#AND THEN TUMBLR MADE AN UPDATE WHERE I HAD TO SIGN IN AND I WAS SO SAD

[starry-toya]

man i miss being like 12 years old and googling dabi tumblr every day to go geek out over the fanart i couldnt rb because i was too scared to make an account

[kryptonitejelly]

Grease & Tequila - a Flyboy One-shot

Top Gun: Maverick - Jake Seresin x Reader - part of the Flyboy!Universe

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Genre: romance; fluff; angst; best friends to lovers

Warnings:  general hangman being hangman; sexual tension; general cursing; will contain mentions of a break up / previous relationship; general use of pet names; fem!reader; pining; general naval / flying inaccuracies; alcohol; being drunk.

Length: One-shot

Summary: Set 5 months pre the Flyboy!era. The one where Jake gets the call that you and Dan have broken up and he has to be on the next plane to New York, now.

Flyboy | Mini-Series Masterlist

(not fully updated as of today, but if you follow / search the tag “flyboy universe” / “flyboy” / “flyboy fic” / “flyboy!jake” on my tumblr you’ll find recent asks / headcannons / blurbs!)

A/N: It’s been a while, and this isn’t all that exciting, but I think it definitely (I hope) sets the scene for Flyboy and helps everything click into place.

DISCLAIMER: all work posted here is purely fanfiction; it does not in any way purport to be an accurate representation of real life or the general workings of any institution.

“Lieutenant,” Admiral Craig’s voice booms out as Jake opens the door to his office. The Admiral waits for Jake to shut the door completely before he starts up again, “I got your last minute absence request.”

“That is correct, Sir,” Jake nods, as he comes to a stand in front of the Admiral’s desk. He stands with his feet hip width apart, hands behind his back, eyes meeting the older man’s.

“Everything okay?” The Admiral asks, his gaze steady on Jake’s. It was rare for a last minute absence request to come across his desk, which meant that when they did - it was usually pressing.

“Just something I need to attend to, Sir.” Jake responds, his mask not slipping, but the Admiral hears the weight behind his words. There is a silence pause between the two men, before the Admiral picks up his pen, signing the bottom of the two sheets of paper before him with a flourish. He was never one to refuse these requests as long as he deemed them legitimate, but he made it a point of looking the requestor in the eye to make his own assessment of the situation before approving them. He didn’t need to know the why, unless it was volunteered by the requestor him/herself, but he needed to know that it wasn’t being abused and Jake Seresin, for all his ego and cockiness, was a dedicated solider. He wouldn’t ask, unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Approved,” the Admiral says simply before passing one of the sheets to Jake. Jake’s mask doesn’t crack, but the Admiral sees a twitch of relief as Jake remembers how to breathe, “Godspeed.”

“Thank you Sir.”

-

Jake shifts irritably in his seat as he waits for boarding to be complete. He had reached out to Grandma Doris’ personal assistant once he had gotten off the phone with you, even before he had submitted his flight request, his text to her was just one sentence, twelve words long - I need to be on the next flight to New York, please. He usually would not have bothered her, but this - this was a pressing situation, he just had to get on that plane. She had, the blessing that she was, gotten hold of two flight options for him, the next flight to New York, and the next next as a backup, both in first class no less, with a simple request to let her know when he needed a flight ticket back from New York.

“May I offer you a hot towel, Mr Seresin?” The stewardess stops beside his seat. Jake shakes his head, offering her a polite half smile.

“No thank you.”

“How about some nuts, or maybe a drink?” She tries again.

“How long more do you think it’ll be till take-off?” Jake’s question is abrupt and she is quiet for a second, slightly taken a back. He isn’t rude, but is, obviously antsy.

“I think another twenty minutes Mr Seresin,” she says as she follows his gaze out of the window.

“Thanks,” is all she gets from Jake as he continues to stare out of the window beside him as if willing take-off to come faster.

-

“Anything else?” The cashier of the fried chicken shop just around the corner from your apartment building asks Jake as he rings up the total on the till.

“That’s all, thanks.” Jake says as he slides his card out of his wallet before tapping it against the screen of the payment machine which is proffered to him.

“Here’s your receipt, please wait on the right.” Jake slides his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans before stepping towards the right. The tequila which he had picked up on his way out of the airport is in his backpack, the shape of the bottle pressed against his back, a reminder that he was just that much closer to what he came to New York for.

-

The ride up the elevators to your apartment is excruciatingly slow, and Jake taps his foot against the ground the whole way up. He hadn’t had to buzz you to let him up, managing instead to catch a couple on their way out and slip into the building - something which he made a mental note of in the back of his mind - perhaps it was time to convince you to move to somewhere with a doorman or concierge for increased safety.

The bottle of tequila is now in one of his hands, and the bag of greasy fried chicken and fries in his other - his remedy for your broken heart. Alcohol, fast food, and well, him. His eyes are fixed on the flashing red numbers as if willing the elevator to go faster. It stops with a ding, and Jake all but runs out.

-

He hears you before he sees you, hears faint noises and shuffling, the unlocking of a separate bolt and a lock before you pull open the door an inch to peer out past the safety chain. His eyes meet yours, and sees your eyes, glassy and red rimmed, no doubt from crying meet yours. The doors shuts fully for a second or two as you undo the safety chain before it is pulled open fully.

Jake takes you in the second the open door reveals you - the red tip of your noise, hair on top of your head in a loose, messy up do, body clad in an oversized t shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants and he feels a funny tug in his chest.

“I thought you might need this,” he says as he holds up the items in his hands. You hold his gaze for a second more, and then it happens, the glossiness in your eyes turn into tears which spill over onto your cheeks as you take a step forward, throwing your arms around Jake’s body, burying your face in his chest. Jake hears, but also feels the sobs that wrack your body against his front and he is quite sure that in that moment, the tug in his chest feels like a earth shattering crack.

“I got you,” he says gruffly, bringing both his hands down around you, while still holding onto both items. His words only intensify the sobs coming from you and all Jake can do is draw you closer.

-

“I’ve never liked him,” Jake snorts as he watches you down yet another shot of tequila. You are both sitting around the coffee table in the floor of your living room, greasy chicken and fries demolished, the open bottle of tequila three quarters gone - with more damage having been exacted on the bottle by you than by Jake. Jake isn’t drunk, but he definitely isn’t sober, which means that neither are you.

“He’s an asshole,” you half shout, your words slurring from the alcohol as you let your self sag backwards, leaning against the sofa before you let yourself droop sideways, your head coming to rest on Jake’s shoulder. Jake shifts, moving his arm around you. It allows you to scoot further into his side, your face turning slightly to rest against the side of his chest. You breathe in his scent, the faint smell of soap, laundry detergent and airplane along with his own natural musk, which wraps around you like home, and you feel Jake’s fingers running themselves soothingly along your arm..

“Say the word, I’ll beat him to a pulp,” Jake says, dropping the side of his cheek against the top of your head, his finger squeezing the top of your arm gently. His tone is light, joking almost - but yet not really. Nevertheless, the thought of Dan facing off against Jake makes you chuckle lowly. Dan was no slob himself, he maintained a decent level of fitness - occasional runs, regular visits to the gym, but he might as well have been one compared to Jake. Dan worked out for aesthetics, but next to Jake, who had worked out for functionality all his life, football, the Navy, Dan paled greatly in comparison.

“He’ll never stand a chance,” you say, amused as you close your eyes. Your head has started to get impossibly heavy, your tongue feels thick from the copious amounts of alcohol running through your system, and you let your head rest heavier on Jake’s chest.

“That’s the idea,” is what Jake says and it makes you giggle this time as you sink yourself further into Jake’s hold, seeking out a comforting, physical closeness. Jake can feel yourself pressing into him.

“C’mere,” he mutters, as the arm he has around you tightens. You feel movement, and Jake is reaching across your body, managing to slip an arm under your legs to pull you onto his lap.

“Jake,” your protest is weak because you don’t put up an ounce of a fight, opting instead to shift along with him so that you are comfortably nested on his lap, your ear against his shoulder, tip of your nose just about brushing the side of his neck, “I’m not a child.”

“Mmm,” Jake simply hums in agreement with your words, both his arms coming to form a loose, protective cocoon around you.

You both sit in a comfortable silence, a haze of alcohol enveloping you both. Truth to be told, the break up, the serial cheating - it all hadn’t come as a surprise to you. You had suspected on many occasions, but it had been easier to ignore and live in denial than to face the truth after 3 years of being with the same person. It had broken you for many reasons, and it still hurt like hell to lose a constant presence with which you had spent the past 3 years with, but you weren’t all that sure it had broken your heart, not when your relationship had been fizzling out for a while and you’ve suspected for months.

“He wasn’t good enough for you, you know,” Jake says as he turns his head slightly, managing to plant a half kiss on the side of your temple.

“You say that with every break up,” you laugh dismissively, “that’s what best friends are supposed to say.”

Your words make Jake frown and he moves himself to move you, making you sit up sideways on his lap so that he can look you in the eye. Your are slightly elevated from being seated on his thigh, and you find yourself staring down, holding his gaze. You slide the palms of your hands past his shoulders to steady yourself.

“They were all not good enough for you,” is what he says, unwavering as he holds your gaze. From your sideways position, you can feel one of Jake’s hands sliding around your back, and coming to rest on your waist, and the other coming to rest loosely across your lap.

“Or maybe I wasn’t good enough for them,” you say with a rueful quirk of your lips, letting yourself drown in alcohol induced post break-up self pity. Your words only make Jake’s brows furrow together, a flash of irritating passing through his eyes. It makes him move the arm hanging across your lap up to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing the space just below your eye. You let yourself luxuriate in the warm against your cheek, leaning into his hold. You see Jake’s gaze dart from your eyes to your lips, but the fuzziness of your mind doesn’t let you overthink at just how intimate the moment between you both is.

“You are too good for all of them,” is what he says. You see a flash of something in Jake’s eyes, and perhaps if you were sober, it would have been something you could more accurately place, but you can’t.

“I want to go to bed,” you say, your exhaustion suddenly hitting you and you let your eyes close, weight of your head still balancing on Jake’s hand.

“Ok,” is all he says as his thumb continues to move gently across your skin.

“Come with me?” You say, your ask clear, you didn’t want to be alone - it was simple, nothing more, no innuendo and you knew that Jake would understand.

“Ok,” he repeats as he finally drops his arm from your cheek.

-

Jake has a hand behind his head, eyes fixed up on the ceiling of your bedroom. You had fallen asleep the moment your head hit the pillow, no doubt attributable to all the tequila you had ingested, but also a sure sign at just how exhausted you were. He had taken a quick shower, ridding himself of whatever traces of airplane he had left on him, before tugging on the pair of shirt and shorts he had brought along with him and, true to his word - gotten into bed with you. There was no way in hell was he allowing you to wake up alone.

He lets the soft hum of your snores wash over him, and Jake tilts his head down to watch the rise and fall of your body from where it is curled up beside him in a fetal position under the covers. You look at peace, finally - but he can see the sunken skin beneath your eyes, a tell tale sign that not all was well.

“Baby,” he sighs, murmuring to himself, the term of endearment slipping too naturally from his lips, as you shift, your body finding its way a few inches closer to him. He doesn’t hesitate, removing the arm from behind his head to caress the side of your cheek. Your snores stop, turning instead to an sleep exhale of content, and in that moment, it strengthens Jake’s resolve. He feels the gears shift in his brain and chest, feelings that he had kept at bay in the recesses of his mind and heart for months, years, coming to shore. He had spent the past 3 years watching you fumble your way around with Dan, and even more before that with different men that you had dated, but it was enough - fuck that. He was sick of watching them hurt you, breaking your heart when you deserved so, much, more. Jake wasn’t going to let that happen again. The next person you dated was going to be your last, the person you dated, was going to be him.

-

“Text me when you land,” you twist your fingers around, interlocking them with each other as you and Jake stand on the sidewalk outside your apartment, waiting for his car to pull up.

“I will,” he says while watching you twist your fingers together. You weren’t ready for him to leave, and neither was he - ready for himself to leave, but the days since his arrival on Thursday night had blown past, and Sunday had come too soon, “text me whenever you need,” he says as he extends an arm, pulling you sideways into him. His action makes you stumble slightly, and you reach out with a hand, to grab him around his waist.

“I will,” your response is a parrot of his. It had been a great past few days, once you had gotten over the hangover that hit you both, but you harder, on Friday morning. Jake had forced you out of the house for two whole days of everything and nothing - strolls around the city all while forcing you to thread your arm through his, making sure you filled your stomach with an assortment of food, watching bad television together in your apartment. He had filled your space with laughter, familiarity, and physical touch when you needed it most and you weren’t ready for him to leave.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, leaning sideways towards you to brush his lips against the top of your head. Jake lets his lips linger for a second or two, and you let your eyes close - letting yourself be vulnerable, enjoying the moment.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” you voice is soft, small almost, the truth of your words both a happy feeling for Jake, but also a stab to his heart.

“I wish I didn’t have to either,” he says gruffly, removing his lips from the top of your head to pull you into a bone crushing full frontal hug. He could see a car approaching from the end of the road, his time with you dwindling now to just mere seconds, “I’ll see you soon,” he says, a statement, not a question as you cling onto him in similar fashion.

“Soon,” you echo, a promise between you both.

-

“So how long are you leaving your girlfriend for?” The driver asks his question conversationally as he pulls away form the sidewalk. Jake’s gaze lingers on you as he raises a hand to wave goodbye. He sees you offer a lopsided smile and a similar wave of your hand.

“I don’t know,” he admits to the driver without much thought, not bothering to correct him. Jake keeps his gaze trained on you until he is no longer able to.

“Hopefully you’ll see her again soon,” is what the driver continues with conversationally, “she looks crushed that you’re leaving.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” is all Jake can say as he settle back into the seat of the cab, his mind far away, his heart still with you.

[cleo-fox]

As the Clock Strikes Midnight - Part I

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: In which your story begins. Chapter Warnings: Off screen parental death, implied alcoholism, financial ruin, Loki being vaguely menacing in a library.

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Once upon a time, you had a family and you were happy.

Your father was a lord with a modest estate to his name. You had enough money to live comfortably and pay your servants well, but not so much that you lost all perspective. Your parents were good, kind people who were well-liked and well-respected, and they loved you very much. Though they had been married for many, many years, they still behaved as a couple newly and madly in love. Your mother’s eyes lit up when your father walked into the room and your father looked at your mother like she was the sun and moon and all the stars combined in one dizzying and glittering person who lit up his entire world.

In the darkest part of the night, when all your tears had been spent and your heart felt as though it would never stop breaking, you wondered if it would have been better had he loved her a little less, if that would have made things easier for him in the end. It’s the sort of thought that you feel guilty having, the sort of question that you know you’re not supposed to ask—after all, some stones are better left unturned.

Your bright and glittering mother burned too brightly for this world and it seemed rather bitterly poetic that she should be taken by a fever. Her eyes shone bright as new silver coins as the sickness burned through her, her fevered mind conjuring demons and shadowy figures from the flickering firelight in her chambers. The shadows in her mind made her weep and scream so loudly that you couldn’t help but hear it, even though your father tried to shield you from the worst of it. Worse, though, was when she went very still and quiet, her rattling cough the only sign that life still lingered in her too bright eyes.

She was only sick for a fortnight, but it felt like months of pressing cool cloths against her burning brow and waiting with bated breath for relief that did not come.

She died at sunrise, leaving you alone and taking a part of your father with her.

He tried, your father. He really did. He got up and got dressed every day. He still took you on rambling strolls through the city, still took an interest in your studies, still quizzed you on history at the dinner table, still told you he loved you. But his eyes never really regained their former sparkle and his face grew hollow and just a shade too thin. He drank more—always at night after he thought you’d gone to bed. Sometimes, you would find him staring empty-eyed into the fire, like if he looked hard enough, he might catch a glimpse of your glittering mother dancing in the flames just beyond his reach.

The worst part of it was when you tried to talk about it, he insisted he was fine, even as he began to neglect the house, even as he did not hire replacements for the servants who had begun to leave. You suspected—but could not say for certain—that if you were to look at the house’s accounts, you would find a good deal of red in the ledger. He grew weaker and thinner, like he was trying with all of his might to just disappear.

Your father died like your mother—in the quiet of the night before you could say goodbye.

But your problems were only just beginning. 

You hadn’t expected them to bring you before the king’s steward, but that is where they take you when you arrive at the palace. The palace as a whole is light and airy and bright, but Fritjof’s office feels like a dungeon—largely because of the man himself. Fritjof is a thin and reedy man who would seem less imposing and severe if he were carved from granite. He sits at his desk as he looks you over, his mouth drawn into a thin hard line like you've already disappointed him.

“Do you know why you’re here, girl?” You don’t know it yet, but this greeting is a rather apt example of what your entire relationship with Fritjof will be: cold, distant, and abrupt.

You’re not sure if you should look him in the eye—he seems like the sort of man who would interpret a direct gaze as a sign of impertinence while simultaneously demanding it as a sign of respect. There is no winning with that sort of man—you’re young, but you know this.

Ultimately, though, you decide to look him in the eye. Not for him, but for yourself—it at least gives you the illusion that you’re somewhat in control. It’s a comforting illusion, even if it is a lie.

You clear your throat. “My father’s debts, sir.”

He sniffs slightly and it’s somehow dismissive, like you’d said the wrong thing and he’d expected that. “No.” He picks up a quill and makes a careful note on one of the papers sitting in front of him. “You are here,” he says as he writes, “because of the Allfather’s generosity.” He looks up, fixing you with a stern gaze. “You will do well to remember that.”

“Yes, sir,” you say.

He returns to his writing. “You are not of age and you have no family to take you in.”

This is a fact that you’ve become quite well acquainted with, but you are still surprised by how painful it is to hear Fritjof say.

“The Allfather has settled your father’s debts and you are now a ward in the employ of the crown. You will take no wage until such a time that your debt to the crown has been repaid. You have ceded all claims to your title and any property of significant value.”

He sets his quill down and looks up, his expression devoid of any warmth. “You are a servant, you are indebted to the crown, and you will remember your rightful place at all times. I do not tolerate foolishness, laziness, impertinence, or stupidity. Do I make myself clear?”

You swallow, your fingernails digging hard into the palms of your hands, any hope of finding kindness at the palace well and truly extinguished. “Yes, sir.”

Fritjof stares at you for a moment longer and you get the sense that he’s trying to decide whether you’re truly clever enough to have answered his question. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from squirming under his gaze. Finally, he clears his throat.

“You will work in the kitchens. Grete will see to your training. You are dismissed.”

You don’t really know where the kitchens are or who Grete is, but you exit as quickly as possible, desperate to leave Fritjof and his icy gaze well and far behind you.

Years pass and you come of age in the punishing pace of the palace kitchens.

You are an average worker, precise and methodical, but not exemplary or incompetent enough to draw much attention. You like it this way—the less conspicuous you are, the less likely that you’ll stumble into Fritjof’s crosshairs. While Fritjof spends very little time in the kitchens, his general presence in the palace has the same effect as an icy draft on a guttering fire. He doesn’t exactly seem to like anyone in particular, but it feels like he reserves a particular kind of disdain for you especially. You’re not entirely sure why—it’s not as if you’ve done anything other than simply exist in front of the man—but you try not to think on it much. At some point, you mention it to Grete and she laughs.

“That man has never smiled a day in his life,” she says. “His soul’s made of vinegar. Keep your head down and pay him no mind.”

You laugh, but you still can’t quite shake the feeling.

Grete is something like a friend, you suppose. She’s around your age and prone to gossip, but she’s pleasant enough. She makes an effort to include you in her small group of friends—Marit, Solvi, Lise, and Ylva. It’s not quite the same as your life before, but you have something that resembles a social life, which is more than you expected given Fritjof’s icy reception.

The head cook, Anja, also turns out to be something of a blessing. While the details of your current situation have left you feeling a little wary about trusting anyone, Anja proves to be the exception to that rule. She’s not exactly a warm person, but when she finds you crying in the pantry one night not long after you first arrive at the palace, she sits you down in front of the fire and fixes you a mug of warm milk.

“I’m not one much for sentiment,” she says gruffly as she hands you the mug.

You tense in anticipation of the lecture you’re certain is coming.

“But losing both your parents in such a short time, that’s a heartache I understand.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, so you nod and take a careful sip from your mug.

“I won’t tell you it gets easier,” she says, “but the pain dulls after a while. It’ll become an ache you can live with.”

Anja is quiet for a long time as you sip at your milk, but it’s not an uncomfortable quiet. “You’re a smart girl,” she says eventually. “This—” she gestures broadly at the kitchen, “—this is just a short season in your life. You won’t be a ward of the crown forever.”

It’s the first time that anyone has said anything like that to you, the first time that your debt has felt like anything other than an immovable and immutable obstacle. It’s a hope that feels practical and you feel something lighten in your spirit. 

You blink away more tears and Anja pretends she doesn’t see. “Thank you,” you say.

Anja pats your shoulder as she stands. “Wash the cup before you go to bed.”

For the most part, you keep your head down and focus on your work, dreaming about the day your debt is repaid and you can leave the palace behind.

Though you’re curious about your outstanding balance, you decide that you cannot ask Fritjof about it for a while yet. While Fritjof’s general unpleasantness and seeming dislike of you is a motivating factor, the main reason is because the amount you owe is large enough that it doesn't seem particularly prudent to check until enough time has passed for your work to start to make a difference.

So, you wait and work.

It’s many years after your arrival that you finally drum up the courage to knock on Fritjof’s office door. Though you are now a woman grown, you can’t help but feel like you did on that first day: wide-eyed and terrified, your fingernails digging into the palms of your hands in an effort to maintain your composure. Even though you’ve never asked him about this before, Fritjof still looks annoyed as he hauls out his ledger, licking his index finger as he flips through the pages.

Your knees are shaking when he finally slides the ledger across his desk for you to inspect. You suck in an uncertain breath while your eyes scan across the page until you find your name.

And there in Fritjof’s precise script is a horrible truth: your balance owed has barely moved at all.

You have worked until your body ached, forgone sleep and many other comforts, and it all amounts to a raindrop in the ocean. At this rate, you will be an old woman by the time it is paid off in full.

You have years of practice holding back tears, but this creeping sense of despair and the lump in your throat are both new. You feel as though you’ve lost something important and after a moment, it occurs to you that the feeling you’ve lost is hope.

“Will that be all?” Fritjof says gruffly.

You jolt. “Yes. Thank you, sir.”

You only allow yourself to weep later that evening under the cover of darkness.

But despite that loss, this is the year that everything begins to change, though you won’t know that until much later.

You spend the first week after Fritjof’s revelation walking around in a dazed fog. You eat little and sleep as soon as your work ends in the evening, clinging to what scant comfort your dreams are able to provide. But from that consuming fog of hopelessness emerges a strange kind of freedom. It’s not exactly apathy so much as it is perspective—suddenly, the little things that bothered you seem pointless, arbitrary rules that kept you in line feel less consequential. Does it truly matter if you sneak an extra pastry into the pocket of your apron when so many more years of backbreaking work lay ahead of you?

It’s this change in perspective that motivates you to begin visiting the palace library.

Reading is a pleasure that was taken from you when you came to the palace. You had managed to keep four favorites from your parents’ library, but you have read them so many times over that it is difficult to enjoy them in the same way that you had before. With all of your wages going toward your debt, you have no money to buy books of your own, not even the cheap paperbacks they sell in the marketplace. From time to time, you might be able to arrange a trade with one of the other servants—bartering an extra shift for a borrowed book—but your reading interests and theirs did not always align. A library is a luxury that you can barely even begin to imagine—and one day, it occurs to you that maybe you shouldn’t have to imagine it.

You’re not exactly breaking a specific rule. That is the story you intend to tell if you are ever caught. The library is open to the entire palace and no one has ever specifically said that servants are excluded. Granted, if you have to guess, you’re fairly certain that you’re not supposed to be there, but you’re prepared to play dumb if it comes down to that.

You are still careful, though. You only go very late at night during your free hours. You don’t stay long—maybe an hour at most, the clock chiming midnight always serving as your cue to exit. You never take anything with you—you read quietly standing in the stacks, your eyes straining in the dim lamplight.

You like this new rhythm to your days—it gives you something to look forward to, a glimmer of light in an otherwise exhausting existence. The only person who notices you coming and going at late hours is Grete, but she easily convinces herself that you’re sneaking about because you’ve taken a lover. You roll your eyes and tell her that you’ve simply grown fond of a late evening walk. She doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t try to stop you either, which is the only thing you care about.

It’s three weeks in when you’re caught. You expected this would happen at some point, but you didn’t think it would be so soon and you didn’t think that one of the princes would be the one to catch you.

Your stomach drops as you recognize the emerald gaze boring into you from across the room. You hadn’t seen him sitting there, hadn’t heard him come in, and there is no way to hide the open book in your hand. It’s not like you could pretend that you are here on urgent kitchen business, either. If Thor had been the one to find you, you might have had a hope of pleading your case, but Loki...well. Loki isn’t exactly known for being particularly merciful.

You meet his gaze dead on, your chin jutting out almost instinctively in quiet defiance. He looks at you, utterly unreadable, his gaze flitting briefly to the book in your hand. There’s a slight twitch at the corner of his lips—something that could be a hint of amusement, though you can’t quite imagine him smiling in this moment.

He holds your gaze for a moment more and then his gaze drops back to his book.

You stare at him for a few seconds before retreating back into the shadows of the stacks, your heart beating wildly. You’re not entirely certain what this means. Perhaps he is biding his time; perhaps he will go straight from here to Fritjof’s office after he finishes his book. Perhaps he will wait until morning.

You consider this for a moment. If he intends to report you, your time in the library is surely limited; you’ll be back to rereading your own books and making bargains with the other servants. This could be your last chance to enjoy a new book for quite a while. You might as well make the most of it.

It’s not easy to bring your focus back to the text, but you manage, even though your heart is still thundering in your chest. Your legs are a little wobbly, but you convince yourself to stay until the clock chimes midnight.

Loki looks up as you are leaving the library. You keep your eyes on his, chin tilted up as you dip into a perfunctory curtsy. You’re not quite sure if it’s amusement or something darker that makes his eyes glitter like jewels, but it’s out of your hands now and you’re resigned to whatever fate has in store. You leave the library with your head held high, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling under the weight of Loki’s gaze.

When all is said and done, though, he doesn’t report you.

He’s there the next evening when you return and most of the ones after that. You seem to have reached some sort of unspoken agreement with him, though it baffles you. You are not entirely certain of his motivations—perhaps he sees you as an amusing curiosity, perhaps he does not care enough about rules and protocol to be much concerned when someone breaks them. Perhaps it’s simply the fact that you never seek to deprive him of the chair that he favors—the red one right by the window. Or perhaps he still intends to turn you over to Fritjof and he’s merely waiting for the right moment to do it. Whatever the reason, he seems content to allow you to go about your business and you decide that it’s a reprieve that’s best not questioned overly much. 

Still, even with this silent truce between you, even with your vow not to think about all the ways this could go wrong, Loki gives you the same feeling you get when you discover a wasp trapped indoors: a slight sense of unease, the feeling that you must be aware of his presence at all times or risk some sort of danger.

Careful, you think.

Sometimes, you lock eyes and it’s hard to ignore how hard your heart beats in your throat, how difficult it is to hold your head high and not look away. It gives you a strange feeling, but not necessarily an unwelcome one.

He’s also rather absurdly handsome, which doesn’t help matters. 

Careful.

Every year, the palace hosts a masquerade ball. It’s meant to be a celebration for all of Asgard—everyone is invited, even the servants. Inviting the servants is a nice gesture, but a slightly thoughtless one—a ball requires an enormous amount of work, especially from the kitchen staff. If everyone took the night off to attend, there would be no celebration at all.

Many years ago, Anja had implemented a solution to this problem. There would be a rotation—the full staff would work together the day of the ball, with one third being dismissed a few hours early to attend and the other two thirds remaining in the kitchens to work. The assignments would change every year so everyone got the chance to attend. It wasn’t perfect, but it was fair and no one could find any fault with fair.

The problem for you was that Fritjof was the one who actually arranged the staffing for this. And every single year, you are assigned to the group scheduled to work. You know that this is intentional on Fritjof’s part: it is the sort of pointless, petty revenge that he is fond of and it requires little effort for him to accomplish.

It doesn’t really occur to you to complain about it. You’re trying to keep your head down and complaining to Fritjof is not worth the trouble it would cause, even though you would very much like to go. So, every year you ignore the sympathetic looks from Grete and the other girls and try not to think about the dress you have tucked away in the trunk in your room as you work the night away in the kitchens.

Among the few belongings that you were permitted to take with you to the palace is a gown that once belonged to your mother. You wanted a bright, glittering reminder of her when she died and this dress was the brightest and most glittering one in her wardrobe. It is several seasons out of fashion, but it is beautifully elegant, all ivory silk and lace and hemmed with silvery embroidered leaves. The matching shoes are encrusted with blue and silver beads that glitter like glass when they catch the light. A matching mask of silver filigree accompanies it—your mother must have worn it to one of the masquerade balls many years ago.

It is an impractical dress to keep—you have never worn it anywhere outside of your own room—but it’s nice to put it on and pretend sometimes. If you ever get the chance to go, this would be the dress you would wear—everyone dressed a little outlandishly for the masquerade and a gown a few seasons out of fashion would draw no special attention.

It’s a silly, passing thought—just another daydream that makes your old life seem not quite as far away. 

But in the year that everything changes, your absence from the ball is finally brought to Anja’s attention.

On the day of the masquerade, Anja summons you to the larder on the pretext of helping her with some pastries. The moment the door closes, she whirls on you, fixing you with a stern gaze. You tense and for a moment, you think she must have found out about your trips to the library.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’ve been assigned to work during the masquerade every year since you’ve arrived?”

Your relief is immediate, accompanied by a dizzying rush of adrenaline that almost makes you want to laugh. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Of course it matters,” says Anja with a level of feeling that surprises you. “Everyone's meant to have a chance to go, not everyone except for one person. You should have said something to me.”

You know you’re speaking out of turn, but the indignation in Anja’s voice is oddly disarming. “I didn’t think Fritjof would allow it,” you say.

Anja’s shoulders sag slightly and there’s a flash of softness in her eyes that disappears almost as quickly as it appears. “I’ll thank you not to repeat this, but that man is too hard on you.”

You shrug, not really sure what to say.

“Luckily, he’s predictable,” she continues. “He’ll be in and out of the kitchens early on in the evening, so I can’t change your assignment without him noticing. Once desserts go out, though, he’s likely to stay in the ballroom. After the cakes are iced, I’ll send you to go get dressed. You won’t have more’n two hours in all, but it’s enough time to get cleaned up and dressed and have a dance or two before the unmasking at midnight.”

Your mouth hangs open. This was beyond what you had hoped for. “Really?”

“Don’t gape at me, girlie, it’s unbecoming,” she says, lightly tapping your cheek. There’s something warm growing and expanding in your chest and you realize there are tears brimming in your eyes. “Don’t you cry on me either or I’ll change my mind,” says Anja gruffly, though there’s warmth there.

You nod, hastily wiping your eyes. “I just—I never thought...thank you, Anja.”

“It’s the decent thing to do,” she says, brushing you off. “Now look lively, there’s a lot of work to be done yet.”

You think of your bright and glittering mother and your kind father and the life that they wanted for you. It’s just a masquerade, but you can’t help the small, hopeful feeling that blooms in your chest.

Little do you know that this will be the start of something rather extraordinary.

Next chapter

[bringingheavendown]

Trustworthy readers who I’ve ordered from

Updated 10/9/2024

*I was asked to write this post to help other people avoid scammers, so I’m going to provide a list of readers who I trust & would recommend to anyone*

(This is in no particular order of favoritism) - these are readers that have great communication, provide amazing readings & happily answer any questions

TAROT

1. @galene-gothic - I ordered a FS reading from her and she gave me the MOST in depth reading ever!!! The reading was so long & informational & I really enjoyed every minute of it. Truly one of my favorite readings I’ve received!

2. @the-wild-candy - I ordered a nsfw FS reading from her & omg the messages she was able to channel!!! I was giggling & kicking my feet reading it LOL - she has great communication which I really appreciated & kept me updated with the delivery of my reading!

3. @leoascendente - omg she sent me the most beautiful FS reading! Her delivery was very quick, but it was not rushed at all because she provided me a great deal of information & thoroughly explained every single topic - again, one of the best readings I’ve received!

4. @punkpandapatrixk - I love this woman 🤭 she was so sweet & helped me pick which questions to ask for my reading! We went back & forth & she patiently listened to what information I wanted to hear & made up questions based on that! I had a wonderful experience ordering from her & I received a lovely reading that I still reread to this day!!

5. @freyatarotreadings8 - she did such an amazing job explaining what each card meant in the context of my future spouse. I don’t read tarot myself, so I have very little knowledge on what they mean in different contexts, but she was so good at writing the explanations in a very understandable way for me.

6. @helianthus-tarot - I’ve gotten quite a few readings from Julian & I’ve loved every single one. They are always open to answering any questions you may have & does their best to answer them. They also have some of the best PACs I’ve ever read on their tumblr!

7. @cozycottagetarot - the sweetest & kindest soul! She sent me a thorough future spouse reading & even took extra time & energy to further clarify the messages for me 🤍 she has amazing communication & you can tell she really cares about you as a client! I had the absolute best experience with her!

8. @crystallilytarot - the personal readings she has done for me have been AMAZING!! She is one of the few tarot accounts where her general PACs resonate with me 100% & I just love her energy so much, she’s a gem 🤍

9. @blueskiestarot - she is so sweet & does amazing personal readings! She dives deep into the details & is so kind & communicative. I have ordered multiple readings from her & have been happy with every single one!

ASTROLOGY

1. @astroismypassion - I ordered a Juno persona chart from them & omg I loved it!! They do such an amazing job explaining the degrees, house placements, & signs. They are so full of information & also answer plenty of astrology related questions on their tumblr!

2. @cosmicpuzzle - he read my Vedic chart (I didn’t really know how to read it myself) & broke down my personality, best choices for my career, & my future spouse - he explained everything so well & he taught me so much! He does voice memos & it’s nice to just hear him freely explain everything he’s seeing in my chart.

3. @ariesjupiter - she read my astrocartography chart & it confirmed that I’m currently living in the right place for career success 🤭 she was so easy to communicate with & provided me with an excellent reading! It was very thorough & I frequently refer back to it!

[atlasofthestaars]

[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .014

first part | previous part | next part

NOTES:

Hoping for the best that I get this out sooner than nearly 3 weeks haha I’ll update this part with how that goes.

Edit: I had a very hectic last few weeks. Oops. But here’s the chapter finally haha

Some of the ideas in the fic, like the Johnny section was helped by some of my anons on tumblr, ty guys for interacting!

As requested, here’s Rain’s repoll! Probably the only repoll I will do haha ^^ AO3 fans give me your thoughts! The poll will end in a week!

FROM THE EYES OF SOMEONE WHO HAS TO HELP SOMEONE OUT

“I thought I would find you here.”

It was a warm night. It was the type of night where one could sit outside for hours on end listening to the crickets chirp. The sky above was the perfect accompaniment this particular night, being so clear and free from clouds and any sort of light pollution that you could nearly see the entirety of the universe above. It was the perfect night for one to relax and enjoy life. 

But that was not what was happening.

You stood on the very beginning of the crest of the hill, a little away from Liu Kang. Your eyes scanned the hunched over form of your friend. It was an odd look on him, a form so undisciplined from one of the most diligent men you knew. As odd as it was, it only made sense. After all, how could you expect a picture perfect form from a man who has lost his best friend?

The grass rustled as you walked forward, moving to stand right next to where Liu Kang sat. You kept your gaze forward, not turning your head to look at him. You didn’t need to. Without even looking at his face, you could tell all the emotions that he must be experiencing. Frustration, grief, loneliness. It was the same emotions that had been clinging to your friend like tar for a while now.

So, instead, you stared adamantly at the tree. A rush of emotions surged through you as your gaze settled on it. So many memories were connected to this tree. Long days of just relaxing under this tree with Kung Lao came to mind. The three of you would sit under here, chatting and enjoying each other’s companies as the cicadas would sing in the background. 

Or sometimes, you would find Kung Lao here, having sneakily gotten out of lessons to simply sit and snack on a few treats he had stolen from the kitchen. You never sold him out. Even when your father gave you a pointed look, you would feign innocence and claim that you had no idea where the razor hatted man went. 

It only made sense to bury him here, underneath the tree he loved so, so much. It was even his favorite type of tree, the cherry blossom. 

A certain silence hung in the air. It was the silence that could only be made by those who have lost someone important to them. It was the combined silence of someone who had let grief consume him and of someone who refused to grieve yet. The two reactions to the death of your friend could not be any more different between the two of you, but the unspoken words between you two could not be any more the same.

You both missed him, dearly.

“He died in vain.” Liu Kang spoke, breaking the vow of silence he had taken on. His voice was hoarse. You knew it must be from the lack of talking. But there was another part of you who knew the gravel-like quality to his voice must be from his grief and how it tore at him. You could not help but let out a sigh as you dropped your eyes to the humble gravestone in front of you.

“I know.” You replied, your voice laced with resignation. There was a tremble in your voice, your lip quivered for a moment before you set your jaw to prevent the little sign of weakness from persisting. You could not help the slump in your shoulders. It was a hard, harsh truth you’ve come to accept. As much as you’d like to believe that Kung Lao’s death meant something, the invasions Outworld has been sending as of late has proven otherwise. 

You turned your gaze to Liu Kang. It was not inaccurate to say he looked like a wreck. Reddened eyes which felt like they carried the weight of the world met yours. You could still see the freshly dried tear tracks on Liu Kang’s face. It seemed like, at least for now, the champion had finally run out of tears to shed for his long time friend.

“Kung Lao would hate to see you like this.” You said, unable to keep the words from tumbling out of your mouth. You observed the way the man carried himself, and how he almost seemed like a different man entirely. The fury that he had held when he had slain Shao Kahn had burnt out, and only in his eyes could you see the remnants of the dying embers.

“I wish he were here to at least see it.” Liu Kang spat out, bitterness dripping from his voice. You did not flinch at it. You knew well enough the vitriol in his tone was not directed at you. Even if it was, the man was hurting. How could you blame him? His head raised to look at the cherry blossoms, idly watching as a few dropped and scattered around in the breeze.

“Hey, look at me.” You said, tone gentle and soft. You watched as Liu Kang kept his gaze aloft, eyes searching the skies above for an answer to his prayers. You sighed as you raised a hand, putting it gently to his cheek. Even when his fire was put out, he felt warm. Your thumb rubbed softly upon his cheek, taking a moment to wipe away the tracks that the tears left. “I know you’re grieving, but you’re falling apart.”

Liu Kang leaned into your touch. You watched as his eyes attempted to brim with tears he no longer had. His hand rose to cover yours, clinging to it as if your hand was a lifeline. You felt your heart shatter at the sight, but still, you refused to let the man in front of you see your resolve break. You could care less if he saw you at your weakest, you trusted Liu Kang enough to let down your walls. But you knew now you did not have the luxury.

The world was falling apart. Invasions were arriving. You and others would need to forge a group to fight them off. Raiden would need a confidant who had a clear mind. Liu Kang needed an anchor to keep him from drifting off. All of these duties needed someone who could rise to the occasion, and you were willing to do so your allies would not have such a heavy burden.

It was the very least you could do to make up for failing Kung Lao. You could only hope that the others did not see how much your heart was aching too.

“I’m not asking you to stop grieving.” You said. You were slow to speak, choosing each word carefully so as to not upset your friend anymore than he was. “I’m not asking you to forget him either, but you need to start living again.” The way you delivered those words felt less like a moving speech to inspire him to move on, but more like a desperate plea. 

“How?” Liu Kang’s voice cracked and at the same time, your heart squeezed. His eyes searched you, as if the answer to his question would be written upon your skin. You felt his hand squeeze yours with desperation. You did not complain about the tight grip, keeping your gaze steady on his face. “How am I supposed to live knowing he won’t be here anymore?”

In truth, you didn’t know how. But you couldn’t tell your friend that. You couldn’t let him drift aimlessly anymore than he already was, you had to do something. So, instead, you gave him a soft smile as you rubbed his cheek softly once more. You prayed to the elder gods that he did not see the weakness in your eyes.

“Well first, you must take little baby steps.” You said, trying to think of the years worth of advice you had gotten from your father. “I think the first step you can begin to do is to start taking care of yourself again.” You gestured to his form. “Stop skipping meals, stop spending hours out here on end, and start letting yourself accept the fact that he is gone.” You took a deep breath. “I know that sounds like a lot, but I can’t watch you let yourself deteriorate anymore.” 

“But Kung La-”

“Wouldn’t want you to stay by his grave like this.” You interrupted him, sending him a worried look. You closed your eyes and thought back to your friend. “If anything, he’d be upset that you’re doing this. He’d want you to live in his stead, to carry on his stories.” You paused, opening your eyes to watch Liu Kang’s face as you let him absorb your words. 

There was a long period of silence that stretched between you. Afraid to break the fragile tension, you even held your breath. Conflict danced in his eyes, wavering between whether to trust you or the hurt that dragged him down. Silently, you pleaded for him to believe you. You already couldn’t save one friend, you had to save another. 

You couldn’t fail again.

“Alright.” Liu Kang croaked. And finally, you let yourself breathe. His eyes fluttered closed as he seemed to lean his weight into your hand. In that moment, it felt like you took on his burdens. You forced your hand to be still, so he did not see your will waver. The slightest of slimes appeared on his lips, and you felt your heart soar. For even just a bit of his happiness, you would take on the world. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, hoping he didn’t hear the way your voice nearly cracked. His eyes opened, and you put on a smile for him. You watched as he sat there, watching you for a few more moments before he let go of your hand. When stood up, wobbling just a touch. You wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him. Gently, you squeezed his hip. “Come on, let’s go inside, Princess Kitana has been dying to thank you for freeing her and I have to go with Nightwolf to find a new base in America to help with the recent invasions.”

“Thank you.” Liu Kang said, his voice full of warmth.

“It’s no issue.” You said, your words full of sincerity and fondness. “I would do anything for you.” You told him, a broad smile on your lips. Your heart felt lighter than it has in a while. Just barely, you caught the hint of pink upon his ears when he turned his head. “I’ll have your back, always, Liu Kang.”

Waking up felt like a haze. 

The warmth of Liu Kang’s flank against your side lingered. You laid upon the bed, which had been somewhat patched up due to you sewing up the sheets and the mattress. Your hand fiddled with the sheets, staring up at the soft glow on the ceiling as you ruminated upon what you had discovered and what to exactly do with this information.

How strange it was despite your long years of knowing Liu Kang, you still had memories left to discover with him connected to them. And those words you said, why did they feel so familiar? Not familiar in the sense that you had said them, but you swore you heard them elsewhere. You thought long and hard about it, trying to find a rhyme or reason why you had these feelings. There were several minutes that passed. You sighed as you rubbed your head. The most logical conclusion you could come up with was that it was because you’ve been in Outworld.

What else could it be? All these memories did resurface ever since you’ve gotten here.  

You paused, a sudden thought breaking through the rest like a sprinter did when they ran towards the finish. You breath caught as you stared at the ceiling. Was there any point in returning to Earthrealm if all your memories were here? You laid there for a long while after, unable to ignore the logic your brain was conjuring up.

You groaned as rubbed at your face. There was no point incessantly worrying over this issue, it was not like you could do anything to change the duration of your stay here. At least, that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself. The little whisper in your head would try and continue to try and think over it. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Your fingers glided over the hasty sewed up areas of the bed, noting the bumpiness. You’d just hope no one would notice. 

Then, after a few more moments of sitting, you sighed. You sighed so hard, like you were trying to relinquish your worries that way. You closed your eyes, trying to rid your worries once more. Then after that futile attempt, you got up and stretched. Might as well start your day.

After going through the morning routine you’ve become somewhat accustomed to, you stepped out into the hall. Perhaps it was the room, or maybe it was the last of the warm memories finally leaving, but it felt…colder outside. Not enough to have you shivering, but it sent a slight chill through you. A few goosebumps appeared on your arms.

You stood there for a moment. At first, you didn’t realize why, but then as you heard the tapping of feet coming from the far down hallway you realized you were waiting. You turned your head to see the usual culprit, Princess Kitana. You gave her a cheery wave to which she gave a respectable nod. You met her halfway down the hallway. If someone were to observe, they may notice, just for a fleeting moment, that her steps went faster before meeting you.

“Glad to see we’re both back on schedule.” You commented, a light playful tone to your voice. You watched as Kitana’s eyes squinted slightly, the edges of her lips curved upwards in the slightest smile. She hummed, a hint of amusement in her voice. As soon as you joined her side she seemed to be content and nodded, as if she were acknowledging that contentment. Still, as you stood next to her, you felt that familiar nagging feeling once more.

Why did you always feel it around her?

“I heard you got the privilege to tour the Imperial Academy.” Kitana spoke, breaking the silence. Her voice did not hide her intrigue at the idea of you at the academy. Her eyes seemed to rake over you, scrutinizing every little detail of you she could see. You resisted the urge to shiver, to not show the slight moment of weakness upon her observant gaze. “How did you find it?” She inquired a moment later, her voice seeming to imply she already knew your answer. Your eyebrows raised just very at the thought. 

“It was lovely.” You admitted, finding yourself unable to conceal the underlying admiration you felt towards the location. You tilted your head upwards to look at the vast expanse of white marble overhead, thinking of all the wonders you had seen. You were even beginning to see the swirls of magic within the material above. You didn’t think you were obsessed, but it would be hard to deny that idea with how you were seeing things that weren’t even there. You didn’t notice how her smile grew, becoming less restrained. “I wish magic was more used in Earthrealm, it’d be nice to see a school much like the academy there.”

“You seem very interested in magic.” The princess said, reading your reaction. It wasn’t an incredibly difficult feat though, it was obvious to anyone who could see. You could not help but nod in response, only feeling a touch embarrassed at being so obvious. A small chuckle left your lips. Her eyes seemed to soften, if just a touch. “If I recall correctly, you have magic as well. Animal shapeshifting, correct? I overheard it at the banquet.”

“Yes, animal shapeshifting.” You confirmed. You held out your hand, letting it shift into a lion’s paw outstretched with its claws out. You saw the hint of amazement in Kitana’s eyes. Her eyes traced the length of your transformed limb, then stared intently at the flesh where it transitioned. “I’d like to think I’m rather proficient in it.”

“I see.” The blue clad princess said, her tone indicating a hint of interest at your display of magic. “Had you been an Outworlder, I would say you would have a chance at excelling greatly at the Academy.” She admitted. For a moment, your heart skipped a beat at the high praise. Then, you felt a little silly at being so pleased at the compliment. After all, it’s not like it meant you could get in even with your magical skills.

“A shame that I’m not.” You say, a small wistful tone in your voice. It still felt…odd to not label yourself as an Outworlder. In Earthrealm, you did not feel right calling yourself one of them. But here, you did not feel right calling yourself an Outworlder either. Was there really a label you’d feel comfortable with?

“Perhaps, in another life, you could have.” Kitana said, offering you an apologetic smile. You nearly stumbled in your steps upon hearing those words, and the nagging feeling disappeared as the pieces fell into place. Your eyes widened and you stared at the princess, who seemed none the wiser as she gazed into the Great Hall, which you both had ended up at finally.

That’s why you had that feeling and why it was always around her.

Those were the exact words she said as she had laid dying in your lap, in that vision you had about the amulet. Your fingers twitched as you took in a deep breath, holding back a wave of nostalgia as you gazed at her for a few moments more. It was an odd feeling, seeing the princess alive and healthy with little idea of who you were compared to the last time when she had said those words and she had been one of your closest allies and dying in your lap.

“Enjoy the match.” Kitana bid you goodbye, offering a small smile before walking off. You nodded, barely able to return her goodbye before she was out of earshot. Your gaze lingered on her a moment more. Your stomach twisted, and you were uncertain how to make use of the information you had gleaned.

Why did it seem like everyone you had cared about in the last life died? 

Was that fated to happen once more?

Before you could get too lost in your spiraling thoughts, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Your thoughts paused, as if the hand on your shoulder pulled you away from all the noise. You turned your head slowly to see Kenshi looking at you, eyebrows raised. You sent him a bit of a forced smile, trying to not worry him any more than he seemed to be.

“You were spacing out.” Kenshi said simply. His eyes focused on you, searching your face for any indication for your unusual behavior. You felt your smile grow the slightest bit strained, like a string being pulled just a bit too tight. His eyebrows knit together, and you felt a sense of embarrassment at how he could read your expression.

Or maybe you were just easy to read in general. Either way, you didn’t feel too great about that.

“Early mornings, you know how it is.” You said, using possibly the lamest excuse you could have. You nearly wanted to smack your forehead as you realized how uncharacteristic that sounded as well. If anyone were to say that excuse, you were the last one who should have. Your jaw set a tiny bit more, trying to make your smile more prominent.

“I see.” Kenshi said, after a few more moments. There was an odd tension between the two of you. It was the type of tension that could only be made between someone who had lied very, very horribly, and by someone who could see right through the lie as if it were the most polished glass in the world. His hand squeezed your shoulder. 

Your gaze dropped to the hand on your shoulder. You stared at the tattoo on his hands, having nearly forgotten the designs on his hands. He didn’t put them on display very often. Your lips pursed, and you thought long and hard about whether he had similar tattoos, if any, in the old timeline. You don’t think he did.

“See something interesting?” Kenshi’s words cut through your thoughts. You glanced up, seeing his concerned expression having changed into one of interest. The ex-yakuza member’s eyebrows were raised, and his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. His eyes, which you now noted to be just the perfect shade for him, were trained on you. There was a certain tone to his voice that you couldn’t pin down, was it playfulness?

“I was just looking at your tattoos. They’re really pretty.” You admitted, before wanting to smack yourself. It was not because of the admittance, it was because you had forgotten the connection the tattoos had to his past. “Not that I think they’re too pretty, because of your connection with your past.” You quickly added on, resisting the urge to cringe at the addition. You sighed and closed your eyes, shaking your head. “I think they’re nice, regardless of your past, is what I meant.” 

“Maybe the early morning is getting to you.” Kenshi said, his voice having just the tiniest hint of a teasing lilt to it. Once more, he squeezed your shoulder. His eyes seemed to shine a bit, and a smile grew. Out of all your champions, he smiled the least. But whenever he did, you always seemed to notice how bright it felt to you. “But thank you for the compliment, now let’s join the group. Even Cage is there now.”

And so, the two of you walked over to the group. A round of greetings were passed between the group. You did your best to maintain your steady composure. It was getting harder and harder with all the memories coming back rapidly, especially with how dreadful they’ve been lately. Liu Kang and Kung Lao’s greetings were the hardest to return as you were trying your best not to space out and linger on the differences between their past selves and now.

Still, you did it, and no one seemed the wiser. Kung Lao had even given you some food. You were nearly honored by the gesture, knowing he saved you some food instead of taking it all for himself. You let out a small huff at the little wink he sent your way when he handed you an extra portion. 

“What was up with your little moment with Tattoo?” Johnny asked, leaning over with an all too nosy tone in his voice. You’ve seen the older women in Fengjian be less nosy than he was. And man were they always vying for some gossip whenever you visited Madam Bo. You sent him a perplexed look, which seemed to spur him on. “You know, like, when he had his hand on your shoulder.” He said. His hands were very emotive, portraying the story all on their own.

“Nothing.” You said, dismissively. You shrugged, and you watched as Johnny seemed to deflate at your answer. He was either not pleased at the lackluster answer, or how little you elaborated. Probably even a mixture of both. “It was seriously nothing, he just noticed I was spacing out.” You continued, hoping to satiate the little bit of curiosity he had.

“Mhm, sure.” He replied, a hint of skepticism in his tone. “We’ll discuss this later.” The actor insisted. You opened your mouth to respond that there was nothing else to discuss, but then the Empress and princesses strode in, causing you to fall silent. Instead, you sent him a hint of a glare. Of course, the actor didn’t care, just sending you a sunny grin in return.

What unlucky timing.

“Once again, we gather to witness another day of the tournament.” Sindel announced, scanning the crowd. When her eyes landed on Raiden, who seemed to be growing in confidence with every win, her lips pursed. You held back a chuckle at the slight annoyance that glimmered in her eyes. You saw her take in a deep breath before continuing. “After three fights, your resolve has not yet broken.” She observed, raising an eyebrow. “Today, we shall see if that will change.”

There was a pause before she continued.

“Today, you shall fight one of my most trusted allies.” The Empress announced. You were surprised for a brief moment. The last two fights were chosen by the general, did she finally get fed up with his choices? You held back yet another laugh at the prospect. “Sheeva of the Shokan shall be your opponent today.” 

From the end of the hallway emerged a broad, tall figure. Nearly rivaling Kotal in size, a woman dressed in battle-ready armor appeared. You felt a slight buzz upon seeing her, but nothing overly major. Her armor, though indicative of a warrior, appeared different from the ones that both Reiko, Kotal, and General Shao had all donned. It was a hint more decorative, and it reminded you very slightly of the umgadi gear. A purple sash that matched Sindel’s colors was pinned across her body.

“Sheeva is one of the best warriors from the Shokan. Fierce and loyal, she is one of the best guards and warriors I have come to know.” Sindel said, a certain type of fondness in her voice. It felt like a stark contrast to the way she had regarded Li Mei. Sheeva seemed to take the praise in stride, holding her head up high. All four of her arms flexed, showing the muscles that she had gained through the years. “May she grace us with a fight to display just how well she can fight.”

“I have heard many things about your prowess, young one.” Sheeva spoke, gazing down at Raiden. Her face, though it looked unimpressed, did seem to hold just a bit of respect within it. Her upper arms crossed over her chest, while the lower set of arms were firmly placed upon her hips. Her gaze was so strong it was nearly unnerving. “We shall see if they are true.”

“I will try my best to prove it true.” Raiden replied, nodding. Despite the difference in both bulk and height, Raiden seemed to not be cowed in the slightest. You smiled at the sight, feeling proud of the strength he displayed. He has certainly come a long way since the beginning of your training. From a meek sapling to a strong, sturdy tree.

Sheeva’s way of fighting reminded you a bit of Reiko’s. They both utilized the same grappling style, trying to latch onto Raiden like a leech to hit him. The Shokan was amazingly proficient at using all of her arms within combat. Her fighting style, though like the second in command, did not match the calculated way she fought. That part of her felt more like Kotal.

Her brutality was not out of bloodlust, but from the cold precision of knowing her true strength and how to use it against her opponent. Even when she stomped harshly on Raiden’s back, there was no maniac energy from her. It was a detail that you did not miss.

Had Raiden not fought against other grapplers and those who already outsized him in a match, he would have fared far worse. But, unfortunately for the Shokan, it seemed that the previous two matches only served to prepare him for this fight. Sure, he did take a heavy hit here and there, but for the most part it went far smoother than the last few matches did. 

It did not take long for him to stand over Sheeva, a tired but elated look on his face.

“I hope that proved my determination to you.” He said, his voice a bit breath as he adjusted his rumpled clothes. A groan left the beaten Shokan’s face. But as she stumbled to her feet, she seemed to nod in response. Her head dipped low, a look of shame coating her face. She seemed to hold herself a little less tall now. The two exchanged bows, before the woman walked out, her footsteps heavy with defeat.

“Congratulations upon yet another win.” Sindel said, her lips curling upwards. Her smile, once again, did not reach her eyes. In fact, her eyes did not even seem to follow the victor. Instead, they trailed after Sheeva, a slight look of disappointment within them. She cleared her throat, and the momentary weakness disappeared. “We shall adjourn at first light once again.”

“Hah, was that even a challenge for you?” Kung Lao spoke, walking merrily to his friend. A playful shove was sent Raiden’s way. A small “ow” left his lips as he rubbed his arm, which certainly must be sore from how Sheeva had been tugging him around. “I think you’ve got this in the bag!” He encouraged, though this time it lacked the little shove.

“Indeed, your training reflects well in your matches.” Liu Kang added in. He sent a little bit of a look towards Kung Lao. “Remember not to grow complacent, the next few matches may prove to be more challenging than the previous ones.” He warned. His hands were clasped neatly in front of him. The fire god’s gaze then turned to you, expectantly.

“Lord Liu Kang is right. As long as you remember what we taught you when you fight, you’ll do fine.” You said, giving him a small smile. You crossed your arms as you shifted your weight. “But I do agree, you’ll need to be vigilant. I’d say it was a lucky streak that your last opponents had similar fighting styles, but the next few may fight very differently from them.” You placed a hand on his arm, trying to be comforting. “But I, and so do the rest of us, believe in you.”

“I-” Raiden began, seeming a bit caught off guard by either your words or the touch on his arm. He cleared his throat, a faint flush on his cheeks. Johnny took your attention away by slinging an arm around your shoulders. Turning to give him a confused look and to shrug off his touch, you missed the brief look that Raiden sent your way before you turned back. “I understand, I’ll do my best.” 

“Good.” You commended, sending him a bigger smile this time. Then, after a moment, your hand dropped from his arm. Liu Kang picked up from your little moment, telling the group a few things before he dismissed them. You watched as Liu Kang, Kenshi, and Raiden all walked off. But Kung Lao lingered, a look of contemplation on his face. You tilted your head as you walked forward to stand next to the man. “Something on your mind?”

“Just thinking.” Kung Lao answered, a thoughtful tone to his voice. You raised your eyebrows, nodding to see if he would go on. After a few moments, he did. “I know Raiden deserved to be the champion but…” He said, trailing off as he looked to the side. You nodded, placing a hand on his bicep and squeezed it gently, making him return his gaze to you.

“I admire your willingness to fight.” You said, cautiously picking your words. The memory of the old Kung Lao dying because he had been far too eager to fight lingered in your mind. Was it a warning of things to come? Or was it merely just a stain in your mind that would never go away? “But know that we all see your value even without you launching yourself head first into battle.” You pinched his arm. “Don’t go around and be reckless to try and prove yourself, okay?”

“If I were to fight though, I’d win.” Kung Lao retorted playfully, but that attitude melted away to reveal a more genuine smile. “I know, though.” He said, nodding. “I promise I won’t go around picking fights…unless they deserve it.” He said, grinning at you. When you sent him an unamused look, he rolled his eyes before laughing. “I’m kidding! I won’t.” He claimed, raising his hands up in surrender.

“Good. I’m going to do some shopping now, okay?” You said, nodding with a satisfied smile. You dropped your hand, missing the way the farmhand’s eyes trailed after it. As you were about to walk off to go tour Sun Do for gifts, you felt a hand upon your arm. Your eyes trailed up from the hand to the culprit. It was none other than Johnny. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah.” The actor said, his smile that was so bright it nearly rivaled the sun. His hand dropped so he could spread his arms out wide. “Saw the other day that Rai-dude got to have a day with you, it’s my turn now.” He announced, seeming almost a bit too proud of himself. “That, and I did say we had stuff to discuss later.”

“We’re taking turns hanging out?” Kung Lao spoke up, having not left yet. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked back and forth between you and Johnny Cage. A look of utter confusion was obvious on his face. You were nearly certain that a similar look was upon your face. You were no less confused than he was. “When am I getting my day?” 

“We’re not taking turns, don’t worry about it.” You reassured the former farmhand. You looked back at Johnny with an exasperated look. “Don’t say things like that, people will get the wrong idea, Cage.” You scolded him pointing a finger his way. “Why do you even need me to accompany you today?” You inquired. You noticed the slightly irritated tone in your voice and sent him an apologetic look. “Not that I mind.”

“I need someone to help take some pictures of me around Sun Do so I can post it on my socials.” The American informed you causally. Either he didn’t notice the tone in your voice, or didn’t care. You were assuming that with him, it was the latter. A broad grin crossed his features as a more confused look appeared over your face. 

“But I wouldn’t anyone else be bet-” You began. You were shortly cut off by Johnny grabbing your hand. With a surprised shout, you were dragged off by Johnny outside of the palace before you could protest more. Too stunned, you let him lead you away, mind still mulling over the strange excuse he had given you.

Left in the dust was Kung Lao who looked at where you two had disappeared to. There was a moment where there was nothing but sheer confusion spread across his face. Then, Kenshi passed by, having returned to the Great hall. He looked at the farm hand with a perplexed look as well. He glanced back and forth between where Kung Lao was looking and the man himself.

“Are you okay?” The swordsman asked, having not been there to witness the little scene. 

“Yeah.” Kung Lao said, snapping out of his stupor. He shook his head, trying to dispel the strange hurt feeling he felt before shrugging. “I’m just really, really confused.”

“You didn’t have to drag me out here, Cage.”

“Nah, I totally did have to.” Johnny said simply. The blunt response stunned you for a moment. Normally, you would have a witty remark or be able to bounce back. But with how strange Johnny has been lately, you’ve found yourself more and more uncertain of what to say in response. You didn’t quite like how speechless you’ve become. 

“No, you really didn’t have to.” You insisted. Your words fell upon deaf ears as Johnny continued to drag you towards the capital. It wasn’t until you both made it to the city that he finally released your hand. You sighed as you sent him a look before shaking your head. “Well, we’re here.” You stated the obvious, looking around at the crowd. “Where did you need the picture?”

“Oh, we don’t need to do that now.” The actor told you with a grin. You stared at him with a look of disbelief. “In fact we have to wait. I wanted to do these pictures at sunset so we can get those sweet, sweet colors.” You looked upwards into the sky, noting just how early it was. Sunset was hours away. You sighed, you guess you were stuck with the man for a bit. He didn’t seem dismayed at all by your reaction, instead slinging an arm around you and leaning in close. “So, where to first?”

“I didn’t really have a plan.” You said, crossing your arms. “I was really going to go window shopping.” You inform him, trying to think of ideas for the two brothers you hadn’t gotten gifts for yet. So far, you were drawing a blank. Glancing over to Johnny, who seemed to be very pleased with placing almost all his weight upon you, you pursed your lips. “I suppose you don’t have any ideas for what to get Bi-Han and Kuai Liang?”

“The ninjas?” Johnny inquired, eyebrows raising. Before you could correct him that they weren’t quite ninjas he continued, “I dunno, some breath mints for frost face?” He suggested, shrugging. You sent him an exasperated look, but you supposed asking Johnny out of any of them was the wrong decision. He probably didn’t hold either of them in such high regard after what they did to his…Hichuli. He laughed at your reaction, nudging you. “Okay, fine, how about we go window shopping like you said, we’re bound to think of some ideas.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You said, nodding. You stood there, waiting for him to move. When he remained leaning against you, you raised your eyebrows. “Are you expecting me to be able to drag you around everywhere?” You inquired, a tinge of amusement in your voice apparent. A smile spread across your lips. Maybe it was because he was an actor, but he never failed to be entertaining to you.

“Where’s your sense of fun?” He groaned, a hint of a pout on his lips. Still, he relented and got off of you. With an overexaggerated bow that reminded you of certain characters in a movie, he gestured towards the city. “Lead the way?” He inquired, his eyebrows waggling playfully. You rolled your eyes at the grand performance and chuckled before beginning to walk over to the stores.

Even after touring part of Sun Do with Raiden, there were still plenty of shops you had not explored yet. Both you and Johnny peeked into stores, marveling over their wares with different degrees of wonder. There were a few times where you’d hear mutter how he wished that he had an easy way to convert his American dollars to the Outworlder coin. 

It took a while until you found a good gift. Or rather, until Johnny found a good gift.

“How about this?” The actor asked. The two of you had ended up in some sort of jewelry store. While you hadn’t been too keen on the wares here fitting the idea of a gift for either of the brothers, you both decided to tour it anyways. Upon seeing the suggestion Johnny lifted towards you, you were infinitely glad that you did.

You grabbed the ribbon he had held up, eyes wide with amazement. It was made of gold and black fabric, perfectly long enough to do someone’s hair. In fact, it seemed meant to be tied into one’s hair to keep it up. The thread work was immaculate. It was woven intricately, creating a pattern that vaguely reminded you of a scorpion. 

It was practically perfect.

“Where did you find this?” You asked. You rubbed your thumb over the design before flipping it over and admiring how soft the fabric was. You looked from the ribbon over to Johnny to see what may be the smuggest look you’ve seen on his face. “I mean, this is pretty much what I’ve been looking for.”

“Just over here.” Johnny told you, pointing his thumb in the direction of a display of other ribbons. You wandered over, humming as you perused the rest of the collection. Unfortunately, there was nothing that stuck out to you as something you’d want to give to Bi-Han. Still, as you looked back down at the ribbon in your hands, you were grateful to find something. “You seem really pleased by my findings.” He observed. You could hear the grin through his words. “Do I get to have a reward or something?”

“Or something.” You sassed back, shaking your head. Still, you looked over to the man with a smile. “Thanks for helping me, Johnny.” You thanked him sincerely. The smile he sent made your heart skip a beat, though you weren’t quite sure why. Deciding not lingering on the why part, you turned and went to the counter to pay for the item.

Surprisingly, it was cheaper than you expected. A fact that you were grateful for so you did not completely lose your money on this one gift. The centaurian man who helped you even offered to package it in a pretty gift box for free. 

“You’re not trying to find a pretty little trinket for yourself, wildstyle?” Johnny inquired as you rejoined him near the entrance. He sent you an inquisitive look as he crossed his arms. You shook your head as you tucked the box away into your bag for safe keeping. You would be devastated to find that you had lost the perfect gift for Kuai Liang. “You’re a strange one.”

“Really now?” You quipped back, raising your eyebrows as you turned back to look at him. You peered over to the sky, noting how low the sun had gotten. Browsing around had taken far more time than you had expected. It was nearly time for taking pictures soon, assuming that the man still wanted them. “Did you want to go find a spot to take your pictures now? Or did you still want to help me look for Bi-Han’s gift?”

“Still don’t get why you’re buying gifts for the man who broke my Hichuli, but I guess we’ve got some more daylight to burn.” Johnny replied, shrugging.

And so, the two of you continued to browse. Unfortunately, even between the two of you, you still failed to find something appropriate for the icy grandmaster. Luckily for you, you still saw that there were plenty of stalls to go through. Tomorrow, perhaps you’d have better luck.

That’s how you got to the pier, squinting down at Johnny’s phone. You’ve rarely touched his phone. The only times you’ve bothered to interact with it was to play Candy Crush whenever the actor wanted to bribe you to give them a break, or to show Kung Lao the video. 

Still, holding it in your hands, something about the device felt oddly…familiar.

“You know how to take a picture, right?” Johnny said, leaning over to point at the screen. You looked over to him, giving him a sigh.

“That’s what I was going to tell you, Cage.” You told him, sending him an exasperated look. You had nearly forgotten about his little excuse to drag you out here. How silly it seemed now. You thought about telling him if he had just asked to accompany you on your little shopping trip that you would have let him, but you figured you were past that point now. “I have no idea how to really take a picture, so your luck with me taking actual quality ones for your social media is pretty low.”

“You’ll probably have a knack for it.” The actor encouraged you. He positioned so he could wrap his arms around you, placing his hands upon yours. While Johnny was usually touchy, this felt…different. You suppressed a shiver as you noted how gentle he was being. “Here, lift it up to this angle.” He instructed, his voice quieter than usual. And yet, when it was right next to your ear you hardly noticed how he was pretty much whispering. Was your face getting hot?

“Good.” Johnny praised, and like usual, you could hear the smile in his voice. The smile your heard though, was a different type of smile. It wasn’t arrogant or smug. It felt like he was proud of you. “You’ll want to tap the screen if it’s out of focus.” He said, and tapped on the screen to demonstrate. You nodded, pursing your lips as you tried your best to focus on the task at hand. Did he really have to be this close though?

“Anything else I should know?” You asked, hoping the way you spoke didn’t reflect the way you were feeling oddly nervous right now. You had no idea why your nerves were acting up, it isn’t as if you were being tested on anything. You did not turn your head, feeling like you would grow more nervous if you turned your head to look at the man.

“Nope, you should be good. I’ll be telling you whenever to take a shot. Oh, taking a picture is this button by the way.” He said, pressing the circle at the bottom of the screen. You nodded diligently, back oddly straight as you tried to focus on anything but him. You had to hide your sigh of relief as he unwrapped his arms, backing up. “Alright, let me get into position.” 

You watched as Johnny jogged over to the spot he had apparently determined in his head. You kept your arms up, not wanting to lose the perfect angle that the man had decided for you. Still, the memory of his touch on your hands lingered in your mind. Johnny prepped himself, moving between a few poses before he settled on one and called out for you to take a picture. You grinned at the rather amusing pose he struck. Was he trying to pretend to hold the sun?

Nodding, you moved your thumb to press the button. Accidentally though, you made the screen flip, making it turn to your smiling face. Following that accident, you pressed the button. With a sigh, you furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to figure out how to turn it back around. After a few moments, you offered him an apologetic smile as he walked back to you.

“Did you get the shot?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. You shook your head and handed the phone over, sighing.

“I told you I didn’t know how to take pictures.” You sighed, pointing at the screen and how it was still using the forward facing camera. “I accidentally flipped the screen and made it take a picture of me.” You explained, your tone indicating your embarrassment at not knowing how to navigate the device well. You watched as he lifted the phone up, so he could see it better. The only issue now was that you couldn’t see it. “So I didn’t get the picture, sorry.”

“Main man Lord Liu Kang should really get you a phone so you can start learning. Don’t sweat it though, Teach.” Johnny observed, humming as he tapped the screen a few times. His eyes lit up after a few moments. A small smile curled onto his lips. Then, almost as if remembering you were there, he cleared his throat as he looked back to you. 

It was rare to see him taken off his guard.

“Here.” He said after a few moments. When the phone was handed back to you, it was correctly oriented this time. “Try not to switch it again, or do, I don’t mind having a few photos of you in my phone.” Johnny teased you, sending you a wink. Before you could retort, he jogged back to the spot. You shook your head, unable to resist a smile.

This time, you took what you thought was a pretty good picture.

By the time you and Johnny returned to the palace, it was dark. You had spent the fading bits of daylight on taking every picture you could. You thought it was excessive, but the actor had told you something along the lines of “we don’t finish until it’s perfect in the industry”. You had tried to tell him that there was no industry here, but he promptly ignored you.

You had half a mind to groan at his stubbornness.

“Busy day?” Raiden inquired, seeing the both of you walk into the hallway. It seems the reserved seats had changed for the both of you. You had a choice of either between Kenshi and Liu Kang or between Raiden and Kung Lao. You slipped into the one next to the champion, humming as you reached over to get your share of food. 

“You could call it that.” You replied. You muttered an apology as you bumped into Raiden as you leaned over. He took your apology in stride, smiling generously at you. “I managed to get another gift under my belt. No luck in finding one for Bi-Han though.” You said, sighing. “Then again, I predicted getting a gift for him would be the most difficult.”

“Maybe tomorrow I can help.” Kenshi spoke up. You glanced up at him, a bit of surprise on your face. You nearly missed the look of what you could only call betrayal on Kung Lao’s face. Why that was the case, you had no idea. You felt a little bad, it looked a little funny. You brought a hand to hide the bits of a smile that threatened to slip through. You hummed, tilting your head after you recovered from your near smile. You thought about the offer for a moment before nodding.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” You said. As you peered down at the food on the table, you missed the pointed looks the swordsman got. When you looked up, they were gone. “I’ve found that I find the gifts whenever I’m with one of you anyways, might as well not break the streak.” You said contemplatively. “How was the rest of the day for you guys?”

The rest of dinner went smoothly from there. There was chatter here and there, catching up on each other’s day. It wasn’t until dinner was over that you encountered something unexpected. You stood up from your seat, excusing yourself. You had plans to get a bit of alone time before your usual meeting with the princess. Yet, when you turned around you were met with the sight of Rain.

“Oh, hello.” You greeted, blinking owlishly. You offered a small wave, to which the mage returned. “Did you need something from me?” You asked, looking around to see if there was something obvious around to indicate what he wanted. 

“Ah, nothing much. I just wanted to talk.” He said, offering you a smile. You returned the smile, a hint of surprise and joy in your eyes. You knew Rain had offered you friendship the other day, but you didn’t actually expect him to want to spend more time together than he did yesterday. “Do you have the time for a little chat?” He inquired, his hands sweeping out to gesture to a hallway.

“Oh, definitely.” You said, nodding perhaps a bit too eagerly. You weren’t sure why, but Rain and you seemed to click quickly. You chalked it up to the shared interest in magic, and how he seemed to admire your drive to get better. “I’ll see you guys around.” You said, waving to the group before you walked off with your new friend.

“Lord Liu Kang, your stare is…intense.” Raiden pointed out quietly after you and your new friend disappeared down the hallway. The Fire God diverted his gaze away from where you had gone to the champion. He cleared his throat, putting on a cordial smile.

“Do not worry about it.” Liu Kang reassured the man. He cast his gaze upon the rest of the group, nodding at them. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. I shall see you all tomorrow for Raiden’s next fight.” He then stood and disappeared too, retiring to his chambers.

Even gods like him were not immune to human emotions.

You had talked longer with Rain than expected. 

It wasn’t until you saw the man yawn that you realized just how late it had gotten. You felt a twinge of guilt course through you as you quickly realized you had to dismiss yourself. Searching around, you excused yourself, giving him an apologetic smile.

“I really should be going, I struggle with waking up without proper sleep.” You lied. You did feel bad lying to your new friend, but you weren’t certain just how public the information of your meetings with Mileena were. You figured it was best to play it safe and pretend they did not occur. With an understanding nod, the mage smiled.

“I understand.” He said. There was a pause, his lips parting before he shook his head. Your eyebrows raised at the action, but didn’t question it. You didn’t want to be too forward and scare him off.  “I hope to talk to you soon. It’s refreshing to talk to someone like you.” 

“I feel the same.” You told him, nodding. You watched him walk off, taking slow steps away. Then, as soon as you deemed yourself safe enough not to be caught in a lie, you slunk off in the darkness to the hanging gardens. You nearly transformed to make the job easier, but you figured that was more suspicious, so you stuck to the teachings Madam Bo had taught you.

Reaching the gardens, you let out a sigh. Here you felt safe enough to not sneak around. You looked around, spying for any sign of the princess. You caught a hint of pink, and walked right over. Just as expected, she was waiting on the bench for you.

“Apologies for my late arrival.” You said, not even certain if you were even late. It is not as if you had a clock to judge the time. Even if you did, you weren’t even sure if Outworld ran on the same time system as Earthrealm did. You rushed over to take your spot near her after she indicated towards it with her hand. “I got caught up in conversation.”

“Lucky for you, I just got here.” Mileena remarked. The jesting tone in her voice had you relax, letting out another sigh of relief. Hints of thinly veiled amusement sparkled in her eyes accompanying the little smirk on her lips. “I assume you were giving your champion a rousing speech for tomorrow’s match?” She inquired, an expectant tone in her voice.

“Ah, no actually.” You said. You felt a little silly, realizing that her assumption was something you actually should be doing. You knew Raiden did well off of praise. Not only that, but it didn’t hurt to be a little more encouraging towards the champion. Maybe you should do that tomorrow night, especially since you knew that if he won this one, he would have to fight the princess beside you. “I was talking to the High Mage, Rain.”

“I did not know you two were so…familiar.” The princess said, raising an eyebrow. You heard the curiosity in her tone. You chuckled at her phrasing, shaking your head as you waved your hands dismissively.

“Not at all.” You said, holding back a disbelieving chuckle. “He and I simply got along well during the banquet and became friends of sorts..” You explained. You turned your gaze away from the princess to the sky. “It’s refreshing to hear someone talk about magic with such fasciation and depth.” 

“I did not realize you were so intrigued by magic.” Mileena remarked. This time, a hint of surprise appeared in her voice. “Do you possess magic yourself, or are you simply fascinated by the subject?” She inquired. Her gaze scanned your form, trying to see any indication of magic upon your person. Her calculating gaze felt just like her younger sister’s.

“I have magic.” You said. “Magic doesn’t really exist in Earthrealm in the same ways it does here.” You explained. “Very little people know magic themselves, and the ones I know who have such magic don’t have the same passion as the people I’ve met here.” You shrugged causally.

“Perhaps it has something to do with the goddess Delia.” Mileena proposed. “As far as I am concerned, the only god Earthrealm has is Lord Liu Kang, correct?” She inquired. You nodded. You doubted Liu Kang would have hidden another god of Earthrealm from you. “Delia is the goddess of magic, it is natural that Outworld would simply have more magic than Earthrealm.”

“I suppose.” You said, not knowing what to quite respond to that. She was probably correct. You pursed your lips as you pondered on the subject of magic for a few moments more before realizing that Mileena had been staring at you. “Oh, right the story, my bad.” You said, straightening up. You cleared your throat before glancing at the princess. “Any particular stories you’d like to hear about tonight?”

“How about you tell me about Earthrealm’s version of magic?” The princess proposed, connecting the prior conversation to the story she wished to hear. You smiled at the sentiment, thinking of what to tell her before nodding and proceeding.

That night, you told her of magic. And that night, you tried your best to ignore the longing ache in your heart.

part fifteen

tagged - @bonezisded @lollipopin @simpxinnie @zhivaxo @koisuko

[ebaybears]

Rainbow Furby Deepdive

Now that I've decided my website is a sea slug fansite (long story) I don't have anywhere to put my rainbow furby research. I considered putting it in a youtube video, but decided to post it to tumblr instead.

Anyway, here it is! The forbidden furby lore.

On the 14th of June 2016 supersonicmario0770 made a post on the adoptafurby forums. The thread was titled "Rainbow Furby?" and included a link to an archived ebay listing.

"I have never seen one of these before or where it came from. I can't find it when I look it up, no sign of it anywhere online but this ebay listing. It's pink with rainbow ears, hair, and chest."

At first most forum members thought it was a customized furby with dyed fur, although some thought it could be an unknown prototype. While the ebay listing is unarchived, we know roughly what it said.

On the 15th aibo7m3 posted this:

"I would err on the side of caution and and say that it's probably a custom too, but the seller's story is that this furby was an employee gift given to some of the members at tiger electronics (including her husband)."

Two weeks later on July 6th furbyandchips made a forum post, providing pictures of their own rainbow furby.

"My friend bought me the other rainbow furby the seller on ebay was selling. Identical to this one. I do not believe it to be fake or custom made. I have inspected it closely and the bottom of the box was open, so the inside cardboard can be removed, but the furby is still attached to the cardboard and didn't look tampered with. All tags are present and in mint condition. Everything is as it should be and looks like it was made in a factory and not customized by someone. The seller told my friend the same story which I believe to be true going by the fact the other furby she bought with it was only furby number 4 of that release, which makes me think it could of been someone who worked for tiger to have such a early one. This furby is in a regular box but if you look at some of the other special editions they too were in regular boxes."

Three years later, on the 19th of January 2019 furbyandchips provided an update on their website heyfurby.com.

"Hello Furby Fans! To start off our new blog, I thought I would write about a very interesting Furby in our collection. I do not know her Furby name as I have never switched her on, she is still attached to the cardboard base from the factory. We decided to name her May May, which means Love ;-)

A good friend found May May on Ebay America and I have never seen another furby like her. A while ago I posted about May May on a furby forum to try and find out some information about her, but no one there had ever seen or heard of this furby. I'm not sure which generation she is, if she is a prototype, limited edition or something very special. She has all tags present and looks to be an Official Furby Release.

Looking at the photo you will see she has rainbow eyelashes and a purple face plate, unlike any other furby. She also has rainbow pattern ears, mane and belly.

Her colours are amazing and I wonder if there are any more around like her. We will always treasure May May and hope to eventually find out more information about her. Stay tuned!"

furbyandchips quickly provided an update on the 21st. In this post, furbyandchips described searching the wayback machine for furby.com articles, finding what they were looking for on a page titled 'news updates'.

From the 9th of November 1999 until the 1st of August 2000 a competition to design a furby took place on the back of Post brand cereals. Children 17 and under were asked to color in their own furby design, and send their entry in the mail by the 1st of August 2000. Twelve designs at random would then be selected and posted on furby.com where a winner could be voted by the public.

The winner was Brittany from Missouri, who won a trip to the furby design studio in Illinois, as well as recieving their own furby. However, furbyandchips was still left with some unanswered questions.

"So it turns out that this is in fact an official Furby-Tiger Release! (some doubted this on AdoptaFurby Forum). I wonder if 'Brittany from Missouri' still has her Rainbow Furby? Also were any of the other 12 entries created?

As far as I know, there are only two Rainbow Furby's in existence. The one that I own, and the other one the original seller (maybe) still has? After some more detective work, I found out the other rainbow Furby had a highest bid of $525.00 before the seller chose to end the auction early! I can only guess they had a change of heart and wanted to keep it."

Eight months later, on the 11th of august 2019 an update was posted on the private facebook group Furby Collectors.

"Hi guys! I'm brand new to this group, and while I'm not a “collector” per-se, i am very proud of this furry rainbow dude right here. He's one of three in existence, made in 2000 when i was just 10 years old. i just so happened to be the lucky winner of a coloring “design your own Furby” contest hosted by Post cereals back in the day. i was flown to Rhode Island with my family and allowed to tour the Hasbro factory, meeting the artists, getting sneak peaks into prototype toys to come, and got to meet the CEO himself! He presented to me, in a formal greeting ceremony, with three of the Furbies I'd designed as a little girl. One to play with (kept outside of the box), one to keep sealed, and one they put into their archives. i felt ike a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory! Truly a dream come true for a kid. Sadly, when i was 16 years old, 13 years ago now, my boxed Furby was stolen from me and sold by my late older brother who had been battling an incredibly difficult and heartbreaking addiction. I've come to terms with it over the years, but have always wondered what happened to the rainbow siblings of this furry cutie. I'd seen images posted online of an Ebay listing with one of the sibling Furbies before but have not discovered much more about their fates. thought I'd reach out here and give a bit of backdrop to this weird story in hopes i may learn something! Here I've included a goofy photo of my multicolored friend from recently and a clipping of the arcticle written from when i was an excited 10 year old girl!"

This still leaves some questions. If the other furby furbyandchips's friend bought was number four, then why would the facebook poster believe there to be only three in existance, why would furbyandchip's believe only two to exist, and why would the original ebay seller say their husband recieved two as an employee gift?

We can most likely rule out the brother making both ebay listings, since he only had access to one furby. Could there be more rainbow furbies that we don't know of?

If you have any more information on this furby, please get in touch! I tracked down the news article the original creator was mentioned in, but I needed a newspaper.com subscription to view it so I wasn't able to get further information from that. I also wasn't able to check the facebook group for further updates as I don't use facebook. If anyone has pictures of the back of the rainbow furby and can share them, that would be appreciated!

Here's some more images:

[hkblack]

Let me tell you a story...

It starts in the summer of 2021. Honestly it probably starts a little before that. 2020 through 2022 ish are a bit hazy because there was a lot of sitting around at home doing nothing.

Somewhere in that haziness my partner goes “wait, you haven’t watched this Good Omens show yet? And you haven’t read the book? … oh no. You should do that.”

And immediately after finishing the show I knew I was in trouble. I knew if I read the book I would absolutely fall down the fandom rabbit hole and be trapped, and so for a very long while, I didn’t. Until I did.

And then in August 2021, I wandered into fandom. I had been lurking. Seeing what AO3 had to offer. Crawling back onto Tumblr. But I had a story idea, and I needed a beta reader. And the last time I was in fandom, LiveJournal was still a thing, so I didn’t know where to go.

I found out about Discord, and I signed up for a thousand servers, it felt like, and in one server I bravely started sticking my neck out.

There was talk about someone writing a Human AU on a farm, and farm animals in general, and I chimed in about goat-scaping. And then I made the joke that would seal my fate.

“I don’t know if I could write a kid fic, but you know. I could write a kid (goat) fic.”

It was meant to be a short, sweet, meet-cute. Professor Aziraphale has a goat from the goat scaping team break into his office. Based loosely on a campus experience where a member of the goat-scaping team at a campus I was on tried (and failed) to get into a classroom once.

A simple formula. Maybe a 4+1? 4 times a goat broke into Professor Aziraphale Fell’s office, and one time it didn’t.

I even found the first beta reading request. First chapter done, I’ve got four more planned. Rated T.

Ha.

I started writing Chapter 5, you know, the final chapter, and realized—there’s more to this story. These characters have life, and story, and who doesn’t want to see more goats? Also, had I truly fulfilled the “kid-fic” portion of my joke?

I think we can all agree that no, no I hadn’t.

So, I kept writing. But I also found my stride in other Discord Servers and in Fandom in general. And in the winter of 2021, I went on a beta-reading blitz for the Gift Exchange happening in the Do It With Style Events Discord server. I read something like 14? 15? stories in a very short amount of time and in doing so, got to know some really amazing people and began to carve out my spot in the community.

From this server I found folks with lived goat-experience who were willing to share and advise me. From this server I found beta readers and brit pickers willing to cheer me on and guide my writing to the best version it could be. I found friends and joy and I found community.

And if you look very carefully through the pages of Bleating Hearts, I think that at its heart, past the puns, past the obvious fast burn love story, and the crooked Luce Matin and demanding James Starr, and even beyond the goats, it’s a story about finding your place in a community. While we talk about Aziraphale and Crowley and their relationship, so many people have asked me about Anathema and Crowley at the chicken coop (we only got to see Newt and Aziraphale in the bedroom). The most commented on scene is Anathema pulling the car over and getting Aziraphale’s consent to go to Tracy’s for lunch.

It's a story with goats, romance, and drama. But it’s a story about community.

I have thanked the people most involved a thousand times over, and I will always take an excuse to thank them again. @ambrasue, my ride or die beta reader. She is who to thank for the sentences making sense. And for me not beating you all over the head with the word “Gently.” HolRose, for the Brit-Picking and second pair of eyes when Ambra and I had gone cross-eyed, and always, always, always having a kind comment ready to go for every chapter update. @writingordinaryrealities, for all things Goats, and for not laughing at me when we met in person and I lost my cool over real life goats.

@mirjam-writes! Mirjam made me my first ever fanart for one of my fanfics! And so many more of you have followed suit and I never know what to say when I see it but I always make a noise and run excitedly to my partner and flap my hands and show him his heart and he always gets the dumbest smile and goes, “I love when people make you goat fanart. You are adorable when you’re verklempt.”

But also, the DIWS and Good Omens community. Every single person who shouted at one of my snippets when I needed a boost and shared a bit of what I was proud of. Every single person who tagged me in a goat video—you all have tagged me in so many goat videos. I watch each and every one of them. Every single person who got excited when I said I was finally ready to start posting.

Because you see, that support, that community, led me to pay it forward. At TIC4 in 2023, I had just finished my panel on beta reading and was feeling a bit amped up. I saw in the chat that someone wanted to talk Slow Show and Human Aus and, I don’t know if y’all know this, but uh, I’m a big fan of human AUs. And so I hopped into the break out room and met J.

J is a lovely human who has been fandoming since the OG Star Trek days with Kirk and Spock. She had found a physical copy of Slow Show and just needed to talk to someone, anyone about it. She wasn’t sure what the Archive was, she was still learning her way around digital fandom, and I instantly wanted to reach out and help her find community and joy the way I had when I got started in the fandom. So, I sat down and I gave her my favorites. I told her how to find me on socials. We connected on Discord. We sent each other long letters back and forth on Discord sharing our joys and frustrations and our love of GO and talking about all sorts of other things. And it has been amazing listening to her stories and getting to know her.

Unbeknownst to me, J had reached out to @brunheiffer to ask for a physical copy of Bleating Hearts. Now—I’m all for fandom in the physical space, but it’s never even crossed my mind to do more than something printed out at my home printer, hastily hole punched, and shoved into a binder so I could sneak fanfiction reading time during 5th period math class after I was done with my worksheets many, many, many moons ago. When brunheiffer reached out and asked if they could print and bind a copy for me—I didn’t know what to say. Or do. Or think. I think I keysmashed? I keysmashed after I made my partner read the message out loud. And then I went and looked through tumblr and all of brunheiffer’s excellent work. And then I went, “Do I say yes?” and he went “um YES OF COURSE YOU SAY YES. WHAT”

So, I said yes.

I also said yes to progress shots and got to watch some of the coolest work ever. I didn’t know how books…ya know…booked. Witchcraft probably? I’m still convinced there is witchcraft involved, but there is also an incredible amount of skill, and time, and patience, and hard work, and love that is put into making a book a book. And learning what I did, and watching the process, and seeing the care that brunheiffer put into each of the three (THREE!) sets of books that were made (one for me, one for brunheiffer, one for J), was just stunning.

Do you know, J reached out to me and apologized for not asking me first and asked me if it was okay that she had reached out and asked if brunheiffer would do this for her? Why would I ever be against something so heartfelt and kind?

I cried.

I legitimately sat in my office and cried.

When people ask me how I write the way I do, or why I write, or anything along those lines. I have the same answer. “I write for myself.”

Oh sure, I started to write Bleating Hearts to make Ambra laugh and/or have feelings, but at the end of the day, when I write, it is because I need to get the bed time stories I tell myself at night, the day dreams while sitting on the bus, out of my head and somewhere else—so that a new movie can play. And when I write, I write knowing that I will come back to that story. That I will forget the little pieces (because I have a pretty shit memory tbh), and I’ll be able to go back, and wrap myself up in the comfort of the story I have written, and be surprised by some of the little details I left as presents for myself. And be excited. And be happy. And watch my favorite movie again.

So every time I see someone make art of this story, or talk about how they love the story, or how happy it made them, or the feelings it inspired, or how reading goats made them want to write their own fanfiction—I get, well, like my partner says, “verklempt.” I don’t know what to do with that feeling, other than to just be overwhelmed that somehow something I made to entertain me has brought other people so much joy. Has helped people connect and find community.

What a powerful and beautiful thing that is.

Not everything I write is going to be Bleati—y'all I am just going to call it Goats. Calling it Bleating Hearts feels so weird. It’s Goats. That’s the name of the story. That’s my name for the story.

Anyway.

Not everything is going to be Goats. I’ve got some wips in the hopper right now that are um…lots of angst and heavy spice. Not everything I write is going to be liked by everyone. Some of it may even offend you.

But knowing that this one thing has inspired you all to the point that I’ve been gifted the ability to hold my story in my hand?

That’s powerful.

And it only exists because this community, this Good Omens community, has come together and chosen joy.

There’s some bad apples out there, there are in every bunch. But I am liberal with my block button and have been blessed to find a welcoming and warm community that creates some amazing and incredible art—whether that’s like actual like digital or pen to paper art, or the fiction you write, or the podfics you record, or the meta analysis you write, or the playlists or the animatics or the beta reading or the shouting unhinged support or the role playing or the plushies, or the books you bind—this community is full of incredibly creative and amazing people.

So thanks, y’all, for letting me part of your community, and enjoying my silly little goat fic. And thank you brunheiffer and J for this amazing gift.

If you haven’t read it, or just want to reread it, you can read Bleating Hearts (GOATS) on Archive of Our Own.

All my love,

HK

(I am the most cringe sap on main right now. No regurts)

[wipbigbang]

OT: An Open Letter From Mod Ragna

So I would like to take a moment to bring something up to all of you on the Discord server, and similar messages will go up on the Tumblr and Dreamwidth. So bear with me.

I have been homeless all of last round and most of this round. I only lucked into the housing I have right now because the city I now live in owns the apartment. I have arthritis, fibromyalgia and Long Covid. I live on a second floor apartment now. So, naturally, considering I am the most able bodied person in my family even with my disabilities, I am the primary caretaker of everyone: I do the cooking, I do the cleaning and as such, I have been building all the furniture we've managed to get.

Up until last night, all three of us were on mattresses on the floor. I gave up a lot of energy making three seperate beds in a non-air conditioned apartment. It was hard work. I just got my daughter's bed up this evening and I am sore. I decided I'd deal with WIPBB business in the morning and was trying to relax and escape the pain I was in.

What I got this evening was a very demanding email from a participant. Now, I will not name names and circumstances, but the tone was demanding and it immediately soured my mood to the point I am still upset nearly a half hour later. I wasn't fast enough in making a correction. Instead of sleeping, I have now updated the posting list, made the corrections that were demanded of me, and I'm about to post a link to the final drafts check-in form and then stay offline for a few days. Maybe. I'm still not sure about that last part.

We are all human. We all have a lot going on. But I've been pretty candid about what's happened with me and, for the most part, everyone is great when it takes me a few days to do something, or we need to change the schedule to accommodate a change in my home life. But I'm partially considering not running this event anymore as well. I put in a lot of time and energy doing behind the scenes work, not to mention I take on about 40 fics a round to do art for. I love this event. But right now? Any enthusiams I had for making art/fic is gone. And I don't know if/when it will come back.

So yeah. That's where it stands right now. The AO3 collection is open, and I will always make sure people get their stuff posted, but I'm going to take a break for at least a day or two, try and get my temper under control, and reevaluate if I want to spend so much time on this event next year, if I even run it next year. So I'm going to keep the claims list open a few more hours, update it when I wake up, and then I'll take a break. Until then, Mod Ragna signing off.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

03/11/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast & Crew; Wee John Wondays; Rhys Darby; Con O'Neil; Taika Waititi; Wendy Anderson;Damien Gerard; London Billboards; London Billboard Survey; Watch Party Reminders; Queerties; Trends; Max Surveys; Fan Spotlight; Fundraisers; Articles ; LoveNotes; DailyDarby/TonightsTaika

Hey Lovelies. I'm not sure where the recaps are going to be going from here. I may calm thinks down a bit and just keep you updated on watch parties and fun sightings. With the news on s3 not being picked up, I'm feeling not quite sure of myself on where to go from here. Still thinking on it. Is there a particular thing about the recaps you like? Maybe I'll focus more on what people want to see most. Anyway, I'd love some feedback. Thanks Crew.

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= Wee John Wonday =

This one featured Con O'Neill and Gypsy Taylor.

Src: Kristian Nairn's Instagram

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Kristian Nairn (@kristiannairn)

== Rhys Darby ==

Rhys has a new Cameo! This time from our lovely dear @/Baladria on twitter.

Check out the video on Cameo

In addition, Rhys posted a pic by @andyhollingworth1 on his instagram story.

= Con O Neill =

Warning, video may cause tears of joy and sadness. Con O'Neill is a gem of a human being. "You were all the home we ever needed"

I also missed his post from the other day, which was a dedication to his lovely mom.

== Taika Waititi ==

Rita was kind enough to give us some more Taika shots amongst her pile of Auckland pics! SRC: Rita Ora's Instagram

== Wendy Andersen ==

Our RedFlagCrew @wendywings on Twitter brought us some much needed Peanut action from the Oscars.

== Damien Gerard ==

Our lovely Father Teach has been making videos for us on Twitter! He's been sending a lot of love notes and keeping us up to date with his works. If you're interested please visit:

https://x.com/damientgerard/status/1766667952252977602?s=20

https://x.com/damientgerard/status/1766981901796147662?s=20

== First London Billboard Meet Up==

The first day of the London Billboards had a wonderful meetup of various UK fans! The billboard was visible from Leicaster Square and had a whole lot of foot traffic throughout the day!

Our lovely friend @queerly-autistic / QueerlyAutistic on Twitter made it to the billboard as well!

The UK Crew also got to see some Box Trucks!

Our dear friend @/whimmzee on twitter put these awesome signs together and the visiting crew signed them!

An exhausted OFMD Crew took one last picture after many hours of work! Thank you for getting out there and documenting the billboards: @MoviesWithMarty, @/whimmzee, and @queerly-autistic.

== Save OFMD Crew London Billboard Survey ==

"Although the March 18 & 19 dates for the billboard are locked in, we’re still able to change the design if desired. This is where you come in. Amazing donors, your generosity is responsible for this billboard, so it’s only fair you have a say in this decision. We’ve set up a survey of viable options: let us know which you’d most like to see! It’ll be open through Wednesday, March 13, 11:59 GMT. Thank you again for helping us make this happen! 🐙💜 “Billboard Survey Link” Tumblr Link to Post / Instagram / Reddit

== More London Billboard Meet Ups! ==

Tomorrow's the day folks! First set of Billboards are up tomorrow! SRC: Tumblr / Instagram

== New Save OFMD Crew Calendar ==

The next few days are focused on the LED Trucks outside the various networks locations as well as doing a rewatch party with @OurFlagRTL

= Watch Parties =

== Wrecked ==

There are sources being passed around. If access is an issue, DM @iamadequate1 on Twitter or Tumblr

Season 2 watch from March 11th to March 15th. 

Season 3 watch from March 18th to March 22nd. 

Times will be 10pm GMT / 5pm EST / 4pm CST / 2pm PST. Watch two episodes per day. Episodes are 21-22 minutes each. Use the following Saturday for the tags/watch if interested but not able to make this time.

Hashtags: 

#WreckedPirates

#SaveOFMD

#RhysDarbyFaction

== Deutsche Nachrichten / German News ==

Twitter-Watch-Along von Our Flag Means Death:

Streamt Staffel 2 ab dem 15. März.

Samstag, 9.3. 17:00 Folgen 1 bis 3, 

Dienstag, 12.3. 20:00 Folgen 4 & 5, 

Mittwoch, 13.3. 20:00 Folgen 6 & 7, 

Donnerstag 14.3. 20:00 Folgen 8 & 9, 

Freitag, 15.3. 17:30 Folge 10

Und anschließend bingen wir zusammen Staffel 2! 

Schaut und tweetet mit! 

Hashtag:

 OurFlagRTL

== The Queerties! ==

We finally find out the results of the queerties votes tomorrow!

== Trends ==

== Max Surveys ==

Don't mind if I do! If you emailed max earlier this year after the cancellation, check your email, you may have one too. Feel free to tell them how much you hated that they cancelled OFMD. Remember these folks are not the ones making the actual decisions so be a Polite Menace and not a Complete Asshole :D Although, if you decide to go complete asshole route, just be sure to let them know its David Zaslav you're mad at, not the support folks.

== Fan Spotlight ==

Thank you to @melvisik for continuing to make these fun Cast cards for us!

I would love to get more fun stuff for fan spotlight, so if you'd like your artwork or creations featured please please please hit me up! I'd love to highlight your work!

== Fundraiser Status ==

I had a few folks ask me to keep them updated on the two big fundraisers going on right now so I'm just showing a comparison fo how much they're going up today :). As usual please don't feel obligated to spend money you don't have or can't spare! If you wouldn't mind sharing to help these charities out, it would be appreciated, but yet again, not required.

eSIMS and Sanitary Products for Gaza

03/10/24 - $5689 / 191 Supporters / 71 %

03/11/24 - $5814 / 194 Supporters / 72%

InSoupNow Status

Wow! That jumped up in less than a day! Thank you to everyone donating or sharing! It's working!

03/10/2024 - $925 / 39 supporters / 18%

03/11/2024 - $1183 / 47 supporters / 23%

== Articles ==

Exclusive Interview: stand-up comic Jes Tom on Hannah Gadsby’s Gender Agenda Netflix comedy special – “I am your new queer best frenemy”

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies, I'm going to leave the love notes to Con and Rhys tonight. There's nothing I could say that they haven't said better. Rhys Cameo Con's video is up above in the Cast & Crew Section I will say I love you all, and I hope you're hanging in. Be kind to yourself today lovelies <3

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme? SNAAAAAAKES OOOOOHHHH ITS A SNEEEEEKKKK Daily Darby Gif Courtesy of @ofmd-ann Tonight's Taika Gif Courtesy of @tea-and-liminality!

[pennyserenade]

the devil hath power

part two: the game

pairing: coriolanus snow x f!reader, coriolanus snow x you, coriolanus snow x nameless reader (no use of y/n) rating: m (mature, 18+) tags/warnings: talk of suicide, talk of death, talk of sex work, classism, a little bit of power play, power imbalance, food mention, alcohol mention, tigris snow cameo <3 word count: 3.6k+ summary: Coriolanus and his 'friend' begin to play a game neither of them are prepared to lose. a/n: the link to part one of this story can be found here (tumblr) or here (ao3). part three of this will follow very quickly after this one - maybe a day or two later - i promise. i've written a good chunk of it, as i intended to post this all one part, but it became much too lengthy. also, if you want to be tagged in the next part of this - or other stories like it - you can sign up to my taglist here or follow my updates blog @belovedinfidels and turn on the post notifications. thank you a ton for all your support and love. it's been lots of fun interacting with you all and writing for this fandom.

part one | part three

The money for what had conspired between her and Coriolanus came quickly, as he had promised it would. In the early hours of the next day a nondescript envelope, along with a sizable clothing bag, was delivered to her door by a nameless Avox. The amount was far more than she would’ve charged him, and yet not enough (as it always seemed to be).

However, it was the contents of the clothing bag that surprised her most of all. When she opened it she found a finely made pantsuit, feminine in its cut but masculine in its style, with wide shoulders and flared pant legs, but a more tapered, closely fitted waist. The fabric was not inexpensive either; it was a costly wool in a light burgundy shade, not unlike the color he had worn when he’d approached her in the club. She ran her fingers beneath the peaked lapels, admiring the work of what must’ve been his in-house tailor.

Though she enjoyed this gift—it was far more expensive than anything she’d purchased for herself in years—she did not feel particularly warm nor grateful towards its giver. She took the suit and hung it in the closet of the main bedroom, where she kept all her finest items, and did not think about it again until the next week.

To say Coriolanus filled her thoughts during this time would be a lie; he slipped in occasionally as she conducted business, but did not remain for more than a moment. Young men, with their heads full of ambition and tongues thick with Capital accents, brought her back to moments in that darkened bedroom, watching Coriolanus’ pupils blow wide, his lips twitching, his voice lower. The earnest clatter of teeth provided by Monday’s man reminded her of Coriolanus’ bruising intensity. The cool touch of Thursday’s regular brought her back to Coriolanus’ fingers beneath her chin. Saturday’s newcomer had blue eyes, which were infinitely kinder and much more open than Coriolanus’, but still filled her with a wave of repulsion. But it was nothing, harmless meanderings to make the time pass.

The only time she truly allowed him to invade her truly invade her thoughts was the following Sunday. The same Avox that had delivered the suit and the money returned with another envelope. Whereas the previous one had been free of design, of name, of anything that could mark it back to Coriolanus, this one bore all the signs of him, from the golden rose seal to the loopy script that read out his name.

The Avox stood at her door, staring down at the envelope in her hands with some urgency. She got the hint, opening it up without her usual regard for its design. Quickly her eyes scanned over the contents. She frowned softly; he was inviting her to a soirée at his apartment, asking if she would so kindly RSVP or decline and then send it back immediately. The date was not far away—only two short days. This, the invitation implored, was why the RVSP - or the decline - was so urgently needed.

Of course, she checked yes. How could she not? The previous envelope was evidence enough that Coriolanus followed through more than enough in terms of money, and wasn’t that all that mattered? When she handed Avox the invitation, the woman handed her another envelope. This time she did not stick around to watch her open it.

When the Avox left she sat down at her kitchen table, putting the envelope in front of her. Somehow she knew that whatever was inside its folds would impact her life in a way so few things had, and she was not yet prepared for it. Her eyes trailed over the details of the room, focused on the dampened quiet, the emptiness that lay in the elongated dining table with no guests to fill it.

As a child she had loved this room, perhaps more than any other, for it was a basin of social activity. Her mother had been a lively host and her father a jovial one at the head of the table. Wine had flown freely and their plates had been filled with food they had not known to appreciate but in retrospect. There had been nights when the guests got so drunk and so merry, and they found her innocence and her childishness compelling, cooing as she weaved her little body through their legs beneath the table. In the next room there used to be a grand piano on which she would sit with her mother after dinner concluded, and listen to her sing to the guests. Her father, a typically stoic man, would slouch against the piano and look at her mother and herself with a fondness she would never forget. How beautiful love feels when it's all gone, dried up except for the aching ghost of it rattling in the bones of a once beautiful home.

The truth of it was that her parents were dead and this home was all she had. When Coriolanus called it a museum, he wasn’t too far off. Not much had changed since her mother had died. So much had been taken before, as the Dark Days reached their peak and the hunger became unbearable. Everyone who had been beautiful and lively at those dinner parties became hollow, and thin, including her parents. It was her father who died first, but when he went it was as if her mother had died, too – it only took a little longer. Seconds, days, weeks, a total of two years until it was truly over.

It was a frightening thing to witness as a child, the destruction of something as sure and sturdy as one’s mother. She had not been told of the gruesome demise of her father, only that it had been attributed to the war. It was only later that she would find out that he had died by his own hand, that he had left what little funds they had with her mother, found an empty home, and did away with himself. His death had affected her but none so much as her mother’s had. She had to become a spectator of her mother’s failing health, watched as the rot of it filled their home, and sat idly beside her bed as it consumed her completely. Death was not delicate, not kind, not to her parents.

A better woman would’ve left this home behind as soon as she’d gotten enough funds to free herself from it, but she could not seem to. Somehow living in it felt like the greatest vengeance - or revenge, depending on the day - for her parents. Everything she did was to better this home, to restore it to the beauty she had witnessed in her once-grand childhood. That’s why the envelope was so daunting; she knew that whatever Coriolanus wrote her, even if it was inconsequential, would somehow tie to this dream. He was money and money was everything, the single stepping stone to life.

She took her time when it came to opening it, first finding a gold letter opener in the haunts of her father’s old office. The envelope was not thin but it was easy to open with the knife; she cut smoothly beneath the seal and peeled back the lip, running her fingers over the rose details that sat on the outside. She could see through the back of the folded paper that it was a letter, handwritten.

Everything is about winning, the letter began, but you know that, don’t you? I think you can see that I am not a man of unfulfilled promises now and you’re taking a step in the right direction – as any smart girl would. On the night of the party, I will send a car for you – the weather’s been rather cool for a walk – and it will take you to my apartment. Whether you choose to wear the clothing I sent is up to you, but I will say to you that the designer of the suit will be there, and she is very eager to meet you. Don’t fret too awfully much about keeping up with your appearances; it will be a small gathering, full of like-minded individuals such as yourself. They may ask what you do for a living and you may divulge the truth to them if you wish. I think I am no more ashamed of you than you are of me – what a thrilling dynamic we have.

Until then, Coriolanus Snow.

The letter remained open on the table until the night of the party. It was a reminder that she was a player in a game of her own making, but that she needed to tread carefully, lest it slip through her fingers.

She knew she could not afford to lose this; it meant far too much now that this kind of money had entered the equation.

— Even Coriolanus’ building gave the air of being self-important, large and foreboding.

Before she stepped out of the driver’s car and onto the sidewalk before the opulent apartment, she first took a wary glance upwards. The sky was a flurry of white, but even through the thicket of snow she could see the bright lights of the apartments shining ominously above her.

Her mind had been churning over the possible outcomes of this party all day. She had poured over his letter and dissected it until the individual words meant nothing and everything all at once. What she kept coming back to was the line about her occupation—how it meant very little to him whether she told the guests she was a prostitute or not. If she knew Coriolanus’ type the way she thought she did, she knew that her occupation would be of some worry to his acquaintances. Had he written that to throw her off? To make her embarrass herself the way she had him? If so, he’d have to work harder than that. She wrapped her black coat more tightly around herself and mounted the stone steps. Exhaling a deep sigh, she braced herself for whatever could come of this night.

The doorman greeted her with a curt nod as he opened the door for her. The lobby was an enormous space, full of stone columns and large potted trees. She admired the high ceilings and beautiful hanging chandeliers before another man, dressed smartly in a tuxedo and red bow tie, escorted her in the direction of the stairs. She wanted to request a walk up the large staircase but thought better of it. Now was no time to gawk over the fine housing of one of her clients. Because that’s what Coriolanus was: a client.

The elevator ride up did little to prepare her for what would come. What greeted her first was the warm sound of music and laughter. Not rich, honeyed laughter but real laughter, laughter that belonged to a time she had not been familiar with in far too long. It was feminine, rich, and pleasant. This, more than the intricate design of the apartment itself, excited her.

Before she knew it Coriolanus was standing in front of her. While another tuxedo-ed man took her coat, he walked up to her. “Welcome,” he greeted, his grin proud and wide. His eyes scanned over her and he was evidently pleased. “You wore the outfit.”

He acted as if she had said the correct answer.

Her smile was warm, and performative to a degree. “I’d be a fool not to,” she cooed.

He was pleased with her, showing it in the way he extended an elbow for her to take. She wrapped her hand around his bicep and he walked them through the long corridor, closer to the sounds of chatter. “Is there anything I should know?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing that I can think of,” he answered.

When they walked into the main room, everyone’s eyes turned in their direction. Coriolanus took to the attention, wearing a cordial grin. One of the women sitting on the multitude of cream chairs hopped up, eyes widening in excitement. “Oh Coryo!” she gushed, pushing through the small crowd to get to them.

She was a stunning woman, lithe, tall, her hair as fair as Coriolanus’ and cascading in loose curls down her shoulders. She reached her hand out in greeting. “I’m Tigris. Coriolanus told me wanted me to make an outfit for someone but he didn’t tell me how beautiful the model would be,” she gushed.

Her cheeks tinted, unused to be fawned over with such earnestness. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she responded, smiling warmly. “Thank you for the outfit, it’s truly stunning.”

Coriolanus patted the hand she had on his bicep and beamed. He was showing her off like a prize, flaunting her. If she didn’t so much like the company of Tigris, she might ask him what he was getting at. But she did like Tigris, quite a lot even though this was their first meeting. Unlike Coriolanus, she was…kind. Nothing disingenuous, not so far as she could see. There was no air of haughtiness to her, no ulterior motive. She reminded her of her mother, in a way.

“I wanted her to be a surprise, Tigris. I knew you’d think she was lovely,” Coriolanus said softly. Tigris looked at him gratefully, cupping his cheek with a gloved hand affectionately.

“You’re sweet, Coryo,” she said. “Why don’t you go introduce her to the rest of the party, maybe feed her–” she looked down. “Sorry, I don’t mean to talk like you’re not here. There’s food in the kitchen and more drinks on the counter if you’re interested. I’m certain everyone else will be very excited to meet you. It’s not often Coriolanus brings someone to my parties.”

They both watched as Tigris returned into the mix of individuals. All of them were stunning, model good-looking—even the ones with more exotic appearances. Their bright hair colors and lavish makeup only accentuated their beauty. They were, to put it simply, ethereal. Not at all like the people she would expect Coriolanus to consort with.

“She’s my cousin,” he said as if reading her thoughts.

“And what does she think I am to you?” she asked.

He shrugged. “A friend, I suppose.”

“That doesn’t make her curious?”

Coriolanus laughed. “No. Tigris stopped asking me questions long ago and it’s best that way. Now come.” He pointed to another open space across the room. “If I don’t get you something to eat she’ll be angry with me.”

“Is this all you wanted me here for?” she asked once they were secluded from the rest of the party. “To make your cousin happy?”

He handed her a plate and smiled his typical confounding grin. “If it was?” he taunted, tossing a berry in his mouth.

“I’d say I wasn’t an escort,” she responded.

This response made his grin stretch. “Of course you’re not,” he assured.

He followed her down the line of food, watching as she selected bits of fruits, meats, the fanciful little hor devours. Something about Coriolanus made her feel more transparent—like he knew the game she’d been playing and was waiting for her to acknowledge how clever he was for catching on. But of course he knew the game. Wasn’t he the one who sought her out?

“It’s no lie that I’m hungry, Coriolanus,” she finally submitted. Her admission made him hum delightedly around a grape.

“So eat,” he encouraged, taking a step forward. He raised a grape to her lips. When she didn’t take it from his fingers, he smirked. “Not a fan?” he teased, plopping it in his mouth. “Well, no worries. There's a lot of food here. And—“ he lowered his voice, “you can have as much as you like for as long as you like. That’s the nice thing about working with me: you don’t go hungry.”

Her eyes turned into slits. “I’m here, aren’t I?” she snapped.

He nodded, his carefully styled coif of hair bouncing. “You are, but there’s still more for you to decide. When we walk back out there, Tigris’ friends will grow interested even if she doesn’t. They’ve never seen you and you’re objectively good-looking—of course they’re going to want to know where I found you.”

She took a sip of the wine, not understanding where he was headed. This didn’t seem to bother him. He continued with a crooked grin. “When they ask you what you are, you're more than welcome to be honest. The future is what you make it.”

He took his own sip, his eyes full of meaning. She hated him. He was thrilled at her undoing, thrilled at the fact that he could control her in even the subtlest ways.

“And if I say I’m a whore?” she challenged.

He wetted his lips, setting the glass on the counter behind him. “Then a whore you shall be.”

“And if I tell them I’m your whore?”

He regarded her with an uneasy calm. She shifted uncomfortably beneath his unblinking gaze.

“Then my whore you’ll be,” he answered.

The finality of it sent her into a reflective quiet.

—

As Coriolanus predicted, Tigris’ friends were inquisitive.

After he’d let her eat in quiet, he’d guided her back out to the party where everyone was positioned in a circle. The room was made that way, adapting the Snowflake design of the house itself, each of the chairs orbiting one lone glass table in the middle. It was clever, helping facilitate conversation, but intimidating for whoever had the floor.

“Coriolanus, what does your little dove do? You’ve both spoken so little tonight and I think it’s safe to say we’re all dying to know,” one of them, who she thought was named Otho, said.

Tigris smiled ruefully. “I’m sure she speaks for herself, Otho.”

She smiled, having remembered the name correctly. It wasn’t until a second later that she realized they’d all turned their attention to her expectantly—including Coriolanus. They shared a glance before she eased back in the chair. He was nervous, perhaps just as much as she was.

“I don’t do much,” she evaded, bringing the glass of wine up to her lips.

Otho pressed on. “Oh, and how does one as young as yourself get on with doing nothing? Don’t tell me you’ve got one of those adoring Capital husbands. I mean, you’re pretty enough, but it’s just terribly unfair. I hate meeting them.”

It was a welcome lie. She didn’t look at Coriolanus as she eased her way into it. “I’m sorry to say I do,” she responded. They all leaned forward in their chairs, interested, so she continued. “He’s off in District 2 at the moment. I got one of the patriotic ones; he signed up to be a Peacekeeper not too shortly after our wedding.”

“Was he poor?” one inquired. Tigris poked them with her finger, shaking her head in disappointment.

“It’s quite alright, I don’t mind saying he wasn’t. He thought it was the right thing to do, being fit and young as he was—as he is.”

“Coriolanus was a Peacekeeper,” another one said. She didn’t remember their name either. “Is that how you met him?”

Coriolanus took hold of the conversation. “No. We go back a little farther than that,” he answered. Everyone’s eyes shifted to him.

“Do you?” Tigris asked. She seemed hurt by the idea of not knowing this. It struck her that Coriolanus and Tigris were rather close, like siblings, friends, maybe.

“As children we studied together.” Coriolanus shrugged his shoulders flippantly. Tigris nodded, but looked away.

“That’s true,” she added. She was hitting her stride. It was easy to perform, to be others, almost simpler than to be oneself most days. Coriolanus underestimated how much practice she’d had at that. Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d known all along. It was hard to tell with him. “When Coriolanus and I were children I had such a massive crush on him. He was beautiful.”

She looked over at him. He wore a tight grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Don’t you remember how I used to fawn over you?” Her fingers grazed his wrist, and she laughed. He did too. To an outsider, they made quite the jovial pair.

“I can’t say I do, but I’m flattered.” He took another sip of his drink, looking back out to their audience.

“Well, never mind that you don’t remember. I do.” She looked back at them, too. Even Tigris, who seemed wounded by what she didn’t know, stared longingly for more as she plunged into the story. She did remember Coriolanus as a little boy. It was easy enough to supply this information.

“Coriolanus was one of the more considerate boys in our grade. At that time boys made up terrible sing-songy rhymes about how girls were ugly and stinky or what have you, but not Coriolanus. Not that I heard at least.”

Everyone laughed and she looked wistfully at him. He did not look back. Instead, his eyes were captivated by the liquid in his cup. She didn’t let it bother her or take away from her story. “I remember on my sixth birthday I invited him and insisted he sit beside me. He got me a doll. I remember it very clearly. It looked a little bit like me and I thought it was very thoughtful.”

Tigris smiled softly. “That sounds like my Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus rose from his seat. He held up his glass, now empty. “I’m going for a refill,” he informed.

Everyone looked to Tigris as if searching for answers. She guided them towards another topic, smiling brightly as if unbothered. But it was in her eyes, the hurt, the confusion. After a little everyone seemed to forget the absence of him, though. Everyone almost seemed to blossom during it.

She was beginning to suspect that perhaps she’d bit off more than she could chew as she watched them all chattering away like that. Who was this man, she wondered, And why did he hold this much power even over people he seemed to love?

[orpiknight]

OrpiKnight's FAQ FAQ

For the Neil Gaiman Tumblr FAQ

GO S3 was announced! Will you be updating the FAQ still? Yep! :)

--- Who? Vel (blog OrpiKnight)

Why? I'm excited about Good Omens 2, I was looking through the Asks on Neil Gaiman's blog anyway, and I like having a constructive outlet when I'm going through so much information. And there were a lot of repeat questions. I mainly made it for me and my friends for reference, but then decided to go ahead and throw it out into the Tumblr void, too.

*Are a lot of these questions really frequently asked? Well, this started out being called a "QnA" doc because I was compiling the Asks. Then everyone kept calling it a "FAQ". So I rolled with it. It keeps up with the current Asks as much as possible, though. (I have no way of knowing how many times he gets asked some questions. That's for his inbox to know.)

Will you be actively updating it with new questions/answers? Yes. I update in batches now, every month or so. For my sanity. *When I update things, I usually put the new questions at the bottom of their section, even if they might fit next to something else in it better. This is just to make new ones easier to find. Later on I might reorganize them.

Can you put it in a Tumblr post? No. It's too much information, it can hang out on docs (which is 30+ pages). I'm pretty sure I would hit a word limit if I put it on here. Or break my dash. Or accidentally delete it. *You don't need a Google account to access it. I have tested this signed out on non-Chrome browsers. (I use Firefox btw)

You missed some Asks. Yeah... there is no way I could get all of them. I had to draw the line somewhere.

Some of the questions are strange. Don't I know it. Edit: But I do like to put in all sorts of questions. Sometimes there are things that don't even occur to me to ask that Neil says he gets constant questions about (like the ice cream/ice lolly). Sometimes there are things that I don't realize need clarifying (like "two consenting bicycle repairmen"). One person can ask a creatively specific question that other people are quietly wondering about. I also like the funny ones.

I found an error (typo/link not going to where it's supposed to/accidentally wrong info/etc.)?

But seriously, it's okay to message me to let me know. It's very helpful.

Can I have shared editing access to your document? No.

About the fanfiction thing... Please end my suffering. (And Neil Gaiman's) Edit: I should probably clarify that I do like fanfiction.

I have personal opinions. Please be nice to me.

Can you add or change this, that, or whatever? I work irl, am usually tired, and don't have much time to constantly edit every little thing. Unless you're Neil Gaiman himself asking, it's likely I'm just going to leave it how I organized it. And I mean that in the politest way possible. Speaking of, if you would like to help me out at all with things like bills, medical costs, and food— here's my: Venmo: @ajgvel Ko-fi page (It says you're giving me ducks on there! :D)

It's not expected of course. Regardless, much love to everyone, and thanks for making a space where we can all have fun together about something we enjoy. ♡

Find me on Bluesky: OrpiKnight

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 9: Polaroid (“you’re a liar”)

I purposely got off of tumblr and didn’t get sucked into lu update stuff too much because I knew that if I did I would never finish this XD But here’s today’s fic! I love writing Malon :)

Read on ao3

Warnings: kidnapping, some violence, and a broken bone

————————————————————

“I can’t find my pictobox!”

Time looked up at the complaint, and saw Wind digging through his bag and emptying it into a steadily increasing pile next to him. The others were packing up their gear to in preparation to move, and more than one exasperated face was thrown towards Wind’s mess.

“I wanted a picture of that cool island in the lake, but it’s gone!” Wind huffed as he leaned back, bag now empty. “Who took it?”

“Don’t look at me,” Wild said with his hands up, packing away his cooking supplies. “I don’t need it, I have my own camera.”

“I didn’t either!” Legend defended at Wind’s accusing finger, and the rest of them replied in the negative when Wind looked around at them all.

“We’ll help you look for it sailor,” Warriors said as he joined his side, and they began scouring the campsite.

Time glanced around where he was sitting, but there was no sign of the distinctive red and yellow device, and he shook his head, watching the others search. The camera had to be around here somewhere, Wind had been using it just the night before.

Hopefully it hadn’t been broken.

Time sighed, and prepared to get down on his knees to help search when the sound of footsteps made him look up. He wasn’t the only one who tensed towards his weapon, but it was merely the mailman, stepping through the reeds near their campsite, and they all relaxed.

“I have a letter, for a... Link,” he said with smile, holding it out. Time took it, as he was one of the only Links not crawling around in the rushes, and he smiled at the script.

He recognized Malon’s handwriting instantly, and felt something warm in his chest at the familiar loops. It hadn’t been too long since she’d sent him a letter, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“I also found this, does it belong to you?” the mailman asked, and Wind cheered as he saw the red and yellow device.

“My pictobox!” he yelled excitedly, and ran over and took it, studying it for any damage. “All right!”

“Thank you,” Time said politely, and the mailman gave him a surprisingly big grin.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

And then he was gone as unnaturally fast as always, Sky and Twilight both frozen in the act of getting up. They both sit back down with a grumble at their quarry lost (they both had questions about the mail service using unstable dark magic portals), and Time chuckled, grabbing a small knife to tease open the letter.

He had plenty of time to read it after all. Wind still needed to pack everything he owned back into his bag.

The sailor began cajoling Warriors to help him pack all his stuff together again, voice pleading, and Time finally got the seal off the letter, unfolding the paper with a smile.

Then felt his heart stop.

Surrender, and no further harm will come to her.

That was it. Nothing else.

Nine little words in scrawling, angry handwriting that was nothing like Malon’s, and they were enough to make Time feel like he’d been stabbed in the chest.

His heart finally started beating again, but it was going so fast it was like a panicked animal trapped in his chest, and his breathing began to pick up.

No further harm? What had her kidnapper already done to her? How had they known? Was she even—

“Old man? Are you okay?”

Twilight was looking at him in concern, and Time merely stared at him, still frozen in shock.

“Time, you’re as pale as a ghost, what did Malon say? Is she okay?” he repeated, and the rest of the Links looked at him in concern.

Time couldn’t get his mouth to work, and Legend sighed and moved around behind him so he could read the letter as well. He immediately paled, and looked between Time and the paper without saying anything for a moment.

“It’s not from Malon. Someone’s done something to her,” he said finally, and the clearing went dead silent. “It says to surrender, and... she won’t suffer any further harm.”

“Further?” Sky asked in a horrified voice, and they all looked at Time again.

He felt as if he was going to be sick.

“No, no way, it’s a trick. It has to be a trick,” Wild spoke up, voice fierce as he stood. “They’re lying Time, whoever it is has got to be lying, there’s no way Malon could...”

He trailed off, hands clenched into fists, and Twilight approached Time, his face white. He held out a hand, and Time handed him the letter with a grip that was definitely not shaking.

But another paper fluttered out between them as he handed it over, tucked into the envelope. Time snatched it up mere seconds before it touched the ground, and turned it over, staring at the picture in silence.

The mystery of where Wind’s pictobox had gone last night was immediately solved.

The photograph showed Malon in disarray, a look equally angry and frightened in her eyes where she was bound to a chair. Dark Link stood in the foreground, obviously holding the pictobox with one hand while he gestured to Malon with the other, a grin splitting his shadowed face.

There was a dark line of blood on Malon’s cheek.

Time’s numb shock snapped into a wave of pure fury, crashing over him as he stood up. He looked around at the other heroes, clenching the photograph so tightly it nearly ripped in his hands.

“We’re going. Now.”

(...)

Malon’s cheek hurt.

She let out a quiet sigh, the sound muffled by the cloth over her mouth. It was tied tight over her face, and it dug in painfully to the scratch the dark copy of her husband had given her. It stung rather badly, and was still bleeding a bit, and the blood soaking into the gag only made the whole situation that much more unpleasant.

Malon was proud of the reason she’d received the cut though, along with the sting in her knuckles and the handful of bruises she was sporting.

The Shadow of her husband had caught her by surprise, breaking into her house in the dead of night looking nearly identical to Link. Malon had only been fooled for a moment, and she’d done her best to fight him off and escape, managing a few solid punches before he’d overpowered her, and making his nose bleed all over her floor.

Then he’d tied her up, and gagged her when she kept demanding answers from him, bringing her through a shadowy portal like the ones her husband and the other boys had been traveling through.

She’d squirmed and fought and yelled at him the entire time, but he’d either ignored her, or given her a smile that made a shiver run down her spine. And then he’d taken her picture with a strange little device, and stalked away, leaving more then one monster stationed around the perimeter of the room, all watching her closely.

Their gazes made her skin prickle, and she dearly wished she could have a little privacy, or at least not be in the center of the room. She felt like some sort of garish display for people to gawk at, and the looks the monsters were giving her only made the feeling worse.

And truth be told, she was a bit frightened of what exactly Dark Link was planning on doing with her.

She breathed out, calming the panic that had been licking at her heels all night. She didn’t need to worry. Link would be along shortly, and nine heroes were nothing against a second-rate copy.

I hope.

A distant screech caught her attention, and she looked over at the doorway, the shadow of her husband also glancing in its direction. He waved some of the monsters through it, then moved around behind her somewhere where she couldn’t easily see him.

Having him so close but out of sight made her stomach twist.

A much closer shout rang through the doorway, and Malon felt her heart leap as a monster fell dead across the threshold, disappearing into dust. She knew that shout well.

Link entered the room seconds later with his sword already bloodied, the rest of the boys behind him looking equally tense and battle worn.

His gaze immediately sought her own, and a look equally relieved and furious shone in his eye. Malon would’ve tried to give him a reassuring smile, but her mouth was still gagged, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to dredge up a look that was truly comforting.

“That’s far enough.”

Something cold settled against her neck, and Malon breathed in sharply, a blood-red sword pressed to her skin.

The heroes all froze, staring at her with differing mixtures of fear and outrage on their faces. Dark Link stared at them all, watching to make sure none of them approached, then nodded, looking satisfied.

“Good. Now we can all have a nice, civil chat.”

“Not while you still threaten her,” Link said sharply, and Malon could hear how desperately he was holding back the emotion in his voice.

Oh fairy boy.

The other boys loudly agreed with him, and Dark Link looked around at them all, appearing entirely unbothered.

“I am dictating the terms here,” he replied smoothly, and looked at Malon with a smile that normally made her heart soar. “After all, I do seem to hold all of the cards.”

Malon fixed her husband’s shadow with the most intense glare she could manage, wishing her mouth was free to tell him just what she thought of him. He had the audacity to laugh at her though, and something almost possessive shone in his eyes as she glared. The sword at her neck eased just a little, and he leaned closer to her, practically nose-to-nose.

His breath even smelled like Link’s, and Malon froze, suddenly terrified of what he was going to do.

“I see why you married her, she’s got spirit, this one,” Dark Link purred, holding her chin in an almost terrifyingly gentle grip. His fingers felt like ice. “She’s quite the catch.”

“Release her,” Link nearly snarled, and surprisingly enough the Shadow obeyed, his fingers slipping off her face. The sword never left her neck though, and Malon forced herself not to shake as it teased her skin again.

“I made my demands abundantly clear, Hero of Time, and I think they’re quite reasonable,” Dark Link said, sliding his blade just enough to make pain trickle across Malon’s neck. “Surrender, and no further harm will come to her.”

“What proof do we have that you’ll stick with it?” Twilight interjected, his face just as dark as her Link’s.

“Yeah, we have no guarantee!” Wind shouted, and the others joined in, “why should we do anything you say?!”

Dark Link smiled.

“Because you have no choice.”

He abruptly twisted around and grabbed Malon’s arm, the ropes at her wrists cut off with his sword. Before she could even register what was happening, he twisted to the side, and a horrible crack echoed through the room.

Malon couldn’t hold back her scream.

Pain burst up her arm and shoulder, white sparking in her vision, and there was a sudden rush of noise from where the Heroes were standing, shouts and cries of outrage, and questions of if she was okay.

But Malon couldn’t focus on anything at the moment, just the pain blazing up her arm. She knew immediately something was broken, possibly in more then one place, but before she could even try to ease the pain or calm herself down, something twisted her arm around and it got even worse.

She couldn’t stop herself from crying out again as Dark Link replaced the ropes around her wrists, roughly pulling her arms behind her back. Tears trickled out of her eyes and dampened the gag, and every breath was more painful then the last.

The sound of a weapon clattering to the ground pulled her out of the worst of the pain clouding her mind, and she looked up, meeting Link’s eyes through her tears.

“I surrender!” he shouted, staring at her in horror. His sword was on the ground, and he raised his hands up, turning a glare on Dark Link that was filled with such hatred Malon was surprised he didn’t burn up on the spot.

“I surrender. Let her go.”

“I’m glad we came to an understanding,” Dark Link smiled, ignoring the glare, “very noble of you. But I didn’t mean just you, Hero of Time. I want all of your complete surrenders in exchange for her safety.”

Link’s eyes flashed, but he looked behind him at where the others stood, watching him hesitantly. A few moments of silence went by, and Malon felt a hand curl its fingers around her unbroken arm.

“Do I need to make myself more clear?”

“No,” Sky replied quickly, and the other heroes dropped their weapons, looking just as angry and worried as Malon’s own Link did.

Dark Link removed his hand from her shoulder, and Malon couldn’t stifle a shudder, her heart sinking as she watched the last of the heroes place their weapons on the floor. Boys no, don’t let him use me against you!

“Good... now we’re getting somewhere,” Dark Link grinned, looking pleased as pudding. “I want your bags on the floor too, and any magical items you might be wearing. All nine of you will soon—”

He stopped suddenly, red eyes narrowing as they trailed along the heroes.

“We seem to be missing someone,” Dark Link said in a low voice, and the heroes went still. “Where is the First of the Downfall? The one you call Hero of Legend?”

The room went silent, apart from an unsteady breath from Malon.

Then there was a quiet swish of a cape, and the Hero of Legend suddenly appeared out of nothing, charging at Dark Link with his sword high and eyes blazing with torchlight.

He threw himself at the shadow, and Dark Link was forced to hold his sword up to defend himself, removing it from Malon’s neck. The room erupted into chaos as their blades clashed, and the heroes quickly grabbed their weapons. They leapt forward, the monsters around the perimeter running to stop them, and screeches and yelling echoed all over the room.

And Malon couldn’t do anything but watch it happen, her arm still burning white hot with pain.

She watched Legend narrowly dodge a strike that would have killed him, and looked down at herself, shoulder aching as she tilted her head. Wriggling loose of her ropes wasn’t even a possibility now that she had an opportunity to, her arm entirely uncooperative, and frustration broke through her pain.

Malon looked down at her arm, nausea twisting in her stomach at the angle it was at.

I have to try.

She experimentally wiggled her good arm, trying to see if she could at least loosen the ropes. But pain ripped through the broken one with even that tiny movement, and she gasped, closing her eyes as she fought back more tears of pain.

Okay. Okay, wait a bit, then try again.

You have to get out of here.

As if summoned by her thoughts, something suddenly pulled at the ropes on her feet, and Malon dizzily looked down, trying to focus on who was helping her. All she could make out was blond hair though, bent over her ankles. A different set of hands was at her back, pulling off her gag and ever-so-gently removing the ropes at her wrists.

Her breath hitched with pain when the hands accidentally nudged her arm, and there was an apology in her ear, then a rustle as the ropes fell to the ground.

A hand very carefully shifted her arm to a better position, and Malon squeezed her eyes shut, trying not shout at the pain. But once it was let go, Malon could actually focus a little better now that the ropes weren’t twisting it around. It still hurt, rather badly, but not quite to the extent it had.

She looked up at who had freed her, and saw Twilight standing next to Four and Sky, the two keeping a sharp eye on the fight around them while Twilight looked her over with no small alarm.

“Malon, are you okay?” he asked, the worry on his face only growing as he studied her arm. “...never mind, that’s a stupid question. How bad is your arm?”

“It’ll be okay,” she replied, voice mostly not shaking, and squeezed Twilight’s hand with her good one. “Thank you, hon.”

Twilight helped her up, ears pricked for any monsters that might approach, and Malon rubbed at her cheeks, sore from how tight the gag had been. Her stomach twisted when she felt something move in her arm, and she held a little tighter to Twilight’s arm as the pain spiked.

“I’m sorry, I’d offer you a potion, but we’ll have to set your arm first,” Twilight apologized, looking a little frantic as she forced herself to keep her breathing steady through the pain. Easy does it Malon. “And that’ll have to wait until we’re somewhere safe.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and Twilight began to lead her away from the worst of the fighting.

Four stayed nearby, giving her an encouraging look before returning his gaze to the fight around them. Sky stayed a bit further away, but he didn’t go far, and they both acted as a sort of guard as Twilight led her across the room. Her world narrowed to mostly Twilight’s arm supporting her as they walked, and the pain that only seemed to get worse in her arm.

She couldn’t entirely bite back a gasp when it abruptly spiked, and swallowed back her nausea as Twilight gently squeezed her hand.

They’d stopped walking at some point, she wasn’t sure when. She was afraid to raise her head and check if they’d left the room or not, worried the nausea she felt in the back of her throat would win and she’d end up making even more of a mess of herself. Talking was going on around her, possibly directed at her, but she couldn’t focus on any of it, just the pain that wouldn’t go away in her arm.

Then a voice cut through the fog she’d been drifting through, sharp and frantic.

“Malon!”

She raised her head, and suddenly Link was holding her, pressing her into his arms, murmuring frantic apologies and assurances as she buried her head in his shoulder and allowed herself a couple more tears.

Relief swept through Malon as Link held her, carefully not touching her arm, running trembling fingers through her hair. She could hear his heart thumping rapidly where her ear was pressed to his neck, and she merely listened to it for a moment as he held her, warm and safe.

Link finally pulled back enough to properly look at her face, and his thumb gently caressed her cheek, right next to the cut Dark Link had given her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes still shining with fear.

“I think I should be asking you that,” she said with a teasing smile, but her voice shook, and Link’s face creased further. He carefully ran a hand over her arm and shoulder, Malon flinching at the pain that shot up her arm at his touch, and he winced and apologized.

Someone said something over his shoulder, and Link looked back and replied, though Malon didn’t catch everything that was said.

“...Is Legend okay?” she asked suddenly, remembering how he’d leapt at the Shadow.

“He’s fine. Dark Link got away, but he’ll think twice before coming after you again,” Twilight said with a smile, and Malon blinked. She hadn’t realized he was still nearby.

“I gave him something to remember me by, that’s for sure,” Legend’s voice said from somewhere nearby. His tone was satisfied, but it held something dangerous in it.

Link’s arms went around her more tightly again, and Malon looked up at him, a storm of all sorts of emotions on his face. He caught her looking, and gave her a slightly brittle smile.

“I’m okay,” she reassured gently, and he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I’ve done that to you enough to know you’re absolutely not telling the truth,” he replied, but his smile was a little more genuine then before. “We’ll get you healed as soon as we’re able, Malon.”

Malon nodded, and ignored how her arm still hurt like it was being trampled on, and how her stomach still twisted with nausea, merely setting her chin on Link’s shoulder again.

“Thank you fairy boy,” she said softly, and Link held her as tight as he could without hurting her arm. “I wish I could have stopped him.”

Link let out a trembling sigh.

“I’m just relieved you’re okay.”

[vesselsscarlet]

Please read.

Its important:

Alright.

I didn't want to do this but... here we are now.

We need to talk.

About the project. A serious talk.

This is my perspective, and I am pretty certain Crow signs it as well.

Crow sent me in the last few days the asks they received, just because they are transparent and they also hold me accountable enough as the second-in-charge. (Thanks boo, for also letting me answer things, or re-reading your answers if I wanted to add something)

And I must admit, it made me very upset.

Not directly at the anon*s, asking, but the entire situation made me.

I can totally understand if you want things to be perfect, it is totally fine if you are still handing them in, we seriously couldn't care less.

I can also understand fully if you haven't heard from the project until Crow was posting the reminders, using the tag.

But-

We didn't want to push things. And maybe we should have done that.

The only problem that was in the way is called

LIFE.

Yes, it may seem simple. But trust me.

Working on this project together and still having a distance from at least 4 hours of a train ride between us, plus having things going on in our lives didn't make it easier.

That's why we asked for checking out the tag regularily, especially if you haven't seen any updates yet.

Maybe we should have pinned something about this project, maybe it just vanished deep inside in the Tumblr lore.

But, ...

I participated in the Epistolary Collection project, and I could submit my letter. And I could make it because I had a deadline for myself. I added it in my phone calendar, so I wouldn't forget it.

And so would I for this project since it really means a lot to me.

But obviously, I have got a bit of more time.

We didn't want to pressure you with the reminders.

But after receiving not that many submissions via. E-Mail, Tumblr and none via. Discord, we decided to remind you.

And then receiving asks about this whole situation with little participation etc., ... trying to find reasons why it could be like that... stung me. (If any of the anon*s is seeing this, I am not mad at you, I am just frustrated and tired)

We felt like our project isn't valuable, that it isn't enough.

But this project came to life while I was living in London for my stay abroad, and now I cannot do anything but post this words here because I am busy with university and private circumstances.

We were sure that not everyone would actually participate or would be able to do so, but the result is making us sad.

We wanted to make it happen because of YOU.

Because we know that Sleep Token and especially Vessel connects US.

But please...

Why are you asking us why we didn't get submissions? Was it because of another project?

Hell, we announced this project in December, we tried to keep you updated in our best way possible.

Just because we didn't want to go on Instagram for it? Seriously?

We don't have any of a big appearance on Instagram, and I also don't like the fact of you seeing my personal account with pictures of me included.

I want to stay anonymous here, when it comes to showing myself.

Guys, you have no idea how hard it is to manage something big like this from two cities around the world, while being so limited in actions. Was it too much to ask to check regularily the tag? That's all we asked for. And we cannot run after you like little puppies, calling you by your names and asking "Can you please submit stuff now, pretty please."

The advice on checking the tag regularily was the only option we had, so you could read everything that was posted in it. Any update we had was posted in there. And if there still were questions you could have asked us privately or via. the ask tool. We just wanted to let you guys doing stuff. But please... why are you blaming us (more or less) for people simply forgetting it? There could have been ways where it would have been possible to get the updates. Like... adding yourself a reminder once a month, checking the tag out if you have missed something (I am just doodling ideas because that would have been me if I wasn't the co-leader of this project. It's not calling you out and telling you what to do and what not.)

You all are old enough to be in charge of doing something.

But we can just say...

We are sad. Very sad.

Because our project might be not come to live. Perhaps not for these upcoming rituals at least.

How on earth is it possible that after setting things straight, people tend to submit things?

As I said... if you didn't hear about the project first, if you simply forgot about it, if you were busy... that's fine.

But stop asking us why it was the case.

It is making us angry and upset.

We wish we could tell you why it was and still is the case.

But we can't. We have to accept it.

However...

Thank you to everyone so far, who has participated so far, we are eternally grateful that you want to share your stuff and maybe also intimate/personal words with us.

Your words for Vessel are gently appreciated and your kind soul will be blessed.

Thank you for reading this.

– Lia (and Crow @aquareegia )

[he-goes-down]

0. There Was A Time

fic chapters/warnings/disclaimers/ect

:DISCLAIMER:

Mentions of drugs/ sex ect.

English is not my first language

POV changes

x reader

inconsistent updates

time line is not perfect or accurate

Character may also not be accurate

I'll also be posting this on wattpad and maybe ao3

So if you see it wasn't stolen<3

Also i dont know how tumblr works and how to link chapters together(someone send help)

ALSO THIS NOT EDITED IN ANYWAY SO SORRY IF THERE ARE SPELLING MISTAKES

THANK YOU FOR READING MWUAH MWUAH

LEAVE COMMENTS <3

The studio was warm in the coldest night of this Autumn, warm yellowish light and the red carpeted floor made it feel like a cosy log cabin. A full drum set with a few too many ride cymbals and windchimes sat close to the middle of the fat bare bricked wall, with a small metal bucket that had the remains of broken splinter drumsticks. A rack of guitars and two bass holders stood next to the right wall where an old armchair sits, a few different sized amps scattered round the square room. Right in front of the glass that separates the control room from the studio three mic stand in a line with noise cancelling boxes surrounding each of them.

In the control room there is a strong smell of weed and other smokeable herbs, "No! You can't take Runaway Blues off the album!" A man with short shoulder length brown hair and a moustache protested as he puffed on his cigarette as he lied back on the couch, his dark glasses fell back on his face as he tilted his head back. "I agree with Jake. It shows how good we are even when we're shit faced." The man with long curly hair, a gorgeous ethnic nose, stood up – towering over the other 4 people in the sesh – and began to roll another blunt on one of the control panels. The one that started this debated piped in, "Thanks Dan for taking my side." He said sarcastically, his curly mullet was like a solid cloud on his head, and he has a moustache like Jake. "We'll our wonderful manager and producer here," A man that looked like Jesus pointed to a woman that sat next to Jake on the couch. "Was the one that wasn't shit faced, I think that's why it was actually good, Joshua." He finished. "Hey, hey, I'm not saying it's shit because of you, please believe me y/n!" Josh dramatically pleaded to y/n. She was looking up at the ceiling. Pupils dilated. Blunt in hand. "Just, make it shorter." She said confidently, waving her hand a bit. Still not looking at anyone and head craned back. "You have the answer to everything." Danny said his mouth slightly gaped that such a simple solution didn't register in any of their minds. Or he's just on a psychedelic trip and can't spark up a brain cell.

The following week the band had dates in LA since they were still doing there 'Dreams in Gold' Tour. The band was already at the venue setting up, some still sleeping in the bus. Y/n had some business to attend to in their studio in New York before going down to LA. She decided to walk down the infamous Sunset Strip, as a historic music place like this could not go untrekked when having the chance. Wearing a black turtleneck, dark blue flare jeans with dark brown boots and a satchel bag hanging from her shoulder, a small suitcase's handle in the other hand while the silver case dragged its wheels on the floor. As she caught the sight of the colourful sign of The Rainbow, a voice called to her. "Y/n?" A older man, short blondish hair, leather jacket, sunglasses.

Axl Rose.

And like the trigger of a gun being pulled,

A life was lost.

(or misplaced)

Y/n's POV:

Everything stood still,

I stood still.

Then it all went dark. It was a black lifeless void.

Falling backwards but being physically still.

Time was reversing.

A previous life. My life?

Memories rolling past like an old film.

My head spiralled.

I can't comprehend this. What is happening to me?

My first years of school, late 60's early 70's. That's not right. It was the early 2000's.

Falling in love with music, Queen, Elton John.

Highschool was trip. My parents being stricter than anyone else's, they didn't believe I could have a job as in the music industry.

Studying music in college then going on the Uni and taking a science course to get my folks off my back.

One of my most successful record deals was Mötley Crüe and Bon Jovi.

Before they even started writing lyrics for their songs, I knew it off by heart and helped them gain success with it and recording went like dream.

Now I was searching the East Coast for a new band to sign.

March 1985, The City of Angels.

A flash of light, and my eyes flickered open.

It a cold night, dark but the city light was somewhat comforting.

It was the Sunset Strip, but something was...

Off.

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

OMG SORRY IF IT'S SHIT

THIS WAS LIKE THE INTRODUCTION, FIRST PART IS COMING OUT SOON 

IM SO EXCITED

(Band at the beginning is greta van fleet )

[pbpsbff]

happy 1 year of r&r :)

i know it's a lil cringe to like. celebrate the birthday of a series on ao3 but r&r is literally my child. my baby. i birthed this series. and you all signed up for this when u started reading my fics thank u

soooooooo thank u guys for all the support i've received over r&r i know it's hard to stay a consistent reader when my posting schedule is entirely non existent but i am so grateful for everyone who's stuck around this long and been with me for this journey (calling it a journey because a year ago i did not have any sort of overarching plot in mind and now we're 17? 18? fics deep and so many things have happened and i'm usually just as surprised as my readers) it's rlly u guys that have kept me going this long

ANYWAY. i rewrote this like 500 times cause i hate being like. overly sappy on this account because it's way funnier to act like a celebrity with a huge ego, but real talk i am so proud of everything i've done w this series & what it's become in the past year

i've been posting my writing online since i was like 10, so we're going on almost 9 years now and i don't think i've ever ever ever received as much support for something as i have for r&r and something about that is soooo special to me??? idk it's just so nice to see a completely self indulgent series become so loved by others, especially since the only other fics i had up before gmm&m were a little more on the "i'm gonna write what seems popular right now" side???

like shoutout to everyone who was here before/around when i started the series because my account was so empty like. 2 fics and one gets updated every 6 months. r&r pulled me out of the trench i fear. it also cured me of my very horrible disease that makes me delete all my fics after 9 months and then completely disappear from a fandom so everyone say thank you r&r

but yeah idk where i'm going with this i'm very grateful for r&r and all the friends i've made and people i've met through it because i was very lonely before i rejoined tumblr and r&r was like. 90% of the reason i made my account

AND SPEAKING OF FRIENDS. thank u to

@spidergrotto & @sapoteylx for being the first ppl i met on here to openly talk about and support r&r which i thought was so so cool even if you guys have become my haters in the past few months i've known you :/ thank u r&r nation u keep me humble and miserable (and i am very thankful for our friendship i think some aspects of r&r would be very different if we'd never met)

& ao3 user classactical because you've been here since like. a month or two into the series i think and i always always always look forward to your comments because i feel like if you comment, i did a good job on the fic LOL thank u for sticking around for so long, even if ao3 has been actively working against you for a whiiiiile

there's a lot more i want to say and a lot of people i want to mention but that would take a very long time and i always feel weird tagging a lot of people in posts so just know if u read r&r we are kissing rn. or high fiving idk whatever floats ur boat i guess

but yeah anyway tl:dr happy birthday r&r i'm very proud of this series & very thankful for everyone who has read any part of it ever u guys are so cool and hot and have amazing taste and i'm taking your kudos and bookmarks etc. as you swearing your allegiance to me and promising me your undying support no matter what (legally binding btw) thank u guys

[hoodmancol]

Hello there, comrades on Rotomblr! I had quite a blast talking to people from my assistant's blog that I made him make me a blog! I can't find his blog though, what a shame. I know I remembered his blog name, but nothing shows up!

My name is Colress. He/Him. No, I am not wanted in Unova for any war crimes, that is simply not like me! I believe Orion also said he may log onto my account to make sure I am not 'behaving badly'. In such case, I will have an emoji next to my posts and he will too! I sign off with -🔬 and he signs off with -🦾

All of that mail and such is turned on, I believe!

last update 9/24 13:01 (ooc section update)

[ooc]

hello! welcome to the ooc section of this blog... please, read it through before interacting! don't worry, as much text as there is, there are brief summaries.

about the mun/mod!

my name is adon! of course, you could refer to me as adonciant or guy either. i dont mind! i go by he/him only, but if you want to use any neopronouns, feel free. i am a minor! my main is @adonciant, which is where likes and follows will come from. of course, all my rp blogs are also listed in my pinned on main!

when a post is signed off with ~🎱, that means its me speaking. it will always be paired with ooc post

─ⵌ call me adon, he/him! main is @adonciant! ~🎱 is muns signoff

interaction!

pelipper mail/unmail/malice: allowed!

musharna mail/malice: allowed!

mystery gifts: allowed!

magic anon: allowed!

in-character anon hate: allowed!

ooc/questions: allowed!

anyone is allowed to interact with my blogs! fallers, eeby deebys, hybrids, sapients, self-inserts, ocs, and in-game characters are all very welcomed!

if you ever want to start a roleplay, it's best to discuss it with me first within the blogs dms, unless i already allowed an offscreen post.

note: if i dont get around to an ask, never take it personally! i will always read any asks i get, but i just may not respond if i dont find it necessary.

─ⵌ all interaction from all blogs are allowed, but discuss offscreen roleplays with me beforehand. i may not be able to get around to your ask, but don't take it personally!

boundaries/notices

─the mod is a minor, and the character is 32! slightly suggestive asks are fine, but never should it come close to nsfw. just because colress is 32 doesnt mean you be weird to him.

─if you ever want to establish a connection between our characters, or want to plan events with yours involved, im always open for it! just dm me on either discord [username is adonciant] or on tumblr itself. i will be more than willing to hear your ideas and see what we can do!

─often times, i will do long threads of interaction. i like to reblog back and interact, but if you ever want me to stop without a sign in the roleplay itself for it to end, please tell me! alongside this, my threads do not get tagged with anything.

─there are a handful of content warnings to this blog. to roughly list, scientific experimentation/human bioegineering, mentions of war crimes/terrorism from unova, emotional abuse/manipulation, mild suggestive jokes, and alcoholism. this list is always subject to change, so stay aware. any triggering topics are tagged with associated tags ('topic' tw)

─ⵌ slighty suggestive asks are allowed, but nsfw is never allowed, always try to contact me if you want to establish connections or events, and heed the warnings! [you will need to read over the warnings.]

extra notes

this is a canon character, and the first time i played a canon character! however, he follows a specific story from after his involvement during/after alola. his canon is also mixed with headcanons, the games, and the manga. i probably wont respond to any asks that steer his story away from what is already established with him.