#who invented weather anyway | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 5 months

Text

*SPOILER FIC FOR LOKI S2 FINALE*

Do not read until you have watched or are otherwise ready to be spoiled. THIS IS YOUR WARNING!

Idunn & The Golden Apple

In the village of Time’s Ridge, they say when a little girl is sacrificed, she is adopted by the gods and granted any wish she makes. When the orphan Idunn is driven over the side, she blinks and finds herself before a mysterious entity known as the God of Stories. Luckily, in order to gain his favor, she brings a small sacrifice of her own before his glowing throne.

Characters: Loki, OFC (child), cameos of Thor and Mobius Genre: Tragedy, Comfort, Found Family Word Count: 3.3k Content Warnings: SPOILERS FOR LOKI S2 FINALE!, Loki gives off dad vibes, child sacrifice

This time, the annual sacrifice at Time's Ridge was almost a scandal. Woeful Idunn was only ten-years-old.

She stood on the precipice, overlooking the glowing green abyss she’d once played beside thoughtlessly, unaware at the time that it was about to become her grave. Her thick red hair was woven into two braids, laced with daisy blossoms. Idunn was wearing a gray frock meant to symbolize her mortality and humility, she kept her hands in the pocket of her simple, tattered pinafore, her left hand curled around a small ball hidden away.

Instead of weeping like most sacrifices did, Idunn was choosing to go with at least a little dignity (not that anyone was there to be awed by her maturity--being an orphan, no one really cared how she looked anyway). Perhaps she wasn’t even all that upset about being picked by the Leader to die on behalf of Time’s Ridge. A less-brained individual might be flattered by being selected.

Of course, Idunn knew better. The only reason she was here was because no one would miss her.

The green glow of the bottomless pit was somewhat new, and that was when The Ritual began, some two generations before Idunn was born and left to die by a helpless mother. No explanation was given, but the green aura of the trench appeared, and suddenly: the perpetual storms plaguing the fields ceased. People stopped disappearing mysteriously…at least until things began getting worse again. Then, only a few years before Idunn was born, a child fell into the trench and disappeared, but time and the weather stabilized again, and so it was accepted that only the gift of a child’s wish brought personally to whatever god watched over Time’s Ridge, the sad little village at the end of the universe, would bring safety back.

It was always such an honor to be picked to die, until it was your turn. Then, if you were fortunate enough to have a parent of means, your only hope to live to see the following year was to have them bribe the Leader to pick someone else.

“Idunn, Blessed Daughter of Time’s Ridge!” The Leader began his ceremonial monologue, which was surprisingly ho-hum for being the prologue to child homicide. “Today, you are being sent into the Higher Worlds to seek out aid for our small community--”

I’m not waiting for this, the little girl thought. Let’s just get it over with. I have nothing to stay for. She covertly pulled the golden ball from her pocket and held it up, slowly turning before the crowd.

“May I eat before I jump?” she asked. Gasps rang out.

“Where did she get one of those?” someone called out.

The Leader smiled sadly, shaking his head. “You may, Little Idunn. Though I am not sure as to where you found one. But be aware, silly girl, even one of those won’t save your conscious life now.”

Idunn twisted her lip, looking at the golden apple in her hand, shrugging and taking a large bite. The taste was as if the Creators themselves invented the perfect sweet. The crisp skin snapped between her teeth, and the delicious juices felt almost like a cool, gentle tea rolling over her tongue.

I just hope the weird peddler who sold it to me was right, Idunn thought bravely, looking down at the apple as the bite mark she made instantly healed itself, creating a perfectly full piece once more.

A bolt of lightning broke overhead, causing the little girl to jump backwards, startled, her courage failing her for the first time.

“An honorable sacrifice should not be afraid of a little lightning,” mocked a cruel adolescent from the crowd.

Idunn looked back over her shoulder at her glowing tomb. “I’m not overly fond of what follows,” she replied, deciding to turn around, the juices and magic sugars from the golden apple beginning to fall into her stomach and move around inside, warming her core.

Work quickly, work quickly…come on…

She breathed in and raised her voice, which boomed many times larger than her petite body would suggest she could utter. “I hate you all, and I would live forever with no guilt at all if it meant each one of you got to fall into the pit in my place. I hope the timeline frays and swallows you all whole!”

The disapproving murmurs from her assembly of executions gave her a small pinch of satisfaction. One last victory for the condemned. She couldn’t delay it any more when the cruel Leader signaled for the pounding, rhythmic drums to sound.

Fine, even if this is it for me, I don’t want to be here anyway.

The only regret Idunn had in the moment before she fell forward into the abyss was that she was born in Time’s Ridge, a place so afraid of the shifts in time and space that were otherwise so natural around their realm that they would throw children off cliffs in order to make the gods happy.

Gods, Idunn thought. Good thing gods aren’t real.

Idunn decided not to give the Leader the satisfaction of reciting the poetic Final Prayer of the Sacrifice, and instead did a graceful twist of her small body, her red braids flying about her face and standing out even in the twilight suns, falling over with just enough time to wave goodbye to the village before meeting her fate at the bottom of a fraying timeline’s abyss.

The little girl felt the sensation of falling…more falling…even more…then a blinding green light followed by the feeling of being lifted by a thin arm or branch---

Gods aren’t real. Gods aren’t real. Gods aren’t real. Gods aren't--

Infinite branches of time, universes, were binding Loki to his throne amidst a sea of green matter and light, where he would be sitting until time itself decided to rip his duties from him and end existence.

That…that would be soon, right?

Worse than the eons that were beginning to pass before his eyes without him, promising adventures he would never have, romantic nights he would never see, were the whispers, the noises. Loki could hear every spoken voice in every timeline, but they were all a low, maddening hum that rang in his ears as he sat, legs apart, in his supernatural throne room, nothing but the years for company. Of course, the voices of those he knew in life were the loudest and hardest to hear.

And he was hungry. So. Damn. Hungry.

Even Gods needed to eat, but what was there to find in Loki’s palace of emerald and gold, buried underneath countless layers of timeline branches, ensnared in the prison of Yggdrasil? Loki couldn't die of starvation, but the hunger pangs would frequently send surges of pain through his core, out his arms, and as a result, a few timelines would flicker for a moment before regaining normalcy. It was likely these places would only see inclement weather or a few years of time skipped over as a result.

It was painful, but the only way Loki could check on his few allies was through the branches tying him to his noble seat. Sometimes, he would follow the sound of Mobius’ slow voice and find his favorite timeline: where Mobius was happy, retired, living with his adult sons and their spouses and children on a cabin by the beach (three jet skis and an ATV in the garage, of course).

He smiled as he saw OB’s TVA manuals and novels being stored away in a timeproof capsule for posterity, ensuring his legacy. The little man was never taller.

He’d even caught a glimpse of Thor from time to time, and Loki had spent countless hours following him from afar as he traveled with a small band of space brigands. He even managed a chuckle upon seeing what Thor was getting up to: “Father would be embarrassed…and that music is terrible.”

Not that it mattered.

He was forever burdened with glorious purpose, just as he’d prophesied as an arrogant youth. Now, I’m gloriously burdened, Loki thought. He nearly smirked at the poetic irony, or perhaps it was justice for his past transgressions that fit the same meter. A Loki with freedom would have enjoyed the twist for what it was.

A tear formed at the corner of his left eye at the thought. Forever. Here. No food or love or friendship to keep his heart from slowly eroding away with the millennia.

Suddenly, the branches around Loki’s wrists began shaking, writhing in his grip, as if a blustery wind disturbed them. He looked up, his eyes following one of the timelines furthest away from his immediate sight: a gray and lethargic piece of the Tree of Life. As the other tendrils of time began shaking furiously at some invisible disturbance, this branch suddenly exploded into a thread of white hot light before curling in on itself and returning to its original state.

Loki attempted to get to his feet, but he was still bound by the thousands of other timelines he protected. No matter, the odd shift in the air quickly subsided, at least until a brief ‘pop’ was audible from somewhere ahead of Loki’s line of vision, buried behind the twisting strings of time.

“Odd,” analyzed the God of Stories, “but amounting to nothing.”

Alas, he was wrong. For almost immediately after his declaration that the anomaly was of no concern: a small, high voice cooed from beyond the branches.

“H…hello?”

Loki felt his heart still, his skin cool, and a strange current in the air moved about the green chamber, rustling the hem of his cape where it met his boots. It was the first time since he took his place on the throne that it did so.

No, it’s a trick.

“HELLO?”

No one, no mortal could survive being here. It’s why it had to be me…

“Is there someone here?”

No, that’s certainly another’s voice.

Loki dared to hope after all this time. He opened his mouth to reply…but nothing fell out other than a few sharp notes and breath. Had it been so long since he’d used his vocal chords?

Out of the tangle of time streams before Loki, a diminutive, pale figure stumbled over herself, gripping something yet unseen in her hand, wearing a disgusting, dirty gray slip. A little girl, no older to existence than a spring lamb.

Norns, it’s a child!

“Is this heaven?” the little girl asked, brushing a fiery red braid from her shoulder and walking hesitantly into the throne room. “Or somewhere else?”

Loki’s mouth hung open, but his words still somehow failed him.

“Are you The Creator, or some God? Are you real? I didn’t think you would be. I guess I’m glad you are.”

The questions were pouring out of Idunn’s mouth so quickly that Loki was reminded of himself as a child, when he’d ask his mother one too many questions.

“Maybe I should--”

“Who are you?”

Idunn was so startled at the Green King’s first successful words to her, she leapt backwards, tumbling over a branch that her ankle met by accident. Loki nearly attempted to rise again.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m Idunn,” said the girl, regaining composure remarkably quickly.

“...Loki.”

A moment of awkward silence went by before Idunn took another step back toward the throne. “Are all those a part of you?” she asked, her thoughts as aimless and unorganized as any ten-year-old’s.

Loki looked up into the time vines, feeling smaller and more alone than ever in the surreal presence of this little creature who’d managed to survive an entrance into open time without being torn into tiny threads and scattered across space.

“I suppose they are.”

Idunn sighed, shrugging and positioning herself at his feet. “I didn’t know gods were real. I thought they were just an excuse to--”

“--oh, gods are real, little one--”

“--get rid of me.”

Loki fell silent again, this time stunned at the bluntness of the child, and the darkness of her admission.

“What kind of miniature sorceress are you, Miss Idunn?” he asked, his voice starting to lighten in an attempt to alleviate the child’s fears. “Your powers must be fearsome if you stand before me now fully intact.”

“I’m not a witch,” Idunn conceded. “They just chose me for the sacrifice this year, and I had something to help myself survive.”

Loki didn’t know what part of this distressing declaration to address first. “Sacrifice?”

Idunn nodded, looking about the branches above her head, pointing to the one that was still recovering from the intrusion. “Time’s Ridge. They call it The Village at the End of the Universe. They sacrifice a child every year to stop the storms.”

The God of Stories was aware of the histories of many of his burdensome tethers by now, but even Time’s Ridge was a mystery to him.

“Sacrifice?” he repeated as the oblivious blatherskite before him went on, her fears quickly alleviating into a more normal enthusiasm that suited a youth her age.

“Yes,” affirmed the girl, “but the night before they took me to the abyss, a strange man came by my cell window and offered me this.”

She showed Loki the golden apple, causing his jaw to drop again. The girl was unfamiliar, but the apple was unmistakably Asgardian. A rare delicacy, the Golden Apples of Asgard gave the Gods their eternal youth and immortality. Every god had a single one on their person, for sometimes one could find themselves pulling back from the edge of oblivion by virtue of one bite.

They were so rare because they were so difficult to cultivate. Any one mistake during the process would render the apples lethal to even the Allfather. The only grower Loki knew to be alive was an elderly Asgardian somewhere out in the cosmos. How he made his way to this little urchin teetering at the edge of everything and knew to offer her the last apple in existence, Loki couldn’t even guess.

“Did he say where he got that?” Loki’s eternal hunger suddenly caught up with him again upon seeing the golden apple in her small hand.

“No. All I can remember is that he was very strong and handsome for a peddler. Only other thing I can remember is that he was blonde. Oh, and he had a big hammer with him, too. I think he was looking for me directly, like he knew who needed this.”

Loki’s cold skin shot back into a warm heat that made two more tears stain his cheeks.

Idunn looked regretful. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to make you cry! Did you want a bite?”

Loki looked sadly off to his sides. “I cannot eat. I cannot let go of even a single one of these timelines, little one. I couldn’t hold an apple or a spoon.”

The child looked from Loki to the apple, and back. “So then I’ll help!” she said as simply as if it were the answer to 1 + 1.

Before the god could protest, or even ask, Idunn had taken it upon herself to climb Loki’s throne and sit in his lap, holding the unbitten apple before his lips. “Don’t you want--?”

Loki didn’t wait, his hunger overriding any sense of decorum, and accepted a large mouthful of fruit, almost unhinging his jaw like a snake to consume as much sustenance in a single crumb as he could. As a result, Loki had accounted for half of the apple with his bite. Idunn giggled at Loki’s accomplishment.

The food was not only the single most delicious morsel of food he’d ever consumed, but he felt it travel down to his stomach before warmly blossoming, artificially filling his stomach for the time being. The pains subsided almost immediately, and a surge of energy filled Loki’s veins.

Then, something remarkable happened that he didn’t expect. The timelines glowed gold instead of green for a moment, and each one that was even remotely loose or frayed was repaired and made stronger than it had been before. Small orbs of gold began appearing above their heads, looking as if golden apples were growing on the branches of the World Tree. Idunn gasped.

“Pretty!” she whispered. “I didn’t know these could do that!” she declared excitedly, looking down at the apple.

“Nor I,” said Loki, his gratefulness to the strange girl present in his tone. I wonder if this is affecting the beings within?

“Do you have children?” asked Idunn, suddenly. Loki shook his head, his large, horned diadem nearly whacking the girl off her perch.

“No. Do you have…parents?” he asked hesistantly in return.

“No. No one wanted me.”

Loki’s heart went out to the child. “I know the feeling.”

Idunn sighed. “Why do you think they picked me to jump at Time’s Ridge?”

Loki looked sadly down at the apple in Idunn’s fist, already repairing itself.

“I’m alone,” Idunn continued. “I had to come here in order to save everyone else while they move on with their lives without me. No family, no reason to expect to find one.”

Norns, am I looking into a mirror? Loki smiled, feeling an odd new sensation one could only describe as paternal. “Perhaps…when two unloved, unwanted people find each other, there’s a family to be found there, little one.”

Time passed, how much neither the entombed god nor the condemned child knew, but this was because neither cared. It was here that The God of Stories was able to share his own tales for the first time, and once he and Idunn moved past the initial shock of discovering one another here, in the darkest and least likely of places, his long stretches of details quickly became libraries’ worth.

Idunn may have been young, but her maturity was at least partially Asgardian. Loki suspected her heritage could have been closer to his own peoples’ than one would expect of one of the lowly residents of the edge of time. As such, Loki found his paternal instinct toward Idunn grow, and as infinite measures of time began to pass, he began encouraging her to eat and rest in between stories and songs. After all, she was only as immortal as the apples made her. She was not a god, nor a full Asgardian.

Before long, Loki felt compelled to say what had slowly begun to creep into his mind once she appeared: it’s so wonderful having someone to talk to.

Instead, he addressed what he least wanted to. “Idunn,” he said. “Unlike myself, you are free to leave here at any time.”

She sighed. “Are you tired of me now?”

He quickly denied her with a sad face and a headshake. “I suppose I just wanted to inform you that you could probably enter any one of these timelines and find a better world to live in than the one you knew…and the one that is here.”

Are you mad? thought Idunn. Why would I leave you, the first person to ever listen to me?

“No, I think I’ll stay here a while. You need someone to help you eat, and I need…”

Loki smiled and completed her thought. “...a glorious purpose?”

“Exactly.”

She nodded. “As long as I have this, and as long as you won’t tell me to jump off a ridge, then I will be here for you, King Loki.”

“Sweet daughter Idunn,” Loki whispered in relief, “just know one final thing: please don't call me King Loki.”

Idunn giggled and threw her arms around Loki’s shoulders in an embrace of perfect love and trust. For the moments she couldn’t see his face, Loki allowed the tears to fall freely.

Thus, the Goddess of Youth took her place alongside the God of Stories, giving him the strength and companionship he needed to hold reality aloft on his shoulders for however long the whims of fate would have him there.

For as long as she stayed there, Loki never knew loneliness again.

Yeah, this fic is basically "a wild daughter appears!" like Thor: L&T was for Thor, but Loki just can't and shouldn't be alone on top of the multiverse like that. Come on, y'all.

MY MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @acidcasualties @coldnique @fictive-sl0th @gigglingtiggerv2 @gruftiela @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @itsybitchylittlewitchy @joyful-enchantress @loopsisloops @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @michelleleewise @mischief2sarawr @peachyjinx @anukulee @queen-chaos-of-hell @purplegrrl27 @ozymdias @smolvenger @mrs-illyrian-baby

219 notes · View notes

secretsofblackthornhall · 2 years

Text

Emma to Cristina

Dear Cristina!

Sorry to startle you, I just wrote “Dear Cristina” with the comma first and it seemed a little down. Thought I would try to spice it up a little. And I want to hear from you because I miss you and it’s highly annoying that you couldn’t be in New York.

Why did Nene have to pick this exact time to visit you guys? Is it because she has faerie intuition and carefully decided to keep us apart? I mean, no, probably not, she seems like a pretty good person. But still! Show up a week later, Nene! Also disappointed to hear that she didn’t spill anything about what the heck is up in the Seelie Court. I guess if she had given up the court’s secrets to Kieran — who is, technically, the King of the Unseelie Court — the Seelie Queen would consider that “bad” and Nene to be a “traitor,” but that’s nothing compared to how much we want to know what’s up.

Anyway. We’re back from New York, where the weather was much worse than in London, but whatever. We’d sent that picture of the candlesticks from the church to Alec, and he showed them to his mom, who recognized them. She said Robert had brought them along with a bunch of other inherited Lightwood stuff when they left Idris for NYC, and she had no idea what had happened to them since, but they were probably in the NY Institute somewhere. Well, we’ve got the Ghost Sensor, so we said goodbye to Rupert and headed over. (Julian wondered whether Rupert misses us when we’re gone, but it’s hard to tell if ghosts can tell the passage of time. In any case we didn’t find sad faces drawn in the dust when we came back, or anything like that.)

So we saw Jace and Clary, of course, and Alec came to help. I think he was really curious since it’s his family’s stuff. (We were hoping to see Simon and Isabelle but they were off recruiting for Shadowhunter Academy. And Magnus stayed home with the kids. He texted us a video from their apartment where he asked Max and Rafe, “Are we going to help our friends?” and they both shouted, “No!” It was cute. I mean, Max and Rafe were cute. Magnus was maybe milking it a little.)

Finding the candlesticks was…pretty easy, actually, kind of anticlimactic. They were hiding in plain sight in the church’s nave among all the other candlesticks and candelabras and other candle-related things. And the Sensor led us right to them. So maybe they weren’t removed in the Blitz but instead the Lightwoods took them back? Or maybe they were removed and then brought back and sometime after that Robert’s parents took them out of the church? We’ll probably never know, but it also probably doesn’t matter since, whatever, we have them, mystery solved.

In celebration we ordered a pizza and ate it by the light of the candlesticks. New York pizza! It is the best. It hurts to say that a little, as an LA girl, but the truth is the truth. I’d missed it so. Pizza in London is…well, best not to speak of it.

So while we were eating Jace asked Alec if there was any news from Idris, and Julian and I kind of looked at each other because there’s never news from Idris, the Cohort have all shut themselves in there and refuse to come out or let anyone in, you know the deal.

Alec revealed that they had been working on some new variation on fire-messages that would be able to get through the wards around Idris. Mostly using Clary’s power to invent new runes. They’ve been sending them for a while, trying different things, but hadn’t gotten any responses until very recently when they heard from one of my least favorite people, Manuel.

So Alec and Manuel have apparently been sending messages back and forth. Zara refuses to respond and Manuel implied that she didn’t like that he and Alec were talking. Alec thinks he might be lying and Zara might not even know. But Alec also thinks Manuel is tired of being stuck there and might be their way in, since (as we all know) Manuel cares about Manuel above everything else, certainly way more than he cares about the Cohort’s supposed mission. Like Jace said, Zara is a true believer, but Manuel is just an opportunist.

This was all super-interesting, of course, but Julian and I started to feel bad remembering that Alec is, you know, the Consul. Julian said he knew Alec had important Consul stuff to do and it was great that he had come to help find the candlesticks anyway. And then Alec said a really nice thing! He said that their New York crew had always had to work in secret, that they’d always thought of the Clave as the enemy. Well, maybe not the enemy, but not their ally. The Clave they grew up with, you know, locked Jace in the Silent City and refused to believe that Valentine was returning. They would never have thought of going to them for help. So Alec said it was really important to him as Consul to actually be there for the Shadowhunters, to be someone they could know and talk to and bring problems to, rather than hiding. And I guess we did know Alec personally before, and they are his family’s candlesticks, but still, it was nice that he thought of it as part of his Consul duties to help us out, rather than thinking of it as something taking time away from his Real Work. He said this was his Real Work, and we’d better not stop coming to him and Magnus for help.

So then after a while Clary announced that she and I needed to have some girl talk and whisked me off to Taki’s for coffee. Julian she left with Jace and Alec. When last I saw him Jace was guiding him towards the weapons room to take a look at the collection of 17th-century Spanish military swords he’d recently found in one of the church weapons caches somewhere in New York. Julian watched me leave like a puppy being taken to the vet for shots, but I think he had a good time. So he says, anyway.

Clary and I settled into a booth at Taki’s. She wanted to ask me how I was doing, and I started telling her, but she seemed distracted, and I realized that maybe she needed to talk to me about how she was doing. Which turned out to be true. She’s worried because Alec likes to believe the best of people, and he’s really optimistic about the progress they’ve made getting in touch with Manuel, but Clary thinks Zara is a manipulative psycho. On which topic we agree.

“You think it’s a trick?” I said. “Or a trap?”

She said she didn’t know. But then she kind of argued with herself and said she understood how important it was to open up Idris, that she knew the Clave couldn’t survive forever split in two like this.

I said it seemed like it was really weighing heavily on them, and she kind of sighed and gave me the big news, or rather the lack of big news, which is that she and Jace have decided they don’t want to get married until the Clave is reunited. And Simon and Isabelle feel the same way.

“It’s not like there’s any reason to rush,” she said. She was looking out the window as she said it, though, and she sounded kind of sad. “But we don’t want a wedding where all anyone is thinking about is how Idris is off-limits and the Clave is broken.”

She kept looking out the window, so I asked if she saw someone out there, and she kind of looked guilty and turned back to me. “Oh, no, I thought I saw Jace for a minute, but it wasn’t him.”

Finally we got around to how I’m doing and I got to tell her the thing I’m worried about, which you and I have talked about a little. Which is that Julian and I are fixing up this house and I guess…we’re going to move here? Like, move to London. And out of Los Angeles for good. And I haven’t really gotten to think about what that would be like. I was thinking of it as a kind of temporary thing where we would fix up the house and then go home. And it’s easy to feel that way because of all the stuff going on with the Clave.

But for Julian, this will be our new home. And I can’t blame him for wanting that. I mean, for one thing, he’s a Blackthorn and it’s Blackthorn Hall. But we grew up in Los Angeles. I’m an LA girl, all my memories of my parents are of them in Los Angeles. But then we both do have many hard memories from the LA Institute, and it would be nice to put them behind us and get a fresh start. I don’t know. Do you ever find it strange, that you live in New York now? And Faerie? Do you miss the D.F.?

Maybe it’s Idris being out of reach that makes it feel so strange. I grew up always knowing that however spread out the Shadowhunters might be we all had a home together in Idris. It held the Clave together all over the world. But what if Idris is really gone for us, Cristina?

What if it’s gone forever?

Xoxox

Emma

#sobh #secrets of blackthorn hall #emma carstairs #julian blackthorn #clary fairchild #taki's diner #the clave #cristina rosales #blackstairs

4K notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 1 year

Text

[squints at the MCU] Tony Stark has displayed more ability to weather interrogation and torture than Steve Rogers.

This is "(displayed more)(ability)," not "(displayed)(more ability)," to be clear.

(I know fiction’s depiction of torture is famously propagandafied, but in this case, it’s not about torture for information so much as physical traumas shown on screen.)

(Anyway, have a rant I did on discord the other day.)

It's not really so much about "resisted the urge to hand over information" as "survived a truly harrowing experience and still came out of it trying to do good."

Tony's very first movie involves getting repeatedly drowned while in constant pain from bomb injuries as a civilian contractor, and I… don't think I can remember anything even a little similar with Steve

I don't think he's ever been captured for long before breaking out? All his injuries are in active battle, not torture.

Like... Steve went through something horrible with the ice and losing Bucky, nobody can argue that. But I think it's very telling, sometimes, that movie Steve, especially 2012 movie Steve, is completely unaware of the absolute nightmare that Tony experienced in his solo movies.

I have so many feelings about Tony Stark being the epitome of "guy who was raised and manipulated into being a bad person by someone he trusted, and (after a horrible experience) attempts to be a better person, constantly and consistently, even if he sometimes fucks up in the execution."

And the way that some fics elide his experiences in cleaning up other people's messes (first Obadiah's, then Howard's) and how that doubtlessly compounded his many neuroses from fixing messes that he did actually create himself is just

I have a lot of feelings

And am also feeling a little bitter and salty about how Tony Stark's MCU incarnation reportedly took some inspo from Elon Musk... and a little petty and satisfied about just how drastically we've all be shown that Musk can never live up to the idea of 'billionaire with inherited wealth who actually, without hesitation, risks his own life to save millions' that he tried to use PR to achieve in the media with 'my electric cars are gonna save the world' stunts about things he didn't actually have a hand in inventing

I'm just reading some fics I really enjoyed when I was still in the YA fandom, and there was a reference to a line Steve said in the movies and I started thinking (again) about how frequently fans take lines from Steve or Sam about Tony as gospel, because they haven't seen Tony's movies, and the lines from the star spangled boys are contextually meant to show that they don't know jackshit about Tony or his life, because they are directly contradicted by multiple prior films.

Also like... how often Steve's traumas get explored (in fic) in a way that Tony's just... don't? At most, his issues about Howard get explored, but that's it.

There's this moment in CACW that people take as Accurate and it infuriates me.

Tony Stark: [Back in the cell.] Just look. Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes. [He shows a holographic image of Doctor Broussard.] Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong. Sam Wilson: That's a first.

Which, like... it's a bad movie. Obviously. But also

That line is immediately followed by Tony revealing that he's here to help the others and is sabotaging the security to make sure Ross can't take advantage, and yet fanfic still uses Sam's quote to promote anti-Tony agendas!

And 'Tony admits he fucked up' is. Like. Listen to me

Tony's first solo movie is fixing Obadiah's machinations. *

His second solo movie is fixing his Dad's fuckup.

His first team movie is fixing Thor's mistakes.

His third solo movie is fixing something that is only tangentially his fault.

It's not until AoU that the fuck-up is really his and his alone (well, not counting Bruce), and even then, even then, a massive portion of the blame is narratively laid at Wanda's feet!

And only then do we get this man, who has spent five movies seeing what happens when people don't take responsibility for their actions, or have anyone riding them to be ethical, who has criticized himself for neither having that oversight nor providing that oversight for people who snuck shit under his nose, that is when we get Tony weighing in on the side of "most countries on the planet are agreeing with this and it's for a reason, please work with me here, maybe we can get some of it rolled back to be less authoritarian and more reasonable."

* and removing himself from the military industrial complex he was raised and groomed to be in, but that's a system and not an individual act or a set 'villain'

Or as @firebirdeternal put it:

I would say that his first solo movie does have a large element of fixing his own mistakes too, it's just that his "mistake" was Trusting the Wrong Person and not taking personal responsibility for how his actions are affecting the world. (Which, he immediately does upon coming back from being captured? "We're going to immediately stop making weapons, because it's making the world worse" and then when Obadiah cuts him out of the company he goes "Oh. Okay no that didn't work, have to personally fix all this then.") and yeah it's just Tony have plenty of reasons to be on the side of "Someone needs to have oversight over this"

IM1 is such a good exploration of someone in privilege saying "this stops now" in a situation where they do have control because they have been confronted with their mistakes in a way that's unavoidable

It's also like, a great example of the fantasy of the Super Hero. Because Tony Stark, the businessman, even with all his wealth and knowledge, isn't able to stop the systemic harm being caused by His Own Company. One person isn't able to do that, even with the best of intentions. It isn't until he becomes something else, something more, a Super Hero, that he's able to make any kind of meaningful change on his own. Like IM1 is just a phenomenal movie. It understood it's subject material so incredibly well.

And people skip it and then take Steve and Sam at their word about Tony's strength of character and moral convictions and I scream.

THIS MAN FLEW A NUKE INTO A WORMHOLE WITH THE FULL EXPECTATION THAT HE WAS GOING TO DIE

Yeah, like, that Jump on the Grenade mentality is something that he and Steve actually literally share.

They both had 'jump on the explosive to save people' moments in their introductory movies.

I find so much more strength and inspiration in stories like Thor and Tony, where they are inherently fuck-ups and were shitty people and they are trying so damn hard to be better, which is more Tony than Thor really, but both of them and their first movies are just. I find that more inspiring than Steve or T'Challa or any other hero who was already a good person and just Became Great.

Tell me about the person who has to struggle to find that moral choice. Tell me about Natasha dragging herself from her oceans of blood and Tony fighting the government over whether they have the rights to use weapons he's created and about Thor having to reckon with his family's power being born of imperialistic ravaging of other cultures.

I want to hear about the people for whom being good is hard and a choice they don't have to make, but then they make it anyway.

Also I stand by "I am Iron Man. [infinity snap]" being the most amazing bookend the MCU could have done and probably the best part of the Endgame.

#Tony Stark #character analysis #phoenix talks #MCU #Iron Man Movies #Iron Man #Avengers #AoU #CACW #AEG #torture mention

620 notes · View notes

robin-the-enby · 2 months

Note

Hi! Can I get an angst/comfort fic of Arthur with a female s/o who is depressed and suicidal? Like he walks in on his s/o c*tting while having a mental breakdown? Or he just notices the cuts/scars? Or he walks in on his s/o bl33ding out?? Idk you can get creative with it I’ve just been having an extremely rough couple months. If this makes you uncomfortable then you can just ignore this request, but thanks anyways! I hope you have a great day/night!! <3

It's my problem if I feel the need to hide

Pairing: Arthur x f!reader

Summary: You feel under the weather, but decide not to tell anyone. As your condition only worsens, your friends start to worry about you. It's when you decide to let everything go your knight with blue eyes and a cheeky smile comes to the rescue.

Warnings: depression, suicidal ideation, not being able to care for oneself (containing lack of hygiene and proper meals), mentions of vomit(ing) (3), negative self talk, dark thoughts

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay of this fic, I hope it will be of use to you still. I haven't written for this fandom in a long while, so getting back to it was a little hard, though I enjoyed it none the less. I tried not to use any (Y/N)s and make it as racially neutral as possible, as well as appearance-neutral (Arthur carries reader 1 time, but he's stronger than a regular human, and y'all deserve it ladies, no matter your size). If anyone wants to talk about anything at all, my dms are open, as well as my ask box. Take care of yourselves and stay safe!

The human mind is possibly nature's greatest invention. The complexity with which all its components interact to keep the body functioning is nothing short of phenomenal. And not only that, but it is aware of itself, encasing its own conscience inside a safe vessel, built and evolved specifically to protect it. And as time progressed, and all the basic needs of the body were cared for, there came a need to create. The body could easily be fed, but the conscience needed a different type of sustenance.

The human mind is capable of incredible things. It can set goals for itself as well as achieve them. It shaped the entire world to its liking, for better or for worse. The human mind is the reason why we live the lives we do today. It is the thing that keeps us alive and sane.

It's funny how drastically that can change.

If you'd ask any of the men residing in the mansion on who the worst enemy of humans is, you're sure all of them would at least mention the human conscience, if not directly choose it. After all, their lives have been woven through with the thread of sorrow, the perpetrator being none other than the human mind- theirs or someone else's.

At this point, you feel like you've at least got a peek at the complex inner worlds of history's greatest minds. Some you knew better than others, but you've been le Comte's servant for long enough to consider all the mansion's residents at least friends.

It was evident to anyone who has been in the mansion for at least a month that all of the people (and vampires) residing in it had some sort of baggage, wearing them down even in their second undead life. Some were better at hiding it than others, some just felt more comfortable keeping their troubles to themselves, while others' emotions and traumas were sometimes too great, too overwhelming to be kept locked inside their bodies.

You've tried your best to help those who needed it, both physically and mentally. It helped a few to open up to you at least a little and as time went on, with your hard work, you've earned respect for yourself even amongst the toughest nuts in the mansion. Poking through others' personal affairs and traumas carried along numerous fights as well as apologies and in the end just served to strengthen the bond between you and the residents. And yet, at times like these...you couldn' help but feel alone.

Like all the others, you had to shoulder the burden of traumas, insecurities and unpleasant experiences collected unwillingly throughout your life. You suspected the others knew of this, or at least had a hunch that you, like all of them, haven't had the pleasure of living a carefree life.

They saw you as an independent, strong and courageous woman, resilient and kind in any situation. And if you were in the right state of mind, you would agree. But lately, you began to doubt these traits of yours, the ones you valued so much and were valued for.

You weren't a stranger to struggling and you knew that anyone in need of help deserved to receive it and should not be scared to ask for it.

So why did the thought of asking for help make your stomach churn?

You've been pondering that question for a few days now. Lately, your entire reality seemed to have shifted. At first, you didn't think anything was wrong, a simple bad day, or a bad week wasn't anything to be too worried about. Nothing a nice, relaxing weekend couldn't fix, right? And yet, when you had tasks to complete, you felt agitated and annoyed, but when you had nothing to do, you were antsy and restless. Always feeling like something should be happening, like you should be doing something. For some reason, you couldn't make yourself to do the things you felt you should be doing.

Soon everything has become a bother. Tasks you could usually do with one hand were suddenly so hard that by the end of the day, the thought of bathing or changing into clean clothes made you want to scream until your throat was sore. And so you chipped away at your routine that you so painstainkingly built when you appeared in this time, until the only remaining activities in your days were your work and some basic necessities.

You knew it was getting bad. And it constantly created an almost numbing whirlwind of emotions you really didn't need right now. Why was this happening? What brought it on? Why now?? Is it going to get worse? All these questions and none you had an answer to. You had guesses and various techniques you learnt here and there back in your time, but...you couldn't bring yourself to do anything.

You were trapped. At least it felt like it. Trapped inside yourself, inside your mind. You knew you should tell someone, that if you let it go on, it would sooner or later consume you. But you couldn't do anything. It was as if your body didn't listen to you.

It seemed the residents were starting to get suspicious of your strange mood as of late. There were times when one of them would approach you and carefully ask about your wellbeing, and as much as you wanted to say something, you never did. You logically knew that the first step would be the one to break through the loop, the one that would make all the others just a little bit easier until you felt normal again. But anytime you tried to break through the selfdestructive habits you had fallen into, a wave of such tirednes, nausea and shame overcame you, that you simply caved to your mind's twisted whispers.

You concluded that your best option at this moment was to lay low and let it pass. Your days have become a steady routine of wake up, work, go to bed. And repeat. It was manageable, at first, even with the onslaught of thoughts your mind was conjuring, managing to come up with more and more ways to taunt you with. But as days and then weeks passed, your energy slowly seeped away from your body and it retaliated by shutting off and out anything unnecessary to save as much of what was remaining.

These things included mostly socialising. You became less talkative, while you would usually enthusiastically engage in conversations, if not outright start them, lately you would not speak unles directly spoken to. It has taken a toll on your concentration as well. Many times when someone would try to strike up a conversation with you, they'd have to repeat their question or even call out your name mid-conversation, because mentally you just weren't there. These things not only started to worry Sebastian, your biggest constant in your new life, given that you worked alongside him every day, but also the other residents. You knew of this, as out of it as you might have seemed and/or have been these past few weeks, you knew that they noticed, because you knew them. But what started as a simple snowball had alrady turned into an avalanche and you had to admit that you were no longer in control.

Not that you really cared. You knew you should care, should be trying harder than ever to break out of this spell, but you couldn't. And every time you might have felt strong enough to confess how you were feeling, to lean on someone, to get the help you knew you needed, a sudden pang of fear pierced your chest and you shrivelled back, back into your own small shell that was your skull.

Trying to find a reason for this foolish anxiety proved not so easy, when your mind would make up about five reasons why you should keep your mouth shut every time you even dared to ask yourself such a question.

What if they didn't believe you?

What if it wasn't not that bad?

What if you were just making it up? Making it seem bigger than it is?

These people have gone through so much. They've seen war, witnessed and felt abuse and probably had been through things you couldn't even imagine. Why should they help you, when they're the ones who needed help?

You were not worthy.

Such comparisons were something you chastised anyone who would confess experiencing them for. And yet, when it came to you, it felt like a holy truth. Something that could not and should not be questioned. Because you don't want to be selfish, do you?

You've dealt with this by yourself before, surely you could do it again and not drag down others with you. These and many others became your daily mantras. Lay low, hide, be small, don't make a noise. Survive. But was that really how you wanted to live? If you could even call that a living. You were surviving, yes, but at what cost? For a promise of a period of time where you wouldn't feel like the world is made out of cardboard? A period of time where you wouldn't feel like screaming and crying every second of every day? And how long would that last? A few months, a year maybe? Was it really worth the struggle?

You blinked yourself out of your thoughts when someone vigorously snapped in front of your eyes. Looking around in slight daze, your eyes fall upon a smiling face. "There you are! Theo says he's just waiting for you to walk face first into a wall!" Arthur says cheerily, showing you his signature smirk. "I, like the good friend I am, keep defending you of course. But it's hard when your mind seems to get further and further away from us every day. At this rate, you'll wander off into Seine soon. And we wouldn't want that, would we?" he playfully jabbed at you.

You could feel yourself shaking your head, but the only thing you could focus on was how nice it acually seemed, the cold water seeping through clothes and circling your limbs, the undercurrents keeping you down, where nothing could get you, laying you down onto the riverbed, weighed by the water in your lungs... "So, what's going on in that noggin of yours, hm?"

Arthur was, besides Sebastian, the closest person to you out of all the others. You enjoyed his easygoing demeanor and his jokes never failed to make you laugh. He was a terrible flirt though, and someties could be pretty pushy with his advances as you've realised over the time you two spent together. Luckilly, after a firm conversation backed up by Theo, he had calmed down significantly towards you. The writer still heavily complimented you, always putting that silver tongue of his to use, but you thought nothing of it. He was like that with everyone, even some of the other residents, so the possibility of it ever meaning anything more than banter or a simple compliment never even crossed your mind.

"You're doing it again." the man in question sighed. You blinked at him with confusion. As if reading your thoughts, Arthur clarified "You're in your head again. It must be something really interesting in there to make you so distracted." he joked again, but his expression turned serious "But honestly, what's going on? You haven't been yourself for quite a while now and everyone's getting worried. Even Wolf asked me if I knew what was up with you the other day!" the writer looked at you intently "You know that we're here for you, right? Even if you feel like it's stupid, if you need anything, you can tell us."

You averted your eyes from Arthur' piercing gaze. You knew his words were sincere and it made your chest squeeze uncomfortably. Looking straight ahead, in the direction which you were going, you answered, trying to make your voice as leveled as you could "Thank you for worrying Arthur, but I'm alright, really. I've been thinking of asking le Comte for a break. It would be nice to have some off time." This wasn't a complete lie, since having some down time, where you could pretend time has stopped really did sound appealing, but now you'd have to actually go and ask the good count, which you really didn't want to. Not because you were worried you wouldn't be given a break, but because it was another plan to be made and you barely had enough energy to last you until the end of the day, much less go somewhere out of your own volition.

Arthur knew that you were lying, or at least not telling him everything, so he grinned at you again and spoke confidently "Alright, love, the game is on! I gave you a chance to explain youself, but it seems I'll have to solve this mystery myself." he winked at you and you expected him to take his leave. But Arthur softly grabbed your arm and stopped you in the middle of the halway you were in. Turning to face him in his hold you looked at him questioningly. His smile is much softer now, and if you could focus properly, you would see worry glinting in his eyes "If you ever change your mind, you can stop by. Day, night, doen't matter. We're here for you, love. I'm here for you. Just as much as you're here for us." and as soon as he finished speakig, he was gone. Down the hallway, in the direction of his room. You quietly turned around, trying to process the strange encounter while you went your way.

Your mind was surprisingly quiet for a few hours after that.

You eventually did end up in le Comte's study. Nerves were wracking your body and mind the entire day and when you finally did enter the dreaded room, after all your chores were done for the day, you felt like you would start crying at any moment. For some reason, you felt awful for doing this. You didn't need the break. You didn't need off time to get better physically or because you had too many chores. Why did you want a break, besides Arthur catching on that there was, indeed, something wrong? The only thing you had planned for this break of yours was rotting away in your bed and doing as little as humanely possible. Maybe fate would be so kind and take you away in your sleep. Let you wither away like an overwatered flower.

You tried to make the discussion as quick as possible. Fortunately, the count didn't ask too many questions about your wellbeing and the reason for taking a break, remembering well that you haven't had one in a good while. He did ask if you consulted Sebas about it and you forced down a shudder at the mention of your good friend's name. Not because the butler was opposed to you taking a break, he actually kindly insisted you take one, revealing that he also noticed your mental absence in the past weeks, which could be almost counted as a month now. The worry and confusion in his tone as well as his expression made you wish he told you to stay, to help him, anything to try and convince you to not do what you were about to.

Why were you so worried? There wasn't a reason you should feel bad about taking a break. Even if you physically were just as spry as a grasshopper, taking a break for the sake of mental health was just as important. But deep down, you coudn't lie to yourself. Deep down you knew you were going to give up completely. Either for someone to find you, or to be left to rot. And right now, you hoped for the latter, even if it was still scary to admit.

After Comte gave you a week off, asking if it was enough time for you, which you hastily confirmed, feeling bile rise up your throat and wishing for the comfines of your room, your shaky legs and hazy mind managed to carry you to your room. After spending some time emptying the contents of your stomach, which were absolutely too small you would bet, you nothing but collapsed onto your bed. Mouth unrinsed, hair oily and ruffled, it had finally dawned on you how much of a mess you must have loked like. This realisation finally seemed to open the dam that was holding back everything you were feeling. The disgust, the shame, the fear, the anxiety the heavines, the loneliness, but most importnatly the longing.

Fast, salty tears carried all of that out of your body, leaving your face a puffy, sticky mess. Suddenly, you felt rage boil inside of your chest, sprading quickly to your head. Why didn't you say anything? You were so worried and because of what? Your own mind? Could you be any more stupid? The very same mind that put you through absolute hell this past month was now angry at itself, at its own actions. Why did the world have to be this cruel? Why couldn't it grant you the simple request of a mind that would not try to sabotage itself? And now it was too late.

Yo chose this, you thought to yourself. You chose this and these were the consequences of your actions. As if the tears have released all your pent up frustration in your body, all that it left was numbness. A kind of numbness that made your eyelids heavy, making them gravitate towards each other and pulling you into a deep, calm slumber. The kind of slumber you have not been able to achieve for more than the month you've been actively suffering. But also the kind of slumber that would not bring you closer to salvation.

You woke up, not knowing the time and not really finding yourself caring either. You felt strangely...calm. There was no hunger, no thirst, nothing. Only suffocating quiet, the likes of which you would feel in the deep blue of the ocean. You laid stil for what felt like hours, but could have also been minutes, before you succumbed to unconsciousness again.

This has gone on for a few days of your week long break. At one point you felt the pang of hunger, yet you had no will to satiate it. You only rose from your bed late into the night, when the squeezing walls of your stomach, at this point surely eating itself, threatened to spill nothing but its own acid. You tiptoed as quietly as your stiff muscles could into the kitchen, and after munching on some bread and water, because even though you got up, you still didn't feel like cooking, or that you deserved anything more than the simplest of dishes, you quietly stalked the halls back into your room. You fell asleep again, your stomach satisfied, or maybe convinced into satisfaction by your mind, the last thing you heard was the faint sound of Mozart's piano in the dead of the night.

This cycle had repeated for another few days. Your days were interrupted by quiet knocking that would wake you from your slow decline, and sometimes joined by murmurs behind the door. You couldn't find it in you to care. The door wasn't locked. At one point, you could swear you saw a shadow in your window, but it was gone too soon for your slowed mind to focus on it.

One morning, somewhere at the end of your break, not that you were keeping track of time, your door opened. A gust of fresh air was the first thing that barged its way into your room, chasing out the old and musty, albeit warm air from it. You shivered and wiggled deeper under your covers, grumbling hoarsely in protest. Your half asleep mind registered someone slowly walking into your room, as if they were scared to find out what was in it. You kept your eyes closed.

Arthur knelt down beside your bed, looking at your sickly, worn out face. Carefully sneaking his arm under your blanket, his hand searched for yours until it could take it into its own. Caressing your knuckles with his thumb, he cooed softly "Oh, love. I am so sorry. I am so sorry we let this get so far." You didn't respond. What was there to say? "It isn't your fault" you croaked out quietly, not having enough energy to say it loudly and fearing your voice wouldn't work.

"Why did you hide from us? We would've helped..." the writer almost whined, and you could feel the guilt and worry radiating from him. You wanted so desperately to answer, to give him a good reason for how foolish you were acting, but you couldn't. There was nothing that would excuse you. Nothing.

Seeing your slightly open eyes well up with tears, Arthur rushed closer to comfort you. Shushing and soothing you like a small child after a booster shot, he held you close and you tried not to weep hader. "It's alright, love, everything is alright. I've got you. I've got you now, it's good. You're alright."

After you calmed down slightly, you wanted nothing more than to shoo him away, close yourself off again an bury yourself into your bed to get away from the immense shame you felt. But Arthur seemed to be having none of that. He softly but insistently reached under you and helped you sit up with one arm, holding your hand with the other still. you couldn't bring yourslf to look him in the eye and yet his tone never changed from the soft lull he comforted you with. "Come on now, darling. Let's get you cleaned up."

Your mind wanted desperately to push back at him, scream and yell and fight, but you almost limply let him straighten you up and help you walk over to the bathroom. The writer's heart nearly broke in two as he saw you in the same clothes you were in when he last spoke to you. The image of you suffering in silence for so long made him nearly tear up as well, but he held himself back, focusing on you being his biggest priority.

He ran a bath for you, helped you out of your clothes, his gaze never cascading from your face, looking for any signs of overstepping any boundaries and when he found none, he helped you into the bathtub, first washing your hair and then your body, asking if you could and wanted to handle your private parts yourself. You whispered out a small yes, feeling somewhat ashamed still and wanting to make his efforts a bit easier. Letting you soak in the blissfully warm water, a question appeared in your mind "Arthur..." you called out quietly "Were you the one knocking at my door?" you asked timidly, not knowing fully if it wasn't some kind of delirium your mind put you through. The writer's face became solemn as you took a peek at his face and he spoke, his words and tone equally heavy "Everyone did. We were worried about you. After we heard about your break, we thought it might do you well. Everyone noticed that you weren't quite yourself. But after the first few days, when no one ever saw you leave the mansion, let alone your room, our worries doubled. Wolf said he noticed you walking to the kitchen at night, but Sebas only noticed small portions of bread disappearing from the kitchen, so we wanted to check up on you. We tried knocking at your door, not wanting to disturb you if you really were physically ill, but that didn't do anything." "And the window?" you interrupted him, casting your eyes downward again at the rude gesture. But Arthur continued, with no offense taken "That was Dazai. He was checking up on you a lot. In his own way." Arthur smiled sadly "Today, I had enough. Something was telling me you needed help. And I'm glad I listened to my instinct." he smiled at you and you felt your dry lips lift up ever so slightly. You were found when you needed it the most, it seemed.

After Arthur dried you off and helped you put on fresh clothes, he told you Sebas made a nutritious meal for you that wouldn't upset your stomach. He also suggested it would do you good to get out of your room for at least a little while and eat it in the kitchen. Seeing the panic in your eyes, he rushed to assure you "You don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to." And so you nodded.

The mansion seemed awfully quiet. There was no one in the halls, no sounds from either corner of the building. On your slow trek to the kitchen, you passed Mozart. The musician didn't say anything, but his lips melted from their usual stern frown to a warm smile and you couldn't help but to start crying again. Athur sat down with you on the cold ground of the hallway, pulling you onto his lap and rocking you back and forth until you felt good enough to walk again. Mozart was nowhere in sight.

You found out that Sebas made you a delicious soup, one with enough vegetables and some meat, the broth strong enough to get you up on your feet in no time. You ate slowly and savoured every spoonful. You suddenly realised how much you've missed eating good food. After your meal was done and Arthur washed your bowl and spoon in silence, he slowly sat down next to you. "How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, knowing that you were nowhere near out of the deep end yet, but desperately hoping his efforts weren't for naught. "Better. Fuller." you answered simply. After another beat of comfortable silence, where you soaked up the sun pouring in through the windows, the writer asked again "Would you like to go back to your room?" You pursed your lips. Suddenly, the idea of your bed and the stuffy room you hid yourself away in sounded horrible. But he comfortable, fluffy clothes and full stomach were pullig at your eyelids again, sleep threatening to take over. "My room it is, then?"

Arthur piped up and you nodded. Before you knew it, you were scooped up bridal style by the vampire, feeling his soft lips on your hairline "Rest, love. I've got you." Soon, you were in a room that smelled of coffe and cologne with a hint of ink. Once again, you wriggled under the covers, these ones feeling much fresher than yours, as you succumbed to sleep once again. But this time, you weren't alone.

#requested #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp arthur x reader #ikevamp arthur x you #x reader #tw depression #tw suicidality #fem!reader #hurt/comfort #tw emetophobia

66 notes · View notes

heli-writes · 6 months

Text

Seven summers, part 3.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!reader

Summary: Every summer, Draco and y/n meet. First, by pure coincidence, then intentionally. Unbeknown to Draco, y/n's a muggle who has no clue he's a wizard. With the rise of the dark lord, how long can this go well?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dearest y/n,

School's incredibly boring. The only fun thing going on is that tournament. I do love seeing Harry Potter struggle. He totally deserves to have to fight that dragon. He's cheated his way into this tournament anyway. Not that I'd like to join. No prize money and fame in the world is worth fighting a real-life dragon for.

Blaise is seeing that girl he went to the Yule Ball with. It's disgusting, really. They're always standing in the hallway making googly eyes at one another. Also, before you say it, I'm not jealous because they get to see each other and we don't. Plus, they're nothing like us. They haven't even kissed. They're probably like your archnemesis, that Becky girl. If they don't see each other over the summer holiday, they probably lose interest and break up before the new school year starts, too. Meanwhile, we rarely see each other and we're together just fine.

Talking about it, would it be possible for you to send me a picture? It's not like I have the desperate wish to look at you every day but the others don't believe me about having a girlfriend. They think I invented you because I don't want to come in second to Blaise. It's really ridiculous but it would probably shut them up.

In all honesty, though, I can't wait until summer comes along. Not seeing you has been a lot harder since Christmas. Summer just can't come fast enough.

Love, Draco

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fifth summer, July.

Y/n can't wait to see Draco again. It's the first week of the summer holidays and the weather is fantastic. A few weeks ago, Draco and she agreed that y/n would come to visit him at his family's home. Y/n was a bit reluctant to agree because she feared that her little muggle secret would be blown if she stayed with a wizard's family. Luckily for her, Draco canceled just before school was over with little explanation why she couldn't come over anymore. Instead, Draco proposed to spend a weekend in Salisbury, a town a bit away from his parent's house. He promised to take care of accommodation since he had to cancel last minute.

Y/n probably should have a bad feeling about this. She lied to her parents and said she is visiting her school friend Olivia whose parents have a vacation home in Wiltshire. Y/n's parents know Olivia and her parents well since the two girls often spend time studying together for big tests, so they don't question the whole thing. All in all, y/n has always been a girl who followed the rules and never gave her parents a reason to mistrust her. Y/n tells herself that it's fine. She trusts Draco and he wouldn't do anything to hurt her or get her into trouble. It seems as if he himself is afraid to get into trouble with his father and therefore is careful about what he does or doesn't do. Plus, if the whole thing turns out to be a disaster, she just takes a train home.

Y/n takes a deep breath while she stands on the platform and waits for the train. There's a heavy feeling in her stomach that she can't shake off the entire way to Salisbury. When she gets off the train, she looks around unsettled. What if he didn't come? What if he had to cancel again last minute? Worried thoughts race through her head and she can barely register what she sees around herself. Suddenly, a hand grips her arm softly. "... y/n? Are you deaf?", a familiar voice says. Y/n is ripped out of her spiral and looks up to where Draco stands. "I've been calling you all the way from over there.", he tells her. Y/n takes a shaky, relieved breath before answering: "Oh, I'm sorry, I really didn't notice you." Draco gives her a soft smile, the kind of smile she's been missing since Christmas. "It's alright. I'm just glad you came. For a moment, I thought you didn't step out of the train.", he says as he pulls her into his arms. Y/n hugs him back and relief overtakes her. "I also thought you maybe didn't come.", she confesses. Draco leans his cheek against her hair. "Why that? I promised you I'd come. Actually, I'm really glad to get away from everything for a while.", he tells her. Y/n breaks the hug apart. "Oh? Did something happen? Is that why you needed to cancel meeting at your place?", she asks him. Draco shifts his weight uncomfortably. "Yeah, haven't you read it in the paper? There was an accident at the tournament.", he replies. "Oh.", is all that y/n manages to say. Somehow, she doesn't like the way he said 'accident'. Y/n shakes it off and gives his arm a pat. "Hey, it's summer! And we have a whole weekend to do whatever we want. Let's not dwell on dark things!", she tries to cheer him up. Draco gives her another smile and nods.

"Right, let's go! I'd say we get you settled first and then we plan our weekend over a good lunch.", he says and takes y/n's luggage. "Yeah, so where are we staying?", y/n asks him. "A family friend has an inn in town. We booked a room.", he tells her. "We? As in your parents and you?", y/n asks surprised. Somehow she finds it hard to believe that Draco's parents would allow him to go on a weekend trip with a girl they barely know. "Yes, though I didn't specify which friend I'm taking. My parents have been so busy the past few weeks, they didn't bother to ask.", he points out with a mischievous grin. Y/n giggles. Seems like Draco is not afraid to get a little bit in trouble. "Are your parents ok with this?", he asks her, and y/n proceeds to tell him about Olivia. "I don't think my parents would approve of me staying alone with a boy at an inn.", she ponders. "Well, we have two separate beds. There was no way I could've found a believable reason why I need a double bed with a friend.", Draco points out. Y/n has to laugh. "Oh, but you thought about it?", she asks him cheekily. Draco's ears turn a bit red.

When they stand in front of the 'inn', y/n asks herself if Draco was joking earlier and if this trip was really a good idea. They're standing in front of a rundown, seemingly deserted, house. "If there are ghosts, I'm not stepping inside of this place.", y/n tells Draco. Draco only nudges her and says: "Have a little faith, it's a great place.". He knocks on the door and loudly says "Clabbert". With an abrupt swing, the door opens and a small, very gloomy-looking old man opens the door. He musters the two of them up and down, seemingly disapproving. Y/n shudders. The man has long, unkempt hair and clothes that look like from three centuries ago. If she met this guy on the train, she'd definitely switch compartments. "Malfoy?", he asks in a grumbling voice. "Yes, my mother sent you an owl a few days ago.", Draco tells him. "Hm. And her? She smells like a muggle.", the man asks and gives y/n a mean glance. Y/n wonders what a muggle smells like, when Draco swiftly answers: "My cousin. We're visiting an aunt in town, but she doesn't have enough space for us.". Y/n's surprised at how effortless Draco can lie. The man grunts and retreats inside, leaving the door open. Draco gives y/n a sign to follow him.

Y/n really expects the worst when she enters the house. Naked walls, rubble, and a freezing breeze. However, when she enters the house, she is met with warm candlelights and old-fashioned but cozy decorations and carpets. The man leads the two of them up an old staircase. Draco tries to lift both his and y/n's luggage, but y/n quickly takes her own suitcase. The man hands Draco a key and points towards a door at the end of the hall. "Last one on the left. Breakfast is at 8:00 am sharp.", he just tells them and stomps down the staircase again. "Charming.", y/n comments dryly. "That's just old Goover. Don't bother with him.", Draco chuckles. "Goover? That's his real name?", y/n asks while they walk towards their room. "Dunno. That's just what my parents call him.", Draco shrugs. At the door, Draco starts fumbling with the key and tries to open the door. "And he's your parents' friend?", y/n asks surprised. Draco's father looked so sophisticated. It's hard for y/n to believe that he's friends with a guy like Goover. Draco manages to open the door and pushes it open. "Yeah... uh they used to be in this club together. Here we are! What do you think?", he quickly tries to change the topic.

Y/n enters the room. The room has the same old-fashioned style as the rest of the house. There's a fire burning in the fireplace, filling the room with a comfortable warmth that immediately makes her drowsy. "I take the bed close to the wall!", she announces and throws herself onto the bed. "Sure.", Draco says and settles onto the other. Y/n starts unpacking some things from her suitcase while Draco watches her.

Y/n rolls over to face Draco and she props her head on her hand and says: "So, what now? Lunch?“. Draco nods. "Yes, I know a good place. C'mon!“, he says and stands up. Y/n pushes herself from the bed and grabs her purse. "Let's go.“, she smiles.

Somehow y/n expected to choose a fancy restaurant with steak or filet. His family does not look like they eat the same way they dress, namely expensive. However, Draco takes her to a fish and chips shop that looks like it's been opened somewhere in the 70s. The smell of fryer oil hits them in the face upon entering. An elderly old, white couple stands behind the counter. "G'day my lady.“, says the man and gives y/n an overexaggerated bow and a toothy grin. "Och, George. Be a little bit more serious around our customers.“, his wife says and nudges him. Y/n takes an instant liking to the couple. They remind her of her grandparents who live in the Yorkshire Dales and have a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. They used to have a farm with sheep there but since they retired they gave away most of the animals. "We'd like some fish and chips, please.“, Draco says as he walks up to the counter. "Then you're at the right place, lad. You want some mashed peas, too?“, the man asks. "No, thank you. Y/n?“, Draco says as he turns to y/n. "Yes, please! And some vinegar, too!“, y/n cheers. They pay for their order and sit down to wait for the food.

"So, tell me about the accident at school. What happened?“, y/n asks Draco as they wait. Draco looks down at his hands and solemnly says: "A student died in the tournament.“. Y/n wished she'd be surprised but everything she heard about the school screamed deathtrap to her. Basiliks, soul-sucking creatures, dragons. Nothing of that screams 'safe' to her. The only thing she's surprised about is that this didn't happen earlier. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was he a friend?“, she says compassionately. Draco shakes his head. "No, I barely knew him. Was in a different house and all.“, he tells her. Y/n crooks her head in thought. Considering the fact that he didn't know the guy, the whole thing left Draco pretty shaken, y/n thinks. She also notices how he doesn't really want to talk about it, so she quickly changes the topic. "How were your finals? I feel like I could've done better.“, she tells him. Draco gladly accepts the topic change and starts talking about his own exams. "The finals were terrible! I mean the results were fine but I just hate the exam days.“, he complains. Y/n nods in agreement, happy that they found a common topic. "Yes, they're just so stressful. It's like how am I supposed to write three exams in one day? My head is already smoking after the first one!“, she adds. "True. Which subject did you find the worst this year?“, Draco asks her. Y/n hesitates for a moment. She knows that they have completely different subjects at Draco's school. Witchy subjects. Does she lie now yet again or does she tell him the truth? She decides on the latter. "Algebra. It's my worst result. I was truly desperate when I saw the exam.“, she tells him truthfully. Draco frowns and gives her a confused look. "My school teaches muggle subjects.“, y/n tries to explain. "Why would they do that?“, he asks. Y/n has to think about that for a moment. "Well, muggle subjects are about real-world stuff, so it makes sense to learn about that too, you know?“, she tries to argue. "Real-world stuff? You consider the muggle world real but the wizarding world not?“, Draco asks her confused. Y/n shifts in her seat uncomfortably. Yes, it's exactly like that. She lives in the muggle world, her reality, and the wizarding world may be real but it is just some far-away fairytale world for her. However, that's not something she can tell Draco. Suddenly, she feels very hot and she can feel some sweat rolling down her neck. "I just mean the muggle world is as real as the wizarding world. So, we should learn something about both worlds since we can't just ignore the existence of the other.“, she explains. Draco ponders on this for a second and y/n is proud that she gave a clever answer. It's something she truly believes in. Muggles should learn about wizards and the other way around. Right now, muggles and wizards just live next to each other and y/n wonders what might happen when they start living together, in one society.

Before Draco has the chance to reply, the man behind the counter interrupts them and brings over their plates. "Bon appetit, my lovebirds!“, he says and winks at them while he puts their plates down. Somewhere in the back, y/n can hear the woman groan "Och, George! Leave them alone!“ which makes her chuckle. In the end, he's not wrong, she thinks. Y/n and Draco thank them and pull their plates towards them. "Enjoy!“ she tells Draco and he gives her a smile. For a few minutes, they eat in silence. Y/n hasn't had some real fatty, unhealthy fish and chips in a while and she truly enjoys it. With a mouthful of fish she groans: "Man, this is so good!“. Draco gives her a grin and swallows. "It is, isn't it? It's the best fish and chips in the whole of England!“, he tells her. Y/n nods in agreement. "You know, my parents used to take me to Cornwall every summer holiday. On the last day, we always had fish and chips in this crappy old shop at the coast. This reminds me a lot of it.“, she narrates. "Why are they not taking you anymore?“, Draco asks her. Y/n shrugs. "I don't know. They're both busy with work, I guess.“, she answers. Draco pushes some food around on his plate. "You have a good relationship with your parents?“, he continues to ask. Y/n thinks about this for a second. "I guess. I mean we don't argue a lot, unlike other kids in my class. It's mostly because I bring home good grades and don't act rebellious, I think. But it's not like we spent that much time with each other, just around the house for meals and stuff. And you and your parents?“, y/n replies. Draco continues to push his food around and takes some time before he answers. "It's similar but my parents are also very strict, especially my dad. Even when I'm not acting up, sometimes I just say something he doesn't approve of and he gets pissed off.“, he mumbles. Y/n already thought that's what their relationship was like.

She is ready to move on from the topic when Draco suddenly asks: "Do you sometimes feel like your parents do stuff you'd never do?“. "I mean, yes. My mom always wipes off the soles of her shoes after entering the house. I'd never do that. I just take them off. I only wear them outside anyways, why bother wiping them all the time?“, she says. Draco shakes his head and frowns. "No, not like that. I mean like... I don't know... bad things.“, he tries to specify. Y/n crooks her head. "Depends. You mean like tax evasion bad or murder bad?“, she asks. Draco shrugs. "Something in between?“, he offers.Y/n leans back in her chair and looks up to the ceiling. She is trying to remember if her parents or any family members ever did something that falls into that category. "Well... my uncle supports the alt-right movement, at least in spirit. He doesn't do much besides having a big mouth.“, she tells him. Draco looks a bit confused. "You know the type of people who'd like to oppress people of color and women? Like, he told me that abortions and illegal immigration should be punished with the death penalty at a family dinner.“, she explains. Draco nods relieved, then looks at his plate again. "Are your parents like that sometimes?“, y/n asks him softly. "Hm, yeah.“, Draco tells her almost embarassedly. Y/n reaches over the table and takes his hand. "Don't worry about it. Important is that you don't get involved with stuff like that.“, she says and squeezes his hand.

Suddenly, having lost all appetite, y/n proposes: "Hey, why don't we get out of here? Let's have a look around town and discuss what we want to do for the rest of the day“. Draco agrees and they both get up. They bid the nice couple goodbye. Y/n feels relieved when the fresh, warm summer air hits her face. "I'm probably going to smell like a deep fryer for the whole next week.“, she says while sniffing her clothes. Draco snickers and casually takes her hand. Y/n has to blush a bit and doesn't look at him. She also doesn't let go, though. Together, they stroll through the narrow streets of the medieval town. They decide that they take a walk along the Avons and check out the Market Walk. Y/n stops at a bridge and yells: "Draco, look!“. A family of ducks are merrily paddling along the shore. Draco walks up behind her and places a hand on her lower back. He stands so closely behind her that y/n can feel his chest slightly pressed against her side. Carefully, she leans back into him and Draco puts his arms around her, pulling her close. He leans his head against hers. "They're so cute.“, y/n whispers. Her heart suddenly beats up into her throat. "You're cute.“, Draco whispers back and strokes over her hair with his lips. Y/n twists in his arms so that she can look up to him with wide, almost expecting eyes. Draco softly presses a kiss to her forehead. When y/n doesn't pull back after it, his gaze flickers towards her lips. Y/n leans a bit closer to him and Draco lowers his lips so he can properly kiss her. Draco's lips are soft on hers. His hands find their way into her hair and he pulls her head closer, deepening the kiss. Y/n feels as if she is pudding in his arms. For a moment, she forgets that they are standing on a busy street. Draco pulls back and looks at her for a moment. "I've been waiting to do this since you stepped out of the train.“, he tells her and y/n has to giggle. "Well, you have a whole weekend to do this a couple of times more.“, she teases him. Draco raises an eyebrow and asks: "Is that an invitation?“. Y/n gives him a peck and answers: "Yes, it definitely is“.

They let go of each other and walk to the market hall hand in hand. Y/n feels like she could fly and all worries from this morning are long forgotten. The couple strolls through the market hall. Y/n stops at some shops and picks up some trinkets and books. Draco sneers at her affection for romance novels and y/n makes fun of him for being forced to read the great classics by his parents. Eventually, they have tea in a small tea room. They sit crammed in a little nook, holding hands under the table. The women serving in the café watch the two giggling and putting their heads together with soft smiles. It remembers them of a time long ago when they were first in love. On their way back, they stop at a Tesco and get some sandwiches. They have their dinner at the shore of the river and watch the sunset together. When y/n grows cold, Draco pulls her into his lap as an excuse to warm her up. However, all he does is steal some kisses. Something that y/n doesn't mind he does. When the streetlamps light up, Draco helps y/n up and they make their way back to the inn. They stop holding hands a block before the inn and create some distance between them. Obviously, Goover is not supposed to think that some cousins are romantically involved with each other.

Back at their room, y/n takes her toilet bag and disappears into the bathroom to have a long nice shower. She wants the smell of fish and chips out of her hair. Returning dressed in her pajamas, Draco also retreats to the bathroom. She uses the time to text her parents that she arrived safely and how she spent her day. She quickly puts the device away when she hears Draco opening the door again. A towel lays over his shoulders and water drips from his hair. Y/n thinks he looks marvelous. Draco plumps onto his bed and dries his hair. "So, what do you want to do before going to bed?“, he asks her. "I brought some card games if you wanna play.“, y/n proposes. She ends up teaching him Skip-Bo and UNO. Being a terrible loser, Draco demands compensation after she hits him with a 4+ for the fifth time. They end up making up on the floor between their beds. Firstly, their kisses are sweet and careful, still testing each other's boundaries. With time, their kisses grow more heated and longing. Draco pulls her into his lap again and his hands start roaming her body. He slides his hand under her shirt, stroking against the soft skin of her lower back. Y/n's hand messes up his hair. At some point, Draco's leg falls asleep. In an attempt to shift their position, his long legs hit the nightstand and the vase on it tips over with a loud 'clonk'. They let go for a moment, looking bewilderedly at the source of the sound. When the vase doesn't fall onto the floor, they are just about to continue when there is a loud knock on the door. "What are you children doing in there? You pay for what you break!“, Goover's agitated voice rings through the door. The two quickly dart apart, scared the man will open the door and see them in a compromising position. Draco clears his throat and quickly yells: "Sorry, I walked against the nightstand. Nothing's broken“. There is shuffling in front of his door, then silence. Draco and y/n look at each other with wide eyes, and then they both have to laugh. Y/n quickly brushes through her hair with her hands in hopes of looking more presentable. Draco shakes his head and chuckles. "Maybe that was our cue. Probably best to leave it at that for the night.“, he says. Y/n nods. She's a bit glad that they got interrupted. Kissing Draco like that felt good but she also had no idea where they were going with this and if she really wanted to go there, wherever that was.

After brushing their teeth, they settle into their retrospective beds and turn the lights off. After the conversation dies down, y/n lies wide awake in her bed. She turns over to Draco and listens to his breath. She stares into the darkness, hoping to make our Draco's shape. Eventually, Draco turns towards her and she notices that he's still awake. "You know“, Draco suddenly whispers into the dark, "I kinda really wish we had that double bed right now“. Y/n giggles at that. "I could come over“, she whispers back. "You could.“, Draco agrees. Y/n bites her lip in contemplation. "But no funny business?“, she carefully asks. "No funny business.“, Draco agrees again. Y/n slips out of her bed. The floor is cold beneath her naked feet and she hurries to get under Draco's blanket. He puts the blanket up and y/n cuddles herself into his chest. Draco pulls the blanket and his arms over her. Y/n can hear his beating heart. Draco puts his hand into her hair, softly messaging her scalp. The warmth and Draco's hand against her head start to make y/n dizzy with sleep. She nuzzles into his neck and slowly lets sleep take over.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tag list: @gypsylilim @caffeine-addict-slug @huiiline @rclector @am0iur

[Please leave a note if you'd like to be tagged too.]

#harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #wizarding world

132 notes · View notes

moonbyunniee · 2 years

Text

it's raining, it's pouring (but promise to keep me safe and dry)

description ➵ genshin characters in the rain with you <3

characters ➵ kazuha, xiao, hu tao, zhongli

cw ➵ fluff

a/n ➵ sorry i haven't posted anything in a bit (actually it's been ages sorry bout that guys)!! here's some headcanons for you that i've been putting off (procrastination things) hope you have a magical day/night🤍p.s. if you're taller than zhongli (how) you're gonna have to become shorter for his headcanon srry ;)

k. kazuha - 枫原万叶 ➵

kazuha is a weathered traveller

he loves the rain and everything associated with it

he loves the way it calms his soul and always brings him to peace with the world

*insert 1203988457 poems about rain*

so, don't take it as a surprise if he sees with you an umbrella in the rain...

...and then proceeds to gently take it from you and close it neatly

"y/n, my dove...umbrellas are inventions that shield you from the beauty of rain."

*insert that one bob marley quote about loving the rain but opening an umbrella*

he will then direct his face towards the rain, with the softest of smiles on his face

if you show signs of being cold, he'll give you a spare jacket he might have with him

and he'll hum sad tunes while strolling along in the rain with you close by his side

bonus headcanon, if you absolutely must use an umbrella in the rain, he'll offer to hold it 'over the two of you' but instead only holds it over you <3

"i hope you know that i love you more than the number of raindrops that fall from the sky in the most fearsome of cyclones, my dove."

xiao - 魈 ➵

rain is probably xiao's favourite weather

it reminds him that at least the sky is crying with him

sharing his grief and sorrow in ways no human or mortal could ever

being with you in the rain gives xiao something to take care of, even if he has no idea how to do this properly

"y/n...are you cold? we should go under some shelter if you're feeling cold...ah, you're not? that's alright then..."

when it starts to rain, xiao will start to internally panic, having no idea how to keep you warm and dry in the rain

he then abruptly realises that he has an umbrella

so he shares it with you, pulling you close so the two of you can both be dry

the two of you walk along in the rain in comfortable silence, with xiao holding the umbrella over your heads

he'll definitely carry you when you least expect it (bonus points if it's bridal-style) if you need to get over a puddle

"if you're cold, you can tell me and we'll stop by somewhere warm and dry...i would hate for you getting sick, y/n...well, if you're sure..."

hu tao - 胡桃 ➵

hu tao is a mischievous and energetic bundle of fun

so naturally, she's always looking for ways to share it (the fun)

rain excites hu tao

she probably has 100k theories about what rain is adn where it comes from

and she's always willing to share these theories with you

"y/n, i strongly believe that raindrops are the tears of the dead, who are either crying in joy as they watch their loved ones, or crying in sadness as they mourn not fulfilling their mortal lives!"

anyway back to the x reader part lol

in the rain, hu tao is as playful and fun-loving as ever

she might come off as annoying to some people, but to you she's just the exact opposite of that!

she's always there to find joy in the little things in life, and the rain is no exception!

she'll hug you close if there's lightning, laughing and teasing you all the time

and she'll also kick up the water from puddles, trying to get you wet with rainwater

"y/n, have you heard the tale of the two lovers who met in the rain? hehe...it certainly reminds me of us, doesn't it?"

zhongli - 钟离 ➵

zhongli is, simply put, the gentleman of everyone's dreams

soft-spoken, strong, and courteous

he'll offer you his arm to hold, even if you don't need it

he exudes a graceful, sophisticated charm that makes it impossible not to giggle and blush as he pulls you in close once you hold his arm

"now, now, my dear y/n...we wouldn't want you getting wet now, would we?"

zhongli is prepared for every single situation - trust him to have packed spare clothes for you

and, of course, how could he forget an umbrella?

he probably has a fine-quality umbrella that looks kinda like a parasol, is really big so that the both of you can fit under it

he's so tall, when he holds the umbrella over your head he has to lean down slightly to make sure you're safe and dry

your stroll in the rain is pleasurably spent jumping into zhongli's arms every time there's a puddle

and hearing his deep, comforting chuckles and words every now and then

and leaning into his rock-hard arms as you pause to catch your breath

"y/n...come now, let me keep you safe in my arms..."

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #kazuha #kazuha fluff #xiao #xiao fluff #hu tao #hu tao fluff #zhongli #zhongli fluff #kazuha x reader #xiao x reader #hu to x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin x reader #૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა writes

610 notes · View notes

sunsetzer · 4 months

Text

Assorted FFVI headcanons because these blorbos live in my head rent free: Edgar edition

- He became king at 17 and had to keep up an alliance with the people who killed his father alone for ten years, this man absolutely has anxiety

- Is used to suppressing said anxiety because he has to be dependable

- Definitely had a breakdown at some point in front of his friends and felt mortified; his friends don't judge him for it

- Workaholic- buries himself in his duties so he doesn't have to think about his feelings

- Tinkering as a means of comforting himself

- Actually quite the artist, especially sketching plans for machines, totally has a little notebook somewhere with rough sketches of various things and people he's encountered, Relm finds it at some point

- Doesn't hate kids but really also has no idea what to do with them if he's asked to watch them, will agree anyway (especially if it's for Terra)

- Always forgets to drink enough water

- Used to both hot and cold weather since he lives in a desert

- Outfit covers his whole body to protect from the sun but is very breathable so he's not overheating

- More of a survivalist than you'd expect him to be, especially knows a lot about the desert

- Can MacGyver the most seemingly unrelated useless objects into something useful

- The constant skirt chasing and flirting is intentionally exaggerated and he is not actually Like That to the level it seems

- Very bisexual, definitely has/had a thing with Locke or Setzer or both and also has a thing for Terra (good thing he's got two hands!)

- 100% would be down for polygamy

- Blonde hair is weird for a desert dwelling people with darker skin (related: I just cannot picture the figabros as white, they would burn so bad in the desert) but it's a Figaro royal family thing and of course Edgar is proud of it and vehemently refuses to cut it at all, impracticality be damned

- Uses some kind of special conditioner so even though the desert is hot and dry, his hair is very soft and shiny

- Figaro's native dishes can be notoriously spicy so the twins have a high spice tolerance

- Edgar absolutely deliberately chooses the spiciest dishes his country has to offer when entertaining fellow politicians he does not like, and his guests can't really complain because spices are one of those things that mean status and whatnot, so refusing a spicy meal is like slapping Edgar in the face, so he's just sitting there having a nice time and the other guy is internally on fire (yes he did do this to Gestahl and Kefka, the latter of which barely had a reaction to the pain and deeply unsettled him)

- Zero patience for nobility who look down on common folks

- Visits South Figaro incognito to check on his people, some of them have figured out it's him but they keep quiet about it

- Had the death penalty abolished in Figaro very early on in his reign

- Was personally responsible for the invention of air conditioning

- Gets adorably excited when talking about machines, will completely forget that not everyone understands technical jargon

- Very sentimental, has a collection of mementos from his travels, definitely still has the Gerad getup

- Will never admit it out loud but at least one of his friends has figured out that he can be calmed by stroking his hair, like a cat (it was probably Locke, they've known each other the longest, he definitely tells the rest of them because it's adorable and silly, yes Sabin was already aware of this)

- If he had a choice he'd be living in a little workshop building and repairing things for people instead of running a country

- A little bit vain but not obnoxious about it, mostly because he's supposed to keep up a certain image as the king

- Actually enjoyed being Gerad and not having to be proper all the time

- Is not stuck in Figaro all alone after the game because I refuse to believe they'd all just go back to doing their own things, instead his friends show up to pull him away from working himself to death and help take some of the burden off of his shoulders

EDIT: Can't believe I forgot my own headcanon I've already posted about but: migraines

Can you tell I think a lot about Figaro and the twins, because I think A Lot about them, I think the desert kingdom is very neat and desperately want to see it rendered in modern CG (I can't help imagining it would be like the desert region in ff16 every time the plot sends me there; please square I beg of you)

#i know there are more bullet points here than there were for setzer #i got carried away #i tried to keep it contained in my first post and then the brain rot just took over in the second one lmao #anyway i will yell about how much i love the twins and figaro any day of the week and at anyone #edgar roni figaro #final fantasy vi #ff6 #final fantasy 6 #ffvi #my post #i want more fics about pre-game edgar and i think i will have to write them myself #so be it

47 notes · View notes

edenfalling · 6 months

Text

Halloween after-action report

This year's trick-or-treater tally: 500+ kids, a handful of parents collecting on behalf of a sick kid at home, and a tired and harried reporter for the local TV station who frankly deserved some candy.

Don't move to a destination trick-or-treating neighborhood. Just, don't.

(I mean, you do get to see a lot of creative costumes! But the financial outlay for candy is such a damn pain in the neck, and if you want to make sure it will last to a reasonable hour you do need to supervise in person. This year I made it to 8:10pm, after which I went inside to warm up my icicle fingers and toes and left the dregs on a table with a "Take Two (2) Pieces" sign. The bowl was empty by 8:25.)

#also it was only 35 Fahrenheit by the time I went indoors #sure that's seasonal but I object on general principle #who invented weather anyway #how is this my life

8 notes · View notes

heliphantie · 9 months

Text

It's not symmetrical or perfect But it's beautiful, and it's mine

Some long ramblings about Isabela under 'read more':

I originally didn’t use to be interested in Isabela, brushing her aside as yet another emancipated princess character, but with time, I figured she’s more dimensional and distinctive character of her kind, and possibly, most multifaceted one next to Bruno. More than that, the two, as opposite they look on the surface, have enough things in common for him to have more rapport with her than with Mirabel, as movie seems to suggest.

First of all, magnitude of their powers. All of original triplets have got gifts that surpass any others in the family, outright divine in nature – abilities of healing, conduct the weather and foreseeing future. While out of third generation, Isabela has got an ultimate divine power – of bringing life out of thin air, and in accordance with her emotional state no less. Thus, her powers also require thorough control, which may be another hidden reason for her always needing to keep herself straight. And it’s apparent too, bearers of greatest gifts are also under hardest pressure, with Bruno and Isabela even visually (in the sequence of “Dos Oruguitas”) indicated to be most subjected to.

Second thing is, external and internal presentation. Out of all characters, the two have the most conflict between public perception and genuine expression, and an array of different facades in case of both – from impassive and contemptuous to caring and heartful. We don’t get to see any objective view of Bruno’s behavior in the past, but from how he’s perceived in retrospect, it appears he used to give off impression of distant and uncaring to people around him, which could’ve been simply an effect of his professional duty, including acting impartial to the events he gets to witness as local oracle and avoiding personal interference with anybody’s fate (just my conclusion, anyway). Which is rather similar to Isabela’s acting around people – pleasant, but not extremely intimate, more like performer than participant, and impression of egoistic, haughty person she leaves on Mirabel. (Did encounter with and insight of real Bruno give no clue about what her sister’s situation would be? It’s not a Mirabel-bashing article, but she’s one dense protag, I must say…) In that, they’re two people in family who appear to bottle their feelings and maintain the constructed façade the most of all (“So much hides behind my smile…”). In addition, as parallel to Isabela’s built image of conventional feminine “perfection”, Bruno has his own invented persona of Hernando, which seemingly serves as “perfect”, and more stereotypically masculine version of himself. (Their natural selves are, of course, still properly feminine/masculine, just of more subtle and nuanced variety.)

And what is fundamental trait shared between two: the extreme selflessness and devotion, and sense of responsibility, being prone to self-sacrifice with long-lasting consequences and openly declaring their willingness to give it all for the family. Which also slips into coming to well-intended, but misguided, and even hurtful in perspective, decisions: no, making yourself a traitor in the eyes of your relatives, never getting rewarded for your good will, while for noble reasons, is not going to bring family together, and neither does confining yourself to lifetime of fake love relationship (and hell knows how suppressed discontent seeping through would manifest itself in the end of things… Mariano dodged a bullet, also not deserving such misery). Anyhow, willfully getting your freedom cut short for the rest of your life for the sake of wellbeing and benefit of your loved ones is tremendous sacrifice (and yet again, it’s such a short sight on Mirabel’s part to take confession of that sacrifice lightly, beside of not realizing she is a case of Isa’s predicament, what with approving a proposal behind her sister’s back). And that’s where Isa is deconstructing Disney rebellious princess archetype even before her breaking out: unlike Jasmine or Merida, she actually holds her family in priority over whatever carefree life she could lead, and makes mature move, total opposite of pampered princess Mira thinks she is. It should be said, marriage is not something exactly forced upon Isa, but rather silently accepted on the assumption she does return affection of would-be fiancé. While Isabela seemingly doesn’t have the same luxury as Jasmine to reject suitors left and right (it doesn’t seem there’s a lot of options…), nor fiancé in question is as obnoxious as any of Jasmine’s, or, say, Gaston, she definitely has enough authority around the town to deem any suitor unworthy of herself or make her own choice, so she’s not that submissive in that situation as it may look. (And nothing indicates any of older Madrigals were forced into arranged marriage, which makes me think that is not entirely in Alma’s hands to decide on whom or if her children going to marry.) It appears, based on observation of similarities between Alma and Isa being possible reason for her singling the granddaughter out as her favorite, Alma might just have been projecting her own perfect romance on the young couple, being convinced they’re destined for each other just as she and Pedro were, and have to make up for her own abruptly cut matrimonial bliss, not taking in account Isa doesn’t have to be her carbon copy. Note that, entering marriage, Isa is not simply getting what she (presumably) wants, she puts herself in a role of next (after Julieta, most likely) matriarch, a head of family, a ruler of town, accepting huge responsibility, quite an opposite of effort-free fairytale life.

Which brings me to connection between characters affirmed in the movie itself: what was exact output of Bruno’s words – either prophetic or not – for Isabela? She is the only one, whose prophecy wasn’t appearing to fulfill itself, and she doesn’t comment on it even in the moment of honesty. We never get closure on that issue, let alone any conversation between two (because poor Bruno was denied of opportunity explaining himself properly by his kind relatives…). One answer that seems to be likely correct in context of Bruno’s reputation: because his vision always undoubtedly becomes reality, promise of the dreams coming true was taken for granted, and Isa considered that, as long as she goes with the flow and doesn’t take the initiative in deciding for herself, she obtains happiness by default. So, she’s basically another princess in waiting for the miracle (hm…) until she gets to break free on her own, which is consistent with modern trend of Disney subverting and defeating their own fairytale standard.

But other possible interpretation is: what if that promise, while leading to wrongful and harmful conviction, was giving her strength to follow her path and assigned duty, vested with faith she, by doing right thing, eventually will become a master of her life and achieve fulfillment. (And probably, it makes sense for her to think Mirabel, revealed being linked with imminent destruction of miracle, somehow also leads to her miraculous destiny being dissolved with no hope left.)

Worth noting, it brings up a parallel with classic story about destiny – and also another one of Disney fairytale standard – tale of Sleeping Beauty, blessed with magical gifts and cursed with ominous future, outcome of which tale being basically the same as Encanto movie: fighting future is dangerous, some losses are inevitable, but what’s matter is what we learn and take from it to improve even more distant future. Also, there’s even visual parallel – Aurora’s two-colored in funky manner dress as result of fairy godmothers fighting over its color, and Isabela’s multicolored holi’d dress, I wonder how intentional it was.

And one another minor and not instantly obvious connection, not clearly visible in the movie: both Isa and Bruno may be “brains” of the family! Some concept arts depict Isa being something of a bookworm, and while you have to be really observant (or peek at production art), there’s hints in Bruno’s environment he’s one himself – in addition to some books in his hideout, there’s drawings on the walls showing doodles of rats in casting of stage plays of Shakespeare’s tragedies and “Don Quixote” (both are not exactly light literature).

And while Isabela being an intellectual isn’t something directly stated in the movie, it’s still part of her development and isn’t contradicted by anything on screen. Though she probably may give preference to non-fiction on the topic of biology. Speaking of nerdy inclinations…

One last (rather tangential) thing worth of discussion: abandoned Bubo storyline and its connection to ultimate version of story. For the aspects that justify it being scraped for good: first, as I stated above, her being actually loyal to family, instead of trying to elope, makes for all more powerful presentation of her character. Second, is unfortunate implication of her being driven to person simply because he understands her (which is valid on its own) rather than because she likes him for his own qualities and personality. But it may be just lack of context for single scene, otherwise dynamic of two people with connection to nature and such contrasting behavior and appear is pretty endearing. (Official source states the storyline is written off so Isa in the end does not “defined by a man”, but then, Mirabel is treated like hero and she’s “defined” by two men, given she’s in need the word of Bruno on what action to take, and if we take literally statement that she was “send by Pedro” to save the family…) So while I appreciate her ending as more independent and decisive person, I still like how concept of that relationship speaks of her personality, and it did find its way in final version, even if in funny way, by replacing man with cactus:) Even as brief moment leading to big reformative number, having her admiring the “imperfect”, peculiar creature gives evidence of her carrying deep fondness for unconventional forms of beauty, fascination for irregular, whimsical (as opposed to what she’s assigned for - Mariano, while having his own depths and not entirely flawless as well, kind of dorky in his own way, is simply that – conventional and too ordinary for Isa to spark interest). And considering that trait of her was maintained through the variations of story, it seems more than plausible she may develop profound fondness and connection with her eccentric (and definitely “fish out of water”, as Bubo is described) uncle, which makes it a loss that the story didn’t even tipped toe into interaction between the characters. (And it’s hard to overlook, Bubo’s personal and even physical traits also seem to transfer into final version of Bruno, so the character’s concept wasn’t entirely lost either.)

On the final note, bunch of random musings about the character of Isa, that neither here nor there:

Speaking of unpredictable nature of gift and popular parallel between Isabela and Elsa: may it be that Isabela had to teach herself to regulate her power for pretty much the same reason, given connection between emotions and outcome, and inability for child to properly control it? Even in suppressed state, Isa’s powers have dangerous side to them: we see her being able to use vines to restrain people, making flowers grow from every surface, and later she creates carnivorous plants and just unleashes botanical chaos all around the town, not to mention that her negative emotions resurface itself as plants that unsafe for handling. Between Alma’s worried notion that Isabela got “out of control” and Bruno’s reluctance to face her (which he only partially admits to be for the fear to meet Alma), there could be something that young (and simply not being in existence yet) Mirabel might not knowing about full effect of Isa’s power when unbound and under emotional affect.

And one aspect that felt conflicting to me for some time: as for type of person with “green thumb” she’s supposed to embody (and more prominent “child of nature” image with which her character was conceived at first), Isabela acts rather violently, shown destroying her creations, plucking roses out of her flower bed, ruining topiary and such. But considering she’s not simply nature lover and expert (who she seems to genuinely be), but embodiment of nature itself, like Pepa is an embodiment of atmospheric forces, it’s organic for her to having embraced its destructive side as well, as part of death and resurrection circle. /So she’s a bit of like Stitch, with equally creative and destructive inclinations at one because of immense abilities she’s packed with:)/

I definitely have a little more to say, and contemplate, about the character… but some of it going too far into speculative and fanfic-y territory, so it’s a topic for another time. And sorry for all incidental Mirabel kicking:) – I have things to say about her too, but in its own turn.

#encanto #encanto fanart #disney fanart #isabela madrigal #bruno madrigal #ramblings #lot to say about isa #phantieart #phantie ramblings

82 notes · View notes

anteroom-of-death · 2 months

Text

Teacher's Pet part 14

Synopsis: The Reader gets a potential glimpse into her future. She also makes an enemy.

A/n: yeaaayyyy. More fun. Fuckery world building. Thanks to all my readers. I should probably do a tag list instead of zapping ur inboxes. Uhhh....yeah. to my mutuals who have to deal with me and aren't attached to this, I am sorry. I love you and I would donate my organs to you.

Grades were posted. Most were good, nothing to really write home about. You did far better than you expecting. The self-doubt really was deep-rooted, wasn’t it?

Except one. That stupid alien gave you a near-perfect. Just one point shy of an absolutely perfect one-hundred percent.

So much for no favoritism…

You’d take it anyways. And not bring it up…

Work was slow but it was steady.

He even met you between shifts at your park.

You started feeling a tad insane without him. Did love feel like this? You admitted you had little experience with love. Just what you attempted to create in the past. And trashy books and television shows and movies and songs…

You needed him like you needed a cigarette and a stiff drink after a long day.

Bella Swan would be so proud of you, you degraded yourself in your mind.

“How is work going?” The Doctor asked with genuine shine of curiosity in his tone and face.

“The amount of professors in now…I have to dodge them! I do think the statistics professor I had two terms ago recognized me!” You spoke in a shocked, scared tone. You didn’t need that getting out. Could ruin your future plans.

“Oh no!” He chuckled, as he handed you a bit of sandwich.

“You aren’t forgettable.”

You skeptically glared over at him.

“Any who. How was your gig at the student union?”

“No one appreciated the irony of Pink Floyd.”

“And?”

“Everyone loves Doctor Disco!” He flourished then played air guitar.

You burst out laughing. With a quick roll of your eyes, you shook your head.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“I invented the concept!”

“Probably true!” You let yourself think of his time on Earth. Who knew what funk he has spread? You weren’t going to delve into it much more.

Yet.

One day, when you felt brave enough.

“I have to go to London for a while in two weeks. Just maintenance of the Black Archives…I need to streamline some stuff for making it easier for my next few regenerations. And update some things about a plan for proxy since another organization is down to a woman named Gwen and her husband and she’s thinking of retiring the entire engagement. Her…leader hasn’t returned to the planet in ages. I doubt he ever will. This planet has caused him too much pain. Which, ironic, since his ancestors came from here. Talk about mother wounds! Just upload all the databases for UNIT to deal with.”

“Inviting me?” You clarified.

“Yeah…I think it’ll take a week. Especially with the layers of bureaucracy that is in place these days.” He looked over, his hair caught in the wind. “Could you spare a week? No TARDIS, no time travel. Just hop to, hop out, the slow way around.”

You licked your top row of teeth and scraped it back into place.

“Sure?”

“Perfect. I’ll have them ready a room, a better room for us.”

“One with a window?”

“If they do have those.”

You nodded.

“It’s a date!”

“Fantastic.” He smiled but seemed to flash in his eyes some hidden response from just the one word…

You chewed your shared sandwich and sipped your can of Coke Zero. The weather was getting warmer and the sun was actually shining in one of those perfect, photo-ready days.

“The vitamin D feels good, doesn’t it?” You turned your head to face the sun. The heat felt too good on your skin. You let a little moan slip through your lips.

“Perhaps. I might need a sun crème soon.” He replied.

You snorted. He was bone pale, but you didn’t know how alien skin worked yet.

“Yeah, you are pretty pale.”

Your alarm went off and you had to go.

Final good-byes said and you stalked off.

You had to plan out your little London escape. If it was hard work for him, you wanted to kill time in comfort. Do some sightseeing. Nothing major. London had tons of viral cafés and pop-ups.

The time flew by…

And suddenly you were off and away in another fancy armored Range Rover with armed escorts.

He did do you a bit of justice and got you a room with a view. Just not a particularly stunning one…

He went off, rather rapidly if you did say so yourself, because something needed him to submit his DNA and he couldn’t have any radiant interference. Petronella needed to be with him to get her DNA analyzed or something. You were not going to try to comprehend.

Fine by you, you’d nose around. There were so many floor and he gave you some sort of weird blank paper he said would get you through anything you needed.

“It’s psychic paper!” He said, smile up to his ears.

“Looks like a piece of printer paper shoved into an old wallet to me.” You replied as you regarded the object.

Fine by you, you stuffed it in your jean’s pocket.

You found yourself on the first floor, and saw a door open. There was a sign posted on an easel. ‘Companions and Surviving Family Support Group’, it proclaimed.

You put two and two together. It was probably in reference to the man doing who-knows-what.

You weren’t a companion per say. The Doctor assured you as much.

Did you invade? Did you go look at your future? Or a potential future? It mentioned family members…

Your curiosity got the best of you. Like that damn cat!

You walked in, it was set up like a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. Coffee, sweet treats, chairs all in a circle.

There were already a crowd of people.

And your entrance wasn’t exactly planned.

You slid onto the chair that was closest to the door. An east exit if this was too much.

“Oh! A new face!” A woman with a lot of life etched into her face with a kind smile and a mop of white-shock hair, her lips as red as blood.

“Does, is…am I late?” Was the best you could choke out. You could feel your eyes start to bulge. You swallowed hard. All eyes were on you. You didn’t like it. You preferred anonymity.

The mistake was already clear in your mind.

“No, dove. Right on time! We’re still waiting on Ian! I’m Jo!” She scooted her chair closer to you.

You thrust your tongue out and bit it’s side.

“I’m (y/n).”

A short woman with a leather jacket and all the authoritarian air of something that placed your hairs on the back of your neck at attention glared at you and Jo. “Why don’t we save it all for introductions…”

You got up and grabbed a bottle of water and sat back down.

An ancient man wandered in and sat down.

“Oh! Ian, love! We got a new straggler!” Jo said to him and gave him a hug that seemed too strong for her aged body.

The bossy girl cleared her throat. “Now we can start.”

You hated her already. She clearly ran this group with an iron fist.

There was Jo, Ian, the bitch’s name was Yaz, Martha, a woman who called herself Ace, a married couple named Nyssa and Tegan, a grandmother and grandson duo named Graham and Ryan, a Mel, and some young man named Luke…

Quite a big group.

It came down to you, you introduced yourself. And were supposed to give some brief synopsis of your relationship with the Doctor.

You stared off into space.

“Yeah, he’s here…doing something. I don’t know. I’m his…girlfriend. He’s also a professor at my university.” You stared at your left palm and gauged the reaction. “Nothing major. I’ve got his promise that he’s not going to get me in the way of death.” You finished with a shrug. “He introduced me to his…ex recently. Some milf named Missy. Have you lot met her?”

Yaz’s eyes could have make entrails out of you…

“What? Did I not brush my teeth correctly?” You pointed that faux-question towards her.

“She told me she didn’t do relationships.” She spoke in a tiny voice eventually.

“Well, maybe I’m special.” You shot Yaz a shit-eating grin masked as an innocent smile.

“Oh! I heard the Master went female!” Jo broke up your brewing tiff. “He was such a softie towards me! I enjoyed our little battles.”

You laughed and covered up your palm.

The conversations went on. Mainly centered around Missy now. Apparently she was the prime minister and tortured Martha and her family. Also, body-snatched Nyssa’s father. And became a cat. She’d certainly done her fair share of damage. No wonder she was chained up in a basement in Bristol of all places.

That explained her feline nature.

“Which Doctor are you with?”

“I don’t know. Tall? Thin? Scottish? Severe face? Plays guitar? Wild grey hair. Dark roots, too handsome…yeah.” You didn’t know how many or what the Doctor looked like previously.

“Oh. So the one before Yaz and Graham and me!” Ryan piped up. “She mentioned being a grey-haired Scot right before we met her.”

“Oh, so he got his wish of being a chick next.” You affirmed.

“Wonder what happened to you!” Yaz said, venom starting to leak into her voice.

“Nothing I need to know about, okay?” You pressured back. Two could play this game.

She clearly had sour grapes over you getting chosen and not her.

More conversations broke out, more story-swapping. You started to feel beyond way out just out of your depths. You had to keep your calm. Especially in front of your new foe. Any weakness and you were going to be either throwing down with her or she’d do something unspeakable.

She was apparently a police officer, after all!

“So you’ve never gone on an adventure? To space? Not even back in time? Or forward?” Ace spoke incredulously.

“No, I’m not going to put my life at risk. I made him promise to not. He’s retired. He just needs to help UNIT and rehabilitate Missy.”

“She doesn’t stay good!” Yaz spit out. She then told her tale of him and how the only way to break free from him, the Doctor had to hand Missy over to the Nazis.

“Not my problem.” You said, after finally scraping your jaw off the floor.

“And wow, what the fuck happened between now and when? Handing over someone to the literal Nazis?” You shot up an errant hand and glared. “And hanging around cops. No offense. It’s like historical Jesus versus American Jesus.” You made the decision to bite your middle finger nail in a covert attempt to flip her off.

“Maybe you had something to do with it.” She accused.

“Oh, yeah. Blame me.” You said.

Others attempted civility between the two of you.

Martha seemed between two minds here.

“Just remember how powerful your emotions are!” Ian called out. “Especially how deeply the Doctor evokes them in us!”

It dawned on you, and you decided to take the highest of roads. “Yeah, were dealing with some alien. Like…damn. We really are out here getting….cut up over an alien. He’s our weird alien. But yeah.” He was your alien. And you were going to defend your man, but you didn’t want Yaz and her feelings to make you any less powerful. “His body count has got to be in the millions.” You used the term in a way to dig in that the Doctor picked you for the mainstream meaning and not Yaz. But it worked for companions too!

“Who knows how many of us he’s taken a shine to!” Suddenly you felt yourself heart plummet. You knew you weren’t special as part of a group, but you decided to soothe yourself with your marked differences. No magical abduction story. Just a normal, morally-grey student and teacher relationship. Only it was your luck to end up with the most ran-through alien.

And, it did suit you. You too were ‘ran-through’.

You wished he was free and you could get some comfort here…

You felt yourself return to normal, and decided to pass the ultimate catch.

“Sorry for getting heated. The past month or so since he’s revealed his double life to me, has been…shattering. I’ve only recently discovered that he was…you know, not some man I hang out with. I only recently started calling him Doctor. Not Professor Smith.”

The though of him not taking anyone else as a lover after you did fill you with a sense of pride. Whatever impact you had, that was a mark in your favor. Loyal to you…even if you were dead or broken-up or whatever your fate was to mess around with anyone else.

A permanent (y/n)-shaped hole no one could even get close enough to fill.

When he was done with his task you’d have to slap him and then suck him off.

Martha finally put in her two cents.

“Just don’t get hurt. The last time he was in love when I was with him…so bad. The ending was enough to destroy me.”

“Thank you.”

The conversation went back to normal. You really enjoyed Jo’s stories. Apparently he was a white-haired debonair sort for her. You were curious to see what that had looked like. You doubted it could compare to your particular Doctor, but it was probably very close.

You found yourself laughing and getting along with most. Except for Yaz. You both kept finding yourselves shooting daggers at each other.

You tried to rise above it.

However. You were only human…

You heard a sharp rap at the door and turned at the noise.

It was your Doctor.

“Sorry. I was going to the toilets. Heard some nice familiar voices. Smelt the coffee! I love a cup of coffee after genetic sequencing…Hello!”

There were nary a word as he strode over and made a cup, dumping about a dozen sugar packets in.

“I’ll let you all talk amongst yourselves. Oh, and (y/n), I have tickets to walk through the Chelsea Physic Garden at three. Will you join me? And Martha, I am so deeply sorry for all I’ve done to you. It’s weighed on my conscience since I was a young man in a bow-tie. Truly. From the bottoms of both my hearts. And, oh, faces I don’t know yet, catch your laters.” He shot a quick peace sign.

He breezed out with the same ease that he came in with…

You flushed hard and felt yourself wanting to kick your legs hard. The smile that crept up around your face was probably very goofy. You felt suddenly very giddy and lovesick. And embarrassed.

You swore you heard Yaz mutter something about “Daddy issues”.

You wanted to snap and fight her on the floor.

Jo and Ace heckled. “Oh, he’s back to being a groovy gentleman.” Jo said. “I recognize that red jacket!”

After a while, everyone seemed to wrap it up.

You received quite a few warnings about how passionate a relationship with the Doctor is, and how it would eventually run it’s course.

You didn’t know whether to heed it, or believe him. You were airing on the side of him. After all, he could have popped down here in his TARDIS, but he was following your regulations down to the letter. Changed behaviors, and for whatever reason, when you were long gone, and he was a she, the Doctor didn’t take Yaz up on her romantic offerings.

You felt ashamed of your ‘I can fix him’/’I am the only exception’ mindset. You were a rebel to the idea of monogamy usually. You also didn’t believe in true love. Not after all that you’d seen at work and even experienced in your personal life. However, the beating of your heart and the ache in your soul and the throb of your cunt interfered…

You felt like you were his favorite.

Maybe you were.

You were delusional enough, you decided.

With final hugs and you swore you’d get down and learn more about your shared alien, you’d exited to go and text him that you were out front, smoking.

“You know, maybe you died from lung cancer.” Yaz materialized, carrying some stuff to her car. “Or emphysema.”

You blew out a puff in her general direction.

“I don’t need a lecture. He’s already on my ass enough to get me to quit.” You played back.

“So, lady Doctor. What does she look like?” You asked. Curious. You tried a friendly route. “Still Scottish?” The two incarnations of Time Lords you had met had been. It was an honest question. You even tried a cordial laugh.

“No, definitely not Scottish.”

You nodded.

“She’s blonde and has the most amazing eyes! I took her to get her ears pierced. She’s the most incredible and infuriating person I’ve ever met.”

“Apparently that’s par for the course.” You agreed.

She gave you some agreement.

“Does she still play guitar?” You offered an opportunity to bond, girl to girl. You may have hated her, but a cop on your side may come in handy. One day. And you both were tied to each other now.

So…you had to act your age or whatever.

She was a little younger than you. You could remember being her age. Empathy.

“No, she can’t even carry a tune. She sings all the time.”

You had to let a small snort escape.

“He can sing really well.” You cupped a palm to your mouth. “It’s a bit annoying at times, you know. He frequently does during his lectures.”

“So…that hadn’t changed.” You could see the gears in her brain turning.

“Wait, he’s your professor?” She exclaimed.

“Not currently.” You shrugged, as his text saying that he was coming down popped up, absolved of guilt.

“That’s so wrong!”

“Honey, the Doctor abducts barely legal girls with a degree of regularity. I think a tame affair with a student who started uni later than most is the best-case scenario. You included.” You flicked a bit of ash off your cigarettes end. “No offense.”

“Yeah…” You clearly won.

He swanned into the little front garden at the entrance of UNIT. He changed to a hoodie and simple black blazer and a relaxed pair of checked trousers.

It made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey. I was thinking Italian for dinner. Or Thai. In the fifty-second century there’s a great collision of their flight colonies.”

You smacked your teeth together and let out the final puff of smoke.

“You’re the Doctor before my Doctor.” Yaz gazed up, a look of pre-mourning in her eyes.

“As my wife, River, would say, ‘Spoilers, sweetie.’ It’s nice to meet you early. I’ll try to wipe you from my memory to make it easier for my future self.” He gave Yaz’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Yeah, good luck. See you soon?” You called out as you let yourself be swept off your feet by your particular Doctor.

“Sure?” You heard her say.

A few blocks later and going on the Underground, you pulled him close by the lapels. You gave him a firm kiss and slapped his ass. It was a ‘thank-you’ in a small, simple way. You’d never end up, all things go as planned, like any of those perfect victims. Who knew, maybe you’d dump him. It was all open-ended.

You had your entire life ahead of you. More or less.

For now, it was just you, the Doctor, and a walk in a garden with a fabulous dinner date.

“What was that for?” He looked at you quizzically.

“You’ll never know…” You grinned immensely and a little psychotically. You felt your nose crinkle a bit.

“Oh?” He replied back, skeptical in tone.

It was a start.

“Yeah…” You breathed, inhaling this moment. Inhaling the scent of him, you felt sane, safe, stable and most importantly- in love and loved back.

The train pulled up.

A perfect start to a perfect week.

He snaked out the psychic paper and tapped it like it was an oyster card. You entered the platform and smiled up at him...

Yeah, life was beyond awesome.

#personal #doctor who #12th doctor #12th doctor x reader #12th doctor x you #you x 12th doctor #reader x 12th doctor #self insert #teacher student #doctor who fanfiction #u know we need to write more insane women #i am providing this service #i wrote this #yipee #peter capaldi

18 notes · View notes

awakenedsalamander · 6 months

Note

would you be willing to speak moron the Technocracy? you have very interesting takes on it and I would like to know more

Happily!

So to me the Technocracy (in its 20th and 21 century incarnations, anyway, the early Technocracy/Order of Reason is different in some significant respects) represents a view of the world that is divorced from anything other than data and hard facts. This viewpoint is not exclusive to scientism, the paradigm I discussed in my recent post on the Technocracy, and is in fact an arguable core of pragmatism itself— there are times when it is essential to put aside ideals, emotions, and speculation and work only with what you can tangibly interact with. Sometimes, you have to put aside how the world should or could be, and work only with what it provably, unquestionably is.

But if you’ve ever discussed politics with someone who keeps insisting “well, that’s just how the world is,” rather than engaging with new ways of thinking or unconventional ideals, you’ll probably have realized that this way of looking at things can be profoundly limiting.

(Incidentally, this is why I think there’s the tendency to align most Technocrats with Stasis/The Weaver— the paradigm of technology itself can be Dynamic, Entropic, and Questing in a lot of cases, but the way the Technocracy uses it is broadly static, I think.)

Let’s use an example here, and talk about climate change. There’s a tendency to view the people most effectively driving climate change— the executives who profit off it, the lobbyists and politicians who sustain it, the demagogues and conspiracists who argue against its reality— as malevolent. They know what they’re doing, they know how it hurts the world and the people who inhabit, and they’re fine with it. Maybe some of them even enjoy it. This is basically the tack Werewolf: The Apocalypse takes with Pentex, for instance.

And that view is, to a larger extent than I think is remotely comfortable, true. Reckoning with the truth in that is part of what makes Werewolf fun, and it’s also one of the drivers on Mage’s own Nephandi.

But, I think it’s also true that most of the people responsible for ecological collapse don’t see themselves as doing anything wrong, and are instead able to just elide the details of the morality and ramifications of their industry/system/ambition and focus purely on the benefit. As said earlier, that is sometimes necessary— in an immediate crisis it can even be a godsend— but in the long-term and on a wider scale it can be quite damaging.

See, if you focus only on quantifiable data, there’s a way to look at climate change as kind of a trade-off you make for important numbers to go up. Industrialization is, economically speaking, incredibly beneficial, the advancement of technology improves not only wealth, but also security, communication, and even quality of life, and from the point of view of certain fields (at least as they currently exist) like agriculture, commercial shipping, energy production, and so on, the policies that really combat the bad effects of climate change would be disastrous! Can’t we afford a few more degrees Celsius for all that?

And if you want to get really dark, there’s the fact that wealthy countries and their oligarchs are going to be the least affected by natural disasters, resource conflicts, and pandemics. It won’t be easy, sure, but nothing ever is, and from a realpolitik standpoint, if other nations (which are potential threats after all) suffer those bad effects more than you do, then maybe weathering the storm is tactically viable…

So all in all, don’t pump the brakes, and certainly don’t reinvent the wheel here! We’ve got a good thing going, and it could be chaos to stop it! Hell, with all the benefits we’re getting, we might even invent some gadget or technique to solve the worst of it.

But of course, this misses so much. In the same way that topics I wanted to touch on, like algorithmic culture and automation, may have valuable benefits from certain points of view, you have to look at the whole picture. With climate change, you already see mass extinctions, and no amount of restorative cloning is going to reverse the ecological damage there. We’re going to see an increase in displacement and homelessness by disasters and the need for people to relocate from dangerous areas, which will ruin lives, if not end them. To say nothing of the inhumanity of allowing suffering on this scale when something can be done about it, right now!

But how do you prove that “ecological damage,” “ruined lives,” and “inhumanity” are worse than the loss of trillions+ of dollars which we’d have to spend to avoid them? It’s apples to oranges— no, it’s the abstract to the concrete. If someone only wants to think about the numbers, then there’s at least a debate. There’s cost benefit analysis and logistic comparison— but not action.

Now, I am simplifying significantly here. There are many reasons that climate change and other societal crises aren’t addressed beyond scientism, or political inertia, or even just greed and selfishness. To name a few, we also struggle against ignorance, against fear, against exhaustion, against bigotry, against the unknown. It’s not so simple. One of the problems with the worldview I’m attacking is its tendency to simplify things by smoothing over the issues, so I don’t want to do that.

But I do think that the biggest issues in our society can’t be tackled with cold math and a focus on what nets the best cost-to-benefit ratio. I think in a lot of cases, that kind of thinking— which, to bring it back to the point, is the kind of thinking the Technocracy embodies— is what got us these issues in the first place.

God, was this too serious for a World of Darkness discussion?

Anyway, thanks for the question! I appreciate the chance to analyze the topic.

#mage the ascension #wod #world of darkness #essay?#ramblings #also #I know it was a typo #but ‘would you be willing to speak moron’ is a hilarious phrase #and I thank you for it #the technocratic union #technocracy

38 notes · View notes

msmargaretmurry · 1 year

Note

i love the concept of leon getting banished to cringefail MLS and desperately wanting to go back home 😭😭😭 I don’t know if you’ve ever seen people absolutely dunking on leon’s skating skills but maybe he did start out with hockey but got so mad about his lack of grace on skates that he’s just like fuck the stanley cup I will score goals. on my FEET! and then he ends up watching matthew in the playoffs

anon, i'm thrilled to hear this, because i also love the concept. i have no idea what kind of situation would have to occur for a german player who is theoretically good enough to play in the bundesliga to land himself on an mls team for a season but i have full faith that with some magical fanfiction handwaving a quasi-reasonable reason can be invented.

according to generous purveyor of german knowledge @irrelevanttous, when leon tried soccer (football, yes, i know) because all of his friends were playing it, he wound up quitting because he was mad the coach wouldn't let him take free kicks, which is such a funny and petty reason that coming up with an equally funny and petty reason for him to have quit hockey instead would be great fun. it's giving "NO DAD, I WANT TO LIVE MY DREAMS NOT YOURS" vibes, except for how i feel like peter would be like "that's great son let's buy you some new cleats."

anyway, the bright side of landing in south florida for this north american soccer adventure is that inter miami has easily the best logo in the league. which would be no comfort to leon the footballer who does not really want to be there, but it's fun for me personally. he'd look great in the black and pink. this is my soapbox for more pink in men's sports, you cowards.

so, for reasons, leon the footballer schleps across the atlantic. mls season starts in late february and i assume they have training and stuff before then so let's have him arriving in mid-january. he is so grumpy, and the fact that the weather is so nice makes him extra grumpy, because he is determined not to like it here. he will do what needs to be done to get his career back on track but this is TEMPORARY, okay?

except then maybe before the season kicks off, a bunch of the guys get a box at a panthers game as a little team bonding excursion. they don't really know much about hockey, they just think it would be fun. they definitely don't know how much leon knows about hockey — i don't think anyone in the miami soccer community knows what a peter draisaitl is; people in the north american ice hockey community barely know what a peter draisaitl is — and leon's like, he enjoys hockey as a spectator now, he'll play a little pickup with friends sometimes, but once his teammates figure out that he knows literally anything, they are clustered around him while they all watch this game, asking questions and laughing at his judgey little comments, and unfortunately for leon he winds up having fun.

after the game — panthers win, everyone's in a great mood — someone from the cats' pr team or whatever is like, hey, south florida sports supporting south florida sports, do you guys want to come meet some of our guys? yeah sure why not. and obviously amongst the guys doing this little meet and greet is one-man hospitality crew matthew tkachuk, whom leon definitely noticed on the ice, and is definitely noticing now, because uh oh, charming handsome man alert. matthew is shaking hands with every inter miami guy and asking their names in a way that seems genuine, but he's also oozing this easy confidence that really makes leon want to fuck with him a little. matthew gets to leon, shakes his hand as they exchange introductions; matthew says something like "you know, i don't know much about soccer but i'll have to get out to a game this season," and leon says, "yeah, well, i know a lot about hockey and whoever taught you to skate, i think they owe you your money back."

matthew stares at him, and leon has this moment of, ah fuck i was too mean again, why are americans SO sensitive, but then matthew laughs and says, "that would be my mom, and don't worry, i will definitely let her know." he's starting to breeze on by to the next soccer guy, but leon has this weird feeling of really wanting to continue the conversation — he blurts, "tell her don't worry about it, my father taught me and i was never any good at it, either."

this makes matthew stop and catch leon's eye again, and leon can see the shift in his expression from politely friendly to genuinely personally interested. it's subtle — he's not sure he's supposed to be able to see it — but matthew's smile goes a little crooked and there's this spark in his eye and oh, what a nice little win for leon. time is limited, though, so matthew must move on and finish meeting every single soccer guy, except before they all get shuffled out matthew circles back around to oh so smoothly be like, hey lemme give you my number so if you guys want to come to another game i can hook you up.

and thus it begins… an intense flirtation that turns into fucking that turns into feelings…. two elite atheletes desperate to prove themselves in their separate sports for different reasons……… one of them desperate to make a home in south florida and the other one deserate to get out…………… i just think it would be neat :)

#ask #matthew and leon #the problem is that to write this i would have to learn so much about soccer. not sure i have that in me #hockey for ts #inter miami fußball club

64 notes · View notes

bigification · 4 months

Text

A Collection of Link Transformations

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

- Kohga's Ceremony -

Prelogue

"No no no no no! This is not how it ends. Not until the Demon King sees my invention! And certainly not by my mortal enemy Link." Master Kohga screamed while taking off on his Zonai Wing. This had been the fourth time Link had defeated him, Link was surprised that he was still standing after taking so many beatings. Thinking nothing of it, he quickly grabs an autobuild plan from the Yiga base before taking off.

A Couple Days Later

"Who's there!" A Yiga foot soldier yelled through the door. After receiving no response, the foot soldier opens the door and looks down to see a short soldier. "Why didn't you say anything, c'mon in." The foot soldier welcomed the disguised Link. He makes his way deeper into the hideout, coming across a blade Master, looking up at their massive stature. "Congratulations young blade Master. You have completed my tests to become a blade Master. Come with me." Link appreciated his directness, maybe this ceremony could give him more information on Master Kohga.

Link follows the blade Master into a secret backroom in the hideout. "Please sit." The blade Master demands, Link reluctantly following his orders and sitting on a massive red throne in the middle of the room. A couple of foot soldiers enter the room as the blade Master continues his monologue. "Lucky you, since our Master Kohga has perished in his last fight with that dreaded Link-" he continues on. I guess he was worse off than he looked last time I saw him, Link thought to himself before the blade master finished his monologue. "You get the honour of becoming our new master!" Not like anyone else deserved it, he muttered under his breath in an annoyed tone.

A chill ran down Links spine when he heard that. He quickly tried to draw his weapon, but he found restraints had been tied around his wrists and ankles.

Before he could react to his predicament, the blade master pulled out an old looking journal with weathered pages. He flipped over the pages before clearing his throat and beginning a sort of chant. As the blade master continued, the two foot soldiers grabbed pieces of master kohga's uniform and began placing them on Links body. They started with a belt, a large x shaped belt with eye-like symbols all around. It didn't act much as a belt though, seeing as it sat loose around Links small waist. He thought it was odd, but he was distracted by the fact that the foot soldiers seemed to be shrinking. Or so he thought. It finally clicked to him as the last of his bones stretched in his now much taller body. He felt his restraints loosen as his limbs stretched. This could be his time to escape. He pauses for a moment, then questions why he would want to escape anyway. His environment seems to become more inviting every second he listens to the lovely melody the blade master is singing.

Snap out of it! Link shakes in his restraints, trying to resist whatever magic this is. But then he felt kohga's eccentric collar wrap over his broad shoulders, and he almost felt at peace again.

Suddenly, his moment of peace is disturbed by a gurgle coming from his stomach. What's a master got to do around here to get some mighty bananas! Kohga, I mean Link thinks to himself, as puffs of smoke appear above his head. He tries to rub his stomach to ease it, only to feel a soft lump in its place. He looks down to see a round gut poking out of his uniform. It swells and grows, going from a barely noticeable belly to a full on ball gut. It continues to grow in spurts, sending larger and larger ripples through his softening body each time.

"Why does it have to be so drawn out, why can't he just poof and be fat already." One of the foot soldiers complains.

"I don't mind watching him plump up like that." The other chimes in.

Kohga finally seemed to settle down once his gut stopped growing. He looked down proudly at the ball of fat that now laid on his thickened thighs. He pinched the love handles that poured out above his belt, fits perfect, he thinks to himself.

Finally the foot soldiers place the final piece of kohga's uniform, a white mask with the familiar eye symbol and a black tuff sticking up above it. Kohga tried to focus on what he was thinking of a moment ago, but it seemed to fade away. Something about not letting in. "My diets never work anyway." He thinks while patting his gut.

"Welcome home master." The blade master says while kneeling on one knee.

Kohga finally felt at ease. He snuggled his ass into the familiar feeling of his throne, leaned back and spread his legs.

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

- Kilton's Monstrous Extract -

"This one is a marvelous weapon, just exceptional!" Kilton held up a mop in a desperate attempt to sell anything. Damn he's smart, Kilton thinks in response to Link's unconvinced expression. "Oh, what about this." He grabs a deep purple potion. "My own creation, it will keep the monsters away...for a short period of time." He slammed in on the table confidently.

To his surprise, Link tossed a couple rupees on the tables and grabbed the potion.

Suddenly, the noise of a moblins snort rang from behind Kilton's shop. Kilton squealed and hid in his hot air balloon as Link turned confidently and chugged his newly acquired potion.

Link tried to move forward toward the moblin to see if the potion had worked, but he was stopped by a heavy feeling in his stomach. His stomach gurgled loudly, seemingly in response to the concoction that he just ingested. It was almost like he couldn't move. In his frozen state, he heard a few rips. He looked down to investigate and saw that his arms had burst out of his sleeves, making them fall to the ground. His chest then ballooned out, two thick pecs forming as they shredded through his tunic. The shreds of his tunic fell and revealed a defined six pack on his stomach.

Link was struck off balance when his knees bent backwards, like those of an animal. He fell further out of balance when he felt his feet curl up into what felt like stumps. It caused him to stumble and kick off his shoes. As he stumbled around, he heard the sound of hooves tapping on the floor, before pausing at the realization they were his hooves. He could not process this however, as his skin began to turn a light gray, almost white, with stripes of purple.

Link's body continued to grow. Within minutes his body was about twice as tall and twice as wide as normal. His hands grew strong and massive as sharp claws emerged at the tips of his thick fingers. His forearms widened until they were bigger than those of a Goron, and his biceps grew larger than any creatures Link had seen before. His shoulders broadened, making his stature even more imposing. His chest and abs grew in proportion with the rest of his massive upper body, though his legs stayed relatively small in comparison.

Link attempted to lean back against Kilton's shop to regain balance, but his ass bumped into it far sooner than he expected. He turned his head and was shocked to see a horse's body sticking out his backside. He examined the second pair of hind legs and hooves, and the long black tail that trailed him. It almost reminded him of a lynel.

As the potion had almost finished its effects, Links face began to change. His nose flattened a widened as the lines of his face became more pronounced, giving him a permanent angry expression. His eyes became a bright red, furthering his angry expression. Two horns began growing from his forehead, growing until they were larger than his head. Finally, dark hair began to grow from his head and hands. A large patch of hair grew on each of his hands and long black mane grew around his head. This left him with a large imposing beard and a thick mane that rested on his back.

As the transformation slowed, the now lynel remembered the man who gave him the faulty potion. He turned and let out an echoing roar, causing Kilton to squeal in fear as he frantically fled in his hot air balloon.

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

- The New King -

Link finds himself entering glooms lair, ready to take on Ganon. Assuming Ganon possesses the power of the secret stone, Link enters carefully after preparing for a difficult fight. Though, to Links surprise, he enters to see the same decaying body he met under Hyrule castle. Link confidently pulls out his recently repaired master sword to finish a war started long ago, but not before Ganon could get a word in. "I knew you'd come, always have to be the hero and get in the way. Today is the day that ends." Ganon chuckles before grabbing his secret stone. Link shudders as a bright red light engulfs Ganon, when suddenly a force hits Link, knocking him to the ground. Laying on the ground, Link hears maniacal laughing from Ganon, but quickly gets distracted by thick gloom surrounding his body. "Why waste my power trying to defeat you when I could just use you." Ganon laughed. Link tries to say something but he quickly got overwhelmed by the gloom.

The feeling of the gloom seemed to over power his body bit by bit. He could feel his body as it began to grow, doubling in height as muscle poured into his once small body. His clothes didnt last long, Thick thighs ripped through his leggings and juicy pecs blew through his chestpiece. He looked down at his hands to see them double in size as an olive colour overtook them, quickly spreading up his arms. As the his skin changed colour, his scrawny forearms widened and his biceps blew up in size, at least the size of a hydromelon. The transformation continued to take over his body, his shoulders broadened and his pecs created a shelf over his defined six pack, giving his body a distinct V shape. His waist shrunk as his hips widened and his ass rounded out, hanging over his massive thighs. A large bulge formed under what little cloth was still covering his legs, leaving little to the imagination. His legs grew much larger, matching his hulking body, and his feet burst out of his shoes.

After his shoulders had broadened, his neck widened, connected to his shoulders by huge trap muscles. His head grew in proportion to his new body as his facial features sharpened, giving him a razor sharp jawline, a prominent browbone, and a big nose, all familiar traits of the men of Gerudo. Suddenly a fiery red and well kept beard grew on his face while matching hair grew on his head, reaching half way down his muscly back.

By now, any semblance of Link had been long gone as Ganon began to take over the mind of his new body. "Heh, that was easier than I thought." Ganon said in a deep coarse voice as he grabbed the clothes off his old body. He grabs the secret stone before leaving glooms lair with everything he needs to become king.

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

- Marbled Rock Roast -

Goron City almost feels empty, despite being full of Gorons. They lay around the streets, all fixated on a weird glowing rock roast. Link tried to ask around for Yunobo, but no one even acknowledged him.

"Hey Goro!" A voice yells from behind him.

Link feels a large hand rest on his shoulder, and turns to see Yunobo. Although he's not like the rest of the Gorons here, he seemed distant, and why is he wearing that weird mask.

"You got to try this Marbled Rock Roast Goro! It's the new biggest thing around here." Yunobo said excitedly while pulling out some of that glowing rock roast.

Link couldn't even get a word in before Yunobo broke off a small piece of the roast and shoved it in Link's mouth. He tried to push back, but there wasn't much he could do against a Goron that's easily three times his size.

He felt a burning sensation on his tongue, but it soon turned to a strong savoury taste. Link could feel his body relax as the roast melted in his mouth, almost like he was put into a hypnotic state.

"I knew you'd want more Goro." Yunobo continues to give Link chunks of the roast, which he now happily accepts.

It doesn't take long for the roast to take its effects on Links body. His body started to grow, slowly at first but quickly speeding up. His clothes started to look really tight against his skin, his sleeves and pants began to ride up. His biceps began to strain against his sleeves and a rounded belly started to peek out below his shirt. Though that was just the beginning.

Only seconds later, his clothes laid on the floor in shreds after he burst out of them. His stomach turned into a thick, round muscle gut that hung over his crotch. His pecs grew large and strong, though stayed remarkably defined compared to his gut. His chest and shoulders broadened to the point of being wider than Yunobo. His biceps grew so big that they looked like he stuffed two hydromelons in them, and his forearms weren't much smaller. Cracks were heard as his hands thickened more and more until they were as large as his biceps. His hands were large enough to completely wrap around his old body, similar to the proportions of a Goron. His feet followed suit, giving him massive feet that would rival even bigfoot himself. Though his legs stayed quite small in comparison to his hulking body, growing just muscular enough to hold his weight.

Link, now as tall as Yunobo and much wider, still stood oblivious to his situation with a blank stare and glowing red eyes. His pale skin shifted into light golden colour, leaving him slightly lighter skinned than Yunobo. His face began to change drastically as his neck basically disappeared into his massive shoulders. His hair completely fell out and his head rounded out into a typical Gorons head shape. His mouth widened as his nose shrunk until it was barely more than a nub with nostrils. His eyes became large and beady, and would be a deep black colour if it wasn't for the red glow emanating from them. His eyes brows became large and angular while his brow bone became more prominent. Ash blonde hair began to grow around his face, giving him a large pointed beard and a receded hairline.

"I'm glad you like the Marbled Rock Roast sir." Yunobo said to the elder Goron that now stood in front of him.

18 notes · View notes