#I like playing around with his design since it's so fluid lol

[deva-arts]

Have some icky tricky flicky sticky Ricky

[xf-cases-solved]

Valentine’s Questionnaire

These questions are designed to help your secret admirer get to know you and some of your favorite things. When answering, try to keep in mind that there are many different types of gifts that your answers may help your secret admirer create! Remember these are also a starting point and you are encouraged to send anonymous love letters (asks) to your valentine over the next four weeks.

Tell your secret admirer about your relationship to The X-Files. This could be about how you got into the show in the first place, what it means to you, or anything else you’d like to share.

due to poor parenting decisions, i was allowed to watch x-files as a wee babe (five years old, circa 1998). as a result, i kind of absorbed the x-files into my personality via osmosis and it has become intrinsically linked to my soul ever since. so y'know, a totally normal relationship with a tv show 💀

Tell your secret admirer about your favorite things! Favorite characters, ships, scenes, seasons, arcs, etc.

msr 4eva, 5eva, ♾️eva. they invented love. i have always been a huge fan of simp mulder. like, literally always. as a kid i loved the episodes where scully was in peril, not bc i liked seeing her suffer, but bc i liked seeing MULDER suffer bc he becomes so unhinged when she's in danger. (as an adult with a gender studies minor, i recognize how that's not the most feminist pov to have, but sometimes an ardent feminist needs to watch a loser man lose his mind bc the woman he loves has been kidnapped for the eighty fourth time, ok??). i am also pretty firmly an original run fan (s1-7 and then what i consider to be canon after that sort of just depends on my whims). cancer arc and SSoS are always *chefs kiss*

Now what are your least favorite things?

bc of life circumstances that occurred around the same time as its release date, (and also just bc i think it's not a very good movie), i don't fuck with IWTB, unfortunately. (i'll watch gifs of them smooching tho, i'm okay with that much lol). i don't like mulder/other at all, ESPECIALLY diana. and as mentioned above, anything past s7 is kind of up in the air in terms of whether or not i accept it as canon or just disregard it entirely. i enjoyed the revival in that i enjoyed having new content and experiencing that joy of sitting down to watch x-files as it aired again, but i don't actually like the plot of it. the episode with rhys darby can stay, tho, that one slaps

Tell your secret admirer where you fall on the following scales:

Spice Scale

Salt only – no spice at all please! i.e., general audience rating.

Black pepper – a hint of spice. i.e., teen rating.

Chili pepper – there’s a bit of a kick! i.e., mature rating.

Habanero – definitely spicy, but most spice lovers can handle it. i.e., explicit rating.

Ghost pepper – only for the spiciest of spice lovers. i.e., VERY explicit/kink/POANG rating.

literally anything, with some exception with ghost pepper, in that i'm not rly into d/s unless it's rly mild, spanking, or any kind of bodily fluid play besides jizz

Angst Scale

Pale blue sky – no angst, all fluff!

Aquamarine – a little bit of angst, maybe some yearning, nothing too heartbreaking. e.g., the various scenes in Mulder’s hallway.

Cascade ocean wave – a moderate amount of angst, e.g. Pusher or Wetwired. Happy ending included.

Sapphire tears – pain slut. Angst with a happy or bittersweet ending. e.g. abduction arcs, cancer arc.

Catastrophic blues – literally why. Lots of angst with some devastation for dessert, e.g. cancer arc but Scully dies at the end, season 8 and Mulder dies.

i love angst, but prefer it served with a side of hurt/comfort and an at least somewhat happy/ambiguous ending

What’s on your X-Files playlist? e.g. a character playlist, MSR playlist, etc. Bonus points for love songs!

none of the songs i associate with x-files make sense bc it's mostly just vibes. "blue skies" by noah and the whale is one i associate with them, but that is partly bc it was a song i looped a lot when i wrote my multi-chap xfiles fic. i have a headcanon that scully's favorite song is "brandy" by looking glass. anything else kind of just varies. my playlists are weird

What are some of your favorite quotes and/or lyrics about love?

hmmmmm. "this world isn't big enough to keep me away from you" from the song "seabird" by the alessi brothers is a good one if taken in a "no matter what the world throws at us, we'll always find our way back to each other" type of way, not a stalkerish type of way, lmfao. i like the "i love you and i like you" thing from parks and rec, bc i think quality relationships should be built on friendship. if i wasn't doing this questionnaire on a time restraint i could probably come up with something better, but that's what i got off the dome

What are some of your favorite tropes? Are there any you avoid?

i enjoy oblivious idiots, mutual pining, i can always get behind a good ol' "there was only one bed." idk, most tropes are fair game if done well. except 5+1 fics, which i don't like for some reason. i think they just remind me of boring creative writing exercises in college lol

What is your favorite color or color scheme? These can be specific colors or general categories, e.g. jewel tones, cool colors.

fall colors, warm colors, american southwest colors, anything maroon or burgundy, and, in total contrast to the rest, lime green

What’s a fic that you would send as a valentine to someone else? Why would you choose that fic?

like a fic that already exists? oh i have no idea and i don't have time to find something, but i would probably pick something fairly low-stakes with a happy ending and lots of smooches in it, bc i think that encompasses the spirit of the holiday

Share the links to some gifsets/edits that you love and tell your secret admirer why (e.g. do you like the layout? The coloring? The quote that they used? Typography? Simplicity? Parallels?). These can be X-Files/MSR or other fandoms.

?????? idk bro! any gif of them looking longingly at each other, kissing, hugging, or mulder losing his mind bc he's scared and in love are amazing. they could be grainy and poorly colored and i'd still stare at them endlessly. also, if my secret valentine goes with a giftset as the gift, i want them to do it they way that's natural from them. i wanna see THEIR artwork, not someone else's, ya feel?

that goes for all other types of gift as well, btw! there's literally no way to disappoint me, so go with your heart!!

k i g2g, hope this was somewhat helpful. feel free to hmu with any questions and i will try v hard to answer in a timely manner, even if doing things in a prompt, responsible way goes totally against my nature

later,

-diz

[skylerskyhigh]

OKAY BET- UHHHH-

🥳 & 🤩

Thank you friend!

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

If it's fanfic specifically, I started it as a way to cope and vent from the stress of my life. High school was a horrible time for me, and I found solace in writing fanfics.

At first it started as a way to vent. If you check my old works, particularly from the Undertale fandom, it was... a lot. It was very dark, experimental, but it was also filled with a lot of hurt/comfort.

It evolved into a way to explore ideas, particularly the AUs. I found that I enjoyed taking characters and expanding on them, going backwards and making them deeper, exploring their hypothetical past and deepening their character.

Then it became a way for me to express myself. I got so interested in writing stories and it expanded from there. Writing "what ifs", tropes, testing out ideas, and generally being very experimental with what I want to write. There were... a lot of fics that have been stuffed into the depths of hell, but overall, writing has evolved from being a coping mechanism, to something I really enjoy.

🤩 What led to your interest in the fandom?

Since I'm deep in the ROTTMNT fandom, I'll answer for that! I just LOVE the show! I knew it was around back in 2018 but back then I had no way of watching it. But immediately I was drawn to the unique character designs and I was very curious.

Then recently, this year, I got to watch the movie and OH BOY was that a trip! It had EVERYTHING I love about a story!

Great character design. Great writing. Deep characters. STELLAR animation! Just, the animation got me hooked at just how dynamic, fluid, and bright everything is! Then, of course, was the amazing storytelling of the whole movie. As a writer, that movie just hit all the right spots. I've gotten into a little play by play debate with my sister- who also got sucked into the fandom- about all the beautiful animation details and styles. We drove our other family members mad with our caffinated ramblings about the brushes they used for a scene in the movie lol.

Then I found a way to watch the actual show and my stars was I in deep.

It was funny, for one. The jokes were on point and I was wheezing through every single episode. I even made a live reaction to my friend just laughing over my favourite parts. The comedy was just something I love, my brand of humour.

The writing is awesome! Not just the normal fun episodes, which were great on their own. They manage to sneak in important plot points in what seems like typical episodes, but it does relate to the progression of the plot and story! Which, as a writer, I applaud them. They have gotten me saying "You had me in the first half, not gonna lie" more than once. Mixing fun light-hearted episodes and plot progressing episodes, and doing it in such a way that's so smooth and almost realistic, that's what I love.

The characters were so well written. I fell in love with every character, even the one I didn't expect to adore! Baron Draxum started off as just "Oh another villain, cool" but then I was just HEAD OVER HEELS in love with his character!! Not just Draxum! I love Hueso! I love Cassandra! I love April! I even have a fondness for the other villains like MeatSweats, Hypno-pottamous and Warren Stone! That's not even mentioning the main turtle boys, whom I just ADORE!

The relationship with the brothers are just perfection! As a big sister of four, the dynamics were pretty accurate and I was enjoying every second of their interaction. The things they do are sometimes what me and my siblings do. Very chaotic, very loud. I understood Raph as a big sibling, I adore the relationship with Mikey and Leo, and I relate to Donnie for his autism.

Which!!! When I found out Donnie was autistic, I was surprised! He was very well written and as a fellow autistic, I kin very well to him. He helped me learn more things about myself that I didn't even know. The way the brothers treat him is also similar to how mine is. The more I watched and understood, the more in love with the show I got!

Again, the animation was stellar. I love it all! The style! The shots! The colors! The almost anime-like design to it! It was everything I love about animation!

And, of course, the potential storytelling this fandom has. I'm a sucker for good potential. It plays with tropes, flips them on their heads, and execute it so well that I just have to applaud them for it. Seriously, making Draxum this warring warrior scientist, and then just leaning into the dramatics. The whole relationship dynamic between Draxum and Splinter with the old "divorced parents co-parenting their children" is just delightful. Cassandra being so eccentric and energetic, you can't help but be swept by her energy. Switching the family dynamics of the turtle brothers was just genius, pure genius. Making the turtles look more humanoid and muscular and then making them both dramatic and proud, they knew what they were doing. The entire episode of the turtles dressing up. The ninpo powers. The Chad Kraang. The creators knew what they were doing and I am in awe at their magnificence.

This fandom is filled with passionate, creative, and amazing people! I've seen the stuff they have done and the dedication to this fandom (I do hope for a season 3) and its just been a fantastic experience all around! Y'all do have a fascination with angst though, just saying. There's... so much angst in this fandom and you eat it up more than the ORV fandom.

Anyway! That's all! Sorry for the long ask! Thanks for it though, it was fun! ^^

[houseboatisland]

I'm rather curious for your own takes on Thom Thom~✨💙

Edit credit to @/ComradeOpThomas from Twitter, this is my ideal Thomas!

(Season 5 Thomas is the best Thomas, I don’t make the rules)

I started this hoping for it not to become a whole biography, but it just kept pouring out of me, so here's a very, very long post indeed lol

Thomas is NOT an L.B.S.C.R. E2 Class. He’s actually a unique design born to the North Western Railway in its earliest days… and in remarkably sad circumstances.

When the Railway Executive Committee first took over in August 1914, they were repulsed at the state of the Sudrian railways. Here were several argumentative companies operating in isolation from one another, with geriatric engines and stock, and one of them hadn't even run a train or maintained its permanent way since the start of the century. A key agenda item of the R.E.C.'s was a continuous, efficient railway system to quickly move men and materiel to the Island's eastern coast were Ireland to side with Kaiser Bill against John Bull. The existing standard gauge railways would have to be more or less torn up and rebuilt from scratch, and several new miles of track laid in to make for a single fluid network.

This required, among other things, many new engines. Several came over the Channel as and when could be spared by the Mainland, but as it became increasingly clear that the war would not be over "by Christmas," this wasn't an ideal long-term solution. The R.E.C. was especially upset that it had to put so many of its tender engines onto construction trains when their strength could be better used on other work. Two tank engines off the former Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, No. 1 "Short" and No. 2 "Stumpy" were by now nearing fifty years old, and exhausted mechanically.

The R.E.C., out to keep costs down and use resources to the fullest, ordered the N.W.R. to scrap these two engines and use the best parts of each to create one new engine. Measurements were taken, plans were hastily drawn up, and Short and Stumpy were quietly cut up in January 1915. Several fittings were made new for what odds and ends neither engine could contribute a usable part. The resulting new engine was "Thomas," who was put to work fresh off the shop floor.

Thomas at this point became the N.W.R.’s No. 1 quite by accident. He was the first engine to be built at Crovan’s Gate, and the REC misinterpreted this on his builder’s plates as an intention by the N.W.R. TO make him No. 1. So when Thomas gained his number, the R.E.C. and the N.W.R. both assumed this was deliberate by one another. And it was just too much of a hassle and too unimportant to change, so No. 1 he stayed.

As for his name, Thomas is named after Thomas Reginald Payne, the North Western Railway's first Chief Mechanical Engineer. Payne had made Thomas' construction a reality, from drawing up his blueprints to supervising his piecing together. Payne, who was CME from 1914 to his death in 1951, never forgot this connection to "his" engine, and often wanted to be on the shop floor whenever Thomas was in for repairs.

Thomas’ “infancy” was in a word, harsh. He was working around the clock, surrounded by engines who came and went, and did little if any socializing. Foremen were ordering him about at every turn. His first friend ever was the new N.W.R. No. 2, Edward, the former Wellsworth and Suddery Railway’s No. 5 and only tender engine, who knew his old crewmates were chopped up to make Thomas. Thankfully, Edward knew better than to let Thomas in on this, lest he give him some sort of existential crisis, and he made quick work of making himself a mentor to the little engine.

In these conditions, Thomas’ “cheeky” and anti-authoritarian streak took shape. His whole life thus far had been work and taking lumps from his superiors, most of whom were English and not Sudrian. This morphed into a disrespect for big engines, who wanted him to be their errand boy as construction work began to ebb and focus shifted to running trains. Ever the contrarian, Thomas only doubles down on his disrespect for tender engines when he finds out that that’s “the traditional order of things.” Edward is of course exempt from this attitude, but in his tensest moments Thomas can even lose patience with HIM momentarily.

The war finally ends. January 1919 sees the N.W.R. out to make an identity for itself as peacetime takes hold and Parliament quietly rumbles about Grouping or outright Nationalization. Thomas is the first engine to wear "Hatt Blue with Red Stripes," the company's planned standard livery. This isn't unique to him for long, however, and Thomas' new line of work from hereon is Station Pilot for Vicarstown. Needless to say this is upsetting to him. He's not moving up and down the Island like he was when building the railway. He's still rushed off his wheels. He's expected to be answerable to tender engines as he makes up their trains. Most importantly, he's still having as much difficulty as before to make time to make friends. This new job is in every respect everything Thomas could have wanted to avoid, and there's no telling if he'll ever even get out of it. January 1919 is thus where "Wants to See the World" Thomas begins.

Thomas still gets to see Edward regularly, and he is for a pinch joined by two other tank engines shunting at Vicarstown. They're also ex-Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, Nos. 3 and 4 "Edwin" and "Victor." Thomas befriends Victor, who is a friendly old joker, but dislikes Edwin who has become cranky in his old and as a 2-4-0T has a tendency to slip and not be of much help. They leave him too, in 1922, when The Fat Director relocates them to run other branchlines on the Island. So, 1922 onward, we meet Thomas as the sole pilot, thoroughly busy and thoroughly lonely.

This seems more or less canon, but The Fat Director probably sent Thomas to Wellsworth after his runaway with Edward's trucks in anticipation of giving him the Ffarquhar Branch once he was a matured engine. He didn't give Thomas the line just because he rescued James in fine style, that was really what made his mind up.

Thomas looks kindly enough on Henry as a big engine at this time, he and Edward as mentioned aren't necessarily the kinds of "Big Engines" he dislikes. He'll occasionally give him a tease or two, or lose patience with his health, (something he now deeply regrets years later,) but there's no real malice in it. Think of him as the little brother poking fun at his bigger brother for having one arm in a cast, but altogether still feeling sorry for him and accommodating him how he can. Henry for his part appreciates Thomas, but takes his teasing very seriously considering how sensitive and implicating it is to, you know, his whole existence.

My idea of Thomas' relationship with Gordon is heavily inspired by @/mean-scarlet-deceiver's: Thomas is initially awed by Gordon's arrival and finally confident the N.W.R. can survive, but quickly resents him when he shows his true colors as a "big engine" through and through. I wouldn't even call Gordon and Thomas "friendly" until their alliance at Toryreck Mine. From 1923 all the way up to then, depending on when you place it, they... legitimately dislike each other. There's no affection beneath all the ribbing and jibes, they ACTUALLY disliked each other that whole period of time.

I'm still hashing out my headcanon of 98462 and 87546, (just know that those aren't actually their numbers,) but it's safe to say Thomas hates their guts, and '62 and '46 hate his guts in return as a servant willing to speak up for himself.

Thomas and James were a couple from 1924 to 1933, when they broke up amid the Big Engine Strike. I'd really rather reserve this for a post of its own at a later date.

Thomas and Percy are good friends, but I wouldn't go so far as to call them "best friends" like the TVS has so often hammered in. They clearly come to blows whenever the tension's too much. I like to explain that away as a shift in Thomas' character. With him doing more passenger work as Percy and Toby handle the stone trains, and his increasing fame, Thomas begins looking down on Percy, not long after he transferred to Ffarquhar in 1955 in fact. This might also have to do with unresolved feelings between them both. (Hey, remember that little green engine you kissed once just to try it over twenty years ago? He's your roommate now, probably forever. Play nice!)

[palbabor-writes]

I know you said you only might accept pregnancy requests depending on what it is so I wanted to try 😅 how about shigaraki and reader break up while she’s unknowingly pregnant with his child and he bumps into said child years later and connects the dots that it’s his? If you don’t like it feel free to ignore this request 😊

I liked this nonnie.

I am terrified that by saying that I’m going to be inundated with pregnancy HC’s, lol. But, this request I really leaned into. Plus, it’s more about a kid than a pregnancy. 

So, thank you for asking and letting me slip out of my comfort zone. It’s always good to do that every once in awhile and this ask was a great reminder of that.

It’s a bit melancholic, but I think it fits with Tomura, at least, in my mind.

Now, this is not in canon. This is not like, pre-war arc, or post-war arc. If anything, it’s more of an AU. I’d put Tomura in his late 20s to early 30s.  

warnings: none really, just some sweet, sweet interactions and mild angst 

Hestia Hestia, in Greek religion, is the goddess of the hearth, a daughter of Cronus and Rhea, and one of the 12 Olympian deities. When the gods Apollo and Poseidon became suitors for her hand, she swore to remain a maiden forever, and Zeus, the king of the gods, bestowed upon her the honor of presiding over all sacrifices. 

The shouting noise of children set his teeth on edge.

Toga had insisted that the bus stop by the school was the best place for the information exchange.

They won’t look for you there, she’d assured him. It’s like hiding in plain sight. Yeah, it’s patrolled, but it’s only an old security guard who does the rounds. Besides, he’s retired from the police force, she qualified, and was more like a lazy cat than an attentive scent hound.  

It’s the best place, really.

So, Shigaraki had made the long trek across Tokyo.

He kept to the shadows as he weaved his way through back alleys and streets. Although the dominance of the League had waned some over the years, he was still a wanted criminal, responsible for countless death and threats on hero society.

He was still the King of his slice of the underworld.

Besides, he reassured himself as he loitered by the bench under the bus stop, he could trust Toga.

She had improved in leaps and bounds as she came of age; deadlier, sleeker, more attuned to the ebbs and flows of the world around her. She wasn’t that girl who chattered about blood anymore.

Oh, she still held a strange fascination with the fluid. But she had more control over those impulses that drove her. If she said it was the best place, well, who was he to argue? Toga had been with him from the beginning, a vital ally. Hell, at this point she was close to being a friend.

Shigaraki is still musing when the ball taps its way to his feet.

It clatters against the pavement; the rubber shuttling it along the loose rocks and leaves. Unthinkingly, Shigaraki lifts his shoe to balance against its unbound movement, stilling its lulling bounces.

Must be from that schoolyard, he thinks, his red eyes flashing up at the low chain-link fence that separates the school grounds from the busy street.

There’s no child dashing their way to retrieve it, so he lets his gaze slip from the teeming masses of giggling youngsters. It’s a pretty blue. The ball looks new. Hardly a scuffed and battered thing.

He keeps it under his sole, toying with it, rolling it meditatively as he slips back into his thoughts.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

It’s a small voice that calls to him and he turns his head back to the fence, looking for the source.

It’s a girl.

She’s leaning against the metal, her hands clutching into the links, cocking her head inquisitively at him.

Her nose wrinkles at his silence, and she shouts another demand.

“Mister, that’s my ball. Toss it back.”

“Aren’t you supposed to say please?” Shigaraki taunts, his lips lifting in a quick grin. He’s not sure why he’s bothering to engage with this kid, but something about her plucky attitude resonates with him.

She leans away from the fence, that scowl deepening on her soft features.

“Aren’t grown ups not supposed to steal things?”

He laughs at her snark. He can’t help it. Oh, this kid’s fun.

Carefully slipping the ball into his hands, he moves closer to the fence. He can see her a little better now.

She’s still got that deep frown on her face and her dark hair is gleaming in the afternoon sun, some strands catching the light, reflecting a deep, auburn, hue. He’s just about to chuck the ball to her when he catches sight of her eyes.

They’re red.

Not that red eyes are unusual. There are plenty of people milling around Tokyo with them. But hers are different.

No, these eyes are like looking into a mirror for Shigaraki. They flint and glare with the same sheen as his own. It’s a prefect reflection.

His feet suddenly feel heavy, leaden, and he can’t lift his arms. Who is this child? Why does she-

“Ok, ok, mister. Can I please have my ball back? You’re still stealing it if you don’t, so I’m not apologizing for that. I might... if you give it back to me, cuz’ it’s my ball, not yours. And, stealing makes you a thief.”

She’s rolling those uncanny irises at his stiff form, and a huffing sigh escapes her small mouth.

“What’s your name?” Shigaraki asks, hands trembling over the rubber of the ball.

“Not supposed to tell that to strangers, mister.”

He smiles again, bemused. Well, he thinks begrudgingly, she’s a clever little thing. Whoever she is.

A sharp bell echoes across the yard and she turns her head at the sound, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders.

“Here,” Shigaraki relents, gently flipping the ball over the fence, bouncing it to her feet.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, quickly snatching up her prize. Those red eyes of hers meet his own, and he can feel a low shiver echo up his spine. What’s up with this reaction? It almost feels visceral, like some sort of otherworldly pull on him.

“Sorry I called you a thief,” she apologizes, quickly bowing her head, ducking those eerie eyes from view.

He’s not sure what to say, so he continues to watch her. She doesn’t seem perturbed by this, opting to giggle at him as her little head lifts.

“You’re weird,” she assess, a smile finally spreading over her lips, her cheeks rounding and softening. 

Tch, she’s rude, but she’s also cute, Shigaraki thinks, snorting at her frankness.

She turns, dashing away from him, her dark hair flowing around her back as she goes.

Shigaraki shakes his head, trying to dislodge those lingering questions that keep floating to the back of his mind.

He’ll never see her again, he reasons, wandering back to the bus stop. Trying to tamp down the urge to look for her again, to pinpoint her from the other giggling and shouting children on the playground.

But he did see her again.

He comes back to the stop a few weeks later.

There’s no information pickup this time. There’s no real reason for him to even be on this side of town.

He just can’t get her out of his mind.

This little kid had shaken something within his psyche. He kept dreaming about her. Well, not her, really. No, there was someone else haunting his dreams.

He hasn’t thought about you in years.

But now? Now, he can’t get you out of his head. He even feels like he can feel you some nights, warm against his side. He sulks in the memories of the familiar touches that the two of you shared, the love that you’d pressed into him, so, so long ago.

He saw the girl in those moments. Resting in your arms as you looked up, your eyes bright against her dark head. The girl would laugh and run to him, those reflective red eyes shining with mirth. 

It was fucking strange.

He both hated, and loved, the repetitive nature of these illusions. They made him feel safe and warm, but they also chilled him to his very bones. It was unsettling.

Unsure what else to do, he’d back come to the bus stop.

It’s early afternoon. Close to the time he’d visited it before. He waits on the lonely bench, his hands pressed together and that strange tremble races through his veins.

This is stupid, he thinks, his eyes lowering from the sea of kids, all twisting and turning in a heap as they play. It’s an impossibility, really. The chances of that girl losing her ball again is minuscule. There’s no way he can call to her either. It’s a waste. He shouldn’t even be here.

He’s standing to leave, when that small voice reaches him.

“Oh! You’re back.”

His head whips around, his long white hair glowing against the sunlight.

There she is.

She’s gripping the fence again, and she’s staring right at him.

Shigaraki smiles. It’s a gentle lift and he can feel his heart tapping a rough tattoo against his ribs. He steps toward her, kneeling when he gets close, careful to not overstep his bounds.

He’s not wanting to startle her.

No, he’s wanting to talk with her. Maybe she’ll drop some kinda clue why he’s so drawn to her. Or maybe she’ll morph into any other child again. Plain, uninteresting. Slipping from that odd ghost that she’s become to his subconscious. 

He hopes it’s the latter. But part of him also longs for it to be the former.

She’ll hop to the fence around 3:15.

She looks for him now, used to the routine of his presence.

He told her to call him Tomura, and the name falling from her lips made his heart ache.

Tomura stopped by on Fridays. Careful to not stay too long, to not draw too much attention to himself.

At first, he’d sneak her little trinkets. 

A little plastic toy of his, one that he had since he was a kid. She’d squealed with delight and clutched it to her. He’d grinned at that, remembering how he’d once held onto the thick plastic himself. 

Once, he’d just plucked a nearby flower as he walked to the school, presenting it to her outreached grasp. He’d watched proudly as she tucked it behind her ear, the color glossy beside her hair.

She’s still a sassy little thing. But she’s softened a little, too. Her voice losing that early, untrusting, edge.

He didn’t ask her much. Sometimes they both just sat in silence as she sketched designs into the dirt. Sometimes he would listen to her chatter about her day. Her classmates, her teacher. Once, she’d even pressed something over the fence to him.

It was a drawing.

He’s not sure if it really was all that well done, or if it’s just his heavy bias toward her. But he loves the mix of color and lines. He’d asked who the people were.

One was her friend, Kenji. One was her teacher. One was him.

He’d pinned it to the wall in his room. Displaying it, flaunting the gift. He looked at it every morning, admiring her work.

He’s late one day, and she scolds him, her small arms draping over the fence.

“I didn’t think you were going to come,” she chatters, her red eyes lingering against his, the two colors casting back the same hue.

“Was running behind,” Tomura replies, leaning against the low concrete barrier, resting his back against the fence.

Her little hands reach for his hair, playing with the pearlescent tendrils, weaving some into knots and braids. 

He doesn’t mind.

“Hey, Tomura,” she says, working a tiny hairband into her creation, her voice curious.

“Hmm,” he hums, careful to not shift his head, not wanting to disrupt her hard work.

“You didn’t ask my name again. At least… not after that one day.”

“Do you want me to ask?” He queries, his pulse lifting.

He’d wanted to ask her again, but he didn’t want to startle her, to shatter these innocences that they shared.

“It’s Beryl,” she answers. She says it confidently, and he turns to face her.

She grins at him, wiggling one loose tooth playfully at his serious expression, trying to tug a laugh from him.

“Beryl?” he repeats, unable to keep that awed hush from his raspy tones. It’s a pretty name. It suits her, really. But it’s strange. It’s not Japanese. 

You hadn’t been Japanese. 

“That’s a good name,” he assures her. “But, it’s not… you don’t hear that name very often.”

“Yeah,” Beryl concedes, her vermillion eyes roving over his face. “My mom’s not from here.”

His nostrils flare at that.

He hasn’t asked her about her mother. He’s unsure if it’s a general disinterest on his part, or trepidation. He fears it’s the latter.

Gulping, he tilts his head at her, feeling that soft braid she’s plaited into his hair shifting.

“Who’s your mother?”

“Who is she? She’s my mom, silly.”

“No,” he pauses, ignoring that creeping tremor that’s working its way to the top of his skull, his skin prickling and cooling. “I mean…what’s her name?”

“Oh! Her name is-”

“Beryl! Beryl, it’s time to come inside.” A teacher is calling for her. 

Tomura startles away, drifting to his feet and pacing quickly back to the bus stop. He can’t help the snarl that etches its way across his lips. He’d been so close. So fucking close…

He chances a glance back at the fence and catches sight of Beryl. She’s dashing across the playground, her dark hair waving in the sun.

Japan is about to slip into summer. School will come to a close, moving into a long break. He won’t see her again for almost a month.

His heart sinks at that realization and he grits his teeth. Slipping his hands into his dark trench coat, he steps across the street, away from the bus stop, away from the little girl that’s feeling more and more like his own.

Edit: oh hey. so, i couldn’t stfu about this and created a sequel: Materfamilias 

hahaha & part iii

[softyoongiionly]

NSFW A-Z List (Mama Mia! Jungkook)

***This contains smut, 18+ only please***

“Aqua told me you all had some questions for me so, I had my assistant fax me the prompt and, I’m really hoping she didn’t read it because, these are filthy ha. I hope you all enjoy yourselves.” 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex):

“It kind of depends on the situation but, if I just had sex, I’m in a good mood. If Y/N and I are in the bed, I make sure I change the sheets and, I make sure she’s cleaned up and, feeling good too. Sometimes we like to talk about it. A bit of pillow talk is always great. PILLOWW TALK! Do you guys remember that song by that one dude in one direction? Great song. It’s like he left one direction and, immediately needed to say the word fuck and sing about sex.” 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

“This is a weird question. I like my abs? I guess? I mean I spent like a million hours in the gym trying to tone up and stuff so, it’s definitely the only thing that stands out.” 

“Y/N is the by far the most beautiful woman on the planet so, it’s a little hard to pin point one specific part of her I like the most. If I had to choose, I would say her eyes. Sometimes she looks at me and, I suddenly forget all three languages I speak. She takes my breath away. Literally, who is she looking at like that? Me? Does she value my life at all? Is she trying to kill me? Probably. I love her :-)” 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person):

“Cum...I don’t really know what I’m supposed to talk about in this section so, I’m just gonna say- yes?? Is that the right answer?” 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

“One time, when Y/N was away on business, I jerked off so much in one day, I sprained my hand. I guess that isn’t dirty but, it is embarrassing. I’d probably do it again though, I’m so spoiled that I forgot what’s its like to go without sex.” 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):

“Yikes this question is a little hard for me to answer. Before meeting Y/N, I had a lot of different partners. After finding out my half-brother tried to steal my recipe, I got really down on myself. I felt really empty and, I spent a lot of time partying and, hooking up with random people. I don’t really know how many if I’m being honest. It was a lot though. After awhile I kind of snapped out of it and, realized I needed to deal with my issues head on so, after a bit of therapy, I was doing a lot better. Sexually, I’ve had a lot of experience but, intimacy? That’s a lot newer for me. And let me tell you my dudes, nothing is sexier than being with someone who truly loves and cares for you. I don’t make the rules.” 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual):

“Missionary. Listen, I know it’s a boring answer but, I’m a sucker for passion what can I say? I like watching her face and, seeing all the little expressions she makes, especially right when I first push inside of her. Also, it’s the best position for her to scratch up my back and, I really love when she does that.” 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc):

“I don’t really find a lot of things to laugh about during sex but, I’m sure it’s happened at some point. Sex is kind of a serious thing for me now but, I wouldn’t stay serious if something funny happened because, sometimes funny things do happen. When they do, we laugh but, then I’m right back in the moment again. Y/N and I mess around a lot in our daily lives so, I like to use sex as a way to show her how serious I am about her and, our relationship.” 

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.):

“I got laser hair removal like 3 years ago. Yes, it’s possible to get it done in sensitive areas but, it’s crazy expensive. Or so I’ve heard, I’m not gonna lie to you, my idea of expensive and, other people’s idea of expensive are probably a little different. But yeah, I got it all lasered off so, it doesn’t really grow there anymore. I keep my face shaved too but, my arms and legs are free to grow all the hair they want.” 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…):

“With Y/N, I’m a little bit of a hopeless romantic, I can’t lie. I love all of that cheesy shit. Rose petals on the bed? Yes. Wine and chocolate on the shores of our private beach? At least twice a week. Leaving Y/N little post it notes all over our villa that contain all the things I love about her? Duh. I AM A SAP. I AM A MESS. I can’t help myself. My father collects first edition classic novels and, for Valentine’s Day, I had him send me the contact of his distributor so, I could buy Y/N the first edition of The Princess Bride. It’s one of her favorites. It was only $1,400 so, I definitely got a good deal. I also had a custom gown imported from France and, a prince-like outfit made for me. What do princes even wear? What is that called? Tights? I don’t know but, I looked like a goddamn Disney prince by the time I was done getting ready. I rented a different villa out for the weekend and, my interior designer decorated it like a medieval castle. We spent the weekend playing prince and princess and, it was probably one of the best weekends of my life. So to answer your question: Yes, I am romantic.”

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon):

“I only really touch myself when Y/N is away. Her and I have a pretty consistent sex life so, we have sex almost every day, sometimes multiple times a day. I don’t really have a need for it anymore and, it doesn’t feel nearly as good as sex with Y/N.”

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks):

“I have a few. I’m really sensitive to smells so, if Y/N smells good, I can’t keep my hands off of her. She has this one perfume from Gucci that I love so much. I can get hard just from the smell; it’s kind of pathetic honestly. I love  having sex outside too. It’s a good thing we have a private strip of the beach because, if we had neighbors nearby, they would hate us ha. I have a cashmere picnic blanket that we take down there a few times a week and, we always end up making love on it. Yes, I said making love. Get over it. Oh and, if Y/N says anything about my muscles or how strong I am? Instant turn on. I think I have a praise kink? Is that what it’s called? I love Y/N’s panties too. Lace, silk, cotton, clean or dirty; I don’t discriminate, just put them in my mouth. Lol, this is getting dirty…sorry Aqua.”

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do):

“I already kind of answered this but, sex on the beach or sex on our balcony are probably my top two.”

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going):

“I feel like I answered this one too because, I just talked about my kinks but, I would say my motivation is to get my girl off right? I get off easily. I have a beautiful woman all over me, saying dirty things in my ear… I mean, my orgasm is guaranteed. Y/N doesn’t take a long time to cum anymore because; I know how to please my woman but, I still want her to feel good. I want to see her let go and, let someone else take care of her for a change. She works so hard. I want to show her what a good woman she is. I want to show her how much I love her.”

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

“Threesomes, anal and, I’m pretty sure this is everyone’s answer but, bodily fluids belong in the toilet.”

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc):

“Yes.”

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.):

“Both. Sometimes I want to draw it out and, let her feel every inch of me but, sometimes I want to fuck so hard we are both sore the next day. It’s all amazing either way.”

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.):

“I love quickies. They are great in the afternoon when she and I have things to do but, we still want each other. They would get old after a while though so, we usually do both. It’s very rare that we just have a quickie and, nothing else but, sometimes it happens. Ever since we moved to Greece, we try to always make time for each other but, we both get busy from time to time.”

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.):

“I’m game to experiment a little bit but, Y/N and I have been together awhile. We’ve tried a few different things but, sex with her is so amazing, I don’t feel the need to experiment that much anymore.”

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…):

“I can last forever if I need to. Like I said, my orgasm is an easy thing to obtain with a woman like Y/N so, my focus is making sure she’s feeling it too. I can go for multiple rounds too, I mean it’s hard not to. Have you seen her? We have sex all night sometimes. I hope she finishes her conference call soon, I’m really starting to miss her…”

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?):

“Y/N owns a very tasteful collection of dildos made out of rose quartz and jade. I use them on her sometimes between rounds but, I don’t know how often she uses them beyond that. I don’t own any toys but, I do spend quite a bit of money on new lingerie for Y/N. She has an entire armoire for all of her outfits. Oh, we have gold handcuffs too. We take turns using them on each other.”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

“Y/N has a really sensitive spot on her neck and, she’s really tender around her waist so, sometimes I come up beyond her and, brush my lips against her throat and, tickle her. She’s told me it turns her on immediately so, I like to play with her a little bit. We both tease each other a lot though, especially during phone meetings. One time, I was on a 4 way call with my investors and, she sucked my dick through the entire thing. I thought I was gonna have a heart attack but, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t cum a little harder that time. Maybe that’s another kink of mine…”

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make):

“We live on a private piece of land so; we can be as loud as we want. I’m only loud when things are getting intense but, even still I’m not screaming at the top of my lungs. She isn’t crazy loud either but, I do try my hardest to get her to scream my name every now and again. Just for fun.”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice):

“Y/N and I are in the process of buying an island in the Caribbean and, sometimes I get turned on when she talks about how much money we both have. I’m sorry, I know it’s a dick move but, it’s the truth. I donate millions to charity every year, I swear.”

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words):

“I’m like 7 inches I think? When I’m hard it’s probably like 8 or 9. I’m not sharing any more than that ha.”

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

“Pretty high. Unless I’m really sick or really busy.”

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

“If we’ve been going for multiple rounds, I’m pretty exhausted by the end of it but, I don’t just fall asleep. I don’t want to leave the bed afterwards though. I just want to cuddle with Y/N until we both pass out. If it’s during the day and, we’ve only gone once or twice, I’m not tired at all.”

“Aqua wanted me to dedicate this to @gldnrecs​ and, @bulletproofbirdy​. She says you guys are the best and, apparently you have a sweet spot for me. So, I guess I’ll dedicate this to you too ha. I hope you liked it.”

[tangyblock]

SMSBI AU Masterpost!

Ok so masterpost time! This is mostly a rundown of the happenings in the AU, what role each character plays/their rundown. As an important note, if a CC at any time makes it known that they are uncomfortable with anything I do or include in this AU, it will be removed! There will be no smooth narrative exit, I’ll edit so it would have never happened.

This is set in New York City, during the modern day!

Tommy Robin (15 y/o):

He’s a sophomore in high school (Year 11 for the Europeans)

He got his spider powers at the end-of-year field trip in 7th grade to a science center! He was bitten by a radioactive spider, thus giving him his abilities.

He spends his 8th grade year making sure he has a handle on his powers (I mean, come on, he’s read comics. Now that he has these powers, surely he has to go out into the city and become a vigilante!) and making his spidersuit with his best friend, Tubbo!

He has the following abilities: super strength, spidey sense, increased regeneration, able to stick to walls/ceilings, and his own ~~unique~~ ability to teleport within a short range (anywhere within a 15 foot radius)

He wears his emotions on his sleeve, and is not the best liar.

Wilbur Robin (16 y/o):

He’s a junior in high school (Year 12 for the Europeans)

He has a twin brother: Techno Robin! Wilbur was born second rip

He loves music so much, oh my god-- he has his own guitar and spends most of his time writing original songs and busking on the streets of NYC. 

Help this kid, he’s so sleep deprived, he spends way too much time trying to become a well-known musician. He’s really good, too! He’s just not getting recognized for his talents.

Wilbur (nicknamed Wil) is so oblivious to situations, god bless him man

Techno Robin (16 y/o):

He’s a junior in high school (Year 12 for the Europeans)

He has a twin brother: Wilbur Robin! Techno was born first tho lol

He works at a Barnes and Noble, and is on the high school’s Academic Decathlon team! He’s very smart, he knows his shit. You can’t fool him.

Probably has a caffeine addiction, let’s be real. Who is a gifted kid and doesn’t have some sort of caffeine addiction?

Unlike Wilbur, he’s not oblivious At All. He’s lowkey suspicious of Tommy: is he Spider-Man? He has a list in his head, but come on. There are so many people in New York, it can’t possibly be his little brother!

...right?

Phil Robin (36 y/o):

He works as tech support (like answering calls and helping customers) at Huxley Industries, which specializes in scientific/medical tech, as well as household gadgets.

Since he is raising three boys on his own, he has another part-time job at a convenience store.

I won’t go into too much detail, but the bio mom of the three kids divorced and they agreed for her to have no part in their lives.

ANYWAYS changing tone! He’s a very caring dad to his 3.5 kids (the half kid being Tubbo because he’s always with Tommy so he becomes a pseudo kid overnight)

All I can say is Big Dad Energy(TM)

He doesn’t want his kids to worry or overwork themselves. He just wants them to be safe and be successful in whatever career they pursue. No matter what, he’s supporting them. 

Tubbo Cooper (15 y/o):

Tommy’s absolute best friend, he’s ride or die, man.

A sophomore in high school (Year 11 for Europeans!)

Helped Tommy make his spider suit! He’s really talented with mechanical engineering!

He lives ten minutes away from Tommy, often visiting him and vice versa.

He learned basic first aide! After every patrol, he meets Tommy in an alleyway and helps cleanup any injuries that would raise concern to his family. Though, he did promise that if a fight ever got out of hand, he would call and tell Phil.

He’s the man in the chair! Think Ned from the MCU and Ganke from Miles Morales’s story.

Installs cameras in Tommy’s suit so he can see what Tommy sees at all times, so he can give the most accurate info.

God he loves his friend, and yes gamers, he still loves bees ;D

Jordan Cooper (25 y/o):

Tubbo’s older brother! He does his best.

This one isn’t too obvious, but it’s CaptainSparklez!

It’s the Captain! He got the nickname from Tubbo, since he was Percussion Captain in his high school’s marching band and Tubbo instantly started calling him Captain

He works as a video game designer/programmer, or so that’s what he says...

He has a mini-van and no you can’t convince me otherwise.

He watches over Tubbo, as his older brother, since their parents aren’t around.

He has a strict moral compass, he believes in justice above all else. Without justice, good cannot be accomplished.

He works out so much, he has a little gym in the apartment.

George Alexander (30 y/o):

Since I don’t think this one is inherently obvious, it’s GeorgeNotFound oop--

He’s the founder and CEO of Huxley Industries, and also the villain Inveni (thank you Jean for the poggers name)

He works with his two “buddies,” Dream and Sapnap, who only go by their villain names. 

Think Kingpin.

Messed up morals, but untouchable: if you try to bring him down, his money can make him recover.

Dream (??? y/o):

Think Mysterio, but like. Not special effects.

He is a master of illusions! He loves getting into his enemy’s head and just messing with them. To him, mental damage is the most powerful.

How he got his powers is unknown to the public, but it’s thought that he got them alongside Sapnap.

Sass Master 10,000(TM)

Sapnap (??? y/o):

Think Fire Elemental, but like. Human.

He has the ability to summon and manipulate fire to however he sees fit! He’s a bit more of a brute, and my god, he hates the sass he gets from Spider-Man.

His power’s origins, just like Dream’s are unknown, although there is speculation.

Future characters may be added, but the above are who we have so far!

Additional Facts:

Tommy has a white/red suit, with blue and purple accents. It’s mostly white with red lining!

Tommy has saved Wilbur and Phil, without them knowing. Wilbur began busking in the wrong area, and nearly got jumped, and Phil was on a hijacked subway train.

Phil panic cleans, this is canon.

It took Tubbo and Tommy MONTHS to figure out the perfect web fluid formula. Imagine their absolute joy when they figure it out!

We got a Spotify playlist! Here’s the link, enjoy~~: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0bM10OHfYRdL86UzKT7Frf?si=FTH-i9H8RK28zVgeOEdy7g

PS: Asks are open! Feel free to ask away about this AU, I’d be more than happy to answer!

PPS: SHOUT OUT TO THE BINGO STANS FOR HELPING ME MAKE THIS AU YALL GAVE ME SO MANY 10/10 IDEAS

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-10-15

More Homestuck, continuing directly from last time.  Gonna Bang Out A Liveblog Quick (GbOALq)…

No chapter title this time, just straight continuation.  (By the way, I didn’t reblog it so spoilers don’t headline my blog but this post regarding last upd8 is delightful)

> (==>)

Okay, this makes more sense as to why they both disappeared -- Vrissy is either trying to get her back or is going along and just being grousy about it, or one under the pretense of the other or the like.

By the way, if Rose specifically planned in a way that involved telling Vriska to sit on the sidelines and not doing anything, shouldn’t she ABSOLUTELY KNOW, one-hundred percent with a combination of her Seer of Light powers and common sense, that Vriska will Not Do That?  --so whatever Vriska is about to do I’m going to assume Rose has accounted for it, unless she’s like...

...sworn off using her powers much, or something.  That would super suck and I would hate for that to be in this story regardless of themes.

Vriska Maryam-Lalonde, recently "Vrissy," and potentially "You Are So Grounded You Are Never Leaving The House Again," isn’t what’s commonly referred to as an "outside girl".

She likes grass. It’s fine! To look at. And so are trees, as long as they’re somewhere off in the distance, swaying gently in the breeze. Trampling through them is not on the list of acceptable tree activities. Vrissy is already sweaty and dirt-streaked, and there’s probably like fifty gnats trying to drink her eye fluids. At this rate she almost envies Tavros his role as Batterwitch Bait. Sure, he has to pretend to be threatened by Vrissy’s mom, which is lame as hell and also very embarrassing, but at least his eye fluids are safe.

So she’s fine with this in principle, just not with the work involved? Or--

VRISSY: Hey, can you slow Down a Little? VRISSY: I have to run over Shru8s and shit, I can’t Fly! VRISKA: Hah! And who’s fault is that???????? VRISSY: My shitty 8iology I guess! VRISSY: Sorry, not all of Us had SGRU8 Sessions to make ourselves Immortal. VRISKA: Well, we’ll take care of that, don’t even worry a8out it. VRISSY: Lol I wish.

Oh Christ, we really should have seen it coming.  OF COURSE VRISKA is going to get her hands on a copy of the Game and try and have these kids play it, regardless of whatever meteor-based consequences to this happy society.  FUCK.  She doesn’t even see any reason to hide it!

--reading on, some discussion of how people on Earth C view the ability to fly unaided as a sort of religious thing so shot down Roxy’s idea of letting everyone fly.  Why does society always keep trying to shut down Roxy all the time

VRISKA: Really, we have to get you a god tier. That’s pretty much the only solution at this point. VRISKA: Ideally we’d go back to when you were a wiggler and start your training right away, 8ut that’s not exactly an option. So god tier it is. VRISSY: Is that even Possi8le? outside of the Game? VRISKA: Nope. 8ut we don’t have to worry a8out that, once we get back into SGRU8. VRISSY: What???

This is what you get for letting Vriska back into your story:  She starts another meteor apocalypse and destroys your Happily Ever After.  Fuck.

VRISKA: We have to start this shit over again, you have all let it get so out of hand there’s really nothing to do besides a hard reset.

NO.  Fuck you.  You just don’t like hard work.

(I know everything is accidentally going to end up working out “alright” whatever happens, but even if Vriska’s self-aggrandizing malfeasance HAPPENS to be the cause of it, I really, really don’t want her fucking ideology to be the cause of it.  She shouldn’t be Aesma of Kill Six Billion Demons mythology, she’s had too many flirtations with ACTUALLY learning a lesson and BEING EARNEST ABOUT IT to be the selfish chaos at the heart of victory and living.)

(Yes, I recently caught up with KSBD and it’s awesome.)

> (==>)

VRISKA: This is a perfect spot for a fight. An am8ush point. VRISSY: !! VRISKA: Don’t worry about it, that’s good. That’s what we’re looking for.

Vriska leveraging her luck and assuming they’ll be followed when she wants to be.

> (==>)

That’s a really, really damn good waiting-for-an-ambush image.  Pretty hilarious.

(Still having a background mental fit about how this HS2 crew might REALLY be trying to make Vriska the Aesma of the Homestuck “universe” which is just aaaAAAUGH NOBODY SHOULD WANT THAT.  I’ll be really unhappy with the end product of THIS ENTIRE HS2 PROCESS if they pull that shit, no matter what side benefits there are or how happily it ends.  Hell, ESPECIALLY if it ends happily.  They’re having fun elevating her somewhat more than most people agree she deserves but they shouldn’t elevate her TO THAT LEVEL. EDIT3: More discussion on that here if you don't know what I mean.)

> (==>)

VRISKA: This is actually way more fun than I thought it would 8e. VRISKA: 8ringing around a younger, dum8er me. VRISSY: I think we’re 8asically the Same Age. VRISKA: Whatever!

(Fuck you!)  :)

> (==>)

wait what the fuck--

MANDATED HAIRSTYLES?????

what the fuck!???

EDIT: plausible theory here

> (==>)

Vrissy is that fuzzy dice kind what the hell

> (==>)

Circle, fifteen guys, no special significance that i can detect

> (==>)

Oh is War Shit kinda poppin off alongside the whole church thing?

> (==>)

Colorful ship design, weird zoomout frame transition; something wasn’t smooth with that

Anyway is orbital bombardment gonna happen or?

> (==>)

JOHN: vriska! JOHN: i mean, vriskas!! JOHN: where are JOHN: oh fuck

yeap

> (==>)

Is John flying out under the ship away from the house?  That’s really irresponsible.  (And abruptly transitioned, I didn’t realize it happened at first.  KEYFRAME THINGS BETTER AUGH)

--why is that belly button window still there?  I thought we had a line about Harry fixing his outfit, or at least having the capability to, did they not have time to finish?  Let me check, that’s bugging me:

HARRY: plus i wouldn’t have been able to get your measurements for some clothes that actually fit you if we hadn’t come back here where all my sewing stuff is.

Oh GOT IT.  Harry TOOK his measurements, but hasn’t fixed his outfit yet.

> (==>)

JOHN WHY DID YOU GO ALL THE WAY TO THE CHURCH WHO THE FUCK IS PROTECTING THE KIDS

> (==>)

Okay you’re back at Your House instead of Roxy’s house?

What, going to fight the ship or

I mean you could but you’re kind of forgetting what was the most important damn thing a few panels ago you jackass

> (==>)

Is that a bomb or fucking take out??

Why blow up John’s HOUSE that’s just so petty

> (==>)

ka-house

(pretty)

about time John stopped languishing in his childhood home instead of living life, anyway.

> (==>)

(o no i didnt want john to be sad tho)

it’s fine, he’ll be angry next panel or so

> (==>)

UM THE WHOLE SKY IS GETTING DARK???? HOW LONG ARE YOU SITTING HERE AND LETTING THIS BURN OUT???

HOW MANY HOURS ARE YOU LEAVING THOSE KIDS UNPROTECTED YOU GOLDFISH MEMORY CHUCKLEFUCK

> (==>)

APPARENTLY ALL OF THE HOURS BECAUSE IT’S NIGHT NOW YOU ASS

and that’s the last panel

yknow if we are going to have an arc about john learning to be a slightly more responsible parent it would help if it SHOWED HIM LEARNING ANYTHING

GOODNIGHT

EDIT2: Anonymous asked: "I think the whole "John watches his house burn down" is more him coming to terms with who Jane has become. In the last update they mentioned how Rose(I think it was Rose) baited Jane into believing John and the kids were hiding out at his place, and Jane just destroyed it, so he's coming to terms with the fact that she just tried to kill not only John and Vriska, but the kids too."

Oh shit. I forgot about that from the previous update: "JOHN: but rose sent out some false intel about us heading toward my house, so technically this is the safest place we can be right now, since they cleared the area and everything." He really does have to come to terms with the fact that Jane just tried to murder them all, too, so shit is definitely real.

...Which makes the fact that he didn't rush off to guard the kids in response to THAT NEW FACT still pretty galling, but.

[eien-no-gakusha]

Tamamo no Mae (玉藻の前) Character Analysis

Been playing Onmyoji for a while now (think Pokemon but in ancient Japan) and while not expecting any depth from a mobile game, I was quite intrigued by the character Tamamo-no-mae.

In legend, Tamamo-no-mae was a nine-tailed fox demon who transformed into beautiful & historically famous courtesans and concubines to infiltrate the Imperial Court of ancient Asian empires and bring their ruin.  It’s a cool myth to embellish and explain the fall of actual dynasties (basically, blame the woman lol).  Who wants a boring lecture on economics and ecology when you can enjoy the epic tale of Helen of Troy, right?

Now I can’t confirm the game developers intentionally designed the character to be so layered but either way, the character turned out intriguing.  They not only turned Tamamo-no-mae from evil blood-thirsty bitch to complex villain (well, they might be an anti-hero soon), but they also created a truly gender-neutral character!

The modernization of Tamamo-no-mae is unsurprising given how nearly every popular myth, legend, or fairytale around the globe has been retold to suit modern sensibilities.  Contemporary audiences expect well-rounded characters with relatable motivations, more complex backstories, and overall new experiences in even fanfiction and…mobile games.  Even writers and storytellers of old Edo updated and merged Tamamo with other famous fox spirits to suit contemporary tastes.  Hence, she is also Daji (1), Kayo (2), and many more as well as her original incarnation as the favorite courtesan of Emperor Toba of Japan who cursed him with illness.  

So now Tamamo-no-mae has a tragic past to explain why she is out to destroy Kyoto, at least.  After all, modern audiences with more feminist views would probably be less impressed with a character who is just evil for evil’s sake nor would they accept the explanation that yin (the feminine) is evil or not compatible with the human world.  But audiences now certainly love more explicitly explained motivation and tragic romances so it is only natural that the writers of Onmyoji concocted this backstory to cater to their players.

What is most intriguing to me is how gender-fluid Tamamo-no-mae turned out to be.  Officially listed in the Shikigami rosters as male he expresses overt feminine traits in his current incarnation and even biologically switches genders.  Therefore, I tend to label to Tamamo in the Onmyoji game with male pronouns.  In-game, Tamamo-no-mae has both male and female official skins despite being labelled as male in-game no matter how slutty his outfits get and how big his boobs get.  

In the current timeline, he has taken female form as a courtesan and is living up to his namesake.  He seems to perform very comfortably as a she and as a classic fox spirit.  But never in his conversations with the protagonist Seimei does he falter or visibly reacts when referred to as a man while in this form.  One can say in the present game timeline, he is so comfortable with his gender identity that he associates as both.

Now, traditionally, no matter what gender a fox is they are considered a feminine creatures so any fox spirit would be more inclined to take a female form and maneuver the world through intelligence and  manipulation.  Hence, they are renowned as seductresses and trickster spirits.  So the biologically male Tamamo-no-mae turning into a chick and dressing up as a courtesan to burn Kyoto to the ground in and of itself is not revolutionary at all.

However, the character’s attitude towards gender identity is complicated to say the least.  When he falls in love with a priestess, he presents himself as male to court her and have children with her.  Upon the death of his lover he transforms into a woman (specifically in her image) so he may care for their children.  It’s implied his children were very young when their mother died so he automatically took the form of a woman to breastfeed and provide a maternal figure, who he thought more vital for development, for his children.  On one hand, Tamamo adopts stereotypical gender roles but he is able to switch between them without any qualms without elevating or feeling particularly attached to either gender.  One can even say gender is not particularly important to his identity with how much he shifts back and forth while prioritizing other matters like romance, the family unit, and revenge.  Yet, it can be argued that gender roles are very important to him since he adopts them for specific purposes like courting and child-rearing.  (I’m sure being able to magically change biological sex is very helpful in this case but I digress)

Or perhaps, it’s simpler to say Tamamo-no-mae does whatever they want.  He’s a strikingly interesting character nonetheless!

-------

(1) Concubine of Emperor Zhou of Yin Dynasty who corrupted her lord husband and brought a reign of terror upon China until the Mandate of Heaven passed to Zhou Dynasty.  Her possession by the fox spirit (& actual handmaiden to Niwa so is she THAT evil?) also explains her personality split before & after entering Court. (2) Concubine of Banzoku who seduced her husband into massacring his people

[geniusjoereviews-blog]

A Review of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2

Major Spoiler Free!! (In case anyone cares)

           Now, I usually would take a more linear approach when it comes to playing through video games, but unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get my hands on a copy of COD 4 in time. All thanks to the one, the only, Gamestop. During that wait, my desire to jump into this long-fabled game overtook me, and I eventually caved to just grabbing my Xbox controller and starting the damn thing.

           Being semi-aware of the cultural relevance of this game gave me a tad bit of bias, but I believe I was able to surpass that since I have done a decent enough job of dodging spoilers.

           The intro starts with you in base camp, running you through a tutorial via the use of a military drill. All the controls are fluid and easy to learn, especially if FPS games are your bread and butter.

           The plot follows the mysterious and dangerous terrorist Makarov, as he tries to execute his plans of taking over both Europe and the West for Russia. I mean this is pretty cliche and samey in current terms and frankly in 2009 too. Although this can kind of come off as your traditional bad guy good guy shooter, I’d make the argument that Makarov is more or less a vehicle for the plot rather than a centerpiece. Yes, while he certainly has intense moments and intimidating behavior, the things that happen around him tend to pull you in more than just the character of Makarov himself. Unlike a character like Vaas (Far Cry 3), who’s personality and arc is the focus of the plot, in MW2, the environments that are created by Makarov’s schemes seem to be the more significant focus of the narrative.

           These environments are where Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 shines. From the intense chase down in the Favela to the exhilarating snow levels, the player is pushed through arenas that are unique, new, and well designed for their age. It kept me hooked.  For example, whenever I was about to log off, I’d sit through the following cut-scenes just to see where I’d be fighting next.

           While being a little bit dated, the gun-play is smooth, understandable, and stimulating. Outside of the shotguns, each firearm is very distinct and memorable. I specifically note this because, by the end of the game, I felt as though I had learned to use each of the guns in specific scenarios that would play to their strengths. My only argument against the shotguns in-game is that they tend to show their age much like the enemy AI.

           Enemy AI can easily be chalked up to either insanely fast or incredibly slow. Sometimes they’ll get stuck and become easy targets, but other times they’ll spin around in an instant and fill you with lead. This led to some confusion during my play-through as it would become frustrating when my well-timed strategy would be entirely shot down by an enemy with the reflexes of Robocop. Despite all the crap I’m giving the AI, I do have to admit that the game is nearly 11 years old, and my experience was no worse than if I was playing a non-AAA shooter.

           Ok, now its time to touch on the diversity issue. Knowing this was Call of Duty, I didn’t go in expecting the most inclusive game in the world, but I must say I’m a tad disappointed even for a game from 2009. There were so many golden opportunities to shine a light on different points of view from a world’s scale during the significant events in the game. For example, (Minor Spoiler!!!) during one of the missions in the middle of the game, you are tasked with getting your team to take over a Russian oil tanker that has been commandeered by Makarov’s forces. Here would be an excellent opportunity to bring in either Japanese or South Korean special forces to help the cause and add more depth to the conflict at hand. Unfortunately, though, the battle stays to being the Anglo-West versus Russia and loses out on some great opportunities to make the world and the game feel deeper. Even the token diversity characters have little to no meaning. Sgt. Ramirez, you play as for half the game, yet I can’t remember a single thing about him outside of his name being Ramirez. Hell, I don’t even think he had any voice lines. Once again, it’s just a blown opportunity, and I hope to see an improvement in the later titles.

           The first act may be bold, but the latter half of the game is truly the icing on the cake. By using twists and turns in the plot, Sledgehammer weaves one of the most stunning endings to a call of duty of game I’ve ever seen. The conspiracies of deception and truth run deep within the world, and it all culminates in a rapid-fire and bloody conclusion. While this game can periodically show its age and rust (lol), it is a fantastic roller coaster that you never want to get off.

[ducktracy]

57. i like mountain music (1933)

release date: june 10th, 1933

series: merrie melodies

director: rudolf ising

starring: sara berner (various), pinto colvig (yodeler/various), jack mercer (will rogers/various)

though the cartoon titles share the name of the songs they showcase, they can make for some pretty intriguing titles, like here. this is another installment of the books come to life series, pertaining to magazines instead.

open to a drugstore after closing. there are some wonderfully beautiful backgrounds as we view the interior, settling onto a magazine rack. all is quiet and peaceful... until a cowboy from a magazine titled “WESTERN THRILLER” tears a hole in the cover page with a spray of bullets.

he hops out of the book and motions for his dozing cowboy buddies to wake up, yelling “c’mon, fellers!” no further cue is necessary as they grab some instruments and launch into an instrumental solo of the titular song “i like mountain music”. an interesting array of gags: the double fisting gun slinging cowboy leaps onto a counter top and dances to the music, spinning around. his spurs cut a hole in the counter top and he plummets into the glass display case below, spraying himself with perfume. elsewhere, one of the cowboy musicians rides his accordion like a horse, making for some intriguing visuals. standard as these gags may be, the animation has come quite a ways since the beginning of our journey, and are thusly more enjoyable.

after receiving warm applause, the lead cowboy and some backup singers sing the vocals to the song. catchy and beautiful as always! a variety of spot gags accompany the song, such as polish pianist and prime minister ignacy paderewski playing the piano and singing along.

a caricature of eddie cantor (another looney tunes favorite, a whole cartoon dedicated to a chicken counterpart of himself with slap happy pappy) pops out of a magazine and pulls a violinists beard, shouting “look, jimmy! it’s rubinoff!” dave rubinoff was cantor’s violinist for one of his radio shows.

our saunters will rogers, actor slash vaudeville performer slash cowboy slash comedian. he makes his way towards a magazine covered in cobwebs dated october 1929, detailing the catastrophic stock market crash. he gingerly places a “NO SALE” sign by the magazine and says “well folks, all i know is what i read in the paper!” a group of babies from a baby magazine (mtself included) cheer him on and applaud.

some lovely animation as a figure skater from “dance magazine” leaps onto a mirror, tilting it horizontally beneath her weight and skating on it.

to top the gag off, a steady snowfall enhances her elegant routine... and it’s revealed to be a cowboy pouring talcum powder on her! highly predictable, but it got a good smile out of me regardless.

there are some babies waving jingle bells to the beat of the music... and members of an african tribe making clicking sounds to the music. not too fond of that one. otherwise a beautiful and amusing scene, but yeesh. as you can imagine, their depictions aren’t very savory.

the skater finishes her beautiful routine with a split, a group of toys applauding her (frequently reused from red-headed baby. i’ve noticed the amount of recycled animation has certainly dwindled within the past handful of shorts, which is always a refreshing sight to see!)

freshly picked from pagan moon, a hula girl dances to “it’s time to sing ‘sweet adeline’ again”, a chorus of steel guitar players backing her up in vocals. my affinity for steel guitars prevails, recycled as this scene may be.

a yodeler from travel magazine (who is actually pinto colvig! i’ll talk more about my thankfulness that this is the first merrie melody with some voice credits FINALLY at the end) yodels as he hops from cliff to cliff, mountain to mountain, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

the yodeling yokel sings “i like mountain music” from a woman sourced from the “college rumor” magazine. look at the difference in designs here! i know it falls under the category of “look at the sexy woman... and this man is ‘normal’ (not in this case but)”, but i can’t help but love the contrast in design anyways. very funny and intriguing. a caricature of ed wynn also lends his out of tune voice to the song as magazine creatures applaud the spectacle.

what’s a cartoon without a little nefarious doings, huh? a mobster ushers his cronies to follow him as he sneaks along the countertop. the screenshot doesn’t do it justice, but his toadies are actually walking at different intervals, but still synchronized! great animation as always. the musical synchronization is on par as always. sherlock and watson make an appearance, sherlock bending low and sniffing the ground like a dog for clues. words fail me in describing how much that amuses me.

the gangster’s plan becomes evident once he and his cronies make their way towards a cash register. the mobster pours some lighter fluid in a spray bottle, lighting it and using the makeshift blowtorch to weld a hole in the cashier and steal the contents inside.

edward robinson makes a cameo, grunting “they can dish it out, but they can’t take it” while the mobsters use a spoon to pour coins in a dish. good use of sound effects! robinson takes out a pair of guns and begins to shoot at the gangsters. one of the gangsters fires in retaliation, missing.

a phonograph from “RADIO magazine” calls out all the cop cars to stop the theft. even mussolini sends his italian policemen after the gangsters (ironic that even mussolini takes the role of one of the good guys, seeing the events of wwii, huh?).

a barrage of artillery is used against the thieves, such as gumball bullets and pins shot through a pencil sharpener (i love those pencil sharpener machine gun gags so much).

one of the gangsters (whose butt serves as a nice pin cushion) seeks refuge in a magazine with jean harlow on the front. quickly he learns to regret his decision, running from the pages as we get a ferocious shot of ping pong. not king kong, the star of the smash hit king kong released in march of 1933, heavens, no! ping pong!

ping pong barrels towards the camera and chases down the mobster. desperate for any source of shelter, the mobster dives into a glass. ping pong approaches a syrup tap and presses down on “razzberry”, the tap blowing an actual raspberry instead of any syrup. the gag is topped off as the mobster winced with each raspberry blown. the crowd celebrates his loss, and we get a rather interesting iris out—i’m not sure how to describe it. it’s like a double iris out. regardless, it’s pretty cool!

one of the more interesting merrie melodies for sure! i didn’t talk about the voice credits at the beginning—because i didn’t know they existed! halfway through this i consulted imdb for the soundtrack list, and saw that there were actually names available. sara berner would be one of the bigger voices behind looney tunes—almost like the female equivalent of mel blanc. bernice hansen would dominate the screen in the 30s with her wonderful baby voice (used to the best of its abilities in cartoons where she voices actual babies who turn out to be conniving little bastards, referring to porky’s naughty nephew and porky’s picnic. she’d also voice petunia, both tashlin’s “sexy” approach and clampett’s cute and childish approach!). pinto colvig is credited too, of course gaining notoriety for his role as the original goofy. jack mercer also voiced popeye and felix the cat. quite a list here!

anyway, enough about voices. this was a really entertaining cartoon! with the books come to life cartoons, you have a certain standard of what to expect (save for book revue LOL. that’s a trip and a half), so i was pleasantly surprised to see that this was about magazines instead. especially in a drugstore, there’s a lot more room to work with the setting. the animation was beautiful and the gags were on point, and the celebrity caricatures were drawn great. even if you don’t know who they are, you still get a good laugh. the only downfall would be the racist gag with the stereotypical african tribe members making clicking sounds... that speaks for itself. needs to be addressed (as all the blackface and stereotypical gags do), but doesn’t necessarily drain the short too much of its charm. overall, definitely worth a watch. paced nicely and very high energy and silly! just express caution at the clicking gag with the ice skating scene.

link!

[writingarchangels]

Hail the King (Nickifer)

Pairing: Nick/Lucifer

Characters: Nick, Lucifer, Castiel, Sam, Dean & Chuck

Word count: 1.5K (first chapter)

Total word count: WIP

Triggers: Dark fic, mild gore, blood, Nick has a hammer, major character death, (smut in a later chapter), loads of death and destruction - I think I got all now? Let’s just say that this is darker than canon and not for those faint by heart

Spoiler warnings: s14e19 Jack in the Box & s14e20 Moriah

Written for the ‘Dark!AU’ square of the Lucifer Bingo (the entire story, more or less) & the ‘Nick’ square of the Swan Song Bingo. A later chapter will be used for the ‘Wing Kink’ square of the Lucifer Bingo.

I also made an artwork to go by my story :) Added at the bottom

Mod tags: @swansongbingo @spnluciferbingo

Also this story WILL NOT be continued on Tumblr. I don’t post full stories on Tumblr. If you like to follow this story, subscribe to it on AO3 - I will add a link at the very bottom of this.

Rising from the fires of Hell with dark promises of death and vengeance, Nick sets out on a mission to burn down the world and bring his beloved angel back to his side.

Crowned the King of Hell and belonging to a new and powerful species, he faces down his enemies in order to archive his goals.

They had never seen anything like him before. Even the most skilled demon didn’t know how to handle him, and they groveled before this man who had lost all and didn’t know fear. Out of all the damned souls on the racks, he didn’t scream, he didn’t cry, he didn’t beg… he was just quiet with this feral smile on his face and eyes burning with unspoken promises of destruction and death. Every single demon in Hell knew that when he turned… he would bring a whole storm with him of the likes that no one had ever seen before.

He would force the world down upon his knees, the demons knew deep within their cursed beings. And they couldn’t wait for that moment to come.

Already they had begun to whisper his name amongst each other, whispers about the still crownless king of the fallen men. They spoke of his ruthlessness and his bloodlust, how he stood up against the Winchester’s and led them when no one else would while still being a mortal man, and how close he was to Lucifer and all remembered his willingness to bring him back - the Great Archangel who was the Father of All.

It wasn’t a secret that demons weren’t fond of humanity. But this one? Lucifer made him perfect.

And what a demon he would become, everyone knew.

~~

It’s time.

Time was fluid in Hell. An hour became days. Days turned into weeks, which became months and then years. Years until he turned and said goodbye to the last shreds of his humanity.

Nick’s hands balled into fists and a smile slowly formed on his lips as he felt the last of his soul burn away and turn into smoke and ashes. The newly created demon tilted up his head and breathed in deep as the screams of Hell rose up all around him. The scent of sulfur and ashes strong. Once he had been the tortured, and then he became the torturer. Looking up at the poor soul strapped up before him, he carelessly tossed his tools towards a demon standing close-by. He had better things to do and something to take care of. The demon gave him a wide-eyed look, bowing her head and stepping back when realizing what had happened.

Walking through the halls of Hell, all demons watched him go silently, following him almost doubtfully yet with a certain purpose to their steps. No one stopped him or asked any questions when Nick went towards the throne room.

He stopped right in front of the throne and took a second to look down at it before he swiftly turned around to face the demons who had followed him. Hundreds, perhaps even more. And they all looked up at him with their faces full of a dark hunger and expectation. “No one would object, would they?” Nick asked them. He didn’t yell yet his voice was heard all around the room. As he expected, no one spoke up and so Nick slowly sat down in the throne. The throne which had once belonged to Lucifer, Nick’s beloved.

Then his eyes flashed for the first time since he got turned and a murmur rose up from the room; rising and falling like the waves of the treacherous sea. For Nick’s demonic eyes weren’t like any seen before.

They were a demon black like the darkest abyss that stole away the light, yet his pupils glowed a fiery red much like Lucifer’s once did. And around the red was a circle of an icy blue, burning like cold angelic fire.

Lucifer’s influence went beyond perfecting Nick’s personality, it had touched his soul in ways no one would expect. Lucifer had some of Nick’s soul, and Nick always had some of Lucifer’s grace in him; they were bound together. When the fires of Hell burned away Nick’s soul, the angelic grace stayed untouched and instead fused together with the demonic energies, which created something new… something better.

Nick became part demon… and part Archangel.

And then, as if on cue, all of Hell sunk down on its knees and bowed before its new King. A king who was crowned in the blood and fire of the damned.

“So,” the Nephalem on the throne spoke with a smirk, “shall we begin?”

~~

The countries of the world fell one by one as the demons raised Hell on Earth. Being a Nephalem, Nick had opened the Gates to Hell rather easily. He opened all of them and allowed Hell to come pouring out, he emptied the pits, unleashed the Croatoan virus upon an unsuspecting world, and even managed to bend the Shedim to his will; allowing them to devour and slaughter as they pleased. The world didn’t stand a chance.

As a human, Nick was a nobody. He used to be bullied, neglected and beaten. Now it was his time to strike back and make them pay. But his demons had to obey one rule. One rule only.

“Stay clear of the Winchester’s.”

Nick wanted to be the one to claim their lives. He wanted to be the one to watch all the hope leave their eyes and crush their skulls in his bare hands. He wanted to take everything away from them, everything they ever cared about. He wanted to have them watch on as he destroyed the very world they loved so much. They should feel the despair and helplessness at being unable to stop anything - Nick wanted to completely shatter them beyond repair.

And he knew just the way to do that.

Having chosen a nice place to carry out the next step of his plan, the Nephalem nodded his head and summoned his powers. He had no more need of summoning circles or rituals… he could simply will it into existence and it would happen. This time was no exception.

Castiel appeared out of nowhere, right in front of him, looking as confused as it could get. “Hello, Castiel,” Nick casually greeted him as if speaking to an old friend.

The angel looked up, startled, but his expression quickly turned to horror when his eyes fell on the entity before him. At his otherworldliness… and the raw power coming off him. “Nick?” He tried. The Nephalem smirked in confirmation. “No, that cannot be. You died!” And then he noticed their surroundings; the mutilated bodies of all ages scattered around them, laid down to - ironically enough - form a Devil’s Trap. The horror and agony were still clear to see on their expressions, and then he saw the blood which covered Nick head-to-toe, the bloodied hammer laying by his feet, and he knew who had done this.

Nick clicked his tongue, shaking his head oh so slowly. “Oh Castiel,” he said, sounding almost pitiful, “you should know more than anyone that no one ever truly stays dead. I went to Hell… and became King.” His eyes flashed to their unusual coloring and he showed the Seraphim his immense wings; they were black-leathered like a bat’s, stealing away the light, yet the wing arms were covered in a pink plumage; the feathers fluffy and sparkling, and the top of his wings was covered in sleek and strong feathers.

Castiel looked horrified. “What are you?” He blurted out, taking a step back from the winged being with the eyes that unnerved him more than anything. As an angel, Castiel had seen many wars and battles, yet from all the terrors he had faced… nothing petrified him like Nick now did.

“Something new,” Nick shrugged, folding up his wings again as his eyes turned back to their usual blue. “Half-Archangel, half-demon. The demons call me a Nephalem, if it helps any.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Clearly it is not, or I wouldn’t be here,” Nick replied, placing his hands in the pockets of his military jacket the demons gave him. Castiel took that moment to jump forward and stab Nick with the angel blade he always carried around.

Just for the blade to shatter when it as much as touched Nick’s skin. The Nephalem arched up a single eyebrow. “You should have known that wouldn’t have worked,” he said. “I am not an angel, Castiel. I am something more.”

“What do you want from me?” The Seraphim asked, stepping back even further. Nick could sense his fear, and he enjoyed every second of it.

Nick held up his hand and played with his lips as he stared the scared angel down. “You are a message. To the Winchester’s,” he told him. Castiel’s face paled when reality settled in and he turned around, planning on running away, but Nick reappeared in front of him with a flutter of his mighty wings. “You cannot run from me with those clipped wings of yours,” he said, “don’t worry. I will keep you recognizable enough.”

Snapping his fingers once, Castiel’s grace exploded within his body in a burst of light. And then the angel dropped dead. Kneeling before him, Nick ripped open his trench coat and shirt and went to work, carving a message into his flesh for the Winchester’s to see with an angel blade he whisked into existence, right before he sends Castiel’s body off to appear right in front of them.  

I-A-M-B-A-C-K

~~~~~~

An artwork of Nephalem!Nick. Took me 3 hours with IbisPaint X and the total layer count is 25. I’m pretty proud of it :) I love his eyes and the design of those wings XD

I got bored so I made a bonus artwork lol This is like an anatomy sketch-thingy of Nick’s wings? I quite like them. This one took me about an hour, maybe?

Fun fact: Nick originally wasn’t supposed to be a Nephalem in this story - just some kind of demon XD But I don’t think my story quite wanted that and then this happened :’) It got a life of its own, man

Tag list: @luciferstempest @gabrielsbackbitches @jgvfhl @staycejo1 @blakechaos08 @qslucid @i-miss-balthazar @franthehorsegir

Asked to be tagged for this specific fic: @humongouscandycoffee (if you wish to stay on my tag list, just ask :)

(I’m too lazy to add my Bingo cards. So deal with it)

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED AS WELL, JUST ASK!!

AO3 link to continue reading

So far it’s only the first chapter tho. But more is coming pretty soon

[sunkissedpages]

Under the Weather

Harrison Osterfield x Reader

A/N: Wrote this because I’m sick as heck and really in the mood to cuddle with a certain cute British actor so here ya go.

Summary: You wake up sick one day, but avoid telling your boyfriend, Harrison because you know he’d leave work to take care of you.

Warnings: little bit of swearing, lot a bit of fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

The thermometer beeped loudly, the noise adding to the already insufferable headache you had. It wasn’t a good sign. You took it out of your mouth to look at it. 101.2 degrees. You sighed. You were supposed to have a big meeting at work today, but that wasn’t going to happen anymore.

You flopped back onto the bed dramatically. You’d already woken up kind of late, and now you couldn’t go into work at all. If your office didn’t have a policy about not coming in when you’re sick, you’d be at that meeting, half dead, presenting your pitch for a new exhibit in January. You’d spent weeks researching artists and carefully hand-selecting pieces that you thought would compliment all the other art in the west wing nicely, but your portfolio might as well go in the trash now. The exhibit was probably going to go to some perky new hire who thought modern abstract was the height of art itself. You huffed in frustration and buried yourself further into the covers.

Other people might have enjoyed a sick day off from work, but you loved your job behind the scenes at the Met, designing and setting up new exhibits to showcase. And of course today had to be the day you came down with something, the day everyone in your department was competing to head the design for their chosen exhibit.

You forced yourself to stop wallowing and actually make the call into work to tell them you weren’t coming. You thought about texting Harrison, who’d left earlier this morning to go shoot for his new movie, but refrained. If he knew you were sick, he’d make an excuse to come home and take care of you. You were already missing out on being at a job you loved, you didn’t want him to feel obligated to do the same.

Besides, you could take care of yourself. You’d been doing it for years before you met Haz. You weren’t even feeling that bad, at least that’s what you told yourself. You managed to get yourself out of bed and onto your feet so that you could grab some aspirin from the medicine cabinet and Gatorade from the fridge.

The pills were difficult to swallow with your sore throat but you managed to get them down without breaking too much of a sweat. Everything ached and you felt yourself shivering. You knew it was probably best to just go back to sleep and let the meds kick in, so you turned up the heat in the apartment and curled up in bed.

A few hours later when you woke up, you weren’t feeling any better. Another go with the thermometer told you your temperature was now 101.3. You popped some more pills and microwaved some chicken noodle soup since you hadn’t had anything to eat all day. While you had been asleep you’d missed a lot of messages from your boyfriend who was understandably getting concerned.

9:38 am Haz: You’ll never believe what I just got to do :)

9:45 am Haz: ....

9: 45 am Haz: I got to do a stunt with flips

11:23 am Haz: Y/N??

11:56 am Haz: lol are u mad at me?

11:57 am Haz: we weren’t fighting when I left this morning

12:14 pm Haz: seriously Y/N is something wrong?

12:18 pm Haz: ok if you don’t reply in the next 5 min I’m calling you

You didn’t want him to call and hear how sick you were so you quickly texted back sorry babe busy day and went back to fixing your soup. You felt a twinge of guilt for lying to him, but busy could mean anything. Like right now, you were busy with your lunch.

You set everything on a tray and brought it back to bed, having exerted all of your strength on preparing the food. You couldn’t be bothered to sit at a table to eat it. Once you were in bed you turned on the Disney Channel to Kim Possible reruns. Watching cartoons when you were sick always comforted you. You chuckled to yourself as you looked at the spread in front of you. Gatorade, soup, and, rainbow goldfish crackers. It looked like something you would eat for lunch in elementary school. You snapped arranged the goldfish into the shape of a heart and snapped a picture of your lunch for your instagram story, including Kim Possible playing in the background. You added the caption “just another day in the third grade” before posting it and actually eating your soup.

The warm broth felt good on your throat and you abandoned both the chicken and the noodles in favor of the broth. The crackers went untouched too. You knew you should be eating real food, but you had no appetite. At least you were getting fluids.

As soon as you set your tray on the floor in preparation for taking another nap, you phone started to ring. You frowned at it. It was Harrison. You coughed a few times to get it out of your system before answering.

“Hello?” you asked in your best healthy-person voice.

“You’re sick aren’t you,” he accused. No greeting or anything. Still, just the sound of his voice almost made you tear up. You wanted nothing more to be in his arms at this very second, but you wouldn’t let yourself be selfish.

You stifled a cough and lied “....no.”

Harrison laughed bitterly over the phone. “I saw your instagram story, Y/N. You’re not at work, you’re having soup and Gatorade, and you’re watching cartoons. You hate soup.”

You bit back a curse. Your boyfriend knew you too well. “I’m just not feeling the best, that’s all.”

“You lied to me. You said you were busy.”

From over the phone you couldn’t tell if he was truly angry or not. “I...was.” Another lie.

“You sound awful. I’m coming home,” he declared. You heard rustling in the background and you assumed he was packing his things up into his backpack.

“No!” you protested, coughing impulsively from straining your voice. Harrison was quiet on the other end. You cleared your throat. “I’m fine, just a little under the weather.”

“You wouldn’t have stayed home from work if that was the case. You had your pitch meeting today.”

You laid back on the bed in defeat. Damn your synced calendars, damn your body for betraying you, damn you caring boyfriend, damn it all. You felt tears pricking in the corners of your eyes.

“You don’t have to come home, Haz, I can take care of myself.”

When he spoke again, his voice had softened. “I know, baby, but I want to. We were almost done today anyway.” He half chuckled. “I know I’ve only been gone for a few hours, but I miss you.” You could feel your heart clench in your chest. “Unless you really don’t want me to come home...” He waited. You were silent. “Hello?”

“I do,” you felt your entire body relax as you said the words, your voice coming out even hoarser than before.

“Hm?”

“I do want you to come home, Haz,” you admitted finally. “I just didn’t want to be selfish and pull you away from work.”

“They don’t need me here anyway,” he scoffed

Even in your feverish state you rolled your eyes. “You’re the lead of the film”

“Co-lead,” he corrected you. “I’m on my way now.” You felt yourself smiling weakly. “Get some rest, and I’ll be home when you wake up.”

You woke up to warm arms wrapping themselves around your shivering body. A lazy smile made its way to your face and you craned your head around to look at your boyfriend. Harrison kissed your forehead gingerly and smiled back at you.

“You’re burning up.”

“Thank you captain obvious.”

“Not even the plague could stop you from being sarcastic, could it?” he shook his head, reaching over you to grab the thermometer off the nightstand. You giggled and snuggled further into him. “I should have known this morning. The bed was warmer than usual, I just thought I was hot.”

“Yeah you are,” you said weakly and Harrison smirked in amusement.

“Here open up,” he said and stuck the thermometer in your mouth.

“That’s what she said,” you joked and winked with effort.

“My god, she’s gone delusional,” Harrison laughed and nestled his head onto your shoulder to watch the numbers on the thermometer.

It started to beep and he took it from your mouth with wide eyes. “101.2, that’s not good.”

“Hm, it went down.”

“Y/N Y/L/N you’re unbelievable,” Haz gaped.

“What?”

“Next time you tell me you’re just ‘feeling a little under the weather’ I’m coming home immediately. You should have told me how sick you are.”

“I know, but I knew you’d come home and I didn’t want you to miss work,” you sighed.

He rubbed your arm comfortingly. “One day isn’t going to kill anyone, and I’m home because I want to take care of you.” You smiled, blinking up into his blue eyes sleepily. “When you get hungry again I’ll make you some grilled cheese.”

You felt yourself falling asleep, but grasped his hand in affirmation. Grilled cheese was his specialty. “Get some sleep,” he encouraged when he saw you fighting to stay awake. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 32

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: None

A/N: I swear this is fluffy. Maybe... Idk... Maybe I don’t even know what that really means lol. Either way, it put me in my feels. 

Also, please forgive me if there’s a slight lull after this chapter. I’m a little bogged down with work but who knows, maybe inspiration will strike.  

Tags are open!

“I’ve gotta take care of some things today,” Bucky says over his second cup of coffee. You’ve drug the dining chairs to the balcony and are watching the sunrise, it’s chilly but pleasant, the peace feeling so far from the scene that took place here the night before.

“Ok,” it was such a vague statement you feel awkward prying for details. Nervously you make the liquid in your cup spin in a slow counterclockwise motion.

“It’s nothing bad, promise.” When you look over at him he smiles, “Just a day labor thing I pick up every now and then.”

“Oh!” You honestly hadn’t thought much about how he made money.

He laughs, “We can’t all be master thieves.”

It’s a joke, it stings though. You had never wanted to be a thief, had worked your ass off so you didn’t have to be. Of course, he didn’t know that. “You know thievery isn’t my main skill set.”

He squeezes your thigh gently where his left hand’s been resting as if to assure you he didn’t assume it was. “What is?”

“Well if we go off my bachelor's degree, costume design with a nice and useless sociology minor.” His brows raise. “Didn’t know your girl was college educated did ya?” It slips out, something you’d just say casually before, ‘your girl,’ but you know it means something else here.

Those eyes narrow a bit, a smile playing on his lips, but he says nothing about it. You divert, “Not that either of those is worth shit to me now…” you think. “Maybe thievery is currently my main skill set.” You shrug.

“Nothing wrong with doing what you have to.” He looks out at the lightening sky, “I was always good with my hands. Easy enough for me to find something under the table that doesn’t ask many questions.”

“Did you used to do stuff like that?” You look at his profile, lit by the rose gold morning his eyes seem grey. Something like a smile lifts the corner of his mouth, he looks down and the few strands of hair too short to be pulled up fall into his face.

“Yeah,” he tilts his head to look at you, “dock work, construction, anything that would pay really.” He flexes his right fist, “Even entered a few boxing tournaments, won too.”

“Boxing?”

“Yup. What else was an Irish Catholic kid supposed to be good at?” He picks up his mug and drains it. “Even taught Steve how to fight. Lord did I regret that later.”

You’re reminded of what he said last night about Steve, it had bothered you, “Can I ask you a question?” You’re hesitant, afraid to open some old wound, “About Steve…”

He looks at you, studying for a second, “Sure, can’t promise how well I can answer…”

“If it’s too personal I understand…”

That gentle laugh, “Nah, it’s just that… I just don’t have it all back yet is all. There’re still some blank spots.” You nod, pausing, weighing the pros and cons of posing this. “But,” he says, ��talking to you seems to… help somehow.” His smile is far more impressive than any sunrise.

You sigh and dive in, “Last night… you said he did something stupider than dying…”

“Yeah.”

“What… exactly did he do?” You take a sip of coffee.

“He went and became Captain fucking America.” You choke on your mouthful and spew into your mug coughing. He laughs, big and ringing. “Don’t drown on me.”

“I just. What?!” You wipe coffee from your chin.

“I thought you knew that. You went through my books on Friday.”

“Yeah. But, I honestly didn’t look that far into it, got too freaked that you and I had the same taste in pizza and flung the thing across the room.”

He laughs, “What, hundred-year-old assassins can’t have good taste?”

“Look it was a lot to wrap my head around in a short amount of time.” You say jovially smiling at him, “I was focused on the information about the guy I chained to the wall, not the other characters.”

“Tried to chain anyway,” he winks at you. “Guess we didn’t make it into your history books.”

You shrug, “I vaguely recall some mention of Captain America from school but to be honest the whole golden boy image didn’t exactly catch my attention.” He nods in agreement and before he can say anything something else occurs to you, “Wait!” You glare at him, “How in the sweet holy fuck did I remind you of Captain America of all people!?”

He shakes his head smiling, holding up his hands, “No. No. I said you reminded me of Steve. Steve Rodgers and Captain America aren’t synonymous. At least not to me.” A little laugh escapes him, “Steve was a 90-pound stick of a kid who could hardly breathe most days but he’d be damned if he let that stop him from trying to face down every asshole in Brooklyn.” He seems to darken a bit, “Captain America was a propaganda poster boy to sell war bonds.”

That was the image of Captain America you had in your head. Cheesy star spangled images from some battered public school history text. Then less overworked but none the less poster worthy images of him after The Battle of New York you saw when you were catching up on everything you’d missed while Hydra had you. Nothing in there felt like anything someone could connect to you.

That distant look is on his face and he leans forward resting on his knees, “I remember… seeing him for the first time after. My unit had been captured, Hydra had us, they were already trying to make… him.” The sound of metal shifting, “Steve barreled in there like some fucking berserker, against orders, to pull me out.” You like Steve Rodgers already.

“He was huge, in comparison to the kid I left in Brooklyn anyway. I couldn’t believe it, thought I was hallucinating. But no, that was him. Same bullheaded ass I had known most of my life, running into fights he didn’t have a chance in hell at winning, no regard for his own safety, just now he had the body to back it all up.”

His fists flex. “I was furious. Steve was supposed to be safe, unfit for combat, and the only thing I had to worry about was him getting the shit kicked out of him at home. Now I had to worry about Nazis and Hydra and… I couldn’t keep him safe from all that.”

A hollow laugh slips out, “Guess that’s always been a thing of mine…” He looks at you, trying to smile, sitting up, “Trying to keep people I care about safe even when they’re too stubborn to let me.”

Not sure what a good response to that is you slip your hand into his metal palm and lean into his solid shoulder. For a second he doesn’t move, and you wonder if this is too much contact, then his hand wraps around your own. Slowly he buries his nose in the fluff of your hair and breathes deep. Silence wrapping around you both.

Once the pinks and oranges of the sunrise fade to blue skies you head inside. Bucky goes straight for the closet and begins rummaging around without a word. You fill both mugs, wrapping your cold fingers gratefully around the warm porcelain.

He walks back and holds his right-hand open, palm up, “Here.” At first, you don’t see what’s there but then, laying flat, there's a key. Tentatively you lift it with your power and set his mug in his hand. The key hovers for a second before you pluck it from the air, expression questioning. “It’s not like I expect you to stay locked in here like it’s some ivory tower while I’m out,” he flashes you a smile.

A key. To this place. To his place. Suddenly it feels heavier in your palm.

His eyes are on the coffee in his mug as he says, “This is… well if you want it to be…” He looks up at you with those goddamn gorgeous sapphires and says, “your home too.”

You wonder if he knows what those words really mean to you. It may have been a while ago but he had a home once, one with a family who he loved, a city that was always his. Home was always so fluid a concept for you. Constantly shifting, crumbling, or being ripped away. Home felt like love, a thing you wanted deep into your bones but that you were terrified of because it could be gone so quickly. Still…

“I…” Despite your efforts your voice cracks, betraying your emotion. Instead, you just nod. He lets out a breath, like he had been scared of your answer, sets his cup on the counter and plucks yours from your hand.

The look on his face is so happy and relieved. When he pulls you into his arms you feel safe and warm, and wanted. All the things home should be. You realize that this place is one thing but it’s him, he is home. And goddamnit you would fight like hell against anything, even the ghosts in his head and your own, to keep him.

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @saundrasays  @breezy1415 @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets  @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barness @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius   @auskitty   @katecolleen @handplucked @piensa-bonito @darkdragonphoenix @issanitydead @thestorydetective @buckysstar @wintersoldierswhore @greyeyedsmile14 @watchoutforfrostbite @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @meg-asaur @jewelofwinter

[roseate7]

(my no good utterly pretentious reaction to Geno’s interview in Russian wherein he expresses himself in a way we non-Russian-speaking fans rarely get to see and I go into an absolute asjafjsaghjas)

I just think about how lonely Geno has been in with such a hostile spotlight so young, the kind of thing I haven’t seen since the first defectors. Growing and maturing and then attending a draft alongside another Russian phenom bred to be lauded along his journey from league to league, by comparison Geno’s own hype and success ended up on a journey that paralleled those first Russian pioneers to NHL hockey more than any other player of his generation. In particular, a stark almost flip-opposite to the one his fellow draft alumnus experienced.

The NHL that Geno had begun to dream about joining in his teens had developed a different relationship to Russian players since his very early childhood. It was a stage set almost perfectly for the star rising elsewhere who would one day become The Russian Superstar in commercial terms and popularity that not even the Russian greats before him had managed to be. What’s relevant in particular is that Ove is famously known as an un-Russian type player, and was made so more or less by design. His destiny was patently to go out and “conquer” (to use his and his press’ patter) the NHL. His playing style is much more that of a North American power forward and the C*pitals’ hierarchy that places his scoring chances as top priority is the perfect environment for his style to flourish. He is the THE superstar, even having been mentored by Fedorov during his tenure with Washington. All and sundry around Ove have been driven toward his accomplishments. (Fed himself called Ove’s style not at all typical for a Russian. Ove’s falling out with his Russian coach at Sochi in some part to this.) Btw I know tumblr tends to be hyper sensitive and reactionary about this kind of thing, so just a reminder that these are facts that are *constantly* corroborated every year by every sports pundit and player, including respected colleagues and friends of Ove’s. The overwhelming majority of C*ps fans, and the entirety of the franchise, are perfectly happy with it! And thanks to getting a Cup into the bargain, very proud to continue it. To paraphrase him, if it never breaks then don’t “fix” it!

I bring it up with regards to How Very Russian Indeed Geno is by contrast, and now especially amid the many Ov*chkin-ized Russian NHLers. It marks a turning point in how Russian players in the NHL are presented and interact.

Geno in no small way represents the Old Gods. He’s got far more in common with Alexander Nevsky than Alexander Ov*chkin, if I can be allowed to be so pretentious and very historically loose. His choice to keep the A on another C’s team rather than seek out his own personal superstardom elsewhere - which would absolutely have been the parallel to Ove’s, as their close draft class status has proven repeatedly through the years - is Russian to the core. The desire to reflect on his own position in a club in terms of broader, collective success is - albeit to a North American anyway! - achingly Russian.

The many old world fables his story resonates with come right out of Russian stories: rags-to-riches; daring defection from his home country; from “jewel in the crown” of home to persecution as a perceived traitor; dramatic arrival to his new foreign city, including the first meeting with the young phenom he had followed since their childhood; the cruel and abrupt challenge of faith in himself at his first appearance on NHL ice; from cultural and linguistic isolation to half of a dual leadership with one of hockey’s greatest players on a three-time Cup winning team. It’s all there in fascinating, ever-revealing detail.

The Russian Five were my personal fascination when I was a teen early in my hockey fan days and the mention of them in this interview reminds me of how, in just one player, I have seen that same Old Russian magic revive again. The fierce loyalty to the new guard he belongs to but that unmistakable, slightly haunted aura of traveling with his heritage in everything he does is a lot more of what I was used to seeing in Russian NHLers than the more casual, comfortable relationships Russian players have with North American media and fans nowadays. I know we all have to be cautious about the Russian Bear analogies, especially as they relate to the media- and opposition-feeding frenzy that seeks to vilify him as having some sort of pathological level of rage and lack of control. Especially when spoken at the same time as North American players with blatant anger issues are coddled into fantasies of ‘simply doing their job’ good guys or flat out victims themselves. Geno has pride and a hockey temper, but it only looks out of proportion to the average pride and pugilism of any other player targeted for aggression, by those who don’t feel that he’s presenting himself in a way that is palatable to them. Most modern Russian NHLers return home and relax into very different personalities than the big smiles, laugh-along, don’t-talk-about-anything-serious versions of themselves that keep NW fans and media happy. Even if they find themselves in the box far more often or just as much as Geno, if the public already considers them a friend then much is forgiven. No armchair psychology of “anger issues” needed, no matter how bad the high stick or how many PIM. (and I won’t even get started on who ends up staying on referees radars more often than others, because it absolutely happens but most folks stay in denial unless it serves their own purpose)

As for the nature of his pride, Geno himself says that staying on a team he believes in is worth more than his own C. It’s worth taking a cut in money to help cap space. It’s worth being on the second line, and using his intelligence and vision to work with who he’s given to form his own leadership. And that leadership becoming seen by all as an equal and vital part of the captaincy - no “alternate”. With any other captaincy than Sid’s, Geno would absolutely have left to find his own rightful dominion. But for the grace of Sid being born and made with “hockey is a team-first and team-only effort” as his defining characteristic, Pittsburgh would have lost 71 and seen him become number one elsewhere… and very likely winning his own Cups. Geno’s loyalty to the city and franchise does not at all end or limit itself to Sid, but it absolutely begins with him. One superstar’s personality kept the other on his team, and that other’s personality is why he stayed on the other’s.

The Russian Five felt like “fish put back in the water” when put together. Geno has used his own tenacity, bravery and ingenuity as a generational superstar to find a swift current with that most Canadian of archetypes, Sidney Crosby. The combined effort is perfectly fluid, perfectly aligned, with not even a faint whisper of friction or disturbance in thirteen years. There have been and will continue to be many dynamic duos in hockey: there’s a reason why this one is called unique. They’re both natural born captains and each chasing each other within a delicate margin along the record books. They absolutely work well together on the ice, but genuinely operate best when leading their own lines. Maybe psychologically there’s an argument about how much they lean on each other, but I think it’s much more to their credit to point out that Geno found himself in familiar waters with a fellow leader who shares exactly the same principles as him. Side by side, and more than once proving capable of taking the team on their own back when one is out injured.

It’s a big part of why a major club like Pittsburgh has made the often baffling decisions throughout these thirteen years to take on hard-luck cases or players nearing the back end of their careers. A team whose leadership is founded and successful on load-sharing and listening is the perfect environment for players who still have the fight and/or the skill but who have lost their way. Or perhaps aged out of their old club. All you have to do is your best and the Pens will try to find you. But if you want to be the superstar or leap ahead of the guys who’ve done more time, you won’t find any sympathy in Crosby and Malkin.

And it’s just so poetic that Geno’s story, told by himself so beautifully by himself in this interview, is one of heart and good faith overcoming adversity after adversity. And that he did it by making wise decisions for himself, while holding himself unnervingly well in response to his own feelings of guilt and responsibility. And how his success in Pittsburgh has been to make the smart decision about staying with a club because of his faith in it. And that his personal successes and pride are the result of endurance and patience rather than a succession of fireworks, or even getting the credit he deserves.

Sid absolutely represents the ‘anything is possible through hard work’ and the more nurturing side of the Pens’ leadership. But Geno is the steely resolve and quiet rumble leading to powerful force that bears aloft even unlikely rosters to their absolute best.

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(asterisks and spelling changes used because I don’t know how tumblr searches tags anymore and I’m being careful - if you still somehow found this and get huffy about what I said wrt Ove then swallow it down and move along. Nothing I said is untrue or considered an insult even by Caps hockey pundits. It’s all factual and highly relevant in terms of how NHL hockey has changed for Russian players. Don’t blame me for watching hockey for decades and stating what absolutely everyone else does, including the Caps coaching and management! Their style is not under my control lol.)

[hanscom]

💛-mermaids? Idk how specific i need to be but for the losers club lol

Everyone who’s from Derry has heard about what lives in the quarry.

There’s not a name for them. Those who are unimaginative (or perhaps just lazy) call them mermaids, but that’s not what they are, not really. Mermaids are supposed to live in the ocean - not in some small, dingy, manmade lake.

People come from all over to see them. All sorts of shops have set up downtown: quaint seafood restaurants with voluptuous, finned ladies as their logo. Gift shops with miniature blown-glass keepsakes. A visitor center with a half-dozen pamphlets, each with their own suggestions on the best way to see the creatures. Late at night, some say. Early morning, say others.

Personally, Richie thinks it’s all a big hoax. A tourist trap to drag people to Derry, to blind them with enough supernatural hope so they can’t see what an awful place it really is. They bring their children and entertain them with a few good hours of creature-hunting, and then the kids inevitably get bored of finding nothing, and so they move on. But not before they spend a few dollars in the McDonalds drive thru and at the gas pumps on the edge of town. These people keep Derry alive. They’re paying for a lie, but they don’t have to know that.

Richie works as a tour guide, of sorts. Mostly he keeps an eye on the quarry and picks up litter and occasionally saves a kid or two from drowning. He hates his job. He’s good at his job. He’s been doing this since he was sixteen. He’s almost twenty-eight now. Twelve years of this shit, and he’s never once seen them, these quarry creatures.

He used to believe in them. Every Derry kid did. They all got caught up in the magic, too young and dumb to understand that dull look in their parents’ eye, the way they didn’t quite believe what they were saying. That’s the way he talks now. The parents give him sympathetic half-smiles, but the kids latch on to his every word. He feels bad, sometimes, deceiving them, but it’s just harmless fun. Like Santa Claus.

It’s a Wednesday night in the middle of October, one of the slowest nights of the entire year. School is just starting to get serious. Kids aren’t worried about mermaids when midterms are coming up. Richie hasn’t seen a soul all day, but he kind of likes it like that. It’s peaceful down on the water when no one’s around. Cold already, but not freezing yet. Quiet. Sometimes the wind dips down into the quarry and makes a loud, hollow, miserable noise, but the air is pretty still now.

Which is weird, because he just heard a splash.

That happens, sometimes. There are fish in the quarry, and small turtles. But that sounded sort of big. Well, whatever. Maybe something rolled off the cliff and fell in.

Or maybe someone’s trespassing. Best to check. Just in case.

His boat is a little wooden single-person kayak. It floats perfectly on the water, used to his weight. He’s gotten good at rowing it, even when it’s stormy out and the water acts up. It’s calm now, but there’s that sound again. Splash! Far off to his left. The water ripples.

“Someone out there?” he yells, feeling stupidly like an actor in some bad horror film, the one that dies in the first ten minutes before the good shit even starts. He turns his phone’s flashlight on and casts the light onto the water. It reflects, suddenly and unexpectedly, off of someone’s face.

Richie jumps back so hard he almost tips the kayak over. A gasp tears out of his chest, raw-sounding. The person in the water flinches away just as hard, backpedaling in the water, surprisingly graceful. He has nothing to push off of but he somehow manages to dart back a few good feet, out of reach of the light cast by Richie’s phone.

“You’re not supposed to be swimming here,” Richie calls. He sounds braver than he feels. What kind of lunatic goes for a dip in mermaid-infested waters? Not that there really are any mermaids. But this guy can’t know that. He’s not a local. Richie has never seen him before.

The boy doesn’t say anything. Richie only knows he’s still there because he can hear the gentle way he’s treading water. His movement makes small waves lap quietly against the side of the kayak.

“You have to leave,” Richie tries, more forcefully this time. “Don’t make me call the cops.”

Richie can just barely see movement outside the perimeter of his flashlight’s reach. He leans in, trying to make his eyes adjust, and then jumps back again when the guy pops up out of the water, suddenly a few inches from him.

“Jesus!” he gasps, clutching his chest. “Stop doing that!”

The man smiles. “I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t sound very sorry. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie mutters, his heart still pounding. “Laugh it up. You done messing around now? You’ve played your prank, let’s go.”

The man bobs in the water. His movement is fluid. Seamless. He’s clearly a strong swimmer. Maybe he was one of those weird kids who always wanted to be a mermaid, and now he’s trying to come home to his real family or something. The thought almost makes Richie laugh.

He doesn’t say anything. A handful of strange, silent seconds pass. “Hello?” Richie says eventually, waving his hand in front of the man’s face, careful not to get too close. “Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you,” the man says calmly. “You’re very loud.”

Well, this guy is certainly not the first person to ever say so. “And you’re very quiet,” Richie points out. “You’re the one trying to sneak up on me.”

“I wasn’t trying to scare you,” the man says. “I thought you had left. You’re usually gone by now.”

The hair on the back of Richie’s neck stands up. This guy knows his schedule? Jesus. This might be worse than he thought.

Maybe he looks as terrified as he feels, because the man stares at him, cocking his head to the side. “Is something wrong?” he asks. “You don’t look like yourself.”

Fuck. Oh, fuck. “I’m fine,” Richie says faintly. How the hell is he gonna get out of this one? He’s a strong rower, but this guy looks like maybe he’s a stronger swimmer.

“Are you sure?” The man’s eyes are wide and dark, deceptively gentle. He floats closer to the boat and puts his hand on the side of it. Richie is half-afraid he’s going to tip it over, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “You look pale, Richie.”

Richie’s heart jams up in his throat. “You know my name?” he squeaks out, pathetically frightened and unable to hide it.

This strange man smiles a strange smile, like he’s humoring Richie. “Of course I do,” he says. “You’re the protector.”

The protector…? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

“Dude, I just do what I get paid for,” he says, trying to sound calm and convincing. “I’m not, like, the guardian of the quarry. I don’t give a shit what happens to it.”

The man looks strangely upset by that. His face crumbles into a displeased frown. “That’s not true. You protect it.”

Richie shakes his head. “The only thing I do is make sure no one litters and that people stay in the designated swimming area,” he argues.

The man nods eagerly. “Exactly. You keep us safe.”

Us…?

Richie stares at him. “The only thing I keep alive in here is the wildlife. So unless you’re part fish, I’m not protecting you.”

Something twitches on the man’s face, something both amused and exasperated. “Isn’t that what your people say we are?” he asks. “Part fish?”

God. Oh, God. This guy is cracked.

“Are you trying to say,” Richie says, his voice shaking just the slightest bit, “that you’re a mermaid?”

The man laughs. “Of course not,” he says, and Richie would be relieved except he follows it up with, “That’s not what we’re called.”

Richie probably shouldn’t encourage this delusion, but he can’t resist. “What are you called then?”

The man considers the question. “Eddie,” he finally decides.

Richie’s eyebrows furrow. “You’re called Eddies?”

The man shakes his head. “No. I’m called Eddie.”

“Oh,” Richie realizes. “That’s your name.”

Eddie nods happily. “There are others,” he says, more talkative now, perhaps pleased that Richie is humoring him. “Stan and Bill and Bev and Mike and Ben.”

“Those are pretty normal names,” Richie points out.

Eddie smiles. “You couldn’t pronounce my real name,” he says. “We stole these names from humans. We didn’t think you would mind.”

Richie nods like he understands. God, he has a headache. He just wants to get this nut out of the water so he can go home. “Where are you friends?” he asks, just in case.

“Oh, they’re hiding,” Eddie says dismissively. “They’re scared of you.”

Richie almost laughs. Of all the ludicrous ideas, that one almost beats out mermaids. “Why? I’m not scary.”

“I know that,” Eddie says. “You’re good. But we’re not supposed to talk to humans.”

“Why not?” Richie asks.

Eddie levels him with a flat look like it’s a stupid question. “Because they want to hurt us,” he says. His voice doesn’t sound playful anymore. Instead it’s melancholy. Heart-wrenching. Ancient, like he’s actually much older than he appears. “They come here to find us, pretending they would be happy just to see us. But all they really want is to hunt us.” He peers at Richie and his expression suddenly clears. “You’re not like that, though.”

Maybe this is all a dream. Maybe Richie never really woke up this morning. Maybe he fell and knocked himself out and and this is all in his subconscious. Maybe this is a feverish hallucination. Maybe he’s dead and this is some really weird afterlife.

He pinches himself, just to be sure. Yep, still hurts. Eddie watches the movement, looking confused, and then understanding passes over his face.

“You don’t believe me,” he says. He doesn’t sound upset about it, but Richie is still half-afraid he’s some kind of lunatic ready to snap, so he quickly shakes his head.

“Of course I believe you!” he protests, but he must not sound very convincing, because Eddie latches both hands onto the side of the boat. He’s going to tip it, Richie realizes frantically and he tries to brace himself for the cold water. But nothing happens.

Well, nothing except that Eddie lets his body float away from the body, so that it’s almost horizontal with the surface. His head and chest are still above water, held up by his grip on the kayak, and his back and shoulders are strong and muscled and bare, but Richie isn’t looking at that.

Richie isn’t looking at that because there, past his waist, where there should be legs, there’s… there’s a tail. It’s long and wet and shining, reddish-brown, flecked with gold. It is scaly and thick and pulsing gently, keeping Eddie’s body afloat. It starts somewhere near where his hips should be, vaguely flesh-colored at first, and ends with a fin, split and delicate-looking. It comes up out of the water and then falls back with a heavy splash, and then disappears underneath the surface as Eddie rights himself again.

Eddie, for his part, looks rather smug. “I told you,” he says.

Richie opens his mouth to say something. Anything. But slowly, steadily, his vision starts to blur and go black. He doesn’t realize he’s passing out, and there’s no time to save himself from falling back into the water. He hears a shout and then a splash, and then, right before everything goes totally black, he feels someone grab him, solid and strangely warm, holding him up, keeping his face from sinking below the surface.