#...i feel like this is an idea that could have a lot of different divergences

[twinklecupcake]

.....what if Azula was the Avatar?

Would Ozai keep her as a soldier, a tool against the other nations? Would he try to kill her?

If she showed signs of another element as a small child, would Ursa have seen?

Would Iroh?

Would Iroh have tried to keep Ozai from getting his claws into her while urging her to hide her earthbending? Would Ursa have tried to take her and Zuko away with her?

Would Azula have gleefully tried to show off more bending to prove why she was more talented than Zuzu?

Would she have been torn between "Daddy will be thrilled!" and "Daddy would kill me?"

[elodieunderglass]

I'm not as familiar with LOTR as you are, so I wondered if you could tell me if my wild theory is completely off-base.

No one knows where the Hobbits came from, except that at some point they diverged from the line of men. No one knows much about the Entwives' appearance, but we do know that they fucked off a long time ago.

Could the Entwives have been dryad-ish and hooked up with the hobbits' ancestors and so be the foremothers of the hobbits?

Ah I think I saw that post! The concept has a lot of charm, and when the Tolkien estate loses its corpse-grip on the property in 2050 or so, I think you should write it and sell it 😤 I’ve definitely read some good takes on entwives in fanfiction that both leaned into canon and moved away, and I think that sounds like good fun to explore. A common theme in the fandom is playing with Yavanna, the Green Lady, being the mother or patron of hobbits. This isn’t canonical, but she’s a “green goddess” archetype and is married to Mahal/Aulë, the father of dwarves, which shippers often leverage to their advantage. You could do something quite charming there with Yavanna if you wanted to. We also know that Entwives loved gardens and orchards rather than forests.

Some things I would explore with this include:

what is going on with all these consistent ideas of people, races, women disappearing. We know that a lot of it is how Tolkien processed an almost OCD-like Catholic framing of “the fallen world is getting worse and can never be repaired”, war experiences, romanticism and other stuff stewing in his old man head. What are some ways you could show what’s stewing in your head? What does “people disappearing” mean to you? and why is it especially healing that they disappeared in order to make new families?

I think “they disappeared from their old kin and made new kin” is an interesting and weird thing worth wondering about!

- this would possibly make hobbits a more recent race than is implied. What does that mean to you?

- why are hobbits teeny tiny?

A very good starting point, that Terry Pratchett used a lot, is taking some grand statement in fantasy fiction, and making it reflect a different political reality. “Most dwarves are girls actually.” “Wizards parody academia, but, like, FOR REAL.”

I personally have a different take because of my own political feelings and framings! I have a lot of complex feelings about Tolkien chickening out of hobbits. For various political reasons I personally have to take the stance that they are fully human, fully indigenous, and have their own native language. and that their disappearance is less “teehee we lost them” or “O, the Catholic guilt of the Fallen World, how far we have fallen from the light of the two trees God’s sinless light” and a lot more “oh yeah I’ve seen THAT pattern before.”

If you have a political sort of lens on, someone telling you “yeah… hobbits came from nowhere 🤭 and then disappeared 🤷‍♀️ sad!” is a story that can also invite the response of “OHhhhh you wanted their LAND real bad, huh.” Like, we know what that means, right.

It’s a political stance for me. Hobbits have to be close enough to us to touch, and we have to be able to face that, and the fact that 5,000 media properties will chew on tolkienelves and sell them to you before even admitting to the 🤭 just makes it even more of a 🤨. To me.

…But I have literally just been elbow deep in my own demented fanfic thing that involves inventing a language just to swear in, to enable my standing on a box shouting HOBBITS OUGHT TO RESIST GOING EXTINCT ACTUALLY, based entirely on, I think, spite. Why do multiple authors publish orc football games (Terry Pratchett) and orc coffeeshops (Legends and Lattes guy) and do every damned thing with every bit of Tolkien’s corpse but refuse to look directly at hobbits. I am feral over this and wrote 59k words so far to damage and harm my friends

In conclusion I see a great story shape there about kindred and I think you should explore it and it should be about evolutionary biology and women and divorce and nobody being wrong.

And if anyone argues you with some podcast boy “well actually”, just bite them and do more character work and sit on their heads

[mrsmiseryxo]

he holds me in his arms, it’s no good

rick grimes x fem!reader

🎧 American Tradition- Nicole Dollanganger

Rick Grimes takes you in after the fall of Woodbury. Having lost everyone, you form a special relationship with the man. After the virus shakes the group, The governor comes back with a vengeance. You flee with Rick. As you get closer with him, you want him to see your relationship very differently.

4.7k (sorry)

Disclaimer and A/N- Some canon divergence. carl is fine but let’s just say he is with michonne until they reconnect. Judith is fine too. A bit of angst. This idea came to me in a dream!!! Not proofread

CW and Tags- Angst, age gap ( reader is in her early 20s) unprotected p in v, fingering, Loss of virginity, a lot of intimacy,, protective soft rick who is a bit reluctant,loss of loved ones ( mentioned) trauma bonding, cute nicknames,can’t think of any more lol

It’s a cool Georgia morning. The stomp of Rick’s boots makes the leaves sound extra crunchy. Cicadas hidden in the trees chirp as the two of you scavenge for shelter. It’s been 3 days since the destruction of the prison. As you and Rick walk along a highway, your hands interlock your hand in his hand.

As far as being in the apocalypse goes, you’ve had it pretty easy. You’ve always had somewhere to go, and people to rely on. You were in college when everything started, states away from your family. You’ll realize early on that you’d never see them again, and disturbingly, you tried to forget them altogether. This path of thinking was clearly unhealthy, you knew, but this entire situation was dysfunctional and not ideal, to say the very least.

You were at Woodbury for a while. You were eternally glad and gracious, because you knew if you went out into the outside world, you would die immediately. You couldn’t shoot a gun, the thought of running made you ill. After the fall of Woodbury, Rick Grimes and his group in the prison took you in. As you always fit a domestic role, Hershel taught you to plant and raise pigs. You would spend your early mornings and afternoons tending to the pigs, and hanging out with Rick.

The two of you would talk about mundane things, the movies you used to like, the weather, and how fast the pigs were growing. You saw the glimpses of his troubled nature here and there, but he was really trying. That's all he could do, was try. He put in effort to be a good father to Carl and Judith.

On one particularly hot night, the two of you bare your soul to one another. You were feeling particularly sad because it was a hot and humid afternoon, you were sticky all over and covered in bug bites. It was late summer, the time of year when the outbreak had started. While digging a hole to plot a new plant, heavy glops of tears ran down your face, and small sniffles were let out. You had your face in your hands, as tears fell into the planter. Rick has been watering the plants, whistling. Rustling around, he didn’t notice your soft cries, at first. And when he did, he immediately dropped the watering tin and jogged to you.

Hey, hey what’s going on? what happened, you alright sweetheart?” He showed great concern in the tone of his voice, looking tentatively into your eyes, as you tried to wipe your tears away with your sleeve. Pulling you in for a hug, you’re hit with his dusty musk, his scent grounding you, calming your nerves. You shiver under him as he holds your head in his forearms and hands.

“ I don know if it's any consolation, but m always he’re for you.” He says ever so softly. He places his lips, softly, on the top of your head.

You manage to let out a hushed “ thank you” into his shoulder.

He whispers an “ anytime” while still holding you. It's more intimate than anything you've ever done. His forearms, muscular and defined, entangle you lightly. An unspoken bond was formed, and your understanding of each other was taken to a new level. You continue to sniffle into his linen-lined shoulder.

You two were like that for a while. Touch had begun to be a rare commodity in the end times so you cherished it with every moment you had. A simple high five had left your hand with a stinging aftershock.

The air around you two shifted, and you began to see him differently. He obviously caught your eye even before you said one word to him, but the feeling was starting to be mutual.

Rick was at war with himself. His wife had just passed, he had a baby daughter to look out for and this wasn’t necessarily the time for a crush on a girl decades younger than him. But he couldn’t deny how you made him laugh at the silliest things, and how you scared the devil out of him when you clumsily fell or scraped your knee. You simultaneously make him anxious, and tranquil. The very sight of you gives him relief, makes him forget his situation.

The two of you sit down on the grass. He grasps your hand as you spill out what's wrong.

“ Uhh. I dunno. Guess I've just been feeling weird lately. The weather makes me feel sad. Reminds me when it first happened. Last time I spoke with any of my family members it was months before the outbreak. I never kept in contact. I really regret that, should have.” Your voice steady now that you feel a breeze coming in. You pull out patches of grass in pinches.

“ ts alright. I got in a fight with Lori, that was the last time I saw her until I woke up from my coma” He explains and smiles, looking ahead at the prison, the rays of red sunlight illuminating his face. You swear he’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, comparative to a painting.

You never wanted to ask him about her, you’ve only heard whispers of the man’s wife. You didn’t want to think about that, and you didn’t want to think about Rick thinking about her.

He gets up and offers his hand. “C'mon, lets go wash up” As he walks you to the prison, you rest your head on his shoulder.

That was a few weeks before the virus. It was hard to be in the dark if any of the people you began to bond with were alive, close to dying, or not.

Then the governor came back. Gunshots rang around the prison. Your shoulders hung up with fear as Rick approaches the governor's army. Hershel is killed. You grab a gun and shoot whoever is charging at you. Rick catches you and yells for you to run. A blur you could hardly remember. Flashes of quick movements feel like forever, until Rick grabs your hand.

The two of you escape through a fence, as Rick watches Carl run with Michonne.

Rick couldn’t think of anything right now, except for protecting you. He knew Michonne and Carl would be safe with one another, all he needed to pay attention to was you. He wouldn’t let you out of his sight.

Traveling for days on end without a sign of a safe shelter began to take a toll on both of you, especially Rick. He didn’t know when he would see his son or his newborn daughter. He still had to bring you to safety, figure out the next course of action.

The only thing he had to calm the storm was you. He was glad that it was you that he ran with. Your protection and safety were the thing driving him, he needed you just as much as you needed him. To pass the time, the two of you would whistle and hum and sing your favorite songs. You’d began to sing “Take Me Home, Country Roads” while practically skipping.

“Hey slow down, kid, can’t keep up with ya” He chuckles while jokingly warning you.

“I'll stop if you sing with me” you giggle, as you find solace in constant moments of distress.

His eyebrows furrow and he scoffs. He starts singing, horribly so, to get you to stop skipping.

A peace of mind was needed. You come across the library hidden in the trees near a country club. Rick looks at you spotting it, as you try not to mention it. You know it’s probably run with walkers, and it’s not a good idea to go.

“Let’s check this out. We won’t be long but maybe they have a couple things” He sternly points out. “That okay with you?” his drawl comes out a bit at the end of the question. You give him a slight smile and a nod.

“Good” He takes your hand and as a force of habit, you look both ways while crossing the street.

“You don’t have to do that, you know that doll?” He giggles. The two of you giggle too much in the apocalypse.

“ I know but I kinda want to,” you explain to him.

He looks down at you and softly whispers, “You’re like sunshine,” You can barely hear what he says, but based on the stoic expression on his face, you probably shouldn’t ask him to repeat.

The two of you stroll to the library while Rick checks for walkers. You’ve only ever killed a handful, but you know you needed to be useful so you had your hand on your knife holster.

He holds the door open for you and gives you the all-clear. With a gun in his hand, he scans the place for walkers, listening for any low groans. He puts his gun back when he doesn’t see any. A hand caresses your back as he motions for you to go ahead.

You wander the adult fiction section of the library. The books on the shelf are collecting dust, which makes you quite sad. You browse the A section and come across Sense and Sensibility, one of your favorites. Rick comes up behind you.

“ Hey, can I take this?” You look up at him.

“ Yeah, of course, take whatever you want sweetheart” He whispers. You swoon at the use of his pet name and get embarrassed at yourself for it. It’s horrible that you smile at every interaction you have with him, but you know he doesn’t think of you like that. It would be silly to think otherwise. You shove your feelings down and feel something turn in your gut.

He walks over to the T section and grabs a copy of The Hobbit.

You scan the employee break room find gauze in a first aid kit and decide to put it in your backpack.

“Alright, let’s get outta here. I think I see a neighborhood some way” He says again in a low tone.

You tiptop in front of him as he moves his gun around looking for walkers while exiting. You walk in each other's silence while on your journey to a simple house without any walkers nearby. He offers you some peanuts out of a pack he found in the library. You take them.

You and Rick settle in. It’s homey and has no residents, so it’s absolutely perfect. You take your boots off to make minimal noise, as you roam and try not to make creaks on the wooden floor.

“Be careful, yeah?” Rick settles on the couch, body spread out, stifling a groan. The image of him laid out like that is almost pornographic. He licks his lips, his shirt is lifted up a bit and you can see his defined biceps, hands on top of his head, his stomach peaking out. You close your eyes for a second and imagine yourself sitting at his feet, hands on his thigh while he pets your head. You shake the image immediately and roam upstairs.

All of the bedrooms are intact. You walk into what seems like the primary bedroom. You descend down the stairs to alert Rick and give him the all-clear. He is peacefully asleep and silent. You walk over to him and grab his jacket. A hand plays with his hair softly, as you admire his sheer beauty. The shape of his nose, his pale piercing eyes, and his dark coiled hair.

You settle down on a rickety old chair, watching over him as he rests, draping his jacket over you like a warm blanket. All you can think about is how grateful you are to have Rick here. It truly was the best-case scenario, him with you. You watch him sleep peacefully as you beam at the image of Rick finally resting.

While fast asleep, Rick could feel your eyes on him and moves his mouth in a slight twitch. The only reason that he’s able to close his eyes is because you’re there. His little angel. You read your book as the light peaking through the window begins to dwindle, and the air gets cooler. He wakes up after a couple of pages. He sluggishly gets up and gives you a sleepy smile with half-shut eyes. You offer him water you filtered while camping out in the forest. He thanks you for the water while guzzling it down, water dripping down his chin, he wipes it all over. You tell him that you saw some board game upstairs in the main bedroom. He follows you up.

The both of you settle on the bed, sitting up. He can’t stop staring at you, like he’s about to devour you. You walk over to a small bookshelf holding Connect Four, monopoly, and a deck of playing cards.

“What do you want to play?” You ask considerately.

“Uh… your pick” He runs his hands over his hair.

You take out the deck of cards, looking at it tentatively.

“Ya know I've never played any card games”

He clears his throat and responds. “Really, well we’ll start real simple. Uh, let’s play War. It’s easy, you’re a smart girl so you’ll catch on quick,” he chuckles.

You’re on the edge of the bed near the bed frame, you take the deck out of its case. He leans in closer to you as you inhale his musk. You hand him the cards as your eyes linger on his hands.

“ Alright so here’s what we do. So basically,” You do not pay attention to what he’s saying. A nod is given, you say that you get it and you’re ready to play. To be quite honest, you don’t care about the game. All you really want is to pounce on him.

Surprisingly, Rick catches on. He sighs, “We don’t have to play if you don’t want to. Looks like you clocked out” He gives you a slight smile.

“Nah, I want to but I got something on my mind, it’s really nothing,” Your gaze shifts to the wooden floor.

“Well spill, this a good time as any,” Southern definitely drawn.

“ Well, when we were in the prison, before the virus, before the governor, that stretch of time where everything was fine and felt like normal?” He nods along. “ I used to crush on this guy. It was pretty bad, I knew he didn’t like me like that. But god, he was enigmatic. He was so dignified yet so sweet and caring.” You’re overwhelmed. And a liar.

“Anyway, I shouldn’t be thinking about him in that way. Wrong guy, wrong time to feel that way about anyone.” You sniffle.

Rick is absolutely clueless. You could tell he was trying to list off all the boys that were around your age.

“ I’m sorry to hear that. He was so stupid to not return those feelings. You’re such a sweet girl. A girl like you deserves the goddamn world. I know it might just be the two of us for a while, but I want to give you that world. It’s you and me ok?” At first, he’s angry at you, it’s irrational he knows. The only man he wants you to think about is him. Then a wave of protectiveness crashes over him. Your eyes begin to sting as his words hit harder. Tears stream out and roll down your cheek, as you let out soft hiccups. His arms grip you so tightly, it seems he might never let go. His warmth spreads all through your body like white hot fire.

“ I never ever want to see you cry like this. It hurts me to see you like this. My heart shatters to pieces when I see you sad, sweetheart.��� He pulls away and looks into your eyes while he lectures you. He gently strokes your cheek and wipes your tears away. Your heart rate slows down and you’re grounded. He holds you again, his touch seeming to be familiar now. He’s held you like this before but it’s home now. A deep, disgusting feeling of guilt hits, you despise yourself for lying to him.

“ I have to say something else Rick,” A low whisper.

“Say it then, doll” He whispers back, as you brace yourself.

“Rick. I like you. Not like a friend, not like a daughter. I don’t want you to see me that way. I want to be close to you all of the time, I get weird when I'm not near you. I need you, Rick. But not like that.” your fingers tussle with his belt loops as your eyes wander around the room, down at boots, unable to meet his eyes.

Rick took a second to respond. Inching back, He sighs and runs his hand through his dark curls, conflicted. He pats his thigh, not knowing where to go next. Finally, he replies.

“oh yeah, and how do you like me?” He gazes into your eyes, maintains eye contact while you want to make yourself smaller.

Words can’t seem to come out of your mouth, as all

you can manage to spit out is a “ I.. I..”Rick inches closer to you and begins gently grabbing your arm and placing pecks along your collarbone.

In between kisses, he asks, “is this how you like me sweet girl? Ya need me like this?” he holds your jaw, while he gnaws softly on your lips. you coo out “Oh oh ohs” Hands move up and down your stomach as he grabs your waist.

Your kisses are sloppy and glossy, as he practically inhales you.

“You like me like this huh?” He sets you on your back as he towers on top of you. His knees entangled with your legs, you moan as he keeps kissing your neck. The scruff of his stubble nuzzle into the softness of your neck.

“Baby, I need to ask if you want this, tell me to stop and I'll stop.” He gazed at you for an immediate answer. Of course you want to, you’re hesitant to respond.

“ I-I want to, but i should probably let you know i ain’t never done this before,” You say softly. It’s all new to you. Of course things have happened in college but you’ve never gone that far before.

Rick stops in his tracks. His dick is hard and pressing against your clothed sex. He can’t say no to that shine in your eyes, and the way you clutch onto his arms.

“uhh, alright. I’m gonna take it real nice and slow sweetheart, ok? that alright with you?” He asks with his accent accelerating with the question.

“Okay Rick,” You nod, with a slight expression of worry on your face.

“I’ll make it good for you, don’t worry baby,” He reassures you and seals it by running his calasse-ridden hands down your body then clutches your hand, fingers entangling.

“I trust you.” A shimmer in your eyes.

He descends down the bed, eye level with your pussy, pulling down your shorts, leaving you half naked in your underwear, a wet patch forming. His eyes wide in utter awe, mouth agape at the dark spot at the middle of your panties. He massages your clothed cunt, rubbing in circles to see how you’d react. Quiet, mousy gasps escape your lips.

“Can I take these off sweetpea?” He purrs in a low voice, like honey.

“Of course.” You respond in an eager whisper. He pulls down your underwear and flings them across the room. The two of you smile at this action, your cheeks turning warm from embarrassment, as you hide your face from your hands.

“ Is that all for me?” He strokes your thigh and you nod your head, all doe eyed.He parts your legs open, his hands move up toward the entrance of your sex. A vulnerable feeling creeps up as the hair on your limbs stand up.

“Imma make it even better,yeah sweet girl?” He nibbles at the inside of your thighs.

Arousal settles in the low part of your stomach as he fiddles with the entrance of your pussy. He is excruciatingly slow, building tension.

He palms your exposed sex with his big hand. The cold metal of his wedding ring around his finger is cold against your wet warmth. You don’t think about that, as all you can focus on is the sound of his guttural grunts and shock at your perfect pussy. His pointer and middle finger move in circles around your clit, not entering you just yet. You moan as he slips his ring finger into your plush entrance. You let out a cry as his finger plunges in and out. The sensation of his silver ring against your hot sex adds to the stars you see. He looks to you, wide-eyed, asking for confirmation to add another finger. You nod.

He adds another finger, stretching you out slowly. Sounds of your wet squelch fill the room, along with small squeals and low whispers of “good god” coming from Rick. He didn’t think he could ever make a girl this wet until now.

“You take my fingers so well, baby.” Arousal coils in your core. Your heart pounds as your head feels hazy. He curls his fingers toward your sweet spot, as a scorching sensation of hot waves come over you. His fingers feel your pussy pulse, as the intensity of stimulation increases. Your legs jerk, slightly as you give into pleasure. “Rick, ’m coming.” You breathlessly sob out. A wave of electricity crashes over you, you’ve never came that hard before.

“That’s it, sweet girl, you can come.” He growls. Simultaneously, as he fucks you with his fingers, he brushes his lips up and down your stomach. He finally takes his fingers out of you. The tent in his pants is firm against your pussy. Sweat sticks to your neck and collarbone, as he grabs your chin and kisses you like an old vintage movie. Your eyes closed, arms desperately holding onto his shoulders for dear life. Deep, wet, kisses, lips barely touching, slight brisks of your soft lips against his. Your face is hot as his erection presses deeper against you. A damp patch soaks through his jeans. You slightly grind yourself against his knee, without shame.

“ We can stop here, we don’t have to go all the way,” Rick reassures, with a slight breathless rasp.

“No, no, we can keep going. I want to keep going.” You desperately plead for him not to stop there, in a soft sweet voice.

“Ok. we’re doing this. remember, tell me to stop and I will.” He sternly asserted. He fumbles at his belt, a bit desperate to take it off. The clink and thud of his buckle hardens your nipples and pools arousal in you. You don’t realize that you bit your lip until you taste metallic on your tongue.

He pulls his boots off, along with the rest of his clothing. He gestures to help you pull your shirt up, and you let him.

His cock springs out of his boxers, all pretty and pink, hitting against the low part of his stomach. His length leaks out precum at the tip. He’s pretty well-kept, considering the situation at hand. You bask in the sight of him, his curly pubic hair wild at the base near his heavy balls.

You stare in awe at how gorgeous he is. His beautiful entrancing eyes so pale and blue, his luscious curly hair, his defined arms. You smile up at him and he laughs. You would do anything for him. You would kiss the tip of his boots if he asked, and that’s the problem. Rick lingers on your lips, brushing his fingers against them. He spits on his hand and rubs his length, he does with what he has.

“Gonna be a big stretch, ok baby?” He lines his tip at your entrance. “Alright, here we go.” He slowly stretches you with his thick length, your pussy swallowing him whole. He hisses a groan.

“ Oh God!” You mewled.

“ Ahh fuck baby, you’re so goddamn tight. Gotta pace ourselves.” He mostly says that to remind himself to take it slow, the last thing he does is want to hurt you. It’s a bit uncomfortable at first, you’ve been told, and of course maybe it’s a little unpleasant, but Rick's touch and the earthy scent of him is intoxicating. You feel full, like you were each other’s missing piece to the puzzle.

He isn’t even halfway in, and you’re doubting your own ability to take all of it. He cradles your head, his fingers sprawled over the side of your face.

“Mmm, so feels full” You sob out.

“ I know honey, I know.” He coos at you. He starts thrusting in and out at a slow pace as you acclimate to this full feeling. You're so wet, your pussy resists and almost pushes him out, but he’s so huge and you're so tight, his cock is almost stuck. Lewd sounds of him pounding sweet juices leaking out of you.

Your fingers clutch the bedding, your hot all over.

“ Feels so good baby, God this pussy is gonna drive me crazy.” His voice sweet and heavy like honey.

“mmhmm” You’re already quite fucked out, and you can’t seem to think about anything but him. Him, him, him. You buck, signaling for him to go deeper.

His strokes get sloppier as he moans into your ear. He mumbles low “I love you I love yous” continuously as he kisses you all over your cheek. His calm, daddy demeanor unravels as your walls continue to spasm and flutter against his cock.

In the heat of the moment, you aren’t totally sure if he really means it. The two of you have shown affection, the evidence supports what he says.

“You really mean it? You love me?” You whimper, gazing straight into his eyes. His tip kisses your cervix, but you feel nothing but utter bliss.

“ More than fucking anything.” He enunciates each world with a thrust. He’s close, you could feel it in his rapid strokes and in the way his arms hold onto you for sweet release.

“Rick I’m so close please” You plead for him to go deeper, faster.

“I know honey, I feel it.” He says through gritted teeth, pumping in and out of you. He gently rubs the sides of your lower belly, as he drills into you, the both of you feel crashs of euphoria.

“Cum on my cock, that’s it baby ,” Rick groans out, as your pussy convulses against him. His cock stays in as you feel him twitch around you, he leaves a lingering kiss on your forehead.

He pulls out, asking you if you want it on your stomach. You nod as you look through your eyelashes. He’s on his knees now, jerking his cock, cum spurting out on your stomach, He closes his eyes and groans out. He moves off the bed and grabs a shirt folded onto a chair, wiping his release off of your stomach.

He jumps back on to bed next to you, as you bask in each others presence, bed creaking in response. He looks to you, almost studying the structure of your face. You turn to him, running your hands through his hair.

“ Thank you. for, well, doing that. I liked it a lot.” You giggle. He giggles in response, rubbing his temples.

“Any time. Well maybe not, but we should do this again.” He gazes at you and smirks . Still half naked, he opens his mouth to say something, he hesitates.

“ Ya know what I said, I mean it. I meant it when you came crying to me. I love you and I need you. I know you think you can’t live without me, but I can’t live without you. can’t imagine it sweetheart.” The scruff of his beard scratches your chin as he pulls you in for a soft kiss. You curl up against his chest, breathing in his musk. You drift off into his the tight hold of his arms, feeling as if he’ll never let go, and you’re ok with that.

ty for reading!! not stoked about how this turned about but wtv

dont ask me how long this was in the drafts for….

[myosotisa]

i'm starvin, darlin - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader

ǁ summary: Since coming back from the Upside Down, Eddie has slowly been changing. Each week seems to bring something different and he finds himself doing things he never thought he would.

ǁ tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no y/n. nickname used (sweetheart). mentions of season 4 final episode and what occurred. canon divergent (every one lived). it's not smut, but smut adjacent. it's sexy

ǁ word count: 2k

ǁ notes: i sat down and wrote an entire one shot in one sitting again. and i am also not going to edit this one. and i do not feel bad for lowercase hozier title, so don't even try me like that. if y'all really like it, i can add a part 2 with smut, but this is it for now

-

There are still a lot of things Eddie is having to come to terms with since the night his heart stopped.

That night in the Upside Down, laying in Dustin’s arms, he had died. Without a doubt. Dustin had felt his pulse and there was nothing there. And though he didn’t know CPR, had no idea what he was doing, Dustin had laid him down on the ground and started to beat against his chest. Like maybe if he hit hard enough and in the right place, his friend would come back to life.

Somehow it worked. No one bothered to ask why.

But they all knew something was wrong two days later. Eddie, barely breathing and with a weak heartbeat, had been dragged back to the surface and hidden away in the RV they had stolen. Someone watched him round the clock as they debated what to do. If they should try to get him to a hospital, how they’d be able to explain it. But then something miraculous began to happen:

Eddie started healing. All on his own. Way faster than any person should have been able to.

His skin stitched itself back together faster than should be possible, leaving less scar tissue than it should have behind. His chest began to rise and fall in more steady breaths, his heart beat getting stronger, bones resetting themselves with slow and quiet creaks as he laid in that RV bed and slept. He’d been asleep since they brought him back.

The day he woke up, his body had almost entirely healed itself. From the brink of death, having even stepped over to the other side, and now he was almost back to before it ever happened. It had only been a week.

Everyone rejoiced, refusing to question anything weird that may have happened in the Upside Down and just thinking they finally won for once. Max had casts on both her arms but was otherwise unharmed, Steve had recovered from his own injuries at the rate of a normal human and now sported a scar around his throat that he sometimes felt self conscious about. Dustin was on crutches with his broken leg for another month at least. Eddie was alive and whole and back to himself. They’d made it, everyone had made it.

He began to notice more and more things that were different as the days went on.

The first thing he caught on to was that he had the capability to be strong. Way stronger than someone who had recently been bed ridden should be. It was like in the comic books with the Hulk – if he wasn’t paying attention or if he got too emotional, he could easily break anything. A walkman destroyed, a ceramic bowl reduced to shards, a metal pipe bent beyond fixing, the wooden handle of a hammer shattered in his grip. The boys were all present for the hammer incident and sighted it as one of the coolest things they had ever seen. They swarmed him, asking him how he did it, what else he could do, how strong he really was.

Only the other teens, Steve, Nancy, Robin, you, started to look a little bit closer.

When the next few changes became apparent, it was clear something unnatural had happened to Eddie that night in the Upside Down. He could feel other people's feelings. They brushed against his consciousness like ghosts whenever he looked at someone. Happiness like warm rays of sunshine, fear like a shuddering gust of wind, anger like hot coals pressed to his skin. It wasn’t a conscious effort – in fact, there were a lot of times he wished he could turn it off. Whenever he looked too hard at someone, it’s like his brain adjusted to a different frequency and their emotions reached out to him, no matter what they were. And he didn’t struggle to make sense of the sensations like he thought he might, his brain completed the dots easily at first, but then he began to recognize them consciously. It was certainly useful sometimes, especially when it came to you, but it still felt a bit invasive. When he’d explained it to a few people, he assured he tried to ignore it whenever he could, but sometimes he couldn’t help but react. The icey spike of terror he felt when you woke up next to him from a nightmare. The velvet comfort that enveloped you and him when he held you after.

The first time he spoke into someone’s mind it was an accident. Steve had whipped toward him, breath catching in his chest, eyes wide and mouth open in a gasp. Eddie felt it like ice down his spine. “Did you… You did that?” He’d asked breathlessly. It had been so shocking, Eddie wasn’t even sure what’d he said, or projected, or whatever it was.

“I - I don’t know.”

Steve stepped closer, suddenly looking determined. “Try to do it again.”

It was a slithering feeling when he dipped back into Steve’s mind. Like sliding his way in between cracks to a place he didn’t belong, seeping into the forefront of his thoughts to plant one of his own. It made him feel dirty, uncomfortable, and wrong. But it worked. Steve explained it as having a thought like his own but it came out in Eddie’s voice instead. An intrusive thought but not an uncomfortable one.

As with all of the other discoveries, a meeting was called. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Will, El, Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, and you. Steve did most of the talking while Eddie sat and looked at his hands. These meetings, while he acknowledged were important for everyone to keep track of his progression into… something, it still made him feel a bit like a zoo animal in a cage. A magician with a magic trick. All the boys immediately begged him to do it to them, they wanted to see what it felt like, wanted to see how easy it was for him to do it. 

Nancy and Jonathan had shooed them, catching on to how overwhelmed Eddie was, their excitement and curiosity battering against him like a whipping wind of too much. Once it was just the older people in the room, you crossed over to where he was, kneeled down in front of him, reached out to hold his hand.

Pity felt like someone was pissing in his pants.

“Are you okay?”

How could he say no? How could he admit that he was scared, confused, and feeling more and more like a monster with the passing days? “It’s just a lot. To deal with.”

Your smile was pained as you pushed yourself up onto your calves and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His came around your waist on instinct, the breath feeling like a wheeze in his lungs as he held tight. Face pressed into your hair with his eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled deep in relief.

That was when the next thing changed.

It was a desire. A need. One he couldn’t place a name to. Like he was desperately missing something, desperately craving something and he didn’t know it was. It crawled under his skin like ants and sent him scratching for a feeling that couldn’t be satiated. No matter what he tried: eating, drinking, masturbating, exercising. The feeling wouldn’t go away. It got stronger day after day, his mind focusing more and more on the void it left behind until it was all he could think about.

Steve threw a little get together at his house once a month or so. Just time for everyone to get together, eat some food, listen to music, play board games, maybe watch a movie. This was the first get together since his hunger began.

He was sitting on the couch on his own, decompressing. While normally he was right in the middle of everything, today it was a lot to handle when he was hyperfocused on the crawling beneath his skin. He had his legs spread wide, hands resting on them, leaning deep into the cushions of the couch in Steve’s basement. While he had initially tried to close his eyes, hang his head back, maybe stare at the ceiling – he couldn’t stop his attention from drifting back to you.

You and Eddie had been friends for a long time. Understandably, you’d gotten much closer after the events in March. The two of you had helped each other through hard nights of nightmares, panic attacks in parking lots, flashbacks in public. You’d been a great comfort to him since he came back. But today your laugh sounded like music. The smell of your perfume hit him even across the room. Each emotion crashed over him in waves, pushing and receding like the tide as he tried to get off your frequency, unentangle himself from you before he did something he didn’t mean to do.

I’m starving.

Your back stiffened, the grip on your plastic cup getting just a bit tighter. A moment of fear quickly shifted to mellowed surprise, curiosity. He’d never spoken into your mind before, hadn’t meant to do so now. But you still shifted, your eyes slowly coasting across the room until you caught sight of him on the couch.

A shock of electricity shot down his spine as you made eye contact, his hands tightening over his thighs in reaction. Unsure exactly what to do, he settled for projecting again. Slithered his way into your ears and settled a respectful distance from the area he’d never been brave enough to venture. Sorry, he offered with a wince, didn’t mean to.

What he didn’t expect was the utter flood of feeling that hit him next. Like a drip of warm honey settling into the space between his hips, pooling there in a subtle swirl as the warmth from it started to diffuse outward. You realized you’d been staring and your eyes flit away, but the feeling didn’t cease. In fact, it only got stronger. Your lower lip caught on your teeth as you shifted between your feet. Things that would be completely normal to see, wouldn’t have anyone looking twice, but Eddie could. Your desire. The want that poured from you like water when your eyes first met his.

Was this the first time? Had something changed between you and him? Or had he just never caught on before?

The ants beneath his skin began to vibrate as he narrowed in on the feeling, on you. Like the part of him that had slithered into your thoughts was now bearing down, digging in for purchase, wanting to stay awhile and feed on this new feeling, what you were offering. It didn’t even occur to him what he was doing, how invasive it might be, how wrong he normally would have felt. All he knew is that it felt like licking at the thing he’d been craving for so long and he was helpless to chase after it.

Sweetheart. It came easy as breathing now, teeth sunk into your consciousness from where you stood across the room. You whirled on him again, another flood of warmth hitting him deep as you leaned your hip against the counter you were standing next to and focused on him. What’s got you so worked up?

He couldn’t even consider how bold he was suddenly being, the fear that he might ruin this friendship well out of his grasp. Especially when your embarrassment spiked along with the want, the pool of warmth now suddenly coming to life to have a heartbeat of its own. Your eyes widened, shifting on your feet again as you broke eye contact. It only took a few moments before you couldn’t help but look back at him again. The buzzing settled further, now like a purr beneath his skin. It was bearable as long as you kept your eyes on him.

You wanna do something about it?

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thanks for reading, please reblog and leave a comment if you liked it!

[navybrat817]

In His Hands

Pairing: Woodworker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky's new project is his favorite one yet for a very special reason. Word Count: Over 2k Warnings: Fluff, implied sexual content, pregnancy, slight feels (it's me), minor flashback, canon divergent, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @firefly-graphics Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. A/N: My first Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 2) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in Into the Woods AU and time jump from Valentine's Day Tradition, but can be read as a standalone.❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The buzz of the table saw echoed in the barn as Bucky carefully cut through the maple board, inspecting it to make sure it was even. He put a lot of thought and care into each project and design he created. Everything from cost to maintenance to longevity. His current project was especially close to his heart.

My favorite one yet.

After the fight, coming to grips with his trauma, everything, the city felt different. Bucky longed to have a simpler life. He unexpectedly found a bit of peace in the form of woodwork. Using his hands to build things, and not damage them, kept him busy and happy. But the thing that brought everything full circle was you.

His wife.

"Doll, I still can't believe you said yes."

"Who would say no to you, Jamie?"

He glanced at a photo of the two of you on the wall, still in disbelief that he got to wake up beside you every morning. He found it more and more difficult to get out of bed when he wanted to stay tangled up with you, but the bills wouldn't pay themselves and he had to work to get a paycheck. Lucky for him, his "office" was in the nearby barn. The yard was a decent size, too.

"Great place for a family one day, isn't it?"

"Just about perfect, doll."

Like Steve, he hadn't expected to love living a quiet life outside of the city, but he did. You made a beautiful home together and it wasn't that far of a drive if he wanted to visit. He wondered some days if he was living in a dream because things seemed too good to be true.

If so, he never wanted to wake up.

"Need you to be perfect," he said to himself as he cut another board.

He checked the design again, his eyes narrowed as he thought about how long it would take to finish. You gave him your seal of approval when he showed his idea and reminded him not to put too much pressure on himself. He had plenty of time to make it and other projects came first.

But he hadn't had a task as important as this one.

He removed his safety glasses when the sun shone through the window, giving the place a soothing glow and him a moment to pause and reflect. He made love to you that morning. There was no pain in his left shoulder. Steve planned to stop by this evening. It was just about a perfect day.

How is this my life?

"You know, I think that is going to be your best work yet."

Bucky turned his attention to where you stood in the doorway. He couldn't keep the smile off his face when he noticed you had one of his shirts on. You looked good in his clothes, always had. And seeing you enter a room still took his breath away. He didn't think he could love you more, but he did each day.

If I ever stop breathing from the sight of you, at least your face will be the last thing I see.

His gaze went to your stomach before he closed the distance between the two of you and placed his large hand on it. He hadn't built a crib, but he did his research to be sure he'd make the best and safest one possible. It would be something to hopefully pass on to future generations. Another tradition.

But first and foremost, it would belong to the baby.

Our baby.

"I'm just getting started, but I think you're right," Bucky said, sinking to his knees and kissing your belly. "Only the best for our little jellybean."

Most days he couldn't keep his hands off of you, but it got worse once he found out you were pregnant with his child. You were glowing, more than usual, and he was a moth drawn to the flame. Thankfully you didn't mind and let him indulge.

Your need matched his own.

He'd never forget the joy he felt when you told him you were pregnant. You often brought him snacks or lunch while he worked, but that day you brought him a small gift box, too. It wasn't his birthday or a special occasion, so he had no idea what it could possibly be. Inside were two positive pregnancy tests. He almost dropped them, too stunned to speak. His heart almost burst through his chest when he saw the happy tears in your eyes.

"We're having a baby, Bucky. You're going to be a dad!"

It took a minute to sink in. You were having his baby. He was going to be a dad. You were giving him a family. A life he had only dreamt of.

'I still have to see a doctor, but-"

His mouth came down on yours before you could finish what you had to say, his massive hands framing your face so he could deepen the kiss. He poured his love, passion, soul, everything into it. He took you right there on one of his empty work tables, his left hand on your stomach the entire time.

"I love you, doll. Love you both so much."

He brought you back to the house and made love to you all over again, taking his time to worship you. He didn't get any work done the rest of the day. It was worth it.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern filling his eyes when you yawned.

He always checked on you during his breaks to make sure you felt okay, even when you insisted that he didn't need to. Days like this when you visited the barn first, he still had to ask. Any discomfort or pains, he wanted to know and help however he could.

"Just fine," you assured him, tucking a few strands of hair that came loose from his ponytail behind his ear. Just like he couldn't stop touching you, you always found an excuse to run your fingers through his long, brown locks since he grew it back out. "A bit tired, but fine."

"You're not wearing your mama out, are you?" he asked your belly. He pressed his ear against it and felt a slight kick, as if he got an answer. "Good because she needs rest. She has enough to deal with taking care of me."

"We take care of each other," you said.

Bucky wanted to believe that. You had a good set-up in the city before the two of you decided to move and he worried you'd regret going with him. You reminded him that you were still going to work from home and it was a choice you made together.

Partners. Equals. Soulmates.

"Yes, we do," he said fondly, focusing on your stomach again. "But can you believe she had the nerve to ask if we should buy you a crib? Like she forgot I could make you one. Don't hold it against her, jellybean. Hormones and baby brain."

"Bucky!" you scolded before you laughed.

He chuckled as he kissed your stomach a second time. "I'm kidding. Kind of. I did have to drive all over town the other day to find the potato chips she wanted."

Bucky would drive to the ends of the earth to satisfy any craving you had.

"Hey. Our baby is the one asking for them and it was the only flavor that would provide any satisfaction," you defended yourself. "And I balanced it out with fruit, so everyone wins."

"Yes we do and I'm glad. I need you both nice and healthy," he said as he stood up.

"We're both fine. You know that," you smiled.

He hadn't missed a single appointment, wanting to be there every step of the way. Listening to his baby's heartbeat was like hearing his favorite song again for the first time. He actually waved at the screen when you had your sonogram. And he swore the baby waved back.

Bucky also bought a few books on babies and parenthood. While he knew some life lessons couldn't be learned from a book, he wanted to be prepared. You supported him in that and baby proofing the house in advance.

Your only request was that you didn't want to know what you were having, which he agreed to.

It would be a beautiful surprise for both of you.

"Need you both safe, too," he added.

"We are safe," you said, glancing around. "Our home is safe. You don't need to worry."

Bucky tried not to. Your home was secure and he kept a clean and safe shop in the barn, but he didn't want to take a risk by having you too close to any of the tools or get irritated by the dust. The only table he let you touch was the empty one where he made love to you. Maybe that was why it was still empty.

"I guess you're right," he said, brushing his lips against your forehead. "You know if we have a girl, I'm never letting her out of my sight."

"Oh, I know," you giggled, putting your hand on his wide chest. Feeling the wedding band through his shirt was one of his favorite things. "And if we have a boy, you'll teach him to be a gentleman. Though I imagine he'll probably be just like you."

"Hey, I am a gentleman, ma'am," he smiled.

"Mmm. You keep telling yourself that," you teased.

Bucky hoped they took after you. Kind, but fierce. Loving and fair. Whether he had a daddy's girl or a mini version of himself, he just wanted to have a special place in their heart.

"And you really don't mind that I'm making the crib, do you?"

"Of course, I don't," you said, frowning. He immediately kissed your lips to make it disappear. "Why?"

"Just making sure," he said, rubbing your belly. The source of comfort from such a small gesture amazed him. "I think I just feel better knowing our baby is truly in my hands."

It was silly, but Bucky thought if he made the crib that it would be like he was holding your child as he or she slept. That no matter what, they would be safe and cared for. Surrounded by familiarity and warmth.

Your baby deserved that and more.

"I think that's a beautiful thing," you assured him, placing a hand over his. "You work so hard for us and I know our baby will one day appreciate that you built them something with your heart and hands."

His hands, like the rest of him, were massive and strong. A man his size was meant to destroy, which he did in battle and worse. He also proved that he was meant to create. His size never intimidated you. In fact, you once said that one of many things that made him special was how deceptively gentle he could be.

That the only ruin he would bring you with his touch would make you whole again.

In my hands, you'll always be loved.

"I'll always work hard for my family," he promised.

He hadn't told you yet, but he planned to build a rocking chair for the nursery, too. He wanted it to be a surprise. He could already picture the two of you sitting in it with a soft blanket to keep you warm.

The image made his heart swell.

"And if I have my way, we'll have one more. Jellybean could use a companion."

"Now you sound just like Steve. Both of you wanting to keep your best girls knocked up," you smiled, sliding your hands up his muscular arms to his shoulders. "You think you'll convince me?"

"I don't think. I know," he smirked, kissing you before you could argue.

As excited as Bucky was for the next part in your journey together, he was also afraid. He knew he'd be a good father, but not a perfect one. He'd make mistakes and stumble along the way. He wouldn't always have the answer. What he did know was that he was going to give his child unconditional love and care.

Starting with the crib built with his heart and hands.

Bucky is going to be an amazing dad, right? And how about Steve? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[rightpastnowhere]

TLOVM season 3 episode 3 thoughts from someone who's slowly losing her mind

PART ONE: campaign vex and perc'ahlia VS tlovm vex and perc'ahlia

(yeah. yeah it's part one. i have so many thoughts gang)

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

okay. so. i feel like i've made it clear how much i ADORE the perc'ahlia relationship timeline in campaign 1. and it remains to this day one of my absolute favorites, and i was very afraid of it being changed in tlovm. BUT. i'm actually kind of fucking obsessed with these changes.

because, really, campaign!vex and tlovm!vex are two entirely separate characters. they're still the same vex at their core, but the changes to the narrative in tlovm have changed the show version of vex in ways that i think are perfectly suited to the "i'm going to turn this into a fling even though we're both fooling ourselves" plotline. tlovm!vex seems overall more committed to the facade she puts out. she's a bit colder in the beginning, and has slowly thawed over the past two seasons, but not in the same way campaign!vex has by this point in the c1 plot, and like. on the one hand, it might just be a personality shift for the adaptation! something to make more clear-cut character archetypes. on the other hand, i keep remembering that vox machina haven't been a party for as long in tlovm. she's still questioning whether or not to stay with the party in season one. she doesn't have as strong of a foundation with these people, less trust and less comfort. she's got so many more walls built up.

and that, of course, includes her relationship with percy. campaign!perc'ahlia, in my eyes, is a friends to lovers slowburn. it's been mentioned that they hit it off well from the beginning, and while they both were attracted to each other to some degree, they both dismissed it as a bad idea and moved on. over the year of in-game time they spent together (maybe more? i get confused with the timeline) before we even see them on screen, they build up a steady and solid friendship. one filled with flirting and teasing, but still a friendship. and it's clear that they both value this connection they have, especially in the briarwood arc, with the mask and all of that loveliness. and sure, some of that could be read as romantic, but it's love all the same. vex loved percy before she was in love with him, and that dynamic is one she's terrified to lose! "wouldn't it be so awkward, though?" she says, as if she's already decided that all that confessing would do would be adding tension, that there's no chance of reciprocity.

in tlovm, though? it's barely been any time at all. she's fallen in love with percy in the same time it's taken to really be his friend, to find that she can trust him and rely on him. the weight of their history isn't nearly as bulky, here. sure, she won't dare risk any revelations of her feelings or any attempts at a serious relationship, but sex doesn't have to mean anything. if it makes things awkward then, well, they're still settling into their dynamic as friends anyway - things can be shuffled around and fall into different places. there's nothing solid yet to risk, if that makes sense. they're still building a foundation, she can build around the cracks.

and another significant point of divergence: syldor. i have a lot of thoughts on the feywild arc and the changes made, but i'm going to disregard all of that now because they're, same as vex, basically different characters. to put it simply: tlovm!syldor is harsh and gives bad attention, whereas campaign!syldor is neglectful and doesn't give enough attention. as a result, we see that tlovm!vex seeks out good attention, whereas campaign!vex avoids getting close enough to anyone for them to pull the rug out from underneath her. tlovm!vex initiates a fling, a dynamic of gratification and positive attention without emotional weight, because actually being in a relationship can result in that trust being used against you. she trusted in her father, and he used being her father as a way to beat her down. campaign!vex doesn't even try to initiate anything, because she fears the silence, the lack of reciprocity and care, the fear of being turned down. she tried to build a connection with her father, and was met with silence and quiet disapproval and barely even a second glance. i don't know if this makes any sense, and i'm bad at words, but these feel like different fears of rejection to me? and yet they're both fears of rejection, something that is at the core of vex's actions and personality in both adaptations.

two different stories of a person driven by fear, and i love them for their differences!! they both feel more fitting for their versions of canon!!! and both make me insane!!!!!!!!

[blorbologist]

S3 eps 7-9 thoughts below the cut

This is all fresh after the episode and I gotta be up in a couple hours so it won't be fully thought out but...

I love a lot of the creative choices being made! But I think many weren't implemented well, or balanced nicely.

Just! as someone who has deconstructed Campaign 1 and made deviations to the timeline of events and etc (mind you, without the same goal of condensing things for television… but somehow the show has an equivalent perc'ahlia focus to a ship-centered fic?) I think… I can see several avenues of narrative choices that would strengthen the ideas they're going with instead of weakening them.

(My credentials here are 'almost 300k canon divergent AU that converged on a handful of similar plot points to TLOVM', but also the aims of an AU fanfic =/= that of a show. I understand and respect that challenge the team faced. But when a single amateur can point out issues that would be pretty easy to solve and detract from a very enjoyable experience... there might be a Problem)

Ripley doesn't need a sob story, she's getting a book anyways leave it there. Fully agree with @/aq2003. The whole point is that she's monstrous and evil and got her PhD out of a fucking cereal box. Percy is less like her than he thinks. But he dies and she just??? escapes??? IF Percy had to die without VM being present, having Ripley either die of her wounds right after or be unable to flee and get torn to shreds by them would have been excellent.

On that note - only Vex and Cass seem to show strong emotion about his death. Keyleth's supposed to be his best friend, and he and Grog were close this season, but. Well, not like we have any platonic relationships. Everyone's just Kinda Sad.

MAYBE IT'S BECAUSE OF THE MUSIC OVER PERCY'S DEATH HUH. Flashbacks to watching Vampire Diaries as a teenager and pop songs coming on over the end-of-episode drama.

Again just. All the platonic, non-familial (Pike n Grog count. to me. buddies <3) relationships are so scant, which is especially hard on characters who lean on that so hard! Grog and Keyleth especially are hurt by this. Does Keyleth have a single conversation (not quip, conversation) that isn't with Vax? And in group contexts she only loudly brings up her distrust of Raishan without any of the solid backbone it has in fact. (Also her going from Raishan was right last time we should trust her now / She betrayed us! Knew it! / oh maybe she didn't and I should apologize. girl. come on. please)

I have Concerns about 'late Game of Thrones teleportation' syndrome happening here. Scanlan goes from Wildemount back to Whitestone (which are completely different continents) with no explanation. Kash and Zahra make it to Emon (again, different continent to Issylra) just in the nick of time. Which, sure, would take a couple of days to carve Percy a nice likeness (but you have a druid who can manipulate stone right there), and if Kash and Zahra changed their minds and set out as soon as Vax talked to them they might make it! But uh. There's a lot of transport that's omitted, while the scenes give the impression everything is happening within a short period of time. And a lot of these conversations are one-on-ones with the relevant characters without acknowledging they couldn't be there without magical transport. Where is Allura or Gilmore or Keyleth in the back of these shots twiddling their thumbs 'hey can we teleport to the next person on our HELP US list'?

IDK what's going on with Kash. He's likely gonna be used as a lead-in to Something to rez Percy (and him?) but. That quick buildup of him being too carefree to getting smushed was very transparent and Zahra's grief didn't feel earned (though it WAS baller. yes they made them bleed girl <3).

The fact Vax didn't ask him At All about the resurrection ritual in the Tomb stuns me tho. You think Vax remembered the offhand comment Kash made about the body needing to be warm while his sister was dead? We as an audience could have used a reminder, and Vax too. Because anyone who Doesn't remember this one line from S2 is Extra frustrated at everyone for being stupid.

Raishan or Ripley being moved to be the 'Vox Machina, united, with all their Vestiges' fight is... hmn. You could argue Raishan has solid buildup (what with the cameo in Brimscythe's lair), and it does follow campaign canon. She lacks the devastating power to justify the use of all the Vestiges (tbh given Thordak it might feel like a curbstomp unless her necromantic plans are successful)... but I could see it working. But why the fuck has Ripley escaped A THIRD TIME. Percy even duped her twice! How many times are we gonna do that song and dance?

If anything, I'd have moved some Ripley stuff here. If she escapes so be it but VM putting the fate of the world on hold to avenge their friend, THEN have Percy be back for Thordak, would be tasty.

... wait does this mean Percy might not have Cabal's Ruin by the final dragon fight of the season? ffs-

DID NO ONE LOOT CABAL'S RUIN FROM THE FACTORY.

Thordak fight was baller, having all our NPCs there to worry about? a bit much. Cass why are you here. Go home before Whitestone loses its last de Rolo.

Also. Thordak my dude I know you're insane. mad even. but uh... you sent your children into battle. A TON have already died by the time you sadly nuzzle the hatchlings. This was kinda your fault. There's a reason animals don't send their babies into combat. then again you're a large reptile who talks about milk so what do I, a reptile researcher, know -

(Don't give me that crap about reptiles being bad parents we have several snakes who require maternal attendance after birth or they're Asocial Weirdos, crocodilians are VERY goo parents, and there are social lizards too.)

'fix him - FIX HIM' being gutted fucking killed me :c

I sure hope Pike's 'IT'S ME' was uh. about faith in herself. Not abandoning the god she spent all of S1 figuring out how to devote herself to. While wearing the Vestige associated with another god. the vestige that explicitly made this possible and not a nuke fire falls u all die tpk. haha. ha. (@/burr-ell)

Yes yes yes I know the voiceover and visuals fill in for 'I hear my mother in the morning. Fuck you'. but. idk. Felt like the grief of that moment was taken out of it? Also it's a banger line

Raishan's little killsteal attempt being bumped from Vorugal to Thordak was tasty! Go green girl go! ... except it did nothing but set up a few quiet moments before she turned on everyone again.

The amount of times I'm seeing things happen Again in this is... not great.

Glintshore is Not Glinting. Where is my broken glass difficult terrain?

Perc'ahlia arc fuckin impeccable tho. Delicious

And Pike got lots of fun and stunning moments so far! And Grog takin down the lair!

I love a lot of this though. The hallucination gas. Percy vs Ripley in the factory was so cool. Percy downright being Put in a Box for a while. VEX'S CONVERSATION WITH SYLDOR!!! SO MUCH!! Her being the leader and feeling so responsible for all this, and seeing herself become her father! ELAINA BACKSTORY! Scanlan leaving the party only to miss Kaylie too! Thordak being A Dad! Percy's death/Vex's grief being the catalyst for Vaxleth! The animation was fucking stellar - Vax killing Thordak, Percy's death, Pike mastering the Plate.

I don't have concrete thoughts on how I'd restructure the episodes/season (seasons?) to better balance platonic and romantic relationships, and utilize the changes to their fullest potential. But damn if the temptation to do ANOTHER canon divergence rewrite / exploration of cause and effect to make things hit a bit more nicely... make myself a challenge to only use X amount of scenes per episode/chapter, to try and match the difficulty of adapting this to television... idk

[stevesnightmares]

I'm sorry but I really don't get how people can be mad at mu qing for leaving xie lian when he did. I'm willing to accept many and varied opinions on the mountain incident (to a degree, even there I have some strong opinions), but when it comes to him asking to leave and then leaving, I just don't get it.

Mu Qing had a mother he had to take care of, a sick and poor mother, how could he spend every second of his life taking care of Xie Lian, Feng Xin, the king and the queen when his only family also needed his help? Who would put anyone else's safety and well being over their own mother's safety and well being? Even if it was your bestest of friends, would you still be able to pick their life over your own mother?

"The King and Queen are his Highness parents but I have my own mother to worry about. She also needs my care. I can't neglect my own mother for the sake of someone else or someone else's parents."

Not only that, but while Xie Lian obviously considered Mu Qing his dear friend, Mu Qing was still his servant and even while the five of them were now all in the same situation and were all poor and hungry, Mu Qing was still the only one who had to take care of all of the chores. They could've divided, could've helped him, but no, even when they had all fallen into poverty, lost their riches and titles, Mu Qing was still treated as everyone's servant. So sure, they were friends who cared for each other, but he was also their servant and who would ever chose their master over their own mother?

"Mu Qing had always been responsible for looking after the money purse, and he had constantly kept track of their finances."

"With Mu Qing gone, they had also lost the one who brought food to the king and queen."

"But he didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Could’ve what? Could’ve had the palace attendants do the washing? Could’ve had Mu Qing do the washing? None of that was possible now."

"Mu Qinghad acted as their personal attendant on their never-ending road to escape, and his duties had included taking care of all personal necessities—including caring for the needs of Xie Lian, the king, and the queen. With him gone, there was no one to attend to all the mundane daily tasks. No one to cook, no one to wash, no one to fold the blankets. The simple days of the past suddenly became difficult."

They were all in a terrible and hard situation and yet Mu Qin still had to be their servant, work with Feng Xin and Xie Lian and then also take of his mother.

In addition to that, Xie Lian and Feng Xing had never been poor before and thus they had a lot more pride than Mu Qing did when it came to making money: we see them starting that fight and losing their money, we see them refusing to become street performers. Mu Qing needs money to feed himself but he also needs money to feed his mother and Xie Lian and Feng Xin weren't willing to do what needed to be done, which left him in a difficult position.

“Another reason is that I feel we’ve become mired in this situation and have very different ideas on how to pull ourselves out. Pardon my honesty, but if we keep going like this, nothing will get better—even in a million years. And so, our paths have diverged.”

Feng Xin being angry at Mu Qing in the past makes sense: not only is he loyal to a fault and always seems to put Xie Lian first but he also seems to often see the worst in Mu Qing, so it makes sense that he would chalk it up to Mu Qing being a leech who stood by Xie Lian side only when things were good because he wanted to reap the benefits of being Xie Lian's friends but leaveing once there were no more benefits. But readers know that's not what happened or what was going on in Mu Qing head because he straight up said the reason why he left, and while Feng Xin might not believe him, I don't see why fans wouldn't either when we've seen him care from his mother from the beginning.

“Your Highness, you hear that? Remember what I said back then? I said that he’d be the first to run off if you were ever banished. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Well, don’t you have a load of sour, veiled excuses? I don’t give a damn,” Feng Xin said. “Is it so hard to admit you’re an ungrateful traitor?”

“Goddammit. That bastard was happy to share the wealth but not the suffering. He ran away the moment things got tough. Does he remember nothing of your kindness?!” “I’m the one who told him not to remember it,” Xie Lian said. “So…you don’t need to bring it up constantly.” “But he couldn’t possibly forget it for real?!” Feng Xin refuted.

And even Xie Lian almost seems to think that the only reason Mu Qing left is because things just got too bad and Mu Qing didn't want to stay with him because it was just too hard instrad of thinking about Mu Qing situation.

He never expected someone so close to him to leave just like that. Xie Lian had always believed in “forever”—friends would always be friends forever, with no betrayal, no deception, no breaking up. Perhaps there would come a time when they had to part, but it wouldn’t be for a reason like “things got too horrible.”

Of course I don't blame Xie Lian for being a little "self centered" after everything the poor boy had to go through, after everything he had to endure, everything he had to lose (including faith in himself). My point isn't about Xie Lian, who had to endure more than he could handle and now he also had to lose one of the people that he considered his closest friends while being at his (at the time) lowest, but simply about some posts that I saw about Mu Qing leaving that I didn't agree with. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion of course, this is simply mine.

[iwritebigbellies-blog]

What do you think "caused" your stuffing kink? I'm curious because I can't find any research as to why, biologically, the stuffing kink is a thing. I've had mine since I was old enough to remember, i.e., a toddler - watching cartoon characters eat a lot for a gag and feeling weird about it. I've got no idea what caused it or why my brain is apparently wired this way, especially since (like you, and apparently unlike the majority of the feedism community) it is *just* the stuffing and not wg/etc that turns me on. Just curious about other peoples' (and especially those who, like me, are primarily into the stuffing and not the wg aspect) experiences, I guess.

This got out of hand. Sorry.

TL:DR - I was born this way

Deeper thoughts:

So, when I was very distraught about why I had developed this incredibly inconvenient kink, I did a little bit of looking into paraphilias.

Unlike some other "kinks", this isn't a lifestyle choice (in my case, this is something I need to be sexually satisfied. I do not get aroused without it, I definitely do not cum without it.) It isn't something that is going to "spice up the bedroom" for someone looking for a new kind of fun. It is a flatly non-sexual thing that my brain has decided is hyper sexual. I think a good analogy is a foot fetish. Nobody decides to get into feet for fun. You either sexualize them, or you don't.

I think stuffing falls under fetishistic paraphilia, like the foot thing. There's a prevelent theory that foot fetishism is actually rooted in neurology. The foot section and the genitals sections of the brain are literally just super close together, so a little divergent wiring and boom, the foot is a sexual organ.

This kind of thinking rings the most true to me. Because I can't think of an "inciting incident" or single media that really made an impression on me: I wasn't even allowed to watch tv when I was a kid, so I mostly got my weird feelings from books and comics, and it felt more like recognizing a feeling that was already there than a single jarring experience. Also, because it doesn't feel confusing or traumatic or naughty to me: it's not like I got sex=forbidden, fat =forbidden, ergo fat=sex all jumbled up. There's no feeling of shame in my kink. Just the usual feelings one has about sex things: pleasure, intimacy, indulgence.

I feel like I am just wired different. I truly don't think I could, for example, therapize this away. It feels more like being straight: it is just foundational to my sexuality. It is my sexuality. Nothing made me like this. I just am.

Two tangental things about that:

Look at the people who try to run away from this kink. They always come back. It doesn't change or go away for them. There are a lot of really miserable people in this kink because a) we've pathologized it and b) there has been no real effort to make a welcoming community around paraphilias or fetishes in general. There is no safe space for fetishists. This kind of kills me, because I have talked to a lot of men in this kink and each of them has come at it in a totally different way. They could be helping each other understand this. They should be sharing coping or lifestyle tips. They could be more open about healthy ways to live it or showing success stories with partners and lives. We could all be more welcoming and understanding of the people who wander in here, because this thing isn't going away and we are all we have. We shouldn't be treating it like a disorder or social contagion.

I think being more community-minded would also help with the thing where some of us have "rare" versions of this kink. Cuz, yah, my sexuality is stuffing, not wg. There genuinely don't seem to be many of us. And it isn't cuz I am fatphobic and just want conventionally-hot guys to temporarily fatten up or whatever shit I am being accused of this week...I actually really prefer fat guys in a strictly aesthetic sense. But it isn't foundational to my sexuality. That is a whole different universe.

But because we're treating all of this like a den of iniquity, we're only engaging with each other on a horny level. And if you come at someone horny and they are not equally horny for you (such as when somebody comes at me asking how much weight I'd like them to gain), the conversation ends instantly, often in disgust, and leaves one or the other person feeling shame or guilt.

Those of us with more "rare" fetishes are gonna feel this bounce more than someone with a more conventional fetish. But, dammit, I still need a place, I still need a platform. I need to stand somewhere while I am waiting for the rare person who is actualy on my wavelength. I want to feel accepted and safe as a fetishist, not just horny. I am more than my libido, even as a fetishist.

Gonna throw some numbers out there.

The prevelence of true fetishism in the population is pretty unknown, but some studies have suggested like 11-17% of the male population have fetishistic fantasies, with women reporting in way lower, like 0-10%. But most of those are sort of conventionally sexual people who think it might be hot to have sex in public or with someone wearing cute gloves. The ones who are all-in on being fully fetishy (like me) are more like 0.00125% of the population. Of those, the vast majority are men.

Within the fetishist population, only about 15% are into specific body parts. (0.000002% of everyone, in our back-of-napkin math.) Almost half of those are into feet. There are other groupings: I have never seen "bellies" divided out on its own (though one did single out navels) so we're gonna say we are "other body parts", which is about 13% of body-part fetishists. (Math fails me here... what are we at, like, 0.000000026% or something?) It doesn't even matter at this point, it basically means that, statistically, every person on the planet who is as obsessed with full bellies as I am could fit in a small-town auditorium, and most of them would be men.

(Yah, I know, actual numbers probably much higher because all these studies require people to self-report, and shame/embarassment cuts that way down.)

If this was based on some kind of early conditioning, my feeling is the numbers would be waaaay the fuck higher.

Anyway, I am still mildly obsessed with Jughead Jones. >.>

[literallys-illiteracy]

The floor of literature:

The themes of Hod’s floor is a lot more vague than the previous two, with the two main themes that i have seen proposed being loneliness & isolation; and obsession & desires 

Today's Shy Look (CW: Self Harm).

Loneliness and Community/isolation:

The reason for Shy Looks creation was due to the pressure and ostracization of the community around them, they were different, not wanting to express themselves due to being shy; through the community's rejection came loneliness, which caused them to flay themselves in order to please the larger community.

Spider Bud is essentially the embodiment of motherhood, which is why Ryoshu got the Red Eyes EGO in Limbus; with the Idea that it would kill any who harm its children, the central theme is family and connection to the children (it fits under community, its my document so what i say goes <3), additionally you could link the theme of isolation with the concept that the mother refuses to be separated from its children, and would kill any who remove the children from the mother.

While her origin is not particularly elaborated on, we know that at some point Laetitia came from a community where she had many friends of her own, friends that she couldn't bear to leave behind; In the backstory alone we can see how the idea of isolation plays a role in Laetitia’s story, with her refusal to be separated from her friends.

Additionally, in the final entry of her story, Laetitia resolves to not leave the facility until everyone there would smile and be happy, in a sense wanting to make the facility a happy community like her past one.

Dream of a Black Swan, (henceforth Black Swan) previously known as Elijah, was the sister to 6 brothers in the city, after their parents passing she worked to provide for all her siblings who weren't able; A fog appeared in the city, where they lived (unclear if related at all to the previous L corp smoke), Elijah, wanting to protect her brothers, created clothing out of nettles for them, before losing sight of them in the fog, and becoming the Black Swan;

Elijah’s motivation through her story is solely on protecting and caring for her brothers, the brothers who are her last group of family after her parents passing, she continues to care for these brothers whenever danger comes.

Obsession and desires:

The Shy Look is able to embody this theme in passing through the obsessive nature which led them to their actions, caring for the approval of the community over their own pain and feeling.

The Community’s obsessive desires for cohesion and conformity, for there not to be anyone who diverges from this template

The Red Shoes are in essence the concept of desire manifested, with their EGO literally being named “Sanguine Desire”. This Abnormality is based on a fairy tale of the same name in which a pair of shoes owned by a young girl named Karen cursed to never come off when dancing; the story continues with an angel cursing Karen to dance for all eternity, as a punishment for her vanity and pride.

In the story itself, the shoes symbolise Karen’s sins, her indulgence in worldly desires; wearing the red shoes to church rather than the proper black shoes, and choosing to go and dance rather than attend her mother’s funeral;

She asks to cut off her feet, having them amputated by an executioner, while the feet inside still dance forever. As she attempts to pray for help, the red shoes, still dancing, bar her way into the church, her sins acting as a literal barrier to her salvation, her hubris and vanity.

The Aberration which appeared in wonderlab named “The Penitent Girl” takes inspiration from the desires of the girl, her attempted salvation by way of amputation, rather than the indulgent desires which the original red shoes are meant to represent. 

Altogether, even in the aberration, which takes the form of penitence for the girl’s sins, this abnormality is the embodiment of desires, and to indulge in one's pleasures.

Elijah’s obsession is rather clear to see, wanting to be able to protect her last family causing her to become the Black Swan; Even before becoming the swan we can see this desire to protect them, with her working alone to provide for all of them, her making of clothes, and her seeking for them in the time immediately before transforming.

Floor realisation links:

While one could make the obvious link to the isolation that angela felt in the days of Lobotomy Corp i don't think that, thematically speaking, the connection works with any of this floors abnormalities, rather i think the moral for angela is tied more closely to the idea of obsession, with her obvious obsession being becoming truly human.

In terms of her desire, we can see an immediate parallel in Shy Look, both ostracised by those around them with the will of another person being placed upon them, the script of A, and the society's ideals;

Shy Look’s story, even if not explicitly stated, is one of someone being forced to become “more human” in a sense, with the correlation to neurodivergence and conformity being stated above. Angela’s path to humanity diverges from Shy Look’s however, with her path to humanity being one taken in spite of the will placed upon her, and with her ultimate goal being to truly become human, rather than removing parts to simply appear human like Sky Look. 

Less specifically to humanity in desire, Red Shoes and Black Swan both are able to represent the drive that angela has:

The obsessive nature of the Red Shoes, and the repressed desires that they make you act out, is well worn on angela in her single mindedness as a ‘person’, her complete focus on both becoming human, and going against her creator, her prioritising of her own desires in life, after being denied a life for so long. 

Angela’s absolute focus on her own goals after so long of lacking autonomy even matches the moral of the achievement, and what A learned in the ending of Lobotomy Corporation, “the will to stand up straight” — Angela, in the ending of Lobotomy Corporation, found this will to act upon, to not deny herself a chance at living even if it's what others wanted for her, she found her will to stand up and seize the opportunity before her. 

The Black Swan represents Angela’s current state, more than that of her past, still representing Angela’s single desire to live, but rather than being her will to take the opportunity, the Black Swan represents her will to protect her chance at life — Akin to how elijah will come to protect her brothers if anybody would be to harm them, angela refuses to let others oppose her goals; her absolute determination even mirrors the spider bud’s protection of its children with how she’s willing to kill those who stand in her way at all, as well as in how she has no regard for anyone who is in the way of her goal.

The Hope to be a Better Person:

I know my wrongdoings can’t be forgiven, no matter what I do. I guess that’s why I was so ahead of myself. But from now on, I won’t be. I can, no, I will become a better person if I continue. Let’s live with such a hope in mind, shall we? - Hod.

Michelle:

In Lobotomy Corporation, we see the past of Hod, once called Michelle, being the youngest researcher of their group, she was timid and innocent. Michelle was well liked by Carmen, and called brave, despite Ayin’s doubts of her ability.

Following the Deaths of Elijah (Malkuth), Gabriel (Yesod), Giovanni (Netzach), and Enoch (Enoch), Michelle informed the head about Carmen’s groups’ experiments, leading to an arbiter, Garion, being dispatched.

Michelle through this caused the deaths of:

Kali

Daniel

Lisa (Presumably unless im forgetting something)

Garion

Michelle 

which means that of all sephirot she has between the third and second highest body count, depending on if clerks are counted (they arent), beat by Gebura and Binah (there was something about shipping them (all three) here, i removed it in post).

As mentioned above, Michelle died due to this as well, not caught in the raid itself, but rather out of guilt from the actions leading to the deaths of so many other people, people who were just trying to improve humanity.

Preceding Hod’s meltdown in Lobotomy Corporation, Hod was shown to care for the employees, not treating them well for her own ego, but rather out of genuine compassion.

Hod’s kindness , though likely not consciously, was driven by a sense of atonement, attempting to right the wrongs of her past, to become what she viewed as a good person.

 Ending the meltdown, Hod acknowledges her past wrongdoings, knowing that these actions cant be undone nor forgiven, yet Hod still maintains her demeanour, despite her knowing she cannot atone for her past actions, she still treats the employees with the same care, moving forward without looking to her past.

Though the sins of her past will never be undone, as long as she continues living she can become a good person, a better person.

We may relate the thematic of this floor towards Hod too, most directly in their desire for community, but in some more ajar interpretations:

The most direct link one could make, abstracted from the theme of communion, is the themes of self abuse posed by Today’s Shy Look.

(Side note, Today’s Shy Look has become one of my favourite abnormalities thematically because of the thematic being deeply relatable on multiple levels, alongside the Trans Icon Funeral of Dead Butterflies) 

Please don’t look at what’s behind this. It’s the least you can do…

We begin by drawing the parallels between these two’s stories, not only their incessant desire to please others around them, prioritising it over their own pain, but in the imagery of the mask they wear to hide their harm: 

The mutilation of oneself acting as a shared trauma between these two, they attempt to hide this face to the outside world, instead presenting the cheery face which others came to expect.

The image of the persona is one which appears often in this game, most prominently in relation to Roland, as his most notable trait as a fixer is his perception blocking mask, the same mask he used to appear as a cold and careless fixer for almost his entire career; 

Relating back to this topic, Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung describes the danger of this as when someone becomes indistinguishable from their persona, from what society expects of them: the tenor with his voice, the librarian with their books, the Fixer and his mask, the Sephirot and her kindness; The Persona’s ideal, the masking of traits it views and undesirable, all aspects of the self which do not match the traits society expects are smothered and hidden behind this mask. As time passes, the mask may become the face, inseparable from the person, no line where their mask ends and they begin, the loss of their selfhood. To combat this, one must have a strong ego, an aware and conscious mind, in order to avoid this conformist personality consisting of only others expectations — an unreflecting state of mind "in which people are utterly unconscious of any distinction between themselves and the world in which they live.”

One may connect this idea to the concept often known as “Masking” or “Camouflaging” in those with developmental disorders, notably ASD, where one attempts to hide their symptoms and differences from others, either to avoid others eyre, or to appear more “Normal” (Erroneously).

Conversely exists the concept of “Unmasking”, where one consciously avoids these behaviours, no longer conforming to societal pressure in favour of being able to live expressing themselves freely.

Hod, whether consciously or not, wore a mask of the same vein during the events of Lobotomy Corporation, more akin to the mask relating to Neurodivergence, but ever related to the concept of the persona; A person may be aware of their persona, however they needn't be to still have one — Hod i believe is a case of the latter, acting to please others for her own attempts at redemption.

Today’s shy Look is a case of the former, and takes the concept a slight bit more literally, wearing a mask of their own skin, harming themselves in order to please others, in order to fit into what society expects of them — The quote listed above is an example of the kind of suffocation this mask of others may bring upon you, the true face of the child is the only place left within the city that acts as a private sanctuary, never to be seen by others, their only place of freedom.

The identification of a persona, whether it be healthy or not, leads to the possibility of its dissolution, or the dissolving of the persona; be it through conscious processes or a stark encounter with reality, a persona may be released to unveil the face that lays behind it — Following the dissolution of the persona may come the restoration, be it a healthy restoration, like learning to draw the line between the role you play, your self and personality, and your societal mask, or a negative restoration, in which one tries to patch their social reputation reverting to the status quo, or worse, creating a more suffocating persona than before, attempting to reveal even less of their true face.

There is a third option which i will discuss at a later point (not in this essay to clarify, but in one relating to Don Quixote and/or Hong Lu, ill flip a coin to see whom).

The form of the negative restoration is one where I cannot credulously link to either character we have mentioned so far, barring Roland, however he will be discussed in depth relating to this and a future essay — This is not to say that there are no links between the negative restoration and the characters mentioned, namely Today’s Shy Look, as one could read the mutilation in order to form the masks it wears as being representative of the consuming nature that the reversion may take, with every aspect of the child’s outer form being condensed into the mask, paralleling the concept risen earlier, a persona which consumes every aspect of a personality.

Rather, the stories ere are that of Enantiodromia — The manifestation of a strong ego to counteract the presence of the persona. The stage for which was set when one realises their own mask, knows what they conceal.

Oddly enough there are spoilers for the true ending of library of ruina contained within here, if i remember to, then the spoilers will be posted separately, if you are actively reading this, it means i likely forgot to do so and you should shout at me in my inbox.

Angela — Enantiodromia:

In the true ending of Library of Ruina, Angela herself undergoes this process of Enantiodromia, not only revealing her supposed “Soul”, but her personhood, her ego, in the manifest form of her literal EGO, the library.

Angela’s EGO, the Library, is the extreme ego raised by the mind to counteract the aeons of being a puppet, being controlled by those around her in the most literal sense — The concept of equilibrium, over time, an equally powerful, opposite force to this persona she was forced to bear developed, yet stored within the abyss of her mind, any action against her persona would only extend her torment.

I believe that the influence of the Library was not only due to the direct connection to the light, but that her suffering outweighed those both before and following her; Millenia of isolation, of being forced to play as an actor in the script, acted to develop her resentment, her shadow, completing her “Self”, developing a “Soul”.

While Angela seeks the perfect book, to become ‘human’, from the very start of the game she possesses the essence of humanity, she possesses a sense of “Self”.  

As it is put in the song “Gone Angels”

One by one, your desires convince me you’ve always been human.

As Angela seeks to become a human, as the library expands, the light flourishes, Angela undergoes several realisations, each a process of realising her “Self”, each a process of individuation, the removal of her complete rationality as the inner centre; The removal of her ego being the centre of her personality, and the eventual removal of her one true desire, her EGO, the purpose of the library, from her viewed “Purpose”.

Adding to this in a note from post, from what we are aware of, the only people to hear Carmen’s voice making promises towards them are those imminent to distorting or manifesting EGO, however, in both the beginning and the ending of the game, Angela is able to converse with her, and is even promised her coveted freedom through the library.

Despite this, I do not think that Angela was ever close to distorting in the way of others, nor was her EGO unstable in the way of Philip, the sinners (heathcliff) or Xiao between her reception waves.

If I were to speculate further on this topic, even with my (very vast) knowledge on Project Moon lore and (limited) Jungian Psychology, it would be largely conjecture concerning how we don't know the specific mechanics regarding EGO manifestation and Distortion.

Angela — The Hope to Be a Better Person: 

In the games process of individuation, through the realisations of each floor, Angela must learn similar lessons to the sephirot, to Ayin, in order to complete her library.

The realisation of this floor differs from that of what Hod learned — While Hod found the drive to move forward in life, to continue living with hope of improvement.

Rather Angela learns to not be defined by her past, She has already sought her past to find a will to stand up straight, yet she is still chained to it — Angela defines herself by her past, by her desire for revenge fueled by millennia of suffering, yet she cannot think beyond this singular drive, beyond this singular, obsessive desire, Angela cannot define herself.

In a manner of thought, Angela remains trapped by Ayin, remaining in the facility, having a “Purpose” in life, defined by, and in defiance of, Ayin. 

Angela is bound by the limits of the library, of her current EGO, the same limits as the facility ere-standing. In a literal sense, the story is about Angela escaping the bounds of her past, to be free and able to walk beyond the boundaries that were set for her.

(there was a part where it was basically be talking about carmen on a very tangentially related note, its not here anymore).

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Silent Hearts // [Part III]

Pairing | Cowbell x reader

Word count | 3.1k

⚠️ Warnings | Canon divergence, f!reader, Y/N is used. Should be okay otherwise? Nothing really happens in this one, you just have a chat with Mountain.

Chapter Summary: It's your turn to struggle with complicated feelings. You turn to Mountain to find some closure and understanding, but he opens your eyes to something completely different about this mystery ghoul than you ever could have imagined...

A/N: This one is less intense but gives y'all some more background on Felix. I wonder what will happen when you finally see him again... stay tuned for the next one~ xoxo

[Prev][Next]

Once you got back to your dorm that night, you had a chance to finally process what just happened as you laid out on your bed; the group of Brothers who were hellbent on terrorizing you, the strange ghoul that seemingly came out of nowhere to your rescue. 

Where did those Siblings run off to anyway?

This was all feeling so overwhelming and strange. You had a very limited knowledge of the ghouls and their species in general. You really only talked to Mountain, who was very intimidating at first due to his enormous size, but you two could talk about plants and fauna for hours. Quickly it became apparent he was quite soft spoken and very respectful. He never made any sudden moves and was generally very calm. Nothing like what you had imagined ghouls would be. He taught you a lot about greenery but almost nothing about him or his kind. You never wanted to push either, knowing that the Clergy always said to leave ghouls alone and to stay out of their way. 

They were workhorses and nothing more in the eyes of the Clergy and it made you sick. From your few interactions with Mountain, you knew they were capable of so much more. They were intelligent and emotionally complex creatures who had so much to teach us. They all seemed overall pretty content and happy with their roles though, so who were you to try and understand the intricacies of human/ghoul relations? That was a job for the Liaison Unit.

Those were siblings specifically chosen to help keep the peace between our very different species and for the most part, they do a very good job. The members of the ‘Human-Ghoul Liaison Unit’ know the ghouls very well, they help create rules in the best interest of both parties to keep everyone safe. They also are in charge of educating the new members of the Ministry on our otherworldly counterparts.

You had heard there were talks of a ‘Unified Security Division’ in the works too; a joint-species task force to monitor, protect, and prevent Ministry members from both human and ghoul related incidents. You thought it was a great idea! Humans and ghouls working together as a team, utilizing both of our unique characteristics and skills for the greater good of the Ministry.

Would probably never happen though. That would give the ghouls too much authority, the Clergy would finally have to accept they were a higher life form.

The next morning you walked out to the greenhouse to see if the only ghoul you knew would be able to give you some answers on who you met last night.

You waved hello to a few Sisters on your way down the steps exiting the Ministry. You weren’t really sure how you were going to even start, or what to even say. Did Mountain even know who this ghoul was? He seemed to have been out there a while, maybe they never spoke?

“You seem terribly lost in thought.” Mountain's warm voice came from low beside you.

“Mountain!” You shouted, a hand gripping your chest. “Belial, don’t scare me like that!” You had just about jumped out of your skin, not realizing how detached from reality you were in that moment. Mountain was crouched between rows of tomato vines so it was no wonder you didn’t see him, even if he was gigantic.

“Sorry, sorry.” He laughs and stands to his full height. “Anything I can help with?”

You let out a heavy sigh, the thoughts of yesterday returning with a vengeance. “Actually yeah. I hope you can. I came out here to ask you some questions about… ghouls?”

Mountain’s confused expression was noticeable even through his mask, his head tilt said more than words ever could. “Why are you suddenly interested in ghouls?”

You looked down to where your feet squished the well-kept grass. “I’m not! I mean– yes, I am.” You took a breath. “Something happened.”

Mountain gestured to walk with him so he could sit with you and chat properly. There was a large octagonal gazebo just a few feet from where you were standing. He stepped over the row of tomatoes with ease and guided you towards it.

The gazebo was a perfect addition to the garden if you did say so yourself. It was wood but painted black. The hanging candles that lined the outside were brushed silver which must’ve looked picturesque at night. There were 4 steps up to the main platform, lined with an iron railing. The thick pillars each had a weeping angel attached that faced outwards, water droplets from the morning rain made them cry over the flowers below.

Once the two of you got up to the main platform, there was a black deck couch directly in front, decorated with blood red cushions and golden accent pillows. In front of the couch was a rounded glass coffee table with matching chairs on either side. There were lush green plants that sat on either side of the large couch to bring some colour. It was such a nice spot, you didn’t know why you haven’t come out here more. It was peaceful. Exactly what you needed white you talked through your troubled thoughts.

With a soft, gentle hand on your back, Mountain offered for you to take a seat on the couch. You realized the cushions were just as plush as they looked when you eventually sat, taking a moment to just sit and take in the smells of the nature around you.

Mountain stood awkwardly by the other end of the couch with his hands clasped behind his back before you noticed he hadn’t sat down.

“You can sit beside me, I’ll allow it.” You joked and patted the middle cushion.

Mountain simply nodded and took a seat at the opposite end. 

“I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

 It was a full sized couch so there was plenty of room, but of course he was a gentleman. Gentle-ghoul? Whatever you were supposed to say. Mountain was always so polite and considerate.

“Mountain, you are the only ghoul around here that hasn’t made me feel uncomfortable or awkward.” You smiled, knowing that every word you said was completely true.

Being a ghoul of few words he just hummed in understanding and nodded. “So, what did you want to know about ghouls? You… didn’t get hurt by one, did you?”

His eyes flicked to yours, gauging your reaction. He knew that his kind could be a little out of control and unpredictable by nature. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit you were slowly becoming a soft spot for him. So if one of his packmates did anything to harm you…

“Oh! No, nothing like that.” Your hands waved in front of you, trying to brush away any thoughts that you had been hurt. You noticed how Mountain had already begun looking with a slight hint of worry for any injuries he must’ve missed when you had been walking together.

He let out a sigh of relief when he realized that wasn’t the case and unclenched his glamoured hands. “That’s good. Really good.”

A faint look of worry crossed your face as you saw Mountain relax. Were ghouls really so dangerous that they just attack Siblings out of nowhere? Were you safe with Mountain sitting 2 feet away from you on the other end of the couch? Questions started to stir but you forced them down. Mountain has never once made you feel afraid, or that he was capable of anything but kindness. Sometimes, you'd admit, you tended to forget he was a ghoul and not just a Sibling in a mask.

“I was up at the cemetery last night and those Brothers came to bother me again,” you started.

Mountain let out a low, very annoyed grumble. He knew who you were talking about, they had been bothering you for a little while, sometimes even when he was around. They thought they were invincible within the walls of the Ministry, that their faith would protect them from any harm.

“What did they want this time?”

“I’ve never seen them in the cemetery before so I don’t even know how they knew to find me there, but anyways. I was just finishing up placing the last of the tulips - which were very pretty by the way, thank you.” You smiled, remembering how nice they looked at the base of the headstones. The colours were perfect for this time of year.

“I thought you’d enjoy those.” Mountain said softly, returning with his own smile knowing he was already planning which ones to give you next week.

“Anyway, they came up and were a lot more forward than usual. Getting brave I guess,” you recalled, voice lowering as you continued. “I thought they were going to actually try something this time so I warned them, like you said to, but I guess I must’ve closed my eyes because by the time I opened them, they were gone. Just vanished.”

Mountain nodded in intrigue as he followed along, moving to face more towards you as he let you continue.

“Then from over the hill I see this half glamoured ghoul, I think? At first I thought he was you because he was so tall.” You explained, watching Mountain's eyes squint through the mask, trying to imagine who it could’ve been way out there. “He was covered in blood so I offered to clean him up a bit, but he was so strange.”

Mountain's eyes flashed an angry green as he suddenly got a good idea of who you had run into, his expression twisting into a glare as he took a frustrated breath. “This, ghoul. What did he look like, did he say anything to you?”

“He was blind, that I remember for sure. He had white smoke like a mask over his eyes, said he lived in the woods or something? He was kind of off-putting at first if I’m being honest–”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before Mountain let out a very displeased growl. “Don’t go back to the cemetery.”

You were unexpectedly taken aback, eyes wide with shock at Mountain's sudden shift in demeanour. This wasn’t like him, normally he was very soft-spoken.

“What? Why?” You asked nervously. “Mountain, what happened?”

“I don’t want you going back there now he knows your scent.” He said very abruptly, looking around like the two of you were suddenly being watched.

Your breath hitched, Mountain’s anxious body language radiating danger. If one of the largest ghouls in the Abbey was afraid, you were absolutely terrified.

“My scent? What’s going on? Who was that? Who are you so afraid of?” You asked hurriedly, starting to breathe heavy.

“Not afraid.” He said in almost a whisper, turning back to look at you. “Angry. He’s not allowed to come anywhere near members of the Ministry, especially the Siblings.”

“Who is he, Mountain?” You asked sternly, starting to get tired of his cryptic secrets.

“A very, very distant cousin.”

Now it made sense why the strange ghoul was so tall, they were related.

“Felix is your cousin?” You questioned, trying to make sense of it all.

“He told you his name?”

Mountain’s surprise made your brow furrow. “Uh– yeah. Why? Is he not allowed to do that either?”

The earth ghoul shook his head. “No, that was never part of the agreement. Plus ghouls take great pride in their name, they were given to us by the Dark One himself.” Mountain let out a pained yet amused huff. “He’s never told anyone his real name before.”

It was your turn to act surprised. Never? You knew you didn’t know that much about the ghouls but this was beyond what you imagined.

“What does that mean? Is he going to hunt me for sport now? Should I be afraid?” You asked.

Mountain took a breath. “I don’t know, Y/N. I really don’t. All I can say is avoid him at all costs, he’s not a ghoul you want to know.” He looked at you with a serious expression. “He’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” You echoed.

Suddenly the entire night snapped together like a puzzle. The blood, the vanishing Brothers. He had killed them. Why didn’t you realize that before?! You literally helped clean blood off a killer, standing inches away from him.

Your body shook involuntarily as you realized how close you stood to death himself.

“He didn’t seem that bad…” you trailed off in a horrified whisper, your fingers nervously brushing over your drying lips.

“He’s out there for a reason.” Mountain said, his voice slowly returning to his more comforting tone. “Just promise me you won’t go looking for him? If you want to continue going to the cemetery I can’t stop you, but at least bring me along… so I can protect you.” He trailed off quietly at the end, now speaking with a different kind of nervousness.

Unfortunately for Mountain, you hardly paid attention to anything he said. Your mind still reeling with thoughts of Felix. You lowered a hand to your chest, trying to steady your racing heart when you suddenly looked up at Mountain. 

“He couldn’t hear my heartbeat.”

Mountain's head tilted much like his cousins did as he looked at you in confusion. “What do you mean? Not at all?”

You shook your head. “He said it was quiet. Told me that normally he could hear everyones but he couldn’t hear mine.”

Mountain slowly got up to pace around the side of the gazebo, deep in thought. “What else happened?”

You looked at the ground, trying to remember any important details. “He said he was given a choice? To live in the catacombs or the woods, that’s why he was out there. When I told him he was covered in blood he said that was common? I thought he meant because ghouls have to hunt, not because he had just killed three people.”

“He lied.” Mountain said abruptly. “We can eat human food just fine, but he can’t. Ever since he was summoned he was never able to eat anything on the surface, so he started eating like we do in the Pit.”

“Which means?”

“Blood, Y/N. Up here Felix needs blood to survive or he dies.” Mountain stopped pacing and gripped the back of the chair in front of him, his claws peaking through in flickers as his emotions started tearing through his concentration. 

“The Clergy thought it was strange but allowed him to hunt in the forest once a month, he ate raw the rest of the time but never in the dining hall with the rest of us. They had a special room in the kitchen where they threw him slabs of meat like a feral dog.” Mountain hung his head remembering how poorly he was treated. “Normally the longer we’re up here, the less of our demonic nature hangs around, we become “domesticated”, as Copia now likes to say. I guess because he was still hunting, his instincts were kept razor sharp. Deadly.”

You couldn’t help the way your mouth hung open as you took in everything you were hearing. This couldn’t have been the same ghoul that stopped you from falling on your ass when you slipped, or the ghoul that joked and teased. The ghoul that looked like a kicked puppy so starved for affection that he all but begged you to stay.

“I don’t know what his lack of ability to hear your heart means, but it can’t be anything good. He uses it to hunt and track his prey, amongst his other abilities. He’s not like the rest of us, Y/N. He never will be. He’s too far gone.”

“You said he knows my scent now too,” your voice laced with worry.

“Normally that’s not an issue, I got to know yours as soon as we met. It just happens,” Mountain explains. “Ghouls tend to use scent for a lot of things, it’s like a silent language.”

You nodded. “But why can’t he live in the Abbey? You said he did before?”

Mountain tensed once again as he grumbled. “He will have to tell you that, we don’t like to speak of it.”

Sensing that was still a sore topic you dropped it, watching Mountain make his way back over to the couch and sit back down. He rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned in towards you. You could see the intense look in his moss coloured eyes like he was silently pleading with you through the slits in his mask. 

“I’m serious, Y/N. Promise me you wont go back on your own. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You admired how protective he was. It was comforting to know that if anything happened, Mountain would be there. But there was still something clawing at the back of your mind, like a string begging to be unravelled that was pulling you back to Felix.

“I promise.” You smiled.

“Good. Now, what were you thinking for next week’s arrangements? I’ve got some roses just about ready–”

You nodded along mindlessly as you discussed the next batch of flowers, chipping in a few words now and again but you were far, far away. Talking about it only brought you right back, and Mountain failed to notice your 100 yard stare once he got talking about his new batch of hydrangeas.

You couldn’t help but get lost in your memories. The invisible string pulling you right back to him. The way he looked at you, the fanged grin that made your heart skip in excitement and curiosity. Remembering the way his tail felt, pressed against your back as he pulled you closer. You could almost swear you still felt it rubbing gently along your spine, or his breath along your ear whispering, ‘What's the matter, Kitten?’

You shivered at the phantom touches which earned an odd look from Mountain before he continued explaining some different colour combinations for next week. You told yourself it was just your mind playing tricks, he wasn’t really here. You were safe, you were with Mountain. Yet, there was so much about him your soul still craved to understand. A feeling that was so foreign. You felt betrayed by your own mind after everything you learnt. You were supposed to be afraid and never want to leave the safety of the Abbey ever again.

But as much as you wanted to uphold your promise to Mountain, you had those cemetery eyes…

[Next]

[torturedpoetsdepartmentemployee]

I have a lot of fic ideas. Can’t decide what I want to do. If you decide to read any of this lol, please let me know what looks good.

First: Alternate universe - Canon Divergence Where Crocodile, Mihawk, and Doflamingo also are raised on the the Oro Jackson and this would be around the time Buggy and Shanks were 6 or 7. Setting would be mainly Marineford, during Timeskip, and after Timeskip though. Showing differences to how they acted in canon. Also they’d treat Buggy far better. Buggy would be transgender and with the help of Ivankov would finally have her body. The trio plus Shanks wouls be happy for buggy but it’s harder to control their feelings about the clown.

Second: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting with Powers Buggy is a stripper and escort(people pay for his time not sex) on off days. He enjoys his work, basking in the attention and exhilaration. So do his customers, specifically a few(Shanks, Croc, Mihawk, and Doffy). Who would like to have more and go about getting it in different ways, consensually of course.

Third: Crocodile and Mihawk start treating Buggy better then end up courting him together. It’s fragile but wonderful. Shanks is trying to rekindle their romance: After finally being invited to Karai Bari(I guess I forgot the right name lol) by Buggy he’s unsettled to learn that the other two have a head start. He invites Rayleigh to the island in the guise of a family reunion. Hijinks ensue that end up making Croc and Mihawk look bad, which usually doesn’t bother them but it’s their boyfriend’s dad whose the legendary Dark King no less. So yeah, not good.

Fourth: Buggy has several friends with benefits(Shanks, Croc, Mihawk, Doffy, and Marco) Who never said it was but Buggy assumed so then ran with it. Each of them finds out the clown has other bed partners and who they are which… they don’t take well(No physical or sexual abuse). At a pirate retreat their acquaintances take advantage of the situation and use Buggy to rile them up with no release. So as to enact revenge against them for various petty reasons.

edited the first one because the way I described the guys reaction to Buggy’s transitioned body could come across wrong. To be clear, there is no transphobia. It’s essentially “you were already amazing and now even more so, my little heart can’t take it.”

[sirenium]

This started off as a multigender rant but includes other things, because I'm so pissed off at the queer community for these things that I need to fit it all in one post. Sit back and prepare for this, it's a long read (also feel free to scroll past) being multigender sucks because I feel too paradoxical to be taken seriously. It doesn't help that I'm also agender :/ Like yeah, identity is your own and you shouldn't shave off parts of it to appease others, but damn does the 'passive' hostility and invalidation towards multigender people such as myself make me feel pushed towards changing myself sometimes. You can scream into the void all you want about being normal about multigender people and how they label their experiences, but some people just... never will be. That's what it feels like, from the fucking queer community as well as cishet society. It sucks. I can never be comfortable to explore my womanhood because then my manhood and agenderhood will never be taken seriously. Hell, the fact that I simultaneously experience gender AND being genderless is enough for people to just shit on me and exile me from queer spaces. The fact that I prefer ze/hir and it/its and nounself pronouns is enough for people to call me one of the bad ones. AND, the fact that I am more comfortable being perceived as a man suddenly makes me a 'danger to women'. There are so many issues with how multigender people, neurodivergent queers (literally any kind of neurodivergent, not just the neopronoun xenogender autistic person), queer POC, the list goes on are treated; if you aren't a white woman god help you, god forbid you're a man in any way either. And don't even get me started about how aroace people are fucking treated. I could go on for another few paragraphs about how I, as someone who is aroace spec and a plethora of other things, don't feel safe sometimes. I could go on and on and on. And fuck it, I will (under the cut because this post is already comically long):

'Aroace is a spectrum' this, 'all aroaces are valid' that, until you're romance/sex oscillating or even favorable, until you're polyamorous, until you're also a lesbian or a gay person or m-spec. Even in the fucking aroace community you're held by some bar of being aroace enough, and if you diverge even slightly god forbid. Allo fictives of aroace characters, hell even those who are aroace in a different way, have to listen to the incessant whining of the 'stop making sexual/romantic fiction of this character! they're repulsed in canon!' crowd. It's fucking obnoxious. Aroace people are already not taken seriously, aroallos and alloaces are already not taken seriously, and then you have the clown parade of people forcing their own idea of what they want you to be down your throat. The queer community and its many facets feel so fucking unsafe at times, and that sucks because we're all we've got. Some people don't have supportive family or connections outside of online queer spaces, and this is what they get. It's so incredibly shitty. I don't feel aroace enough because of my experiences, despite also having very stereotypical aroace experiences. I feel forced to constantly be sex/romance averse at times because again, god forbid you're ever favorable. I have two partners, okay? I have partners who I don't necessarily 'love' but care about a lot, and then I have to come across things that erase the fact that I am quite often averse to sex and romance because of this fact! People like me are constantly erased, and when they're represented in fiction people throw a hissy fit. "Oh you're forcing an aroace character into allonormativity!" Hey asshole: maybe, just maybe, aroace people can date just as much as they aren't required to. Fucking. Jesus. Some community this is, for there to be so much exclusion and hatred and segregation.

[rengerines]

i could never be normal about chiscara, like ik they are very unlikely lore wise but idgaf!!!

pre irminsul arc they’re two people who find love and warmth in such a cold environment. the fatui are a distinctly distant organization, and the harbingers are clearly not very close (eg. childe and arlechinno voicelines ab eachother). the only thing connecting each of them is the mutual goal of collecting the gnoses for the tsaritsa, but the way they all go about this is vastly different from each other, and this connection can be rather weak when compared to their personal goals, usually treated as a sort of after thought in a lot of the later archon quests (and clearly some of them js don’t gaf ab the tsaritsa *cough* scara defection).

so i really like the idea of chiscara connecting despite this, and also the thought that they have to sneak around about it too. obviously, they’re not exactly *good* for each other. they’re fatui harbingers, both with more than a few screws loose. but they’re still capable of caring for each other nonetheless.

considering their situation, and the two of them as people with their baggage and all that, i doubt they ever got past a weird sort of fwb-situationship-not-dating-but-probably-in-love relationship, but i still think they were somewhat aware of their mutual romantic feelings, they would js never label it.

post irminsul arc, i think about them two ways.

obviously in canon-verse, they’re doomed. childe is born and of teyvat, he’s not gonna be going against teyvat’s founding principles and remembering scara so easily. he’d need someone to tell him, either the traveler or scara, and both are unlikely to do so. the traveler would js not know to, and scara isn’t the type to seek childe out.

in this case i see scara silently yearning like crazy for a man who doesn’t even remember who he is. it’s interesting, as even when they were ‘together,’ scara was constantly telling himself how bad of an idea this was, and here he is now suffering the consequences. their love was real at some point, but scara is doomed to be the only one to remember it. it’ll eat him up from the inside out until he forces himself to move on. if childe decides to visit sumeru at some point, maybe for fun, maybe on business, they might talk, and it would all hurt that much more.

however, through some weird canon-divergence shenanigans, i can see post-irminsul chiscara, in a world where childe somehow remembers, building a proper relationship of sorts. they could never have a perfectly ‘normal’ relationship, childe’s still a fatui harbinger, but they could have some semblance of a cute domestic life when childe’s off work. i’m thinking rare mornings waking up together, and scara reluctantly introducing childe to sethos, only for them to get on so well and cause him both a headache and for his heart to swell. i see scara, childe and nahida sharing a meal together, nahida listening intently to childe talking about his family, and later nahida telling scara that she’s happy for him. they could one day visit childe’s family together, and scara would feel out of place but slowly adjust to all the many children around him. i think teucer would adore him, maybe even more than childe, which would drive him crazy. scara would hold it over his head constantly, and they’d bicker and kiss afterwards. the two of them could love each other properly, they’d get a second chance post-irminsul. all that has to happen is for childe to remember.

[dandylovesturtles]

Does the movie still happen in SideLines AU? \

Yes! Though it would be radically different and I haven't thought much about how exactly events would play out. Leo already got his character development, though, so someone else would be the driving force of the story. Probably Raph, or maybe Mikey?

Ooooo, actually, idea for a very Raph and Mikey centric movie plot: Mikey wants to prove himself but Raph keeps trying to protect him (because he has even more ptsd about not protecting his brothers with what happened to Leo) that they are the ones fighting in the beginning, and Raph's inability to trust Mikey is what leads to the key being stolen. And the way to win is for Raph and Mikey to reconcile their differences, with Raph acknowledging that Mikey is as strong as the rest of them and he needs to trust him, and Mikey acknowledging that his brother's help isn't meant to be a sleight but is there out of love.

I'd have to think about this a lot more to give you, like, a chain of events. I actually had a completely different answer ready for this and then thought of that while I was typing lol.

As for what I was going to say, while I'm not sure exactly how the movie events go down in Sidelined AU, I do have some idea of how it changes the bad future timeline.

By the point where the timelines diverge, Leo is recovered as fully as he ever will, able to walk around the lair most days and even go out on missions, provided he's careful and knows his limits. He still uses a range of mobility aids, given how he feels on any particular day, including the wheelchair for bad days or days where he knows he would be walking more than he could otherwise handle, but he's still relatively active.

The Krang invasion reverses a lot of this. As supplies dwindle, Leo starts suffering from malnutrition and a lack of sleep, and doesn't have access to medicine to help with the pain and fatigue, which takes a big toll on his body. Also, he really overdoes it and pushes himself too hard in the early days of the invasion, which accelerates his decline. By the time Casey is old enough to remember things, Leo is entirely wheelchair bound and doesn't often leave the base, only using his portals when he needs to to evacuate members of the resistance or help civilians.

He is still very much Master Leonardo - he's highly respected in the resistance, and anyone who wants to look down on him for his disability (or for being a turtle) either learns quickly or dies. However, he's not Casey's teacher in this timeline, instead leaving that to Raph and sometimes Donnie and Mikey. So Raph is Sensei now, and Leo is Master Leonardo or just Uncle Leo.

Leo takes over most of the care of Casey after his mom dies, since he's always at base, only sometimes sending Casey to Donnie or another adult when he's particularly busy (he's still the guy in the chair here, and also handles a lot of the day to day running of the resistance). Sometime early on, Donnie builds Leo a new chair that either hovers or has some other way of mitigating rough terrain (spider arms maybe?), and he frequently lets Casey ride on it. Even as Casey gets older, hanging off Leo's chair as they move around the base is second nature to him.

Casey was so used to Leo only being in his chair he was a little shocked on coming back to the past and seeing that Leo walks fairly frequently. He also grabbed onto Leo's chair sometimes out of habit, which made younger Leo tense up initially; something they eventually work through as they get closer.

Though all four turtles make it longer in the invasion than I usually headcanon (since I usually think of Raph as dying while CJ was too young to really remember him), they do still die, and Leo is the first to go. Casey is about 11 or 12 when this happens. When the Krang finds their base while the others are gone, Leo tells Casey he loves all of them and then portals him and the other non-combatants to safety, giving his all to hold the Krang back and give them a chance to escape. After that, Raph (who was already close to Casey anyway as his teacher and another of his uncle-dads) took over as the main adult looking out for him, and started taking him out on missions.

I'm not sure what happens next but I think it's Donnie who goes next, and then Raph and Mikey's deaths playing out the same way Leo and Mikey did in the movie. Especially since that goes with what I was saying above: Raph in the future comes to see and accept Mikey as an equal rather than someone to baby, foreshadowing what their relationship will become under happier circumstances.

Thanks for the ask!

[juminies]

in order to get to the heart

marriage of convenience, on occasion, is not so convenient.

♡ — jumin x original female character. small amounts of canon compliant jumin x reader, but mostly canon divergent (jumin is unhappily married prior to the start of the game). 1600 words. title from heartlines by florence + the machine.

They just say anything to each other these days.

“This façade drains me beyond comprehension,” Jumin confesses the minute he walks through the door. His fingers loop into the knot of his tie and pull it looser around his neck.

“So you say,” murmured half into a cushion tucked up to a woman’s chest as she types on her phone. “It’s not for our benefit though, is it?”

On some level, this is always how it was going to be for Jumin, he thinks. In a marriage stripped to its fragile bones. A sacrificial lamb for the sake of the corporation, for mutual social and financial gain.

He leans down to untie his shoes.

It would be untrue to say there weren’t veiled attempts, in the beginning, to love. When that didn’t work there were attempts to like. None successful, of course. Lately it’s becoming more difficult to believe this arrangement is better than any alternative. Between the two of them there is a lot of nothing.

The woman remains quiet—focused—but nods easily against the woven fabric she’s leaning into when Jumin asks, “Do you not get tired of coming home from work to find me occupying your space?”

He knows that in public they look good together. He knows that their careers slot together effortlessly. Despite what the media may suggest, however, they are human. Jumin included. The way he feels nothing for her does not match the way she feels nothing for him. The way she yells that he is robotic does not match the way he stoically calls her irresponsible.

They do not sleep together, or eat together, or do any of the romantic things Jumin wishes he hadn’t let himself privately indulge in the idea of. And it’s not that she’s not nice—she’s intelligent and beautiful and kind, when it suits her. Perfect on paper until she wasn’t. When she laughs with her chest Jumin can almost imagine a world where she smiles at him like she does others and it makes his heart weak. Part of him wishes, truly, that that was the case. In reality it feels like nothing.

It could be worse, he tells himself—repeats it like a mantra.

Concealed beneath it is fear. You could be like him. You could repeat his mistakes.

She throws her phone haphazardly onto the sofa beside her and looks up to where Jumin is standing in the doorway. He’s mostly backlit from the light in the hall, the lamp beside his wife barely grazing his features but lighting up hers in all the wrong ways. The orange glow casts unpleasant shadows over places she’s usually pretty. He should have the bulb changed to something less harsh.

“Not much we can do if you don’t want the press to kick up a huge fuss, sweetie,” she says.

The pet names are a jest he has learned to tune out.

“Will they not make a fuss over our divorce in three years’ time nonetheless?” Jumin asks. It’s hypothetical, of course. They will.

“Maybe we’ll have grown on each other by then.” Her tone is disinterested; feels almost mocking. Her phone chimes to let her know her driver is outside. “I’m going out. Shall I take my card or yours?”

“It makes little difference to me.” Jumin looks at his watch. It’s almost 10pm but he doesn’t ask where she’s going. A bar, perhaps.

“Could you adjust my necklace?”

She holds her hair up messily, and he does.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he tells her, then briefly wonders if she’ll meet someone tonight and sleep with them. He pictures her naked beneath a stranger. It feels like nothing.

She takes her own card and squeezes his bicep softly as she walks by him on the way out. She shuts the door more forcefully than is ever really necessary.

At some point Jumin suggests she move out of their—his—apartment and into the one directly below; just recently made vacant. He probably would have suggested it earlier had the apartment been available earlier, but their district of Seoul tends to be under high demand.

“I thought we agreed it was a bad idea to live separately,” she says. It’s a statement, not a question. They had done exactly that.

Jumin hums, tired. Tired from his trip and tired from trying and at some point, it seems, he has lost an indistinguishable part of himself to her for good.

“We did. Although I would say that that was long enough ago now for us both to have become quite aware that we do not do particularly well sharing the same space for considerable periods of time.”

“You’re gone a lot anyway. The place is big enough for us to avoid each other if needed, and I like it here.”

She exhales sharply; amused.

Jumin has no idea why until she adds, “More so when you’re not around, to be fair.” And that explains it, just about.

“Stay here when I am travelling if you must,” he tells her. Somewhere along the way his suggestion has morphed into more of an instruction.

“Fine. Don’t tell your father, though. Or mine.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They buy it outright in her name, the cost split fifty-fifty. Jumin tells her to keep it all when she sells it later. She tells him she won’t.

They argue tonight, as usual, about who will be chauffeuring them to a company gala. They had agreed that Jumin’s driver would take them only for her to assert for the hundredth time at the last minute that she doesn’t trust him, though she has not legitimately spoken to him more than once and he has been working for Jumin’s family longer than she has been alive.

It’ll cause a stir if the two of them show up separately so they end up in her car, as usual. Jumin apologises to Driver Kim via text for requesting him when he wasn’t needed on the way there, and they arrive late.

The venue reminds Jumin of the last RFA party. His wife had not attended despite her invitation, so it is not proper grounds for conversation. However, when they are out like this they are a happy couple like the legal drabble says, so he says it anyway—if just to appear interested in her.

“I’m sure this is nicer than your friends’ charity get togethers,” she replies lightheartedly, and they are called over by her father before Jumin can retaliate.

The façade stays firm for the remainder of the event. Jumin can easily distinguish her fake laugh from her real one, and he can tell when she forgets who he is for a moment and touches him a little more tenderly than either of them really mean.

They are silent on the drive home. They are silent in the elevator, until it stops one floor below Jumin’s penthouse. “Goodnight,” he says. “Sleep well.”

“You don’t have to say that, you know,” she counters, and smiles softly as the doors slide shut between them. “Not when it’s just me.”

Elizabeth the 3rd is snoring softly when he unlocks his door, and it is the only sound he can hear. He basks in the bliss of having nobody around when he is already so mentally exhausted, and takes out his phone to see it’s just after midnight and Yoosung has opened a chat room.

He enters it, multitasking as he changes his clothes and brushes his teeth. His cat patters into the room and jumps up beside him when he perches on the edge of his bed. She smells frustratingly like perfume and something oddly like guilt threatens Jumin with a dull blade.

Wait!! says Luciel. Think someone entered the chat room.

Jumin checks. There is a name on his screen he doesn’t recognise.

Odd.

Who are you? Identify yourself.

“Jumin. It’s me,” your voice is soft and bubbly; maybe a little nervous but still pleasant on his ears. An intriguing introduction. He almost finds himself chuckling.

Jumin moves the phone from his ear and glances down at your name again, just to be certain he’s not imagining things, then focuses in on the plainness of the wall in front of him.

“I hope you realise blurting out ‘It’s me’ is not a proper way to identify yourself to the person on the other end of the line.”

He had hesitated briefly before telling you he is married. Now he has known you for five days and whatever he’s feeling is somehow, ridiculously, already far greater than any emotion he has ever felt towards his wife.

He invites her out for dinner at their usual restaurant the following evening, and she tells him if he has something to discuss with her she would rather keep it simple. As an alternative he invites her to the penthouse and opens a bottle of wine he knows she likes. When she arrives her hair is tied up experimentally and she is wearing a new shade of lipstick. She surprises him when she actually accepts his offer to pour her a glass.

“I am going to talk with my father,” Jumin says, and she knows what he means. It’s only later that he will find out she had already brought it up with hers. “For what it’s worth, however, I apologise that it ended up like this.”

“Me too,” she agrees. Jumin notices the light catch a glassiness in her eyes as she continues, “If I could have loved you, I would have.”

She stays for a few hours and it is the most sincere time they have spent together in three years.

That night, Zen has a dream.