almost as quickly as we’re able to safely extract. Every drop we manage to wring out of you is bottled and placed in cold storage, as there won’t be enough time in the day for you to breastfeed every one of your babies. In this regard, and others, you have exceeded our wildest projections. You’re too good at this.

I slip behind you, comfortably settling on the same seat you are. There is ample space, which your body seems to have taken as a challenge. Your ass cheeks are huge and pillowy, a natural consequence of how many calories you’re forced to consume to fuel this impossible pregnancy and the sedentary lifestyle said pregnancy enforces. Needless to say, you’ve grown quite fat. Your ass cheeks alone, huge and pillowy, threaten to engulf my form as I spread them apart to reach my objective: your quivering, constantly dripping pussy. You may be barely cognizant of your surroundings, but your body immediately recognizes mine.. Your hips instinctually align with mine for easier docking. “Such an obedient pet,” I whisper into your ear as I press my cock inside you, grunting with some effort since you’re so tight and swollen. My hands glide across your tender skin, raising goosebumps with just the tips of my fingers. "Your whole body is so sensitive." Your moaning increases in pitch. "Perhaps some part of you recognizes that I am taking advantage of you. But what can you do about it? Your brain is mush, all scrambled from being a baby factory. And to think, you volunteered for this. A post grad student hoping to pay off his debt. How could you have known we would turn you into this," I squeeze some of your flesh. "A fat guinea pig is what you are. Nothing but a pair of tits and a womb. You're not even a person anymore, you're property-a piece of equipment, hardware, in our mission to push the limits of human potential. Hundreds of babies are growing inside you. So who's going to notice one or two more?" That is when I begin to fuck you in earnest, causing your fat to quiver and ripple with each thrust of mine. Pathetic sounds tumble out of your mouth every time I push, but you can't possibly form the words telling me to stop. You haven't burst yet, but that's always a concern at the very back of your mind. You're much too pregnant already, surely you cannot stomach even one more baby, the next one will surely be the one to break the camel's back (or water, in this case). But that exact thought has run through your mind before, every time I've fucked you over the course of this pregnancy, every morning after evaluation, and though your body complains every time, skin creaking in protest as it's forced to expand further... I can't recall a single drop of my seed ever escaping your pussy. Truly, your reproductive system is insatiable.

I check the watch on my wrist, and register surprise. "Evaluation took longer today. Guess I'll have to speed things up. But don't worry, I'll have you screaming by the end of this like always~"

My children. The brood. The populace in my gut. Yet another baby plumps up my stuffed gut. My stomach cries at the new addition to the batch. I become more distended, breaking a new record for the new hour.

I can’t stop the cycle. I’ve lost everything to you. My dignity, my humanity, my body, my mind, my freedom. But I’ve accepted it to some degree.

Throughout all the trauma inflicted on my womb and pangs of pain of being such an overburdened papa, I do still find pleasure. My body has been receptive to all the arduous challenges you have tasked upon me and parting my legs was always the easiest part.

Taking in your cock is natural, of course, your seed is the consequence and pregnancy would have been inevitable. But the sheer number of occupants…?

Well, I almost can’t blame anyone else for this predicament other than myself. At one point, I could have refused. But I just kept taking you on and giving into this pleasure and this hedonism that is so deep within me.

Now, there’s really nowhere else I can turn to… but you.

I can hardly remember the outside world or who I was before. It wouldn’t matter now; it’s not like I can return. I’m serving a new purpose. I’ve become something bigger than that what I was before. Both literally and figuratively.

I can’t quit. No, not until I pop or when all these babies eventually pass out of me.

Or when you eventually grow tired of me, which I highly doubt would ever happen. Many things escape my hollow mind, but I knew as much that I was your plow horse; your cum disposal. Not your life-size doll, but what is yours and bigger than life.

And I’m disposed to you. You’re my mine as much as I am yours but perhaps, this “relationship” is still less than mutual. My pussy aches whenever you are around. You have sown my appetite and it becomes fiercer with each encounter I have with you.

Satisfy me, even though it hurts.

#hyperpregnancy #feeling really kinky ~ 😈 #answered 💕 #mpreg #nbpreg #fpreg #pregnancy kink #pregnant fantasy

[argisthebulwark]

Happy week number two of @tescheer folks!!✨ I know that this is not entirely canon compliant but I am too obsessed with the idea of a New Years kiss with Brynjolf to care <3 This is another prompt combo - Kiss and Party :)

With each second that passed, they grew closer to the closing of that disastrous year. The Guild Master was tucked securely into her chair and attempted her sternest expression in case anyone happened to look her way. While the festivities were exciting, they were no excuse to fall behind in her work. Recruits needed fresh armor, new training dummies needed to be procured, and she had a meeting with the Black Briars that she'd yet to prepare for. Sweeping a hand over her table she grabbed a list of jobs yet to be assigned - a meeting with Delvin and Vex would certainly be added to her ever growing to-do list. 

Another round of laughter interrupted her thoughts. The Guild Master's gaze tracked around the tavern and felt something tugging in her chest - thieves gathered around the bar, drinks half finished and heads thrown back in laughter. It felt like a lifetime ago that she'd been part of their group, free from the constant weight of responsibility she now bore.

When she'd been awarded with the position of Guild Master it had felt like such an honor, a reward for what she'd endured. As the months dragged by she'd begun to realize why no one else was eager for the job. Mercer had enough thieving to last them a lifetime, which left her with little more than a never ending pile of paperwork and a persistent headache. 

"C'mon, lass." Brynjolf placed a mug of ale atop her list and the Guild Master grit her teeth. "Celebrate with us." 

"I have tasks to finish." She attempted to wave him off, though a hand around her wrist stopped whatever protest came next. Brynjolf's cheeks were slightly pink and his armor was unbuckled to reveal a dark shirt. Despite her best efforts she hadn't been able to stomp out that damned crush on him. It had stuck around since that first fateful encounter. The smile on his lips seemed to melt away all her worries when he guided her out of the chair. 

"It's almost the new year." He countered and she knew her resolve wouldn't last. She tried to remain wary but the excited chatter only grew as an ancient clock ticked down the seconds. The Guild Master's head felt fuzzy when Brynjolf's hand rested on her lower back, guiding her deeper into the crowd. Surrounded by old friends and new recruits, she allowed herself a moment of relaxation. 

"Been one hell of a year." Delvin's gruff voice cut through the rest, all conversations quieting. The Guild Master's cheeks burned when he raised his mug and nodded in her direction. "But with the help of Brynjolf and his favorite little recruit, we've finally righted the ship." 

Brynjolf's rich laugh warmed her heart. He remained close and bore an easy smile she'd seen less often during the past few weeks. He looked comfortable, like he could finally relax. A large hand patted her on the shoulder the Guild Master's stomach sank as all eyes turned to her. She prayed that they wouldn't expect a motivational speech.

"Choosin’ you is still the best decision I’ve ever made." His voice dripped with sentimentality and breathing became difficult. His gaze always knocked her off balance, heart skittering out of control and hands clumsy when he looked at her. She tended to ignore the childish crush, stuffing feelings down until they became easy to avoid. But as the last minute of their tumultuous year slipped away it was dangerously easy to grow closer to him, those old feelings bubbling to the surface. 

"Ten! Nine! Eight!" 

"I should get back to work." She breathed, enticed by the way Brynjolf had drifted closer. Bodies jostled as thieves joined in on a chant, counting down until the beginning of a new year. 

"Seven! Six!" 

"Is that what you want?" His words were heavy with another meaning she couldn't hope to discern. The Guild Master's throat ran dry when she recalled the old tradition - the myth that kissing your partner as the clock struck midnight heralded a prosperous new year. Brynjolf's deep green eyes took in every move she made and she knew she could reject him now, could flee to her desk and hide behind her work. 

"Five!" 

"No." She answered finally, hands trembling at her sides. Someone's elbow jabbed into her back as they hurried past, sending her stumbling closer to Brynjolf.

"Four!" 

"What do you want then, lass?" Deep and sultry, his words broke the last of her resolve. 

"Three! Two!"

Her eyes fluttered closed and her heart sang when she swallowed against the cowardly urge to back out. She'd sold her soul to a Daedric Prince and faced off against unbeatable foes, she could be brave for this one moment.

"One!" 

Kissing him was messy, arms flung around his shoulders and noses bumping together. He tasted like ale but the Guild Master paid it no mind. Brynjolf's hands steadied her, chuckling into the kiss. One strong arm wrapped around her waist and she was in heaven, Brynjolf's lips moving so easily against hers. It was better than all those little fantasies that had floated around in her mind over the years, clumsy yet perfect. Somewhere off in the distance she heard someone hollering her name but nothing mattered other than his kiss.

She didn't open her eyes when he pulled away, forehead pressed to hers. A soft kiss landed on her overheated cheek but she couldn't look quite yet. Her cheeks burned when she heard one of the thieves wolf whistling and fought to stay in this blissful little moment with Brynjolf.

"Hell of a way to start the new year." 

#writing #skyrim #tescheer2023 #week two: kiss #week two: party #tescheer #brynjolf

[dragonsdomain]

Blob Ghost Supreme chapter 2

AO3

Chapter 1

Danny's first victory was not met with the unadulterated praise for which he'd hoped. He heard terms ranging from "Cheater!" to things he wouldn't be able to repeat over the dinner table flung towards him like javelins, along with empty snack packages he had to dodge. The screams of the audience carried a whole range of emotions, the kind of sound that might herald a riot. Would it make things better or worse if Danny tried to step in and get them to settle down? No, Walker's minions were already on that.

Danny glared defiantly at the audience, then headed out of the arena. This was the beginning. So they didn't believe a blob ghost could win that fight fair and square? So they were enraged by the very idea of it? He'd show them. He'd make them believe he was the real deal, that he deserved their respect. If winning this whole tournament was what it took to make that happen, so be it. He would do it.

...

Sam and Tucker had to grab hold of each other to make sure neither got swept away by the increasingly riotous crowd after the battle ended. The ghost cops all jumped into action and soon enough were able to calm the crowd into a tamer simmering discontent.

Muttering continued between audience members as they finally started to settle back into their seats.

Tucker grabbed the shoulder of a Day of the Dead skeleton to his right. "Hey excuse me, what was that? What just happened?"

"I don't know!" She exclaimed. "A blob ghost, just taking out so many ghosts like that? It shouldn't be possible! Did it cheat? Did it bribe all those ghosts somehow? What does it want? We can't let a cheater get away with becoming the ghost king! We—"

"Wait!" Tucker waved his hands to grab her attention. "I just mean like, what are the rules of this tournament? How does this work?"

The woman sagged, scowling at Tucker. "If you care so little about this tournament, why are you even here?" she sighed. "It's the Ghost King Tournament. It'll have three rounds of one on one battles between eight contestants, and the final winner will be the new ghost king." She pointed down at the arena, where the ghost cops were now working on freeing the defeated contestants from ice. "That was a preliminary round. There'll be eight, with contestants randomly divided between them, and the last ghost standing at the end of each preliminary round will be one of the eight contestants."

Tucker nodded. "Okay. Thank you. That helps a lot."

The woman stood, dusting herself off. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go discuss this with someone who actually cares how it turns out."

Tucker turned back to Sam as the other ghost turned away, finding her having some debate about ghost races with a dangerous-looking ghost to her left. Tucker pulled her away from him. "Sam, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sure." Sam looked like she was about to fire some final word at the large ghost behind her, but Tucker yanked her away into the crowd before she could.

Tucker grabbed her face in his hands. "Sam, that blob ghost Phantom is really powerful."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "We're not leaving."

"What do you mean?" Tucker glared at her. "What are we even doing here then? Putting our lives in danger for curiosity's sake?"

Sam grabbed his shoulders, holding him away from her. "Look, we may not be sure exactly what's important about what's going on, but this tournament is a huge deal. Seeing it could be a once-in-a-lifetime experience."

Tucker started to respond, but Sam interrupted him. "Plus, how much danger can our lives be in if we've somehow been sponsored by the Observant boss or whatever it was that police officer ghost said?"

Tucker frowned. "What was that about, anyway? Why would some important ghost want us here?"

Sam let go of Tucker and started tapping her chin. "I think the ghost mentioned that it was because we're the future ghost king's friends. But we don't have any ghost friends. Do you think it's some kind of mix-up? Did we actually fool them?"

Tucker shrugged. "Yeah. I don't know. It's weird." He straightened. "If we're not the right people, then... what'll happen when they find out the truth?"

Sam cringed. "So we might be in a little danger. Okay. Still, it's not like we'll ever get another chance like this."

Tucker curled in on himself. "I don't know. I don't like it. I feel like we're getting in way over our heads, Sam. We're supposed to be having a hangout with Danny right now! What are we going to tell him when we get back if he's been there waiting for us now?"

Sam pulled out her phone. "Do we have service—? No. Yeah, um. Okay. How about we compromise. If things start going south, if somebody tries to hurt us, we leave. Okay?"

Tucker rolled the idea around in his head. "Okay. Fine. I mean, yeah, I'm curious too." He shuffled awkwardly. "Do we have to watch all the prequalifying fights though?"

Sam smiled in relief. "No, we can probably find some hallway to hang out in 'til the one-on-one fights start. Thanks, man."

Tucker smiled wryly. "I'm the one who gets to call if things are getting too dangerous, 'kay?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Fine."

The two of them walked up towards the top of the audience seating, looking for an exit to somewhere else. The next pre-round was about to start, and it'd be better to get out of the way before things got exciting again.

Tucker worried there wouldn't be anywhere to go since most ghosts got around by flying, but thankfully they were able to find an exit to some hallways that could easily be reached by foot. Was this place based off of a human colosseum? Or was it originally built by humans? It'd be pretty interesting if the places in the ghost zone were the ghosts of places from the real world too.

The hallways weren't completely quiet and still had a fair number of ghosts milling about, but it was significantly more peaceful back here than out in the audience.

Sam and Tucker started strolling aimlessly down the hall.

"You know," Sam said, "If you don't want to be here, I could drop you off back at the Fentons' with the Speeder. You don't have to be here with me."

Tucker snorted. "Yeah, right. I'm not leaving you here in some deep part of the ghost zone all alone."

Sam smirked. "I guess it is kind of nice having you here too."

They found a bench and sat down. "Too bad Danny's not here," Tucker said.

Sam leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. "His fault for being so late," Sam said. "Plus, he hasn't been that interested in ghost stuff anyway. Any time I try to talk about that blob ghost—Phantom—he's always changing the subject."

Tucker frowned, thinking.

Sam glanced at him. "What?"

"Why is it always us who see Phantom? It's not like it’s rare for the little guy to show up, but Danny's never been there when he does."

Sam tilted her head. "Well, huh." She frowned down at the floor. "Is he avoiding Phantom on purpose?"

"But how would he know when Phantom was gonna show up?" Tucker asked.

"I mean, whenever a ghost shows up for it to fight? I have noticed Danny taking bathroom breaks often when that happens." Sam tapped her fingers.

Tucker stared down at his shoes. "Correct me if I'm wrong. But didn't Danny always leave before the ghost would show up?"

"Oh." Sam nodded. "I mean, that makes sense. I was trying to remember why teachers would let him leave if a ghost was there. Makes more sense if he'd left before."

"Weird," Tucker said, folding his arms.

A flash of green zipped by at eye-level.

Tucker and Sam launched up from their seats. "Phantom!" Sam cried, dashing after him, and Tucker followed quickly after.

Phantom was far faster than the two humans were on foot, even when he was having to slow down to take turns in the narrow hallway. Soon enough they'd lost sight of the blob ghost, but kept tracing his path by asking nearby ghosts which way they'd seen him go.

Eventually they wandered their way down to a basement story, where there was some kind of ghost gym (it looked pretty similar to a human gym except that some things were floating). Phantom was visible repeatedly tackling a sandbag with enough force to send it swinging wildly, and the ghosts near him kept giving him nervous glances.

Sam strode up to the blob ghost and said, "Hey, Phantom!"

"AH!" the blob ghost jolted to a halt with an adorably high-pitched shriek.

Yeah, okay, Tucker was no longer scared. He walked up to the ghost and stood next to Sam.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Sam said with alarming respect towards a tiny creature with such an adorable voice.

Tucker coughed, trying to regain his composure.

Phantom muttered something about how he wasn't startled, and was Tucker imagining things or was his face a darker shade of green? Anyhow, "Well, what is it?" Phantom asked.

Sam drew herself up and cleared her throat with a level of professionalism that made Tucker wonder what was about to come out of her mouth. "As the ambassadors from the humans to this auspicious occasion, we'd like to ask you a few questions about you and this event."

Phantom scoffed. "You two are ambassadors? From what government? No one sends ambassadors to the ghost zone!"

Tucker glared at Sam with the intensity it'd take to telepathically call her an idiot for thinking that would work again.

"Uh," Sam continued. "Well, from America. We're the kids of the president!"

How far are you going to push this? Tucker telepathically glared.

Sam glanced at him and finally noticed his glaring and gave him a telepathic I dunno, man.

Phantom dipped down low in a mock bow. "Oh, my apologies, Princess Samantha." He froze.

"How'd you know her name?" Tucker asked.

"I- uh- I heard it? From someone? Didn't you mention it?"

"No?" Tucker said in bafflement.

"Uh, well, I think my fight is about to start!" Phantom gave a laugh that sounded very fake and anxious. "BYE." The blob rocketed out of the room.

There was an awkward silence in the gym as the other ghosts stared after Phantom. "I don't think they're even done with the pre-rounds yet," one of them muttered.

After a minute, the ghosts started going back to their exercising. Sam and Tucker looked at each other. "Is it just me," Sam began, "or did Phantom know a lot about the human world?"

Tucker frowned at the floor. "Maybe he died recently? And how did he know your name? Do we know him?"

Sam inhaled. "Something felt familiar about the way he talked. I can't put my finger on it."

Tucker shrugged. "He hurried away pretty quickly. Seems like even if we did know him, he doesn't want to talk to us."

Sam folded her arms. "Or he doesn't want us to find out."

...

If Danny was lucky, Sam and Tucker would write off that interaction as just weird and awkward and forget all about it. And then they wouldn't bother him anymore, and they'd never have to find out that he had secretly passed halfway into the afterlife in the most embarrassing way possible.

Danny was not lucky very often.

Still, he was trying to put it out of his mind. He had to be focused when it came time for his first battle. It would stink if he lost in the first round.

"Welcome to the first round of the Ghost King Tournament! Behold our first two contestants: Phantom the Blob and Skulker the Hunter!"

Both contestants entered the ring, and Danny saw who he was fighting. Was that a mech? His opponent looked like a robot. Maybe he was operating it through possession.

Skulker gave a condescending smirk. "I usually don't waste my time with common prey, but I'll make an exception this once." He lifted his arms, which unfolded into a gun. "Make this interesting for me, whelp."

Danny dodged away from the blast, hissing. "Since when are we allowed to use outside tools in this fight?!"

Skulker glared. "This mech is as much a part of me as any other ghost's power." He raised his arm cannon for another shot.

Danny dodged easily again, but the shots looked powerful enough that he didn't fancy getting hit by one. He should make this quick.

Danny tapped into his second core, pulling forth the power of space. He opened his mouth, letting loose a miniature black hole.

Crowd members shouted as they started being pulled towards the battle. Danny's eyes widened. Oops. He hadn't thought about that. With some focus, Danny managed to create a shield around the arena, stopping the force being exerted on the crowd and eliciting some relieved breaths.

Skulker, though, was still struggling against Danny's hole's gravity. Danny floated lazily beside it, waiting for it to do its work. Starting to look panicked, Skulker fired another blast at Danny but it curved into the black hole harmlessly. Skulker gave a cry of dismay as his arm gun broke loose and was consumed by the black hole. Danny smiled smugly.

"What are you?!" Skulker huffed as he pressed himself up against the wall.

Danny sneered. "I'm a ghost, just like you!"

Skulker looked terrified. "Blob ghosts can't do things like this."

"I can," Danny answered darkly.

The black hole grew in size, and Skulker's armor started ripping away piece by piece. He shrieked, trying to hold onto his breastplate, but it flew out of his grip. Skulker finally gave a last ditch effort to lunge at Danny with a set of blades, but Danny dodged easily and started firing his own ecto-shots to slice off whatever weapons he could see.

After another second, Skulker's entire silhouette seemed to break apart and fly towards the black hole. Danny yelled, zipped over and consumed the black hole before it could destroy the ghost.

He hovered there panting.

That. Had been too close.

Skulker's robotic limbs lay scattered across the arena. Danny was suddenly aware of how quiet the audience was.

He floated forward in dread. Nothing was moving.

"...Skulker?" Danny pleaded, drawing close to the disembodied head.

It broke open, and Danny screamed.

"Hey! Shut up! You won, okay?"

Danny froze.

Inside the opened robotic helmet was... another blob ghost. Kind of skinnier than Danny, with shrimpy little limbs. He sat up and glared. "I hope you're happy."

The audience burst into murmurings. Danny heard snippets again of what they were saying, accusations of cheating again, of collaboration, miscellaneous trash talk about blob ghosts.

Danny floated away from the blob ghost that was apparently the real Skulker. He hadn't killed him. That was good. Still, he'd probably need to be more careful with his powers in the next battles.

...

"Another blob ghost! Of course. Finally, something that makes sense. Of course a blob ghost could beat a blob ghost."

The ghost beside Tucker started laughing rather hysterically as pandemonium continued in the audience around them.

Tucker turned to Sam. "Did you see that?"

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific, Tuck," Sam responded.

"At the end there, after Phantom got rid of the black hole," Tucker said. "It looked like he was breathing. Panting."

Sam gasped. "You're right. And the black hole? Space powers?"

"Who's one of the people we know who's most likely to accidentally call you by your name? Your nickname?" Tucker said, feeling thoughts piece together in his mind.

He and Sam stood up as one and bolted out into the hall.

"What does it mean? It doesn't make sense!" Tucker called after Sam.

"I don't know! But we're going to get answers." Sam shot back over her shoulder as they ran.

The two of them pounded down a staircase, dashing down the hall and past a couple security guards. They yelled after them but were ignored by Sam and consequently by Tucker.

They reached their destination: the door where Phantom would come out after the battle. There he was, just about to head off down the hall.

"Phantom!" Sam called at the same time as Tucker yelled "Danny!" All three of them froze.

Tucker gulped. "I, uh. Wasn't planning to call you that."

Phantom swooped closer and bit Sam and Tucker's backpacks to drag them hurriedly into an empty side room.

He pushed them in and wrenched the door closed.

"You can't be yelling weird stuff in the halls at me," Phantom snapped in a voice that Tucker was now distinctly aware sounded almost exactly like Danny on helium. "I don't know who this Danny is, I don't know anything about him. What do you two want?"

Sam started spouting out their handfuls of evidence at the blob ghost's annoyed face, but Tucker started to tune her out as his mind whirled. This ghost was acting exactly how Danny would if he was annoyed, or even more like if he was pretending to be annoyed but was really trying to hide something.

"...Did you come from him?" Tucker said softly, almost not even aloud. "Were you born when Danny had that accident with the ghost portal?"

Phantom froze, looking at Tucker in alarm.

"Or... no, you were breathing back there, like a living human. Wait, and why-- you--" The pieces snapped into place. "You are Danny."

Phantom started to pull back, eyes wide and scared.

"Tuck?" Sam spoke softly.

"That's why you didn't show up this morning," Tucker breathed, piercing the ghost with his gaze. "Because you had the tournament to go to. It's why you've kept leaving class before ghosts show up and why you're late for things and busy so often these days. Because you're Danny. You're Phantom."

It all made sense in Tucker's head, but spoken the ideas sounded almost ridiculous. Almost, because Phantom looked far too alarmed. Like Tucker was right.

Sam gave a weak laugh, glancing searchingly between Phantom—Danny and Tucker. "What?" she asked.

Danny shrank down towards the corner. "I... I didn't... not like this..."

"What?" Sam asked desperately. "He's right? You-- Danny?"

Danny curled down further.

That was all the answer Sam needed. "What happened to you?"

Danny couldn't look at them. "The ghost portal half killed me. So I'm part my human me, and part... this."

Why didn't you tell us? Tucker wanted to ask, but he knew the answer. "And you were too embarrassed to tell anyone."

Danny nodded. "Nobody respects my ghost form. I wanted to use this tournament to prove to everyone that I'm not just some tiny cute ghost."

"Can we go back to the part where you're dead," Sam said dazedly.

Tucker ignored her. "So were you gonna tell us about this after winning?"

Danny tilted thoughtfully. "I dunno. Maybe."

Sam blinked. "I mean. Do you really need to do all this? I mean everybody already knows that you're crazy powerful, even if you're also kind of ado—" Tucker smacked her.

"For the record, this doesn't change how we see you, man. You don't have to win some crazy tournament for us to know you're cool." Tucker put out a fist for a fist bump before awkwardly remembering that Danny currently was a blob and had no fists.

However, Danny hovered up off the floor and gave a little smile before headbutting Tucker's fist. Tucker couldn't stop a little laugh from escaping. He was so squishy!

And adorable.

But he would die before saying that out loud again.

Chapter 3

#my fanfics #Blob Ghost Supreme #Danny Phantom #Blob Ghost Danny au #crack #tw violence #ectoimplosion2023 #no one knows au #Sam manson #Tucker Foley

[zabiume]

✨bee's 2023 fic round-up!✨

hello! i've never done this before, but i wrote so many fics this year that i'm proud of, so here's my official 2023 fic round-up! i wrote for two fandoms, a lot of ships, and spent an insane amount of time thinking about my favorite characters, as usual. i hope you all enjoyed reading these fics as much as i did writing them; i enjoyed receiving all your comments — the long-time readers, the new ones, and everyone in between! it was such a joy and pleasure bonding with you over something i wrote, and i hope i can bring just as much creative energy into 2024 that i did into 2023! anyway, without further ado, here are all the bleach fics i wrote this year, under the cut for your reading convenience! ↓

bubblegum hearts | riruka/orihime, pre-relationship, angst, 1.6k

Half of her wonders why she’s even here, when Orihime has an entire motley crew of idiots who’d sit here and let her snot soak up their sleeves like she’s doing right now. But when Orihime’s hand curls around hers with a small squeeze, she feels the harshness cut right out of her and melt into something soft and steady. Something supportive, even.

a world of our own | ichigo/orihime, trans!ichigo, fluff, drabble

It's mid-noon, and a song is playing, though Orihime can't really tell which one.

build a house in paradise | ichigo/orihime, slice of life/domestic fluff, 4.4k

He was learning more about himself than he ever had before, and in turn, was learning more about Orihime. No two days could ever be alike with her, and he was truly starting to come into his own. Ichigo and Orihime move in together.

You Can Show Me Your Heart | sado/orihime, post-tybw, h/c-ish, 7.5k

Sometimes they sleep together, sometimes they just grab dinner outside. In his bed or hers, he looks beautiful, and she likes to just watch the slant of light paint his serene face golden-brown when they spend time together. Sado and Orihime, after the war

two bodies glowing | ichigo/orihime, light angst, PWF, 4.4k

"Orihime," Ichigo said finally. "Do you know what I'd do to a guy if I heard you cried every time the two of you were together?" Ichigo and Orihime have their first real fight.

Therein Lies the Heart | gen, orihime-centric, post-winter war, 12.8k

In the aftermath of the war, Orihime knows she has a difficult recovery journey ahead. The road to discovering herself is long and full of hard pills to swallow, but within her is a resolve that runs deep. All she has to do is believe.

garden of the love we found | ichigo/orihime, marriage proposal, 2.5k

“We should get married,” he says to her when she fully wakes up, watching her stretch her arms above her with a lazy yawn.

doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt i love | ichigo/orihime, pining, 6k

In all her five years of knowing Ichigo, Orihime has never once thought of writing him a letter, or making him a bento, or cornering him on a sunlit rooftop.

mountains and molehills | ichigo & kazui, character study, post-canon, 2k

When Kazui was little — little enough for a piggyback ride — his dad would take him on patrol sometimes, the only time that Kazui got a glimpse of this whole other world his dad belonged to.

Gods & Monsters [ongoing] | ichigo/orihime, mafia AU

In 1920 New York, a young Don Kurosaki navigates the dangerous world of organized crime, making tentative alliances, deadly enemies and a love that lasts a lifetime

that which we cannot see | ichigo/orihime, soulmate AU, angst, 7.7k

Orihime has a soul mark. Ichigo does not.

A Combination of Factors | ichigo/orihime/uryu, polyamory, threesome, 8.7k

Uryuu settled back, still tense like he was anticipating an attack. "What's going on?" "Well, we've been thinking, and we wanted — the two of us, I mean — to talk to you about," Orihime cut herself off, glancing at Ichigo and then Uryuu, "us." "Us," Uryuu repeated. "Yes!" Orihime clapped her hands together eagerly. "We wanted to invite you into our relationship," Ichigo stated, ripping off the band-aid effectively into the stunned silence of the room.

dogfish | orihime-centric character study, experimental style, 2.5k

Mostly, I want to be kind. And nobody, of course, is kind, or mean, for a simple reason. - mary oliver. [or] the world's weirdest orihime character study

Sailing to Byzantium (chapter 3) | isshin/ryuuken, kurosaki-ishida family bonding, 15.9k

On the other side of the resort, Ichigo is trying his best to not look complicit as Uryuu bends over to pick a lock. "Look," he says, a little hesitantly, "are you sure we should do this?" Uryuu stops completely and looks at Ichigo, baffled. "Kurosaki, are you scared?" Ichigo frowns. "It's not that." Somehow Uryuu just looks more surprised than before. "Have you never snuck into your father's room before?"

Postcard Mouth | sado/uryu, post-canon, soft fix-it, 8k

It's a strange kind of irony knowing that Uryu is on the roof of a building, while Sado is the same, somewhere a thousand miles away. When the next text comes in, Uryu doesn't even have to reply. He knows that Sado will know that wherever they are, however far apart, their thoughts are the same. Wish you were here.

#thought of adding my knb fics in here too but at the end of the day this is still my bleach sideblog so i didnt! #what a year huh #myfic

[yuurivoice]

How is Haru so chunky in comparison with the other kitties? I myself have a chunky cat that got chunky out of nowhere and is now obsessed with food, also out of nowhere.

Well ya see, when he was but a young lad he nearly died because he wasn't eating enough and wasn't pooping. Then he started eating and pooping........a lot.

So initially it was good because he was so underweight. Baby needed the nutrition. But now he uh...he lub food. 🥴

I'm hoping that we can course correct with portion sizes and getting him off of kitten kibble because he fuckin loves kitten kibble but eats a normal amount of adult kibble. The concern is his digestion because we've had so much poop struggle over his lifetime that for now it's like...we can get him on track weight wise when we know for sure he can cut turds regularly lmfao

The vet wasn't concerned and was more happy to see him growing and healthy. It would only really become a concern if he gets older and he stays this particular proportion.

I'd probably eat a lot too if I went for months thinking food was bad and hurt me, then it was okay again.

He also got very spoiled from eating wet food with his medication (also contributing to his...growth...) so any time he hears dishes he thinks it's for him lmfao.

It's extra work because the others have excellent portion control on their own, but I love him and will make sure he's happy and healthy one way or another.

For reference, he was 3 months here, and severely underdeveloped. We never really figured out why because he was eating well. Then we had a nightmare vet that destroyed his guts with some questionable choices. No poop for days. Enemas, laxatives, etc. It got so scary that we were just a day or two away from him crashing completely. If you're familiar with Wisp the cat, it was not dissimilar to Wisp's situation for a while.

So after all of that, Haru was fighting a nasty infection he likely had THAT ENTIRE TIME so it had gotten particularly bad. His tummy also reacts poorly to antibiotics, so even after poop nightmares, the horrors persisted.

Only over the last few weeks have we gotten back on track so what I'm hoping is that over the next few months we reach a normal weight. There's also the chance he's just beefier than the others, which is certainly okay if his health isn't at risk. With regulated food and time he should grow into this weight and shed the excess pounds.

#pet illness #pet illness tw

[the-badger-mole]

Jukebox fics: "In Love with Your Soul", The Collection -- A:TLA preferably

In Love with Your Soul The Collection

This is going to be a pretty long synopsis, but I think this would end up being a pretty good sized story. After 25 years of marriage, Katara and Zuko find themselves adrift after their youngest leaves home for good. Two decades of parenting and building careers, they feel as if they are living with a stranger. Katara, only 49, still feels like there's more of life to experience. Zuko, on the other hand, is looking forward to his settled 50s. As they navigate their new normal, their drifting begins pulling them away from each other. Zuko is intimidated by the new friends his wife is making, while Katara is terrified that her once quietly passionate husband is becoming an old man before his time.

It all comes to a head when Katara is offered the chance of a lifetime to work in another country for a year. She's afraid to even bring it up to Zuko, but despite that, she starts making plans. It's mostly daydreaming at first. She looks up apartments, looks up the social life, and the local hotspots. She even contacts an old college friend who lives in the area, and makes plans to visit. The only problem is, this old friend is someone she used to date. Zuko sees Jet's name pop up in Katara's phone, and that coupled with how secretive she's been with her phone and computer leads him to the worst conclusion.

Without a word, he takes off, visiting places he and Katara used to love going to before work and family life consumed their couple life. He bounces between heartbroken rage and complete understanding as to why his vivacious wife might not find the prospect of being alone with him for another few decades tolerable. After a few days of being off the grid, he goes to a divorce lawyer, and at long last comes home with a separation agreement in hand. Katara, scared out of her mind and furious after not being able to reach her husband for days is shocked by the papers. That was not what she wanted, but then Zuko confronts her with his suspicions that she's having an affair, and declares he'd rather not have her than share her. That's when Katara comes clean about the job offer. She wasn't planning to take it, but she thought maybe she could at least convince Zuko to go travel with her to that country and explore a bit. She shows him the text messages, and her emails with her boss. She had asked for time to think, and time was winding down, but she assures Zuko that she knew how little he liked change, and moving to another country- even for a limited time- would be a massive change.

They have a long talk about their marriage and how disconnected from each other they feel, but in the end, they decided they're still in love enough to figure things out together. Then Zuko encourages her to take the position. As long as he's with her, he tells his wife, he'll feel at home.

And we will call this fic Our Rope is Braided

This song gave me very bittersweet, we've been together a long time, and our relationship has survived a lot (which is why I was a little confused when I saw someone say they wanted this song played at their wedding, but different interpretations for different folks). I wanted to come up with a concept that spoke to that. The thing is, I don't see Katara and Zuko having a ton of internal conflict in their relationship. I definitely don't think infidelity would be an issue. But what might be an issue is learning how to communicate after a massive change to their status quo. Katara's self-sacrificial nature would lead her to not talk about her goals and aspirations to her set-in-his-ways husband. Zuko might not know how to address his feelings of being left behind as Katara finds new social outlets, now that she's not a full time mother anymore, and this is what I came up with.

#atla #zutara #jukebox fic #ask the badger mole