#BUT it also made me hold back on redrawing that moment cause if i do then that shit better be my magnum opus

[welcometogrouchland]

FOR DRAWING REQUESTS MAYBE LUZ AND HER PALISMAN OR LUZ N THE BIG OL SPARKLY EYES

END OF VALENTINES JUMPSCARE I'M FINALLY POSTING THE FOR THE FUTURE REQS!!!! Another anon also asked for stringbean content so this is for both of you lol <3

[ID: 2 digital drawings based on the owl house. The first image shows Luz in her outfit from for the future. She's posed similar to azura in the opening scene of the first episode, holding stringbean who's mouth is open and ready to fire. Luz is making a smug expression, saying "now eat this sucka". The background is a bright yellow. The second image is a doodle featuring Luz, Vee and stringbean. In the image, Luz is showing stringbean to vee, saying "she's a snakeshifter! Just like you" as Vee looks at her with a teary eyed comical expression. The background is light yellow. End ID]

[fearfully-fiction]

St. Albans Pt.4- Dakota Laden x Reader

word count:3625

warnings: Fluff/comfort. PaRaNoRmAl aCtiViTy *insert spongebob meme*

Summary: Based on season 1 episode 4 of DF so all credit to the crew, the show, and the channel! Coming back together after separation reader and Dakota have a comforting conversation before deciding where to sleep alone.

part1! part2! part3!

(not my gif!)

The doors opened and you took a deep breath of fresh air. Dakota went to film with Alex and you went to talk to Tanner.

“Hey Tanner.” you greeted your friend. “Hey (y/n)? You ok?” he asked you. “Yeah, I’m ok. I just wanted to say sorry for overreacting earlier. It was really silly of me, and I hope you know I would never actually mean that.” You apologized. He looked down at you with a smile. “I know (y/n), it’s ok. I know you just want to protect him and I do too. C’mere.” He said and opened his arms to you. You wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly. “I want you safe too Tanner, I want all of you safe I hope you know that,” you said to your friend. “I know that, and I want you safe too we all do. We’ll keep each other safe.” he said and let go. You nodded your head in agreement. "Of course.”

Dakota walked over to you both and you could see his eyes looked a bit glassy. Your heart sunk he walked straight to you and wrapped his arms around you. Tanner walked away letting you both have a moment. 

“What happened my love?” you asked softly as his head rested in the crook of your neck. 

“I swear it doesn’t want us down there. I’m so nervous about this. I really don’t want anyone going back down there. I don’t want to go back down there.” he admitted to you. 

You held him tighter and kissed his head. “I’m so sorry babe, I don’t want you down there either. I can’t stand the thought of you down there by yourself,” you said and he pulled away. You placed your hands on his cheeks. He looked at you with those beautiful eyes that you loved so much. You could see the fear glimmer in his eyes, and it caused a frown to form on your face. 

“If you get the basement/bowling alley, I don’t want you to go alone. I’ll go with you ok,” you reassured him.  “No, I don’t want to bend the rules because I’m scared. You’ll have your walkie close?” He asked you. “Of course I will, but are you sure you don’t want me with you?” you asked him just to make sure.

“I’m sure,” he answered you. You nodded and let your hands slip from his face and down to his shoulders. Rubbing his shoulders gently trying to calm him down a bit. He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours letting his hands grip your waist, your hands moved from his shoulders and to the back of his neck to play with his hair. He sighed into the kiss held you tighter. Your lips moved together slowly as if trying to memorize the feeling. 

“Hey! If you guys would stop making out I’d like to get this night over with!” Alex called over to you. You broke away and took a breath before letting a smile fall on your lips and dropping your head onto his shoulder. He let out a chuckle, something you haven’t heard all night and it made your smile brighter. “I guess we should appease the crowd huh?” you asked with a raised brow. 

“I think it would be best,” he said. You let go of him and were about to grab his hand and walk back to the group but he pulled you back to him and pressed one more short kiss on your lips just to annoy the group. You heard aggravate groaning and it made you giggle against his lips. You pulled away once more and dragged him toward your friends. “Alright, alright, we’re here. Sorry.” You jokingly apologized. Chelsea shook her head and bit back a smile. 

--

“Alright. So, right now, we are going to sleep separately. This is gonna raise our fear levels, and hopefully, ramp up the activity in the sanatorium.” Your boyfriend informed the audience. 

You rolled your eyes. “I totally hope that happens.” you retort sarcastically. “I know right.” Dakota shot back. You glared at him playfully. 

“So, we should agree on the five scariest locations. We already kinda have,” he said and looked at you all. “Yeah. we know it is definitely the bowling alley.” Tanner said. 

“Bowling alley for sure is the worst one,” Dakota said. 

“The electroshock therapy room.” Chelsea put it out there as well. 

“Absolutely the electroshock therapy room, so many people were tortured there,” you said. 

“And then the suicide bathroom for sure.” Tanner threw that on the table as well. 

“Suicide bathroom it’s on the third floor you’re so far away from everyone else. So yeah the three that we have are on this building.” Dakota said. “Someone should be in the east building in that creepy winding corridor.” Tanner also suggested. “Yeah, the basement.” you piped up. 

“So, we did a walk-through of the east building earlier, and nothing happened, but when we were down in the basement that’s when it felt like we were not alone,” Dakota explained to everyone. 

“We also have the boiler room, which really fucking creeped me out,” you said and a shiver ran up your spine at the thought of having to sleep alone down there. 

“Right yeah,” Chelsea confirmed. 

“So Tanner’s gonna now write these five locations out on paper and then we’re gonna draw out of a hat and decide where we sleep for the night.” Tanner placed all of the locations in the hat, and you clenched and unclenched your fists nervously. 

“Okay, you got it?” Dakota asked him. 

Tanner held out the hat toward Chelsea first and you could tell she was nervous. 

She quickly grabbed one and showed the small crumpled ball of paper to the camera with a nervous smile. 

“Alright Chelsea, where are you sleeping?” her brother asked her. She looked right at him. 

“I don’t even want to tell you,” she said and you chuckled. 

You looked at her paper over her shoulder and cringed. 

“Ooh. Electroshock.” All of you cringed at the location. “That’s the second-worst one, you said.” She relays. 

Dakota moved the camera forward to get a good look at her paper. “Chelsea got the electroshock therapy room. I think Alex should draw next.” He suggested with a grin. 

“Alex.” he held the hat out for him, he reached his hand in and pulled out a paper to unravel his location. 

“Suicide bathroom,” he said with disappointment dripping from his words as he showed the camera. 

“Not to scare you anymore Alex but you are three whole floors above anyone else,” Dakota said, and you placed your hand on your best friend’s arm in a comforting manner. “You’ll be ok Al.” you smiled at him reassuringly. 

“Ok babe, you’re up. It’s between the east basement, bowling alley, and the boiler room,” he said and gave you a grin. 

“I better not get the boiler room or I’ll be pissed I swear.” you shook your head as you reached in to grab a paper. “Hey, at least you won’t be three floors away from anyone else,” Alex said. You gave him a sarcastic grin. “Yeah, that makes me feel great Al.” he chuckled at you. 

“Alright, let’s see what you got,” Chelsea said while looking over your shoulder as you unraveled the paper. 

The minute your eyes scanned the paper you immediately dropped your arms to your sides in exasperation. “No way. No way in hell!” you exclaimed. 

“She got the boiler room,” Chelsea explained to everyone. “I got the damn boiler room.” you sighed before holding up the paper to the camera. 

Alex threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you into a side hug. You leaned into it and sighed. 

You grabbed Dakota’s camera and began filming for him while he and Tanner chose. 

“I hope it’s not the bowling alley because I feel like I’ve been picked on this whole night.” he ran his hands through his hair out of anxiety. “Ok, whatever. I’m just gonna do it. I’m just gonna do it” he tried to muster the courage and reached into the hat when Tanner did. When both of them had their paper. 

“Open at the same time. Don’t look.” Alex said. 

They both unraveled their paper at the same time. “Bowling alley.” your boyfriend read off and your stomach lurched. “No!” he exclaimed loudly while Tanner jumped in excitement and relief that he didn’t have to sleep down there. While you were happy for him you were extremely worried for your boyfriend seeing as he most definitely was being messed with down there. Dakota had a smile on his face but you knew just how scared he was of that place and it broke your heart. 

“Dude, I got touched down there. A handprint showed up on my back,” he said. You looked away because tears were collecting in your eyes. “I’m scared for all three of us,” Chelsea said and looked at her brother. 

“Honestly, the bowling…” he cut himself off. “Can we redraw?” he asked.

You sighed and turned away from everyone else preparing to go get your things for the sleeping arrangements. Your boyfriend noticed that you had gone completely silent and looked over at you. Your back was turned to him, and he could practically see you trying to not breathe too hard.

He could tell that you were about to cry and made his way over to you. 

The others were already grabbing their things. 

“Hey,” he said trying to get your attention. You didn’t turn around and so he tried again this time walking around to face you. “Hey, babe look at me,” he said and you released a shaky breath before looking up at him. He could see the shine in your eyes from unshed tears and sighed. 

He pulled you into a hug and you held him tightly. 

“We can trade places. I know the boiler room still sucks and it’s super close, but it would be better than the bowling alley,” you suggested though it was a bit muffled by his chest seeing as you buried your head there. 

Though your voice was muffled he heard you and pulled away from you. “There is no way, I would ever let you sleep in that bowling alley. Not after what happened tonight and to Chelsea last time. I’ll be ok, we’re close together ok. If you scream for me I’ll be right there, and I know you’d do the same for me. We’ll be ok babe, I promise you.” he said and kissed away the tears that fell down your cheeks. He nudged your nose with his gently and placed a kiss on it. It brought a small smile to your lips, and he smiled as well. “We’ll be ok,” he reassured you both one more time before grabbing your hand so you could both gather your things and head to your locations. 

--

You all walked Alex up to the third floor and helped him set up. You made sure to give him a big supportive hug before leaving. “Love you Al!” you called while walking away. “Love you (y/n)!” he called back. 

You made your way down to electroshock to drop off Chels and help her set up before giving her a hug as well. All of you said your I love you’s, getting the same response back. The next stop was Dakota, you and Tanner help him set up and Tanner wished him luck. You walked over and kissed him. “I love you, Kota. Just walkie me ok, or scream whatever you think will work better.” you joked a bit. He gave you a soft chuckle before kissing your cheek. You began to walk away with Tanner and sighed when you reached the boiler room. 

You set your stuff down and Tanner helped you set the camera up before giving you a hug and wishing you luck. “Hey, wait,” you called after him. He turned back around with his flashlight in hand. “You ok?” he asked. “Yeah, I just wanted to know if you wanted me to walk with you so you aren’t alone,” you said to him. He gave you a warm smile and shook his head. “No, no I’ll be ok. Plus if I ever said yes to that here I’m pretty sure Dakota would kick my ass.” he joked which made you laugh. “I guess you’re not wrong. Well if you need anything just walkie me alright,” you said and he nodded. “Night, Tanner, love you!” you called and he responded the same. 

--

 You sat yourself on the ground and sighed heavily knowing you were not even going to be able to shut your eyes that night. “This is gonna be a night from hell…” you spoke to yourself. 

“So, I am in the boiler room which is right next to the bowling alley actually so me and Dakota are very close to each other. Which is really strange because none of us have been this close in a location before but hey, I am not complaining about it,” you spoke to the camera. “At least I’ll be close to my boyfriend if I die here,” you said with a sigh.

As soon as the words left your mouth you hear what sounded like faint laughter. Your heart dropped as you shone your flashlight throughout the room. “That was a laugh, I just heard a laugh.” you began to panic. “Shit, I hope the camera caught that,” you mumbled to yourself. 

The night had just started and you already felt more unsafe than before. 

You picked up your walkie to get a hold of Dakota to ask if he had heard it too. Seeing as you were practically right next to him he had to have heard it. 

“Kota,” you called. 

“(y/n), what’s up?” he asked with a concerned tone. 

“Did you just hear laughter? Or did you maybe laugh at all?” you asked him anxiously. 

“What? No, I didn’t laugh. You heard laughter?” he asked in a panic. 

At that moment you could just tell you were screwed. 

“Yeah, it was very faint but I heard it. I’m not sure where it came from but I swear on my life I heard it,” you explain to him. “We’re not even 20 minutes in, and this is already frickin sick,” you said in a frustrated huff. 

“We’ve got this, only a few hours left ok.” his voice crackled through the walkie. 

“Alright Kota, you know what to do if you need me,” you told him. 

“Got it see you soon.” he ended. 

You went back to just sitting in the dark just waiting for something to come out at you. You knew for a fact that you were not alone in the room. It made your skin crawl at the feeling of someone or something watching you. 

--

You sat there in the dark making sure to listen for Dakota if he yelled for you or if something happened. As you sat there you still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Seeing as you were so focused on listening you suddenly heard something go by you. It wasn’t like walking more like the sound of shuffling as if someone were to crawl across the floor. It made you freeze in your place your breath got caught in your throat and you felt completely helpless. You wanted to walkie your boyfriend or even just yell for him because you were so scared but you didn’t want him to worry more than he already was. You knew that something wasn’t willing to let up and it scared you more than you had been at any other location. 

You finally let out a shaky breath, “I just heard something literally crawl past me I swear on my life. I know I’ve been like a baby this entire night but damn…” your voice broke. You hated feeling weak but tonight you just couldn’t help it. You were extremely emotional and it most definitely wasn’t helping your situation. You needed to pull yourself together for your sake and everyone else’s. “Ok, I’m pulling myself together. I’m gonna be ok, Dakota is gonna be ok, we’re all gonna be ok. We’re stronger than this thing.” you spoke to yourself as calmly and confidently as you could. After saying this you once again heard faint laughter and it made you jump and turn your flashlight on to scan around the room. Still, you saw nothing but knew you would always feel something watching you. You took a breath and kept the light on for a few more seconds before turning it off and trying to push the events to the side. You just tried to focus on everyone else and it seemed to help slightly so that’s what you kept in your mind.

--

It was about an hour later when you began hearing noises again. You heard what sounded like tapping, “what the hell?” you whispered. 

Then you heard your boyfriend from the other room. 

“What the fuck? Ok. No. No.” your head snapped in his direction. 

“Dakota! Hey, are you ok?!” you yelled. You heard him gasp. “Shit” he mumbled. 

“Did you not hear that?!” he called to you. “The tapping?!” you asked. “No, the loud scratching noise!” he shot back. Your eyes widened, and all of a sudden things felt really heavy. 

“No, I didn’t! Are you ok?!” you yelled hoping to get a good answer back. 

“Fuck that was loud.” you heard him say. “Red if you’re down here, please leave me alone.” he pleaded. Your heart wrenched at the tone of his voice. 

 You got up from your spot as quickly as you could and grabbed your camera and flashlight. You made your way out of the room and into the bowling alley where your boyfriend sat with his head in his hands. 

“Kota, hey. I’m here are you ok?” you asked softly trying not to startle him. He looked up at you and his eyes flooded with relief. 

“(y/n), crap you should’ve heard it. It was frickin terrifying, and it was so loud,” he said as you sat down next to him letting one hand rest on his back while you set the light on the floor next to you. 

His tense muscles relaxed at your touch and he sighed. 

“I’m so sorry. Is there any way that Chelsea may have made the noise? I know she’s above us but maybe she did it.” you suggested. “I’ll check right now,” he said and picked up his walkie. 

“Hey, Chelsea,” he said into the walkie. 

“What?” she asked sounding exhausted. 

“You’re not moving at all upstairs?” he questioned his big sister. 

“Not moving at all,” she answered. You could tell that she was ready to be done with this place just as much as you were. 

“You have to hear this. What I just heard.” Dakota said to her. 

“Thanks for sharing your fear. Now I’m fricking wide awake,” she responds. 

He sighs heavily. “Fuck.” you said in exhaustion.

“What was that?” he asked. 

“I believe you. We know you’re down here.” he talked. 

“I’ve heard you. You’ve talked to me, she heard you laughing earlier. I get it. We get it. Please leave us alone.” Dakota spoke into the dark. You both knew he was there, and it was even scarier that he didn’t respond, and knowing the things that had happened earlier in the night to you. You decided not to mention it in fear of making his fear worsen and his panic rise even more.

You turned to face him. “Do you need me to stay with you Dakota?” you asked him with sincerity floating around your words, quietly hoping he would ask you to stay, as you didn’t think you could handle that room alone.

He let out a heavy sigh before looking at you with disappointed and fear-filled eyes. 

“Honestly, please. I really don’t want to be, I can’t be here alone anymore,” he responded and you set down your camera to wrap your arm around him and sit close to his side. “Then, I’ll stay. Just like I said. I’ll stay.” you told him and rested your head on his shoulder. Letting out an internal sigh of relief. He placed his head atop yours and let your presence be a grounding force for him. 

“I’m sorry I made us do this.” you heard his voice, it was small and sounded so apologetic. 

“Hey, it’s ok. Look at us, hell yeah we’re scared, and rightfully so but we’re together and we’re close to the finish line and then we can leave and never have to come back.” you tried to relieve his fears. 

“I never should have brought us back here,” he said and put his head in his hands once again. You switched your positions so you were sitting in front of him.  You took his wrists in your smaller hands and pulled his hands away so you could properly look at him. You could see guilt forming in him and you understood why, but you also understood why he had done it. He wanted to conquer this building because they didn’t before. 

“Listen to me, Dakota. You came back here, to conquer the challenge that you quit last time. Now here you are hours and hours in. You’re here, we are all here and we won’t let it win. We can beat this. So let’s do it together huh.” you said and tried to smile though it was barely visible in the darkness. 

“Together,” he said. “Together,” you reaffirmed. 

--

Taglist: @jaziona92​

@beautybyfire​ 

@thefandomthings​

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 265 “Keyhole”

So Golden Kamuy is back with a chapter that really make me...

...okay, I’m curious, very much so, really, I just can’t resist. I feel so called out watching Tsukishima and Koito trying to overhear what Tsurumi is going to say to Sofia and Asirpa...

Anyway, let’s start.

The covers shows us an image framed by a keyhole, a reference to the chapter’s title and to how some characters will spy from a keyhole and learn of Tsurumi’s past, because that’s what the image depicts, Tsurumi holding his baby while his wife hugs him from behind.

Tsurumi is basically wrapped in love, it’s clear is wife loves him and the way the baby rests against him, while perfectly normal for a baby, seems almost to suggest the baby too is hugging him.

It kind of reminds me a painting from Gustav Klimt, of which is often shown only a part of it, a woman hugging a child, as if it was meant to represent motherly love . The full painting is actually called ‘The three ages of a woman’ and features three women in varying stages of age, symbolizing the cycle of life.

This scene seems to leave out the old woman and paint Tsurumi in between the woman in the spring of her life, Fina, and at the beginning of it, Fina... but in a way symbolically Tsurumi can be ‘the old woman, which in the painting is in an aura by herself and with a desperate expression, who now gets finally included between the other two.

Tsurumi is the only one of the three who got to grow old and he’s clearly desperate for his loss. Sure, in the image he looks like his younger self, but the image is basically symbolizing how, through a keyhole, we’re looking at him talking about his past. The real Tsurumi that we would see if we were to look through the keyhole is older, alone and desperate... and in a way the younger Tsurumi shows a bit of this.

We can see the left corner of his mouth is up, but the same can’t be said for the right one. Even his eyebrows are slightly raised, in a bittersweet expression. This is not Hasegawa, this is Tsurumi remembering his beloved ones, this is Tsurumi remembering what being Hasegawa felt like, the joy of being with his family and the pain of having lost it.

But okay, enough with my speculations on the cover, let’s start with the story.

Kikuta, Tsukishima and Koito, who were sent out by Tsurumi with the excuse to check for the others discover that the soldiers who were on foot had reached the planned meeting spot but the same can’t be said for the three men on horseback (who were tailed by Hijikata).

Kikuta suggests to split and look for them, and Tsukishima tells Koito to stay there just in case the three of them will show up... which they won’t do as, below Tsukishima’s balloon we can see on image of the three of them lying on the ground, efficiently disposed off by Hijikata...

...who, however, is starting to show signs of his age as he’s panting and has some blood on his face, a sign it wasn’t an easy battle. Hijikata, joined by Ariko and Kantarou, plans to search for the 7th in order to get Asirpa back.

Meanwhile Sofia’s men plan to search for her.

Now... let’s go back a moment.

Remember how Kikuta told Koito and Tsukishima they should split and search for the men and Tsukishima told Koito to remain behind?

Well, this caused the three of them to go for separate ways, unsupervised by each other.

Koito, who has noticed how Tsurumi has reacted seeing the photo Sofia had, feels curiosity bubbling inside him and decides to go back into the church from a side entrance so as to spy on Tsurumi’s conversation only to discover Tsukishima had anticipated him and is now trying to peep from the keyhole.

Basically that was why Tsukishima told Koito he should stay back, so that Koito wouldn’t go with him and Tsukishima could freely spy Tsurumi.

Honestly I wonder if Kikuta too is taking care of a personal business, maybe not spying Tsurumi as he might already know of Tsurumi’s family, but it would explain why he told the others to split and wanted to go search for the riders when it was safer to assume they were killed and just give up on them. Or maybe Kikuta is the only one who’s doing actual work.

We’ll see.

Anyway Koito and Tsukishima show their maturity by arguing, each saying the other is there to spy Tsurumi because they don’t believe in him.

Koito though, tries to deny it, but Tsukishima, with a vein bulging as if he were quite angry, points out how Koito was now able to talk to Tsurumi normally...

and how this might be a sign that a distance grew between them in his heart. So okay, pot, I present you a kettle in denial. You do your best trying not to be a pot in denial as well.

Anyway Koito has no words to counter but, in that moment, they hear Tsurumi telling Nikaidou to go stand outside and keep everyone else away from the church then, as soon as Koito is out, Tsurumi checks the church AGAIN for intruders, forcing Tsukishima and Koito to comically hide under the desk, making really clear he doesn’t want anyone to hear the discussion he’ll have with Sofia.

I should probably mention Tsurumi’s face is always kept heavily shadowed... but if this is to keep his expression in the dark or Noda actually plans to redraw it for the volume version... well, this is up to speculation.

We’ve a flashback then, showing how Sofia, before exiting from Hasegawa’s house, spotted the photo of herself, Kiro and Wilk about to be burned and retrieved it. That’s why she still had it.

As the flashback ends Sofia wakes up to see Tsurumi seated on what seems to look like a clergy throne. She realizes her hands are tied (and she seems to hold something in her hand but maybe it’s just me)...

...and then notices Asirpa gagged next to her.

Tsurumi stands and removes Asirpa’s gag, warning her though to keep silent as he would prefer not to treat her roughly if he can help it.

We can see the gag, which was nothing else but her matanpushi, had left marks on Asirpa’s face as Tsurumi, who had placed it back around Asirpa’s forehead says it suits the brave and beloved child of the Ainu.

Overall Tsurumi seems gentle with Asirpa... if this is because she’s a child and it reminds him of his daughter (it’s an effect she had on Nihei as well) or he’s just pretending to win her favour... well, this is something we’ll discover in the future.

Tsurumi then comments he’s glad they could meet it again and the visual in this is very interesting as we basically see only his eyes since the lower part of his face is completely blackened and what little we can see of the upper part is covered in swirling lines that seems to hint to an emotional storm.

Giving his back to Sofia he also says he’s glad he could met her again which causes Sofia to ask him who’s him.

Tsurumi comments it’s no surprise she couldn’t recognize him as they had both changed and their previous meeting took place 18 years ago.

I’m a bit confused by this.

The official timeline says they met in 1891. 1891+18=1909

However the story started, always according to the official timeline, in 1907 and, supposedly, only one year went by, placing us in 1908. Have we... lost a year somehow?

Whatever, Tsurumi calls Sofia ‘Zoya’, showing her the photo but it still doesn’t ring any bell in Sofia. However, when he asks her if she has forgotten about his family too, commenting all their photo were burned that day and all that remains to prove they were alive are their finger bones. As he says so he shows two bones, one clearly belonging to Fina and the other so small it should have belonged to Olga.

As he mentions their names the visual shows how Tsukishima, who’s eavesdropping outside, connects them with the finger bones he saw in Tsurumi’s possession.

Those names ring a strong bell in Sofia as, with a shocked expression and panting (we can see the small clouds her breathing made around her, signifying she’s panting) she recognized him for Hasegawa-san.

It’s worth to remember Sofia always felt an intense guilt for Fina and Olga’s death, so her reaction is completely understandable. Those deaths in a way changed her life.

Tsurumi’s brain leaks as he thanks her for remembering them.

‘Oboete ite kurete arigatō’

憶えていてくれてありがとう

“Thank you for remembering”

Asirpa knows Hasegawa’s story as she was told about it by Kiro. Her interest though is for the people in the story as she asks Sofia if that picture portrays her father and Kiroranke and if it was taken in Russia.

Sofia seems still shocked and doesn’t reply.

Koito, hearing this, is surprised Tsurumi had a wife and a daughter. Tsukishima’s veins are popping out as if angry as he makes a sound of disbelief (はあ ‘haa?’) in a strained font.

He doesn’t seem positively impressed Tsurumi too had a past life and people he cared who might have influenced his choices. He possibly might have wanted Tsurumi to be solely attached and devoted to his men.

Tsurumi goes on, claiming after Kiro died they found some letters in his belonging, letters that he received from Sofia when they were writing each other while Sofia was in Akou prison.

Tsurumi suggests he and Sofia should join their knowledge together and tell Asirpa everything about who killed the Ainu and why Wilk had to die so as to taka away Asirpa’s ‘itami’ [傷み “Pain, grief, distress, damage”]. ‘Itami’ is actually in between brackets.

As he says so we see an image of Asirpa with a serious expression and an adult look.

It’s not the first time that, when the situation is serious, Noda depicts Asirpa as if she were older, her eyes slightly squeezed so as to take away the roundness that makes them look like the eyes of a child and her lips shadowed as if she were to wear lipstick.

And it’s such a sharp contrast with his words because the child he’s talking about doesn’t look like a child anymore because she’s forced in a situation that’s not fitting of a child and she will likely required to show a maturity a child normally doesn’t possess.

On a sidenote, as said before, Tsurumi has acted polite and ‘kind’ with Asirpa so far, but there’s to keep in mind in the volume version of chap 211 there was the implication Tsurumi came to believe it was Wilk who shot his wife and daughter.

Does he wants revenge on Wilk through Asirpa?

It doesn’t mean he necessarily have to want to kill Asirpa, he might want to ‘destroy’ Wilk as a father figure in her eyes and then take her as a replacement daughter. Wilk took his own child away so Tsurumi might take Asirpa in exchange.

And this might gain him Asirpa’s cooperation. Though, considering he planned to jail her in such a terrible place always in the volume version of chap 211, I really fear he doesn’t have nice intentions toward her.

I really, really hope things will go well for Asirpa, I don’t want her to be hurt... but I’ve to admit I’m also really, really, REALLY curious to hear what happened... hoping it’ll be the truth and not the result of Tsurumi manipulating information.

We’ll see.

It’s interesting Tsurumi said he and Sofia has to piece together what they know... as if he doesn’t have all the answers... which might mean he’s either lying or he wasn’t there when the Ainu were murdered.

I’ve always wondered, honestly. Murdering everyone wouldn’t get him any close to the gold, so it seemed weird he could have ordered to kill those Ainu. At the same time, unless Wilk chopped everyone down to disguise himself among the corpses, the damage done to them seemed the one that would be caused by an explosion.

We know Wilk didn’t do it and I honestly can’t think of Kiro doing it considering how reluctant he is at killing Ainu.

Did Tsurumi men attempted on doing something without him being present and things went wrong and everyone died but this caused Tsurumi not to know what happened?

I’ve always wondered if Ogata knew more than he let out... but he could have discovered things from either Kiro or Tsurumi so this isn’t telling us much.

Can it be that something happened that wasn’t caused by either Tsurumi or Wilk or Kiro, like other Ainu getting involved, fearing Wilk and the others would cause a war?

I’ve always liked to suspect Asirpa’s uncle but, of course, who knows?

Really, I can’t wait to know the truth!

...on a sidenote I wouldn't be surprised if Noda were to decide to keep us on hold a little longer and show us, in the next chapter, what's doing Sugimoto, or Ogata, or Hijikata. We'll see.

On another sidenote... even though I fear Tsurumi might hurt Asirpa... I feel really bad for him in this chapter. The pain for losing Fina and Olga should have been terrible, him being the only one to remember about their existence. In a way it should feel like a relief to get to meet Sofia, someone else who knew them and cared enough to keep on remembering them. ;_;

[until-theend-oftheline]

Scary World

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader 

Warnings: Pregnant!Reader, Covid-19 quarantine, adult conversations, pregnancy worries 

Squares Filled: Intimacy for @marvelfluffbingo​ 

Word Count: 1400ish

A/N: This is part of my LLL universe - it takes place March 2020 and Y/N is pregnant with their third child. 

It can also be read as a one shot just as always.  

Betaed by: none - all mistakes are mine

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Being cooped inside the apartment most of the time was hard. Sebastian had never been happier that you had insisted on getting a place with an outside space. The four balconies on each corner of the apartment had never been put to use as much as they were these days. 

Still, the kids were claiming on the walls after being on lock down for almost two weeks now. At first it had been nice. Everyone was home and together. The kids loved having both their parents around with absolutely nothing to do other than playing with them, cooking together and cuddling on the couch at night. After two weeks the novelty wore off and boredom set in. Isabella and Alexander had never really been whiny kids but they seemed easier to tears these days. Sebastian felt an unease in his entire body from the lack of physical regime he was usually keeping. He still worked out as well as he could, but he was itching for a run. 

You had seemed fine at first but these past few days you had started to draw into yourself in a way Sebastian hadn’t seen you do since Isabella had just been born. You were still very much pregnant, so Sebastian knew it was another postpartum depression, but he worried. Finding time to talk to you was difficult too with the little ones being around all the time, especially since you had been starting to redraw to the bedroom claiming you were tired and needed to sleep as soon as they were in bed. The past two mornings you had also been up and out of bed when Sebastian woke up. 

Sebastian hoped he would get to talk to you tonight even if he had to play a little dirty to get time with you. 

“I’m tired. I’m heading in,” you stated as soon as the two of you exited the kids’ room and Sebastian instantly stretched his arms over his head yawning, sending you a small smile. 

“That sounds like a great idea. I’m beat,” Sebastian answered, making your eyes widen a little. 

“Really? I thought you…” You started, but Sebastian just shook his head. 

“Narh. I’m tired. Let’s go to bed,” Sebastian smiled, trying his best to calm your mind. He wasn’t sure what was going on in there but he would be damned if he wasn’t going to find out. 

Getting ready for bed was done in quite, even if Sebastian could practically see the wheels turning inside your head. You were carrying something, and whatever it was he didn’t want you to do it alone. The only trouble was his own anxiety. It had gotten better over the years. He suspected it had everything to do with you and the kids, but when things were off between the two of you he still struggled. He did at times anyway, but you always saw. Talking things out with you somehow always made everything better. Now when the thought he could be losing you entered his head his mind was reeling and he was fighting to keep himself under control. 

You crawled into bed keeping on your own side as you laid down, trying to get comfortable. Sebastian sat against the headboard watching you, trying to stop the movie playing inside his head where you told him that this time had made you realise you no longer loved him and it was time to go your separate ways. He tried so hard to control it but he couldn’t. The rational conversation he had wanted to have with you, asking you about your mental health and what he could do to help you went out the window the moment the words fell from his mouth. 

“Are you thinking about leaving me?” Sebastian asked and he wanted to kick himself when your head whipped around and your eyes met his. You struggled due to your 7 month huge pregnant belly but managed to push yourself back into a seating position. Shook and concern were written all over your face as you looked at him. 

“What? No,” you insisted and Sebastian drew a sigh of relief. Relief was quickly replaced by shame though as he saw your face softed. 

“Why would you think that?” you reached out taking his hand and Sebastian instantly gave it a small squeeze. 

“I… I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you tonight and suddenly I started thinking that maybe all this time being stuck inside the apartment with me had made you realise…” Sebastian started, but you stopped him placing your free hand against his cheek before he could finish. 

“I love you Sebastian Stan. So much more than you know. Yeah I’m going stir crazy and I’m scared half the time but it has nothing to do with you or how I feel about you,” you insisted. 

Sebastian frowned, “you’re scared?” 

You looked down, nodding and Sebastian could tell you were struggling holding back the tears. 

“Come here.”

Sebastian quickly shifted, pulling you to sit between his legs resting your back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and neck. 

“Don’t shut me out, honey. If you’re scared of something you have to talk to me about it. Please?” Sebastian gently pushed, as the tears started to silently fall down your cheeks. You turned a little burying your face against his arm, allowing him to just hold you and calm you for a while. Sebastian kept pressing small kisses to your skin wherever he could reach and running his hand up and down your arm, gently rocking you. 

“What if all of this isn’t over in a few weeks?” You muttered. “I’m fine staying in here with you and the kids. What about when I have to go for my check up in a few days? What if the world is still like this when she is born? What if I get sick when I’m still pregnant or she gets sick at the hospital? What will happen to her?”

Sebastian tightened his hold around you as you talked. It wasn’t like any of those thoughts hadn’t crossed his mind but he also knew the chances were slim. He could reason with himself and keep his own mind in check using facts and statistics, but he also knew from experience those wouldn’t work on you right now. Everything was emotions when you were pregnant and he should have foreseen this. He was pissed at himself that he hadn’t but none of that mattered right now, all that mattered was you. 

“We’ll go by car to the check up. We won’t go until last minute so we won’t have to spend too long in the waiting room,” Sebastian suggested and he started to feel you relax. All you needed was to talk this out and be taken seriously. Sebastian knew you better than he knew himself. “As for the birth. Honey, we still have time. We’ll figure it out. If you feel safer doing it at home and away from the hospital we’ll do that. We’ll talk to Dr. Mcknight about it. You’ll be fine and our daughter will be perfect and healthy just like the other two monkeys next door,” Sebastian smiled, when you giggled against his arm. You are relaxing more now. 

“We’ll figure it out. I promise. Even if we have to stay inside the apartment for a year or two,” Sebastian teased, causing you to groan. 

“Don’t say that,” you complained, looking up at him with a pout Sebastian could help but lean in and kiss away. 

“I could do that though. It wouldn’t be easy, but as long as I have you with me there’s nothing I couldn’t get through,” Sebastian smiled, when you lovingly rolled your eyes at him. 

“Okay that was sappy even for you, Seba” you laughed, squealing when Sebastian started tickling you.

You struggled to get away but all you achieved was somehow getting stuck with Sebastian hovering above you, with a cheeky smile on his face. 

“If you don’t like sappy, I could just make you forget for a while instead,” Sebastian teased wiggling his eyebrows at you, causing you to laugh. 

You reached up, running your fingers through his hair with a small smile on your lips as you pulled him down towards you. 

“Yes please.”

Reblogs spread my work and make me happy. Got a favorite part/line? Did something touch you? Do you relate in some way? Please tell me and make my day. 

Sebastian Stan Tag Team

@feelmyroarrrr @sleepretreat @roxyspearing @jewels2876  @hellaqueerangelofthelord @danijimenezv @rumoured-whispers @becs-bunker @smoothdogsgirl @blacktithe7 @grace-for-sale @averyrogers83 @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @sorenmarie87 @docharleythegeekqueen @erosbellarke @the-wayward-robot @super100012 @myfanficlibrarium @winchesters-favorite-girl @awkwardfangirl2014 @igotkatiepowers @dottirose @deathofmissjackson @miraclesoflove @badassbaker 

[bittybattybunny]

Me writing an Au of my original character’s story cuz I had a “what if” moment

This drawing is also a partial ‘redraw’ of an old Kaya picture

I used one of her older outfit designs for this cuz I wanted to. it’s simple but yeah I hope ya like.

Um but here’s the ficlet (this is a short oneshot AU based on my original story “Nightmare’s Dream” this is an Alternate Universe where her human dad isn’t dead and it’s modern age not ancient like her actual storyline):

“Sir, Miss, this way.”

She turned confused as she heard her father being called. She trailed after, doing her best to keep hunched over as they stepped over the barricade into the crime scene. Her nose burned and she reached to cover it disgusted. 

The area was a disaster. Rust colored splothces covered the concrete and pavement. She frowned as she narrowed her eyes as she looked around. Something was bothering her but her dad kept chatting with the police officer. 

Gabriel laughed as he tapped his cigarette package and put one in his mouth, lighting the end with magic. His silver hair was slicked back in a thick braid with many smaller braids interwoven. His brown eyes moved to look at the young woman as she was busy looking around. He chuckled.

She kept her hand over her nose as she wrinkled her nose. It was astringent smelling. She could smell blood, urine, feces, metal, rust. It was giving her a headache. There was also now her father’s smoke. She hated the cigarettes he smoked. It made her head fuzzy. She knew he did ti for his safety but it made her eyes spin. She grabbed the man’s sleeve as she frowned.

“Dad… it smells bad… really bad… it’s sharp and stingy,” she stated quietly as she tugged on his sleeve. She chewed her lip with pointed fangs as her gold eyes darted about the rubble. She gripped his sleeve tighter, “There’s a lot of iron and… dad it smells---” she whined as he didn’t respond. He was busy taking notes down. She made a whine in her throat as she put her chin on his shoulder, “Dad--”

“Kaya dear, just put your mask on if it bothers you that much,” Gabriel stated finally. Reaching into the pocket on his long grey coat, he pulled out a black fabric mask. He held the black fabric up to her and she sighed as she hooked it behind her ears, the smell of lavender overpowering her nose. It made her head dizzy but it was better than the bodily fluids and sharp smoke she was smelling. She looked around, her golden eyes wide open as she surveyed the scene. Her eyes flickered to slits momentarily.

The building had exploded from the left side. The sidewalk was littered in broken bodies broken stonework. Even though it was nighttime there weren’t even gawkers or passerbys. She listened and heard no cars and she frowned as she looked at the sky and narrowed her eyes. As she continued to look around something was annoying her and she couldn’t figure it out at first. Something wasn’t sitting right. This whole scene seemed off to her and she was having issues figuring exactly what it was. Was it the smells, was it the lack of noise, was it her father trying to make small talk with the officer? No. Something felt like eyes. Watching. She knew it wasn’t the normal paranoia she dealt with. This was something else. But where? Where was it coming from? She chewed her lip beneath the mask.

Her eyes paused near one piece of carnage. A large block that’d fallen when the building erupted. That was it! She felt a smile on her lips as she jumped past her father to the shock of the police officer who’d been leading them and made use of her large stature to get over the rocks and cement. The belts and buckles on her outfit created a clink and a clank as she moved. Slowling to a stop before the stone she shook her head to center herself. She put her hand to the stone and scowled, furrowing her brow as she growled. This was what was making her annoyed. She knew it. She looked around at the rubble trying to figure what was different. She pulled her mask down and sniffed at it. She retched slightly.

“Dad.” she stood back up looking over at the older gentleman and pointed. She looked back at the stone as her eyes glinted.

“What did you find? Is it something nice?” Gabriel asked as he took the cigarette from his mouth. He tapped the ash from the end with a small smirk on his face. He watched as she raised a gloved hand and large circles lit up, creating a gust of wind, sending her black hair fluttering. The officer gasped at the sight of the young woman using magic.

“I open at the close, the one who seeks my name shall perish in the blinding lights of my unjust rage. That which began will cease and begin once the time clicks forward.” she recited as the wind and circles faded. She frowned under her mask and pulled it down under her chin. She stuck her tongue out while she started to cough. She turned back towards her father and the shocked officer. Bright red markings dripped on her cheeks like jagged slices. The whites of her eyes appeared a greyer color, darkening as she stood there.

“Was it creature, beast, caster, or spoiled?” her father asked as she frowned. He looked at his notes as she stared at him. The officer looked confused as the others surveying the scene turned towards the commotion she was causing.

“Yes.” was her only response before she looked back at it confused. She raised her hand once more and pulled the glove off. Dark claws and darkened skin blurred together as she placed it on the large block. She began to scrawl on it. Symbols. She worked quickly as she carved line after line into the stone. It started to erode. She sided stepped as a skeleton fell out onto the street. When it clattered to the ground, coins fell out with it as well as a book and some pages. She picked the book up and tucked the loose pages inside. She flipped through it before she tucked it away into her coat with a huff. She would deal with THAT back at the office.

“Oh. a vessel.” Gabriel watched the officer vomit and sighed before laughing at the other man, “Good work sweetie. Is that why it smelt stingy?” he asked as he scribbled in his book.

“Mmhm. Kinda. Partially. Not really. This is more…. It was making me really uneasy? Like how people describe being around me. How I always feel the eyes of the moon staring.” she pulled her mask back up over her nose and knelt down poking the skull with her claws. She sighed heavily before she stood up, the various chains on her outfit ringing. She stretched as the slits in the back of her shirt showed her pale flesh and the dark markings on it and she took a deep breath.

“R I S E.”

Her voice was strong and had an echo that caused a shudder to run through the air as the bones began to shift. Shimmering black threads wrapped the brittle yellowed remains together as it slowly stood up. Its skull clacked and teeth dropped. It clicked and chittered as it shifted with the threads holding it together. A light behind the eye sockets glimmering.

“That’s new.” Gabriel whistled, “who taught you that?” he raised a brow as he watched, “that wasn’t your normal work.”

“Miss Holmes in the necromancy department.” she stated as her father walked over, “she said voice of authority should work for a limited time if the corpse was magic respondent.” she explained as she looked at him. Turning back towards the skeleton, she narrowed her eyes, “Who buried you in the block?” she asked it with a stern tone. It had a similar echo to when she rose it from the ground.

It stared at her. It clattered. It tried to point but it’s arm was limp and it couldn’t fully raise it.

“Hrm. I don’t think this will work sweetheart.” her father patted her back but her eyes were staring firmly at the skeleton. “Sweetheart?” he chewed his cigarette.

“The one who buried me sleeps in the earth but the descendants crave destruction of the barriers,” she stated in a hollow tone. “They knew not that I would rise and that I rested here. The child brings sanctuary.” Her gold eyes were blank as she spoke. Her pupils returned as cat like slits as she snarled some.

“That’s no good.” Gabriel sighed, rubbing his neck tiredly. “I’ve worked hard on barriers after all.” he chuckled lowly, “I would prefer them to not be destoryed.” 

The man turned to the officers, “it seems this is very much a case for our office. I’m going to let my daughter loose to have a little look. It’ll cut on cleanup and casualties.” he laughed as he stomped on his cigarette and looked at Kaya once more, “Ready, sweetheart?”

She whined some as she bent down. He reached to undo the leather choker she wore. He gently unclipped the belts from her arms and legs. There was a sickening feeling in the air. It became heavy. The sensation of being watched. The air was thick and oppressive as he continued to remove the belts.

 She stood up straight for the first time that night. Her stature towering over those deployed. Despite her height she was thin and wispy. Her face was hardened into a steely glare as the man held a black mask up. It had two small horns. 4 white slits decorated the dark surface.

“Here you are.” Gabriel chuckled as he handed it to her.

“Thanks…” she lifted it to her face and set it on. At once four eyes opened on the inky surface before a jagged grin spread. She yawned and the mask moved with her motions.

“Find the one causing this mess and bring them back. If they prove difficult. Eat them.” he ordered her. She gave a nod and in a flash was gone leaving a crater in the pavement. The skeleton wobbled and collapsed into dust on the ground. Gabriel sighed.

“Well that’s not helpful.” he scribbled a note as he looked at the remains. He took his cigarette packet out.

“S-sir… what exactly….” the officer whipped his mouth in shock.

Gabriel smirked as he lit another cigarette, “that’s my wonderful baby girl! She’s a special one for sure!” he chuckled as he blew the smoke through his teeth, “a wonderful girl ever since I found her asleep in the lost woods. My sweet little Kaya.” he chuckled, “she’s our best agent you know.”

She jumped from building to building. Her head was throbbing from the release of her seals. She stood on the church steeple and looked around. She raised an arm as the shadows squirmed and formed crows and bats and tore off into the sky. The moon shifted as eyes opened and the night seemed darker. She looked around as she closed her eyes and focused on the shadows that flew around searching for magic traces. For the one who exploded the grim’s holding.

They ran through alleys. They spied in windows. They flew through buildings that whistled with openings. Her eyes snapped open.

“Found you.” she jumped from the building and vanished into the shadows.

“Should we help her?” the officer asked as Gabriel sat down to pull a not book out. He rolled the belts up as he looked up.

“No, we’ll only get in her way. This is training for her you see.” he chuckled, “do you know who we are?”

“I know you work for Prometheus…” he frowned.

“Correction, I own Prometheus.” Gabriel chuckled as he took a pen to write. He scrawled the message his daughter had recited and frowned, “Someone is messing with the barriers my ancestors laid down to keep the other side from interacting with humans. Kaya is a key to maintaining those barriers.”

She jumped from shadow to shadow, the tendrils clinging as she ran through the city. She stopped as she arrived back on the scene and the officer jumped.

“Welcome back sweetheart.” he hummed, “did you find it?”

“Mmhm.” she pulled her mask off revealing she had four eyes below it. All four trained on the officer. The whites of her eyes were the same inky tone of her hair and claws. Her gold eyes glowed in the night air. The officer backed up. He shook as she kept her stare on him. Like a mouse cornered by a cat he was starting to have issues with his heart. Something wasn’t right.

“Isn’t it fascinating?” Gabriel continued, “how the very people who protect the common folk happen to keep others on their side?” he kept scrawling without looking up. The officer swallowed their spit as the young woman kept her multi-eyed gaze on him. Gabriel chuckled some. “The real way to keep the peace is to play togehter sometimes.”

She moved to open her mouth revealing larger fangs. A dark mist left mouth as she gave a low growl deep in her throat. A second mouth opened along her jawline creating the illusion of her face being a mask. It clicked aggressively as she open and closed it.

“I said it smelt bad,” she spoke in a grumbly tone from both mouths. An echo of her own words. “So bad. The moment I got here. Bad magic. ROTTEN magic. Festered, old, wrong.” she hissed word by word.

“I open at the close.” Gabriel recited from his notes. He snapped his book shut and tucked it away into the inner pocket of his coat, “Sweetheart what does that mean typically?”

“It’s where it started,” Kaya answered him as she dropped her shoulders, her claws seemed larger and her limbs longer. She moved closer to the trembling officer. Four large black wings spread from her back as an unease filled the air. She stepped closer as Horns lifted her hair like inky tendrils and she hissed another cloud of smoke. The air grew heavier.

“Do you know what it means to make thine enemy your friend?” Gabriel asked as he stood up. He dusted his coat off with a chuckle as he looked at his daughter. “It helps you immensely in the long run to not make enemies of those who dwell in magic. Officer.”

Kaya cackled as eyes opened on the wings and the officer fell over foaming at the mouth. She straightened up and sighed as she relaxed now. Her horns vanished like mist as she seemed to return to how she had appeared earlier in the evening.

Gabriel clicked her belts back on and the air returned to the normal calm evening chill. She stood up and shook her head as she shut her lower eyes and mouth. She let her father put the belts back on as the wings faded back to the shadows and she grimaced. She took her choker and strapped it on, the silver cross on it jingling as she did.

He pulled a bottle of cola from his jacket and gave it to her which she eagerly sipped on. She took a large gulp before she groaned and stuck her tongue out.

“What’s the point of making me run around if he was the one?” she frowned, “My mouth tastes so gross now.” she shuddered, “Dad. you said this was a simple thing. I ran all around the city.” she whined as she sipped the soda, “In the end it’s just bad smelling and now my head hurts because you removed so many seals at once!” she leaned on him tiredly as she complained about the evening. She gave a large yawn. Her forked tongue flicked as she shut her eyes tiredly. “It’s rotten and icky and bluh.”

“I had a suspicion. I mean this is nothing but a dummy scene.” Gabriel chuckled as he lifted the round stone from around his neck and peeked through the hole. “You noticed I’m sure. It’s far too quite for a thursday even if it is midnight. He would have done better to stage this during the day, but I feel he wanted to wait for less real victims.”

“Of course I did.” she pouted as she moved to grab the officer’s shirt. The shadows swirled and she threw him through it with a shudder. “I see everything.” she opened her lower eyes as the fog began to lift, “That’s why you bring me, isn’t it?”

“No, I bring you because you’re my daughter and you need to learn to manage this.” He looked at her with a small glare on his wrinkled face. “What will you do when I can’t be your handler?” he asked seriously, “I’m not going to be around forever young lady. You’re already 37. I’m hitting 80 next month. You may look like a teenager but you need to learn this faster.” he chided her.

She sighed and looked away from her father ashamed. She continued to grumble, “you don’t even know that. You found me as a toddler...ish.” she sipped her drink as she pulled her fabric mask back out to cover her face.

“Yes, but you’ve been in my care at least 36 years, and you’re still my baby girl. Now. clean the area up, eat the remains.” he instructed as he checked his notes, “that vessel is the only concerning thing.” he scowled as he looked at what he’d written, “the idiot mage I expected but not an actual vessel to be here.”

“It’s a grim. Not a vessel.” she corrected him as bright circles and symbols lit up. The rubble began to rise into the air. She waved her arms as black threads danced and tied the building back together and stitched them whole once more. She looked at the bodies and whined, “can we please call a clean up instead?”

“Kaya.” her father sighed with a firm tone. He stared at her with faded brown eyes.

“Ugh.” she frowned as shadows shifted and covered the bodies. She shuddered violently and started to retch and cough. She held back the urge to vomit as she continued to remove them and crumpled to her knees gripping her stomach. She wiped the black sludge tears from her eyes.

“The magic tastes so BAD it’s so out of order! Messy! Old! Miscasted! Yuck!” she whined as she bit back tears, “I hate it! Hate it!”

“I know sweetheart but you need to consume the fear they produce.” he rubbed her back as she hiccuped and groaned. “I’ll get you burgers on the way home okay? We can even get some sunflower seeds for your bird.”

“I just hate it!” she stood up and wiped her eyes, “this is the worst.” she looked at him as she sniffled.

“I know sweetheart.” he sighed as he looked at the street. He frowned as he raised a hand, “Oh powers which guide the night into the light I call upon your strength of fate. Return that which has wronged and repel that which is sight.”

There was a haze that quickly faded and the sound of cars was heard as people chattered.

Kaya looked at the city and leaned on her dad with a sigh.

“Let’s go home,” she stated as she stood back up and started to walk.

“We should get your mother a cake.” he laughed as they headed down the street into the crowd. A three-eyed crow taking flight.

[milstrim]

Strong Words of Encourage-Mint!

"Okay, you win," Tony conceded, pointing an accusing finger at the kid walking next to him, "This is the best sandwich I've ever had. But don't let it go to your head."

Penny took a bite of her own sandwich, polishing it off and throwing the wrapper at the nearest trash can where it landed perfectly in the hole. She flashed him a cheeky grin, "Never. Nothing goes to my head. Ever."

"Uhuh."

Tony took another bite, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. Today, they served more than the purpose of carrying around his own personal badass AI, but actually blocked the bright New York summer sun that bounced and glared off the windows of buildings and nearby cars. Heat passed through the crowd like a dusty wind, hanging onto him and letting go just as quickly as a new wave took its place. He licked his lips at the heat, hoping that whatever Penny's trip through the city had planned was prepared for a water break.

"So, where to, kid?" he asked, throwing his own wrapper in a trashcan, though he begrudgingly admitted that it was much less cool than the kid's shot, "'Cause I don't know if it can surpass the best sandwich in Queens."

"It's gonna be great, Mr. Stark!" Penny chirped, ignoring his comment and bouncing forward a little. He smiled. "There's this really cool tunnel thing that turns into an arcade. It just opened last week and the graphics are so good, it's like it's actually real! They also have an escape room if we wanted to do that too. It's supposed to be the hardest one ever, no one's cracked it yet!" Tony smirked. Between the two of them, it'd be done in ten minutes tops, "Oh! And there's this cool, like--it's like a superhero store? They have a bunch of really cool Avengers merch and there's this life size Captain America plushie that's like three hundred dollars and it has the funniest sayings ever. You've got to see it!!!"

"Sounds like a full day," Tony commented, wondering when life had ever become this carefree. He was spending the day discussing afternoon plans with his intern, just for fun... No, not his intern. More like his kid. He couldn't help himself as he gave the girl a fond look. It'd been two years since they'd met, she was almost eighteen, and she changed so much, yet her bouncy childish joy still hung in a bubble beside her. Tony took a breath, surprised to find his breath taken away with the thought of how much she'd grown, "So, where to first?"

"Where do you wanna go first?"

"Nope. Your day."

She bumped into him playfully, sticking her tongue out at him. He blew a raspberry in her direction, dragging a delighted, crinkling giggle out of her.

"The arcade is closest," she said.

"Cool, let's go do that first. Which way?"

"Um, it's a couple blocks over," she started, stopping, much to the chagrin of the bustling crowd. She stepped away from the stream of traffic. Tony followed, "We can take some shortcuts, though."

"Y'know, you're pretty impatient," he teased.

"No! I'm just showing you my amazing street cred of knowing the streets."

"Okay, Underoos. Lead the way."

She shot him a look, but still led him through the alley. And then another, and then another. The first two were completely fine. No surprises, no boogy man jumping out of them. Nothing other than the toxic smell of a dumpster. By the third one, everything went downhill.

Now, Tony didn't have a 'spidey sense' or whatever she and her friend called it, but the moment he stepped on the street, the feeling of wrong overtook him. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was the way Penny had slowed down, her body language reeking of fear. Almost against his will, he took a step further, reaching out for Penny in an attempt to pull her back.

He'd barely reached her by the time something clattered at their feet. It was small and round, barely bigger than a bouncy ball, a sickly gray color shining dully in the darkened alleyway. Before any movements could be made, it stretched, revealing a clear vial.

Smoke began dispensing from the ball, billowing in thick clouds. Extremely thick for how small the thing was. Tony's breath shortened immediately, and before he clamped his mouth shut, stuffing it into the crook of his arm, he shouted to Penny, "Don't breathe, kid, just run!!"

Surprisingly unaffected, he moved forward, gripping Penny's hand as he did, but he was stopped short, almost falling with his cut short momentum. He whipped around to stare at Penny, his eyes widening with horror.

She was rooted in place, her eyes dreamy and droopy, as if she was nothing more than a vacant shell. She swayed. Her legs shook. She fell.

The man rushed forward, barely managing to catch her, and feeling like someone would have to catch him soon as well. His vision swayed dizzily from the lack of air, and Tony couldn't stop himself from taking a breath in at the sudden movement. He expected something bitter or tasteless, and for him to faint immediately if it had already taken Penny out so quickly, but instead, he was fine. Nothing happened save for the burning of peppermint on his throat and burning his nose.

Peppermint.

He cursed. Penny was dangerously allergic to peppermint, a fun little gift from her spider powers. Whoever had done this hadn't come for him. They wanted Penny, and they knew just how to do it.

With that horrifying thought, Tony ran. Or, well, he tried to run.

Scooping up Penny, he began to stumble out of the alleyway, only to be met with a wall of people. There were three of them, all with guns in hand. Waiting. He turned on his heel, only to discover the other end was surrounded with three men as well, as dangerous and formidable looking as before. He spotted a red octopus on their jackets.

He hugged Penny tighter, and held out a gauntlet covered hand. His glasses lit up, Friday already calling a suit.

A man took a step closer, his gun held aloft. Tony took a step backward, his eyes dancing around and looking for an escape. Penny couldn't stay in this cloud of peppermint for long. As if hearing his thoughts, a rack of coughs shot through Penny, who buried her shaking form into his shoulder. He had to get her out.

"Hand over the girl," demanded the closest man. The group closed in, but remained wary of the weapon gripped onto his palm.

"Not happening," he snapped, "I think you know what happens to people that mess with me. So why don't you just go ahead and keep moving?"

"You know it's already too late for that."

"I don't think it's ever too late for anything."

"I do," the man responded, and that was all he had to say.

The men rushed forward all at once, a tidal wave. Tony fired immediately, but was only able to fire out one shot before they were on top of him. He kicked out violently, but was horribly unbalanced by the girl he held in his arms, limp and unaware of the world.

A punch landed to his face, knocking him backwards and the glasses off of his face. Assumingly distracted, he felt arms grip around his kid, tugging painfully at her, but he managed to cling on. In his desperate attempt to keep the kid with him, however, he found himself defenseless.

Another fist. Another kick. Tony felt his nose snap and his arms bruise beyond belief as he was rammed against the dumpster, arms worming between his, digging and tugging and tearing. But Tony refused to let go, unable to do anything else. All he could do was shield Penny from being hurt and taken.

But all he could do wasn't enough. Tony's legs wobbled, his body shook, and Penny was torn away. He reached out immediately, struggling to force himself up only to be met with the butt of the gun against his face. He went down like a rock, his head tearing against the concrete painfully.

Tony Stark had never been one to give up though, and this was a moment he was determined to not let pass by. Even if it killed him.

The sound of a car screeching to a halt is what managed to stir him to his feet, throwing away the dizziness that faced him and instead running towards the group of kidnappers. No longer encumbered with a child in his hands, he held out his wrist gauntlet. The first two missed, but the last hit the man holding Penny. He dropped to the ground just outside a gray van, Penny tumbling with him.

Another took his place, hooking arms underneath the limp girl and attempting to herd her back into the van, but he rushed forward. Anger burned in his eyes and leapt from his palm. Now close enough, he hit the man picking up Penny, forcing him to stumble back, and knocking him down with a swift shot.

Tony couldn't stop to make sure Penny was okay, instead swerving back to face the rest of the group, who were sprinting forward and redrawing their guns. The first slammed up to him, clicking his gun and ready to fire. Tony grabbed his wrist as he approached, clumsily twisting and placing his armored hand over the barrel, only just able to stop the metal that bounced against his hand painfully.

He took in a wispy breath, adrenaline pumping. He threw the man into the next one, forcing them to tumble to the ground, not that it would keep them down for long. He turned to the next one, firing two quick excessive shots that blasted the gun out of his hand and sent it clattering on the pavement. Tony punched him, his metal hand swiftly knocking him out.

Three down. Three to go.

The two he'd shoved to the ground earlier had stumbled back up, and now all three surrounded him, guns drawn and pointed at him. Tony pointed his gauntlet, gasping for air and refusing to move from where he stood over his kid protectively.

"Give it up, Stark," the tallest man demanded, a trickle of blood running from a cut over his eyes. Tony glanced around harriedly, desperately searching for an escape, for something to use. The sound of whooshing let him know he didn't have to.

"I've never been known for that," he snarked back, ducking and swerving for Penny just as the suit clanked down in front of him. Tony didn't even have to watch the fight, though he would've preferred to see the way their faces widened and whitened with fear, instead kneeling beside his kid.

No longer in direct contact with the peppermint bomb, the swelling had receded, and, when he placed two fingers to her neck, he was relieved to discover her heart was beating normally. Her breaths were a little shallow, but she'd live.

Penny blinked awake, her eyelashes fluttering open. For a moment, she looked lost, unfocused and unseeing, before they shifted and locked onto him. Immediately, a look of trust washed over her, and it made Tony equally terrified and fond. He'd barely saved her, yet she still held out a hand and gripped his fingers as though he would protect her forever.

He would try.

"Are you o'ay?" Penny mumbled, her words heavy as she began to regain control of her body. Tony wanted to scoff, but he was sure he looked like a bruised and horrid mess. His eye was bruising, his nose tender and broken, and trickles of blood escaping from given cuts.

"I'm great, kiddo," he responded instead, "But I think our little playdate is over, so why don't we go home?"

"I wanted you to see the Captain America doll."

"We'll go another time," he assured.

"Really?"

"Really."

[peach-the-owl]

Child of the Nein

When you first meet (Mighty Nein & Child!Reader) Part 1

This popped into my head one day and I don’t think I‘ve seen anyone else do something like this so I thought: Hey why not? You know because a child in a group of adventurers couldn’t possibly go wrong

Also they may not be 100% accurate to their back story but I kept them as close as I could

Jester

Jester weaved her way through the streets of Nicodranas until she had reached the edge of the port side city. Looking now at the necklace upon her, lost in thought, her bittersweet thoughts of home quickly interrupted however by rustling bushes nearby. Thinking one of the guards had found her she readied herself to run, only to freeze when a child looking no older then 8 comes tumbling out of it.

You pick yourself up off the ground and brush off some dirt, you then look up to see a pretty blue lady in front of you. She seemed nice, and it’d be rude not to say hello to her. "Hello, pretty blue lady." You give her a wave and a smile, which is happily returned by them.

"Hello! What's a cute little kid like you doing here all alone?" She kneels down and pokes your nose when asking, causing you to giggle.

"I’m exploring!" You state eagerly.

"Oh, I see. Where’s your momma and papa?" You look around before giving a shrug. "Do you have a momma and papa?" You shrug again, not knowing how to answer.

"Hey what’s that?" You ask pointing to the pendent on her waist. This caused her eyes to brighten more.

"This is my symbol of the Traveler, have you ever heard of him?" You shake your head and lean in closer to hear more. "Well he’s a really cool guy and can do really amazing things."

"Wow! That sounds awesome! Oh, I’m (y/n) by the way!" You say, realizing you forgot to introduce yourself.

"I’m Jester." Jester holds her hand out for you to shake, which you eagerly do.

"So Jester, what are you doing here all alone?" You ask, mimicking her earlier question. You see Jesters smile drop a little.

"I made a really powerful man reeallly angry, but he was also a big jerk so he had it coming, *sigh* but to stay safe I have leave home."

"Can I come! I love adventuring and exploring, it’ll be sooooo much fun with someone else too!" You bounce on your feet and look at her expectantly. Jester did like the sound of having someone to travel with and an opportunity to talk more about the Traveler, and by the looks of things you didn’t have anyone else with you (which is a little sad for someone still so young).

"Of course you can!" Jaester agreed, having you around seemed like fun not to mention you reminded Jester of herself when she was young and couldn’t wait to introduce you to the ways of the Traveler and all the mischief you two would make. What could possibly go wrong?

Nott

Being the young runt in a clan of goblins made things hard for you, being seen as weak and useless lead to them constantly bullying and pushing you around. One day while forced to help carry some of the heavy equipment for the torturer you had slipped up causing everything you carried to crash to the ground. You try to ignore the yelling and ridicule from the torturer but you could feel the tears pricking your eyes which lead to more yelling, you slowly pick yourself up and start going to grab the equipment. It’s then you notice the stares of the assistant on you, you duck your head down lower and continue about your prior job.

Nott watched from a safe distance as her "boss" yelled at the smaller goblin, she knew better then to intervene. Still she couldn’t help but feel some pity for the little one as she understood what it’s like to be bullied for being different, and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to feeling her maternal instinct kick in for the child. When the torturer finally left Nott decided to make her move, carefully approaching them.

"It's no fun being bullied around is it." Her shrill voice causes you to stumble a bit. After a brief moment of pause you you slowly shake your head. "Do you even like it here?" You didn’t know what she was getting at, nonetheless you shake your head again. After a longer pause you figured the more one-sided conversation was done so you once again go back to heaving the equipment along.

"What if we could leave?" Now she had your full attention.

"H-how do we do that?" You voice came out quiet and scratchy, due to hardly using it.

"I’m not sure yet but I’ll figure something out."

"Ok… but why-why help me? I’m not very big or strong, I’d probably just hold you back." You look into her big yellow eyes in search of an answer, unsure if you could actually trust them.

"I used to feel the same, still do sometimes, but I think since we both don’t like it here we can help each other out." Being young the logic seemed sound enough for you.

"Alright, let's do it." You wanted to shout with excitement but kept you voice down not wanting to redraw the attention of the torturer.

"I’m…… Nott, that’s N-O-T-T." Nott gave you a faint smile, you stare at her with a confused expression which she catches onto. "Oh that’s right, you don’t know how to spell do you. That’s alright, can you tell me your name?"

"I don’t got one. They just call me runt because that’s what I am." You look down to the ground, suddenly finding it more interesting as you shuffle your feet about. Nott pondered on this for a moment before lighting up with an idea.

"How about I call you (y/n), has a good ring to it don’t you think?" The name sounded a little strange to you but in a good way, definatly not a traditional goblin name, still you liked it all the same. Giving Nott a nod and your first real toothy smile in awhile (hey that rhymed), you both decided to sneakily think of ways to free yourselves from the clan. What could possibly go wrong?

Caleb

The people here in Vergesson Sanatorium said you were psychotic. Being 5 you didn’t know what that meant, all you can remember is watching as the "pretty colours danced" and now you where here in this big boring building. They say it’s for your own good, that it’s the only place you’ll get the help and care you need. Again you didn’t quite understand what that was supposed to mean, you had asked if you could go home once but they said that this was your home now and it would have to be until you were older and fully recovered. Everything they said just left you confused and with more questions; why couldn’t you go home, what were you even recovering from, and many more all of which you never got the answer to. There were other people "like you" here but many of them didn’t seem much fun or up for a chat leaving you bored to wits end, but that all changed (when the fire nation attacked) when you bumped into someone while roaming around. You crane your neck up to see a man with messy reddish hair, next to him laying on the ground was a guard, you could recognize that uniform anywhere. The man then turns to look at you with a glare, you stare into his eyes for a moment before pointing to the guard.

"Is he sleeping?" It seemed like an odd question but you had always been a curious soul. The man looks between you and the guard, his glare having now turned into a deadpanned expression.

"Ja, he is." Is his responce to you before he starts walking away, you take this as a sign and follow him. Not without noticing a small red puddle by the guard as you pass them, however you just thought he must’ve had too much tomato juice before taking a nap. Continuing through the winding halls of the sanatorium you realize you’ve never been to this area yet.

"Where are we going?" You pipe up, causing the man to halt his movement in surprise so wrapped up in his objective he didn’t realize you had been following him.

"I am leaving." He put a big emphasis on the I hoping you take the hint, you didn’t.

"Can I come? Please it’s so boring here, everything’s the same, I wanna go outside and-"

"Stop!" You stop and look at him, his eyes calculating you, not that you would’ve caught onto that. After a moment of your little staring contest he mumbles something you can’t quite catch, other then the words "small" and "useful". "Very well," he says loud enough for you to hear now, "you may come along but you must listen and do exactly as I say, understand."

"Yeah, ok!" You couldn’t contain your enthusiasm, practically bouncing around, finally you could leave this boring place and go somewhere more exciting. You would’ve run to give this man a hug but he held up his hand, once again stopping you.

"First rule, none of this… over excitement. Second rule, stay as quiet as possible, we don’t want to attract any attention." You immediately stop and give a slight nod to show him you were listening, just like he’d asked. After what felt like hours of wandering to you, you finally find yourself back in the colourful outside world, it’s also at this time you realized you never gave this man your name.

"I just remembered that I forgot to tell you my name's (y/n). What’s yours?" You look to him expectantly, waiting for him to tell you his name. He turns to you, a slight annoyed expression on his face. Opening his mouth to say something he hesitates.

"My name… is… not important right now." He says, carefully picking his choice of words. "First we must focus on leaving the area undetected, and remember to stay quiet." You give a quiet "oh yeah" before following his lead and sneaking off. At last you were free from the sanatorium, with a strange and scruffy man… What could possibly go wrong?

Caduceus

You pushed through the thick vegetation that surrounded the area going as fast as your legs could carry you. You can hear your mothers words repeating in your head; "My child, you must hurry! Go! Seek help at the Blooming Grove!" You’d heard of the place before, from others in your clan, but never visited it yourself. None of that mattered at the moment as you continued to traverse through the sharp, thorny vines, giving little thought to the various cuts you were receiving. Finally after days of running and hiding you see a graveyard, and based upon what you were told it matched the description of the Blooming Grove. You only take a few steps forward before your knees buckle under you, the exhaustion of tireless travel and the various wounds having finally crept up on you to take their toll. You pass out soon after.

Another day of tending to the graves of the departed had become a pleasant routine for Caduceus, however he did have to admit it felt lonesome since the last of his family had left to seek a cure for the blight that plagued the area. The sound of a soft thud draws him away from his thoughts, he looks over his shoulder but doesn’t see anything at first. Slowly he makes his way over to the source of the sound and scans the area, surprised to find a rather young firbolg laying unconscious a few feet from the entrance of the temple. He scans the area again but finds no one else in the immediate vicinity, as he makes his way closer to the child he soon notices the many cuts and bruises that litter their body. It's as if some maternal instinct kicked in as Caduceus carefully gathers the child into his arms and brings them into the temple without a second thought. He gently lays them on one of his sisters beds and begins treating their wounds, patching up the smaller cuts with bandage and using his magic to heal the more concerning gashes that covered the youngling.

You slowly creak your eyes open and immediately notice your new surroundings, you also couldn’t help but notice the bandages that now coverered your arms and legs. "Good to see you’re finally awake." You shift you’re attention to the door where the pink haired firbolg stands with what looks to be a fresh kettle of tea. "I’m Caduceus." He says gently, seeing the slight confusion on your face.

"Ummm… hi. I’m (y/n)." Despite everything you find it hard to form words, settling on the awkward greeting. He laughs softly before setting down the kettle and pouring a cup of tea, the gentle aroma wafting around you. He silently offers you a cup which you happily accept, the awkwardness of earlier quickly melting away.

"So tell me (y/n), what are you doing here all alone?" He gives you a concerned look, you shuffle in place, trying to find the right words to use.

"My… my home got raided by a tribe of forest giants, my family tried to settle things calmly but they wouldn’t listen. My momma told me to look for help at the Blooming Grove, and from what I was told this seems to be the place." The was a long pause once you finished your story, the silence feeling suffocating the longer it went on.

"I’m sorry that happened to you, and while you did find your way here I… I’ve been the only one here for the last 5 maybe 6 years now." The information slowly sinks in and as it does your ears flatten and your tail wraps around your legs, curling yourself into a ball. Tears well up in your eyes at the thought of everything you did being for nothing, only when you felt Caduceus' hand gently place itself on your back did you snap back to reality and redirect your attention onto him. "It’s not all bad if you think about it."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"You’re still alive and you were able to make through the dangers of the forest and find your way here without ever having been here before. I don’t think that’s just some coincidence, I believe you were guided here for a reason, that somehow someday you and I will have a greater role to fulfill."

"You really think so?" You rub the tears from your eyes a bit and give him a rather adorable doe eyed stare. He gives you a kind smile and nods. His words defiantly helped you feel a little better, and the both of you now had each other for company until destiny decided to call you elsewhere. What could possibly go wrong?

Part 2 will be out soon-ish (hopefully) with the rest of the Mighty Nein I didn’t feature here (obviously)

[sebthesnipe]

Pencils

A prompt that myself and @gilby-the-geek-girl​ decided to do a ‘write this in your style’ involving Logicality roommates and Ticonderoga #2 Pencils

You can read her’s here.

Also check out her main AU that its based in on AO3 here.

If you’re interested here are some links to my work as well:

The Collection (My Oneshots)

My Dearest Procyon (My Multi-Chapter Magical!AU)

Other works by me

Now! Lets get this party started!!!!

Logan gave a small curse as another one of his pencils broke inside his cheap sharpener. He tilted the small plastic container to get a better look inside. Sure enough, a large piece of lead was stuck inside the small cone, pressing against the razor’s edge. He wouldn’t be able to resharpen his pencil until it was removed.

As he took the small pencil sharpener apart, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. Perhaps, he could rearrange his budget to allow him to purchase some better writing utensils. Patton had already convinced him to spend some extra money on the ‘B2p’s. He had been right about them. The pens were 89% recycled water bottles, which was good for the environment, and they wrote very smoothly, which helped ease the pain that writing caused.

Carpal tunnel syndrome was far more unpleasant that Logan had expected it to be. Of course, he hadn’t expected to enjoy the tingling or numbness, but the sheer amount of pain it caused was staggering. The simple act of holding a pen longer than half an hour was something he could no longer do without the help of an anti inflammatory. His all night note taking sessions were now cut by more than half, and that was on a good night with a decent writing implement.

Surgery was possible, but it would pull him out of school for far too long, and cost more than he was willing to spend without the proper insurance. He was far too close to graduation and couldn’t afford the recovery time, mentally or financially. At least, not yet. For now, he would bide his time and push onwards towards his end goal.

He sighed as he pressed his pencil into the cleared sharpener and twisted. For now, he would make due. The pens Patton had recommended were more than satisfactory, but he only had a small budget for his supplies.

He removed the pencil and examined the now sharpened tip. The graphite was uneven, but pointed enough for his note taking, though the wood around it was rough and almost fuzz-like. It would smudge the graphite’s markings if he wasn’t careful. Luckily he was accustomed to such cheap craftsmanship and could make due with what he had.

He set the sharpener aside and took stock at the desk before him. Everything had its place. His box of untouched pencils sat perfectly parallel above his notebook, directly right of his lamp. His three subject college ruled spiral was open to a half written page, marked with a small blue tab indicating that it was on the topic of Mathematics (specifically Number Theory). Behind the blue tab, a number of tabs could be seen, neatly lined along the pages, each representing a different course. To the right of his spiral lay five sharpie brand highlights, each a different color, placed in a perfectly straight line. Every color had its purpose, just as every tab of his notebook did.

Logan could not compromise when it came to certain tools. He needed a brand of highlighter that would not bleed through his textbook pages or smudge his notes whether he wrote in pen or pencil. He needed pens that were a bit more pricey so as to ensure a smooth glide without bleeding or ink transfers. He needed index cards made of a decent caliber to avoid damage or creases. All of these things were important. Far more important than the way a pencil sharpened, or turned fuzzy or smudged when he tried to erase it.

There was no more room in the budget for any pencils better than the ones that he had and that was that. He would just have to live with the way the graphite would snap when he tried to underline something. He would have to deal with the way the lead would fall out of the faux wood, or the lines seemed muted unless he put more force behind it, which made his hands hurt even worse. It was all a sacrifice he must be willing to make. He couldn’t afford better.

He couldn’t help another small growl as he made a mistake on his graph and moved to erase it, the cheap eraser ripping through the paper. He stared at the spot for a long moment, willing himself to just leave it. It was just a small hole. He could work around it. He didn’t need to redo the entire page.

It was just a hole…

A tiny inconsequential hole…

Miniscule… infinitesimal….

UGH! Logan ripped the page from the spiral, crinkling it in his hands before tossing it into the bin next to him. Everything had its place! Everything was meant to be somewhere and a hole was not meant to be in the middle of his notes!

He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to push away the headache he could feel coming on just as his phone’s alarm began to sound. It seemed more time had passed than he had expected. Logan pushed to his feet, producing his phone and swiping away the alarm as he moved to pack up and head to his first class of the day.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Logan pushed open the door to their shared dorm, dark locks falling into his eyes as they dripped water onto the mat beneath his feet. He was silent as he kicked the door shut and began to shed his outer layers.

It was late. Far later than it should have been. Logan did not like when things didn’t go according to schedule. His second class ran long, which meant he was late to lunch, which didn’t give him the sufficient amount of time to go to the library as he had planned without skipping his meal. Which made him feel a bit lethargic during his third and fourth class, causing him to forget his bag, which had him missing his train. Which meant he had to wait forty-five minutes for the next one. Then the rain started, which was not in the forecast; which meant Logan’s ten minute walk home had him soaked through completely.

It had not been a good day.

He took stock of the small apartment. Patton must have already gone to bed. The poor man had four a.m. classes. Most culinary students started earlier than the rest of the students. It was no wonder the man was so early to bed. Well, ever since Logan provided him with the optimal schedule for his ideal personal time to study/class ratio that is. It seemed to be working out for him, though Logan didn’t get to see him much anymore, which was surprisingly disappointing. The man was far too chipper, but he certainly knew how to make Logan smile.

Logan headed for his room and the attached bathroom, dropping his bag next to his desk and trying not to drip too much on the carpet. He needed to get out of his sodding clothes before he caught a cold.

Fifteen minutes, a hot shower and some dry clean clothes later and Logan felt like a new man. He checked the time. There were still a few hours before bed. It wasn’t as much as he had hoped, but he could still manage some studying.

He moved to his desk, pulling out his chair and sinking down, thankful the day was beginning to wind down. He pulled his bag closer and dug out his spiral, opening it to the page he had been working on earlier that morning and laying it out neatly exactly where it belonged. He reached for his pencil and…

He froze. His usual box of 12ct #2b cheap off-brand pencils were buried. His heart skipped a beat as he stared at what lay atop them. He couldn’t believe it. Atop those horrid, demonic, sorry-excuse for pencils lay a box of 24ct Dixon Ticonderoga premium wood #2 pencils with latex free erasers.

Logan took a moment to calm his excited heart. Before he knew it, he was reaching out with a shaky hand, collecting the box for examination. The clear plastic had been unopened, each stick perfectly preserved within the transparent packaging. Logan turned the object over in his hands, admiring its beauty as he caught sight of thick black words scrawled in sharpie on the back.

‘To Logan, From Patton. I saw these and thought of you. So, I bought them. It just felt ‘WRITE’! XD’

Logan couldn’t help but give a snort at the joke before fumbling to open the box. It almost felt like Christmas had come early as he pulled one of the pencils from its place among the others and set the box aside. He took a moment to examine the utensil in all its glory before reaching for his sharpener.

He inserted the blunted wood and twisted. Once. Twice. Thrice. He heard the sound of the graphite against metal and pulled the pencil out, bringing it to eye level for inspection.

The sharply pointed lead was smooth and crackless, forming a seamless cone with the sleek pale wood that surrounded it. It had glided so perfectly against the razor’s edge and now stood regal and polished before him. It was perhaps one of the most stunning sights he had ever laid his eyes on.

His chest tightened as his smile widened, moving to redraw the graph he had damaged earlier. He drew the lead across the paper gently, the line coming out smooth and dark. Just as it should be. He flipped the pencil in one quick and fluid motion and erased a small portion, the graphite coming off cleanly and without much force. It was satisfying and rejuvenating.

How could he have ever thought a day like this could be bad?! He had everything he ever wanted! Warm clothes, a perfectly tempered room, his desk organized exactly as it should be, and a friend who cared enough to-

Realization hit, ‘The World’s Best Pencil’ falling from his fingers and clattering to his desk (without so much as chipping the perfectly pointed tip) as he brought his hand to cover his mouth in shock.

His heart pounded against his ribs almost painfully. His other hand tangled in his still damp locks. This couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t prone to emotional outbursts. Everything he did was purposefully calculated and scheduled. How could he… He wasn’t…. This wasn’t possible…. But the evidence was building against him.

Logan Sanders was falling in love with his best friend.

Taglist:

@nightashes

[marvelandimagine]

In My Home

Series summary: After Wakanda opens its borders, you begin working in Shuri’s lab as part of an all-women STEM program, and you meet a certain White Wolf. What starts out as mutual bonding over science turns into much more than you ever could have anticipated.

Pairing: Bucky x scientist reader

Word Count: 3,400

Warnings: Language, PTSD

A/N: I think this is the longest first chapter I’ve written in my life oops guess that’s what happens when you’re gone for two years!! I regret nothing. Bucky POV coming in part 2! Loosely inspired by “In My Home” by Young the Giant.

“Please, you powerful little receptor, I am BEGGING you to bind with this epinephrine, BEGGING YOU.”

You cross your fingers and peer into the microscope, only to be met with what feels like the 100th disappointment this week. No positive binding. No responsiveness. Nothing.

Your foot connects with the side of your lab table, increasingly faster with every syllable you yell, causing Francesca, the new program recruit from Spain, to quickly inch her chair away from your adjacent work station.

“GOD DAMMIT YOU MOTHERFU—“

“Good results?”

You halt mid kick and turn to face Shuri, her eyes lit up in amusement as she surveys you over the rim of her Starbucks frappucino with a loud slurp––they’ve been her new obsession ever since Wakanda opened the borders and built one two blocks from her lab. As much as you’ve grown to bond with her in the time since she invited you to work in Wakanda as part of her new all-women biotech research program, in this moment, you have to truly fight back the urge to slap the drink out of her hand.

You collapse into a desk chair, trying your best to joke as usual with your new friend but find your words coming out gritted anyways:

“What, no coffee for me?”

As if on cue, three handmaidens appear holding recyclable trays of various caffeinated beverages for the team, who cheer and abandon their current projects for a moment to collect their drinks in a flurry of movement.

One of the handmaiden approaches and you sheepishly accept your cold brew, grimacing at Shuri in a way that you hope reads, “Sorry, I’m an asshole.”

Shuri snorts and rolls her eyes, but her tone is light:

“Colonizers. Always so impatient.”

She nods over to your desk.

“And not just with Starbucks orders.”

You let out a frustrated exhale.

“Shuri, I’ve been here for two months. I have the most advanced resources and tech on the planet at my fingertips, and yet I still have nothing concrete to show for it––nothing to show you for it.”

Your tone gets quieter but maintains its intensity.

“Look, you brought me here because I know you know that, if I can get this, we can change lives everywhere––and not just soldiers, but anyone trying to work through PTSD or severe trauma. Being able to de-intensify the physiological response to triggers to shorten dissociative periods or even get rid of them so we can get a stronger sense of normalcy back, to lessen that fear and strain even a little -- that’s worth the long haul, I know it’s a long haul, one that’s worth the setbacks and sleep deprivation and madness because that’s science and I love it, but, I don’t know.”

You sigh before taking a sip of your coffee.

“I just thought I’d be farther along, that’s all.”

Shuri grabs a chair and wheels it to face you.

“Do you know how many trials it took before I got the nanotech working seamlessly in brother’s suit?”

“Knowing you, probably three.”

“Four, actually.”

You groan and cover your eyes but Shuri drags your hands away from your face, clasping them in her own.

“Let me finish! Do you know how many trials it took for me to get the remote access functioning in the Kimoyo Beads?”

“More than four?”

“759 to be exact, and they still have much room to improve. My point, Y/N is to not be discouraged.”

She looks at you seriously.

“I would not have brought you here if your body of work was not excellent. The work we’re all doing” — she turns and gestures around the room of women who have all returned to their respective stations, coffees in hand and intently focused on various glowing blue projections of statistics and diagrams hanging in the air, the sound of rapid keystrokes and odd hisses and bangs echoing around the room. “we can only know so much until we know more, yes?”

As if on cue, you feel a rush of heat move past you as Francesca hurls the flaming, mangled remains of what looks like a helmet into the sink, flinging on the spray faucet and wiping her brow as her ruined demo piece hisses with smoking finality.

You turn back to face Shuri.

“Point taken.”

You rest your chin on one hand, shaking your head slightly.

“Why are you so wise?? You’re 13 years younger than I am and dropping some real life truths.”

“The real life truth is that I think you need a break.”

You laugh and take another sip of your coffee.

“I can’t say I disagree with you.”

Shuri grins, her eyes lighting up with mischief.

“You know who else needs some fun in their life?”

“Who?”

“Bucky!”

You swear internally as your heartbeat immediately quickens at the sound of his name, averting your eyes as you spin your chair away from Shuri, but she scoots herself closer.

“I’m sure he would loooove to spend a whole day with his favorite scientist.” Her grin widens. “And I’m sure you would loooove to spend a whole day with your White Wolf.”

You roll your eyes, trying to stop yourself from smiling and failing miserably, which only seems to delight Shuri more as you shake your head with a half-assed:

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. We’re friends.”

“More than friends!” Shuri yells, poking your shoulder in quick succession. “You do not look at friends the way you look at each other! I took that broken white boy all over the city, show him my lab, and he says maybe three sentences—to me, the girl who saved his brain —but for some reason, he has no problem asking the American a million questions about science and tech and how her work is coming.”

You feign as much nonchalance as you can in your response, but you can’t help how light your chest feels at her acknowledging Bucky’s supposed eagerness to talk to you.

“You said it, we’re both American, maybe he just feels more comfortable--”

“Comfortable enough to spend hours sitting with you while you work, hmm? And you, letting him, you, the same woman whose shouting made W’Kapi look like an antelope in headlights when he came for my tech upgrade and got too close to your samples!

“Hey, I apologized, but I was not about to redraw 10 vials of my blood that got contaminated all because some border security chief decided -”

Shuri presses on.

“The first time I saw Bucky smile was when he was with you, and you two go on walks and eat lunch together,” Shuri crosses her arms with a broad grin as she delivers her final piece of what she evidently deems as damning evidence, “and I know you are the only person besides me and brother who has gone out to see him.”

You open your mouth and close it, your brain firing on all cylinders to come up with some kind of argument, any kind of argument, to deflect away from your relationship with Bucky. Because thinking about it, talking about it, made the way you felt whenever you were together that much harder to try to ignore.

But you’ve got nothing because, while you can’t speak for him, you know Shuri’s right. You don’t just like him as a friend. You like him way more than that, want him way more than that. But you aren’t sure you’re ready to deal with all of that.

You didn’t anticipate catching feelings -- you didn’t even anticipate meeting this quiet, attractive stranger. It was a few months earlier, only a few weeks into your stay in Wakanda. The combination of excitement and anxiety and the time change had meant you weren’t sleeping much, so you went into the lab early to get some work done. You were in the zone — with the lab all to yourself, you were able to comfortably spread out your work across tables and even onto the floor, blaring your “productive playlist” at full volume as you ran through your latest brain scan videos and blood samples.

Your phone pinged and you checked it to find a message from Shuri:

“Gonna be in late -- Bucky is supposed to be in at 6:30 for his scan, so just tell him I’m behind.”

Shuri had briefly explained the situation with Bucky to you last week, and while you found yourself being fascinated by the logistics of how Shuri deprogrammed decades worth of conditioning, you also felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and empathy for what he had been through. When Shuri suggested bringing him as a data sample and to see if he’d consent to participate when your clinical trial took off, your head instinctively agreed, but your heart won out, telling her that you still weren’t close to a full-fledged medication, and, besides, you thought the guy had been treated as an experiment for so long—you didn’t want to add to that, not when, based on what Shuri said, he was finally in a semi-stable place to heal.

You were still definitely curious to meet him, though, so you texted back an “ok” but found it odd that she didn’t just tell him herself. The thought faded, though, as you quickly became absorbed back into your work.

You didn’t even realize the time that had passed until you heard the gentle woosh of the lab doors sliding open, barely audible over the growling, fast-riffed Rise Against track that was currently playing:

“Do you still believe in all the things that you stood by before?

Are you out there on the front lines or at home keeping score?”

Would you care to be the layer of the bricks that seal your fate,

or would you rather be the architect of what we might create?”

Bucky didn’t see you at first, but you saw him. Even just from his side profile — his hair, his beard, the muscle clearly prominent even underneath his dark clothes — you thought he was gorgeous.

You did your best to keep your cool, though, as you walked out from behind your lab table in the back corner, turning off the music with two taps of your fingers in the air.

“Hi, Bucky?”

He whips around to face you, and your initial impression attraction to him was only heightened as you were met with a pair of brilliant blue eyes, but you were also thrown by the panic you see in them, how fast his posture shifts to defensive.

You held up your hands.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you — I work here.” You gestured to the back corner of the lab, his eyes following.

“I’m Y/N, Shuri’s latest recruit. She told me to tell you she’s gonna be late for your scan.” You smiled, hoping it would ease his tension, and it seemed to work because he unclenched his fist. “You can hang out wherever, and don’t worry about bothering me— as you can tell by the sound from when you walked in, I thrive in chaos.”

He just stared blankly at you, seemingly uncertain of how to respond.

Uncomfortable in the silence, you turned away to go back to your corner, but stopped as he asked quietly, but with genuine curiosity:

“What are you working on?”

You looked back and he actually gave you a small smile, and you were surprised to find your cheeks warming up.

Your panic about feeling all kinds of things over a solitary smile must have read on your face, but Bucky misinterpreted it as reluctance, and so he quickly backtracked:

“You probably get asked that all the time, I’m sorry, I don’t want to distract you.” He averted his eyes and your brain finally caught back up to speed.

“What? No, it’s totally fine!” You sat down at your desk, wheeling over another chair. “C’mere. I’ll show you.”

And that’s how it started. For whatever reason, as you went on and on in excitement about your project, about how you collected 500 data samples back home, about how you were now working with binary augmented retro framing, Bucky got more and more relaxed around you, asking questions and laughing at some of your jokes. And you felt more and more relaxed with him, falling into a rhythm that felt both comfortable and utterly exhilarating. You were pleasantly surprised by his sense of dry humor that matched his own, and any man who openly admired your work got an automatic extra few points in your book.

And when Bucky paused and asked why you were doing all this work on PTSD, you still felt somehow just as comfortable as you were joking around with him as you were then candidly sharing about some of the things that happened to you. You were normally pretty open about the trauma in your story, but you were usually pretty brief, even in the support group you went to. But here, with him, captivated by this newfound connection you felt, it was easy to not just share, but to truly open up, and not just about what happened, but what you had been doing to try to heal and move forward. And you were floored when he reciprocated—Shuri told you he was pretty shy, but here he was, telling you some of things that kept him up at night, about how he felt like, even with Shuri’s work, what he had been through still felt like it was always pressing on him, like it would always be engraved into his bones.

You hadn’t even realized that an hour had passed by the time Shuri came into the lab, apologizing for being late but saying she was glad you two had finally been introduced.

“So am I,” Bucky had murmured quietly to you, and you smiled in a daze and nodded in agreement, trying to still maintain your composure because what in the fuck was happening here between you two already, this felt like it could be something, even though you had no intention of looking for something when he walked into the lab. It was dizzying and overwhelming but it lit you up from the inside out, beaming back at him as he asked if he could come back to see you—see your work, as he adjusted quickly, and so you gave him your number and said he was welcome to come up anytime.

And he did. And you weren’t an idiot, you had a pretty good sense of when a man was interested in you, and it certainly felt like that as you kept spending more and more time together -- the way he looked at you sometimes made you feel like passing out and grabbing his face to make out at the same time. But still, there was that hesitation, the uncertainty and anxiety -- what if you were wrong? What if he genuinely just appreciated your company, liked having someone who had been through similar shit to talk to? What if that was it and nothing more?

All of this runs through your head as you sit there, and you realize there’s it’s pointless to try to refute a fact backed by evidence. You liked him. You really, really liked him. And if there was a chance he felt the same, if an objective third party like Shuri even sensed something romantic between you two—maybe it was time to stop hiding behind your fear.

“I --” You run your hands down your face, knowing you’re going to feel both defeated and liberated by your admission, “fuck it, yeah, ok you win. I like Bucky.” You sigh, the words rolling off your tongue seeming to solidify how you felt inside, making it even more irrefutable. “Goddammit.”

Shuri throws her fist in the air.

“HA! You admit it, more than friends!”

“Shhh, Jesus, I can’t speak for him, but yeah, maybe, I don’t know, just keep your voice down!” you hiss, pushing your palms toward the floor as you crane your neck to see if anyone is paying attention, but they’re all too absorbed in their own work.

“Not maybe, definitely!” Shuri grins, resting her chin on her hands. “So, take the day off, go spend it with him. I’m sure one of you will crack and finally break the sexual tension.”

You groan and cover your eyes, shaking your head. “Oh my god, we’re not having this conversation.”

You look up, your anxiety getting the best of you.

“But I don’t even know what we should do for the rest of the day.”

“Ah, but I do! You should go to echibi elikhulu -- the great lake. Baba used to take mother all the time when they were younger.”

You frown, confused.

“Where is there a lake in Wakanda?”

Shuri chuckles.

“Well, technically, there isn’t one -- not on any map, anyways. Just because we opened the borders doesn’t mean we gave away all of our hidden treasures to the rest of the world.” She smiles, clasping your hands, “But I will certainly tell you about it in the name of true love! Only if, and I mean, if, you tell me EVERYTHING that happens.”

You laugh and shake her hands emphatically, touched by her willingness to share this piece of her home with you, with Bucky.

“Deal.”

You still feel nervous, but it’s mostly excitement now as you think about not only getting to enjoy the beach, but to be able to stop dancing around your feelings for Bucky -- if you had the courage to finally admit it to him, and he reciprocated, it would absolutely be worth the time away in the lab.

Shuri jumps up from her chair. “Then no time to waste! You can take my Jeep, I’ll program the GPS to get you there and back.” Her tone changes suddenly to businesslike. “You go home, shower, change, and get your things ready, and I’ll meet you outside in 45 minutes.”

You tilt your head to the side slightly, trying to work out the final aspectt hat’s puzzling you.

“Why do you care so much about us getting together?” You pause, quickly adding,” And I don’t mean that to sound shitty, I’m just curious.”

“Y/N, when I know something can be improved, I want to help. You both have suffered, and you each seem to find peace in each other -- you’re good for each other. I think you’d be happier together and could even heal better together then just as ‘friends.’” She smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And, also, then I could say I set up the cutest colonizer couple in the country.”

You smile back. “I appreciate it.” Your tone softens. “Really, I do. Thanks for the push.”

“You’re most welcome. Now go! I’ll see you in a bit.”

You quickly grab your backpack from your lab table, shoving in notebooks and folders before you swipe your coffee of the counter, give Shuri a wave, and power walk out the door.

You laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, how agitated you were this morning compared to how you were nearly bouncing down the street in anticipation now, the prospect of exploring a new and beautiful place with Bucky and finally telling him how you felt buoying in your chest.

You felt determined, you felt like you might throw up, but above every emotion and thought racing around inside you, you felt hope.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S3 Ep 43: Tea Can Just Knock Over Joey Wheeler With Her Index Finger

Guys guys guys, my favorite Character is back. That’s right--the storyboarder!

So this episode looked helllla nice for a Yugioh episode (again, this is Yugioh, it will win no awards.) It wasn’t as nice and fluid as the episode where they temporarily killed off Joey Wheeler, but I give it a good 2nd place.

You can tell we’re getting to the climax of the season because they’re throwing down their most entertaining art people onto the screen, giving us about 5 zillion dutch angle fashion close-ups of Marik’s cabbage face, and a whole lot of zany and hard to very hard to draw fish-eye lens angles of Pharaoh.

Also, everyone wears flared bell-bottom pants now. New stylistic decision, as decided just now. Everyone in pants now has flares. Even if their pants are cargo pants. How very 00′s. (my pants were flares from like birth until 2006, it was a good trend, super comfy, bring it back.)

(read more under the cut)

First off, Evil Marik decided to rewrite Marik history a little bit with some hilarious retconning that only the most evil Marik would think is legit.

I mean I was there when Marik was introduced and was a complete asshole all of S2. I remember when Odion considered murdering the hell out of his little brother because this Marik guy was such freakin tool and his Dad was an evil cultist bastard. I...I’m gonna go on a limb and assume that calling Marik a “loyal servant” is a freakin stretch. Marik made his choices. Yes, his bad side killed his Dad, but they have made sure to indicate that yes, this is the evil inside of Marik, something that he himself caused--but most of the things that Marik has done (with the exception of killing his own Dad) is still Marik. He did that.

The fact that his evil side can’t quite connect that his good side and evil side are at all the same however, is fitting for an evil Marik to think. More and more, Marik and Marik are becoming 2 different people, and this game is the deciding factor to finally give this guy full autonomy of his other half.

We’ve seen this type of contrast before with Bakura and Ryou--where Ryou and Bakura don’t really get along but have always been clearly different people, so the culpability of what they do tends to fall on Bakura. (which is a pretty GRAND assumption, I still think Ryou is a precious but absolutely still shady little bastard) So, it’s a little different that Marik considers himself two completely different people when it’s just...not the same. Marik’s alter ego is just an ego. More like how Yami was in Season Zero but a little bit more evil. Both Marik’s have the same upbringing and the same source.

It’s been kind of an interesting progression now I can look back on it, where slowly the two have been clashing to the point that they are in fact different, disparate people now. The fact that Marik points out how his situation similar to Yugi and Pharaoh being a host is almost like “well yeah, it would have been nice to see how the whole Season Zero Yami evolved into more of a separate person over time, I’m glad you inferred that, and I’ll never get to see it, thanks” But again, all that is inferred. Whether Yami Yugi eventually became Pharaoh over time or whether Pharaoh is a big retcon of Yami Yugi for the new series in order to keep the culpability for what he does off of Yugi Muto was never directly spoken in the show so it’ll be left to your fanfictions.

Meanwhile, Yugi has decided that they’re going to try and purify the Marik situation and save the good side. This is sort of the Yugioh thing, to dispel the bad forces from people and leave behind hollow husks, so yeah...it tracks. I mean...there’s very little Marik left to save, but it’s better than a husk, amiright? Better than what happened to freakin PaniK, RIP. I’m sure erasing over half of your identity will go over real well for Marik and be absolutely painless.

And then we had a lovely scene that, for those people doing scene redraws from anime, as has been a popular trend on art blogs lately--this is your episode for Yugioh. This episode’s got moody lighting, we’ve subdued all our weird ass colors into one concrete palate (remember how green the carpet used to be?) we got interesting elements of Marik being here despite being chopped into pieces. We got so many ellipses drawn in perspective (y’all I could write an entire posts just about ellipses but I’ll spare you). It’s like Yugioh gave itself a redraw.

I can’t believe this shot came out of freakin Yugioh.

Also, this guy was an ASSHOLE for the past 2 seasons but the show was like “time to make him likeable” and so they dropped some good ass cinematography and sung that sad backstory tune on the trumpet and you know what? It works.

+++++++++++++++RANT ABOUT REDEMPTION ARCS FEEL FREE TO SKIP THIS MASSIVE WALL OF TEXT++++++++++++++++++++++++

Now I think the arc of Marik is pretty simple and people are pretty chill with it. But, I’m gonna talk about villain redemption arcs just in general--gonna sidetrack a little from Yugioh for a moment. Partly because I watched 6 seasons of Once Upon a Time, which is basically Villain Redemption Arc Controversy: The Show.

It bothers a hell ton of people when TV shows have to make a villain redeemable, but there’s only one episode left so they put their hands up and say “but I swear the good side of him was always good” But, does that mean Marik’s going to make up for all the murder and sending people to the shadow realm? No. He never will. Even if Marik was completely his bad half the whole time, it still wouldn’t make up for the damage done. Dead people are...DEAD.

Marik can’t actually make any choices right now to redeem his character. All he’s doing is accepting he will never be a full person ever again. Hence why he is in slices and pieces, and in several shots is trapped either in an empty glass or a window. The choice to redeem him is entirely on other people.

And that’s the thing about redemption arcs that I want to bring up--how much of a character’s redemption relies on what the villains do to “Make up for what they did”, and how much relies on everyone else to redeem them. I think the tendency is for people to assume that the villains should be doing 90-100% of the redeeming, but unless they have a time machine--they can’t do any. Even if they freakin die to sacrifice themselves it’s still like “that character was basically little Stalin, right?

I’ve seen like a million ways to write a redemption arc, but none of them, not a single one that I can think of, can ever truly make up for the things the villian has done. There’s no way that Darth Vadar was suddenly going to become a good Dad, no matter how many Palpatines he can toss into a...whatever that was at the end of that movie. That’s the riddle behind what makes redemption arcs so engaging--By all cultural standards these villains should always be tagged a “bad guy” but, we, the audience, are being challenged to ignore those standards.

And I know a lot of people see redemption arcs as a quasi-religious sort of adventure into atonement, where we’re supposed to see ourselves as the villain searching for some type of forgiveness from a higher, most-likely-a-reference-to-Jesus-power, but I don’t really see them that way. Maybe it’s because, I dunno, I haven’t killed anyone recently or possessed other people’s minds or strung them up to anchors and dropped them into the ocean. But if you see yourself as a Marik, then go for it, I won’t stop you.

But, to me, a redemption arc is more of a question posed for us as viewers. Since it is impossible for the writers to ever fully redeem a character, the only ones doing the redeeming are the people watching it, who’s reaction will differ wildly from person to person, and that’s what makes it fascinating.

And like, that’s my thesis here at the very last paragraph of this long meandering rant. Redemption arcs aren’t about “hey is this person good enough to be redeemed (because that will never happen)” it’s “are you too good to redeem that person?” It’s a large scale experiment on the viewers watching and that’s why it makes people so freakin pissed and uncomfortable. Every redemption arc calls them out directly, and for some people it’s just like--the world ends or something. I have seen actual internet mobs develop over...a villain redemption arc. Which is weird.

And so I’ll leave it with my other spicy take that...you don’t have to redeem every villain when the question is asked. I mean these aren’t real people. The questions of “would you redeem this person” is asked entirely hypothetically. And that’s what makes up stories, not just the interaction of the people inside the stories, but when it affects the moral structure of the readers directly, and seeing how for some people, that can be a very intense and deep reflection. (which usually leads to a hell ton of either retconning fanfiction or a hell ton of really, really angry posts)

bro’s just told me that Yugioh is just a redemption arc for season 0 Yami Yugi. Bro and his spicy headcanons. This one holds some water though, lol.

++++++++++++END OF A SUPER LONG RANT ABOUT VILLAINS THAT I HELD IN FOR THE ENTIRE 6 SEASONS OF ONCE UPON A TIME, WOW A LOT OF PEOPLE HAD OPINIONS ABOUT CERTAIN CHARACTERS THAT THEY JUST EXPECTED EVERYONE ELSE TO HAVE, AMIRIGHT????+++++++++++

Anyway, back to jokes.

Again, Storyboarder just...nailing these weird ass shoes that are somewhere between a dress shoe and a boot. Shoes are hard to draw, y’all. This storyboarder. And they even made sure that the shoes looked very small and precious the way Yugi shoes would be. Little Cinderella size 5 Yugi shoes.

Oh finally.

So it was only a matter of time before the people who actually care about being possessed noticed this situation, it just took like...a season longer than I thought it would. I’ll be honest it was quite cathartic for them to actually address for the first time in what feels like a long time “SHOOT, GHOSTS!?!?”

Although it was kind of funny that the biggest reaction to all of this came straight from Joey. Yugi still doesn’t care, Tristan’s decided to just accept this, and Duke is just slowly backing away. But Joey’s going to try and do the work that Yugi should have done last episode.

HOT DAMN.

So, lets go over the Yugioh power chart here. Tristan can punch out Bakura. Tristan can also defeat Seto Kaiba with a broomstick. Joey can kick Tristan, even when Tristan is armed with a broomstick, so hard that Tristan flew through a metal door and bent it completely over backwards. Tea, however, can knock Joey completely over with one single index finger.

How has this girl ever been abducted? Was she just bored?

Bro wants to bring up that she once incapacitated a man with her butt. Just falling on top of a guy and hitting him with her butt of steel. Was she even in danger from the shipping container when she could just bat it away? She once choked out Season 0 Yugi Muto. She was always fine.

Credit to Joey, he keeps trying, and it gives us, for the first time, a sneak peek into what it must be like for Yugi and Joey to hang out on the offtimes that Yugi switches over and Pharaoh hasn’t quite gotten the memo.

This is in fact, the second time that she’s done this.

(meanwhile, sitting next to Odion, is one single cargo pocket floating in the air, gently smoking a purple haze like incense)

Welcome back Odion! I only now just realized how freakin jacked your neck is.

Like y’all his neck is wider than his head, hot damn.

Anyway, this show is secretly all about the power of big brothers, so I assume he’s going to start the mile long crawl to the top of the tower and then just...walk in...just walk right into a shadow game...?

...no one thought to stay with Odion? Like not even Serenity? Or at least leave him a weelchair? what the hell?

Odion always gets the worst wrap, this poor guy.

Anyway if you just got here, this is a link to read these recaps in chrono order from the beginning and watch my progression of knowing nothing about Yugioh to knowing a lot about random facts about Yugioh but still knowing absolutely nothing at all just like Socrates.

And here’s that shot of Marik for y’alls anime scene redraws, knock yourself out.

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTER LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 9

oh goody!

well this is it. the Date Chapter. the chapter, in which, the Date happens. lowkey im so fucking hype for this stupid goddamn chapter AAAAAAAAAAAA this is when the sexy got kicked up about seven notches and i know its gonna be a fucking twenty from here on out so LETS GO LESBIANS LETS GO

“Is this your date, Ms. Fall?” he asked.

Cinder didn’t look away from Glynda. “Mhm.”

STRAIGHT OUT OF THE GODDAMN GATE WE DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A SECOND TO EVEN GATHER OURSELVES JUST STRAIGHT UP HUH!!!!!!!!! ‘is this your date’ im legally dead

What the fuck.

already im fucking THRIVING im so glad this chapter’s mood got encapsulated within the first ten seconds and im definitely gonna have to re-read this chapter for the full unannotated experience OOOOOOOOOH MY GOD IM SO READY

Glynda’s thoughts ricocheted inside her head like coins left in a dryer. A part of her couldn’t understand what was happening and disengaged. The rest of her, grasping for purchase in all this, reasoned that going with Cinder was better than staying here confused, alone, and utterly displaced.

glynda ‘i aint ever had a gf before’ goodwitch at her PEAK right here. like GOD shes gone from ‘cinder’s trying to murder me’ to ‘cinder just plopped me right into a date’ like CINDER. CINDER YR CHANGING GEARS SO FAST. YOU DIDNT EVEN SEND FLOWERS OR ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

is it because shes a u-haul lesbian or

Higher, Glynda realized the dress itself was backless, revealing the black tattoo she’d seen so often before, perfectly centered between sharp shoulder blades.

this gay energy is BONKERS, quite frankly??????? where did cinder get her dress from? why does she have it? did she buy it just for this fuckery? or will she pull the ‘i just had a this lil number laying around’ line????????? does she wanna seduce glynda to death?????? was this PLANNED OR DID SHE JUST DECIDE SHE WANTED A DATE AND WTH LIFE REALLY IS SHORT ON REMNANT THESE DAYS?????????? cinder fall please explain your workings to the class

maybe Glynda wasn’t the only one who’d become adept at reading her opponent.

👏 when 👏 will 👏 they 👏 kiss 👏 already 👏👏👏👏

me: this is a slowburn also me: if u assholes dont give me this in the next ten seconds-

“Unarmed? As if you could be so helpless.”

cinder’s style of flirting is just. commentating on a person’s deadliness. that’s IT it’s the only TRICK SHE HAS and its working, is the thing,

im reading the description of the table and remembering the shitpost and oh my god i have to draw this???? hell IS real!!!!!! COULDNT YALL JUST TOSS EM IN A PLAIN BOX,

Cinder eyed her from her bastion of dark cushions,

cinder, ass-deep in cushions: this is peak cuddle territory come and join me

Cinder, for her part, seemed delighted Glynda had noticed. Touching the pendant more gently than Glynda might have ever thought her capable of, Cinder said,  “Yours? You didn’t seem to mind parting with it.”

im still deeply enjoying this powermove the novelty NEVER wears off (and at risk of light spoilers i do enjoy its place in this story 👀)

Cinder let the necklace drop, settling against the swell of her bust once more,

/lightly coughs 👀👀👀

im losing my MIND at how gay this bit is i physically cannot HANDLE IT and if they even describe the meal once im gonna pop off cause i am. SO HUNGRY RN. AAAAAAAAAAAA

Cinder indicated a dish of lamb and vegetables, served on a bed of rice and drizzled in some sort of sauce.

SRY THIS ISNT GAY BUT OH MY GOD IM SO HUNGRY I WANNA E A T I T THAT SOUNDS SO GOOD UGHGHGHGHGHGH WHY DID THIS CHAPTER HAVE TO BE TODAY OF ALL THE DAYS,

Glynda cleared her throat, working out: “The Grimm.”

like. GOD WE KNOW GLYNDA IS JUST SO FUNCTIONALLY BAD AT CONVERSATION BUT OF ALL THE THINGS glynda please just. just. stop thinking abt her sexy tattoos for a fifth of a second,

“You can control them.” A sedate blink. For all the world, Glynda might have just commented on the weather.

which is a faux pas for a date!!!!!!!!!!! at least tell her the DRESS IS SEXY WE ALL KNO WHATS WHAT YR THINKIN ABT

Glancing down as though it were being pointed out to her for the first time, Cinder shrugged and adjusted the end of the glove a little higher on her bicep. “And?” 

a quick aside im enjoying how like... visually expressive cinder is in this remaster! i can see her facial expressions and her motions really clearly in my mind’s eye which is a fun little boon if only because i have to redraw this nonsense hjsgdfjhfksgd but cinder’s got a Good Face this time around! A QUALITY FACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You should know by now, there’s something about you that’s simply irresistible to Grimm.”

HERE COMES THE PLOT (and a single surviving line so far... this one sentence has survived all the world could throw at it... we stan)

Cinder straightened, and Glynda saw that this was what she’d been waiting for.

“It isn’t every day the great Glynda Goodwitch kneels before her adversary, is it?”

HELLO??????????????????????????? WHATS THIS WORDING????????? honestly tho for a second i thought she meant like. quite literally and i thought id missed some PROPER SHIT RIGHT THERE BUT YEAH WTH!!!!!!! C I N D E R

“You cheated. You can’t beat me on your own.”

yes glynda we gathered that yr a top

“Really, Glynda? Poison?” she sneered, something like offense simmering in her expression. “After all this?”

looks at the camera

anyway,

god im literally losing grasp of words to say because theres such a charged mood in this scene............. theyre brushing fingers............ trading jabs.......... im slurpin it up babey!!!!!!!! this rly is the BEST remaster of this whole scene it DESERVES this wordcount!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Beat you,” Cinder corrected. “And call it a point of pride.”

yes cinder we gathered yr a brat,

this dynamic is why this fic is so fuckign good when will winter have a swift return to add even more fuckery to this wild ride

Then, with a heavy-lidded look, Cinder found Glynda’s hand between them, the touch so sudden and daring that Glynda flinched. The fabric of those gloves was smooth against Glynda’s flesh, and for all that cruelty had marked every other instance of contact between them, Cinder was surprisingly gentle.

whomp there go my nuts

WHAT IS THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHO MADE THE EXECUTIVE CHOICE TO ADD THIS LINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO???????????? im losing my BRAINCELLS

What she wasn’t ready for was for Cinder to guide her hand to her own throat and hold it there.

THERE IS IT THERE’S THE KINK IT’S BEEN SPOTTED

oh my GOD what even IS THIS WHO ADDED THIS SECTION WHO ALLOWED THIS TO COME TO P A S S WHAT THE FUCK EVEN IS RN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO????????? HEWWO??????????

Now… Now Cinder interested her.

tbh how can i liveblog this? what commentary can i POSSIBLY add that we arent already all THINKING. we just launched into a level of hell so deep that lucifers gonna have to pull some goddamn tricks to follow us down here!!!!!!!!!! WHAT IS THIS SCENE! THIS MOMENT! IM SCREAMING

Glynda mirrored the expression back at him, and finally, he coughed, not making strong eye contact with either of them. He set their plate before them and hurried out without so much as a check-in.

i just KNEW that was gonna happen JHGDSFGJHKSDF he was gonna walk in on SMTHNG but i didnt think itd be CINDER’S CHOKING KINK,

okay i took a break and ate my weight in roast chicken and we’re back babey

Almost nervously, her fingers carded through her own dark hair, and there, among the locks, Glynda spotted a glimpse of something white, structured and ridged.

AND I AM INSTANTLY KNOCKED BACK UPON MY ASS 👈W👈H😨A👈T👈

It was easier to ignore the rest of it—whatever it was.

glynda you are a fool and a moron im withering into DUST

On no level had she expected those to be Glynda’s words.

then what... did she expect... well probably -- and rightly so -- ‘bitch WHAT ARE THOSE’ TBH

wait sorry i have to jump back because i forgot customary fingerguns on the most brazen bit of Shit yet:

Cinder was occupying herself with something else: the head of a dragon, perched over the door and staring down at the two of them with red, glossy eyes.

👈👈👈😎👈👈👈

okay BACK TO THE FIC

Fangs snapped together around the word.

aka back to me horni

/chanting TEETH! TEETH! TE

okay but the reason i doubled back to catch that fingergun is because we’re getting ass-deep into plot now!!!!!!!!!!! WITCHES AND DRAGONS BABEY......... HERE’S WHAT OFFAL HUNT IS ALL ABT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i cant rly drop more fingerguns than that because any astute reader will start realising the dots im shouting abt and honestly half the fun of this fic is the ride so >:3c

“Funny. I was sure he would have told you.”

that blow was so low i think cinder hit the concrete with that one

oh god theyre gonna get to the bit and i-

“Is that what all of this has been about? You called me here to remind me that I'm autistic?”

/SCREAMS

The words were delivered firmly, calmly, but Cinder’s response was the opposite, sudden upheaval seizing her. Her expression opened in something akin to panic. “Wh—no? What? No! That's not what I—”

/SCREAMS

oh my GOD CINDER YOU HAVE FUCKED UP LEGENDARILY!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD SHE WAS FELL ASS-FIRST ONTO A LANDMINE OH MY GOD

offal hunt v1 cinder: im totally in control and im playing glynda every step of the way

offal hunt v2 cinder: OH JESUS OH FUCK OH NO THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT-

Cinder seemed genuinely stressed now, speaking quicker as though trying to bury the last sixty seconds.

i knew this remaster would have sections that would blow me away but this bit really took the fcuking cake DGHSJFSJHFDG holy SHIT this is AMAZING

It was difficult to tell in the low light, but if Glynda wasn't mistaken, there was a bright flush of embarrassment coloring Cinder’s cheeks.

this is SUCH prime content hey remember in one of the early liveblogs that cinder would descend into full dork? WELL THE DESCENT CAME EARLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! /pops bottles

“Cinder.” There was a very real line of threat in Glynda’s tone. “Don’t.”

oh this whole scene just keeps getting better i am LOVING this dynamic now!!!!!!! before it was all pretty one-sided so having the conversation rock back and forth is 👌👌👌

That Witch soul of yours—it was designed to void out everything but the prey before you. To be numb to all human emotion. To focus on the hunt and nothing else.

finally the fruit of 50% of my fingerguns COMES TO LIGHT!!!!!!!!!!! PLOT PLOT PLOT

“This is bullshit.” Jabbing an accusing finger at Cinder, Glynda said, “You’re a liar. You’re a criminal!”

i LOVE glyndas pottymouth in this its such a good like... change from her being strict and formal and teachery and now shes full on gremlin huntress hell YES BABY!!!!!!!!!! GO OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“There’s all kinds of things I bet he never told you.” Cinder continued. “Did you know he was close to your predecessor? The Witch who came before you—they were inseparable.”

SRY IM LIKE STRUGGLIN TO COMMENTATE because so much of this like. speaking as an Old-Ass Reader this is like. a LOT! A LOT HAS CHANGED and yet,,,, stayed the same,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, yall kids WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL CHAPTER LIKE................ 15 FOR THIS SHIT (but like. chapter 15 was different because this chapter used to be like chapter 7? so now everythings moved along so chapter 15 doesnt sound that impressive but trust me it was a different fic back then)

When they fell away, burnt and ruined, she could see Cinder’s bare arms for the first time. The red lines drawn across her skin sloped down the entire length of her arms, circling her elbows, carved into her wrists. They ended right at her hands, ensuring any long-sleeved garment would hide them. Every covered inch of her was filled like a canvas, like abstract art.

lets pause the fight scene for glynda to be gay!!!!! god im. okay look i said this earlier but im so glad we have more cinder like this tbh. the first version was rly lacking w/ cinder content until late-game when the plot sorta. got itself going? but now we’re eye-deep in this content i LOVE cinder i love this WEIRDO who is a HUGE LOSER and IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM LOVE HER SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And Glynda could not dispel the fear that she had been telling the truth.

and after committing Some Amount In Damages, we’re at the end of the chapter!

okay so i really enjoyed this version SO MUCH MORE. everything abt it was polished and worked together so much better and it really needed the space to breathe in its own chapter. its been horny, gay, intense, hilarious, and way more in one chapter and its SO good this really is PEAK offal hunt!!!!!!!!!!!! good job diesel and kc but im still going to murder you both,

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, LEO! You’ve been accepted for the role of PARIS with an approved FC change to JI CHANG WOOK. Admin Jen: Wow, I literally have to stifle the urge to keysmash my way through this note because THAT is how over the moon I am about your application, Leo! Your analysis of Priam was so intricate and it touched on various nuances in his character that I was very excited to see people explore and peel apart - his moral compass, his honor, his purpose, and most importantly, his masks. The interview was quite riveting to read and I adored how prominently your portrayal of him shone in the narrative. I particularly enjoyed observing his mannerisms and how they contrasted with his thought process but in general, the interview was full to the brim with interesting details to observe and inspect. As soon as I finished reading, I was certain that you would be perfect for Priam. I can’t wait to see him on the dash! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Leo.

Age | 18, though I still feel like a prepubescent teen oops.

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I’d give myself a seven outta’ ten for activity levels.

Timezone | ‘m in France, so the timezones might be wonky.

Current/Past RP Accounts | [ x ]

In Character

Character | PARIS ; If possible, I’d like to use Xavier Serrano or Ji Chang Wook. [clutching fcs and sobbing as they spill over my hands.]

What drew you to this character? | “… the world in which he was a child was starkly black and white.” This, I feel, reveals the crux of the matter: that Priam Taravella, born with steel fused into his spine and rigidity formed into his very being, is now such a man of metamorphosis. And, yet, his core hasn’t changed at all. Something like there is enough in me to swallow the world and this body of mine can scarcely contain this hunger would be an apt description for the void that lingers in him. No ambition? What a lie. The ant who dreams of becoming a lion is merely a dreamer of impossibility, but the lion who dreams of becoming a king? There’s the ambition that his family refused to see in him. Priam Taravella was always a man with his feet rooted to the earth and his eyes fixed upon the horizon line because there’s where the gold glitters. Nothing is impossible, for he simply doesn’t deign to dream of impossibility. And, yet, his family mocked him for this and gave him the cold shoulder simply for daring to dream of things tangible. Maybe he cared about this, once upon a time, but nowadays he scoffs at the past, preferring to keep his sights on the present, and oh, there’s simply nothing like it.

There’s this, as well. “Verona’s underworld has made him apathetic towards most things but he has no tolerance for men without honor.” Oh, Priam. In a world where people may say that the sky is green and the water purple without an inflection of remorse, his honor brings such an interesting dimension to his character. He is, for all intents and purposes, a man who still adheres to the ‘black and white’ view of his youth; despite his hollow core, despite the blood that runs from his hands, despite the boundless ambition that serves as a never-ending bloodhound, he still places honor as something important to him, something that’s integral to his very being. And, isn’t this a paradox? In order to move up in the underworld, one must draw their lines of morality in sand, to be washed away and redrawn with every situation that follows. And, yet, Priam’s rigidity doesn’t allow for him to do this: there are some lines that he would never cross, even given the pros and cons of such an action.

He is a man of honor, and aren’t honor and glory both one and the same? Many would beg to differ, but the truth in his mind is the truth of the world. God made man in the image of Himself, the humanists would say, and isn’t this the primary facet of life in a search for unending glory? Verona is a city of divinity; a god without glory is no god at all. Likewise, a man without honor isn’t even worth a single good-natured thought. I think this makes him so very interesting, that in his rigidity and in his purpose, he sees himself as an honor-bound man. Are the three mutually bound? Is he truly a man of honor?

Is it even possible for a man with boundless ambition, crown tilted upon his head and smile slanted across his mouth, to be a man of honor?

(priam, what happens when you end your search? could the void inside of you ever be satiated?)

Which, speaking of, is such a fascinating concept. The void inside of him can be for many things, but the fact that Juliana is the first (and perhaps the only) person who has ever made him feel as if he belonged hints towards a boy who was starved of affection. Yes, he has potential, he knows that he has potential, but what I find interesting is that the Taravella name means something to him. It’s a shackle that he bears with his head held high; he is a boy of only twenty-three, and I think that this bears emphasis, that he is twenty-three and already believes that the only true part of his identity is his name. And, yet, at this age he already takes for granted that love and that sense of belonging are worth something. These are concepts that are not given freely; if he’s not useful then he isn’t worth being loved. This concept is found again in the way that he believes that his name might be the only thing that allows him to belong.

And the only way he would be loved is if he put on the mask. This, in turn, reminds me of a quote: “There was no one in him; behind his face (which even through the bad paintings of those times resembles no other) and his words, which were copious, fantastic, and stormy, there was only a bit of coldness, a dream dreamt by no one.” There’s something in this that causes one to wonder: where does the mask end and the man begin? Who is he, underneath the habits and personas that he had to adopt in order to realize his ambitions? Iago claims “I am not what I am,” and is this, too, true for Priam?

God, he’s just such a fascinating character, wow, and I could go on and on and on. I’ll leave you with this last quote: “History adds that before or after dying he found himself in the presence of God and told him: ‘I who have been so many men in vain want to be one and myself.’”

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | I really want him to be submerged into a situation where he must lose his sense of purpose or honor-bound duty or even a situation where he has to redraw his lines of morality in order to feed his ambition. The simple anguish in the fact that he must be, perhaps, somewhat like the men he hates, those men of no honor and of no purpose, would be absolutely lovely. Would he rationalize it to himself? Would he choose honor over ambition or vice versa? In a world that seems to be doing its damned hardest to kill them all, what could he possibly choose?

Why does he hate Boris so much? Is it simply because he can’t stand his ways? Is it truly because the Kovrov man reeks of shameless disloyalty? Or is it because he could see himself in the way he hungers for something more than the lot he was given in life? (maybe it’s because he knows, somehow, that this is the man he could become, that this might be the man he is.) I’d love to explore this.

Oh, Juliana. Dearly beloved, my tender heart, mio tesoro. In a man who’s more steel than flesh, she’s the tenderness of his childhood days in an era void of softness. Maybe this isn’t love—something about her eyes, her smile, the lilt of her voice—but it’s close enough. It’s good enough. (or so he hopes.) And, yeah, she makes him want to believe in the concept of loving and being loved. But, God, fuck, in a world such as this, any hint of tenderness is a hint of weakness. And Priam Taravella has long had enough of being weak. God, there’s so much space for nuance here. Does he truly love her or is it just the knowledge that they know so much about each other? Oh, and there’s this: in those moments of tenderness, in those moments when he’s pressing gentle lips to her forehead and folding his fingers over her hand, is he still acting?

And, also, we cannot forget about this: is he even able to discover himself underneath those layers and layers of masks? We can see that his sense of honor is a way that allows him to hold onto something even through the switching of personas, but isn’t there something more than simply that in a person?

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Oh, God yes. The more tragic the death, the better.

In Depth

Priam, with a sickly-sweet taste sitting on the root of his tongue and fingers digging into the blankets, wakes up underneath someone else’s sheets at ass-o'clock in the morning. It’s slightly sticky. His mouth pulls into a slight grimace, lashes feathering across the slant of his eyes as he breathes out a longer breath than usual, but the glint in his gaze is devoid of any natural feeling save for a vague sensation of apathy.

There’s a flash of what might be faint amusement as he flicks a glance towards the remnants of last night—scattered items of clothing, the lingering scent of sex, the marks on his companion’s skin—even as he ruffles his fingers through his dark curls, languidly arching his back into a stretch. The arm slung around his waist tightens with his motion before relaxing—Priam carelessly curls his grip around the appendage and tosses it away from him and towards its owner—and there’s a grunt as the man wakes up, lounging in bed and watching lazily as Priam retrieves his pants. “Leaving so soon?” husked out from sleep-ridden vocal chords.

There’s a pause as Priam tilts his head back, flicking an idle glance towards the speaker. Already, the apathy in his gaze had vanished, leaving behind only gentle amusement and a form of satisfied grace. His mouth tilts into a grin. “Mm,” all movement and indulgence as the sound of a zipper rips through the 3am aftermath, “I’d love to stay, mi amor, but I have work in the morning.” The slant of his mouth is a finely crafted thing—God, he’s too tired for this right now, something screams in him, but his every action is mechanically precise—as he quirks his lips upwards towards the other man, roguish charm in the echo of his gesture. Priam Taravella has a reputation to uphold and God forbid he ever forget about those layers of masks weighing upon him like Atlas’ skies.

(Sometimes, he’s frightened by his own capacity for all of this. It comes easily, now, like habit. Other times, he gazes at himself in the mirror and tells himself something like i built myself from the ground up and this is the result of my pride. It’s a delicate balance between irony and smug self-satisfaction.)

Despite the annoyance he holds for clingy lovers—simply the fact that he has had to answer tedious questions in the morning annoys him—his lovely features light up into that charismatic feeling of promise.

(When he’s feeling particularly ironic, he calls it smile number thirty-five where the corners of his lips are tilted at a precise angle of 68 degrees, teeth showing ever-so-slightly and eyes softening. It imbues a feeling of earnestness, as can be seen from all the times he’s practiced in front of the mirror when he was younger.)

“You must be tired,” and there’s that artificial flare of heat that seeps through his gaze as he, seemingly reluctantly, drags his attention from the lines of the other man’s body after lingering upon where the drape of the sheets hid the contours of the man’s lower abdomen. He flicks his glance away after precisely three heartbeats of time, knowing that this gesture was sufficient enough to allay all concerns. “Rest.” He stands. There’s a brief bit of pause when he catches a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby mirror—sometimes he thinks that the day when he can’t even recognize himself is near—though the movement seems more like it’s a hesitation to leave. “I’ll see you around,” lying through his teeth with a smile of no substance.

“Will I see you at your favorite place?” exhaled from behind him as his fingers linger at the nape of his collar. Inch by inch, he drags his sleeves up over the breadth of his forearms, folding them below his elbow with the tuck of a button.

“My favorite place?” echoed, though his motions never cease. He refrains from looking back at the other man, knowing that the microsecond of disdainful amusement would show in the curve of his mouth. “Yes, of course,” knowing, too, that favorite hardly means favored.

“The Hotel Emilia?” again, from behind him, and there’s a note of expectation that’s laden within the drowsy voice. Priam simply abhors the expectation that this man has of him and his gaze grows dark, though there’s a careful regard as to how the slope of his shoulders tenses; simply put, he doesn’t let himself do anything except to retain movement in the form of satiated grace.

“You caught me,” a deep timbre laced with fond laughter. The Hotel Emilia? A lie that he’d concocted once he saw the interested flicker of the other man’s lashes on the afternoon of the day before, sunlight streaming in from stained-glass windows and lingering upon handsome features. Something to arouse sensation; oh, the Taravella scion has a weary side, a human side, and wouldn’t onlookers feel honored for the ability to see that soft smile upon Priam’s face?

He knows very well that humans are more likely to worship perfect idols, but that growing close to people requires various imperfections. (He has those in spades.)

Priam slips on his gloves, flexing his fingers against the cool fabric, and takes long strides to the exit of the house. Once he’s graced by the dusk, gentle breezes tugging at dark curls and nipping lightly at his nose, a faint smile slants across his mouth before being obscured by a brighter grin of greeting—still as hollow as ever—towards the few who are still on the streets.

A woman wanders up to him, fingers digging into her pockets and ruby-red lips tilted into a sly grin. “Priam Taravella,” voice low and suggestive, “exiting a random house in the early morning. I wonder, is this something you do every day?” Her gaze flicks up and down, blatantly admiring the way his clothes fit to his body.

He snorts, a sort of glacial coldness readily receding from the shallow depths of his eyes at the interception, even though he gives into the indulgence of tapping his fingers against his thigh once in a subtle show of irritation. “It could be,” allowing a slow, flirtatious grin to cross his mouth, “Miss?”

“Not important,” airily waving her hand. She rocks back and forth on her heels, eyes bright as she peers at him. “What do you do every day, then, Taravella?” The mockery in her voice is evident, as is the almost-envious idolization in her gaze.

He feigns a glance at his watch and watches as the woman’s eyes lingers on his exposed wrist. A Patek Philippe, circa 1997, and as expected, she involuntarily sucks in a breath. Priam doesn’t allow his mouth to twist into an expression of indulgent disdain, but it’s a near thing. “I eat breakfast,” drawled dryly, “just as you do, I’d assume.”

A wry grin slips onto his features like something that belongs. “Then, I get to work. Afterwards, I might go for a drink or two, maybe to an opera or an art exhibition, and then I attempt to buy presents for my beloved fiancée.” He lowers his voice, lashes feathering across the slant of his eyes in an artful show of candor and loving laughter, as if the simple thought of Juliana was enough to bring him joy, “Between you and me, the only reason I’m not sleeping on the couch every night is because of this.”

“Do you buy her flowers?” eager curiosity.

He makes as if to reply, but then he places a finger to his mouth. “Some things are meant to be a secret,” tucking his hands into his pockets and nodding at her. “Have a good day.”

God, it’s like he tasted something sour. He’s barely crossed a street before his gaze flickers towards another hovering figure, watching as they attempt to watch him. It’s almost four in the morning and still he is besieged with flies from all sides. Best to get this over with.

Priam beckons, gentle laughter in his eyes. “You have a question for me?” low and soothing. They yelp, almost scurrying off, before they think better of it and sheepishly wander closer.

“Y-yeah,” a soft whisper. “I just- I, uh, I-”

He watches them patiently, even though faint exasperation is bubbling up from the depths of his chest. “Mm?” prompting them with a noise that slicks from the back of his throat, though the smile tilted upon his lips hardly budges.

“I-” They take a deep breath, as if steeling themselves, “I just- You know,” they twitch their fingers and Priam’s eyes narrow towards the motion before flickering towards the bulge underneath their coat, near the side of their waist. He makes some effort to relax his musculature even further into a state of apparent languidness. “The war,” blurted out as they fidget.

Oh. Such an ugly concept. “What about it?” Subtly, he directs them both towards a nearby alleyway, an easy grin donned upon his lips as he clasps their shoulder.

“I- I feel so useless, not being able to do anything,” absently fisting their hands, “do you think I should join? At least then I’d be able to play a part.”

“I honestly can’t profess any experience with the war,” a blatant lie, not even twitching though the word drags itself tastelessly from his tongue, “but I believe in my fiancée and in the inherent righteousness of my betrothed’s family.” Conviction is rife in his voice and in the shift of his gaze as he continues, “This will end, soon,” soothing the other—oh, there’s something in his eyes that unfurls like twin flames, something that gives credence to the lilt of his voice and the slant of his mouth—“and the winner will be in the right.”

“Until then,” gently placing a knuckle underneath their chin and tilting their gaze upwards, towards the looming silhouette of a grand church, “pray.”

Of course, he himself knows better than to pray to other gods.

headcanons:

ok so picture this: you take for granted that the smile slanted across daddy’s mouth is because you did well in school. you take for granted that mom’s words of adoration are because you’ve won some competition or the other. love’s something that isn’t yours to keep. and yeah, yeah of course he coulda’ been worse off. he coulda’ been begging in the streets or barely surviving or thrown into some sorta’ gimmick that he couldn’t have left, but there’s this. there’s this and then there’s those moments when he looks at the people who don’t wear crowns—he’s just a boy and this crown is too heavy for him to bear—and watches their fingers curl around their parents’ hands and watches their smiles—before he knows it, he’s learned how to curve his lips in the exact same way because wasn’t this called happiness?—and he wants.

took him years to realize that this wasn’t for him, but he’s still left wanting.

baby you know the closest you’ll ever get to god is in a cemetery and, oh, he’s visited many. at first, it was the death of a beloved pet. nowadays, it’s to somehow atone for all the sins he’s ever carried, ‘cos god knows he can’t go to a confessional. the dead, at least, tell no tales.

he totally brings back tons of presents for juliana and those he calls friends from his business trips 'nd stuff

okay okay okay hear me out; he’s totally got his fingers in all sorts of pies after leaving his family’s legacy behind. there was something in him that wanted recognition for himself, rather than for his name, and so he’s a fairly well known philanthropist and semi-political figure within the city. semi, as he doesn’t hold a specific position but he’s still rather visible. he also organizes fundraisers and galas and all those kindsa’ parties. whatever it takes for him to be known 'cos it’s something like yeah, i’m gonna’ take the highest position you know and force you to look at me without this goddamn legacy

prolly has a buncha’ hidey-holes. evil lairs. nah, but he does have places within the city where he can pretend, at least for the moment, that he’s just priam. just priam taravella ('cos yeah, even now his family’s name means something to him) on a rooftop and watching the stars. god knows if he didn’t have these places, he’d lose himself even faster

also a tsundere asshole. doesn’t act like it, usually, and it’s easy for him to smile and say stuff he doesn’t mean, but when he does mean something, something that’s either fuckign sappy or really heartfelt, it’d take a miracle for him to admit to it

twenty-three y/o dork, actually, despite all the airs he puts on. juliana knows.

v’ v’ v’ flirtatious. knows he’s pretty. knows how to use it.

DO NOT get into a drinking contest with this boi cos he will either get piss-drunk and say he’s not or you’ll get shitfaced drunk

prolly goes to the fighting ring ngl when he’s feeling too annoyed by the state of the world 'cos he’s still that same stubborn priam, jus dressed up prettier

is??? actually touch-starved like woah

tldr; doesn’t know how to be human 'cos no affection was given to him when he was younger and wow no wonder he’s kinda’ sorta’ feral but he’s learned how to put on masks THEREFORE aggravating the problem rather than solving it

priam aka mister 'ive got 99 problems but acting ain’t one of them’

[pyro-flug]

Rest, Regret, and Recovery Beds Part 8

Part 1- Part 2- Part 3- Part 4- Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 (This ones kinda long so I’m putting a keep reading in it)

It only took another week for Black Hat to fully recovery. Well, “fully recovered” was the way he was wording it, but the way that he still leaned heavily to one side, and the rattling of his breath after too much exertion told another story. Flug had checked for himself that the chest and facial wounds had sealed back up before even allowing the eldritch to go without bandages. The slight discoloration of Black Hat’s skin where the injuries had been were odd though.  

Dementia was walking on both legs two weeks after that. She had never been more grateful for her healing factor as she ran leg strengthening exercises with Flug. She had been right about getting back to her old self again; once the cast was off she had latched onto the nearest wall and scrambled up into the vent just so she could see Flug glare at her disapprovingly.

Flug took the longest to recover. Three bullets to the gut were hard on his body, especially with the fear of internal rupturing. After a scare where such a thing had happened Dementia and Black Hat made sure to keep an eye on him. Too many near death experiences really left the whole company on edge...

                                             * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It happened in the middle of the night. Flug woke Black Hat up  after making noise in the bathroom and complaining of a stomach ache. He was out of bed and was heading for the door when he was nearly swept off his feet by a wave of dizziness. Then there was a slam as his shoulder connected with the wall near the door.

Black hat, having heard the painful sound, got up and went to Flug’s side to make sure he was okay.

“I’m fine, I think I just need something to drink,” Flug said quietly. He pushed off the wall and stumbled forward, his fingers latching onto the doorframe instead. Flug’s breath hitched, then he fell into a coughing fit. The red that dripped onto the carpet from Flug’s mouth caused Black Hat to freeze. His dream from a few weeks ago came back to him and he drew away from the doctor for a moment.

Flug stared at the blood on his hand for only a few seconds before he was twisting his fingers into the lapel of Black Hat’s pyjama shirt.

“Get me to lab right now!” he hissed out between clenched teeth. Black Hat broke out of his trance, snatched the smaller man up in his arms, and took off down the corridor. His feet pounded down the stairs, the odd, creaky boards shrieking shrilly with the haste and weight of the eldritch. Once he burst through the doors to the lab, he rushed over to the medical beds and set Flug down on one of them.

The doctor’s eyes were unfocused as he reached down to lift the hem of his shirt. It  looked like someone had spilt ink underneath Flug’s skin; a nasty blue purple color was spreading outward from the right side of his abdomen.

“Internal bleeding,” Flug muttered vaguely. Then he snapped back into focus and he pointed at a machine a few feet away. “Get the Sonograph over here now!”

“What will that do for you!” Black Hat snapped. “All it can do is show us where-”

“Shut up for a moment and trust me! I’ve made some modifications in the past few weeks, and if this works it’s gonna save my life, so just listen!!!” Black Hat’s teeth clacked together as he shut his mouth from its ready-to-argue position.

“Fine!” he growled out. Then he grabbed the computer like station and dragged it over on it’s tiny wheels. As soon as it was close enough, Flug was leaning over the desk part and pushing buttons on the console.

His breath was coming out in gasps and heaves now, and his hands had a tremor going through them. As Flug pulled out the transducer probe and set it against his stomach he hissed at the tenderness of his skin.

“If I pass out before this is done I’m going to need you to hold it in place and let it finish before you inject me with this.” The doctor handed Black Hat a small syringe and then pushed another button on the screen. The way Flug seized up and his face contorted in agony almost caused the eldritch to drop the needle. “15 seconds...” Flug grit out, then his eyes rolled back and he started to tip back.

At this point, Black Hat’s anger had dissipated, leaving him with an uncomfortable need to be doing anything but standing here. When Flug began to pass out he almost froze up again, unsure of what to do, but thankfully his body seemed to be 5 steps ahead of his brain. Tendrils shot out of his back to catch and then cradle the doctor. Then they lowered Flug back into the bed, gently, while his hand moved to grab the transducer and hold it in place. Flug had said 15 seconds before passing out, so Black Hat figured he must have been referring to how long he had to hold the probe still. Those seconds passed terribly slow.

Once time was up, he hoped he had assumed correctly and put the transducer aside. Then he took the syringe, gave it a good tap to rid it of air bubbles, and injected it into Flug’s arm. A minute later the doctor was opening bleary eyes. He gave a pained groan when he attempted to sit up, so Black Hat put a hand on his chest to keep him down.

“Did it work?” Flug mumbled

“You can’t tell if it worked!?” Black Hat’s anger was back.

“Well I mean it doesn't look like I’m still bleeding, but the non-invasive surgery I just performed was experimental only.” Black hat resisted the urge to punch something violently. “But, it appears to have worked. Now I just need to-” he was trying to sit up again, and Black Hat, once again, pushed him down.

“What do you need,” The eldritch growled.

“Well, I was going to grab the Transducer again and then one of my blood bags from the fridge over there. I need to get rid of this old blood before it causes damage and then get new stuff in my veins.” Black Hat handed him the probe and stalked off towards the fridge. Inside were a few different bags of red blood, and he even saw 2 bags of his own greenish blue blood. At this he glanced over his shoulder with a raised brow. Flug looked over and saw him staring, then said,

“Yes, those are yours, and no I didn’t take them for “evil purposes” you just don't remember when I took them because it was a while ago and you had been very distracted that day.” He took a pause and  made a face. “You're blood doesn't deteriorate, so it stores indefinitely, and I only have it in case of emergencies. In fact, I have everyone's blood in case of emergencies.” Then his voice dropped into a grumble. “Of course, I’m the only one who has to redraw every 6 weeks or find a donor to steal from.”

Black hat still had his eyebrow raised but he turned back to the fridge and picked up one of the bags. He heard Flug shout that his were labeled with his name, so Black Hat put down the one he was holding and picked up another that said ‘Flug.’ Then he closed the door and walked back over to the doctor to set up the transfusion.

The inky color was slowly disappearing from under Flug’s skin. As new blood entered his system the life returned to his cheeks, and he took a deep breath. Black hat stood off to the side and avoided looking at the scientist.

“Black Hat...” Flug’s voice held that knowing tone. The eldritch crossed his arms and the corner of his mouth lifted in a sneer. “What’s on your mind?”

As Flug has suspected, after Black Hat had healed he went back to his old self- he was still better at expressing himself than he used to be but he still was holding back a lot, and he didn't always say what he needed to. The emotional vulnerability that had come with injury had dissipated, but Flug knew that the emotions themselves were still in there.

“Talk to me,” Flug said.

Black Hat sighed and finally met his eyes. Then he muttered something under his breath so that Flug couldn’t quite catch it.

“What was that, sir?”

“I said-” and he trailed off again.

“Black hat, please just-”

“I SAID YOU'RE TOO FRAGILE!” The eldritch shouted. Flug immediately sat up despite the tentacle that shot out of Black Hat’s back to push him back down. His hand held the wiggling black mass as he then used it to yank Black Hat closer.

“Okay, look, I may be more prone to injury, and I may take longer to recovery from said injuries, but I am NOT fragile.” Flug stated firmly. “I’m not some elder who’s bones could snap from a trip down the stairs, I just take time to heal from really bad injuries like gun shot wounds.”

“But the internal bleeding wasn’t part of-”

“Yes it was,I was tired and I accidentally fell in the bathroom and slammed my stomach onto the rim of the tub. That blunt force trauma probably ruptured several already weak blood vessels and caused the bleeding. Now that I’ve sealed them though they should be fine.” Black Hat was still frowning heavily.

“.... How did you seal them?”

“I heard about some experimental tech with using probes like that to produce targeted sources of extreme heat to seal off and reconnect blood vessels. It had only been tested on animals before but I was sure that with my intellect I could improve it and guarantee positive results. Which I have done, apparently.”

“Will it hold?”

“It will.” Slowly, Black Hat let his arms drop back to his sides. Then he sat down next to Flug and put and arm around him so that the doctor was leaning into his side.

“I just... “ Black Hat pulled a face of disgust. “Worry about you..”

“I know you do, sir, but you also have to realize that I’m stronger than you think I am, and I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing.” Then a yawn escaped the doctor’s mouth along with the last of his energy.

“...I’m working on it.”

“And that’s all I need to hear.” Flug pressed a kiss to Black Hat’s cheek and then wrapped his arms around the other’s torso.

Now that the crisis had been averted Flug was sleepy again. He sighed gently as Black Hat carefully readjusted his arms and then laid them both back on the bed. Flug muttered something that sounded vaguely like ‘I love you,sir’ and then he was out.

Black Hat watched the scientists face, so peaceful in sleep, and felt his chest ache. He just wanted his boyfriend to be safe and happy, but he didn't know how to express that without getting all mushy about it. Remembering all of the mushy, romantic stuff he had done in the past few weeks made him physically shudder. But... nobody was around right now, so Black Hat quickly double checked the room and then pressed a soft kiss to Flug’s forehead and whispered,

“I love you too, dumb-ass,” before he closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep as well.

Next ones up next Saturday! It might be the finale, but I’m not sure yet, gotta see how it turns out!

[revelingrexan]

Tags and stuuuufff

‘Eyo! Making a quick start to listing tags for my own reference, but making the post public so anyone can use ‘em to navigate my blogs. <3 (Adding links a bit at a time, too.) It’s late rn, so this’ll start (very) incomplete and I’ll add more in the future.

Also, some tags may not currently have any posts associated with them because the associated post is currently on queue, and I wanted to make a special tag for it and similar posts I may make or reblog in the future.

Sorted alphabetically. Tags may get removed or combined if I ever decide I’ve just got way too many and can’t reasonably keep track of them.

(Quick note to self: DON’T use bullet points for this extended list. They look clustered and gross with my blog theme, and using a double enter to space them out just spaces them out too much.)

* arthropod friends (reblogs) - Bugs and such! Good cuties. Or at least neato creatures. (More should be public in this tag eventually; there’s only two right now. My reblog queue stretches a couple months haha.) I’m actually a total insect/arthropod noob/newb so there may be some mis-categorized animals.

* art tips (reblogs) - Yeeup. Art tuts.

* ask answered - Peeps answer something I asked.

* beaitufl (main blog) (reblogs) - No typos here. Posts that are beautiful in a meme-like manner. I pronounce it “bay-aw-i-tuff-ull.” One of my fave tags tbh

* body horror or gore (reblogs) - As it says. NOT a trigger warning tag, though; it’s just for me, the posts that I think look especially cool with these themes. So, there may be some posts not tagged as such ‘cause, yes, I like them (I wouldn’t reblog them otherwise), but they don’t match the aesthetic I like with gore or body horror.

* christmas (reblogs) - Yeh

* cool art (reblogs)

* cool design (reblogs)

* cool fax (reblogs) - Cool facts.

* cussing (reblogs) - My only “warning” tag of any sort (at the moment?). I grew up in a weird family that was INCREDIBLY strict about swearing but lax on gore and violence and stuff, and I know other families that are similar, too, so this tag appeases myself, made for hypothetical younger-me and similar peeps looking at my blogs. But I use it way less than I should so

* cute (reblogs)

* cute buggies (reblogs) - Added much later than “cute” because gOOOSH @onenicebugperday is too wonderful and wholesome and also there are lots of cute insects anyway but I know a lot of people don’t find bugs cute so aaaaaaa

* [fandom] notable - Currently just have one “villainous notable” post (in my reblog queue while I’m making this post, iirc) but I’ll probably add more. Things that I think are especially neat or head canon-worthy.

-- villainous notable (reblogs) -- dracula notable

* faves (reblogs) - Self-explanatory <3

* funny (reblogs) - For tagging memes or funny fandom posts for fandoms I don’t post for often. If I post regularly for a fandom, the jokes and stuff won’t be labeled ‘cause I’d like the “funny” tag to be enjoyable to anyone, no matter their fandoms.

* halloween (reblogs)

* hand slipped (reblogs) - When someone says basically “whoops my hand slipped” on an art post because I love that energy. Posts with similar energy can get tagged with this, too, if I remember to do so.

* history (reblogs) - Old timey things and history-learning things. Only remembered this tag fairly recently so there’s not much on it.

* i answer

* keeper (reblogs) - Catch-all “I wanna find this later ‘cause it’s got cool or good info” post. Doesn’t fit with “reminder” ‘cause it’s not necessarily a reminder for myself on how to think or act or consider the world. Very possible there will still be quite a few posts with both “keeper” and “reminder” tags, to raise the chance I see the respective posts again. (I think I have one in my queue while making this post. Or I just like the idea and am adding it to the list for the future. Who knows lol)

* mood (reblogs) - Combined “relatable” and “relate” into this one tag. Yee.

* note (main blog) (reblogs) - I intend to have this tag usually be empty. Or at least not have much in it. It’s a “to-do” tag of sorts, but I’m casual about it and don’t worry if I don’t get to something. Might separate from “redraw possibility,” but who knows.

* note 2 (main blog) (reblogs) - For redraws or things I may want to animate in the future and similar. For sure not holding myself to anything, though. I just would like “note” to stay mostly empty. Removed “redraw possibility” as a tag and combined it with this.

* note done :3 (reblogs) - Finished a note task! I’m happy when I’m able to see I actually did stuff, like see task lists with things crossed off, so this is my equivalent. I’ve done at least a few more than what’s here ‘cause this was a tag I thought of probably a year+ after adding the “note” tags.

(Also!!! Holey MOLEY I know myself so well LOL. I forgot what my “I finished a note task” tag was, and my FIRST GUESSING SEARCH WAS CORRECT, LITTLE “:3″ EMOTICON AND ALL. I ONLY HAD ONE POST AT THE TIME TAGGED AS SUCH, AND I’D PROBABLY TAGGED IT MORE THAN A MONTH BEFORE. INCREDIBLE. I LOVE ME.)

* oh so they like like them (reblogs) - All ship stuff or stuff with people being together non-platonically. This is new (as of June 2021), so I gotta go back and tag stuff. Probably won’t find everything but that’s a’ight.

* oh that’s gay (reblogs) - GAE <3

* reblog (main blog) - For this blog since I don’t reblog much here anymore, other than gifs. Idk why I have it, exactly, but I like having it.

* reminder (main blog) (reblogs) - Reminders of things like “Hey, self, remember to not be a jerk,” “Oh crap, yeah, remember the world’s messed up about this,” or other similar things. (Different from “keeper”; “keeper” is more of a “misc. but notable” tag)

* sneks (reblogs) - snaaakes <3

* typos and stuff (reblogs) - Just to point out when I make mistakes, specifically mistakes I didn’t notice while submitting. I describe myself as a “recovering perfectionist,” so this is a silly “Heyo, reminder that mistakes get made. It’s all right <3” tag. (Usually there’s at least one mistake or aspect I’m unhappy with on each upload, but those are such a common part of life, they don’t need to be noted lol)

* villanos / villainous (main blog) (reblogs) - That exact tag, not #villainous or #villanos, but specifically “#villanos / villainous”: bilingual posts or posts where I translate Spanish Villainous content to English. (There might be some bilingual posts by other people tho :3)

Easter egg tags I only want to use impulsively and not with any particular organization:

* love love love (reblogs)

[until-theend-oftheline]

Silver Linings

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Clint x Reader (friendship)

Warnings: Mention of canon typical torture and violence. Fighting.

Square Filled: Craving their touch

Word Count: 1800ish

A/N: This one is written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan marvel mayhem challenge. My prompt is bolded in the text: “Life messes us up in so many ways, messes all of us right the hell up”

It also fills one of my squares for @marvelfluffbingo

It is my first time writing Bucky (or any of the characters really) so please judge kindly.

Thanks to the amazing, sweet and my expert on all things marvel @emilyevanston for betaing this for me.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Clint and Steve were walking down the halls of the Stark tower as Steve was catching Clint up on their latest mission. Everything had worked out in the end, but that didn’t mean there haven’t been a few kinks along the way. A young Siberian man from the village they had been trying to save from invasion had recognized Bucky as the man that had tortured and killed his parents when he was a boy. He had attacked, before Steve and Bucky had gotten the chance to reason with him, resulting in his death as he was caught in the crossfire between the Avengers and the invaders.

Needless to say, Bucky hadn’t taken it well and honestly Steve was worried about him. He had been quiet all the way back and the instant they had reached the Stark Tower he had disappeared into his room. Steve had breathed a sigh of relief when Y/N had arrived. Bucky had been a different person ever since he met her. Well maybe not different, but more like the Bucky he had once known; the boy he had grown up with. Steve had hoped that her presence would help him somehow, but now that he heard the loud voices carrying from the Bucky’s room and towards the kitchen, he regretted being so stupid. Bucky wasn’t the same. Y/N had never seen him like this before and Steve should have known better. He should have stopped her or at the very least warned her what she was walking into.

It was too late now though as the door to Bucky’s room opened and closed with a loud bang and Y/N stormed right past Clint and Steve without as much as acknowledging their presence.

“Oh boy,” Clint mumbled looking after the fuming woman before his eyes met with Steve’s. “As much as I would love to send you after her, you’d probably have better luck with grumpy down there,” Clint nodded towards Bucky’s room with a smile. Clint turned around and followed Y/N before Steve had a chance to scold him, but Clint still felt the bitchface Steve gave him on the back of his neck. It’s only effect was the smile on Clint’s face widening.

Truth be told Clint has angered his own wife more than once as he brought the baggage of their job home with him. As pissed as she had gotten, her love and affection hadn’t wavered and Clint saw the way Y/N looked at Bucky. He knew hers hadn’t either. She just didn’t understand. She was a nurse and a damn good woman, but their jobs were something else. How could anyone understand what it was like to have someone rob you of yourself? Have you kill for them without hesitation or remorse. The truth was that no one could understand. Not unless they lived it.

Clint took a deep breath as he spotted her in the small park behind the Tower. She was sitting on the grass with her legs pulled up under her as she watched the ebbs and flows of the fountain before her. She didn’t look angry. Just like Clint had expected the expression on her face was one of agony. Bucky’s pain hurt her because she loved him. She had gotten angry because he wouldn’t let her in. He wouldn’t let her help. Clint had seen the same reaction in Laura more than once when they first met. It had taken him years to let her in and even now somethings were still hard for him to share with her. He couldn't imagine what it was like for Bucky. Decades of torture and killing, of course, he was afraid to let her see the darkness.

“Hi? Mind if I sit?” Clint asked, with a small smile as she looked up at him. She didn’t say anything she just shook her head quietly. Clint felt bad for her, just like he did his own wife once in a while. He understood why Bucky tried to push her away even if he was making a mistake. He even knew that was the exact thing Steve was trying to make him see right now. Y/N wasn’t stupid she knew what kind of a man Bucky was and she knew who he had been in the past and who he had been forced to become. She knew all of it and she chose to stay. Clint knew the argument Steve would make because it was the only one Bucky would hear. Y/N had the right to make her own choice. She had the right to decide what she could and could not handle.

“I don’t need your pity,” she mumbled as Clint sat down and he couldn't help but smile.

“Good cause I don’t pity you,” he answered and her head snapped around to look at him in surprise. “You knew he was a mess when you met him and honestly I don’t think you are the kinda woman that wants to fix him either,” Clint gave her a small nudge with his shoulder and earned a smile.

“I’m not. All he has been through made him who he is now. I love who he is,” she answered truthfully before looking back to the rushing water. “I just wish he would let me in sometimes that’s all.”

“He will. In time,” Clint assured her. He couldn't be sure of course but he saw the way Bucky looked at her. He loved her and trusted her. Him redrawing at times didn’t have anything to do with her even if Clint knew Y/N probably didn’t see it like that.

“Y/N even if it wasn’t him some of the memories are still there. All of them are hiding deep down. It was still his hands that kill those people. He saw it all happen powerless to stop it,” Clint explained even if the memories pained him. If they could help Bucky and Y/N maybe they were good for something.

“Clint I’m sorry…” she began but he just shook his head with a sad smile.

“No pity. Not for you. Not for me. Not for Bucky. He’ll pull through. Listen this life messes us up in so many ways, messes all of us right the hell up but we’ll push through. Bucky too. We’ll focus on the silver linings,” Clint sent her a wink giving her hand a squeeze. He couldn’t help but feel relieved when she laughed.

“I’m a silver lining?” she laughed, causing Clint to shrug.

“To Bucky yes. Laura and the kids are mine,” he answered with a grin as he got up offering her his hand. She took it allowing him to pull her back onto her feet. “Just try and be patient with the schmuck,” Clint grinned wrapping his arm around her shoulder, leading her back to the Tower and a hopefully calmer Bucky.

Y/N tensed as they reached the kitchen and Clint sent her a reassuring smile, nudging her towards the hall and Bucky’s room. “It’ll be fine,” he assured her, praying he wasn’t lying.

She took a deep breath before knocking on the door, slowly pushing it open. Her heart broke at the sight that met her. Steve was sitting in one of the chairs, his elbows on his knees leaning against his best friend. Bucky was on the edge of the bed hiding his face in his hands not looking up until Steve greeted her.

The shock and pain in Bucky’s eyes, when they met hers, took her breath away. A part of him would always fear to lose her each time she walked out of his sight, but today he had been sure he had.

“Hi Y/N. I’ll give you two some privacy,” Steve stood up giving Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze and Y/N a grateful smile before pushing past her out the door.

“Y/N. I’m sorry I didn't mean to yell at you like that,” Bucky spoke the second Steve closed the door behind him. He didn’t move though. He sat completely frozen as if he was afraid the slightest movement would spook her. Y/N felt as if a knife was pushed through her chest. She hated he still thought she could be scared of him. She never had been and she never would be. She knew that telling him that wouldn't make a difference, not right now at least. She didn't run away because he had scared her. She ran because she was angry and hurt he wouldn't let her help him. That he wouldn’t let her even touch him when all she had needed was to feel his warmth, assuring them both he was home.

“It’s fine. Couples fight,” Y/N answered quietly as she crossed the room to sit down next to him. They didn't look at each other, as they sat in silence. His right side was pressed against her left and their eyes fixated on their hands slowly edging closer to each other. They gently started to intertwine and not until they were, did Bucky look at her. His courage fueled her and she looked up to met his gaze.

“I can’t talk about this with you doll. I’m sorry. You’re…” Bucky paused not knowing how to explain it but Y/N just smiled.

“Your silver lining,” she grinned and Bucky raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“You’re my what?” he chuckled lightly squeezing her hand and Y/N pulled a face at him, before looking down at her feet almost shyly.

“Can you do something for me?” she asked. Her voice so low it was barely audible and Bucky’s smile fell. He hated seeing her hurting or sad, especially over him.

“Anything doll. Anything,” he instantly assured her and her eyes met his again. Still looking nervous, she chewed her lip and Bucky wanted to lean in and kiss her to make her stop.

“Hold me?” she asked quietly, making Bucky smile. It had been all he had wanted to do from the moment she walked through the door. He had been so incredibly stupid, pushing her away when he needed her the most.

“C'mere darling,” Bucky laid back on the bed gently pulling her into his arms. He relaxed, closing his eyes as he felt her fingers tender patterns in his chest. She was right. She was his silver lining and just one moment like this with her was worth all the pain he had gone through to get to this day in time.

Please reblog; help me spread my work - Leave a comment. Feedback is fuel

Sebastian Stan/ Bucky Barnes Tag Team

@emilyevanston @sea040561 @petra-arkanian-1497 @serienjunkiegirl @jackasaurus-strax @feelmyroarrrr @holyfuckloueh @dolphinpink310 @evansrogerskitten @smoothdogsgirl @rebelslicious @roxyspearing @mizzzpink @all-my-favourite-things91 @blacktithe7 @valecitainwonderland @badassbaker @petra-arkanian-1497 @grace-for-sale @thinkwritexpress-official @sebbytrash

[afishtrap]

Hello hi um how did you get into art modeling and do you have any advice for people (me) who are interested in trying it?

It’s actually REALLY easy! Go to your nearest university, college, or community college, and find the art department. Tell them you’re interested in modeling for art classes. 

That’s it.

Honestly, that’s all there is to it. 

I have never in my life heard an art teacher say, “naw, we’re fine, we don’t need any models.” Now, they may have regular models, but sometimes things happen, so you might be a backup at first. It also depends on whether you’re willing to do clothed or nude – it’s always much easier to find clothed models. Nude models are rare and valued – and also often among the highest paid (if not THE highest paid) student work on campus. (Note that the trade-off is that you’ll probably only work like 4 hours a week, compared to 20 in the computer lab.) 

Here’s the most important tip of all, for those moments when you’re second-guessing the idea:

True artists love ALL bodies.

I’m gonna say that again:

TRUE ARTISTS LOVE ALL BODIES.

This is not fashion modeling. This is art modeling. You do not have to be a size six (and in fact, if you’re a size fourteen or higher, the artists will LOVE you because those bodies are curvier and more fun to draw). You do not have to have a perfect tan, or delicate fingers. You just have to have a BODY, and I have yet to meet an artist who doesn’t see the human body as worth celebrating in all its shapes. 

Hell, my sister’s favorite model in art school was a medium-height, mid-thirties woman who nude-modeled through her entire pregnancy. Okay so there was a break in class the first time the baby kicked, and for ten minutes no one drew ‘cause they were all too busy watching the woman’s stomach move, but still. Favorite model, hands-down.  

A few tips behind the cut. 

never undress in front of the artists

Get yourself a long bathrobe or yukata, something that’s easily wrapped around yourself. Change in the bathroom, shove your stuff back in your bag, and walk to the classroom. When the doors close and the teacher says it’s time, simply drop the robe. 

The reason you don’t undress in front of the artists is that western culture is primed to see ‘undressing’ in front of another as a sexy, intimate act. So you want to minimize that as much as possible. One second you’re dressed, the next, you’re not. Plus, no one there needs to know what color underwear you wear. They’re just interested in the body.

(If you’re doing semi-clothed, like in a bathing suit, the same applies, unless you’re walking into class wearing, say, a loose dress that you just pull over your head to reveal a bathing suit. The undressing should still be minimized.)

plan ahead on your poses

You’ll want to know two things at the start of each class. One, where you should sit while you’re waiting. The other are what poses the teacher wants. (It’ll take a few times to learn to translate ‘I want the students to focus on X’ into ‘okay so I need to pose doing Y and Z’.) 

A lot of teachers will give a short lecture at the start: ie, today you should draw in this style, or focus on this element. That lecture will clue you in on how you can help the students, too. Like if they’re focusing on muscles, think of ways to tense your muscles for them. (Frex, a way to pose where you’re pulling or pushing.) 

If the teacher wants a particular pose (composition classes will do this, if they’re redrawing classical art), then practice it while still in your robe, with the teacher instructing you. (Since you’re clothed, it’s less of an issue if a teacher moves your arm or foot into position.) Once you’ve gotten the ‘feel’ of it, then drop the robe and get back into position.  

forgive yourself for being nervous

If you were raised  in western culture (especially as female), there’s going to be a moment where it hits you – omg, I’m naked in front of strangers holy hell wtf am I doing. Roll with it. We’ve all been there.

For most models (including me), it was that moment just before dropping the robe for the first time. Up to that point, it was intellectual, and suddenly it became real. We’re raised to be so aware of our bodies and the space we take up as female, violating those taboos can be hard. 

So the first thing is that it’s absolutely okay to say this is your first time. Artists are people, too. When they stop to remember that models are people, they’re usually pretty good at recognizing that modeling takes guts. (Sometimes artists will look away or down, fussing with their supplies. That’s their polite way of giving you space to make the transition from ‘person’ to ‘model’.)

Then take a deep breath, and jump. Drop the robe, that is.

Make sure you’ve got that first pose in your head, and can go right to it. That helps reduce that awkward moment of panic. Once you settle into the pose, something clicks in the brain and we go, “okay, now I am just a body.” 

Also, it does get easier. It’s just getting over the socialization that tells us our (female) bodies aren’t ours to use as we want. It takes practice, though.

the artists are friends, not food!

Artists WILL forget the room is cold, ‘cause they’re wearing clothes and you’re, well, not. (Even if you’re just wearing a bathing suit, you’re still going to be wearing a lot less, most of the time.) Speak up if you’re too hot, too cold, or need a break ‘cause your muscles are cramping. 

Some artists will yell out that they’re almost there, please hold still! Count down for them. “I’m going to break in 5… 4… 3…” That gives them warning. 

When you resume the position, get yourself into what you think is right, then ask someone to your left, “look okay?” They’ll usually look at their picture, then you, and say something like, “your left foot was a little farther back.” Check with the artists on the other side, etc., until everyone’s satisfied you’re as close as can be. Artists may suck at remembering the room is cold, but they adore models who work with them.

When you’ve got some kind of agreement, tell them, “okay”, and then close your eyes for a bit, take a deep breath, and then open your eyes. You are now in Body Model Mode. Go someplace nice in your head, until the teacher calls a break or you need to stretch. 

(Usually by the 2nd or 3rd class, you’ll have a sense of whether the class is a bunch of talkers, or are fine if you talk. I used to do quasi-standup routines about my weekend adventures in the city.)

the rare artist may push your boundaries

If you ever break position (for any reason) and the artists’ groans aren’t good-natured, or you get the vibe they’re angry with you – and the instructor is okay with that – do not model for them again. You are still a human being, and it’s not right to expect you to hold a painful position past your point of endurance. 

Also, one firm rule is that you don’t get touched when you’re naked. If someone wants you to move, tell them to do the pose themselves, and you mimic it. Or put your robe back on, practice, and then remove the robe and we’re back to the no-touching rule. Being naked is not permission for anyone to violate your personal space. 

Again, to make this perfectly clear: if you are EVER made to feel uncomfortable by someone, do not model for them again. Hell, you can always just put on the robe, pick up your stuff, and walk out. You’re doing THEM a favor. If they can’t recognize that, they don’t deserve you. 

That said, I modeled for almost three years, and only once did anyone put their toe on that line. I just glared at the person, and the other artists took care of it for me. They didn’t want to lose a model who was willing to work with them, after all, even if one classmate was being a jerk.

plus, extra cash! 

Once you’ve worked with artists regularly, if you’re comfy, go ahead and offer out-of-class sessions (or they may even ask). Most artists will split that cost between them, and you’ll be in the studio on a saturday afternoon with five artists who will be absolutely delighted with the extra time. (I once made $200 in an afternoon and all I had to do was watch a movie naked while ten artists drew furiously. I even got fed lunch!) 

Every now and then, an artist will want you for a solo session, like if they’re working on something and need a very specific pose. Use your best judgment on that, especially if you’re not meeting at the usual studio. Wherever you go, approach it professionally: wear the robe, plan the pose, drop the robe, and when time’s up, put the robe back on. 

when an artist like-likes you

It happens. But of the artists I dated, not a single one ever made a move when I was posing. They were in artist mode, I was in Body Model Mode, full stop. Then I’d put my robe back on, and suddenly the flirtation came out. 

This is not to say artists won’t talk, joke, or tease, sometimes. (Some people are just talkers.) But that extra element of attraction doesn’t seem to kick in until there’s mystery, and it’s really hard to be mysterious when you’re buck-naked. Besides, 99% of the time, you’re busy thinking, “oh crap I need to sneeze” or “I think my foot’s asleep”  while the artist is thinking “sienna? no burnt umber” or “damnit I mangled her kneecaps”. It’s just not a conducive mindset for flirtation. 

good luck!

Hopefully some of this is helpful, and feel free to ask if you have more questions. Now, go forth and conquer!