#I am screaming thank God for the ability to art rather than write

[hethrewmyheartinthecut]

#AGayADay #TheQueersAreHere

It’s been on my mind for a bit that there’s not a lot of queer rep in most fandoms, especially for queer women, and because I am a fountain of bad ideas and overcommitting, welcome to the **a gay a day keeps the sadness at bay • the queers are here there is nothing to fear **challenge, aka I’m a masochistic dumdum, aka me posting a drabble, imagine, ship, oneshot, or chapter of a lgbtq+ fic once every day. Let’s say I’m aiming for 25 days in a row and see how that goes. 100 is the dream.

Journal:

August 19 • Peregrine, Chapter 1 (May x Esme)

August 20 • (on ao3 only) the pack survives, Chapter 5 (Jessie x Ada, also complex Tommy/May, May/Alfie, Alfie/Tommy)

August 21 • in sickness & health (Grace x Lizzie h/c oneshot)

August 22 • 1/100 iconic quotes the Peaky Blinders never said (Alfie alone is not strictly an mlm thing, but Alfie saying keep your friends close and fuck your enemies is the definition of both Big Dick Energy and queer energy)

August 23 • missed today, gonna have to do 2 tomorrow

August 24 • failed again, A Battle Joined is tearing me apart, stay tuned to see if I survive this chapter or not

August 25 • A Battle Joined ch 3 was just published at 16k words. Despite the backlog, I feel weightless. I will queue up things so that there is an explosion of queer for the holy day tomorrow. Late Sunday, early Monday, expect me back on track.

August 26 • It’s Britney Bitch, here’s today’s + the August 23 makeup:

THE PHOENIX WILL RISE, Chapter 1 (Tommy x Alfie)

+ a TPWR poster

August 27 • Tatiana x Esme coffeeshop AU moodboard #1 (to complement already published oneshot)

August 28 • (on ao3 only) the pack survives, Chapter 5 (Jessie x Ada, also complex Tommy/May, May/Alfie, Alfie/Tommy)

August 29 • nothing. I had a dandy time writing a romcom with E (herequeerandreadytofight on ao3) and I have no regrets

August 30 • pretty things, Tommy character study that includes some Freddie x Tommy (question: does it count if it’s short and angsty? probably not? Too damn bad I make my own rules???)

August 31 • ded. watched to all the boys I’ve loved before. bi sandwich Lana Condor and Noah Centineo. time w my family.

September 1 • family time plus more romcom w/ E and it’s fuckin lit

September 2 • today’s + the August 24 makeup: 

Tatiana x Esme coffeeshop AU moodboard #2 

Grace x Lizzie followup oneshot

September 3 • cryin

September 4 • cryin, but at least I updated the masterlist?

September 5 • today’s + Aug 25 makeup:

Reader x Ada

bi Alfie meme cause I can’t fuckin stop myself

September 6 • (on ao3 only) the pack survives, Chapter 7 (Jessie x Ada, also complex Tommy/May, May/Alfie, Alfie/Tommy)

September 7 • today’s + Aug 29, 31 makeup:

THE PHOENIX WILL RISE, Chapter 1 (Tommy x Alfie)

(on ao3 only) the pack survives, Chapter 8 (Jessie x Ada, also complex Tommy/May, May/Alfie, Alfie/Tommy)

my answer to the complex fmk set: best friend, booty call, soulmate, archenemy, ex-wife with dramatic history(TM): Grace, May, Lizzie, Tatiana, Jessie. it’s a fuckin wild ride. not to be rude but I really am that bitch 

This Weekend I Settle All Family Business

September 8 • Finn x Isaiah oneshot, College AU

September 9 • was dead on the inside all night, inexplicably

September 10 • ABJ & Hozier, fuck it

September 11 • nope

September 12 • NOPE

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing 83 Review

guess who isn't weeks late this time. my opinion of the series is going up a little bit. it's still not great, but i'm not actively put off by it anymore the way i was after 81. not going to tag as spoilers, but be warned that they are under the cut

i’m sure you all are well aware of this but now, but dear god i love bruno redondo’s art. like, an unhealthy amount. the pink and blue is getting to be a theme with either him or just this run, but i am definitely enjoying it. the movement in this cover is clearly obvious, but well done. you recoznize right off the bat that the cover was drawn to drag your eyes down the page until you get to the bottom, but you enjoy the whole ride there. 

also, redondo’s way of drawing a character in stages of action so we can see just how much they’re doing in a split second of movement is quickly becoming something i like to see drawn with dick, and any other character that has that sort of ease of movement and body sense, like cass or sin or maybe a super. 

and he’s in action the entire time! there’s shot drawn just to show off a shirtless comic book character, the way nightwing is so often subjected to. he’s shirtless because he’s changing his clothes, and that’s all we see, no more and no less. very practical, very well done. i like it.

he looks so cute right here oh my god. the little squint, the hair curls. it’s adorable.

but also like. unless melinda has specifically outfitted the door spyhole so that the person on the other side can’t see dick looking through it (and in all honesty she might have) then everyone on the other side can see dick looking through that door. 

bringing your attention back to the “i can’t see melinda’s fbi file oh no!! it’s redacted!! whatever can we do!!” stupidity. redacted files are child’s play for oracle, and definitely doable for both dick and bruce. so that’s bullshit.

now, melinda apparently grew up with the maroni family, then took down part of the family from the inside. the maroni family is a large and notable presence in gotham, one that bruce pays a respectable amount of attention to. he definitely would have grown suspicious when two members of the maroni family were taken down, and with some investigation, he would have discovered melinda’s plan. and it should go without saying that the majority of things you see batman doing? dick can do it too.

it’s not so much that i don’t like how clever the villains/antiheroes are getting. i don’t like how dc heroes are increasingly written as less intelligent. they seem to be relying on pure fighting skills or luck, which may be the case for a couple heroes, but has never been the case for most of dc’s big name heroes, the bat family included. it’s irritating to me to see this sort of stuff pop up as a major plot point when i know that, if dick or bruce had been written with the amount of skill and power that they canonically possess, this entire mess would have been sorted out years ago.

unrelated but dick and melinda have the same hair

this may just be me, but i was always under the impression that dick doesn’t really have a “double life???”

yes, he’s talented enough to create enough differences between robin/nightwing and dick grayson’s mannerisms, way of movement, voices, and speech patterns so that it’s very difficult to put the two together.

but nightwing has never been separate from dick grayson, not the way bruce and batman is. he’s always leaned more towards clark in that aspect: his hero persona is an exaggerated, stately, larger-than-life version of who he really is. there’s no second persona, no real “dick grayson identity” and “nightwing identity.” they’re the same person with the same goals, ideas, and skills. one just pretends to abide by the law, and one gives up pretense of that.

oh good thank god. if he’d trusted her right off the bat (hehe. bat.) i would have slapped him upside the head. at least he’s still got instincts.

gosh the colouring on this is cool. the red has enough purple and pink tones to it that it doesn’t abruptly ruin the tone of the artwork. but it’s definitely glaring enough to take the reader outside of this personal moment they had slipped into between dick and melinda, to put them back in the present where they’re reminded that oh yea there are people hunting dick down. 

the next panel keeps this up too, in a less severe way. melinda’s bodyguard shows up (i forgot her name sorry :[ ) and subtly places us in the middle of an action scene rather than a private, personal scene.

laughing so fucking hard have our little vigilantes grown so accustomed to breaking into places that it doesn’t even register as a crime anymore??? tim coming in through the fire escape to pick bernard up for their date and being very much confused as to why bernard is freaking out.

i really like melinda’s shirt and now despite all the work i have to do and the fucking conference i have to host on monday i want to spend hours scrolling through clothing shops online trying to find this shirt. the mock neck/neckline is so cool i want it

so roland just assumes that a very dangerous vigilante who is highly talented in combat and a very dangerous bodyguard who is also highly talented in combat had a fight that ended with this very dangerous bodyguard being tied up and she looks completely fine? roland just assumes that her having no visible wounds or bruises means that they got into a fight and she lost that easily? uh. aight then

dick what are you doing. legitimately what the fuck are you doing. why are you posing oh my god. you are injured and tired and in absolutely no position to go hand to hand with one of main enemies. jesus christ run away or head to lower ground or something. don’t just stand around letting the floodlights show exactly where you are.

i don’t understand what he’s trying to do here??? blockbuster fully bought the story that dick fought them both, won, tried to get info out of them and failed, then hightailed it out of there. he didn’t have to draw roland out for a fight.

but it does look cool. the way the light just highlights his silhouette and the blue parts of his costume does look badass. he does get style points in my book for this.

w h a t  d i d  i  f u c k i n g  t e l l  y o u ,  d i c k ?

very classic superhero line and it does sound like something dick would say in a fit of righteous rage but also it makes me laugh so hard because all vigilantes think they’re so powerful that the law doesn’t apply to them. dick vigilantism is illegal. you’re acting above the law and pretending it doesn’t apply to you. hypocritical much?

it happens so often in superhero movies, tv shows, comics, whatever and it makes me giggle every damn time.

pretty decent comeback but before i start seeing people writing blockbuster as a thug i’m going to remind you that he made a deal with a demon for genius level intellect. if this turns into another bane situation i’m going to be a little miffed. he’s a smart man, which makes him a dangerous and infinitely more interesting enemy for nightwing.

this is so horribly in character i want to scream. (or. at least. it lines up with one of the versions of nightwing i have in my head.) he’s running right towards the bullets, miraculously doesn’t get shot, while making a sort-of pun. i hate this so much. i love him.

this is cool. this art is really really cool.

he leaped from a building right towards a helicopter that’s actively shooting at him, but none of the bullets are touching him. none of the corruption of the city can touch him no matter how hard it tries, because he’s too good to be corrupted. Comic Book Logic Can Be Good Sometimes Actually.

batman’s belt what??? swiss army knife who?? sorry, i only know nightwing’s bright blue escrima.

this is one of my favourite things about heroes with exceptional abilities, even more so if the hero is human. the things they can do are so far beyond the realm of normal human abilities that it’s equal parts terrifying and awe-inspiring every time they act.

he just used modified grappling wires to hook to the door of a moving helicopter, swung around the helicopter safely without hitting the blades, gained exactly the right momentum to swing upward again right through the opening of helicopter, then fought and tied up the men before they had any idea what was happening. that’s near impossible to do.

it’s stuff like this where i just sort of sigh in contentment. no matter how many times they leave out dick’s detective skills or conveniently forget that he’s actually a master planner and team leader and make him out to be this forgetful dude who makes everything up on the fly because of his “circus roots,” at least they won’t ever take away dick’s sheer physical ability honed to perfection. 

the art, too! in a few panels, dick’s drawn a little lightened or blurred. he’s moving so quickly and fighting so efficiently that he can barely be seen by the enemy. he’s got perfect form all the way through.

and THIS!

there was a helicopter that had five men shooting at him with what looks like machine guns. most people would be dead. some would run away, and be nimble enough to survive without fatal hits. there are very few people, even in fucking comic books, who can look at that hopeless situation and turn it around so quickly and thoroughly that he benefits from it instead.

i just. love nightwing.

it was funny the first time as a comic reader aware of the meme. it’s really not anymore. why the hell would you, in universe, be wearing a shirt that has a picture of your boyfriend being hit in the face by his father. 

okay that was funny. 

look at lil bitewing, so concerned for her human!!! love her sm. 

also a question as to the timeline of things. is nightwing happening before or after urban legends? 

i was so distracted by dick wearing a robe and briefs and nothing else that i didn’t register the second part until later. he slept for two days?? babs, baby, he recently had a very traumatic brain injury. why do you sound so nonchalant?

@TIM X COFFEE SHIPPERS GET FUCCCCKKKKEEDDDDD

ngl i totally forgot about that dude oops

this comic is giving so many reaction pictures. you know how you always use the worst possible picture of your friend for your friend’s contact picture? i’m just getting so many of these.

leslie!!! the titans!!! lucius!!! dick going to go see old friends!!!! the titans!!! this part made me so irrationally happy it really did. gar being the one to just. offer dick solutions with open arms. this was the best

i wish i could just copy and paste this entire scene, but that would take up way too much space, so i’m just going to talk about it instead. 

you gave me my name, nightwing, and you gave me some of the best advice i’ve received in my life: beautiful little throwback to nightwing’s origin. you’d be surprised at the amount of people who don’t know where the name came from, or who don’t know how much clark means to dick. and the fact that dick still looks up to clark as a hero, recognizes that clark isn’t always perfect and yet continues to hold him in such high esteem, and still looks back on advice that clark gave him fondly just warmed my heart so much.

for a man who has fearlessly stood up to darkseid, bruce will do a lot to avoid a conversation: “grrr. i’m the BATMAN. i’m so DARK and MYSTERIOUS. nobody knows the true me. no one ever will. i will be LONELY for the rest of my CURSED LIFE. such is the price of a hero. ignore my farmer himbo husband in the background”

but i don’t think there’s anything heroic about being a billionaire: another nod to how much dick follows clark’s example rather than bruce. yes, this was a very poignant and important criticism, and i think it’s wonderful that this was published in a pretty popular comic book. but the thing is, there is a way to be a heroic billionaire, but only in fictional universes. the way bruce, ollie, t’challa only ever use their wealth to help people. they donate massive amounts of money to charities that they themselves create so they know exactly how the money is being used. they hire people who aren’t likely to get jobs anywhere else and pay them much more than what a base living wage is. they use their power to help push progressive laws and social change. they are helping. 

dick doesn’t fully see it that way. he spent more than half his childhood the son of a billionaire, but still believes that one could be more heroic when one doesn’t have obscene amounts of wealth. whose example do you think he followed to come to that conclusion?

superman looked up to alfred pennyworth?: i mean yea alfred may have been a wildly irresponsible guardian and one hell of an enabler but goddamn if he didn’t love his kid.

you don’t need my input. you’ve thought it all through: ooooooh this line made me grin. for so long, dick’s treated clark as a mentor and a guiding figure. he’s still seen as a kid, an up and coming, snot-nosed titan with dreams of a better world. clark still thinks of him as a kid, despite watching him grow up. but this little line was something i think dick needed sorely to hear. he doesn’t need anyone’s guiding hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t need to ask for permission. he doesn’t need clark to support him the way he did when he was a teenager. he’s all grown up now, and he doesn’t need clark’s help. i imagine it was a bit of a surprise for dick to hear that. 

honestly, i couldn’t think of a better role model: ohhh but it doesn’t stop there. clark just straight up turns the tables on dick. imagine you’re dick, and you’ve looked up to this one hero your entire life, and then one day he turns to you and says that he thinks you’re so kind and smart and worthy of a person that he wants you to mentor his son!? goes to show just how much clark trusts dick.

i swear to god dick probably cries every time he hears clark compliment him because bruce is so rare and sparing with his praise that clark giving him the slightest hint of approval is just a dopamine rush.

also, now deathstroke and superman have both asked nightwing to mentor their kids. the juxtaposition is fuckin hysterical. imagine either of their reactions when they realize what kind of company they’re with

lets talk colours for a second, because i absolutely adore how classic colour tropes have been subverted in this comic, and in this general run really.

warm tones have usually (usually, not always) been associated with light and comfort and friendship and,,,,,well,,,warmth. whereas cool tones are usually used to unsettle, or make a scene seem colder and put the reader on edge. this varies if a comic only uses cool tones, or only uses warm tones, but if a comic uses both, this is generally well-used.

that isn’t the case in this run.

dark red, orange, and other warm tones have been used to symbolize danger, action, attacks. hot pink isn’t usually included in this colour group, but it’s definitely part of it in this case. in contrast, scenes that have cool colours give us the impression of slipping into a comfortable, calm scene with babs, tim, the titans, and other allies. even the beginning scene with superman has this blue, but then it transitions into something more golden coloured. dawn broke over dick, as his new idea came to light, and that was reflected in the art (and the sunrise setting.)

have there ever been times when dick’s longed for the comfort of his mask because he didn’t feel confident as dick grayson? i can’t think of any. i may be wrong, but this struck me as pretty ooc.

am i just??? gay and reading this all wrong??

cause i was under the impression that when someone says they are grateful for your friendship you don’t immediately kiss them. 

or is this like. normal straight mating rituals.

i mean he’s smiling afterward but still babs aren’t you supposed to at least make sure it’s okay first? you guys broke up a while back after you said something along the lines of “i want to be coworkers with you and nothing more because i don’t trust you or feel comfortable around you as a civilian anymore.” like lmao after you say something like that to someone i would assume that you don’t have the permission to just kiss them whenever you want.

show of hands who else got real sad when they realized dick was talking about himself in this.

sure, he could be referencing the things he’s seen blockbuster pull, and the children on the streets. but “i’ve seen money used for enforcement,” sounds a little too close to dick’s entire life being destroyed by one man threatening the circus to pay protection money for me to completely ignore. and “i’ve seen the poorest and most vulnerable blamed and punished rather than assisted” becomes a lot worse when you remember dick was thrown in juvie for a couple months until bruce was able to obtain legal guardianship, and in there, not a authority figure believed him when he told them his parents were murdered.

he’s lived this before.

a. mother. fucking. typo.

fucking why

i mean i’ve stated my distaste for the batfamily groupchat before but like. this is reaching new levels of ridiculousness. jason sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. tim sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. steph sounds like she was written by someone who doesn’t know the first thing about steph and wanted to include her for “family points!!!!!” damian’s supposed to be completely off the grid, and everyone’s searching for him. i do love the way cass texts tho.

well god fuck now i’m crying

dick got a phone call, a sorry, and a thank you out of bruce. i feel so much secondhand happiness for him, if that’s a thing. we’ll just ignore the way bruce looks ugly af and focus on the good parts okay?

and again with the colour symbolism here!

i’m either going to love this or hate this. who knows, we’ll see.

something something hearts something something pink is an evil colour something something. i need to know more about this guy but there’s definitely symbolism there. 

is it just me or does this dude look like the backstabbing traitorous absolutely motherfucking piece of shit villain that killed tadashi hamada in big hero 6?

~~

taggggg list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan  @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption​ @capricorn-stark​ @batshit-birds​ @comics-observer @buticaaba​ 

[libsterslobsters]

Dazed and Confused

Description: Almost a month has past since Bucky and the reader met. Since then, they've had absolutely no contact or communication. What happens when someone decides to make the first move? More importantly: is this a date?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! reader

(Reader can see shards of the future, understand all languages, and process information abnormally fast)

Warnings: Strong language, mostly fluff, mild angst, two idiots who could really benefit from a lesson in basic communication skills

Author's note: As per usual, the reader is unnamed, but when I'm writing, I refer to her as Violet. Also, Bucky Barnes is a poor lost puppy, and you can pry him from my cold, dead fingers before I'll let you hurt him.

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

 The text comes when he’s ankle-deep in various pipes and tools (he could call the building’s super to fix the plumbing but with this great new thing called the internet, he figured it would be pretty simple to figure out why every time he takes a shower, the bathroom sink fills with sludge), and his hands are so full, he can’t check it. Besides, Bucky reasons with himself, it’s probably nothing. Nobody texts him unless it’s a wrong number or a telemarketer. In fact, at this point, he’s not even sure why he has a phone.

 It takes a full hour to put everything back together (the youtube tutorials he watched made it all seem much simpler than it is), this time sans dead rat in the elbow fitting (he’s trying not to think too hard about that), and by that time, he’s nearly forgotten about the text. It’s only when he checks the time that he sees the alert on his phone. With a tap, he opens his messages, and as he reads the name attached to the latest one, he nearly drops the phone. It’s her.

 He hasn’t seen the woman who has visions in nearly a month. Never expected to hear from her again, if he’s being honest. But there it is: a message with her listed as the contact. It’s not very long; only four words, actually. “Hey. Are you busy?”

 He quickly types, “Why?” but realizes just as he’s about to hit “send” that it’s probably not the best response, all things considered (especially since he really, really wants to see her again… despite his better judgment). Alright, he needs to concentrate. Possibly, “That depends. What’ve you got in mind?” No. That’s too suggestive. Too flirty. Although he is flirting… sort of… maybe… he hasn’t figured that out yet. Finally, he decides to go with a simple, “No.” There. No way that can be misconstrued or make her uncomfortable (which is the last thing he wants to do). Unless she takes into account that it took him an hour to reply. Dammit. How do you even go about talking to a pretty girl these days? Is there a YouTube video on that?

 Two minutes tick by. Then five. Then fifteen. He’s almost decided she’s not going to respond when his phone chirps again. “Sorry. Got caught up grading a paper.” This time, he’s fast on the draw. “That’s fine.” But not fast enough, because before he can hit send, another message appears. “This may be weird, but would you want to meet up? It’s okay if not. I just don’t know many people, so…” So…? That’s it? Is he supposed to wait for her to finish the thought or come up with a witty reply? How the hell does he do this?

 Finally he comes up with another simple response. “When?” Great. He’s a monosyllabic wonder. It’s been a long time, and he can’t prove it (you know, because everyone who could bear witness to it is either ancient or dead) but he’s fairly certain he used to be better at this whole “talking” thing.

 Less than thirty seconds pass by before there’s another message. “Now.” Now? Now! Okay, yeah, that’s fine. The shower’s fixed, so maybe he can hose off and change clothes fast enough that it won’t cause much of a delay. But he also hasn’t shaved in… when was the last time he shaved? At least he did laundry two days ago, so he has something clean- another ding. “Or, you know, whenever.” followed by… a yellow smiling face with a bead of sweat. What does that mean? Why is the face yellow? Once again, a ding. “What I meant is, I have this afternoon free. If you do too, that would work fine. No pressure.” No, he’s free pretty much for the foreseeable future. He should probably say something back sooner rather than later.

 “Where?” No, that’s too short. “Where would you like to meet?” There. Better. Maybe. When did people stop talking on phones and only… texting? You used to be able to tell where a person stood because you could hear their voice. Now it’s all guesswork. God, he’s old. Definitely too old to be possibly thinking about her like-

 “Wherever is fine. We could do a coffee shop again, or my apartment. Whatever’s most convenient for you.” Ball’s in his court. Um… he’d really rather not be out in public. For now, he’s safe (at least as far as he can tell), but it’s always a gamble, him betting against himself that his simple disguises will work, he won’t be recognized. That leaves… oh boy.

 “Your place, if that’s alright.” That’s forward. Maybe too forward. She offered, but maybe that was just being polite? More importantly, is this a date? No. Can’t be. Possibly. Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?!

 “Sure.” the words are followed by a string of numbers and a street name. “Just give me half an hour to make the place presentable.” Another yellow, sweaty smile. He really needs to look up what that means.

 “Alright. See you then.” He presses another button and the screen goes black. Thirty minutes. What can he do in thirty minutes? As he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, he makes a decision. Start with getting the sewage off his face.

___________________________________________________________________________________

 “What the hell is the matter with me?” She mutters it to herself as, for the fourth time in ten minutes, she chances her clothes. “This is NOT a date. Not a date.” Just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl… she shakes her head. She needs to get a grip. Now. Because this is definitely not a date. Barnes might be many things, but at all interested in her THAT way is not one of them. How could he be? She’s… weird. And damaged. Not that he’s all there either, but the possibility of this being anything more than a potential friendship? Uh-uh. No way. She doesn’t need to see the future to know that much.

 A knock on her front door makes her jump, immediately hating herself. Why is she nervous? There’s nothing strange about this. People meet up all the time to talk and eat… in one or the other’s apartment… after finding out they both have special abilities. Okay, all of this is pretty strange, especially since it’s her.

 After taking one last glance in the mirror (and smoothing down her hair that’s sticking straight up, thanks to switching out her shirts so many times), she steps out of her bedroom and makes her way towards the door. Not a date, she mentally repeats to herself. No reason to be nervous. Not a date.Then why the hell is she shaking a little? She needs to get a grip. Now.

 Taking a deep breath, she pulls the door open (as it so happens, just as the man on the other side raises his hand to knock again).

 “Hey. You made it.” That sounded almost normal. Not like she’s quaking in her boots.

 “I did.” He’s smiling, so she must not sound as awkward as she feels.

 “Did you find the place okay?” Wow. She sounds like she’s reading from a script. A really boring script at that.

 “Yeah. There’s this thing called GPS now, and…” He trails off. “You probably already know about that.” Great. Now they’re both fish out of water.

 “I do. Super helpful.” It occurs to her that she’s just leaving him standing in the hallway, so she asks, “Would you like to come in?” Oh my god. Her brain. Where is it?

 “Thanks.” He doesn’t make a move, and that’s when she realizes she’s still blocking the doorway. Dumb-ass. Trying not to seem awkward, she walks backwards, promptly running into her kitchen chair.

 “Ouch.” Bucky winces, and she wishes the floor would open up and swallow her.

 “Graceful as an elephant.” She murmurs it under her breath, but a snicker from the man behind her lets her know it’s been heard. Right. Super hearing.

 “That should turn into a nice, purple bruise by tomorrow.”

 “Oh, yeah?” She calls it over her shoulder. “Do you see the future by any chance?”

 “Nah.” He shakes his head, grinning. He has a nice smile. No, she needs to stop thinking like that. Right now. “I’ve just had a lot of experience running into things.”

 They’ve gone so far into the room that they’ve walked straight past the tiny kitchen into the living room. She wasn’t really intending to jump straight into, “Why don’t we sit on the couch, which happens to barely be big enough for two people”, but there’s no way to work, “Let’s retrace our steps into the kitchen” into conversation smoothly, so she takes a seat, scooting as far to one side as she can.

 “I thought super soldiers were supposed to be agile.” Thank god, he’s sitting too.

 “They are, but for around twenty-eight years before that, I was as clumsy as the next person.” Immediately, he freezes. “Not that you’re clumsy-” So maybe she’s not the only one out of practice in the fine art of making friends.

 “No, you had it right. I am.” He still looks a little unsure so, ignoring the little voice in her head screaming, “Don’t do it! You’re coming on too strong!” she leans towards him. “Actually, that new bruise is the latest of at least five others I currently have, and I can’t remember how I got any of them.” Does that make her sound weird? But no, he seems to be rolling with it.

 “Haven’t you ever heard of looking where you’re going?” She goes out on a limb, assuming he’s joking.

 “I’ve heard of the concept, but I’m usually too busy looking ahead, so-”

 “Fair point.”

 There’s a lull in the conversation. It goes on so long, that she blurts out, “Are you allergic to anything?” just to fill the silence.

 “Huh?” He frowns. “Don’t think so. Why?” There actually is a reason, but now that she thinks about it, how would he be allergic to anything? If her frantic googling is correct, whatever Captain America is hopped up on took care of all physical weaknesses, so it’s unlikely Barnes will suffer anaphilactic shock due to something in her kitchen.

 “I cooked, and…” She trails off. “… never mind.”

 “Oh.” Now she really wishes her “power” had something to do with disappearing. “Thanks, um-” he clears his throat. “-was I supposed to bring anything? I thought about flowers, but-” he scratches the back of his neck, and if she had to guess, she’d say he’s nervous too.

 “No, just yourself.”

 “Great, because that’s all I brought.” Splendid. Neither of them know how to hold a conversation.

 Finally, she decides to just come out and say it:

 “I’m not good at this sort of thing.” He looks mildly confused, so she explains, “Talking to people. That is, unless I’m teaching them.”

 “I don’t think I am either.” She starts to ask, “You don’t think?” but reels it in. Apparently, her face must show what she’s thinking, because he continues. “This is the most of it I’ve done in a long time.”

 It’s completely inappropriate, but she laughs.

 “Same for me. Hiding out to avoid capture doesn’t really leave many opportunities to practice your social skills, does it?”

 He chuckles.

 “Not unless I’m doing it wrong.”

 It may be a mistake, but she decides to make a suggestion.

 “You know, I think I heard from someone that there’s this really great solution when two people are in a room together and are out of practice holding a conversation.”

 “What’s that?” At least he doesn’t seem offended.

 “Watching a movie.”

 “Huh.” He nods. “That was the go-to when the cat’s got your tongue back in my day too.” Good, so it’s not a foreign concept. “I’m afraid I don’t know of any theaters around here though, or even what’s playing.”

 “Not a problem.” As she says it, she powers up her laptop “Any preferences? They’ve got pretty much anything if you know where to look.”

 He thinks for a minute, then asks, “Fantasia? Do you think they have that?” It’s an unexpected request; out of all things, the ex-soldier wants to see a Disney movie.

 “I’m sure they do. Give me a second.”  Luckily, it’s on the first service she tries.

 As the opening credits play, she struggles not to laugh at how wide his eyes go.

 “How did you-”

 “It’s on Netflix.” Nothing. He doesn’t know what that is. “It’s a website. I just typed in what I wanted to find, and there it is.”

 The only sound for a few minutes is the swelling music coming from the speakers, then finally, Bucky murmurs,

 “I don’t think I’ve been using the internet to it’s full potential.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 

 “Really?” Somehow, over the course of the evening, they’ve stopped sitting stiffly next to each other and watching their words. Now she’s turned towards him, a plate balanced on her knees, both of them completely ignoring the movie playing in the background. “A rat in your pipes? Are you serious?”

 He nods.

 “Afraid so.”

 “How the hell did it even get in there?”

 “Beats me. I didn’t ask it.”

 She’s got a great laugh, Bucky thinks to himself. It’s the kind of laugh that makes you want to give into the giggles too.

 “That’s probably for the best. From the sound of things, it wasn’t in any condition to answer your questions.”

 He’s about to shoot back a reply, but then he remembers.

 “That reminds me-” Careful not to elbow her (this sofa is barely a sofa; he’s not complaining though, because now that the ice has been broken, it’s actually kind of nice being close to another person again), he digs his phone out of his pocket and pulls up her texts from earlier. “-what does this yellow face mean?”

 She frowns and leans towards him (she smells like cinnamon, maybe cloves… it’s not weird that he’s noticed that, right?).

 “Oh.” Again, that laugh, but quieter this time. “It basically means, ‘I’m second guessing what I just said and I hope it didn’t come off the wrong way.’”  That makes sense, given the context, but he still has another question.

 “But why is the face yellow?”

 Her brow furrows slightly as she thinks.

 “You know, I’m really not sure. That’s just how most emojis look.”

 “Emojis?”

 “May I?” She indicates his phone.

 “Sure.”

 With a brief tap to the screen, a full page of yellow faces (amongst other odd symbols) appears.

 “These are emojis. They sort of add interest to a text.”

 “Huh.” Taking back the offered phone, he studies the symbols. “That would’ve been useful to have when we sent telegrams.” As soon as he says it, he realizes how he sounds. “I just dated myself, didn’t I?”

 She smirks.

 “Just a little, but don’t worry. It’s charming.”

 He places a smile on his face and laughs lightly, but on the inside, he’s still trying to figure out whether or not this is a date. Is she, against all odds, actually interested in him, or is she just being kind? Two hours later when the clock strikes nine, he’s still not sure.

 “Well, I hate to kick you out, Bucky, but I have a student coming by tomorrow at seven a.m., so I need to get to bed.” Has he overstayed his welcome? But no, she doesn’t look offended.

 “Sure. No problem.” He stands and, without thinking, offers her his hand to pull her up, which she takes. How long has it been since he’s touched another person, or another person has touched him, like that? A casual gesture that normal people with simple secrets share?

 “Thanks for the meal, by the way.”

 “Oh, no trouble.” She still hasn’t let go. “Did you want to take some leftovers with you?”

 “No, that’s okay.” Yes, he really does want to (its much better than what he usually comes up with on his own) but if he had to venture a guess, she probably doesn’t have the funds to be giving away food willy-nilly.

 “Alright.” She pulls her hand away, and immediately, he feels colder.

 They walk single file towards the door (this apartment is too small for them both to pass through  shoulder-to-shoulder), her right behind him. As he pulls open the door, he tells her,

 “Thanks again for everything.”

 She chuckles.

 “Thank you for the conversation.”

 He’s about to say something more (although he’s not sure what) when she wraps her arms around him in a hug. It takes a second for him to realize what’s happening, but then he returns the embrace.

 It’s over far too quickly, and when she stands back, her cheeks are flushed.

 “Be careful on your way home.”

 “Will do. Have a good night.”

 On the bus ride home, he plays over the events of the evening. He’s still uncertain as to whether or not it was a date. He feels like it was, but it’s been so long… time to consult the internet. As it turns out, there’s quite a few websites that offer opinions on the subject. He finds one that has a quiz attached and, calculating how much time it’ll take him to get home, decides to take it.

 The questions are pretty generic, and he gets through them in under two minutes. Waiting for the result to load, however? He’s back in his apartment before he gets a solid answer on that. There’s a graph showing how they measure each factor, but the final result is stands at, “You’ve been on a date- likelihood, 99%.” Huh. First time in seventy years. Maybe he’ll give the whole “texting” thing another go.

___________________________________________________________________________________

 Morning dawns far too early for her liking, and with it, her memories of last night return. It was going okay. Really it was. Until she hugged him, that is. Oh my god. Why couldn’t she show some common sense for once? Friends don’t hug goodbye, especially not, “I’m just getting to know you” friends. She’s never going to hear from him again because she came on too strong, and now he really doesn’t want to have the, “I’m not attracted to you” conversation.

 As she makes a cup of tea, a scene plays out before her eyes. The phone dings with a text alert under the name “Barnes.” She doesn’t realize it’s a vision until that exact thing happens ten seconds later. “Wow. So helpful. Really.” She mutters to herself. It’s almost as useful as someone yelling “Duck!” just as you get hit in the head.

 She really shouldn’t read the message. She has a job to do, a student to teach, and if she’s distracted during their lesson, she’ll feel terrible. But, another “ding” sounds and curiousity gets the better of her.

 The first text is simple: “Good morning” followed by… she has to choke back a laugh… several various smiley faces. Guess he’s decided to give emojis a go. “Hope your class goes well today.” Shaking her head, she scrolls down to the next message. “Last night was fun. Would you want to do it again sometime?”

 “Well, I’ll be damned.” She whispers as her fingertips make contact with the keyboard. Maybe he didn’t take it as her trying to make something happen between them that never will. Or maybe he’s just been away from normal human interraction for so long, he’s accepting whatever she throws at him simply so he’ll have a friend. Either way, she likes him and would like to know him better, and if that means swallowing down the silly crush that’s starting to develop, she can do that.

 “Good morning. That sounds great.” She types back, then puts her phone on silent. Certain areas of her life may be changing, but for now- a knock sounds on her door- class is in session.

[captainjanegay]

hey kasia! so, i read your post saying that you’re still not feeling well and that you might have an ear infection now 🥺 i’m so sorry honey! no one deserves that, but especially not an angel like you 🥺❤️ and as someone who had to get surgery to prevent the seemingly infinite amount of ear infections i got when i was little, i know how painful and annoying they can be! 😣 so with that on top of an awful cough (do you know what it is?) for two and a half weeks, that is the absolute worst. please know that i’m sending you all my love and well wishes to hope that you start to feel better soon! by the way, it’s been a long time since i’ve had an ear infection but if i remember correctly laying my painful ear on a heating pad really helps!

also p.s. when i was writing “an angel” i accidentally typed “a bagel” 😂 you in fact are not a bagel but the sweetest angel ever

but anyway— i just wanted to send you this nice little message to say a few things to hopefully improve your day 🥰 i’m gonna try to be concise but we’ll see what happens. i did this for @babyyhoneyydarling yesterday and it got long 🤦🏼‍♀️ but let me get started!

ok so first of all i know i say these things a whole bunch but i promise you right now, i mean them with my entire heart. kasia, you are hands-down one of the SWEETEST and most kindhearted people i’ve ever met. seriously? i don’t deserve you. at all! i’ll get a random ask from you and it makes my entire day so much more worth it 🥺💕 the care you’ve shown me and the other friends you have on here just makes me so happy. there isn’t enough love in this world spread around, but you make it better ☺️ you radiate sunshine energy all the time, even when i know you aren’t doing the best personally. and that takes a whole lot! i appreciate that you show us all love and support every single day— it’s hard to appreciate ourselves sometimes, so getting that from someone who we care about means the whole world!! you’ve made me feel better on the days that i’m at my lowest 🥺 and not only are you the most wonderful person ever, but your writing talent? i don’t even know where to begin. like i’ve said before, i have a tough time reading anything, so when i find a book or fic i can read, i am so grateful! and your fics that i’ve had the pleasure of reading do just that ❤️ just everything about them is perfect in my opinion— you come up with such interesting storylines that i could never even DREAM of! i know you aren’t always super confident in your work but i assure you, they truly are works of art. you deserve every single note they get, and endless support!! 😘 also i just wanted to add in quickly that i am SO proud of you for being able to write every day— it’s not something that all of us can do, so even if it’s not “great” quality, just getting your ideas and feelings out onto “paper” is the important thing. i also wanted to add in that i absolutely love your little writing games that you do 🥰 you are so creative with your 3-sentence ones and i seriously don’t know how you do it on the spot like that!! i take weeks to come up with stuff 😅🤦🏼‍♀️ speaking of games, i just want to say that i’ve loved getting the ability to know you through your blog. you are so welcoming and energizing— i’ve felt so comfortable here thanks to you!! i’ll admit i’m still very intimidated by some people, and even though i am so in awe of you, i feel like i’ve known you forever. which, for me, isn’t something that happens often! i can only think of a handful of friends 💕 i’ve never felt stressed out or scared when i talk to you (sometimes i feel like people are gonna judge me but you are just so kind 🥺☺️❤️) and i just want to say thank you for that. thank you for being you, kasia, you are wonderful, talented, and BEAUTIFUL, both inside and out!!! did you think i’d forget to add that? you are so gorgeous oh my god 🥰

ok— i could keep going but alas, i have wasted a lot of your time and blog space by sending this in 😂 i love you SO SO SO MUCH KASIA!!! i wish i could come give you a hug and help you feel better because you deserve all the best days 🥺❤️ i hope you have a better evening honey!!

also p.p.s. it started snowing a little bit here earlier today and it was the nice light and fluffy snow— it reminded me of you! ☺️💕

I’ve tried to come up with an answer that wouldn’t be me just repeatedly screaming HELENA MY SWEET BABY ANGEL SWEETHEART LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU ARE TOO PRECIOUS FOR WORDS but I couldn’t and I’ve been thinking since yesterday dajka let me try, though.

HELENA MY SWEET BABY ANGEL SWEETHEART I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU ARE TOO PRECIOUS FOR WORDS 

ok i’m done

i’m so not done, you’re just so lovely and every single time I am blessed with your messages or posts or just your sole presence on my dash or in my thoughts, I am just so thankful?? You’re such a sweet and wonderful human and to be able to call myself your friend is so amazing. I can’t believe you’ve singlehandedly saved this clusterfuck of a year by just being you and brightening the life of everyone you talk to, myself included? You’re so amazing??? I can’t belive u ♥♥♥

I’m so incredibly happy to know that I’m able to make you feel better and remind you of all the incredible qualities you have when you don’t remember about them yourself. I love making you happy and cheering you up when you need it so it means the world to me knowing that I succeed. And I want you to know that you do the exact same things to me :’) I feel so cared for and appreciated thanks to you and you sending things like this whenever i whine about not feeling my best? It just makes me cry happy tears forever, I love you so much my heart is just gonna burst someday. 

And all those nice things you say about my writing just make my heart go all !!!!! I’m not gonna whine again but it really means the world and every single nice word I hear about my writing makes me a tad bit confident and while I’ll probably stay critical and self-conscious forever, knowing that you and all the other incredible people that appreciate my work are enjoying the things I almost always dislike? dakjda It makes me dislike them less, cause they make you happy and it’s more than I could ask for :’) I enjoy writing even while it’s a pain in the ass and you all make it so worth it :’) Also I never thought I’ll like those 3 sentence thingies so much dkjakds it usually takes me so much to figure things out (like all the christmas prompts i have in my inbox even though it’s December 11th already dajda)? And when I think about a fic I tend to start way too early and I get discouraged when I figure how much i need to write before I get to the “good part”? So i guess the limit of 3 sentences makes me able to just stuff as much of the “good part” as i can so maybe that’s why i like them so much dsakjkas

I got sidetracked, gimme a sec I need to remember what i wanted to say.

Oh yeah, i remember now - HELENA YOU SWEET, SWEET, BEAUTIFUL SOUL YOU’RE TOO PRECIOUS FOR THIS AWFUL WORLD ♥♥ I just want to wrap you in a blanket and hug forever to make sure nothing bad ever happens to you. And how dare you call this wonderful message a waste of space or time! I loved every single letter in it, just like I love every single part of you and I’ll forever be amazed that such an incredible person once looked at my blog and thought “i’m gonna make her heart explode from love-overload because that’s what she deserves”. I love you so much and I will repeart it forever and a bit longer probably.

As for my well-being, it’s not being so well djasdja I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of an infection but it’s basically the same it was yesterday, it’s not getting worse :’)) (thank fuck it seems to be a mostly painless one cause otherwise i’d die already) I have no idea what was that cough, it’s kinda hard to get a doctors appointment atm and I was kinda paranoid about having covid so i just preffered to stay holed up at home and wait dajkdajk which is not a good way to do things, I’m a horrible example in life but it’s mostly over now (the cough, not life dhjakjda) so i guess it didn’t turn out worse by my lack of professional expertise djaskj I really hope it will all pass soon, I hate being sick cause I always was a rather healthy person and only get a light cold like once a year or even less often? so getting sick so much while not leaving the damn house is just a bad joke from the universe dhkakda

On a more positive note - it was snowing today too!! It started around the afternoon and it’s still here! I’m so happy and I hope it’ll last for a bit :’)

here’s the (not current but it didn’t change much) view from my flat, it’s not even that much snow and it still makes me so excited djasdkja :’)

Again - thank you so much for this message, sweetheart. It means everything to me, I love you so so much ♥♥

[gaslightgallows]

First lines meme thingie

I got tagged by @teadrinkingwolfgirl! 

Rules: Post the first lines of your last ten fics read or written and then tag others to do the same.

I haven’t read anyone else’s fics in ages (mea culpa) so I’m really doing this to remind myself of what WIPs I’m supposed to be working on. XD

Tagging! @firesign23, @rivendellrose, @cigaretteburnslikefairylights, @pendragyn, @kiwimeringue, @timetravelbypen and anyone else who’d like to play!

The Patience of Angels (Good Omens)

“Right,” shouted Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies and Prince of the First Circle of Hell, “shut up, you lot!”

The rabble quieted down, but not without trouble – Hastur had to set a few unruly demons on fire before Beelzebub could finally make themself heard without screaming. They settled into the chair at the head of the long, long table, with Hastur at one elbow and Dagon at the other, and surveyed the assembled with resigned disgust (which was the most neutral emotion Beelzebub could summon).

Every demon with any scrap of authority was there, every prince and duke and a bunch of other ranks besides, by Satan's own order. Except for Satan himself, of course. He hadn’t been to a board meeting in a year, which wasn’t like him – he usually at least came to the once-a-year all-staff meetings. But the boss was still sulking and licking his wounds after that business in Tadfield. Beelzebub supposed he had the right to sulk; after all, six thousand years of planning had been flushed straight down the toilet, all because of one disobedient brat.

There was something marvelously poetic in that, somewhere, but Lord Beelzebub did not possess a poet’s soul. (Though they had possessed a few poets, over the centuries, but they hadn’t picked up much in the way of insight.)

Sideways (MCU, Stoki)

Loki was not expecting to see Captain Rogers again – vastly preferred not to see him again, in fact, along with the rest of the Avengers – and when he did, the first thing he thought was that wasn’t sure about the new beard.

Thankfully, Captain Rogers couldn’t see him, so he didn’t have to concern himself with the captain’s feelings on the matter.

In theory, the less Loki had to see or hear or be aware of Earth, the better. In practice, he'd learned enough about humans to realize that it was at least prudent to keep tabs on Midgard and its infuriatingly stubborn inhabitants. Unlike Odin (not quite late, not quite lamented, safely and comfortably sequestered away in the most inconvenient corner of the palace dungeons), Loki did not have the ability to see and hear all things within the Nine Realms, so he’d had to take the Gatekeeper into his confidence.

Heimdall was... he wasn’t entirely sure what Heimdall’s opinion on the matter of Loki pretending to be Odin was. He recalled the first time he took the throne—

‘Took.’ It was given to me, justly, by Asgard’s own laws of succession and by order of... the queen.

—when Heimdall obeyed his commands up until the moment Loki relieved him of his duties. He knew better than to make the same mistake twice; Heimdall had guarded the Bifrost for longer than Loki had been alive, and he’d learned a thing or two about the watcher’s loyalties. With the true king alive but incapacitated and Thor having abjured the title, who was there left to be king, save Loki?

And it clearly didn’t matter to Heimdall that Loki was technically supposed to be dead.

Upon the Mountains, Like a Flame: Chapter 10 (MCU)

"Are you truly going to prevent Loki from using his magic to defend himself?"

"I have said that I will. It is the only possible way of ensuring a fair fight, especially if Loki and Sigyn are to face Theoric together. Unless you wish to make it that easy for Loki to defeat him. His power has grown--"

"No," said Frigga, "he hasn't." She sounded tired. "He had help. From whom or who, I know not, but I do know the scope of our son's power."

Odin stopped his disgruntled pacing and turned to face her, and suddenly Frigga felt very cold. "Are you certain? We have never been entirely sure what manner of power to expect from one of his... lineage."

"If Loki had learned by nature how to shield his appearance and his identity from us both, he would have used it – and crowed about it – long before now. As it is, he can transform himself into any number of animals in order to bedevil his brother, but we always know it is him. And before you ask again," she continued, "no, Sigyn did not help him. This manner of magic does not belong to her."

Odin conceded that point, at least. "Sigyn's preference would have been to slip away from Asgard between dawn and morning and never look back. And you would not have been able to find her, I think, any more than I would have. And yet... she stayed."

"For Loki."

"For love of him," Odin sighed, feeling old, as he had when Loki had pleaded for Sigyn's hand in marriage. "They make a frightening pair, those two.

The Art of Weaving (Sequel to “The Art of Spinning”) (MCU)

“He lacks compassion.”

“Lacks...” Thor stopped dead in his tracks. “Father, he spent a month caring for Mother and wouldn’t leave her side even when I wanted him to come to Svartalfheim with me. He helped me free Jane from the Aether and find a way to defeat Malekith that saved the last of the Dark Elves from slaughter, when you and I would have gladly let them all die.”

“And what has been the result of those good deeds? A long-dead race returned to the Nine Realms, upsetting the balance of power even further, and my heir abandoning his birthright to waste the next century in the company of a woman who will be gone in a blink.”

Thor remembered his brother’s parting words, the tight, sorrowful embrace, and the lock of hair Loki had given him. “He gave up his chance for freedom. He accepted responsibility for his crimes, even though we know now that he was being manipulated. What more would you have from him?”

“Nothing. I am grateful to have my youngest son back. But I would have my eldest reclaim his place as well.”

But Thor shook his head, and stepped away from his father’s fond hand. “I can never be the king you want. Loki can. He is like you in ways that I am not.”

Odin went suddenly still. “What do you mean?”

“I lack your ruthlessness.”

L'éternité de la damnation, l'infinité de la jouissance (Crimson Peak)

It had been two years. Two years of independence and travel and writing and of seeing the world. Her life would never be normal again, but at least now it felt charmed instead of cursed. At least during the day.

At night, she still dreamed of red-soaked white nightdresses, and of Lucille Sharpe haunting the crumbling halls of Allerdale. She woke with the taste of blood in her mouth, and visions of Thomas screaming in hell.

She didn’t know if he deserved that. He had done terrible things, but how many had been of his own choosing? He had not been a good man, but he had so desperately wanted to be.

Demon in My View (Good Omens)

Normally, Aziraphale was loath to part with any of the books in his collection – though he was not above going against his own grain for people whom he knew would love and cherish the tomes almost as much as he himself did – but in this case, he was delighted to make an exception.

"No charge. No, I absolutely insist. After all, my dear boy, they were meant to be yours."

Adam thanked him politely, and then asked, "Do you still have that wicked flaming sword?"

Aziraphale winced a touch at the adjective but let it pass. "No, no, I'm afraid not. I was required to give it back."

"That's not fair. It was yours, Crowley said it was. And you did help save the world with it. They should give it back to you."

"Well, perhaps they will, one day."

And His Feet Were Made of Clay (Good Omens)

The bookshop of A.Z. Fell was closed. It was the middle of the day and every shop surrounding it was open for business, but most passersby didn't seem to notice the bookshop, and the ones who did weren't surprised that it was closed. In fact, if you examined the diaries of London citizens going back to eighteen hundred, you would find countless entries complaining about the fact that Mr. Fell and Co. (Aziraphale had added the 'Co.' in the eighteen-forties, when he realized he needed to start pretending to be his own son.) never seemed to be open, and that when they were, the very nice gentleman inside was always curiously reluctant to actually sell you anything.

The thing that Aziraphale had always liked most about his corporation was that it looked human. It lacked basic human needs and drives, but it could simulate and perform those functions with perfect adequacy, and really, that was beside the point, because it looked human. It looked unique, the way humans did. Looked like God the way humans did, and the way angels most emphatically did not. Angels had been created by the Almighty with a variety of ineffable functions in mind, and what they looked like when they weren't cramming all their eyes and wings and wheels into a chunky bipedal casing with odors and fluids reflected those functions.

Humans, as near as Aziraphale had been able to figure out in six thousand years of watching, had no preordained function. God had made them because they were fun and that was enough, and he rather liked that about them. Envied that about then, even. (Envy wasn't something he was supposed to admit to, but he lied to himself about so many other things that he simply couldn't have this one on his conscience.)

Although if they did have a function, he was convinced that they existed for the sole purpose of making more of themselves.

A Pause From Thinking (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine)

“Doctor, I appreciate the courtesy call, but it this is some sort of human mourning ritual, I’m really not interested.”

"I didn't think you'd be interested in mourning. I just thought you might want some company. A loss is a loss, after all." Julian poured out the whiskey and handed Garak a glass. "Here's to terrible fathers."

Lots of Rules and No Mercy (sequel to “I Say, Why Not?”) (Tron) 

It was about a month after Alan was first able to communicate with his security program that Tron made the request—not out of any doubt in his user's abilities, but out of respect for the human he looked to as both creator and guardian angel.

"His name was Ram," said Tron, the words appearing on the screen beneath his angularly-rendered face, his voice coming through the headphones like an echo of Alan's own voice. "We were in the MCP's holding cells together for a while. He was just an actuarial program, but he was good at the games and..." The blocky, pixelated face didn't convey one-tenth of the emotion Alan was sure he could hear in the program's tight, gruff voice. "He was a good friend."

"I'm sorry." Alan felt silly, even after a month, apologizing and offering sympathy for the erasure of a program. He was a software engineer after all—he'd been writing and rewriting and erasing programs since high school. It had never been that big of a deal before. "I'm sorry, Tron."

Tron seemed to gather himself together. "Alan. Can you resurrect him?"

Alan stared at the face on the screen, unsure of what to say. He knew Tron couldn't see him or his expression of dumbfounded shock, but the silence said enough. "Forgive me," Tron murmured, seeming to bow his head in the way that made Alan the most uncomfortable. "It was impertinent of me, I shouldn't have asked—"

"It's not that," Alan blurted out. "It's just—I wouldn't know where to start," he added, trying to ignore the uneasy thrill of his creation's simple faith in him.

The Goblin Emperor’s Garden (The Goblin Emperor)

It became Maia’s habit, following the drama of his first Winternight as emperor of the Elflands, and once his wife-to-be decided that he no longer needed quite so many dancing lessons, to hold small intimate suppers one evening a week in his private dining room in the Alcethmeret. Sometimes he entertained several people, sometimes only a few, but nearly every week, Csethiro Ceredin was at the table.

If it was only the two of them at supper, she sat opposite him, where he had the privilege of listening to her speak until the small hours of the morning on all manner of topics, while he forgot about his meal and tried not to drown in her brilliant blue eyes. If there were others at table, she sat at his right, and though she had other social obligations on such evenings, it was worth it to Maia, to be able to sometimes, quickly and surreptitiously and not always entirely secretly, squeeze her hand under the embroidered tablecloth.

His secretary and all of his nohecharei always noticed, and he suspected that they desperately wanted to tease him about it. His nephew Prince Idra also always seemed to notice, and as he and Maia grew closer, Idra did not hesitate to tease him.

“You should be careful,” Csethiro playfully warned the prince, one night after the rest of the guests had taken their leave and the three of them were alone at table, lingering over dessert. “For someday your uncle will find you a wife, and you will make just such a fool of yourself, and he will be as shameless in laughing at you.”

Idra and Maia both blushed, stamping their utterly dissimilar features with a moment of family resemblance. “If I am so fortunate as to someday have such a wife as to be worth making a fool of myself over,” said Idra, half-bold and half-shy, as only a fourteen-year-old boy could be, “I should thank my uncle profusely for his choice, and not mind the teasing.”

“Well spoken, cousin,” Maia said gratefully.

[zebrabaker]

The Goddess of Life, The King of Death; Chapter 5.

This is it, folks, the wedding hath arrived! Grab thy tea, and prepare thy selves!

Marinette tried not to scream upon her fifth introduction where the first question was ‘are you really the goddess of flowers?’. Her Nona had taken on the role of her guardian, and was making introductions for her. Gina was in on the plan, and had been a huge help so far. Then, Chloe came over and grabbed her hand, dragging her to a circle of her former classmates. Chloe dropped her hand, and dared away, probably to gossip more. Alya and Lila were absent, likely getting ready for the ceremony. Nino wasn’t there either. Probably going over his speech.

Rose was the first to step forward, and wrapped her in a tight hug.

“It’s so nice to meet you after all this time! What’s your favorite flower this week? I love roses, and daisies, and well, all flowers! I spend a lot of time on every new variety, and yours are all so pretty!” Marinette giggled at the petite blonde’s exuberance.

“It’s nice to meet you too. I rather like gladioli and chrysanthemums. They’re both lovely, and are some of the only flowers that grow in the Underworld.” Rose gasped.

“I never even thought about how difficult it must be to garden in the Underworld!” Juleka stepped forward, and whispered something in Rose’s ear. Rose beamed, and wrapped her arm around Juleka. “I just realized I never introduced myself! I’m Rose, and this is my girlfriend, Juleka! I’m goddess of Flowers, and she’s the Goddess of Shadows, Darkness, and Sapphic love!” Juleka waved a little, peaking out from behind her bangs. “This is Luka, Juleka’s older brother, the God of the Moon and Stars.” Luka pressed a light kiss to her knuckles, and Marinette smiled. She used to have the biggest crush on Luka, but had gotten over it not long after meeting Felix. He winked, and she froze. She had forgotten about his ability to hear anyone’s heart song. He had always told her that she had the most beautiful heart song he had ever heard, and that he would always be able to pick it out.

“A pleasure, your Majesty. How fairs Lady Allegra?” Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t going to out her. Not yet, at least.

“She’s quite well, Lord Luka.” He nodded and stepped back into the crowd, letting Alix glide forward on her skates.

“Nice ta meet ya! Name’s Alix, Goddess of Speed!” She glanced Marinette up and down, before sighing. “You’re not another girly-girl, are ya?” Marinette struggled not to snort.

“Luckily, I’m able to prank like a pro.” Alix raised an eyebrow.

“We’ll see.” She stepped back, and Mylene took her place.

“Hello, Your Majesty. I’m – “

“Lady Mylene, Goddess of Compassion. I’ve heard of you from several spirits. They say that you visit mortals in their last moments when no one else can or will. My husband and I cannot thank you enough. Souls who have someone there at the end are more likely to pass on, instead of becoming ghosts and haunting the living. Ghosts cause a great deal of paperwork.” Mylene blushed heavily, shrinking in on herself, until Ivan placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you, your Majesty. It’s nothing, really. I just can’t bare the thought that anyone would ever be alone in their last moments. This is my husband, Ivan, the God of Strength.” Ivan merely nodded. She nodded back. The two stepped back into the crowd, and Max stepped forward.

“Your Majesty, it is a pleasure to meet you. As god of information, I was wondering if you could tell me more about your domain. It was my understanding that Rose was the Goddess of Flowers.” He adjusted his spectacles and pulled out a notebook and pen.

“I am Goddess of Mourning Flowers. Lilies, gladioli, carnations, chrysanthemums, orchids, hydrangeas, daffodils, and tulips are some of my more popular creations. I’m rather proud of peace lilies. My domain is actually how I met Allegra, who introduced me to Felix.” Max nodded, and took a few steps away, muttering to himself about nuance in domains and his next research project. Nathaniel took a step forward, shyly.

“Hello. I’m Nathaniel, the God of Art.” He was redder than his hair, and retreated quickly. Marc stepped up.

“I’m Marc, God of Writing. Would you mind telling me how you met Felix? I’m trying to write a love story, but I’m out of inspiration. I’ve asked everyone I know how they met their significant other.” Marinette beamed.

“I was living in a small cottage near the River Styx- “

“BORING!” A voice yelled, and Kim stepped forward. “Hello, beautiful! My name is Kim, god of competition!”

X0X0X

Felix followed Natalie to a shadowed corner, where his father was seated, sipping a flute of nectar, Felix sat, and the two sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, before Gabriel broke the silence.

“Tell me about your…wife.” Gabriel watched his son over the rim of his glass. Felix’s eyes glazed, and his pallid skin flushed.

“She’s everything, Father. She’s kind, and compassionate, and witty, and sarcastic and wonderful. She can bake and cook and sing, and she managed to start a small garden. In the Underworld. Once, I watched her help the soul of a mortal boy who had died of a plague when he was looking for his cat. They spent four hours looking for the cat. Within half an hour, the boy was smiling and giggling. Her eyes shine when she’s happy, and when she gets lost in thought they change colors to match murky waters. When she thinks or focuses really hard, she gets a little wrinkle in between her eyebrows, and her tongue sticks out just a little. Her laughter sounds like tinkling bells, and when she laughs really hard her nose wrinkles a little bit, right on the bridge, and she snorts just the tiniest bit. When I met her, I was frozen. She’s stunning, father. I can’t imagine life without her.” He sighed. “She and Allegra are practically sisters, and her and Claude act like they were separated at birth. Together, she and Alain have pranked Claude at least once a week for the last six years. She had Cerberus giving her rides around the kingdom is just a month. He doesn’t even let me ride on his back, Father. She’s just…perfect.” Felix watched his wife from across the room, his eyes full of warmth and love. Gabriel nodded. That was exactly how he felt about his wife, the Lady Emilie. Yes. This girl, if his son spoke the truth, would be a perfect daughter in law.

Suddenly, Felix stood, chair scraping against the ground.

“Excuse me, father, I need to go.” He grit out, and Gabriel raised an eyebrow. He watched his son go, and nodded in comprehension when he saw what was going on. Kim, the god of competition, was attempting to flirt with Queen Persephone. Gabriel stood, and quickly followed his son, clamping his hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll help you, son. His actions are most uncouth.” Felix shot him an odd look, before nodding. Father and son were striding across the villa, to where Queen Persephone was clearly losing her temper. A small crowd was trying to subtly watch, to see how the young queen would react. When they had reached the edge of the crowd, they were able to hear what Kim was saying.

“You really are lovely. Why you’re married to Hades of all gods is beyond me.” He tried to grab her hand, but she snagged a flute of nectar off a tray, making it so that he couldn’t grab her hand without spilling nectar everywhere.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Lord Kim.” She demurred; eyes narrowed slightly. Felix could see the tension in her shoulders.

“He’s got a stick up his rear, ya know? I can’t imagine ever being stuck with someone like that.” Kim scoffed, before jumping. She had shattered her glass, which was now leaking nectar through her clenched fist. This was going to be fun to watch.

“I’m sorry, ‘stuck’ with him? He is my husband. If I did not wish to be with him, I would not be with him. I have known him TWO DECADES, and he has never been cold or cruel to me. He is kind and sweet and the biggest romantic I’ve ever known. And need I remind you, Lord Kim, my husband is one of the three rulers! He out-stripes you in every possible way. I recommend you learn to think before you speak.” Her voice was sharp and cold, like a dagger of stygian iron. The crowd tittered, as Kim turned red.

Kim opened his mouth to respond, but there was the ringing of a great bell. Adrien was standing on a platform, holding a large bell in one hand.

“Esteemed guests, I ask you all to proceed to the back garden, and find the seat with your name on it! The ceremony will commence in ten minutes!” He poofed away the bell, and turned to lead the procession. Felix slipped through the throngs of deities, and placed his hand on the small of her back.

“It’s me. Let me help you, dearest.” He murmured in her ear, prying her hand open. Marinette hissed, glancing down at the shards embedded in her skin, ichor leaking out of cuts and abrasions. He kissed her pulse point, and vanished the glass. He kissed the back of her palm, healing the many cuts. He gently ran his finger over the cuts in her gloves, repairing them. He then kissed her knuckles, making the stains from ichor and nectar vanish. He tucked her now healed hand into the crook of his elbow, and guided her into the garden.

They passed the deities trying to find their seats, and made their way to the front row. Felix scanned the seats, and found the two chairs next to his father, with Marinette between the two men. Adrien was standing at the altar, beaming to the point he was glowing slightly. Shimmering red glow that grew too bright to look at. When the glare had faded, Queen Tikki was standing, hands folded, behind a rosewood pulpit. Her dress was red, and her blue eyes shimmered with joy. Her delicate wings were folded, tucked against her back, twitching occasionally in excitement. She clasped a hand on Adrien’s shoulder, and addressed the gathering.

“Gods and Goddesses of Olympus! Today, we are gathered here to celebrate the union of the goddess of life and the god of the sun, our future Queen and King! In just two centuries, they will take over ruling Olympus with their chosen council! However, political matters can wait till after the wedding! For now, bring in the bride!”

There was a bright light from the back, and all assembled turned in their seats to see Lila coming down the aisle. Her dress was a shimmering gold, her veil so short it barely covered her eyes. She was smiling demurely, and moving in a way that indicated great anticipation. Marinette clutched Felix’s arm tightly, bracing herself. Her bond with Adrien was weak, barely a frayed thread, but this ceremony was bound to snap it completely. This was going to hurt.

Lila reached the altar, and handed her bouquet to Alya. She ascended the stairs with grace, and clasped Adrien’s hands in her own. Queen Tikki giggled a bit, before setting a hand on Lila’s shoulder.

“A very funny joke, Lady Lila, but where is Princess Marinette? Come now, send in the bride!” Tikki returned her gaze to the doors from whence Lila had emerged, before frowning. She turned to Adrien. “Where is she? Can someone go check on the bride? It’s likely just a few pre-wedding jitters.” Lila grit her teeth in a smile, before placing a hand over Queen Tikki’s, which still rested on her shoulder.

“Queen Tikki? Have you grown ill? It’s me, Lila, the next Goddess of Life and Creation.” Tikki scowled, and ripped her hand away.

“You dare attempt to deceive me? I have been Queen longer than you have been alive, girl! Tell me, where is Marinette?!” Tikki’s scarlet hair was beginning to float, her eyes shining a cold cobalt. Lila attempted to step away, but Tikki grabbed her by the elbow in a vice-like grip.

“No one knows! When she was outed as the Goddess of Lies and Deceit twenty years ago, she ran away!” Alya burst out, clearly scared.

“What…did you just say?” Tikki’s gaze turned from the struggling Lila to Alya, who’s eyes snapped to meet the Queen’s.

“She was outed as the Goddess of Lies and Deceit, so she ran away. Had she even told us, we could have forgiven her eventually, but she ran away. Lila told us she was planning to lie, and pretend to be the next Goddess of Life and Creation. Not like we would have fallen for it anyway.” Alya scoffed. Tikki growled, before taking a deep breath. She dropped Lila, who landed on her rear. Before the girl could stand, Tikki snapped her fingers, and Lila was cuffed by her wrists the altar.

“Trixx!” She called, the single syllable ringing through the air. A shimmering ball of orange appeared next to Queen Tikki, before morphing into a woman with auburn hair and purple eyes, wearing an orange chiton. She had a fluffy fox’s tail, and long, pointed ears, tipped with black.

“What’s the matter, Tikki?” The principality of Illusion, Lies, and Deceit asked, glancing around. “Where’s your successor? This is her wedding, is it not?”

“Apparently not.” Tikki spat. “Your successor decided that she was unhappy with the honor that had been bestowed upon her, and wanted what was not hers.” Trixx frowned in confusion before her eyes widened, her ears pinned back against her head. She wheeled on her heel, baring her teeth at the cowering Lila.

“What did I tell you?” Lila just cowered away, and Trixx growled low in her throat. “I warned you not to try to deceive other principalities, least of all those older than you! You foolish girl! Where has she gone?” Trixx asked Tikki, eyes full of worry and concern.

“They don’t know.” Tikki crossed her arms, glaring at the assembled. “Lord Thomas, Lady Sabine, come here.” From the back row, her parents rose, making their way up the aisle, hands clasped tight. “Where is your daughter?” Her Papa frowned, glaring at Adrien. He, like his wife, was in on the plan, and all for it. No one hurt his daughter.

“She is safe and happy, your Majesty.” Tikki sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Very well. I will expect a full report on her whereabouts later. Trixx, take them to a guest room in the palace, and warn Plagg.” Trixx nodded, and curtseyed slightly. She set a hand on each of her parent’s shoulders, and disappeared the way she had come. Lila, fool that she was, tried to salvage the situation.

“Tikki, please! She’s gotten to you too! I’m the next Goddess of Life and Creation! You gave me my first domain a ye- “Lila was cut off with a sharp slap. Her head snapped to the side, and her hand went to her reddening cheek.

“As Trixx warned you, filth, your powers have no effect on those older or more powerful than you. I will deal out your punishment later.” Tikki snapped her fingers, and a heavy muzzle clamped over Lila’s mouth. Tikki wheeled on Adrien, hair floating, wings flaring.

“You shall face punishment as well, Adrien, future principality of the sun. You should have been easily able to tell the truth.” She snapped, and Adrien was cuffed like his precious bride.  Tikki wheeled to face assembly once more.

“Did none of you see the earth dying? Crops wilting, humans dying, disease and plague spreading? I had just assumed my dear Marinette had yet to gain full control of her power, but to hear she has been chased out by you fools? I am disgusted with all of you. For now, until I know the full extent of this matter, you will all be placed under house arrest. No one leaves the mountain except the foreign royals and Lady Gina, as she will need to act as messenger. Everyone go home. This wedding is over.” The queen spun on her heel, her cloak flaring out behind her as she vanished. 

This was not how Marinette had pictured this going…

[qqueenofhades]

i am a youngin and I have LOTS of questions for you. I became aware of you through your political posts so question number one would be how did you become so articulate? sometimes when I want for respond to arguments, I get so frustrated that i look a fool and nothing gets done. question two, how do you inform yourself and stay critical of what you watch and read? question three, how does one balance their desire to learn and their need to live their life? sometimes I want to spend days (1/?)

 youngin anon (2/?) Sometimes I want to spend days absorbing all the knowledge I can get my hands on, but I also have to go to school, I wanna spend time with my friends, i want to watch my overdramatic rom coms, so and so forth so the desires are constantly battling out in me. question four, how realistic is to want to be a professional historian? when I saw you mention you’re a professional historian, I almost screamed bc so cool! If I want to be a historian, could I succeed in the field?thanks

(3/3) youngin once more w/ her final question! how do you educate yourself on the government and what it’s doing? finding and reading through government reports is confusing and I barely understand how it works because I barely understand civics. I want to learn and be a helpful citizen in the future, but I’m only 15, and I don’t even know what I don’t know. It all feels a bit overwhelming.

Okay, first of all, you must know that telling me that you think being a historian is “so cool” means that you’re now my favourite person and I will 101% die for you, right? Right.

Second of all, I’m very impressed that you’re 15 years old and thinking about all this, which also increases my desire to invite you in for a virtual hot chocolate and chat while scrambling to look like I in any part know what I’m doing and shout at you to stay in school and get enough sleep. I will do my best to go through your questions in order.

One, I’m flattered to hear that you think I’m articulate, and there is definitely an advantage to being able to write and rewrite arguments, rather than being put on the spot and having to do it orally. It comes with practice and educating yourself on what makes a good argument and reading arguments that you find convincing, taking note of what they do well, and the kind of evidence that they marshal to support their positions. It’s similar to writing a good essay or other thesis-driven piece, where you have a position in mind and have to put together reasons for your listener to believe you or at least take your stance seriously (the noble old arts of rhetoric and logic, which were central parts of the classical liberal arts education). I am not sure that there is any easy shortcut for this, alas. Your critical sensibility will get refined with use and age and the volume of things that you read and think about. This also goes into the question of how you stay informed, aware, and critical about things that you read. Basically, the rule of thumb is the delightfully named CRAAP test:

C(urrency)/R(elevance)/A(uthority)/A(ccuracy)/P(urpose). 

Is the source recent? Is it relevant? Is it published or has it gone through peer review? Is it being used in conversations in its field? Who would have an interest in presenting this information one way or another? (I.e. a big manufacturing company concluding for itself that it is not polluting the environment with its operations would be… suspect to say the least). The corporate media in America is very often not all that reliable and/or will certainly not report everything going on, because their central interest is money and upholding the status quo. If you want a left-leaning and reputable news source, you could try The Guardian. It’s a UK-based newspaper, but focuses a lot on American and international issues. Almost nothing that you read from a tabloid or from a random Facebook or Reddit source is likely to be all that legit. Don’t agree with an opinion just because you like it, without doing research. Don’t listen just to what people on the internet would like you to think, including me (I mean, by all means, go out and research and decide for yourself if whatever the hell I’m saying has any merit to it). You don’t need to do this all the time, and you do need to prioritize your mental health and your desire to live an ordinary life. There are bad things happening in the world, but humans are not built to take in a 24/7 bombard of bad news, and it doesn’t make you a bad person if you have “empathy exhaustion.” You literally cannot care about everything everywhere, though you can do your best to stay informed and sympathetically engaged. 

Next, I really recommend you read A People’s History of the United States, by Howard Zinn. It is a classic, it is a pretty clear and straightforward read and doesn’t have confusing footnotes or too much academic jargon, and it sets out and explains the way in which American history has often been framed and the many problems with that approach. (There is also A Young People’s History of the United States, also by Zinn, and Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong, by James W. Loewen.) All of these will offer some corrective and perspective on what passes for historical education in America (answer, pretty much bupkis) and hopefully give you some sense of the ways in which this narrative has systematically discouraged critical thinking or anything besides “America’s the best!!!1″ in generations of America First flag-waving masses. If you do want to be a historian, it’s important to familiarize yourself with what the academic practice of history looks like, decide what you’re interested in and what you might like to specialize in, what area/place/time, and other such things, as well as developing an appreciation for the subject and the work that goes into putting together a historical argument. It will also help if you like reading a large variety of things about many topics, as you will become informed and engaged that way. 

As for whether you could succeed in the field: god, I hope so. I’m in the very-not-fun post-PhD job hunt phase, and I have to warn you that it’s pretty soul crushing, and comes after the exhausting, time-intensive, and nitty-gritty process of getting all the way through the MA and PhD themselves in the first place. That’s almost ten years of school on top of an undergraduate degree, and you really do have to be committed to your subject and want to remain in it if you are going to get through all that with your will to live (barely) intact. Academia is also a weird and cliquey and sometimes depressing place with its own set of bizarre rules. None of this is meant to discourage you – I think we need historians very badly and more than ever – but to warn you that if you think you could be happy being anything other than an academic historian (not to mention make more money) you should seriously consider doing it. You still have most of high school to go before you enter college, and I honestly can’t say what the humanities job market might look like in another 10-15 years, when it’s pretty nonexistent right now. There are jobs, and you can make a career out of it, but they’re all extremely competitive, because there just are not enough of them for all the newly minted humanities PhDs with hopeful dreams of making it in the academy. You have to be fairly lucky, know the right people, network a lot, and apply for pretty much everything you can think of. And as noted, nobody gets into this because they want to be rich. It just is not happening.

I am really flattered, again, that you want to hear my advice on all this, and I would love to help you in any way that I can. You’re welcome to return if you want to chat through things. I also really do recommend Wikipedia. It gets a lot of flack for not being an “academic” source, but as a starting point, you can just go in there, look up whatever you’re interested in, and read the basics (such as civics, the American political system, and so forth). Well-written articles will also be well cited and have lists of links and references at the bottom, which you can use as a jumping-off point for more research. If you’re interested in learning, there are definitely ways to do that. I think you’re already well on the way to being a helpful and productive citizen, just by virtue of WANTING to learn and be informed and critical and compassionate. Tons of people, including lots of them who are much older and in much more important positions than you, don’t do that at all. So you’re already doing better. The information, the ability to work with it, and to form your own opinions will come with time. So don’t go too crazy about feeling like you have to learn it all immediately. You will continue to learn and you already sound like you’re going in the right direction.

I have faith in you. If you want a hug from a random stranger on the internet, consider yourself hugged. Or if that’s too creepy, here’s a high five.

[pitterpatterpot]

Sorry for being dumb af but was the bit where Gavriel and Aedion talk about how Aedion left his wounds to get infected the scene you were going to write about the suicide attempt after the Terassen legion or is that coming up at some point in the next few chapters?

I am going to bring up an actual attempt later as well, yes. I just struggled to fit it in the most recent chapter, I’m so sorry about that. I hope this short one-shot helps make up for it before I finish the next chapter!

________

It isn’t red.

Blood is supposed to be red.

But it isn’t red. No, it’s black and matted and instead of dark and stormy the sky is bright bright bright and hot and the maggots are squirming in the bodies and trying to push their way through the sticky flesh of the fallen.

People who Aedion made fall.

Why didn’t he? He’s small. So small so small so small and they’re all so big.

“Aedion?”

The sentry, whose name has left Aedion’s head, barely manages to dodge the blow from Aedion’s arm. He grabs the boys wrist, taking in his heaving chest and wild eyes. Drunk on bloodlust. Drunk on something no thirteen-year-old should touch.

“The siege is over,” the sentry licks his lips, slowly backing away. “You need to head back to your sector. They’re doing the body count.”

Body count. Bodies. Seeing who’s alive and who’s buried under the flesh and the maggots and the heat and the flesh and the maggots and the blood and the heat and the maggots-

“I’ll go,” his voice isn’t his own, where did his voice go?

The eyes follow him. Screaming still screeches out, so loud, as people are worked on. Either healed or finished off. His ears are too sensitive, his smell too sharp. He shouldn’t be able to hear the crying of a man meters away while he clutches what is obviously a dead body, Aedion telling by the wretched scent of the corpse alone.

They write his name down. They send him back to camp. He has a tent. A small tent. That’s what they gave him for killing and fucking and pleasing and working and living.

He’d rather sleep in the snow.

“Injuries?”

No.

“Need any rations?”

No.

“Oi, you got a brain, boyo?”

Maybe. His body moves. He passes the healers tent, never mind that his arm burns like the pryers. Like the screeching fae. A mass genocide. That’s what they’re facing. And Aedion has that blood running through his veins. How soon before he’s extinguished like the rest of the species he can call himself a part of? How long until maggots are feasting and squirming through his slack flesh? Even the trees are black and bare, winter stripping them as if to leave everything exposed to the torture of the sun and bloodshed. The snow isn’t dirty grey anymore. It’s reeking of the stench of flesh that Aedion can still smell from the camp. It clings to his body and the bodies of other soldiers.

“Ashryver.”

A general. Or a commander. He should know this, he should remember.

“We’re heading back to Orynth tomorrow,” the man swallows, Aedion catching the bob of his throat. “Once there… once there, we should be prepared.”

Theralis was one of their last stands.

They’ll have to go back and learn to kneel. 

“Aedion,” the man’s voice lowers, his dark eyes taking in the golden hair matted with blood and empty eyes, “when we get there, you should go to your room and lock your door.”

As if he hasn’t delved in the red rivers. As if he hasn’t fought. Maybe now that they see what has been done to him, maybe now that the see the consequences of their decision, they realise he was not ready. Even if he was left standing. Even if he cut down warriors twice his size. Perhaps it’s their guilt that now convinces them to give soft words of protection and aid.

Like he doesn’t have blood and flesh encrusted beneath his fingernails.

As if he can’t taste the blood in his mouth from when he resorted to sinking his teeth into the flesh of arms that grabbed him.

As if he didn’t become some kind of beast for a good portion of the battle. 

“Aedion,” the man almost bows down to look the boy in the eyes. “Aedion, do you understand what I’m saying?”

“No,” it’s not his voice.

Something in the man seems to break, seems to crumble from within. “Do you have anyone to go to? What of your family in Wendlyn?”

“They sent Darrow a letter,” it’s scratchy, that strange sound from his throat. “They don’t want to risk the wrath of Adarlan and the chances of smuggling me over.”

‘They don’t want me.’ The message lingers between the two of them, clear by the sharp edge that enters Aedion’s eyes, the change seeming to awaken his body in some sense. The rage makes things clear, the anger wiping away the grime of the horrors he’s just witnessed. 

The general- no, commander, Aedion remembers - looks startled by the change of atmosphere. “We set off tomorrow. Go get checked at the healers.”

Healers. As if a few people holding bandages count as healers. As if all the fae and occasional humans who practiced the intense art of healing could be replaced as soon as their ashes spreader far enough not to be seen.

His tent is small. It’s small and thin and he has no mats so as soon as he lays down Aedion can feel the burning sensation of the snow through the thin fabric as it creeps through his skin like a disease. His arm is hot. Hot and warm and the cold is just isolating that feeling.

Aedion throws off all his armour, finished with the weight of it. It leaves him in his pants, torn and bloodstained, and a thin shirt. He rolls up one sleeve to examine the cut, glad to see that the wound gapes less than it did before. When he closes his eyes he images maggots wiggling through his own flesh. He imagines it white and pale and shrunken like a shrivelled piece of paper. 

But his skin around the gash is red. Bright red not black or white. 

It must be the cold.

The cold. Not the creeping pain moving up his limb. 

~~~

“Aedion?”

They’re being so gentle. So gentle thanks to their guilt. So different to how they screamed and cursed at him. 

“You need to pack up your tent.”

His eyes are too sticky to open.

“I- shit. Shit. His arm-“

His arm? It’s warm. He’s cold so the warmth is nice. He just can’t move it, or anything else. People are removing his shirt, pulling it off, a healer examining the new scar. Bless his healing abilities. But there’s puss along the crack, the skin red and inflamed and irritated. He closes his eyes again. If they leave it then the rest of his body will be warm. He knows something is eating at his arm. That his skin isn’t supposed to be slick with sweat. But everything is so much easier just lying down with the cold snow underneath him while warmth courses through his body. It would be so much easier to just sleep. 

Then he won’t need to go back out again.

“The knife and ointment-“

He screams. The scream tears through his throat. He can feel the sound before he recognises the pain splintering his arm. His eyes open and he looks, looks at the healer slowly slicing the cut back open again and pressing a soaked cloth into the injury. It stings, it stings and burns more than it should. Aedion knows that the puss shouldn’t be wiped away like it is. The white cloth comes away stained. Someone pins down his shoulder as the healer works, quickly applying stitches once done. As soon as the bandages are applied the berating begins. The demands of answers, of why he didn’t go to the healers right away. Aedion wonders briefly how many of them believe him when he said he didn’t realise it was infected. 

Maybe it’s better that they did heal it. He’ll go back to Orynth and have to face his failures. He’ll have to face the people and look at their faces once they realised he lost. That he couldn’t save Aelin, that he couldn’t win the battle, that he disappointed in every area he was expected to excel in. When he goes back they’ll have a day, maybe two, before they’re overrun. Then they’ll take everyone. Maybe they’ll burn Aedion like they burned everyone else with a speck of fae blood. Then again, they seem to be after magic, and Aedion has never had much of that.

He’s never had much of anything. Maybe once they take over he can try to forget everything that happens. He can forget-

Aelin.

He can’t forget Aelin. He can’t. Not when he should have been there to protect her. Not when that was his purpose and he failed. She would be horrified to see him caked in blood, ripped open and devoid of a laugh and flower crown. Would she even recognise him now with the way he’s been torn apart and sculpted anew out of harsher metal that’s been forged from a deeper fire? She would. He knows she would. She would be so sad to see all the flowers drowned in blood. Maybe when he sees her again they can grow new ones together-

No. He’s not going where she’s gone in the afterlife. Not after what he’s just done. Those bastards that dragged him to hell deserve to suffer too. After what they did to Aelin they deserve punishment from the gods themselves.

But the gods don’t exist on the battlefields.

Aedion does.

He can hold on for a little longer to avenge them all. To wipe all those bastards from existence. To make them feel what he did.

He’ll hold on for that. 

[velvetroom--imagines]

Ryuji, Akira, Minato and Yu's headcanons when they see their crush's awakening their personas and wanting to become one of them. How would they treat them in the Metaverse? Maybe Small scenes of confessions when crush is hurt, because they're so worried? Thank you

Ahh, this are the type of asks I really like, especially if it interferes or has something to do with the plot. Thank you! I wasn’t sure about Minato and Yu’s since they were from a different game, so I will be writing it in their own dungeons like the ‘TV World’ or ‘Tartarus’. 

“Let me Join You.”

Akira Kurusu

It was accidental. You weren’t supposed to be here, he thought. If there was anything Akira was afraid of, it would be the fact that his specific other had strolled into the deep into Mementos, alone. In all honesty, he hadn’t noticed your presence until Futaba noted that she felt a faint unrecognizable energy in one of the floors.

Prior to your awakening, Akira had already established a Confidant with you. You were a student, someone who only watched as things fell apart. Bystander was the word, but it wasn’t that you refused to do anything. It’s just that no matter what you did, no one would listen.

It was then when one day, you wanted to talk to Akira when they had suddenly opened an app and warped the whole world. To your surprise, you had found yourself in the Metaverse. Quietly, you trailed after the ‘Bus’ but had gotten lost along the way.

May God know how you managed to escape from the Shadows. You ran from the monsters for a time until you took a wrong turn and trapped yourself in a dead end. Luckily, from the corner of your eye, someone had come to your rescue.

The Phantom Thieves, right before your very eyes. Covering you, they didn’t let you in the sight of the enemy. Again, like always, you were just watching without being able to do anything. It wasn’t until you watched as the Shadow knocked everyone down, leaving Akira on his knees.  

“A-Akira!” You squaked, scrambling onto your feet. What could you do? Was there anything… you can do? Suddenly, you feel a pounding to your head, a voice echoing out to you.

“Finally, you’ve come to your senses and have broken out of little cage. I’m disappointed that it had taken this long.” Writhing on the floor, you felt a searing pain take place on your eyes. You felt blinded, and the urge to remove it was pulsing.

“Come now, let’s give them what they deserve! I am thou, thou art I…” Desperate, your hands made their way up to your mask, gripping the sides before ripping it off, the scent of iron hitting your nose. “Now, what do you plan to do?”

“No. I won’t stand and watch anymore.” You hissed, gripping the weapon given to you. You stood, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You smiled at the Phantom Thieves, ecstatic. “Come, let’s finish them!” 

Once the battle had come to a finish thanks to your new abilities, the Phantom Thieves approached you. Akira came into view, glancing at your wounds with concern. “S/O, are you alright?” 

He had that soft spot foryou, and seeing those scars made him wince. He didn’t hesitate to take off his gloves to brush his hands along them, checking how severe they were. “Next time, don’t enter places that look shady.”

Shaking your head, you smiled at him. “It’s okay. I actually want to continue entering shady places if it’s for the greater good.” Akira would always be captivated by how sweet and compassionate you are, why would he deny your request?

Akira smirked at you, holding out his hand for you to take. “Consider yourself a Phantom Thief, my dear.” A confession wasn’t even needed at this point, really. He’d flirt his way into your heart until it becomes clear that he isn’t going to stop.

Battles are actually very convenient. At moments when he asks you steal something or whenever you jump to avoid enemy attacks, Akira would always catch you. Literally, most times, you fall right into his arms. He’d smirk, unwilling to let you go. “I think you belong here. Don’t worry, you can pay the rent through kisses.”

Whenever you get wounded, Akira would always place himself in front of you. His cheeky demeanor would fall whenever your life is as stake. If you get seriously damaged, he won’t show mercy to the Shadows that hurt you then tend to your every beck and call.

Expect Akira to drag you into Mementos for ‘training sessions’. Sometimes they get heated after battles. Imagine Akira taking your hand and attempt to seduce you out of the heat of passion. “If you beat the next one by yourself, your efforts will be rewarded.” 

Rewarded? Pfft, he ends up taking you for a Mega-Burger Challenge. Gotta get your stats up after all.

Bonus; There was a time when Akira accidentally dismissed an ability your Persona had, and now he desperately needed it. You were awfully confused when he had taken you to Church. 

“Akira, why are you asking me to confess my sins?” 

“You can kneel before me later. Please do a confession. I really need that Salvation move.”

Ryuji Sakomoto

Ryuji was horrified once he discovered that you, out of all people, had been following the Thieves into Madarame’s Palace. Ever since the two of you had met, he has had this urge to protect you. 

Geez, this guy isn’t willing to even let someone lay a finger on you. You were always quiet and lenient towards Kamoshida’s advances. While Ryuji would bark at the man, you couldn’t avoid the harassment. Your silence and submissive decisions made it clear that you couldn’t stand up for youself.

One of the reasons he wanted to destroy Kamoshida so badly was to protect you. When you displayed your surprise when Kamoshida turned himself in, your friend simply grinned victoriously. You knew something was up, and Ryuji was involved.

For the past days, Ryuji was nowhere to be seen. You’ve heard whispers that he has been sen at an Art Museum, but as far as you knew, Ryuji would’ve left the place since it felt too boring. Eventually, you decided to follow him, trailing him to the house of Madarame.

You weren’t too surprised when you found out they were the Phantom Thieves. Curiosity got the better of you, leading you to watch from afar. It wasn’t until you got lost, and found yourself curled against an artifact. 

Suddenly you felt a chill run down your back, noticing a dark figure standing behind you. You desperately didn’t want to look behind you, but you ended up doing so.

Ryuji always recognized that scream. It was too familiar, and it was certain it belonged to you. On instinct, he ran off and followed the sound. That was when he had found you backed against a wall, a Shadow looming over you with dark intentions.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He yelled, immediately catching the shadow’s attention. Grinning darkly, it’s attention diverted towards the Phantom Thieves, bigger lives aching to be destroyed. 

“S/O! Stay back!” Ryuji yelled, unable to notice that the Shadow was inches away from attacking him. Before you can yell out a warning, it was already too late. Before you knew it, the Phantom Thieves were struggling and low on health. 

It won’t be long until they are defeated.

“Is this how it will end?” A voice echoed within you, sending painful tremors through your head. Clutching your hair, you collapsed onto your knees. “Are you going to simply watch them fall apart? You can do better than that, don’t you think?”  

Ryuji watched as you thrashed around in your position, fearful for your safety. Drool spilled from your lips, foaming out. “Mercy? Don’t be foolish. Being nice will never get you anywhere in life, dear. Let’s seal the deal, right here, right now. I am thou, thou art I...”

It all flashed before your eyes. You were always being protected, always being shielded against others. Never had you fought back, and it was always Ryuji who took the blow for you. Not anymore, not this time. “That’s right! Wreak havoc upon your foes! Destroy them!”

Weapon in hand, you grinned widely at the Shadow. “Thank you, Ryuji. You have always protected me from the dangers of this world.” You looked at your friend, smiling gently. “Let me return the favor.”

Ryuji was frozen in awe, too lovestruck to even protest. He watches as you land a blow on the Shadow, amazed by how powerful you can be when agitated. Getting up himself, he runs to your side with a matching smile. “Come on, S/O! Let’s finish this!”

At the end of the battle, he finally approaches you with an upset expression. “S/O, be careful next time. If we didn’t find you, who knows what could’ve happened to you...” Without any hesitation, he takes your hand.

“I really don’t wanna lose you, you’re everything to me.” His eyes widened in realization, only registering the words that flew out of his mouth. A faint blush glazed over your cheeks.

“Is this your way of saying you love me?” You asked, noticing the matching red shade on Ryuji’s face. He groans, already foreseeing his rejection. “Yeah, but it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way--” 

His words were cut off by a swift kiss to the cheek. Frozen in his spot, he blinks in confusion. You laugh softly before jumping onto his back, burying your head into his neck. “Thank you for protecting me, my knight.”

In battle, rather than protecting you, he tries to fight alongside you instead. He tries to sync his movements along yours, both creating flashy attacks. You would attack first, then suddenly he runs straight into the Shadow from behind to give it the final blow. 

Just be careful when you get struck down, Ryuji will show no mercy. If you’re still hurt, he won’t mind carrying you until the next safe room. Even in the Metaverse, he’s still the sweet guy we all know and love.

Yu Narukami

It was another night, and Yu already had a feeling about his next target. It was a bit too obvious when a familiar face appeared on TV, questioned about the mysterious Inaba Murders. He felt sick to his stomach, hoping that it wouldn’t be you and your appearance on the news was just a coincidence.

When the TV turned on, Yu couldn’t help but blush at the sight. You were dressed in an exposing white attire, pure. Behind your figure was a brightly colorful background of endless artifacts and paintings. 

“Hello dear viewers! Today’s program is the pre-showcase of this painfully bright museum! Gah, it disgusts me how much color this around.” Posing inappropriately, you smiled at the camera. “We can’t have that. I’m supposed to be the Number 1 Artifact there is! My name is S/O, and you shall witness me tear down these walls into a pure white shade!” 

Yu furrowed his brows with confusion. Were you planning to repaint the whole museum white? Grinning mischeviously, you leaned in closer towards the camera. “Once we are finished, you shall witness this Museum’s greatest and only exhibit. Of course, it won’t be ready until I get rid of everything else! Until next time!” The screen fades out as your Shadow takes out a bat, smashing a colorful vase. 

Yu was very flustered during the meeting the next day. “No questions, we’re going into the TV World today.” “Yu, aren’t you being a little too worked up?”

He wastes no time working through your dungeon. It was a colorful museum with paintings and artifacts scattered and torn apart. The rooms were covered with white paint, attempts to cover up it’s vibrant and eye catching wallpaper. It was a hunch, but Yu suspected that your Shadow was a manifestation of a desire to feel special. 

His conclusion was right once he made it to the final floor. It was an art studio, and your Shadow stood before you. Paint was ready, scattered and thrown along the floor. “No! This isn’t right. It must be beautiful– I must be beautiful!” 

Yu’s heart hardened at the sight of you on the floor, teary-eyed and angry at your counterpart. “Please, stop it!” You cried out, refusing to look at your own reflection.

“Oh please. Do you really think I’m happy with out plain I look?” Your Shadow asked in a dark tone before chuckling. “My friends are so colorful. They’re so smart, so pretty, so… eye catching.” Rolling it’s eyes, your Shadow snorted. “Then there’s me, little boring me. I tried everything, you know. I joined clubs, studied hard and all, but did I get any praise? No!”

Disgust flashed over your Shadow’s face, glaring at it’s human counterpart. “I’m so sick of it. I’m sick and tired of being average! All the crap about everyone being special, lies! It’s all lies!” 

“N-No… You’re not me.” You said in a hoarse whisper, collapsing in defeat as your Shadow grinned widely, warping into an unrecognizable form. Yu gripped his blade tightly, ready to summon his persona.

“I am the Shadow, the True Self! Come, let us paint this lonely canvas with your demise!” 

Yu found it hard to fight your Shadow. It made him feel terrible to know that the one he held feelings for would have such a distorted view. Yet, this only gives him a better motivation to fight, to free you from your sadness.  

Once your Shadow had been defeated, you sighed and got up on your feet. “Disgusting, isn’t it? You probably dislike me now for that side of me.” To your surprise, Yu shakes his head in disagreement. “Even with your flaws, you’re still the same person I fell in love with.”

Glancing at your shadow, you nodded in acceptance. It faded into air, giving you a glimpse of a figure you would soon call your Persona.  

Just before collapsing from exhaustion, a faint smile rose upon your lips. “Thank you, Yu.” Even your tiredness couldn’t hide away the pink shade of your cheeks.

Once you had become accustomed to the Investigation, nothing really changes in battle. Every now and then, Yu would try to catch you off guard in battle by sending small flirtatious comments your way. It grosses the team out, but it always found a way to make you smile. 

“You know, I wouldn’t mind if you were feisty when we are alone–”

“EWW, SAVE IT FOR THE BEDROOM!” -Yosuke Hanamura

Minato Arisato 

Minato was always certain to make sure you didn’t catch onto his late night missions. Everytime you asked to stay overnight, he tried to make sure it doesn’t interfere with his little visits to Tartarus. He would always send you home, no questions asked.

He always did appear stone cold in front of his teammates, at least until he heard a piercing scream in Tartarus. It was very familiar to his ears, causing his never-changing expression to falter in terror. Running past the hallways, he finally made it to a corner where a Shadow stood threateningly. Behind it was a small figure curled against the wall, eyes filled with fright.

“S/O?!” Beckoning his team over, he calmly charged for battle. Unluckily for him, this specific monster managed to land critical hits on the team. Minato fell onto his butt, groaning in discomfort. His evoker had been thrown against the wall from impact, as the shadow approached him with interest.

“S/O… run.” He whispered, praying that Fuuka had already contacted backup. You weren’t moving away, instead taking the gun in a shaky grip. His eyes narrow with seriousness. “S/O, just get out of here!”

You ignored his desperate pleas. Placing the gun to your head, your eyes remained fixed on Minato who lay helpless on the floor. At that moment, you knew what you had to do. Even if it means to meet Death itself, you were willing to throw it all away to save him. 

“Persona!”

His vision was blurry, but he could already make out the small figure from your back. Grinning madly, you gestured your hand forward towards the shadow that stood menacingly before the boy. “Megidolaon!” You cried out, a shining light eradicating your enemies.

Minato was astounded once he figured out that you had the potential. Once he gets back up on his feet, he immediately grabs your wrist. Was he angry? Furious? Scared? Who knew? Minato couldn’t bring himself to yell or scold you for doing something so risky. Hissing to himself, he lets go of you. “Let’s go back to base for now.” 

After that encounter, Minato quietly protested against you joining SEES. To fight against shadows, one must accept the possibility of dying. He certainly did not want you to fall to such a fate. However, after multiple meetings, Mitsuru welcomed you to the team with open arms.

For the first few missions with you, Minato becomes a bit too protective. He’s the Battle Leader, isn’t he? He would mostly leave you out of battles until you start to persist him to do so. To avoid any disputes with Mitsuru or Yukari, he gives in.

Even in battle, he is still hesitant to let you fight. Minato was mature enough to let you fight on your own accord, but was always pulling back at the slightest hint of danger. He would always cast Diarama whenever you were hurt, just to keep your safe. 

Due to the fact that he is responsible for your life, he ceases all his plans on asking you out. Letting his love evolve will not help in the field of battle. Subtly, he still shows his affection in different ways. He often takes blows for you in battles, and heals you once they are over. 

Boy, his confession for you was on complete accident. It was when a Succubus cast a ‘Marin Karin’ spell on him. With a faint blush on his face, he swung his blade at you as you dodged. “Tartarus is full of dangers. I must end your life before the shadows do!” He growled, seemingly irritated at each miss. 

“Snap out of it, Minato!” You cried out, already growing tired at each attempt. It wasn’t long until you tripped over your own feet, back against the floor. Delighted by the action, the Leader straddled you while raising his sword up high.

“I’m doing this because I love you, please understand that.” Just as he was about to land the final blow, you snapped at his words. “What?!” You squeaked in surprise, your hand immediately flying upwards to smack his cheek.

His eyes snapped back to their original calm hue, brought out of his delirium. “S/O?” Scrambling off you, he had a horrified and embarrassed expression on his face. 

By the moment the battle was over, you dragged Minato to a secluded area in the building. He wanted to escape and hide his face in shame for what he had done, but you weren’t going to let him escape. “Did you mean it when you said you loved me? Was that why you didn’t want me to fight?”

He remained silent. Minato didn’t know how to answer your question, torn between tell you and keeping silent. After a more moments of silence, you were about to turn around and leave before he grabs a hold of your wrist, pulling you into his embrace.

“So what if I do? What are you planning to do with that information?”

[inkbyajm]

Strangers

request from @justcallmecinammon : In a Stephen Strange x humanreaper!reader oneshot, she meets him when he's in the out-of-body dimension where he's looking for an artifact and she's casually like "it's over there" and he's like "wait how are you here?" "Because I walked through the door" and they develop a cute friendship in the regular earth dimension and his cape adores her with a fluffy ending where they end up together? Pretty please? Reader is short and petite and silly

A/N : Good JESUS this took some time to post, I did not forget about this cute idea XD I was travelling and couldn’t put this in queue because I wanted to make a few changes, I’m so sorry ! But yeah, never wrote for human reapers before, this was very strange (lord forgive me for i have sinned) but fun to write ! Hope you like it ? I apologise if it’s bad ._.

Warnings : I have never read the Dr Strange comics and none of this is actually accurate, so please, do not attack me ! (lol)

The Astral Dimension was so bizarre, Stephen couldn’t get used to it no matter how many times he’d separate from his physical form. However this time he was on a mission. And he had been looking everywhere. The Ancient One said it was going to be here but it was odd as he didn’t find anything that resembled an artefact. Walking into a room, there were bookshelves everywhere. This was going to take some time.

————

After long minutes, Stephen let out a long exasperated sigh.

"It’s right over there" he heard a voice speak behind him.

He quickly spun around, prepared to fight whoever or whatever present.

"Attacking me for helping you? How dare you, sir?" the person dramatically gasped, clearly not afraid.

In front of him stood a rather small individual, well, she was to him at least. She walked over to a bookshelf and jumped a couple of times to grab something off of one of the top shelves then walked back to him. She handed him over a deck of cards as he looked at her confusedly.

"What- what is this ?" he asked bluntly, turning it in his hands.

"What you’re looking for, trust me." she replied with a confident smile.

So many questions swirled in his head.

"Alright, first off, how did you-? I mean, where did you come fro-?" he was saying until the girl took a step back towards the door.

"The entrance" she bluntly pointed out.

"Yeah, but I don’t remember hearing you en-" he stopped mid-sentence when she just reached for the door and her hand went through it.

Stephen was speechless and felt a little more vulnerable.

"I wasn’t gonna walk through the walls, I still have my manners" she told him, putting both hands on her hips.

"So, I’m assuming you’re in an Astral Projection at the moment because you look too chic to be dead. Wait, you’re not dead, are you? I am so sorry for judging you straight away, I-"

"No. I mean- yes, I am currently in Astral form." he explained "I'm assuming you are as well?"

"Oh, no, I’m not in Astral mode. I’m not dead either, don’t worry!" she cleared out.

Her silliness actually made him let out a short laugh.

"What’s your name?" the man asked, quite interested in this mysterious lady.

"(Y/N)" she replied cheekily and they shook hands.

"Stephen, Stephen Strange. Nice to meet you. May I ask what you are, (Y/N)?” he questioned, trying not to be rude.

"I am a reaper. I transport dead folks to wherever their destination is. We can see dead people as well as Astral people, we can also make ourselves visible to humans but that’s usually unnecessary. You don’t encounter one of our kind very often so you’re one lucky guy, Mr. Strange!" (Y/N) exclaimed and they both chuckled.

"Alright, I have to go back, uh, would you like to accompany me?" he offered and she shrugged as to why not.

————

Some time later, he finally found his physical body and when he looked around, (Y/N) was nowhere to be seen. Feeling a bit bummed, he went back to the Sanctum Sanctorum.

He walked into the building, the exhaustion finally hitting him.

"This is awesome!" he heard a familiar voice and whipped his head to the side.

There she was again, admiring the place.

"Do you live here?" (Y/N) asked in awe.

"Wha- no, I mean yes. It’s more my workplace but I have to reside here as well." he explained.

"Well, since you’re here, care for a drink? Tea, coffee, soda, beer?" Stephen offered.

"Tea sounds wonderful" she nodded, offering a warm smile.

————

Once they were sat with their cups, which magically filled themselves back, the two started chatting about anything and everything.

"So, what’s your job?" the damsel asked.

"Interesting question, very interesting question. So, I, uh, used to be a neurosurgeon, but I got into a car accident and damaged my hands. Later, I learned that they had been subjected to severe nerve damage and rendered inoperable." the man explained, showing both hands.

(Y/N) gently took them in hers as if they were still fragile and examined them, making the doctor’s heart flutter.

"I am very sorry for that, you must’ve been excellent at your job" she spoke with a hint of genuine sadness. Stephen’s mind was off for only a second as he cleared his throat.

"Long story short, I went to The Ancient One for help and became the Sorcerer Supreme. Now that I look back at my past, I actually feel very disgusted and ashamed at how arrogant and selfish I used to be" Stephen let out a short laugh.

"I believe you were good from the start. A man does not change unless he wants to, unless he believes in it” she told him with a smile, making him smile back.

There was a short moment of silence, and oddly enough, it didn’t feel awkward at all.

"By the way, forgot to mention it, but I like your cape. It looks amazing and suits you quite well” the girl said pointing at the garment.

To her surprise, the cape detached itself from the hanger and flew towards (Y/N) to wrap her in a hug.

"Thank you, It is very grateful" Stephen chuckled at the bonding.

"Aw, such an adorable thing you are, you’re so soft too" she cooed while stroking it.

"Okay, alright, It’s not really a pet-" he spoke, reaching out to the cape, when It smacked his hand away and continued leaning into her.

"Ow- how could you?" the doctor gasped at his companion’s betrayal.

"I think It likes me" (Y/N) grinned with the cape now attached to her instead.

Though despite his words, Stephen did not at all mind the wholesome moment.

2 months later

Running in the streets was a lot weirder than it seemed. Stephen and (Y/N) ran through the crowd as they chased after some type of men who were apparently a threat to the New York Sanctum.

"Stephen, could you not just place us in your mirror dimension thingy? We’re getting weird looks" the girl advised.

"Good idea" he replied and instantly warped the whole street, making it even weirder.

"How are you not getting tired?" the man panted slightly.

"I’m a reaper, it’s part of our abilities” she answered effortlessly.

That’s when the Zealots stopped running. Finally some action! Strange and (Y/N) fought back to back, each having their own powers and weapons.

"Stephen, look out!" he heard her say when he turned around a second too late.

A bullet had pierced his shoulder as he winced in pain and fell to his knees. (Y/N) knocked the last man out and hurriedly rushed to his side.

"Oh god this hurts way more than I expected it to" Strange grunted.

"Wait, wait, hold on" the girl said with a hint of panic in her voice.

She pressed her palms onto his injury, making him shut his mouth to prevent making any noises. A few seconds had passed and the pain was gone. He confusedly checked his shoulder to find it clear of any wounds.

"Wha-"

"I’ve never done that before, but hey, it worked!" she chuckled.

"Why, how else could it have gone?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well, I could have maybe kinda killed you..? I never had a chance to use that ability before so I was a bit skeptical about it" the reaper explained casually.

She then got up and walked up to the previously unconscious man who was now screaming in pain.

"You’re a very bad man, didn’t your parents teach you manners?" she scolded the guy, then proceeded to touch his forehead, turning him into dust.

(Y/N) looked over to her wide eyed friend.

"I transferred your injury onto him. He was mean anyway and a crap human being" she told him matter-of-factly.

"I guess I’m very glad to not be in his place" the sorcerer mumbled to himself.

"Another successful mission!" (Y/N) exclaimed with much enthusiasm.

"I wouldn’t call it a mission, maybe self-defense." Stephen told her.

"Well, everything seems like a mission with you. A cool, badass mission with a cool, badass sorcerer" she proudly stated.

It made his heart flutter, her sole presence made him nervous.

"What would I be without you” he muttered under his breath but with her being a reaper, it didn’t go unnoticed.

"A cool, badass and...very smart sorcerer..?" she spoke bluntly, earning a light chuckle from her partner.

Strange turned to face her and she stopped walking as well.

"(Y/N), I..I’ll be honest- I’m not the best at these uh..confessions. But, I feel joy when you are around. I don’t feel lonely anymore and it makes very happy and I just...I would love to have you...around, more.” the man awkwardly announced.

There was a brief moment of silence which did make him uncomfortable but he didn’t dare speak further.

"Stephen Vincent Strange. The great Sorcerer Supreme- Master of the Mystic Arts. Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?" she said with a strict tone and crossed arms.

"Well, I just thought-"

"Without even asking me, a human reaper, out on a single date?" her voice rose higher.

The doctor was now terrified and seemed to have lost his voice.

"I’m kidding, of course, I’d love to!" she said then jumped to wrap her arms around his neck.

He returned her embrace, relieved but confused at the same time. Unsure of her response, he looked into her (E/C) eyes.

"Wait, really? You’re serious?" he asked.

"Yes! I don’t come across great guys very often, in fact, it’s really rare. And you’re such an amazing man I just- you make me super duper happy too!" she laughed, spreading it to him as well.

"Tell you what, how about we go get a dessert and have a little tea party at home?" Stephen offered when she immediately hopped off of him and sprinted towards the closest bakery.

"We’re eating cake and your opinion doesn’t matter!" the girl yelled, he laughed at how childish she could be.

"Choose quickly, otherwise I’m stepping in!" Stephen yelled back and followed his loved one to her own personal heaven.

[fanfictionconnectionwordpress]

Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | Vanderwood Backstory | Ch. 13 Mistakes Were Maid

***This fanfiction covers my version of Vanderwood which I rp in this Mystic Messenger Discord server. Don’t forget to subscribe to the email list for access to R-Rated Scenes and my monthly newsletter.

You can support my writing on patreon and get access to my VIP Discord Server or other goodies like early chapter releases and hidden scenes. Check out our official artist’s Vandy art!

Chapter Directory.  ~Let’s Connect! FFC***

Seven was packing the things in the car before they would be on their way to the hotel that the target was staying at. First, Seven would get them into the room posing as a maid, and then gather the information from the target's laptop. Vanderwood was just the backup again. He much preferred this to doing hits. However, the redhead was insisting on dressing up as a female maid. Ever since that first time that he'd dressed up for a mission and managed to trick Vanderwood, this just seemed like Seven’s new ‘thing’.

"Hey, remember that one time, Mary..." Vanderwood's eyebrow twitched as his hand went to remove his taser from its hooked position on his leg. The leather straps had flicked away easily, Vanderwood pushing away from the car with his hip to lock eyes with the eccentric younger man. Seven raised his hands, just a flicker of fear under the amused smile. "Nevermind, forget it." He definitely remembered. It wasn't that anything had happened. All he'd done was walk into the hallway Vanderwood had been waiting in, but he'd let Vanderwood hit on him. It had taken ages for Vanderwood to wash the revolting feeling off of his skin. It was like he'd hit on his brother and that was just, no. So much no.

Vanderwood just wanted some peace and quiet as they were driving, but that didn't seem like something Seven was going to allow. The redhead was already putting on his long red wig, and Vanderwood was just trying to pretend that the kid wasn't already in his maid's dress. Seven made a convincing woman, and that was irritating as all Hell. Not that it had any effect on Vanderwood now other than making him want to jump out of the moving vehicle in irritation.

His hands tensed on the steering wheel as soon as Seven started talking in his 'female voice,' and it wasn't long before his eyebrow was twitching again. "I brought you an outfit too!" Seven held it up cheerily before giving Vanderwood a wink and sticking his tongue out at the brunet. "See, we can be matching! Just in case we need to run."

God. Vanderwood was so thankful he had more sense than to grab the little idiot right now, because otherwise they'd be in the ditch or have crashed into one of the other vehicles on the road. "I will not be wearing that. Today or any other day. Throw it out the window." He glanced over at the redhead with as serious a glare as he could muster, which was a pretty serious death glare. Seven just laughed and tucked the dress into his 'purse.' Vanderwood could feel his muscles clenching. Oh good. Irritation before a mission was just his favorite thing.

Now the redhead was just laughing harder. "You'd make a very convincing woman, Mary." Vanderwood bit his tongue and took a deep breath before replying, his jaw clenched rather painfully. "At 6' and as much as I work out. Sure. Very convincing." The redhead wasn't going to stop laughing, and Vanderwood's eyebrow wasn't stopping its twitching anytime soon.

At least once they got to the hotel, Seven had gotten serious. Vanderwood was leaning his head back against the wall outside of the hotel room now. It wouldn't be long before the redhead came out of the room with the information they needed. The agency's newest virus would be used to clear out the laptop after Seven was done too.

After hours of going over just how crucial it was that they make sure to remember to bring the flashdrive containing the virus back, Vanderwood was going to be damn happy if it ended up not working. It was just an added liability on the agency's part the way they currently had it set up. After all the hours Vanderwood had spent watching Seven in his computer classes at college, he was certain that there was some better way to put the virus into use, although what way eluded him.

Seven stuck his head out of the door again just as Vanderwood was about to see what was taking so long. Their file extractors were even faster than anyone else's thanks to Seven's genius abilities with computers and engineering. "Got it?" The redhead nodded, his wig staying on perfectly. How he had gotten so good at dress up was no mystery because now Seven did it all the damn time. Vanderwood bit his tongue and motioned with his head that they should get out of there. His eyes swept the hotel hallway again before he walked off in his designated direction. Seven would act as a maid for another couple of rooms downstairs near the exit before Vanderwood would join him after having a drink at the hotel bar. Nice and simple, quick in, quick out.

***

"What do you mean you left the virus there?" Yup. Vanderwood was pissed. In fact, it felt like there was so much bunched up energy in his body that it needed an escape. That liability, it really was one. A major one. "I'll be down in a second." It would have been much more satisfying hanging up if he still had a flip phone. Fuck. Now he had to go back up to the room and get it out. At least he could take care of it himself.

The hallway was still quiet. After listening at the door and ascertaining that no one was inside, Vanderwood used one of the hotel keys they'd stolen from one of the real maids to enter the room. The flash drive was sitting so nicely in the guy's laptop, it was a wonder that the redheaded idiot could have forgotten it, but there wasn't time to think about it right now.

As soon as Vanderwood had grabbed the drive, the hotel door opened. The target was standing there in shock with a bodyguard. Fan-fucking-tastic. "Hey, you there! What are you doing with my laptop?" Fucking a. Vanderwood grabbed his taser, noticing quickly that the bodyguard was only carrying close range weapons, a police stick actually. He snorted softly as he straightened his shoulders. "I was just-" and then he moved. Seven had higher advantage in the speed department, but against a similarly burly opponent, Vanderwood wasn't so bad. His taser made contact with the man's stomach, making him fall back in shock. Now Vanderwood was running off with the target screaming out after him. "Stop that man!"

By the time Vanderwood had made it down the stairs to the maintenance room rendezvous, there were hotel staff everywhere. Hell, it was a miracle he'd even made it to the maintenance room. His heart was racing and he was actually out of breath, but as soon as he saw the redhead, that desire to punch him in the gut was back. "You ass! How the Hell am I supposed to get out of here now with the place swarming with staff?" Even though he was absolutely pissed, Vanderwood kept his voice quiet, whisper yelling.

The snicker that escaped the redhead made Vanderwood's eyebrow go absolutely insane. "What? What. Is. So. Funny." It took Seven a couple of minutes to completely bite back the uproarious laughter that wanted to escape him. The brunet was really missing that serious attitude his partner usually had while working. Ever since that damn girl had joined Seven’s little club the redhead had gotten worse. Vanderwood was obviously missing out on the best joke ever. Except he wasn't. Now Seven was pulling out that dress from earlier and held it out to the brunet. "You sure you're never wearing a dress?"

***

Vanderwood wanted to punch something. Every muscle in his body was aching as he was driving them back home. The redhead was still laughing his ass off and still taking pictures. He'd even managed to get one selfie style and Vanderwood was seriously considering tasing the kid to death once they got back to the garage. "I'm going to kill you."

Seven snickered and laughed some more, wiping tears away from his eyes. "Don't worry Vanderwood. At least no one else will ever see them, right?" After shooting some more glares Seven's way, nonverbally telling him 'They better fucking not' Vanderwood looked back out the window. As soon as he was home he was having a smoke and finding himself a hooker. At least that would be some revenge, since Seven hated when he had his women over, but Hell, Seven deserved it.

It was the redhead’s fault for never doing his work anymore that had made Vanderwood move in with him in the first place in favor of living with him again over being killed for not finishing assignments. The kid was going to put on his noise cancelling headphones anyway, and it was Seven's fault that Vanderwood wasn't able to relax. Vanderwood was going to delete this night from his memory, because this whole mission felt like one huge mistake.

Like this? Want more? Become a Patron.  ~Let’s Connect! FFC

[theragamuffininitiative]

Write Your Own Questions Tag Post Thingy

My pal @gods-little-punk tagged me in this! :D Thanks, Pun Friend!

Rules: Answer the 11 questions given to you (below my answered questions), then create 11 of your own questions for 11 people you tag to answer.

1. Would you rather have the ability to fall asleep on command, or the ability to fully wake up on command? If by “fully wake up” you mean well-rested and invigorated and ready for the day, definitely the latter. I already am pretty okay with falling asleep anywhere. *cough* I almost fell asleep while driving this last week that was bad whoops *cough*

2. What is your favorite personality trait about you? *screams* Why would you make me answer something like this?? Um. People talk to me? Like, people seem to see that they can trust me, and whether it’s irl or online, I apparently am just That Person and friends and coworkers open up to me a lot. Which, don’t get me wrong, can be a burden sometimes, but it’s really cool that I apparently put off these vibes of being the sort of person you can talk and entrust things to?

3. Hemsworth, Evans, Pratt, or Pine? LOL Pine or Pratt. Pratt is just seems like a super cool doofus and I love him, and Pine is in my humble and possibly wrong opinion the best actor of the bunch, plus I could listen to him talk all day.

4. DC or Marvel? Favorite character from each? Maaarveelllll all the way. Favorite character from Marvel: Hawkeye! ;) Favorite character from DC: ... ... Winn Schott Jr. (big surprise lol)

5. Would you rather be able to create original art perfectly or create original music perfectly? MUSIC. Goshdang if I could create music.... O.O I would never doubt what career to go into again and I would insert myself into the Broadway world quick as you please.

6. What’s one thing someone has said that totally changed the way you saw something? Oh, wow. Okay. Recently my pastor has been doing a series on abiding in Christ, and how he sees a problem with today’s church in the fact that we work work work at religion - at trying to Obey. We read Jesus saying: “If you love me you will keep my commands” as saying “the way you show me whether you love me or not is by obedience, if you’re not obeying you don’t love me enough” when what matches up with Scripture is actually “if you love me, obedience will come.” Fess up time: I’ve been struggling with faith, and this has been a large part of it. It’s not my obedience level that needs to grow, it’s my love. It’s my wanting of Him, it’s my abiding and trusting and resting in Him. Everything else comes with that. And that is such a huge relief to me personally, it’s a way that like... I know, but I’ve never looked at it like that. It’s freeing - and I don’t mean selfishly freeing, but a reminder that He is more than enough for everything. And I can abide in Him. All the rest will come too.

7. Favorite holiday and your favorite thing about it? It’s a tie between Christmas and Independence Day. Christmas... I mean, it’s Christmas! :D Independence Day, aside from bringing out the red-blooded patriot in me, is an amazing time for my family to get together and celebrate and it’s like the only part about summer that I like at all. XD

8. What’s something you want to be remembered for? Courage and kindness. The concept of being asked “how do you do it” and the ability to answer “Christ.” (Newsflash, I’ve majorly failed this on at least two occasions that I regret every day, so #biggoals)

9. Why did the chicken really cross the road? If you have enough chickens and enough roads, odds are there exists the eventuality that the former will inevitably cross the latter.

10. If you could meet one person (celebrity, internet friend, person from the past) without it being awkward, who would it be? EVERYONE. I WANT TO MEET EVERYONE IN A NON-AWKWARD STATE. Okay, but, seriously. Picking just one (*sounds of indecisive pain*) Ramin Karimloo. In a relaxed setting, not at a stage door or anything, and I would in a short and concise way and without blubbering tell him what he’s meant to me and thank him.

11. If you could bring a fictional character to life, without it disrupting both the fictional and real world, who would it be? WHY WITH ALL THE HARD QUESTIONS PUN FRIEND? Winn Schott Jr., Clint Barton, Artham Wingfeather. All three of them. Fight me.

My turn!

1. You’ve had a long week, there’s enough money leftover to really treat yourself, what do you do?

2. Broadway/film musicals: YAY or eh?

3. #TheMostUnderappreciatedCharacterInYourOpinion

4. Pancakes or Waffles?

5. The longest distance you’ve biked/hiked/swum/run?

6. In video games (if you don’t play, pretend), are you the person who tries to stay good the longest or the one who kills everything to get stronger and make it through the levels unscathed?

7. An unpopular opinion:

8. Best gift you’ve ever given to someone else?

9. Favorite inspirational/encouraging quote:

10. If you had to: the historical time period and place, not just to visit, but find yourself stuck in and you live the rest of your life there?

11. Tell me a story. :)

Tagging (if you want to do it <3 )

@itsdoomisaudible @mybrainsonvacation @psalm40speakstome @pontmarius @dawn101907 @toswimamongthestars @beautyinsteadofashes @shenzi-hemlock @yourfavoriteirishcherokee @shakespeareandsprinkles @throwaninkpot

And anyone I didn’t tag who wants to join in! (the rules say 11 or I’d tag everyone lol)

[oxfordeliterp]

CONGRATULATIONS, AREEJ!

You have been accepted to play the role of CHARLOTTE ZERILLI with the faceclaim of VANESSA HUDGENS. Please create your account and send it to the main in the next 24 hours. When I say that picking the player of Charlotte took me thirty whole minutes after I have read all three applications (impossibly beautiful, all three, and impossible to compare, for they were three different Charlottes that I wanted to see shifted into three different characters, all played in the roleplay group’s context), it’s not a hyperbole. I read about Charlotte being the heiress, the wasp and the strategic, and I honestly couldn’t possibly tell which I liked most, reason why I have literally written this acceptance message for two of the three versions and was ready to post it. I have changed the application under the cut three times and it haunts me how difficult of a choice you have made this for me. I am going to encourage everybody who has applied and didn’t get the role they wanted to reapply, because I would genuinely want you all, but you two (you know who you are) I feel like the roleplay group would be incomplete without. You all had the misfortune of falling in love with the same character. If the Gods love me and if you do end up reapplying, I’m going to be the happiest person alive. It’s unfair; you are all mob princesses to me, right now.

Now to focus on you, Areej. Sorry for the intro, thank you for the wonderful application. I cannot stress how much love I have for every detail you have put into this. It is obvious to me that you are a skilled writer with a capacity and understanding for the human nature that cannot go unnoticed. The para sample was so flawlessly executed that it stuck in my mind. Every little detail you have included made me eager to see your Charlotte on the dashboard. I want to meet her and see where she goes wrong. The amount of research you put into the application has not gone unnoticed. What can I say? And right then, she finally understood what godfather meant.

Name and pronouns: Areej (alternatively Queen, your fave, empress, so on and so forth) & she/her

Age: 17

Time-zone: GMT

Activity level: Right at this very moment, while procrastination is at an all time high, a lot. If I don’t get off by mid-June please kick my ass.

Triggers:  removed for privacy

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Desired character: Charlotte Zerilli

I love her a lot. (ok duh I love her a lot or I wouldn’t be applying for her. look @ me stating the obvious.) But on a more serious and hopefully less obvious note, what I’m always drawn towards is characters’ relationships, and Charlotte’s, I feel, have the potential to be very interesting because she’s almost always superior. Not in a mean way. It’s just how it is. Charlotte Zerilli is everything, has everything, and no matter how approachable and friendly she paints herself as, lingering around her is an air of superiority she can’t seem to wash off. This is what creates chasms. Between her and whoever she’s talking to, there’s a distance. And it’s kinda sad because she longs to have close, personal relationships, but feels like she can’t because nobody understands her, and she thinks nobody can. It’ll be fun. i love making beautiful, complex characters suffer bye

Gender and pronouns of the character: Cis female (she/her)

Changes: As much as I love Shay Mitchell, I wanna request an fc change to Vanessa Hudgens! I just have more muse for her. idk idk

Traits:

CURIOUS  ━ As a child, bright and starry eyed, there was a lot about the world around her that Charlotte didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t necessarily because anyone was hiding anything from her (for there weren’t many secrets in the Zerilli household. There was no shame, no need). Rather, there was so much for her to learn and so little time. She wished to know everyone and everything intimately. Twenty years on and not much has changed, although she’s become more subtle in her questions and artful in her use of information.

SECRETIVE ━ Charlotte has this curious ability of making it seem like she over-shares, is honest and straightforward, but there are worlds and worlds she hides. Mainly, what she perceives to be her weaknesses. The most obvious is prooobably the Mafia thing. While she’s become more accepting of it (or, more specifically, the softer aspects of it - i’ll explain later), it’s still not something she talks openly about. Still, it subconsciously shapes her. Behind her mercy, her kindness, is a vain attempt to balance out her family’s crimes. She overcompensates for wrongs she didn’t commit. Not only this, but she doesn’t really talk about her feelings, either, internalising emotion and stress to the point of it being physically detrimental. She’s also big on denial. Always running.

COMPASSIONATE ━ It is perhaps this that came as the biggest surprise to her father and mother although, to be fair, they should’ve expected it. Instead of being given half the love, the Zerilli twins received double from their parents. There was not a moment Charlotte was allowed to feel alone. Her heart surges with the same affection for everyone, not just reserved for family like her father’s is.

VERSATILE ━ Multifaceted and adaptable, Charlotte can go from sleep-deprived academic, slaving away in one of Oxford’s many libraries to out-of-your-league party girl to loyal, advice-giving friend whenever it’s required of her. (Not that her heart truly fits into the moulds she creates for herself, but that’s another story.) The girl prides herself in being able to talk to anyone about pretty much any trivial topic. It is, she believes, an ode to having so many different people around to engage in idle chatter with her growing up, united by nothing but their ties to the Mafia. Her variety of talents, too, (piano, violin, dancing, tennis, painting – it goes on) showcase how her ability knows no limits.

FICKLE ━ An extension of above: because she’s everything, she’s nothing, really. Charlotte’s ephemeral and changeable. Always evolving. Indecisive. Not only about what to eat or what to wear, but about herself and her beliefs, too. For example, she no longer resents her bloodline, which was one of the strong moral stances she took as a teenager. Her perception is constantly changing. And because she’s so perceptive and intelligent, Charlotte can appreciate arguments and situations from different angles – being stubborn in a view means the exclusion of another, so she remains, like air, unsure, always hovering in between poles, restless.

SUPERIOR ━ She’s been running and running from it but, like everything, one chilling fact has caught up to her and there’s no denying it, at least not to herself: Charlotte Zerilli is lonely. How? In a room crowded with awestruck admirers, how is it possible that she feels so isolated? That’s exactly it – everyone’s just an awestruck admirer. Nobody’s really on her level (except Miles !!!! love it).

DEMANDING ━ Of herself. Of others. Her standards are about as high as the walls around her

Extras:

For the course, I was thinking something partly humanitarian – in a vain attempt to, perhaps, ask the God she desperately believed in for forgiveness (saving lives to redeem all those lost at the hands of her family) – with strong scientific elements because she’s lowkey a nerd. aka Medicine. I can go into a lot of unnecessary, extra depth about this decision if you want me to but that was the condensed version

MUSINGS: (faves are bolded) one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven when will i stop twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen probably never sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen and finally twenty

PARA SAMPLE

did i accidentally write a short novella? yes. i’d apologise but i’m not sorry for making you read this

He’d been asking for years (and years and years) and, for a reason Charlotte couldn’t explain more tangibly than it felt right, on this mild Tuesday afternoon, she’d finally agreed. She’d go with him. “Yes. I’m ready,” she’d said, standing in his excessively large office that morning, voice betraying only a slight hesitation. He hadn’t picked up on it. Nobody ever really did. Rather, the light – was that pride? – Charlotte saw swimming to the surface of her father’s eyes served to remind her why she’d ever come back in the first place.

So she smiled, ducked her head and walked with him. As they weaved through the streets of Detroit, she was vaguely aware that this wasn’t a typical Don errand – not that she really knew what that was, granted, having spent the majority of her life actively not knowing. Of course, she’d heard whispers. How could she not have? She’d heard stories about how members of La Cosa Nostra beat people up, stole from them, killed them. Under her father’s orders. But Charlotte had never dared to bring it up with him. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle the confession. (Because, who was she kidding, it would’ve been a confession.)

If this was the case, what was she doing here and now? Staring into the eyes of the beast? God knows, she thought, kicking a can that was littering her path, adding to the little mound of rubbish piling up on the side of the road. But she sort of knew, too; it’d been, perhaps, a moment of weakness on her part. For resistance was so tiring. Running was tiring. She craved nothing more than her mother’s arms, her father’s kiss. So Charlotte did something that just a few years ago, she believed was synonymous with weakness, and maybe it was: she surrendered.

“This is it, Tesoro,” her father said at length. She glanced up to find they’d stopped in front of a house – or, she supposed, it was more of a shack. Charlotte watched as he brought his knuckles to the door, about to knock, the gold of his rings forming a stark contrast with the red, peeling paint.

Everything inside her screamed run, run, run. This wouldn’t end up well. No doubt. She was on the brink of witnessing her very first Mafia crime, about to stare into the heart of the Partnership’s – her family’s – sins. Guilt eyed her, licking its lips. It’d swallow her whole.

“N – no. Stop. Please. I can’t do this.” She felt sick. She had to get out of here.

He looked at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment before his gaze flitted to the Capo who’d been trailing behind them. When he turned back to his daughter, his head tilted to the side, as if he understood her concern, and he smiled. In that second he was no longer the Godfather, but just her father. “Come on, Charlotte. Don’t you trust me?” But he changed back again. He always changed back again. Before she could answer (and the answer, as much as she hated it, in this moment, it would’ve probably been no), he’d already knocked at the door.

This was it.

The boy who answered couldn’t have been more than nineteen. Upon realising who it was, his eyes darkened, she guessed in fear, as she’d seen so many others’ do in his presence. They knew what he was capable of. If they even made one wrong move, they’d be, quite literally, dead. She wished it was over already.

“Boss,” he spluttered, bringing her father’s hand to his lips and kissing it.

The older Zerilli nodded in greeting. “This is my daughter, Charlotte.” As the boy moved to kiss her hand, too, her resolve faltered. Surely people didn’t introduce their kids to people they were about to murder. Then again, she didn’t know enough about Mafia customs to recognise that this wasn’t a murder mission at all, that he had people for that, and that this was a compassionate one.

“Will you come in? I can make – what d’you want? Tea? Coffee? I have Scotch.”

Her attention piqued; so she was wrong. Huh. Interesting. If not to beat this kid up, why were they here, then? Her eyes wandered inside, past the boy in the doorway, trying to pick up clues as her dad answered, “Not today. I just came to deliver this.” He handed him a thick envelope. Cash. It had to be. “How is she?”

“A lot better, Boss. Thank you so much for this. It really –”

He held up a hand to silence him. “Of course. It is our duty to help our family, at any cost.”

As they continued this conversation, it occurred to Charlotte, tuned out of the world and into her own mind for a moment, that she’d got it so very wrong. Maybe this wasn’t all bad. An odd sense of honour filled her at the scene; the same father who steadfastly looked out for her and her brother was using his position to look out for this (what she presumed was a) picciotto, too, and if there was one, there may be many more. They were – in his eyes – family. The Detroit Partnership. All the racketeering and the beating were somehow justified, at least a little bit, in her mind by this one act of compassion. How could she have been so judgmental before? It was her father’s blood that coursed through her veins, that made her strive to protect those who could not protect themselves. People like the ‘she’ he’d referred to. And who was she? Probably a sick relative. Mother, sister. It didn’t matter, really – all she knew was that it was someone who needed help. Help that the capofamiglia provided.

And right then, she finally understood what godfather meant.

[badfurrynoyiff-blog]

BF-NY! Issue 1 Hypernormalization is Tearing the Furry World Apart, Not Nazis

Not only is the idea of a “Nazi Furry” absurd, it is an idea that real Neo-Nazis renounce. The real danger comes from violent and divisive tactics from financial interests.

As a young, impressionable teen I thought that this fandom would be a way to meet wonderful people. For a time it, was. Without the community I surely would have taken a dark road in life. Hell, I might have died. If it weren’t for the furs who opened their homes to me, I would still be living in squalor subject to an abusive, addicted family.

I have seen great things from this community. Without it, I wouldn’t have my spouse of five years. I would have never been able to draw like I do now. I wouldn't have found the ability to dance, and voice act. I have never seen this community as anything more than folks who appreciate art. (Also, they like dog dicks) For all the highs the community has given me, it has beaten me down with some of my biggest lows. For the longest time I was able to ignore the shit in the fandom. Slowly, it started to consume my friends as the rampage of the (3rd wave) feminist mind virus took my “second” family. I have often thought to myself that it is just from getting older, or maybe I am a shitty person. As of 2010 the fandom began to look much like my abusive dysfunctional family I left behind. Today, my god, I have no idea how anyone could feel comfortable in this fandom. The sheer amount of back stabbing, negative attitudes, toxic politics. I honestly feel a strange mixture of shame and anxiety when dealing in anything furry.

So, I left. I saw the abuse, I saw the pattern of addiction I was forming with competing to stay “relevant.” No joke. Someone has called me “Irrelevant” for not participating in cringe inducing fads, or agreeing with popular opinion. I think my last straw was when: someone made a website to keep me out  of the community; not even minutes after his friend called me irrelevant. Why? I didn’t want to be part of fandom popularity contests, I regularly stood up to bullies.

Jaret Reddick’s voice rings full in my head:

...You still don't have the right look, And you don't have the right friends, Nothing changes but the faces, the names and the trends High school never ends!

So, as of writing this blog there is currently a “furry war” the likes of which has never been seen. Forget The YouTube War, Burned Furs, or the Babyfur War. This has become a war that defies all logic, all reason, it has transcended into mainstream media, and boy howdy! It even barged it’s way right into my life. I thought I put furry behind me, nope. Nah son! It’s time that you lose your gaming friends over fucking furry drama. Cause guess what, your gaming buddies are Anti-Fa, and one of them happens to be a gender-queer babyfur. Whoops!

Pray tell what calamity would tear drama would reach a closet furry all the way in EvE Online? Of all things “Furry Nazis.” I managed to get into a fight about the existence of fucking Nazi furries. I made the fatal mistake of linking a “anti-semetic” video: Shut it Down. I won’t link that one here, but if you are familiar with chan culture, the reference is obvious. Because, RMFC getting shut down  by terrorist threats from a Jewish, communist, anti-fa, squat lord is honestly some of the funniest and stereotypical shit I ever heard.

(The answer is no.)

Consider my almonds fully activated

Thank goodness that the Rolling Stone still has some journalistic integrity. They did what many furries fail to do. RS recognized the “Furry Raiders” as a troll group. Something that is very obvious if you aren’t huffing Peggy Mcintosh’s intellectual queefs. If you don’t know who she is the matriarch of “Third Wave Feminism.” She literally wrote the book on Privilege .

“All white people live in a Disney movie!” - Peggy Mcintosh  Let’s detract from furries and focus on her assertions first, suspend your personal feelings on this subject matter. As with disproving all manor of intellectual guffaws we can easily break down the falsities of “white male privilege.”  In-case you missed it here is the link to “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.” I’ll give you a few moments to check your privilege. Done? Good. What you just read is by far one of the most intellectually unsound, racist, misandrist, and presumptuous pieces of collegiate refuse ever to be seen. If you didn't gleam that from what you read, just change some words around. Everyone experiences lack of privilege according to this list. But, racists on either side would have you believe differently.  I’m not going to go over all 50 points, (most of them being redundant) rather just the ones that scream "that's racist, Peggy.”

1. I can if I wish arrange to be in the company of people of my race most of the time 

By the first bullet point, we are already in “all whites are racist” territory. I am hard pressed to find people who are not hardcore racists who actually care about the race of others. I can not think of the last time I sincerely said “Gee I sure do wish I had more WHITE PEOPLE to hang out with!”  Like.... really? 

Isn’t this a privilege shared by most people, except white Europeans?

2. I can avoid spending time with people whom I was trained to mistrust and who have learned to mistrust my kind or me. 

Honestly, this is what this is all about. Isn’t it? Projecting your insecurities onto others.

7. When I am told about our national heritage or about “civilization,” I am shown that people of my color made it what it is

That’s because they did. The United States was colonized by Anglo-Saxons, who brought disease to the Native Population. They also relied on slave-labor as many undeveloped nations still do today. Slavery is present in every societal history. Industrialization was the end of slavery. Shit, all of civilization is due to people of any color. This statement is to explicitly demonize whites, as the US largely developed under white colonial rule. However, if you looked a Indian, or Chinese history book, it would largely show Indian or Chinese people, correct? Facts are facts. Whitewashing/Blackwashing of history is abhorrent; intellectually and socially.

8. I can be sure that my children will be given curricular materials that testify to the existence of their race.

This is the most obvious one to attack. I don't recall being told of different white heritages/races as a child. In-fact, I was labeled a white supremacist for recognizing more than one race of “white” people. Reasoning: “Culture comes from race! Not the other way around!”

20. I can do well in a challenging situation without being called a credit to my race

This is one of the only every-day racist statements in this entire handout. As a white person I have been called a “credit to my race” by a real Neo-Nazi, in a sarcastic manor. I cant think of any situation where anyone except racists or really ignorant folks would say this.

21. I am never asked to speak for all the people of my racial group 

No one asked you to do it, and here you are. Shame on you.

22. I can remain oblivious of the language and customs of persons of color who constitute the world’s majority without feeling in my culture any penalty for such oblivion

Currently, how I live I suffer social penalty for not understanding languages or customs. I am a foodie. I like to cook culturally authentic food. I try to speak as many major languages as possible. I travel. As you can imagine, I have the wealth to support it. In my personal culture; it is damaging to be ignorant.

23. I can criticize our government and talk about how much I fear its policies and behavior without being seen as a cultural outsider. 

So you teach people to feel like cultural outsiders... and then tell them its a privilege to not feel that way?

25. If a traffic cop pulls me over or if the IRS audits my tax return, I can be sure I haven’t been singled out because of my race.

This entire essay is racial profiling, but then implies not being racially profiled is a privilege of whites?

27. I can go home from most meetings of organizations I belong to feeling somewhat tied in, rather than isolated, out-of-place, outnumbered, unheard, held at a distance or feared.

So basically the opposite of how, straight, white, right leaning people are treated at college?

28. I can be pretty sure that an argument with a colleague of another race is more likely to jeopardize her/his chances for advancement than to jeopardize mine. 

A privilege granted explicitly to non-whites.

31. I can choose to ignore developments in minority writing and minority activist programs, or disparage them, or learn from them, but in any case, I can find ways to be more or less protected from negative consequences of any of these choices.

Uhh, isn’t this the piece of literature responsible for spawning a domestic terrorist group? Is it not that groups sole interest that  the construction of a communist anti-white ethnostate?  I’m not kidding. AntiFa/BlackBloc/BLM and Nation of Islam are the same movement. Am I not considered “problematic” simply for being white, male, and conservative? Do I not have to fear being “reprimanded” by revolution coming to my home town?  “By any means necessary” right AntiFa?

32. My culture gives me little fear about ignoring the perspectives and powers of people of other races.

I’m pretty sure people want to behead me, oven me, hang me, stone me, etc based on my race, sexuality, political stance, and religion. Many of them have the power and will to do so.

34. I can worry about racism without being seen as self-interested or self-seeking.

White folks get the worst when it comes to this. I am not allowed to worry about my culture dying without someone calling me a bigot. Likewise, I can’t be a champion for other races without being seen as a traitor or a SJW.

35. I can take a job with an affirmative action employer without having my co-workers on the job suspect that I got it because of my race.

I can’t take any job without it be attributed to my white male privilege now a days.

36. If my day, week or year is going badly, I need not ask of each negative episode or situation whether it had racial overtones. 

You should as that 67 year old woman who got socked for wearing a red cap about that one.

38. I can think over many options, social, political, imaginative or professional, without asking whether a person of my race would be accepted or allowed to do what I want to do.

“CULTURAL APPROPRIATION!” “RACIST!” “NAZI!” “WHITE SUPREMACIST” “PROBLEMATIC!” “ANTISEMITISM!” 

42. I can arrange my activities so that I will never have to experience feelings of rejection owing to my race.

If I was in college as a white male, I would be rejected an awful lot right now.

49. My children are given texts and classes which implicitly support our kind of family unit and do not turn them against my choice of domestic partnership.

What about my college students being sucked into a mind virus that teaches them that heterosexuality is abhorrent? “Sex Junk” anyone?

50. I will feel welcomed and “normal” in the usual walks of public life, institutional and social.

Unless you go slapping yourself with a snowflake gender (Outside of he, her, they), or you decide to rock a tail and Tripp Chains to work, I don't imagine sees anyone as abnormal; unless they themselves are.

You get the picture. While reading some of these bullet points did you feel a pang of polarization? You did? That’s the point.

Pictured: My heritage, also a potential hate symbol. 

What is hypernormalization, and what does it have to do with White Privilege?

 Since the 1970s, right around the “end” of the Cold War, most of the world’s cultures have been under attack by the same forces that fueled the Cold War. This has been detailed by a BBC documentary by the name of “HyperNormalization” likewise I used this to describe the current culture war in the Furry Fandom. This culture war is just a microcosm of current global culture. It is the march of Hypernormaliation.

Just what is this strange buzzword I have never heard before? Well, it is just what it sounds like. It is the hyper-normalization of everything: racism, communism, anarchism, sexuality, gender, furry, pedophilia, tribal conflict, consumerisim, etc. You name it, it is being normalized.

I am not going to go into full crazy territory and tell you that there is a plan to take over everyone (like the documentary suggests). Rather, I think this is a result of  ‘primitive’ humans and global communication. Our cultural war is of people clinging to their last vestiges of identity; and the instinct to dominate with their identity. It could be Social, Fiscal, or Theological dominance; the motivator is always power and capital.  Very few are capable of altruism, those who believe they are being altruistic, are not. It’s easy to tell when people start using or citing various *isims; and/or minimizing the struggles of others; it is for personal or herd gain, not out of altruism. Internet, public schooling, universities, and mass media have hypernormalized us all. Very few see themselves as a driven gear, rather, they see themselves as the driver gear in the great machine. Rarely do people today form their own opinions. As we are dying as individuals, desperate for identity we fight anyone trying to take that tiny piece of humanity away.  Which brings us back to to the truth of #altfurry, Furry Raiders, RMFC, Deo, Leftist, QuQu, “Bronies for Trump” etc; anyone else who is participating in this dumpster fire for anything more than schadenfreude. They are the hypernormalised. Even though #altfurry fights “pedophile” babyfurs, even though the SJWs fight the “nazi furries” neither of them actually exists for anything more than gaining social capital.

So what can you do?

Simple: Ignore them. Just do you. Make your gross porn, wear your Akransas suit, support Trump, but don’t force yourself on others. Don’t force your warped sensitivities on society because you don’t feel recognized. Likewise don’t force your identity on others. Accept them, they will accept you. You can’t hope to change people by ostracizing them, that only breeds more contempt and tribal behavior. Your identity is not unique, you are a human being. Unless you take the human race to Type 3 status, nothing you do actually matters. Neither should the personal tastes and and thoughts of others affect you now.

Pictured: a furry who gives no fucks.

If you have made it this far, congrats.

You most likely care about this fandom, and not warped, self service causes.

Do your part, ex-communicate those who only seek to defend themselves, and only themselves. The thirds side, is always the most moral.

[battleborntap]

First Person Shooters as a genre have been around since Doom was released in 1993, and ever since, it has been widely considered one of the most liked genres (at least by Americans). With a wide variety of games and an even wider variety to the genre itself, let's take a look at some of my personal favorites!

Please note, these games all take place in the first person perspective, and have one of their main mechanics involving firing a gun or weapon of some kind. Games like Mirror's Edge and The Stanley Parable are omitted on the grounds that they are more First Person Puzzle Solvers rather than shooters, despite having the ability to shoot in these games. Also, I will only be doing one game from any given franchise, simply because I could pack this list with four or five sequels easy with all the games I've played. And finally, I can't say this enough, this is all based on my personal favorites and opinions. If you don't agree, that's fine! We all have our favorites, but this is simply a way for me to talk about mine!

So, without further delay, here are my Top Ten Favorite First Person Shooter Games!

#10. CALL OF DUTY: BLACK OPS (2010)

Of course a Call of Duty game made it onto this list, and MAN what a game it is! Call of Duty: Black Ops released on Ps3 and Xbox 360 in 2010 to much fan praise, and is often considered one of the last good Call of Duty games. While I am quick to argue that point (Advanced Warfare brought a focus to story for the first time in years and Black Ops 2 had probably, in my opinion, the best multiplayer in recent history), The original Black Ops had all three main modes (Story, Multiplayer and Zombies) on point for the launch of the game.

While the Multiplayer may not have aged well for the game, the Story mode is simply wonderful, and unlike the rest of the Black Ops series, YOU CAN UNDERSTAND WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING IN THE STORY! If you have to read a plot summary to fully understand what the hell happened in it, it's not a good story. As for Zombies, simply letting players become former presidents and fighting time traveling nazi zombies...what more do i need to say?

Overall, it's an impressive game by all accounts. It helped to prove that Treyarch had what it took to keep delivering on the CoD formula, and while it wasn't World at War 2 like me and several others had hoped for (Still hoping for it, personally), it was a great game to play all the same.

#9. DOOM (2016)

Doom is the grand daddy of all First Person Shooters, and the latest iteration into the franchise really does not disappoint. With brutal carnage kills, impressive graphics, and a return to what made the franchise fun in the first place, DOOM (2016) is easily one of the best games of that respective year.

The story is as basic as it comes; Hell has invaded Mars, and you were about to be sacrificed when s**t goes sideways. You escape, get a Master Chief Power Armor ripoff, and fight through rooms and hordes of Demons to try and prevent Hell from getting to Earth...You know, like the last three Dooms!

The combat in this is where it truly shines, giving you the ability to kill enemies when they are weakened with brutal finishing attacks. The weapons are all fantastic, and the enemies are tough, but manageable. The real problems are outside the story; Multiplayer seems tacked on and rushed, while SnapMap, the mode I was really excited for, is basically just Corridor maker, the more. Still, the story itself is fun as all hell...

#8. BIOSHOCK (2007)/ BIOSHOCK INFINITE (2013)

This one might seem like a bit of a cheat, but hear me out...I personally feel that these games are very much the same thanks to something called "Service to the Brand."

Let me ask you this. Why do people in Bioshock use plasmids? They are a part of a world where everything has gone to Hell, and now they need to do whatever they need to survive, including injecting themselves with chemicals to give them super powers! Now why do they do it in Bioshock Infinite use vigors, which are basically plasmids?...There's really no reason is there? The reason they use them is because the last two games released had Plasmids, and it wouldn't be the same game without them!

This is a common problem with sequels that differ from their original game, and honestly, the only reason I decided to lump them together is that, aside from story and some situations you encounter, they are basically the same game. Well crafted gun play with elemental magics, expertly written dialogue and story, and an all around impressive and fun universe to explore, these games fill me with a sense of wonder each time I play them. If I had to choose one, it would have to be Infinite, but it's by such a slim margin that I felt it best to lump them together. My list, my rules...

Also, We don't talk about Bioshock 2...just...no.

#7. STAR WARS: BATTLEFRONT (2015, Fight Me)

I know the original Battlefront games are well regarded and adored. I know many of the people who played this felt betrayed and hurt by the micro transactions and lack of content. I know it just feels like Battlefield with a Star Wars skin...But you know what? I don't care!

Star Wars: Battlefront is the Star Wars game I wanted to play when I first put the original Battlefront into my PS2. Was I disappointed by the lack of content? Sure. Did it feel like a cash grab on EA's part because they has acquired the license? Of course, it's EA. But I still enjoy the hell out of it.

The game play is fun and engaging, as well as more balanced than some large scale shooters. The available content, while infuriating that it's behind paywalls and a slow progression system, are rewarding and fun. The Heroes are overpowered, but not too much. Overall, I feel the game is good for one simple fact; for the first time in years, I felt like I was in the boots of a Stormtrooper.

Also, you occasionally get a Wilhelm scream to occur when you kill someone...so there's that.

#6. LEFT 4 DEAD 2 (2009)

How do you make a sequel to a decently balanced multiplayer zombie shooter? Change only who you play as and what their main quest is, then add more! That's exactly what Valve did with Left 4 Dead 2, and it worked great.

Playing as four new survivors with fun personalities, the game introduced three new special infected to deal with on top of the five introduced in the last games, the addition of choosing melee weapons instead of pistols, and helped to balance old issues and new ones that made the game well rounded and just plain fun to play ,whether you were with friends or a few randoms online.

Then Valve went one step further; They added in new content through DLC, some of which included the original five levels from the first game, where you can play as the first four survivors in the first five campaigns from the original game, but with the new enemies, weapons and everything! In general, Left 4 Dead 2 is just a damn fantastic game is you AXE me! HAHA!!

            I'm sorry...

#5. HALO 3 (2007)

Bungie hit pay dirt with the Halo franchise, and the third installment in the game is where all that effort peaked. Great gun play, multiplayer modes, and engaging story line that (mostly) resolved the conflicts of the last two games and more, the game was damn impressive on Xbox 360 when it came out, leading to it becoming the fifth best selling game on the console!

This was one of the big games me and my friends played for days on end, sometimes literally. It's one of the first games to give me a true love for shotguns in first person shooters, and the rest of the games since haven't felt as impacting to me. They've been fun to play, but this was the last game that made me truly enjoy the franchise in a nostalgic sense.

Maybe I'm just getting old? Maybe...

#4. PORTAL 2 (2011)

Portal 2 is much like Left 4 Dead 2; change little to nothing about the game, but improve the writing, add more content, and fix some bugs from the previous game. Unlike Left 4 Dead, however, this game didn't have a multiplayer mode in the original, so this one added one!

While the first game was a series of puzzles linked loosely together by an uncaring, vindictive god/computer named GLaDOS yelling at you and calling you names, the second game is a series of puzzles linked loosely together by an uncaring, vindictive god/ computer named GLaDOS yelling at you and calling you fat before you overthrow her and put a mentally inept ball in her place who slowly begins destroying everything around you, shoves GLaDOS into a potato and sends you both into a 1950's version of the labs you were exploring to be yelled at by a 1950's style billionaire voiced by J.K. Simmons!

The puzzles introduce familiar and new concepts, keeping them fresh well into the game. The dialogue is on point through out, with minimal dialogue feeling out of place or forced. The humor is even better than the first, allowing for visual gags more than the first game did and a few running jokes to boot. Ultimately, an impressive sequel to an already impressive game.

Also, this game made me fear/ hate certain birds...just sayin'

#3. BORDERLANDS 2 (2012)

how do you top a game that had literally a bajillion guns, a rapid fire sense of humor AND a cell shaded art style set in a semi-unique world? MORE GUNS! MORE HUMOR! MORE CELLS SHADED! AND A VILLAIN!

Yeah...if you really think about it, the first game didn't really have a main villain. Sure you had some minor ones, like Baron Flynt and Mad Mel, but they were more like sub-bosses than anything. Borderlands 2 had plenty of sub-bosses, but also gave us MOTHERF**KIN' HANDSOME JACK, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS THE BEST VIDEO GAME VILLAIN OF ALL TIME EVER PERIOD! With an actual story to get through, a villain to thwart, tons of fun new characters and old returning ones, as well as giving personality to the playable characters and the first games characters who act as NPC's this time around, the game did everything it needed to and then some.

This game established Borderlands as a franchise that's here to stay, and with follow-ups including The Pre-Sequel (Not bad, but not great) and Tales from the Borderlands (Fantastic Story, weird execution thanks to it being a TellTale game), there's no doubt in my mind that Borderlands is here to stay...

Can't really say the same for Battleborn...which is sad cause I kind of liked that one...

#2. OVERWATCH (2016)

Honestly, how could this one NOT be on this list? What is easily one of the best new franchises in YEARS, Overwatch brought exactly what it needed, and we keep getting more! With new characters and game modes being added, as well as regular balancing updates and more, the game shows no sign of slowing down.

If I had one complaint, it's that the game doesn't have a story mode. That said, we get plenty of information about the world and its characters thanks to digital comics, animated shorts, in-game dialogue and costumes, and a few other means. The roster is rich with diversity and ranges from easy to play to hard to master, and overall just is a fun time for everyone.

Hell, hte game hasn't even been out for a year yet and already we have three new characters, a new map, a new game mode and additional features like being able to make your own game mode ADDED IN FREE OF CHARGE! That's doing it right!

HONORABLE MENTIONS

The following five games are all fantastic in their own right, but didn't quite make my top ten. To save time, I'll only do a quick sentence or two for each, so please enjoy!

COUNTER-STRIKE: SOURCE - One of the first first-person shooters I played. Good combat and lots of customization both in game and in the variety of game modes.

GOLDENEYE 64 - A fun multiplayer title with an okay story mode. Best played with friends split screen...No Odd Job, please?

KILLZONE - I like to think of this as Sony's answer to Halo, but with space Nazi's instead of aliens. Regardless, it really made you feel like a soldier in an army instead of a lone wolf like most FPS games.

DESTINY -  Bungie's follow-up to Halo after leaving their flagship behind, the online, MMO hybrid was engaging, but didn't have much staying power if you didn't have a dedicated group to play with. With that and a lack of a real story, it felt like this was a half bake idea that will hopefully be more fleshed out in the sequel.

TITANFALL 2 - Improving on some of the pitfalls of the first game (Like console exclusivity), this is fun, fast paced, and in general a good game to play, especially if you have a friend or two in tow. Also, the story mode grabbed me with it's tutorial mode...so that says something.

Now, without delay, Here's Number 1!

#1. TEAM FORTRESS 2 (2007)

What started as a Quake mod eventually became the military themed hat simulator free-to-play sequel that Valve won't let you forget about. Tons of games release on Steam with some tie in to this, usually being a hat themed after whatever you're buying.

That said, once you get past the confusing as all hell economy the game has, there's a fun and engaging "Hero"-based shooter underneath. With nine classes to choose from, nearly limitless combinations for cosmetic customization and weapon loadouts. The story to the game is don similarly to that of Overwatch (Animations, comics, in game items, etc) but unlike Overwatch, many of the comics, animations and such contribute to the overall story of the game instead of just add little references to it.

The story itself is long, convoluted and silly, and perfect for the style of game it's trying to be. Overall, it's the game I've spent the most time in since I bought it back in 2007 (That's right, some of us PAID for this game), and it's easily my favorite First Person Shooter!

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Wat are some of your favorite First person shooters? Let me know in the comments below, and until next time, I'm McNutty891! Have fun!

source : http://ift.tt/2oGhx4Q