#I’m just as sucker for anything that connects human bodies with flowers

[caelanglang]

weeds or flowers… it’s all a matter of perspective…

hehehe i joined @luneariann’s dtiys!

Ely… I tried your layering method and it worked until idk how to render it further and proceeded to merge all the layers orz

my life motto rn: live laugh love mergeallyourlayersandcryrenderingit

[random-imagines-blog]

Vampire Town {Lestat de Lioncourt x Reader}

Requested by: I’m so sorry, I couldn’t find the conversation so I can’t remember. :( Wordcount: 2778 Summary: Happiness and Love can appear when least expected.

During the long span of your life, a lot of your nights had been sent in solitary. You wandered through the world, seeing the beautiful sights of history; the architecture, the music, the literature, the wars, but never had anyone to share that with. Until you came across the broken form of a blonde vampire - Lestat. “Oh, my dear, my dear,” You said, sensing the poor vampire. Broken, without a home, ready to give up on his life after his partner had left him. You sat on the stoop of a burned down mansion beside him, tore your wrist open and forced him to drink from you. He became greedy, which you encouraged. You had just fed on three mortals, willing victims who walked away just as safe as they had come, just a little anemic. You put your hand on the back of his neck and tilted his head back, letting the blood pour down his throat. You squeezed a few more drops, and he let you go, hanging his head upon your shoulder like a hungover human.

You took him to the abode you were staying in. Nothing so gothic as what Lestat may have been living in, but a home nonetheless. A three-story brownstone with a basement that concealed your coffin. You put Lestat into it before the dawn arrived, and looked down at him with a tilt of your head. He was a very handsome vampire, and would only look better with more blood flowing through his veins. He would need a trough-full, however. You would need to wake early to prepare that for him.

Your long fingers stroked his face, turning it towards the candlelight to get a better look. His skin was pale, his hair flaxen. He had been through a lot of pain - even his sleeping face showed that. It may take a dozen nights, perhaps, to get him to peak performance. But you did love a challenge, and were a sucker for a disaster of a person. Loneliness had grown old along side of you - why not try something new for once.

It took some time for the vampire, whom you learned to be named Lestat, to look alive again. Or, perhaps, a little less dead. He was far too beautiful to ever be considered a human being. Those dull creatures, though you were one of them once, bored you with their generic looks. You enticed a few of them towards the house, let Lestat feed. You found out one thing about him instantly - he was absolutely vicious when it came to feeding. Not at all as elegant as his demeanor might make it seem. And you allowed him to finish victims to nearly the point of death, then disposed of the bodies yourself.

“You seem to be feeling much better,” You said, joining him in your parlor. It was just you and he, as you knew no one else in New Orleans. You had only stopped here because it was where the first boat you came across was going. “How could you give up on your life like that?”

Another thing you learned about Lestat; he was very convinced of his own righteousness.

“It is my right to give up my life if I so wish,” He hissed, despite the blood dripping from his mouth. You did not say anything to contrary, just licked your thumb and plucked the droplet from his face. You let it rest on the tip of your tongue, savoring the flavor. “Who are you to try to bring me back?”

“You may call me y/n,” You said with a soft smile, ignoring his harsh tone. “I am noticing that you are alone, but you are well versed in talking to people. Were you a social one, Lestat?”

He was quiet for a little while after that, in some sort of reflection. He stared at nothing, and you left him to that, sleeping in a box rather than your coffin for you still allowed him to take over yours. That was the most intimate gesture that you had ever given to someone. You had shared your clothes with him, even, until you had gotten him some of his own. He looked as pretty as a painting in your white blouses, in your long dark skirts. In this world, for the first time, you had someone to share everything with.

His perpetually bad mood never bothered you. Nor did his dramatic nature. Because you knew that one day, he would either open up to you, or he would leave. You would prefer the first. But would have to quietly accept the second.

But after two years, a blink of an eye for someone like you, he opened up. He told you all about Louis, about Claudio, about Armand. About the reporter whom he had turned who was who-knows-where. About Marius, even, and how he had turned which was further back than you had expected him to go. And so in return, you told him about your loneliness, about how you had traveled from town to town and only run into a few like you. You did not know your maker. You didn’t remember him, or her. You didn’t even remember where it was that you were changed, only that you were high up in the mountains. Why you were there, you could not recall either. But you did not dwell on the mysteries of the past; only your present time.

And on Lestat, because for the present, and forseeable future, you were stuck with him. Lead a stray dog to a home and you have a pet, as you’ve heard someone say.

-

Half of the candles in the parlor remained unlit, for neither of you needed much light in order to see in the dark. Lestat had one of your hands in his as he lead you in a waltz around the room. You could not stop smiling - a facial expression that you hadn’t used too often over the years. A dance! You’ve never danced before, hence why Lestat was currently giving you a lesson. You were even wearing a gown that he had gifted to you - custom made in one of the best shops. He still had his connections in the city of New Orleans. A real vampire’s town, as you had discovered.

“You are a natural!” He praised with a smile of his own, showing off his glinting, sharp, white teeth. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“I’ve never had a partner. I haven’t met many of our kind before and dancing with a human just seems so...” You struggled to find the words. “Slow.”

“Very slow indeed,” Lestat agreed. He had picked a roses from the garden, and had them in a vase to add something living to the house. He now took one of them, and stuck it into his mouth, the thorns cutting at his lips but he did not have a care about that. You laughed at that - what a silly vampire you had ended up with.

“How is the pain, my darling?” You asked, licking your lips at the sight of that little bit of blood.

“Agonizing,” He droned, swinging you around into a spin, then returned you into his strong arms. The blouse that he wore, another thing custom made, was of a silk fabric, and felt soft upon your cheek. You suddenly remembered what it was like to cry, just from that light touch. Agonizing - you recalled what that felt like. It had been well over a century.

“The same as when you were betrayed by your love, Louis?” You questioned. Lestat cut the dance short, but he still held you.

“I don’t wish to talk about him any further,” He said, harshly. “There are more important things in my life now! I am free of him and his ... whining. I am being treated in the way that I deserve. And you - you are finally being treated as you deserve.”

Lestat wielded compliments as a weapon. He used them to distract you from asking further questions. And it worked, every time. You sighed contently as  he kissed your hand, then went up your arm towards your shoulder, then all the way back down. You could feel his cold lips through the fabric of your sleeves. It made you feel like a flower bulb in Spring, sprouting up for the first time from the damp dirt into the beautiful world above.

“You flatter me deeply, Lestat. You are better than I deserve.”

He spun you around once more, and you continued to spin in the middle of the room, arms outstretched as he watched you. Thanks to being a vampire, you did not feel dizziness like the humans did, and could outdance them all if you so wished. Lestat was a grand teacher. He then caught you, then dipped you low to the ground, so much so you could smell the dust of the floor.

“No, that is what you are to me.” His fangs were exposed as he smiled down at you, a fearsome image for anyone else, but not for you. You smiled back at him, and held him tightly as he brought you back up to your feet, humming along with the song.

“I should get cleaning this place, Lestat. It takes more than dancing to make a house a home.” You let go of him to go and grab a broom, but the blonde vampire grabbed you again. Ever since he had opened up to you, he loved to be in your presence. And it wasn’t something that you were going to complain about after being alone for so long.

“Don’t tease,” He said, holding onto your hands with his long fingers. “I’ll hire us a thousand maids, so you don’t have to get these wonderful hands dirty.” You let out a child-like laugh of glee at his amazing words. You were a sucker for them, mind the pun. “And a thousand more dresses for if you get a speck of dust on this one.”

“I don’t need a thousand dresses, Lestat. I could live in rags as long as I still had you.”

-

Five years later, you and Lestat still resided in New Orleans. It was a town of pleasure, of magic, of long nights - and plenty of swampland in order to hide bodies if you went too far with any victims. You did your best not to, but sometimes temptations swept in and you nearly drank to the point of death. But apart from that, you were living in a near-domestic bliss.

“Now, why are you doing this when you don’t get cold?” Lestat asked, walking in from the outside world with coins in his pocket and a well-fed look on his face. You were holding knitting needles in your hand, working on a shawl pattern that you had seen a woman working on last time you were out shopping. He kissed the top of your head and placed a bag on your lap before you could even answer him.

“I like to keep busy - it keeps eternity interesting,” You insisted. You set aside the knitting and started to examine the shopping bag that was on your lap. “What is this?”

“Why don’t you open it and see?” Lestat asked, with a cocky smile. You looked at him with amusement, then delicately opened up the bag. Inside was something ... something fabric. You pulled it out then stood with it in front of you. A long black gown - the color that you always wore, and which Lestat said you wore so well - and it was made of the softest velvet that you had ever felt. He looked pleased as you brought a sleeve to your face to feel the fabric even better. “Do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful, Lestat, thank you. What’s the occasion?”

“It is the anniversary of the day that you found me. The day that everything changed,” He held his hands up in the air as if he were an actor on a stage, something that you always found entertaining. You loved encouraging the odder aspects of his personality, just as he did the same for you, even when he could not understand.

“What a cheerful gown, I’ll wear it on our next night out.” You exclaimed, twirling with it. Though you would never be able to see yourself wearing it in a mirror, you thought that you would feel beautiful in it. And Lestat would tell you that you were. He was growing predictable in the most wonderful way.

“Why not today?” He questioned, approaching you and held it onto your body to emphasize how lovely you would look in it. “Wear it to bed with me. I want to feel it upon my cheek while I sleep.”

“I wouldn’t want it to get wrinkled... oh, alright,” You said, seeing his earnest expression. He helped you out of the simple dress that you were wearing, one that you had picked yourself. He was much more into the luxurious fashion of the day, favorite bright colors that made him stand out. You were not so flamboyant, and preferred to let him be the center of attention rather than yourself. It worked out well, though you did get occasional glances from other ladies, wondering how someone such as yourself had managed to gain the love of such a charmer.

You wondered the same thing yourself.

As his fingers tickled at your spine, as his hair swept against your face, you questioned how you could have grown so lucky. Were the years of isolation just a pre-payment for the years of happiness that you were having now?

You stepped into the new gown, and he pulled it up, over your thighs, your waist, your bust, your shoulders, and smoothed everything down so it draped you perfectly. He must have came home just in time, for a flash of lightning came through the windows, and the rumble of thunder. The sound of rain upon the roof and on the sidewalk. “Music to my ears,” You said, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“A most marvelous lullaby,” Lestat said, unable to stop feeling the fabric. The seamstress must have put a lot of work into this gown, for it fit you perfectly, emphasizing your waist and bust in a way you haven’t seen before without a corset, and fell to the ground without pooling at your feet. “May I take you to bed, beautiful?”

“Oh, you divine charmer,” You said, pressing your hand upon his cheek. He whisked you away, down to the basement where your coffin lay.

A while back, you had traded in your usual sarcophagus bed for something much better. It was Lestat’s idea initially, complaining about the long, cold days alone inside of a tomb. It had been an unexpected surprise when he actually did something about it, instead of expecting you to do so. When you came home from a feeding and a walk, he presented to you the double coffin. It was exactly as it sounded - two built into one, with room for both of you, and no inner wall to keep you apart.

He held your hand to help you climb inside, then followed you right in. Velvet dress on velvet interior; it felt both warm and rather sexual. With the lid closed, and the two of you in complete darkness, you felt confident, wrapping your arms around your blonde lover and pulled him close.

It took you some time to realize that this was the love that you deserved. That you were worthy of affection and love, despite all of the years that you had gone without it. And you were just lucky enough to find it with another vampire, so the only limit that you had was not time, but imagination.

As for Lestat, you had truly saved him from the misery that he had put himself through after Louis. He was ready to lock himself up for a hundred years or more, just to avoid the pain. To take the sleep of the immortal ones and awake in a brand new age. But this one still had a lot to offer, that much was clear with you. He never thought of that; only that he would remain in a state of purgatory, rather than a life of shooting stars and velvet gowns.

He was glad he stayed in this Vampire Town.

[vroomian]

okay so i had the thought: what would my non-yrz ocs be doing in the mdzs universe? and then the idea just kinda ate my brain for a while. 

Hana - youngest child of wen ruohan, the only daughter, and the heir. she’s wrh’s pride and joy, the child everyone has to measure up to. she surpassed wen xu by age ten. wen chao wasn’t even an afterthought.  she’s as stupidly competent at cultivation as she is at everything else. ambivalent to her family and sect, doesn’t even care enough to hate them. super fucking detached, because she didn’t even have kise to ground her in this life. instead, she has i  wzl. even though she doesn’t need protection, she’s still the heir, the future of the wen. wzl is hana’s only human connection among the wens. yikes. stabs wrh to death when he starts going evil overlord. feels nothing about it -- she just thought a war would be annoying. wzl says nothing, because -- what can he say? she’s the sect leader now. almost certainly ends up with wen qing, as the only one who’s not high keyed terrified of her. low key terrified, sure! hana will take what she can get. (then time passes and -- it’s hard to be terrified when you’re furious at your stupid sect leader b/c hana is just the fucking worst patient)(hana worries wen qing. it’s like she doesn’t care if she lives or dies). Name: Wen Hui (to destroy by fire, lol subtle wrh), courtesy name Ronghua (glory and splendor, also hua is the same character for flower!)(she gets a courtesy name because she’s not a Disappointment like her brothers)

Masae - he’s Jiang (possibly younger brother of Jfm??) for five minuets before he gets bored and wanders off. hailed as a divine healer. possibly a demonic cultivator? really fucking good at talismans. Ue is a cursed blade, or a spirit parasite that attached masae and got attached emotionally  masae never bothered to like. get rid of it. possibly they still eat people? maybe a venom type situation?? anyway, i know that one day masae trips over xue yang and is charmed when nine year old xue yang threatens to stab him to death in increasingly creative ways. adorable. he basically kidnaps xue yang to be his son/disciple (does xue yang end up more well adjusted or less??? i’ll leave that up to you). also very fond of meng yao when they meet, b/c of course he is.  still marries this world version of aizen perhaps??? Name: Jiang Zhen (blessing), courtesy name Baituo (to cast off (old ideas))

Oc!Kiba - Jin!!!!! Not main line, but i feel like he’d be related to jin zixun b/c kiba  can’t catch a break tbh. adjusts slightly better to being among the snakes of koi tower than the dogs of the inuzuka. he’s an orphan. a nobody. there’s like, three people who know his name among the jin.  He’s a master of anything related to going unnoticed or information gathering. by the time he’s twelve madame jin has payed him to slip impotence drugs into jin guangshan’s cup for a year straight and he never gets caught. he hears and sees pretty much everything, because he’s so low-key. has dirt on e v e r y o n e. yes, even you. blackmail is a beautiful thing. sometime in the future, he might defect? or take over the sect via puppet master strings?? honor is for suckers. very nervous and quiet as a kid, but grows into the living version of that one song line ‘if your boyfriend says he’s got beef, tell him i’m a vegitarian and i ain’t fucking scared of him’ real quick.  it takes meng yao three full years to even notice that kiba is not what he seems. probably assassinates jqs and doesn’t feel bad about it.(you know what? yrz would kill to have kiba’s super power of invisibility. the world is so unfair) Name: Jin Wu (fog/mist/vapor), courtesy name Yinmo (to vanish gradually/ to disappear/ to fade out). (doesn’t get the zi character b/c he’s not mainline jin)

Jeong - tbh, i had a tough time with this one. I think they probably started off with Baoshan Sanren, but came down the mountain, and joined the Nie after a rough few years among the common people. the Nie creed of facing evil and protecting the innocent would appeal to them the most. They joined the sect a few years before Papa Nie qi deviated. when he did deviate, they killed him so nmj wouldn’t have too. nmj is grateful, but it also takes him years to fully forgive them. in ‘penance’ jeong became nhs’s personal guard because they had previous experience body guarding (the whole king killer thing still, uh. it happened). also it takes a burden off nmj’s shoulders to know that one of the most powerful people in the sect is watching over his little brother. (there may have been a few attempts on nhs’s life before this by the wen).  nhs is thrilled by this, b/c jeong is notoriously easy going when they’re not in training mode, and all children naturally love jeong. really fucking sturdy, even for a cultivator. might actually be immortal by this point. not quite human? might’ve known cangse sanren, depending how long they were on the mountain. Name: Chénfú (ebb and flow, or rise and fall, or sinking and floating) Sanren (b/c if wwx’s mom can use the name so can jeong).(nhs and all the nie kids call them Renren lol). 

[whaticannotshowyou]

I was going to say “possessive Geralt” when what I really meant was yandere Geralt, with straight Jaskier. He loves his bard so much, there’s nobody who cares about Geralt like Jaskier. Geralt getting more and more jealous of Jaskier’s flings- why does he need those women, Geralt is right there! The only thing preventing him from murdering those who touch what is his is that Jaskier has worked so hard to clear his name... finally Geralt snaps while they’re (mercifully) away from a town, forcing Jaskier down onto the forest floor, prepping himself before roughly riding Jaskier, begging Jaskier to say he loves Geralt. When Jaskier refuses, Geralt pulls away, only to start prepping Jaskier- obviously he needs more encouragement.

Geralt later carving his name into Jaskier’s skin before jerking himself off into the cuts so there’s always a part of Geralt inside Jaskier...

So i’m skipping the older asks solely to answer this because fuck it really spoke to me. I’m... a sucker for yandere tropes where one part refuses the other to say no to them and has this warped picture of their love. Not as much the ”they will never love me so no one else will have them”, but the whole... unable to see the truth and living in the fabricated reality of the two of them being made for one another and any indication to that being false is unfathomable. And violence. Love that too.

And Geralt is new to any human caring about him, caring for him. Jaskier dedicates his life to clearing his name, helping him with contracts and performing to earn them money. Geralt falls so deeply in love he isn’t even sure how to compute it. And Jaskier obviously loves him back; He never leaves his side, always right behind Roach as he strums his lute and writes prose about the witcher, smiling his way across the campfire as it illuminates his features and becomes everything Geralt can see. So why does he keep running around for all those women?

Every so often he comes around with a new lady of interest: a countess he vows is his soulmate, another bard with flowers in her hair, a lonely seamstress in a big city and so many, many more. At first Geralt can let him stay with them, reuniting after a few months as he comes back broken-hearted or with a bounty upon his head, but eventually it tears him apart so badly to watch his bard leave that he makes up any reason to keep him. He watches as Jaskier scribbles letters that he send back to his flings(not loved ones, he would never love them as he loves Geralt) and listens as he moans about missing them. It makes the witcher frustrated beyond belief, Jaskier assuming his silence is due to his indifference while in reality his head is spinning with murderous intent. Those whores are trying to distracts Jaskier from his true love, from his soulmate that he travels with everywhere. They are confusing the bard, making him think he could ever love anyone but him, goes so far as to trick him into thinking he doesn’t even like men. If only he could realise that Geralt was there for him anytime he needed it, could realise just how perfect the two are together.

One night he decides that all the bard needs is a nudge in the right direction. It’s all in there, the adoration and infatuation, he just need to find it in him and Geralt can help. The moment he realises this all, he is on the man in an instant, forcing him down on the ground when he refuses to listen. He is only helping him, giving him the push to find out how much he loves the witcher, so rape and violence doesn’t even cross Geralt’s mind. He tugs his and his own clothes off, pressing his fingers into Jaskier’s mouth roughly. It served two purposes: slicking the digits up and making his unimportant protests quiet down. The bard will only feel bad about complaining later anyway.

Geralt relishes in the feeling of his tongue lapping at his fingers, the heat inside his mouth so perfect he lets out a moan. He bends down and kisses the tears away from Jaskier’s face, his brain choosing to ignore the fear in his eyes at what is happening. Geralt wants to keep going longer but he has to continue, can’t live one second longer in a world where Jaskier won’t even acknowledge their love. He stretches himself open with little care for the pain, deeming himself ready within less than a minute as he takes a hold of the soft cock behind him. It’s disappointing, really, but after a few strokes he gets it hard enough to sink down on, the rest fixing itself as the tight heat makes the bard whine loudly and twitch inside of him.

The feeling of Jaskier underneath him, inside of him, is almost too good. Geralt throws his head back as he starts riding him viciously, not pausing at the bard’s request or letting up for as much as a moment. When he sees the tears come back and run down the other’s chin, Geralt knows he needs more to prompt the realisation. He needs Jaskier to say it, to think about it truly so he can feel how right it all is.

“Say you love me,” Geralt moans, his hands on either side of the bard’s shoulders as he fucks himself in his cock. He puts all his power into it, rising and dropping back down as quickly as he can. Jaskier shakes his head his request, sobbing even louder as his tries to control his hips, muscles straining from him not letting them thrust upwards. We does he have to be so difficult? So actively trying to not see the truth? Geralt keeps making the same demand over and over, eventually begging the man to please say you love me!

Jaskier doesn’t. All he says are weak “no!”s and “please, Geralt, let me go!” as he writhes and cries under him. The witcher has enough after several minutes of refusal, growling as he gets off his body. Jaskier lets out a surprised sound as hope fills his eyes, his cock already softening now that the friction and stimulation is gone. He is so far gone by the manipulation of those women his body even thinks he doesn’t want Geralt, the witcher practically roaring with frustration. He grips the man’s ankles and rips them apart, seating himself between the thighs and rubbing his hard cock against the other’s. Fear once more flares up inside the bard, his eyes going wide as he scrambles to get away, kicking wildly around him and clwaing at the ground for any purchase, but Geralt doesn’t let go of him. He can handle a few bruises, anything for his love to see what he needs, so he just keeps going, one hand firmly placed on his thigh as the other leavs his lips to prod at his hole.

He sinks in easily as he applies enough force, moaning at the tight heat as he think about all those times he had wanted to sink his cock inside. He needs to hurry up, fuck, he needs to be inside of him about five years ago. Geralt forces another one in alongside the first, scissoring his fingers fast and roughly as he stretches him open. It doesn’t take long to work the bard up to four of his fingers. Despite the pained screams and panicked sobbing Jaskier’s body lets him inside so easily, opens up around him like how it’s meant to. He slips the digits out and replaces it with his cock, taking a deep breath as he finally breaches him.

It’s even better than he ever imagined it to be, the real deal so much softer and warmer than his hand ever was as he jacked of to his imagination. Jaskier doesn’t make a sound as he sheths himself all the way inside on the first thrust, his mouth open in a silent scream as he stares at where they are connected. Just above that, Geralt can see the smallest bump in his abdomen, his hand placed above it as he moves, feeling his own cock through the bard’s skin. Any intention to go slow disappears immediately at that moment, his hips snapping back and forth like in a craze as he grunts and moans. Jaskier’s voice is catching up to his body by then, screams of pain and pleas to the released ringing out between the trees. Geralt can’t hear them, his head filled with a cotton-like daze as he is finally inside the love of his life, his brain seeing his pained face as a man in the throes of pleasure. A mantra of “I love you, have always loved you” leaves Geralt’s lips as he nears his edge, spilling side of the man with a guttural moan.

When he finally comes down from the high, he is met by the sight of the sobbing man, can see hsi seed leak out of his hole and dripping down to the forest floor. He doesn’t want it to, want Jaskier to always be filled with him. Wants him to always be his, even if the man refuses to say it. There is only one more way he can remind Jaskier that he loves Geralt, that the two are meant for one another, and it has to be permanent. He had to be able to see it each time he undresses, whenever he touches himself, whenever anyone else tries to take him away from the witcher. Geralt reaches for his dagger and unsheathes it quickly, not even blinking at the way Jaskier tries to get away. He is boneless and in pain, not getting far before he is backed up against a tree, nowhere else to flee to.

So Geralt seats himself between his legs again, gripping the left thigh as he inches the blade closer. It’s almost too easy to carve his name into the flesh, the blood easing the way as he parts the skin. The adrenaline makes the pain dull, Jaskier sobbing against his shoulder as he tries to think himself away, anywhere but where he is trapped right now. When it’s done, he isn’t released. Instead he can feel the other shift a little and then hear him jerk himself off against the wounds. Geralt bites his lip as he spills himself scross the bloodied thigh, hands immediately rubbing the seed into the flesh and parted skin. He lets out a content sigh, holding the shaking bard close to him as he finally stops struggling, arms flung around his neck as he heaves in breath after laboured breath. He will always be a part of him now, always be inside of his dearest companion in life. And Jaskier will look down and see his name forever and one day it will click. One day he will realise his love for the man holding him so gently in his arms as he cries.

[buckyreaderrecs]

So Far Away: Chapter 2/?

Summary:  Bucky Barnes doing what he does best. Saving. Loving. In this particular case, the object of both is you. (Bonus: Bucky Barnes happy, healing, doing really well!) Chapter 1. 

Chapter 2:  He's saved you before. Now he's gotta find you and bring you home.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader Characters: Bucky Barnes Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists),  possible future smut (who knows, not me), she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters, hero Bucky Barnes, canon typical violence, warzone/disaster zone setting Warnings: possible triggers for anxiety, PTSD, grief

Tag list (open): @darlingtholland @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty

So Far Away Chapter 2/?

Bucky couldn't visit you in the hospital, even if he had wanted to; there was only space for the critically injured in the still-standing healthcare facilities. Others were transported elsewhere in the country. Anywhere that could take people did. That just left the people like you - hurt but able to walk, i.e. not dying.

Along with the thousands of other displaced city dwellers, you were assigned a fold out cot in a repurposed rec centre. It wasn't until you were sitting on it, with only a government issues sleeping bag and water bottle to call your own did reality set in. You'd lost your home. There was no way of contacting finding friends or family. With no connections outside of DC, you could only put your name on the 'registered: to be relocated' list and wait. Eventually you'd be seen by a caseworker, or so you were told.

The rec centre was a battle within itself. Three nights in and it was almost as bad as the moments before Bucky found you. There were crying and hopelessness, and a sense that everything important was happening elsewhere, that all your fates were out of your hands. You were going mad.

…

On the fourth morning, you were sitting on your cot with the girl who'd been sleeping next to you. While her mother went in search of anything resembling warm coffee, you braided the girl's hair. That's when you heard your name.

Behind you stood a man in a crisp black suit. The dark sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose were unnecessary in the rec centre. "Y/N?" he repeated when you turned to look at him.

As you stood, you nodded. "Yes,"

"Please follow me,"

"Wait!" you called when he moved too fast. "What's happening? Did you find my family? Do I bring my stuff with me?"

Throwing all you had - drink bottle, toothbrush and paste, protein bar - into your sleeping bag, you bundled it up and jogged after the man.

Nobody had been collected like that. Nobody had heard anything about their family from any official source either. You were very confused and a little sick with anticipation. Trotting along, you did your best to keep up without dropping anything.

Outside in the still dirty and broken street, the door to a sleek black car was held open for you.

"Where-" but you were cut off by a body emerging from the back seat.

"C'mon, man. She's only got one good hand. Could've taken her bag," Bucky said in a tone that was trying to be friendly but made the suited man shift uncomfortably and mumble an apology.

Bucky took the sleeping bag from you and carefully put it in the car. He looked at you then, smiled and nodded. "Sorry, I didn't bring any flowers. Took a little longer to find ya than I thought."

Eyes welling up with tears, you fell into his solid chest. Any embarrassment you could have felt was chased away with a wave of relief. You felt safe.

"Hi," he whispered, knowing you weren't able to reply.

Bundled in the backseat, Bucky gave you space to spread out if you wanted to. You didn't. After two minutes of watching you breathing heavily and trying not to curl into yourself, he undid his seatbelt and slide over.

"Come 'ere," he said, pulling you closer with his right arm. Nestled under him like a baby bird, it was easier to think. Thinking led to questions.

"Where are we going?" you asked. The first words you had spoken since seeing him and they weren't even gracious. Bucky didn't care though.

"New York," he answered. "Bit of a drive, but I reckon driving is safer than flying right now. We'll stay off the radar better too."

At the allusion to threat, your heart rate increased. "Are they still here?" you asked.

A state of emergency had been declared. That's all you'd really heard. You wanted to know if the creatures that had come from the sky were still waging war. It hadn't been an accident that they'd landed in the capital of arguably the most powerful nation in the world.

"I'm a sucker for a pretty face, Y/N, but I can't go around telling state secrets… But the battle's over for now; you're safe. Nothing to worry about."

It wasn't just you, though. There were people to find. Help. Save. However, even thinking about all of that, all of them, was too dangerous of a luxury at that point. You couldn't let yourself think beyond yourself. Instead, you asked, "Where are we going?" again, meaning to inquire about specifics.

Bucky was very used to people's inability to function effectively after pain, trauma. The repetition hardly registered as such; he knew what you meant. "Been staying at Stark Tower since I've been back in America,"

"Wakanda," you mumbled, mostly to yourself.

"Yeah, Wakanda. The Tower is… not exactly a home, but it's safe and it's somewhere to sleep,"

"'Kay." A slight nod was all you could muster.

You closed your eyes and let Bucky gently move his thumb over the exposed skin on your arm. Since it all began, you'd been cold. It was cold outside between the broken homes. It was cold in the rec centre, despite the mass of human movement. But in the back seat of the sleek black car, you were warm. The hoodie you'd been picturing in your mind for days was crossed off the wish list. Suddenly, you were glad to be in a t-shirt, glad to feel skin on skin.

Bucky's hand was warm. You wondered if his other one was, the one made of new vibranium and Wakandan technology. A combination of sleep deprivation and strange comfort led to you briefly opening your eyes and looking across Bucky's lap to where his left hand rested on his thigh. You reached out and took the hand, pulling it closer.

"You can feel everything?" you asked.

It was more than rude, but he forgave you. Usually people were too afraid of him to ask curious questions, so your bluntness was kind of refreshing. "Yeah. Pressure and temperature, at least," he answered, flexing his fingers in demonstration.

"Can you feel this?"

With the lightest touch, you traced patterns over the palm of Bucky's hand. He nodded, letting you trace seams and map his hand like you were charting a course to somewhere important.

"Are-" Bucky went to speak but stopped himself, starting his sentence again. "I know this is a… I don't know, a dumb question, but how are you?"

At first, Bucky tried to not involve anybody else in his search for you. Eventually, he had to explain to Steve and Sam, who kept asking where he was disappearing to. Earth had been invaded - what was more important? He had to talk to F.R.I.D.A.Y. too, so he assumed Stark would find out he'd been on the hunt for one girl. Bucky had half expected people to laugh at him. Or maybe even warn him against ruining an innocent girl's life with his own chaotic one. He was the Winter Soldier after all. Nobody had though. He'd been left with the resources he needed.

On Bucky's way out of New York, Stark had even phoned in, left a voice message. "Yeah, hey, Barnes… Look, if you find… if you find her, you can bring her here… What's one more stray?"

It made him feel like a massive idiot, like he was getting too big for his boots, but Bucky asked the agent to go into each building full of survivors and check for you. He knew going in himself would make a scene, disrupt the peace people so truly needed. The agent complied, of course. The first three times the agent had returned, he shook his head solemnly - "Sorry, Sir." Each time Bucky had reminded the agent that a) it wasn't his fault, no need to apologise, and b) he really didn't need to call Bucky 'Sir.'

Bucky knew you were alive, so you had to be somewhere. And when he watched you trot outside the rec centre, finally knowing where somewhere was, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders he didn't know was there.

Three nights and four days wasn't a long time, especially not by Bucky's standards, but he'd missed you. Even less than four days were the few moments he'd spent carrying you to safety. It wasn't like he'd gotten to know you. It wasn't like you were looking spectacularly beautiful. Honestly, Bucky had no fucking idea why he couldn't stop wondering where you had ended up and if you were okay. He had no idea what was driving that immense pressure coming from inside him to find you.

None of that mattered. You were tucked safely into him, holding his hand like it hadn't been the thing to kill countless people.

"You must have saved so many people," you said suddenly, ignoring his question not out of rudeness or deflection, but out of distraction. You were replaying it all in your head, imagining how Bucky must have swooped in and rescued other people stranded like you.

When Bucky didn't reply, you looked up at him. His expression was almost neutral, but erring on the side of confusion. His head cocked to the side a little, then his eyebrows pulled together.

"You mean, like…"

"Like me," you confirmed.

"Uh, no… not really. I'm more a… frontline combat kind of guy,"

"Thought you were a sniper?"

Bucky smirked. "Yeah… I mean I'm not… They don't send me looking for… civilians, people. The others are better at that," he tried to explain. He could see you didn't understand. "People see Captain America or… fuckin' Thor and know they're saved. Clint's good at it too. They're… people people, you know?"

You were frowning so much it almost looked childish. It was your thinking face, and Bucky didn't want to think it was entirely adorable, but it very much was.

"Then what are you?"

"I'm a… frontline combat, call me when there's a war not a press conference, kind of guy… I guess…" he said, repeated with flair. It was hard to read the tone in his voice; you couldn't tell if he was glad or sad about being that kind of guy.

"What about me?"

Quiet again while he thought, Bucky racked his memory. "You're… You're the only one…"

Bucky had saved hundreds of people during war pre-Howling Commandos and post, and he had saved the literal planet alongside The Avengers, so you were not the first person he had saved by any stretch of the imagination. But he wasn't searching for civilians the day he found you. He was stalking the enemy and killing them. You were not meant to be there. But you were. And if Bucky wasn't, you would have died. It made you the first and only individual person to be 'saved' by Bucky Barnes in the traditional help-me-Superman kind of way. That fact had only just become clear in Bucky's mind.

As Bucky figured it all out, you were watching him carefully, trying to read his mind. His blue eyes were glazed over, but finally came to refocus on you. He smiled softly, and it was very identifiably sad.

Then, unpredictably, he said, "How about we don't talk about the world ending, and we talk about how there's a hot shower waiting for you in New York." And just like that, as quickly as that strange darkness flashed across his face, it was gone. Replaced with a bright expression and casual smile, Bucky's face was reassuring again.

"Shower sounds good," you agreed.

"And food. What do you feel like?"

"Pizza," you replied immediately. Pizza, always.

Bucky laughed. "Probably need something a bit more… nourishing than pizza, darlin'. Vegetables, ya know?" He almost surprised himself with how quickly he seemed to snap into a caring role. He'd not played that part since Steve was small, sick. It felt good. Natural.

It kept going like that for a while. Bucky's constant small talk chatter keeping you on the upside of consciousness. You weren't sure if he was doing it on purpose. If he was worried a nap would ruin future sleep, he was definitely mistaken.

An hour into the trip, you looked up at him again. You'd sunk deeper into him. "Thought you said you don't talk that much,"

"Don't normally… Why? You got a problem, punk? Am I boring you?" he teased, poking your side a little. You tried to swat him away but you used your injured hand. The bandages frayed and dirty moving through the air were a sudden reminder. Warm. Safe. Comfortable. Almost happy, even. But that wasn't the case everywhere. Even if the terror seemed so far away, it was still just out there. You went quiet.

Bucky repositioned you in his arms then, dragging you across the back seat so he could sit on the far left, leaning half on the backrest and partly on the door. He held you so you could fall back on him entirely. His right arm was a secure vibranium seatbelt. His left one was free to move his hand around. He settled on running fingers through your hair. Surely it was full of knots and grit, but he didn't seem to find them. Very quickly, you fell into a shallow nap.

…

Bucky was trying to wake you gently, but you were hard to stir. He laughed as you frowned hard, slowly coming out of a fitful sleep. When you sat up and looked around, you were confused. The car was no longer in motion, and had come to park. It was difficult to see out of the tinted windows. "Where…?" you mumbled, not bothering with the rest of the question.

"We're home," Bucky replied, getting out of the car and closing the door. Inhumanly fast, he was opening the door on your side, offering a hand to help you out.

Shaky on your feet, you let Bucky's hands linger around you as you found your footing. Looking back into the car, you couldn't stop the natural urge to check you had everything - your wallet, phone, keys… But those things didn't exist anymore.

"Do you want any of that?" Bucky asked you, motioning to the sleeping bag.

Your head was shaking no before your mind had really decided, and you closed the car door with slightly too much force. Wincing at the loud thud, Bucky felt bad for you. He often felt bad for people; everything he'd been through somehow made him more empathetic.

"Stark doesn't normally just let people in the back door like this… But it means if you wander off F.R.I.D.A.Y. will probably lock you in a room."

It was easier to nod than ask who 'Friday' was and how they'd locked you in a room.

Bucky took your hand and began to walk. Stark Tower was designed to be somehow both easy to navigate but just as easy to get trapped in - just in case that's what Stark wanted. As Bucky led you down hallways and into multiple elevators, you knew you'd never be able to find your way out without him. It didn't bother you much. The world beyond the Tower was frightening and cold.

The only thing you really took notice of was the distinct lack of people around. Between the car and Bucky's suite, you only passed two others. There was an agent in the first elevator. She greeted Bucky with a monotone, "Sergeant," before hitting the button for twentieth floor, apparently knowing Bucky's path.

The second person was a little more animated, but also addressed Bucky as Sergeant. When he said it though, it felt like a term of respect and endearment. "Serge!" he called as he turned the corner into the hallway you were making your way down. "Heard you'd be here, Sergant." Bucky stopped to shake and pat the back of the man. He was dressed like the driver and elevator agents, but seemed far less robotic in his professionalism.

"Yeah, taking some quick R&R. I'll be back out soon,"

"Take your time. Don't think you owe us overtime or nothing," the agent said, smiling wide.

Bucky shrugged and stepped to continue on his way, his hand still holding yours firmly. "Be safe, yeah?"

"Always, Serge. You get some rest."

In the next elevator, Bucky ran his thumb over the back of your hand. "Figured you're too tired for introductions," he offered quietly. Smiling weakly, you nodded. "Don't worry - he'll go ask someone about you as soon as he can… Bunch of gossips."

At the door to Bucky's suite, he didn't produce a key of any sort. Simply, he said, "Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," out loud. You looked around, confused, then the door made a small clicking sound and Bucky opened it.

Inside, coming simultaneously from everywhere and nowhere a warm voice greeted you both. "Good evening Sergeant Barnes. Welcome Y/N,"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., I told ya to just call me Bucky,"

"Boss says only your friends call you that," the voice retorted. You could hear the sass in her voice.

It stumped Bucky, and he smirked and looked around, annoyed he couldn't face any one spot to speak to her. "Did Stark tell you not to be my friend?"

You thought maybe… she… had gone, but then, "Boss isn't the boss of me… Bucky."

Bucky laughed, and the sound made you spin to face him. His nose was crinkled up in amusement and he put his hands on his hips. Bucky noticed you watching. "That," he pointed up at the ceiling, "…is F.R.I.D.A.Y. She's Stark's… A.I. Kinda runs the place. If you need anything, just ask her. She can hear you anywhere,"

"But I only come when called," she added, seemingly disapproving of the creepy explanation Bucky offered.

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,"

"You're welcome. Have a good night."

You were still looking around for her when Bucky laughed again as he watched you. "Takes a bit to get used to, but you will. If me and Steve can, you can."

Nodding in response, you glanced around the space. Already it was overwhelming. There were floor to ceiling windows, and you could see all of New York from them, even from the other side of the room. You couldn't regulate your emotions. It was like anything you'd felt in your life had a sudden renaissance, all of them fighting to have their fifteen seconds of control of your mind and body.

Slowly, Bucky approached. It wasn't until he was right in front of you that you even noticed him.

"What do you need?" he asked, reading your expression and each movement of your body very carefully. "Don't answer that… You probably don't know what you need, yeah? How 'bout… Shower first."

He was patient. He could probably stand in the one spot for hours without moving if he needed to - if you wanted him to. But you didn't, of course. The problem was that you didn't really know what you wanted. Logically, you knew you should eat. Sleep. Clean. Facing choice, free will, for the first time in days felt alien.

"I…" you tried, but your voice was shaking and didn't sound familiar. "I… I don't know… Can… Can you just…"

What exactly were you asking for?

"Look after you?" Bucky tried.

Aim. Fire. Bullseye.

You nodded, bursting into tears. Bucky closed the gap between you, wrapping you up in his arms like he'd done before. Your own arms were folded, pressed tightly between your chest and his.

"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'," Bucky whispered, not trying to hush you. "We're gonna get you in the shower, then put you in bed. Go from there…" He kissed the top of your head. "I got you, Y/N."

Chapter 3. 

[worddevdealswithml]

Side Effects Include: Empathy

Enjoy a solid chunk of fic inspired by this post by the mighty and powerful @yunyin​.  I’m always a sucker for getting fun and colorful descriptions of what it’s like inside someone’s head, and the image of Adrien finding out by Marinette running into him was the piece I needed to actually write some of this.

--

He realizes that her mind had simply been processing events, as she hits him like a train, harder even than her body had.

Chapter 1

--

Adrien didn’t know how he’d gotten there.  He didn’t know when he could possibly have gotten here, but…

He could see a planet, a ball of stone and gas, crumbling, swirling like so much dust away, into a blindingly bright flare of light.

The sight should have bothered him, or scared him, but more than that, Adrien felt… Quietly pleased, watching it disintegrate.

He became suddenly aware of… Something; a presence had seemingly noticed him just as he had noticed it.

It didn’t have a body, or a face, or, anything, really, but he knew it was there.

From nothing, it let out a familiar, annoyed groan.

“Oh, come on, not this one again.”

“What?”

“Alright, get up,” said Plagg, not responding to the question.

 Adrien sat upright in bed, breathing hard, eyes wide.  Plagg floated lightly up from where he’d been asleep on his chest.

Adrien glanced at the clock, and saw… It was a few minutes before he was supposed to get up, but that wasn’t really what was bothering him because…

“Plagg?”

“Mm?”

“What… Did you…?  What just happened?”

Plagg groaned, the sound almost identical to the one Adrien had heard in his dream.  It was annoyed, more than anything.

“You… Just ended up in my dream.  Or… Well, it’s more of a memory, but the point is, you were there.”

“I… I know.  That’s the problem!”

“Oh… You’ve got no idea what the problem is.”

“Plagg?”

“See, it’s pretty common; if you use a miraculous for long enough, weird things happen.  Had a guy, kept destroying things randomly when he touched them, wasn’t even transformed.”

His eyes went wide again.  “Is that… Going to happen to me?”

Plagg shrugged.  “No idea.  What you’ve got, is…” he put a tiny hand up to his face, and sighed… “Empathy.”

Adrien blinked.  “Like… What?”

“You feel emotions. Other people’s.  At least, probably.  Usually, that ends up letting you share dreams, so if you’re sharing dreams… You’ve probably got empathy.”

“So…  Wait, what?  Why?”

“Because—” Plagg cut himself off, shaking his head.  “Like this.”

He floated forward, and pressed a hand to Adrien’s forehead.

For a second, Adrien didn’t notice anything, but then…

It was like…  Like…

“Rumbling?”

“Probably.”

“Like… Purring, almost.”

“Yeah, that’d be me.”

“That’s what your… emotions, feel like?”

“They make sense if you’re as old as I am.  Not so much if you’re young by human standards.”

“I see.”

There was a second of silence, and then…

“You said… ‘Not this again,’ right?”

“Yup.”

“Is… Is something bad about this?”

“Oh no, I’m sure you’ll love it, but I’ll have to listen to you talk about how everyone you know feels around you for the rest of your life, or… Which’ll be bad enough if you don’t get the part where you can feel their emotions without touching them.”

“Ah…”  Adrien went silent.  “Well… You’re old, right?  The rest of my life should only feel like a couple seconds, to you!”

Plagg gave him a withering look.

The alarm rang.

…

By the time he’d showered, gotten dressed, given Plagg his cheese, eaten, and, well, ridden to school… Adrien was worried.

It wasn’t like he was a naturally anxious person.  He was pretty sure that he wasn’t about to ruin his life by taking a peek at how people thought when they were around him, and when he’d asked Plagg on the ride over, he’d been assured that he couldn’t actually affect someone’s feelings towards him like this.  The most he’d be able to do was get inside information on what his words did, which was…Better?  It wasn’t like he was even planning to do that much.

So, why did he feel like he should be wearing something long-sleeved?

It didn’t matter.  He wasn’t wearing something long sleeved, was the simple fact of it, and if he turned around now, Nathalie would probably want an explanation, and that… Wouldn’t be good.

He pushed through the doors, and started for the lockers.

It was early, and, unsurprisingly, nothing happened in the dozen or so steps between the main entrance and the lockers.

As he stepped into the locker room, he saw Nino, sliding his locker closed.

For a second, Adrien was surprised to see him here so early, since on the rare occasions Adrien was able to keep up with his alarm, Nino wasn’t here when he arrived.  And then he realized… This was his one-year anniversary with Alya, which presumably meant he had to one up her 6-month gift.

Nino seemed almost scared at the sight of him, but he brightened almost immediately.

“Dude!  Thought you were Alya.”

“Let me guess…” He nodded at the locker.  “Flowers?”

He grinned.  “For a start.  That’s just to get her warmed up.  The real gift is after school.”

“And what is the real gift?”

Nino stepped forward, placing his hands onto Adrien’s shoulders.

“Dude.  You know she’s gonna ask you about it.  Can’t take that risk.”

The sensation was muffled by the shirt, but Adrien felt…

//

Softly, there’s the sensation of warmth, like standing in the shade of a tree on a summer day.  He almost isn’t sure he feels it, because it doesn’t feel much different from talking to Nino normally.

He can feel, skimming across the surface, the sensation of Nino’s mind running.  He’s pleased, excited, and maybe a bit nervous.  There’s even an unexpected amount of… Deviousness?  Probably that ‘surprise’ he’s getting ready.

//

Adrien sighed, smiling, the nerves he had earlier largely dispelled by Nino’s easy presence.

“Alright, alright. Keep your secrets.”

Nino grinned.  “I will.  If she asks, you have no idea what I’m doing.”

He laughed, as Nino pulled his hand away.

“I mean.  I don’t know.”

“Exactly.  If she pushes… Maybe give away the flowers?”

“You do realize she’s probably got something planned for you, right?”

Nino snorted.  “I’m counting on it.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving Adrien alone.

…

Adrien didn’t have much to do at his locker, so it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before he was walking to the door, only to come face to face with Alya.

If he’d thought Nino had looked suspicious, Alya looked like she was on the trail of a criminal, and her clothes seemed… A bit more formal than usual?  She looked as if someone had told her to dress up, but to be casual about it.

She glanced past him.

“Have you seen Nino?” she said.

“Why?”

She looked at him.  “It’s our anniversary, and he’s definitely got something planned.”  She looked back up at him.  “Actually…  I don’t suppose he’s told you anything, has he?”

He laughed.  “Nothing.”

Alya squinted at him, visibly suspicious.

He wasn’t quite able to restrain the urge to pull away, slightly.

She cocked her head.

“You know something. He’s got something planned, and you know about it.”

“No!  I don’t know anything.”

“What is it?”

“I- Wh- I have no idea!”

“Tell me, Adrien.”

“I- Uh- I- Alya, are you- What are you-“

“Tell me.”

“Wh- I don’t know!”

She stared him down a second longer, and…

She pulled back, expression suddenly much less imposing, and gave him a confused, nearly amused look.

“Interesting.  So whatever it is, you’re not part of it.”

She stepped neatly past him.

He turned, staring after her, bewildered.  Her fingers twitched like a pickpocket contemplating a theft.  She’d interviewed Chat Noir several times, but that was-

“Wait, Alya,” he said, staggering after her, hand catching her shoulder as she walked away. “Since when do you interrogate people like that?”

//

Alya’s mind is practically buzzing.  Excitement, glee, and nerves burn throughout.  It feels like an engine running at full speed.

She’s… Apparently having the time her life, right now.

//

She turned, and as his hand fell away, she smiled, in a way that seemed almost surprised.

“Since Nino has, and don’t tell him I said this, managed to keep me in the dark about something, and I’m not sure whether to be angry at myself or impressed with him.”

As if on cue… Possibly literally on cue, considering he shouldn’t have needed to come back in here, Nino pushed through the door.

“Oh, hey dudes.”

“Nino!  What are you doing?” said Alya.

Nino laughed.  “Going to my locker?”

Alya stepped back.

“So…  Do you remember what today is?”

“Tell me.”  Nino put down his backpack, and went to his locker.

Alya glanced at Adrien, raising her eyebrows.

“Well… I find it hard to imagine you’ve forgotten, but it’s been a full year since we got locked in a cage together.”

“No kidding?” said Nino, reaching into his locker.

“No kidding,” said Alya. “And from what I’ve gathered, you know that, and-

“Hold these, would you?” said Nino, almost absently handing her a bouquet of flowers.

Alya blinked, taking hold of them.

“Wh—” She didn’t seem entirely certain what had happened.

Nino pulled back from the door, and looked at her.  “Call that payback for our first kiss!”

Adrien, for his part had heard the part of the story where Nino had been so shocked when she’d kissed him he hadn’t been able to speak for a minute.  He and Nino had laughed about it after the fact, but apparently, he’d been a bit embarrassed at the time.

Alya looked half offended, for a second, and then…  She laughed “And they’re Tiger Lilies.”

“Had to ask Marinette about that one, but she said you…” he glanced for an instant at Adrien, “had sort of a connection to them?”

Alya snorted.  “Yeah.  I do. And, even if I didn’t, they really are lovely.”

She looked down at the flowers, then up at Nino, and idly tapped at her lips.  “I’m wondering if I should kiss you now, or see if I can bribe you later to let something slip.”

Nino grinned.  “Either way, I won’t tell you.”

“Well, in that case…” she said, grinning back.

“Aand, I think I should be going,” said Adrien, laughing, as their faces met.

He turned, not registering the sound of the door opening, not registering the unexpected slam of-

// Panic, worry //

As he staggered back, he looked down, and came face to face with Marinette.  They seemed frozen in space…

And then she slipped, and he reached out, hands slipping under her arms, even as she grabbed onto his sleeves, and he was just about to be surprised that her emotions had deserted her when-

//

He realizes that her mind had simply been processing events, as she hits him like a train, harder even than her body had.

The first thing to make contact is a blast-furnace of warmth and care, as if he’d opened a hot oven incautiously.  And… Something else, which he couldn’t quite make himself put a name to.  He feels his face shift, a shade of red the twin of hers.  It’s… It’s a bit like Nino’s, but more urgent, in a way that feels like it’s reaching directly into his stomach, and twisting.

As if that alone isn’t enough to grapple with, he feels the fear rise behind it.  Panic. Irrational, gripping panic.  Her hands scrabble at his sleeves, as she tries to pull herself upright.

//

Marinette regained her feet, but seemingly hadn’t quite gained the presence of mind to pull away.

He needed to let go. She was on her feet, and it wasn’t like they were together or anything, and it was kind of weird for two friends to be randomly holding onto each other like this, and-

// Some kind of pleasure bubbles up through the embarrassment, and some semblance of… hope? //

He blinked, clearing his throat.

“Uh… Marinette, hi, um, are you okay?”

She giggled, and he would have known she was nervous even if he hadn’t had a direct link to her mind.

“Fine!  I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m…”  //panic// “Fine.”

She finally managed to get the presence of mind to pull away, and…

She pulled away hard enough that his fingers, which had seemed for an instant frozen stiff, as if by rigor mortis, didn’t even have a chance to hold her in place.

It seemed even Marinette was surprised by how hard she’d pulled away, barely keeping her feet.

He laughed, a little nervous himself.  “Sorry, guess I didn’t see you coming.”

“Ah- No, that’s… That’s my fault I was in a hurry and I didn’t look where I was knowing- Ah, going!  I… You know…”

He slid out of the door.

“If you- if you’re heading in, fair warning, there might be a bit more kissing than you’re comfortable with in there.”

“Oh, I don’t mind kissing,” she said, and her eyes widened, “I mean!  I don’t mind kissing if it’s with the right person,” she seemed to have lost control of her train of thought, “I mean!  Not that I think there’s anyone in there I’d want to kiss, because the only person I want to kiss is… Probably, not, in there?”

Normally, he’d have brushed that off, but after what he’d just felt…

He forced a smile.  “Right.  Well, it’s Alya and Nino, and it’s their anniversary, so we’ll probably have to be used to them being a bit more… y’know… than usual.”

“Ah!  Right!” looking at the door both as if to avoid looking at him, and… As if weighing the option.

Adrien took the opportunity to walk rapidly away, thanking whoever was responsible for the fact that his blush had at least waited this long to hit him in earnest.

This was… He was…

He hadn’t expected this, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

What was he supposed to do about it?

[proxylynn]

UNDERFELL: FILE NAME NOT EDGY ENOUGH part #2

Chapter 2: Flowey

WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. AGAIN, THIS IS A BETA AND THIS OPENING CHAPTER IS LIABLE TO CHANGE TO BETTER FIT THE STORY AND MY NEWEST WRITING ABILITIES. SO TAKE THIS DEMO WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^

Darkness...everything is so dark, I can't see anything, I can't hear anything, I can't feel anything...there is nothing, nothing but darkness...dark, darker, yet darker...the darkness keeps growing, the shadows cutting deeper...wow...dying is very bleak...why does everyone think something incredible is supposed to happen...all there is, is the empty nothingness of the void and the deafening silence of nonexistence...

"🕈✌😐 🕆🏱 🕆💣✌ ✏" (WAKE UP HUMAN!)

"*gasp*!"

My eyes shoot open painfully, I feel as if I had just come back to life. My lungs feel empty and crave oxygen greedily, and my entire body aches...especially my left arm. Great. Just fucking great. Fuck you fate! Fuck you death! You could've at least do me a solid and finish the job or not damage me at all!

I lay where I am for awhile, letting my body adjust to what had happened and waiting for the pain to numb. I seem to have landed awkwardly. My lower body feels like its aimed to the ground while my top-half is clearly looking up at the hole I just fell into. Something's broken, I just know it.

"Well, this sucks. *groan* Fuck you, universe! Once again, you fail to get rid of me! *long sigh* Even when I give you control, you won't let me die. *pause* I wonder...Do they even notice I'm gone? Better question...Will they care? God! Was it too fucking hard just to be told 'I love you' before heading out that damn door?! Would it really be so bad to feel like I matter all?! *sadness* Is it really so wrong to know someone cares?"

I can feel the urge to cry coming but bite my tongue. I don't have time to pity myself.

"Okay...What's the damage?"

After about 20 minutes of laying like a lump, I force my body to move and straighten while sitting up. My joints pop multiple times and I see why my arm is now so messed up. It would appear my earlier prediction was true, I landed on a fallen crystal shard that had the luck to be jabbed into my shoulder.

"Whelp...This is gonna sting like the dickens."

I take a cautious grasp of the crystal that's protruding in the front and take a few deep breathes before holding it. That's when I grit my teeth and yank it out hard as the crystal is tossed across the room.

"*wincing* Yep...That hurts...Oooh, that hurts...How bad is...Huh...Not bleeding as bad as it feels...I call that a win."

I try to put some weight on it and it folds like an origami swan. I try moving my fingers but they don't respond. Damn it. The whole thing is dislocated. I know I'm a sucker for pain, but even I need help fixing this thing. Looking back up, I can see the mouth of the hole I fell from. That has to be a good 50-60 feet from the top to the bottom, definitely no way to climb out even if I had both arms. Nope. I'm stuck down here. My eyes wander around my landing place, I've landed on a small bed of yellow flowers that are now stained red with my blood, there are about 4 large marble pillars that I can barely see, stalactites coat the walls, and of course the dead vines that somehow creep their way out of this pit. Suddenly something shiny gets my attention.

"Heh...Glad to see someone made it here in one piece."

My iPod managed to bounce its way over to what looks like the only exit I can see in this place.

"Well, as long as I'm stuck here..."

I move to get up and immediately drop again.

"God damn it..."

My right leg doesn't want to work with me either. At least it has feeling and I can move it, so I know it still functions.

"Sprain? Broken bone? Geez...I can't get a break. *snicker* Or can I?"

Lame jokes at my own expense aside, I try once more to stand and this time not put as much weight on it. This thankfully works and I'm able to limp my over to my lonesome device. I'll check if it works later. Right now, my goals are to first find someone or something that I can use to heal. Damn myself for not going to medical school when I had the chance. I slowly begin to follow the only path that is given to me, oddly enough there's a door-less archway. Yeah, like this isn't foreboding at all.

Entering this room, I find it's completely empty except for a single flower. It's a golden flower, with a white androecium, six yellow petals, and a green stem. You know, a typical looking flower if ever there was one. It is odd how flowers of any kind are able to grow down here without sunlight. They should be as dead as those vines.

"H-Howdy!"

A sudden voice freaks the crap out of me, but what really is freaking me out is the fact that the flower has a face and is now nervously smiling at me.

"I...I'm FLOWEY. FLOWEY the FLOWER!"

A talking flower? A real talking flower complete with a name? My mind makes no sense of this.

"Uh...S'up?"

It seems surprised to see me, looking me over like I'm some sort of new type of animal. Has he never seen a human before? Of course not, dummy, it lives in a freaking cave! Wake up, idiot. I know I fell down and hit a lot of shit, but I can't be so stupid. I've had worse head trauma than this. Still...Am I really that weird looking?

At least I think I'm normal enough. I'm 5'8'' tall, got a decent body type, long brown hair I let loose that reaches my ass but is currently curtaining my face, pale white skin, got 2 surgical stainless steel captive earrings in each earlobe, dressed in a red blood stained long sleeved t-shirt and now ripped black dungarees with that have chains hooked on each belt-loop, some black combat boots...Okay, yeah, I take it back. I'm fucking freaky looking.

"S-Say...You're n-new to the UNDERGROUND, aren'tcha?"

Why do I have the sudden urge to be a huge dick?

"Heh...Yeah. You could say I just dropped in."

It gulps, I believe out of intimidation.

"G-Golly, y-you must be so c-confused."

"Look, flower-boy, there's no need to sound so scared. I ain't gonna mess with you."

It tilts its head.

"Huh? You...You're not?"

My right leg fidgets before I buckle to it again. This seems to worry the flower.

"W-Whoa! Are you okay?"

"*grunt* The fall messed me up...My leg isn't wanting to move so well. It's not as bad as the arm though."

"Your arm...?"

Now it seems to take notice of the limb appendage dangling at my side.

"You're bleeding!"

"Dislocated...Can't move it. Not so bad, really. I'm right-handed."

"H-How are you able to make jokes at when you're so hurt?"

"Eh...It distracts from the pain. *wince* Doesn't stop the pain though. Y-You wouldn't happen to know if there's somewhere I can get patched up? Maybe someone else down here that's a doctor or something? Hell, I'll take a creepy old witch covered in warts and wreaking of cat piss if they'll fix me."

It looks around, like an animal knowing a predator is nearby.

"I...I know we just met, but...You seem...Well...Honestly, you seem like a weirdo. B-B-But a decent weirdo that hasn't tried to kill me!"

"Why would I...? Whatever. You were saying?"

"R-Right...Do you think you can trust me?"

"Flowey, was it? I don't know how much you know about humans, but if this wound isn't sealed, I will die. So I'd like to skip the 'do you trust me' cliché and get to the part where you help me so I can help you."

Its eyes widen.

"W-Why do you think I..."

"You're acting as nervous as a cat in a dog pound. Flowers aren't really high on the big bad scale. I can put two and two together enough to know you're in a bind just talking to me this long. So again, I say let's skip to the part where you help me so I can help you...Please?"

It gives me a sad but understanding look before nodding a tad more confidently.

"Alright. Put that arm on the ground in front of me."

I crawl over to Flowey and do as it asked. I lurch down and plop this hunk of dead weight onto the dirt. Flowey looks at it and then me before looking at my hand. I start to question so much, like my sanity, at this point till these little vines begin creeping out of the soil and make their way up my arm. I bet this would feel strange if I had the nerve connection. With the vines scaling up my arm, Flowey's body follows suit and soon enough its reached my shoulder.

"Now this might sting a little."

"Probably not as bad as yanking the rock out of their in the first place."

Still, I brace myself for whatever is to come. It feels like time stops till my eyes widen in intense pain.

"*roar*!"

A vine quickly wraps around my mouth to muffle my loud sounds of pain as Flowey shifts his roots to enter the wound, filling it. Other vines snake their way downward, wrapping around my torso and curling around my bad leg. Please say this is hell! Please say I'm in hell and this is my punishment for trying to die! Because if I really am alive this is fucked up!

"Shhhhh! You really don't want the guardian to find you here. If we're lucky, she'll think that roar was from another monster."

Monster? Guardian? Again, please tell me this is hell!

"I know it hurts. Just bear with me a little longer. Ow! No biting!"

"*muffled whimpering*"

"Almost...and..."

*clack*

"*muffled roaring*"

"There. I managed to pull the bone back into place. You should be able to move it again...I hope. I'm not a doctor after all."

"*muffled whimpering*"

"Oh! And I'm helping to brace your leg too. Just try not to do anything reckless. Okay? I'm just acting as a temporary band-aid. Now, I'm going to remove the gag. Can you promise to not scream or...roar?"

I nod slowly. Cautiously, the vines leave my mouth and I make little whimper sounds.

"That bad?"

"My life flashed before my eyes..."

"And?"

"...It was disappointing."

Flowey pouts but gasps when I move my left arm to move the hair out of my face so I can wipe the tears from my heavily bagged hazel eyes.

"Whoa...You have a face."

I roll my eyes.

"What? You thought there was nothing here?"

"Well, no. I just thought...well...You looked so creepy with your hair like that."

"I can see that. So...You're rooted around the bones?"

"Just till you can heal."

"Neat."

"So...Do all humans roar?"

"Nope. I'm just weird like that."

"Why?"

"I don't know how to scream."

"...Really?"

"Yep. I roar instead. It's just how I am."

"I'm not sure if that's cool or not."

"Whatever floats your boat. But, uh...As a flower, don't you need dirt?"

"Uh...Maybe?"

"...What do you mean maybe? Are you really fine being in my blood?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not really a normal flower."

"So there aren't other talking flowers down here?"

"Nope. ...Just me."

Seems I've touched a sore spot. Best move on to something else. I push myself up and stretch to a stand. It feels so bizarre, yet, not in a bad way.

"You mentioned a 'guardian'...Mind telling me more?"

"Oh! Her name is Toriel. She patrols the Ruins looking for fallen humans to take their souls."

That gets to me.

"So the legends are true? The monsters are really down here?"

"You know about that?"

"Only what is in old folklore books. Humanity has moved on since the old days. Gone is the way of magic. Modern man is the master of technology now. It's actually really sad to find out this is real...No one believes the old stories were true. Monster kind is nothing more than myth up there now."

Flowey looks hurt and I don't like it. I pat his petal head.

"Don't be sad."

"Huh?"

"The world may forget you down here, but I won't. So buck up my friend."

Its eyes widen.

"F-Friend?"

I rub the back of my head bashfully.

"Look at me. What kind of friend doesn't even tell the other their name. Man, I suck at this. Hi Flowey, I'm Lynsie. But you can call me Lynn for short. Nice to meet you."

It smiles.

"It's nice to meet you too."

[You've made your very first friend. It fills you with an oddly warm fuzzy feeling...and DETERMINATION.]

Uh...What?

"You okay?"

"Did you just hear something?"

"No? Did you?"

I shake it off.

"Probably just my imagination."

"Okay...We should get going anyway. The longer we stay in one place, the worse our odds of safety are."

"Alright. *pose* Come with me, Flowey! We shall now travel down the only road given to us!"

Flowey looks at me funny.

"Oh my god, I'm attached to a huge dork."

"You'll get used to it."

"I highly doubt that."

And off we go. Adventure and probably more bullshit await us. We walk through another archway and into a dreary looking space. The walls are layered in red brick, dry red leaves sit at the base of the duel stairway while some leaves make a square in the center of the room. Up the stairs and through another archway we enter a room that actually has a door in it, but it also has six raised stones on the floor and a yellow switch by the door...what's this about?

"Hey, you need to press the buttons in the right order and then flip the switch to get through the door. The RUINS are full of puzzles. Ancient fusions between diversions and door keys. If you want to make it out of here you'll need to do these things."

"Seems a bit dumb."

"I know this one. Just walk where I point."

Taking directions from a flower...never saw this coming in my life. I move where Flowey guides me to and then flip the switch, the door opens.

"Seems easy enough."

"They'll get trickier the farther we go."

"Of course they will."

I go to walk into the next room but pause for a moment, a plaque by the door has my attention.

[Only the fearless may proceed. Brave ones, foolish ones. Both walk not the middle road.]

What is doing that?!

Feeling weird I enter the next room and Flowey proceeds to teach me even more about puzzles.

"So...What can you tell me about the 'underground'?"

"Yeah, you really don't know what to do, do you? Someone ought to teach you how things work around here! I guess little old me will have to do."

"That's why I asked."

"Alright. Just don't freak out about this."

A strange energy is felt and a red heart appears on my chest. This makes me feel awkward and vulnerable. I don't like it.

"See that heart? That is your SOUL, the very culmination of your being!"

"Interesting..."

I do feel a sense of power, not sure what it means, but I like it.

"Your SOUL starts out weak, but can grow strong if you gain a lot of LV."

"LV? Like as in Level?"

He snickers and shakes his head.

"No, silly. LV doesn't mean level. Well, not quite really. What do you think this is? A video game or something?"

"It's just the first thing to pop up in my head. I play a ton of video games and LV usually stands for Level."

"No harm done, Human. Anyway...What LV stands for is Level of Violence."

"Ah, an acronym. Very clever."

"LV is a way of measuring someone's capacity to hurt. The more you kill, the easier it becomes to distance yourself. The more you distance yourself, the less you will hurt. The more easily you can bring yourself to hurt others. To increase your LV, you need to gain EXP."

"I'm wrong for thinking that's Experience Points, aren't I?"

"You really are a big nerd."

I shrug.

"EXP is also an acronym. It stands for Execution Points. A way of quantifying the pain you have inflicted on others. When you kill someone, your EXP increases. When you have enough EXP, your LV increases."

"I don't mean to interrupt, but...Why would I need to be killing down here?"

"Since the War, monsters have taken to a darker side of thinking. In this world, it's kill or BE killed. Humans that fall down here are to be killed and have their souls taken to King Asgore so that the barrier can finally be broken."

I give this some thought.

"Flowey...How many souls are needed to break the barrier?"

"Seven."

"And...How many does the King have?"

"Flowey?"

"...Six."

A sudden sense of weight hits my soul.

"So...I'd be the last one needed. The final soul to free all monsters."

"Yeah."

[You asked the universe if it would hurt to be someone that mattered...It answered back with a YES.]

Seriously, what the fuck is that?!

"I know that's a lot to drop on you, but you need to know this stuff. Monsters will be trying to kill you left and right to get a hold of that soul. You need to be ready to take a life to save your own."

I stop and cup my soul in my right hand. So much fuss over this thing? So much riding on it. So fate, you've decided to finally give me an answer to all the times I've asked why you made me ignored. What a sick sense of humor you have. At least death has better jokes.

"*giggles*"

"Um...Why are you laughing?"

"*chuckles* Because life is funny sometimes."

Pressing my soul inward to return to my body, I can't help but smile at such universal irony. Okay world, you kept me alive this long. Guess this was what you were waiting for my sorry ass to do all these years.

"Flowey..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm not going to kill anyone."

It looks at me in disbelief as I start walking again.

"Wha...What do you mean you're not going to kill anyone?! There's no other option!"

"You'd be surprised by the weird and random choices one can make when given a chance."

"I'm telling you, there is NO choice! If you don't fight, you WILL die!"

"Oh, I never said I wasn't going to fight."

Now it's confused.

"I...I don't understand?"

"I mean it when I say I'm not killing anyone. Hell, I can't even get myself to die. I doubt the reaper wants what I send its way either."

It looks concerned.

"Human..."

"So if death doesn't want me, then I sure as hell ain't wasting this second chance. I will not kill. But I will defend myself."

"...You're going to get us both killed."

"No...Just myself. I'm the one with the soul needed to free everyone. The moment shit starts going south, I won't hold it against you if you leave me."

Flowey just stares at me. What thoughts run through your head little flower-boy?

"*scoff* Like I can really leave you, idiot. You're a sitting duck without me."

I see this as Flowey's tough guy act and simply smile.

"Glad to know I have a partner that's got my back...among other body parts."

It flinches.

"Was that suppose to be a joke?"

"Why are you flustered, flower-boy? Did that get under your skin?"

"Stop it."

"Why? Do you have a bone to pick with me?"

"Stop it! You're not funny."

"Ow. And here I thought you were rooting for me."

"*growl* I said...SHUT UP!"

I merely laugh as we enter the room after this. But this is when things get weird. There's a training dummy in it.

"Well, Ms. NoKill, time to show me what you got. As a human living in the UNDERGROUND, monsters WILL attack you. Even if you don't do anything to justify the attack. Just being human is warrant enough. When you encounter a monster, you will enter a FIGHT. Let me see how you handle the Dummy."

I go up to the dummy and check it out. The Dummy's appearance is that of most dummies. Structured with a head, body, stand and no arms. It looks to be made a cloth-like material, probably stuffed with cotton, has one button eye and has visible stitches. It won't take much effort to break it. But...

"Yo, what's up?"

Flowey's eye twitches.

"What are you doing?"

"Can't you see? I'm talking to it."

"Why?! It's a freaking dummy!"

"No need to be so rude. Please forgive my friend here, I think it woke up on the wrong side of the flowerbed."

"Argh! Stop making those stupid jokes."

"I will when they stop being funny."

"Look, just hit the dummy. At least once. It's not like it can harm you if you do and desire revenge."

"You don't know that."

"*annoyed* Fine! Do whatever you want!"

Flowey's so cute when ticked off. But this doesn't feel so weird to me. Having no one to talk to makes you talk to yourself and objects a lot more than others would care to know. A familiar energy tugs at me and my SOUL reappears...it's green now. Very strange.

"You look like a nice guy. Just because you're a dummy, doesn't mean you deserve to be hit. In fact..."

Out of all the random things I tend to do, this one goes up on my list. I hug the dummy. I'm not expecting much to happen from this, other than Flowey to go nuts, so imagine my shock when a black box pops up beside me and the dummy.

[You hug the DUMMY.]

[It seem really uncomfortable about this and tires of your shenanigans.]

I suddenly feel movement and let the dummy go. Upon doing so, the dummy floats away into another room. Leaving me and Flowey to share the same dumbfounded look.

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 0 gold.]

The FIGHT seemingly over, everything reverts to normal. My soul returns to me and I am very confused.

"Uh...What?!"

"What just happened here? What was that box? Can I really earn money this way? Did I really just hug a living dummy? So many questions!"

Flowey seems a bit startled by my sudden flip into rapid questions, but its leaf slapping my cheek shuts me up quick.

"Snap out of it! I'll explain everything. The box is a magic used by none speaking monsters so that they can communicate with others. It can even translate body movements and hand signals."

"That...makes some sense, I guess. So wait, the dummy was a monster?"

"Probably a ghost possessing the dummy. If a ghost finds a suitable body and their soul connects right, they can become corporeal like a living being."

"Oh my god, this place is fucking nuts!"

"What's nuts is YOU. I said FIGHT and you hugged it. If that were a real fight you'd so be dead."

"But it wasn't a real fight. So there was no need to attack."

"*grumbles* As for gold, most monsters will pay you depending on how you handle the FIGHT. And every FIGHT gives you experience. Whether it's good or bad, that is up to you. But judging by how you handle things, that's going to be experience in stupidity."

"Hey, it's like the sign said...Only the fearless may proceed. Brave ones, foolish ones. Both walk not the middle road. I choose to take the road less traveled."

"You really are an idiot."

"You know you love me."

"*scoff* There is another puzzle in this next room...I wonder if you can solve it?"

"Is that a challenge?"

I go into the next room and look around for the puzzle or its possible solution. The only thing I can see is this odd pattern on the floor. Definitely not a walkway. Could mean something else. The puzzle maybe?

"Ribbit! Ribbit!"

"Huh?"

"Look out!"

[Froggit attacks you!]

I feel something leap at my back and knock me down as my soul emerges. Then hops off to be in front of me.

[HP ████████ 8/20]

"Oh come on...Well, I can't really bitch about that. I did get fucked up in a fall and all."

"Focus, human. The Froggit already had its turn to attack. Now it's your move."

"Turn-based fighting and I have HP? Are you sure I'm not in a video game?"

"I don't even know anymore. Just do something."

I take a moment to at least get a look at my 'opponent'. Froggit's overall appearance is that of a large frog. I say large as this thing stands almost to my knees in terms of size. Only its two front feet are visible from this forward facing view, it's eyes are red, for some reason it has fangs, and has three black marks on its chest. Between its two front feet is what appears to be some small creature with red eyes that excessively blink and has a frowning mouth. I have no clue what strange ass frog this is, but if I were to make a guess, I'd think this is it's baby, attached mate, or just maybe attached sibling. I don't know. That's all I can think of at least. Because I really don't want to think of it as a mutant with two heads. I've seen enough weird mutant frogs online. Just when I'm about to think of something, more magic boxes appear before me.

[FIGHT]

[ACT]

[ITEM]

[MERCY]

"Hmmm...Let's try this one."

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[THREATEN]

[COMPLIMENT]

"I'll check."

[Froggit – HP: 20 ATK: 4 DEF: 5 - Life is difficult for this enemy.]

Well, that sucks. Maybe I can try something to make this easier.

[COMPLIMENT selected.]

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen a more awesome looking monster in my life."

I hold a thumb up to really sell it.

[You are intimidated by Froggit's raw strength. Only kidding.]

"*whisper* You look like a huge jackass right now."

"*whisper* Not now, Flowey."

[Froggit didn't understand what you said, but knew it was nice and was flattered anyway.]

Flowey is so confused right now but I go over and give the Froggit a little petting on its head.

"There, there, buddy. Heh...Adorable looking fella you are really."

[Froggit is grateful and feels bad for attack you.]

"Awww..."

"Really? All that over a compliment?"

"This world might be kill or be killed, but a little kindness can go a heck of a long way. Ain't that right, buddy?"

[Froggit feels happy and seems reluctant to fight you.]

"Thanks, buddy."

[MERCY selected.]

[New options available.]

[FLEE]

[SPARE]

[SPARE selected.]

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 2 gold.]

"Did...You really just win?"

"I call that checkmate, Mr. YesKill."

I let Flowey processes that for a moment, poor flower-boy looks as though I've blown his mind. After a bit more petting, the Foggit leaves and we head into the next area. Now I'm halted by a bridge that is covered in spikes.

"So is this the puzzle?"

"This is the puzzle, but..."

"Yes?

"I forgot how it goes."

"Eh...It doesn't look too bad. I mean, these things are pretty short. Plus I saw that weird pattern on the floor."

Just to be sure, I double back and check the pattern again.

"Got it?"

"Got it."

We go back to the 'puzzle' and walk through the spikes safely before making it to the other side.

"Tah-dah! Teamwork power!"

"Just how old are you?"

"You won't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"Twenty eight."

"Told you so."

"You're either lying or you're suffering from massive head trauma."

"Believe what you will, flower-boy. It doesn't bother me in the slightest."

We travel into the next room but for some reason my right leg stiffens up. I look at Flowey with concern, as it is the one helping to move that leg.

"What's wrong?"

"Shhh...Do you hear that?"

I listen for anything odd but quickly force myself to jump backward due to something I see. No more than a second later does a ball of fire suddenly hit the ground where we just were. Seeing this makes Flowey gulp in fright.

"Talk to me, Flowey. What is this thing?"

It's shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

"I-I-It's...It's...HER."

All the way at the far end of the room, stands an ominous silhouette. I can't make out much, but what I do see is horns, glowing eyes, and fists of fire. This is not going to end well.

[liikeglitterandgcld]

CHARACTER MEME !

FULL NAME   Velvet Crowe

GENDER, SEXUALITY   Female; Bisexual

ETHNICITY, SPECIES   Daemon, Therion—Formerly human

BIRTHPLACE, BIRTHDATE   The Village of Aball, Eastgand, July 26th 

GUILTY PLEASURES   Velvet is hardass. Plain and simple. She’s a hard to get to know, let alone talk to, but once she lets down her guard, Velvet has a soft spot for flowers, dogs, someone with a knack of puns (even if she says she hates them), in general sweet gestures like making coffee or tea for her. 

PHOBIAS    Does abandonment count as a phobia? Well if so.... Loneliness through abandonment—regardless real or imaginary with her overthinking. Dying without fulfilling her ambitions. Not sure if this counts as a phobia as well, but she has stage fright.

WHAT THEY WOULD BE INFAMOUS FOR   She’s earned a reputation, given rather, the title of “Lord of Calamity”— the unholy, the ugliness of human emotions, how dangerous human emotions are. Someone who seeks to destroy homes and cities, leaving them in ruins.  Leaving a mount of dead bodies—be it human or daemon in her wake. A daemon with the ability to eat other daemons.

WHAT WOULD / HAVE THEY GOTTEN ARRESTED FOR  Her existence as a daemon alone is enough to have be thrown in prison for 3 years. On top of inciting a prison riot, breaking out of prison, kidnapping, multiple counts of murder, destruction of property. Arson. She even ruined a town’s economy by destroying their trade. There’s probably a few more I’m missing

CHARACTER YOU SHIP THEM WITH    Within her own canon? Eizen and Magilou. I absolutely adore EiVel/Veizen, probably more than MagiVel. Both ships show different sides of Velvet and have different dynamics with her and I LOVE that. 

As far as my own muses + muses I would like to see play out because of dynamics and history be platonic OR romantic.... You have DM me if you’re curious (*≧艸≦)  But I will say that  I’m a sucker of two broken people coming together and becoming whole. All of Velvet’s ships be it canon or crossover reflect that to some degree 

shut up I found my shipping trope

CHARACTER MOST LIKELY TO MURDER THEM   If she hasn’t killed herself first by thrusting herself into death’s grip first? Out of my muses......... Noctis probably? If Velvet hasn’t  tried to devour him like she would a daemon. Either Noctis or Ruby Rose from my muses. Ormy AU Eva Sparda for a entirely different reason...........

FAVORITE BOOK GENRE    Something informative and useful, like cookbook. Outside of that, just give her recommendation. probably some sort of contemporary novels. She likes multiple genres in novels as opposed to focusing one genre in particular. Fantasy elements she tends to like, and usually those go hand in hand in adventure/exploration settings. Types of mystery tend to hold her attention as well. 

LEAST FAVORITE BOOK CLICHÉ   Velvet hates the idea someone needing to change who they are in order to find love.  Romance novels tend to bore her anyway. She’ll read it once if it was okay, but if a book has someone who changes themselves just for someone to love them will. That’s will be in the trash.

TALENTS OR POWERS  - Velvet’s main ability is from her left arm—her daemon arm. She can devour basically almost anything (almost as in she has standards). Daemons, humans, or Malakhim/Seraphim— it doesn’t matter. She’ll eat anyone that gets in her way I won’t lie, it is akin to cannib/alism of sorts, especially during her cutscenes regarding her traumatic nightmares. Another important is that Velvet can absorb a being’s malevolence* (mass of negative emotion) into herself. 

Another important aspect of her daemon arm is that Velvet can absorb  magical attacks. Say a fireball flung at her. She can absorb it and toss back at back. Or—in terms on gameplay—can create certain types of attacks based off the type of daemon and hit their weaknesses (it’s that hard  to translate in an rp or in a fanfictions setting to be truthful)

Velvet is also incredibly acrobatic. While she is proficient and professionally taught to use a one handed sword, she prefers using martial art(e)s with heavy focus on her legs and feet as most of her attacks (aided by boot blades). She’s a mix of professionally taught and self taught in her style of fighting with use of her gauntlet blade and hidden boot blades compliment her style.

WHY SOMEONE MIGHT LOVE THEM    While Velvet is hard person to befriend, let alone talk to, she is incredibly caring person. Not to the point of doting. She prefers not to let that show often as part of her reflection that’s a daemon, a monster. Let’s be real, anyone who falls in love with her and genuinely cares about her is foolish person not to mention reckless. Which is she herself but regardless. The more they can get Velvet with her guard down the more her humanity shows—if someone she cares is injured by their recklessness, she’ll angry because she’ll be worried about them. She’s goal driven and ambitious.

Velvet doesn’t take bullshit and stubborn, which is both a positive and negative. She can blunt with her words—as a means to encouragement and not to do things without regrets. Synergy on the battlefield, if one keeps up with her. And, her cooking. Not saying that is not the only reason why someone might love them, but it’s a nice bonus. She also gets flustered when embarrassed.

WHY SOMEONE MIGHT HATE THEM     I mentioned this already, but Velvet is a closed off person. She is not easy to befriend. She’s is incredibly stubborn person, she’ll headbutt with people on their views and opinions that close to home to her. Not only is she selfish, Velvet IS without a doubt, self absorbed, mostly due to her one track mind of her goals. She has no problem with killing people—be it people who stood against her or as an act of mercy. Velvet gives 0 fucks if you hate her or dislike her. In her mind, that’s their problem, not hers. She’ can be seen as callous and heartless because of that.

For someone who IS a daemon, she feels emotions deeply and strongly. And because of that, arguments and clashes are bound to happen.

HOW THEY CHANGE   - Spoilers for Tales of Berseria

Before finding out who Innominat was and how exactly the therions were connected, Velvet had one track of mind of vengeance, against the man she had once called family. There’s a chunk where the game doesn’t sugar coat that Velvet is a terrible person, but there moments where’s parts of herself, the loving sister, that she locked away emerge bit by bit as Laphicet traveled with her. But the more there closing in on the reveal, the more obvious Velvet is completely focused on her goal, the obvious how broken is she and that the only thing driving her will to live is by killing this man who is basically the game’s version of the pope.

After the reveal, Velvet is a broken mess, lashing out. Everything she’s done in was in her brother’s name, her only reason to stay alive during those 3 years in prison fighting daemons day in and day out. And it was for nothing. Every single thing. Before Velvet basically tries to sacrifice herself which??? she’s basically trying to commit suicide essentially?? Laphicet, this tiny malak boy that had befriended her and the others, that slowly started becoming his own person and free will, (and by extension Eizen) tells her to snap out of her and that he’ll always be there for her. After that Velvet starts admitting to herself that her actions, her motivations was for herself and using her brother as an excuse (there’s some truth it is for her brother but its more for her than anyone else). Velvet also starts to mellow out. She’s still a terrible person but has more chill.

WHY YOU LOVE THEM   Velvet is a terrible person. She is.. Anyone who’s played tob knows this. She’s starts out as this villainous person (she still is in what the game’s militant church views her.) As the game goes on, she becomes an anti-hero. The game doesnt sugar coat that she’s done some terrible things all for the sake of revenge. She is this hardened person who’s cynical, jaded, and unbeliveably bitter. Yet deep down she’s a good person,who cares deeply and strongly for those she loves and cares for.

Another spoiler but! There’s a point where if she doesn’t stop to reserve the effects her brother in law cleansing, the world is fucked basically. But she doesn’t do that for humanity’s sake. She does so out of responsibility—this is her family and she’s the only one capable of stopping him and his god— and because of her goal. She’s committed to her goal of killing him. Helping save the world meant little to her and was a beneficial side effect of her actions. ToB has its own share of flaws but it shines it shines brights.

tagged by: @e0nian​ [ thank you ♥ i took so long to figure out who i wanted to use for the meme 

tagging:  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯   steal it if you want

[radicalgh0st]

Camp Camp Monster au

so i know just about everyone has their own monster au but uh i wanted to make one of my own!

i’m kinda nerdy about mythology and folklore so i had a lot of fun looking up different creatures to make my au unique!

long put under cut because i also have notes on what creature the characters are and why i chose them!

First, all characters related to Camp Campbell are Hybrid (or crossbreed), and the camp is basically a refuge for monsters, albeit in different ways for each character. I can go into that in another post. Also, as I started making this post I realized I missed Kevin and Miss Priss, but otherwise I have just about every character, excluding (most of) the townspeople.

David - Werewolf/Vampire Hybrid

I know werewolf is a pretty common choice for David, and that’s because it’s cute. Originally David was a Werewolf/Werecat Hybrid, but then I thought it’d be funny for him to be half Vampire because it’d conflict with his love for being out in the sun. 

Gwen - Witch Faun

Witch!Gwen was always going to be a thing, then I read a fic where she was some kind of Faun and loved that idea. I can link to the fic when I find it, but I’m gonna finish this long post first.

Cameron - Trickster

I didn’t know what to have Cameron as for the longest time because I felt that nothing fit well enough. I also wasn’t sure what his role would be, and I still don’t. However, having Cameron as a Trickster just seems like a good fit considering all the shit he gets up to.

Jasper - (Ghost) Werecat/Werewolf

So, of course Jasper is going to be a Ghost, and I always had him as some sort of Were-creature. First, he was just a Werewolf who eventually turned into a Ghost, but when I changed David’s type I felt that Jasper could take on his original idea.

Also, originally Jasper wasn’t going to have a real role in the au, but god if I don’t love the boy enough to actually keep him around.

Quartermaster - Homunculus

So, yeah, having the Quartermaster as a Undead seemed pretty fitting, and I couldn’t think of anything else. Then, while still researching I decided some kind of artificial life fit pretty well, especially with my headcanons for the QM in canon.

Max - Human

Yes, Max is the outlier in all of Camp Campbell. Max is the only Human. The idea here is that Max’s parents didn’t care enough about what camp they were sending him to that they accidentally ended up sending him to a camp that was secretly for monsters.

Neil - Harpy/Ziz

Neil with feathers just has ideas to it that I like. With his anxiety it gives way for crazy molting and giving him something to pull at. His mother is a Harpy, and his father is a Ziz. The Ziz is a creature from Jewish mythology that is described as a griffon-like bird; in the mythology it’s described as having a wingspan large enough to cover the sun, but Neil’s wings are nothing like that due to his Harpy side.

Nikki - Rougarou/Dryad

So...Werewolf!Nikki is a favorite, but I didn’t want to go that obvious...and went with a different version of the same thing. A simple explanation is that Rougarous are Werewolves from Cajun folklore, the name taken from loup-garou, which is the French word for a a Werewolf. I got Dryad from a fic as well, I think it’s the same one that had Faun!Gwen but I could be remembering wrong; it also ties in with her history in the Flower Scouts.

Dolph - Alp/Brownie

I always knew I wanted Dolph to be something like Brownie. Why? Because I think the idea of him being a household spirit is cute, I don’t know why but I just do. An Alp, is a night demon that is often likened to a Vampire; and its also some kind of Elf, which is just another kind of household spirit.

Nerris - Elf/Human

Kind of obvious, and I couldn’t think of anything that would fit her more. Her mother is an Elf, and her father is a Human.

Nurf - Minotaur/Dragon

Minotaur!Nurf just fits, so does Dragon!Nurf. I like the idea of an angry Nurf preparing to charge while snorting fire out of his nose.

Ered - Selkie/Vampire

I haven’t figured out how Ered’s dads fit in, but I always wanted her to be a Selkie. I love Selkies, I don’t know why, I just do, and I feel like it’s a good fit for her. I went through other ideas for the second kind, but ultimately decided on Vampire. I realize I have quite a few blood-suckers in this.

Preston - Satyr/Human

Okay so I know a popular choice for Preston is Unicorn, but I never understood why. Satyrs are always connected to fertility and sexual desire, yes, but they’re also featured in ancient Greek theatre. There used to an entire genre of Satyr plays, but now there is only one complete play remaining.

Harrison - Wizard

Also pretty self explanatory. In this au, a Wizard is a human from non-magical origins who is either born with magic or gains magic in life (as opposed to a Witch, who are distantly related to fairies and demons). I can get into the difference between Witches and Wizards some other time.

Space Kid - Changeling

I had a lot of trouble with Space Kid. I know a lot of people put him as an alien, and I get that, but I personally feel like it doesn’t fit him. I originally wanted him to be a creature that could never get to space, just to make his obsession with it more meaningful, but then the fact that his character is related to a real life person showed some complications. I thought about having him also present as a Wizard, but then got the idea of him being a Changeling (which also brought in some angsty ideas for my boy).

Gregg - Dwarf/Bigfoot

I didn’t know what to do with the older counselors, which led to this. Basically I chose this just for laughs. He’s half of one of the smallest creatures in folklore, and half of a cryptid that’s known for being large.

Darla - Adlet/Melusine

Somehow, I actually put thought into Darla, as opposed to my joking around with Gregg. First I was going to have her be some kind of Yokai, but then that had so many options that I felt didn’t work. I’ve seen her portrayed as a mermaid, and while I like that, I feel that mermaids are kind of tricky to use.

An Adlet is a race of creatures in Inuit mythology from Greenland. Adlets are basically people with human bodies and dog legs, the lower part being canine and upper part being human.

The Melusine is a water spirit from fresh water that’s much like a Mermaid. From waist up, the Melusine is a woman, but from waist below she is a serpent or fish. Sometimes the Melusine is depicted with having wings or two tails, or even both. The Melusine has also been called a Fairy.

Sasha - Dryad

Originally Sasha was a Nymph, but I wanted to give her a bit more. I wanted at least one of the Flower Scouts to be a Dryad, same as Nikki, and that just ended up going to Sasha.

Erin - Samodiva

Also fitting in with the Flower Scouts, a Samodiva is a Slavic nature spirit related to woodland fairies or nymphs.

Tabii - Pixie

Originally Tabii was going to be a more specific kind of nature spirit, but I ended up choosing Pixie for her due to her behavior. Pixies are mischievous and childlike, which I feel fits Tabii.

Pikeman - Rå, Bergsrå

God Pikeman was difficult at first, mostly because I was trying too hard and had a more difficult idea for the Woodscouts.

Don’t be confused with the Egyptian God Ra (note the little diacritic ring). A Rå is a spirit in Norse mythology that protects a certain land. There are different kinds of Rå: Skogsrå, Huldra, Sjörå, Havsrå, and Bergsrå. Skogrså and Huldra are connected to the forest but they’re female, Sjörå and Havsrå are freshwater and saltwater respectively, and Bergsrå are connected to mountains. I couldn’t have Pikeman be a Skogrså or Huldra, and it wouldn’t make sense to have his landform be water, so I decided on Bergsrå, which also ended up matching with Petrol, albeit unintentionally.

Jermy - Swamp Creature

I...don’t really have much to say here. I’m still not even fully happy with my decision, but I can’t be bothered much more than this.

Snake - Tiyanak

Originally I was going to make another joke by matching Snake with a Multo (the spirit of a dead person looking for justice) for a voice actor joke. I don’t remember why I changed it, but at this point I don’t want to think too hard on the Woodscouts.

A Tiyanak is a demon from Philippine mythology that is formed from the soul of an unbaptized, dead baby.

Petrol - Troll

I settled on Troll pretty fast, compared to the other Woodscouts at least, and it ended up matching with Pikeman unintentionally; Bergsrå live in mountains either with their relatives or with trolls.

Daniel - Demon

Self explanatory. I’ll probably have him be a specific kind of Demon once I flesh out the different kinds a bit more.

Jen - Demon

Also self explanatory. If I end up making Daniel a specific kind of Demon, Jen will probably end up being the same.

Bonquisha - Satyress

A Satyress is basically the female version of a Satyr. I chose this mostly due to the shirts Bonquisha wears, and lack of better ideas.

Katie (Waitress) - Faun

Okay, I don’t know why, but when I was making this list this just came out and I just can’t bring myself to change it so yeah. Katie is the waitress from the Bonquisha episode, and Katie is just the name that came to me. I feel like she’d be a cute little faun with all those freckles.

[hellotweetygirl]

getting to know shinee world

Tagged by: @onthighsbelongtotaemin​ 

01: How did you get into SHINee? Boys Over Flowers. My best friend at the time was rediscovering her Korean heritage about four years ago and harassed me until I sat and watched that kdrama. Watching it lead to YouTubing the OST and it all went downhill from there... :)  

02: Your favorite member in SHINee is? Jinki...with Minho a close second

03: Bias wrecker anyone? Seeing as I basically went through all of SHINee before I got snatched by Jinki any one of them can do real damage at any given moment- but... I have a tag.... #*rocks self and chants* not a blinger ....so there’s that. 

04: Your favorite SHINee OTP (if you have one) Minkey!!!! and Jongyu are a close second 

05: Is there a SHINee ship you don’t like? Yep. Jongkey have never really worked as a couple for me- I don’t see it *shrugs*... and their shippers were a bit of a turn off when I was getting into the fandom. (yes, I said it)   

06: The SHINee member you think is most easily shipped Jinki. I ship all the ‘On” ships lol it’s so easy too!! Jinki is so loveable and really works with each of the members in their own really unique ways. 

07: Your favorite Korean song by SHINee Honesty.  It’s my morning ringtone. I hear it constantly. I adore the lyrics. I’m a sucker for huge feelings and for our bond between SHINee and shawols and that song just means so much. 

08: Your favorite Japanese song by SHINee Ahhhhhh! I’m a sucker for most of the Japanese discography so this is hard but- “I’m With You” is a total fave! THE HARMONIES ;;; I even wrote a fic around it lol 

09: Favorite album Misconceptions of Us! It was the current album when I was really getting into SHINee and I just remember sitting there in the dark and my bed on YT and getting my ears blown off by every song and being amazed (It’s the first album I bought too!) 

10: Your favorite live performance Sleepless Night. Hands down the one I go back to the most. 

11: First SHINee MV you saw Sherlock. It was an experience. lol

12: Your first impression of SHINee Don’t fall for the one with long hair. ...Which was quickly followed by ‘how are they all so good looking??” 

13: Is there a SHINee member that recently impressed you? They all impress me. Constantly. Taem cause he’s grown so so much in the last few years and become a remarkable soloist. Minho for always going the extra everything to love the people around him and be the best at everything he works on- and need I go into how his singing has blossomed?? Kibum because he never fails at anything and he hasn’t let hardship make him hard. Jonghyun because he’s doing all he wants and has found a safe place to showcase his mucic and his heart. Jinki because he can live in happy abandon and enjoy life fully. 

14: The SHINee member you think has changed the most over the years Taemin. totally gone from little bean and evil maknae to be a man who holds his own and contributes to his team and his dreams solidly and respectably. (if that makes sense)  

15: The SHINee member you think has changed the least Jinki. I can’t exactly explain why- but like he just has this feeling of constancy about him, this center cog that stays true even as everything changes and revolves around him. And I guess for me that’s comforting? 

16: Your favorite SHINee MV MTTM or Colorful. MTTM is a riot and so fun to watch and Colorful gives me so many feeels 

17: Your favorite SHINee lyric “I think you’re wonderful, I think you’re magical, because of you, my life is colorful.”  (All the other ones I like are sad ones and I don’t want to be too depressing lol) 

18: The SHINee member you think has the best face Kibum. He’s stunning from every angle, every day, no matter what he’s doing or is going on.  

19: The SHINee member you think has the best body Jinki. #curves 

20: The SHINee member you think has the best personality Minho. I mean they all have great personalities and ones that match so well with others but the one that stands out above and beyond the rest is Minho because he just goes so far beyond in loving and caring for people and I think that is so admirable, and I love his openness with people too and how he is eager for everything. 

21: A SHINee picture that makes you smile SO MANY CHOICES uggggh! (Going through my ot5 tag doesn’t make it easier lol) But this one I have printed and hanging on my pinboard- I smile every time I see it! 

22: A SHINee picture that makes you nostalgic

23: Your favorite quote by someone in SHINee This one is on my laptop desktop pinned there...

“I hope to become someone comforting to people’s tiring and difficult moments, someone who can give out positive energy to a lot of people. Of course, I’m human too–I have times when my emotions are unstable, tired, or irritated, but I have to strive hard to find a place of my own." -Minho

24: A picture of your bias with someone else you like in another group

Ehh I don’t have an answer for this one 

25: Have you seen SHINee live? No, I haven’t ;;;;; I wasn’t able to go to the fanmeets last year 

26: Do you have a favorite variety show moment? I’m the fool who looks at everything SHINee does with heart eyes so... (Sorry my brain just can’t pull one moment up) 

27: How would you describe SHINee in three words? Happiness. Inspiring. Professional. 

28: Which SHINee video would you show to someone who has never heard of them before? I showed the Sleepless Night live to someone who was a childhood best friend and she barely watched half of it she was so busy making fun of them and what I knew about them... So I’m not really eager to repeat that experience again ever. :( 

29. Is there a memory in connection to SHINee that you will always treasure? Getting up super early (in my time zone) to live stream the first Tokyo Dome concert and sitting on tumblr experiencing it with everyone- here and there- and just feeling everything and knowing I’d never been in a fandom like this before or again- feeling united and knowing this was special.

Tagging: @striptaese​, @jinkirella​, @shineejobros​, @shinyaqua​ -pass or play lovelies!

[kim26chiu]

The London Review of Books Is Required Reading

People often ask me how they can follow my career path into urbanism writing. I generally discourage that. But for those who are interested, it involves reading – lots and lots and reading. And not just on urbanism but not a wide range of topics. I can only make many of the connections I do because I’m tapped in a wide of range of things, most of which are like the parts of the iceberg underwater you never see.

As it happens, some folks also ask me what they should read or what I read.

One thing of course is to sign up for my exclusive monthly newsletter, where I include my hand-selected list of some of the best links I read that month.

One periodical that most people don’t read but should is the London Review of Books. Virtually all newspapers and periodicals are fungible at some level. They cover the same stories with the same slants and frames. But the London Review of Books is different.

The LRB does review books, but is unlike a typical book review. They often get the best or one of the best people in the world on the subject at hand to write the review. This sometimes backfires because of a de facto rivalry with the book author. But generally it works great. They also provide such in-depth summaries of the books in question that your rarely need to actually read them, non-fiction at least. This is important because realistically nobody can come close to reading all the books out there.

They also have longform essays on a wide range of other topics that bring perspectives you are unlikely to get elsewhere. Some of their articles are directly relevant to urbanism, such as this James Meek piece about a Cadbury factory that relocated from England to Poland.

The online version is subscriber only, but a number of articles are generally available for free. I want to share a selection of these free pieces from the current issue to give you a flavor of what you’ll get.

Malise Ruthven takes a look inside Saudi Arabia, its royal family, and its wealth.

The faith tradition that holds the Saudi system together – for now – is Wahhabi Islam, the iconoclastic creed of the 18th-century Islamic reformer Muhammad ibn Abd al-Wahhab, whose pact with the Al Saud family led to the creation of the modern kingdom in 1932. Al-Wahhab’s stormtroopers, the Ikhwan, enabled Ibn Saud’s rise to power. They killed unarmed villagers regarded as apostates, thought nothing of slaughtering women and children, and routinely slit the throats of male captives. Contemporary accounts describe the horrors afflicted on the city of Taif in 1924, when the Ikhwan murdered hundreds of civilians, in a massacre similar to the violence committed by Islamic State or al-Qaida today. As an Arab witness wrote, Ibn Saud’s forces ‘normally give no quarter, sparing neither boys nor old men, veritable messengers of death from whose grasp no one escapes’. Some 400,000 people are reported to have been massacred by the Ikhwan during the early days of the Saudi state. The Wahhabi understanding of tawhid, the theology of monotheism or divine unicity, which forbids the veneration of any person or object other than Allah, is still used today to justify the ban on all forms of non-Muslim public worship in the kingdom, as well as the confiscation of non-Wahhabi textual sources such as Quranic commentaries brought in by pilgrims from South Asia, who have had them removed by the religious police while attending the Hajj. But tawhid, a theology that claims to be fundamentally opposed to polytheism, has an unexpected consequence. It mines the Islamic discourse to sustain a totalitarian outlook whose actual purpose is the preservation and enrichment of the tribal dynasty that owns and governs this enormous country in its exclusive interest.

Novelist Colm Tóibín takes a brief look at Barcelona, Joan Miró, Las Ramblas, terrorism, and tourism.

At that time the Ramblas was still the place where locals strolled in the evening. It had begun as a small stream whose channel was used in the dry season as a roadway. In the 18th century the stream was diverted and the Ramblas became a place to walk, with plane trees offering shelter. It is about the width of a four-lane street, with kiosks selling newspapers, flowers and (these days) ice cream, and some outdoor tables for bars, with two narrow lanes on either side, like an afterthought, for traffic. Although the pedestrian section is slightly raised, there is no real barrier between the lanes for cars and the boulevard for walkers.

Miró’s tiles were put down in an almost-circle at Plaça d’Os, just above the Liceu Opera House, near the Boqueria Market. Miró loved the idea that people would actually walk on his tiles, made in his customary colours – blue, yellow, red, black – and using some of his customary iconography. This was the first sign of a new spirit in Barcelona, which would use culture, civic pride and the idea of vivid street life to reimagine the city, giving rise, in turn, to the development of mass tourism.

Amia Srinivasan takes a fascinating and creepy look at octopuses.

Octopuses do not have any stable colour or texture, changing at will to match their surroundings: a camouflaged octopus can be invisible from just a few feet away. Like humans, they have centralised nervous systems, but in their case there is no clear distinction between brain and body. An octopus’s neurons are dispersed throughout its body, and two-thirds of them are in its arms: each arm can act intelligently on its own, grasping, manipulating and hunting. (Octopuses have arms, not tentacles: tentacles have suckers only at their tips. Squid and cuttlefish have a combination of arms and tentacles.) In evolutionary terms, the intelligence of octopuses is an anomaly. The last common ancestor between octopuses on the one hand, and humans and other intelligent animals (monkeys, dolphins, dogs, crows) on the other, was probably a primitive, blind worm-like creature that existed six hundred million years ago. Other creatures that are so evolutionarily distant from humans – lobsters, snails, slugs, clams – rate pretty low on the cognitive scale. But octopuses – and to some extent their cephalopod cousins, cuttlefish and squid – frustrate the neat evolutionary division between clever vertebrates and simple-minded invertebrates. They are sophisticated problem solvers; they learn, and can use tools; and they show a capacity for mimicry, deception and, some think, humour. Just how refined their abilities are is a matter of scientific debate: their very strangeness makes octopuses hard to study. Their intelligence is like ours, and utterly unlike ours. Octopuses are the closest we can come, on earth, to knowing what it might be like to encounter intelligent aliens.

The LRB often takes a look at parochial topics like some king from way back in the day, or some debate in contemporary London, that may or may not be of interest to you. If not, you can easily skip them. (As with the New Yorker, it’s difficult to keep up with the LRB, even though the latter is deceptively thin and only comes out every 2-3 weeks. So some skipping is generally needed).

Here’s one of those British pieces, a look at the life of Prince Charles.

At the age of 23 Prince Charles embarked with no great enthusiasm on a six-week training course at the Royal Naval College at Dartmouth. The course had been reduced from the usual three months for him, but it was long enough for Charles to realise that seafaring was yet another area in which he and his father had nothing in common. Prince Philip had a distinguished naval career. His son struggled with navigation, which he found confusing, and he didn’t much like the rough and tumble of life onboard ship. One exercise involved performing an ‘underwater escape from a submarine’: a not inapt image for a life spent trapped in a role he didn’t choose doing things he doesn’t like for people who don’t much appreciate them. That at least has often been his own view. He has made no secret of his difficulties or of the fact that his childhood was unhappy in many ways. An awkward boy who didn’t take after either his bluff father or his pragmatic, dutiful but distant mother, by the age of eight he was already worried about doing the right thing. Once, at lunch with the Mountbattens, Edwina Mountbatten explained to him that he shouldn’t take the stalks out of his strawberries because he could pick them up by the stems and dip them in the sugar. His cousin Pamela Hicks noticed a few minutes later that ‘the poor child was trying to put all the stems back on. That was so sad.’ ‘Sad’ is a word that has often been applied to the Prince of Wales, with every shade of intonation from empathy to contempt. It recurs here in books which are interesting more for what they reveal about the continuing narrative of the royal family and its symbiotic relationship with the media than for anything new in the way of facts.

Not everything is perfect, of course. The LRB has some definite biases that render their takes on various issues suspect. Israel-Palestine is one of them. You’ll quickly find out most of the rest yourself and adjust accordingly. (Hint: one of them is illustrated in the Barcelona piece).

However, I find the LRB consistently the best and most illuminating periodical I read. And no, they didn’t pay me to say this. In fact, I pay them to subscribe. If you want one reading suggestion from me that you’re not likely to get from others, it’s the London Review of Books.

  from Aaron M. Renn http://www.urbanophile.com/2017/09/01/the-london-review-of-books-is-required-reading/

[barb31clem]

The London Review of Books Is Required Reading

People often ask me how they can follow my career path into urbanism writing. I generally discourage that. But for those who are interested, it involves reading – lots and lots and reading. And not just on urbanism but not a wide range of topics. I can only make many of the connections I do because I’m tapped in a wide of range of things, most of which are like the parts of the iceberg underwater you never see.

As it happens, some folks also ask me what they should read or what I read.

One thing of course is to sign up for my exclusive monthly newsletter, where I include my hand-selected list of some of the best links I read that month.

One periodical that most people don’t read but should is the London Review of Books. Virtually all newspapers and periodicals are fungible at some level. They cover the same stories with the same slants and frames. But the London Review of Books is different.

The LRB does review books, but is unlike a typical book review. They often get the best or one of the best people in the world on the subject at hand to write the review. This sometimes backfires because of a de facto rivalry with the book author. But generally it works great. They also provide such in-depth summaries of the books in question that your rarely need to actually read them, non-fiction at least. This is important because realistically nobody can come close to reading all the books out there.

They also have longform essays on a wide range of other topics that bring perspectives you are unlikely to get elsewhere. Some of their articles are directly relevant to urbanism, such as this James Meek piece about a Cadbury factory that relocated from England to Poland.

The online version is subscriber only, but a number of articles are generally available for free. I want to share a selection of these free pieces from the current issue to give you a flavor of what you’ll get.

Malise Ruthven takes a look inside Saudi Arabia, its royal family, and its wealth.

The faith tradition that holds the Saudi system together – for now – is Wahhabi Islam, the iconoclastic creed of the 18th-century Islamic reformer Muhammad ibn Abd al-Wahhab, whose pact with the Al Saud family led to the creation of the modern kingdom in 1932. Al-Wahhab’s stormtroopers, the Ikhwan, enabled Ibn Saud’s rise to power. They killed unarmed villagers regarded as apostates, thought nothing of slaughtering women and children, and routinely slit the throats of male captives. Contemporary accounts describe the horrors afflicted on the city of Taif in 1924, when the Ikhwan murdered hundreds of civilians, in a massacre similar to the violence committed by Islamic State or al-Qaida today. As an Arab witness wrote, Ibn Saud’s forces ‘normally give no quarter, sparing neither boys nor old men, veritable messengers of death from whose grasp no one escapes’. Some 400,000 people are reported to have been massacred by the Ikhwan during the early days of the Saudi state. The Wahhabi understanding of tawhid, the theology of monotheism or divine unicity, which forbids the veneration of any person or object other than Allah, is still used today to justify the ban on all forms of non-Muslim public worship in the kingdom, as well as the confiscation of non-Wahhabi textual sources such as Quranic commentaries brought in by pilgrims from South Asia, who have had them removed by the religious police while attending the Hajj. But tawhid, a theology that claims to be fundamentally opposed to polytheism, has an unexpected consequence. It mines the Islamic discourse to sustain a totalitarian outlook whose actual purpose is the preservation and enrichment of the tribal dynasty that owns and governs this enormous country in its exclusive interest.

Novelist Colm Tóibín takes a brief look at Barcelona, Joan Miró, Las Ramblas, terrorism, and tourism.

At that time the Ramblas was still the place where locals strolled in the evening. It had begun as a small stream whose channel was used in the dry season as a roadway. In the 18th century the stream was diverted and the Ramblas became a place to walk, with plane trees offering shelter. It is about the width of a four-lane street, with kiosks selling newspapers, flowers and (these days) ice cream, and some outdoor tables for bars, with two narrow lanes on either side, like an afterthought, for traffic. Although the pedestrian section is slightly raised, there is no real barrier between the lanes for cars and the boulevard for walkers.

Miró’s tiles were put down in an almost-circle at Plaça d’Os, just above the Liceu Opera House, near the Boqueria Market. Miró loved the idea that people would actually walk on his tiles, made in his customary colours – blue, yellow, red, black – and using some of his customary iconography. This was the first sign of a new spirit in Barcelona, which would use culture, civic pride and the idea of vivid street life to reimagine the city, giving rise, in turn, to the development of mass tourism.

Amia Srinivasan takes a fascinating and creepy look at octopuses.

Octopuses do not have any stable colour or texture, changing at will to match their surroundings: a camouflaged octopus can be invisible from just a few feet away. Like humans, they have centralised nervous systems, but in their case there is no clear distinction between brain and body. An octopus’s neurons are dispersed throughout its body, and two-thirds of them are in its arms: each arm can act intelligently on its own, grasping, manipulating and hunting. (Octopuses have arms, not tentacles: tentacles have suckers only at their tips. Squid and cuttlefish have a combination of arms and tentacles.) In evolutionary terms, the intelligence of octopuses is an anomaly. The last common ancestor between octopuses on the one hand, and humans and other intelligent animals (monkeys, dolphins, dogs, crows) on the other, was probably a primitive, blind worm-like creature that existed six hundred million years ago. Other creatures that are so evolutionarily distant from humans – lobsters, snails, slugs, clams – rate pretty low on the cognitive scale. But octopuses – and to some extent their cephalopod cousins, cuttlefish and squid – frustrate the neat evolutionary division between clever vertebrates and simple-minded invertebrates. They are sophisticated problem solvers; they learn, and can use tools; and they show a capacity for mimicry, deception and, some think, humour. Just how refined their abilities are is a matter of scientific debate: their very strangeness makes octopuses hard to study. Their intelligence is like ours, and utterly unlike ours. Octopuses are the closest we can come, on earth, to knowing what it might be like to encounter intelligent aliens.

The LRB often takes a look at parochial topics like some king from way back in the day, or some debate in contemporary London, that may or may not be of interest to you. If not, you can easily skip them. (As with the New Yorker, it’s difficult to keep up with the LRB, even though the latter is deceptively thin and only comes out every 2-3 weeks. So some skipping is generally needed).

Here’s one of those British pieces, a look at the life of Prince Charles.

At the age of 23 Prince Charles embarked with no great enthusiasm on a six-week training course at the Royal Naval College at Dartmouth. The course had been reduced from the usual three months for him, but it was long enough for Charles to realise that seafaring was yet another area in which he and his father had nothing in common. Prince Philip had a distinguished naval career. His son struggled with navigation, which he found confusing, and he didn’t much like the rough and tumble of life onboard ship. One exercise involved performing an ‘underwater escape from a submarine’: a not inapt image for a life spent trapped in a role he didn’t choose doing things he doesn’t like for people who don’t much appreciate them. That at least has often been his own view. He has made no secret of his difficulties or of the fact that his childhood was unhappy in many ways. An awkward boy who didn’t take after either his bluff father or his pragmatic, dutiful but distant mother, by the age of eight he was already worried about doing the right thing. Once, at lunch with the Mountbattens, Edwina Mountbatten explained to him that he shouldn’t take the stalks out of his strawberries because he could pick them up by the stems and dip them in the sugar. His cousin Pamela Hicks noticed a few minutes later that ‘the poor child was trying to put all the stems back on. That was so sad.’ ‘Sad’ is a word that has often been applied to the Prince of Wales, with every shade of intonation from empathy to contempt. It recurs here in books which are interesting more for what they reveal about the continuing narrative of the royal family and its symbiotic relationship with the media than for anything new in the way of facts.

Not everything is perfect, of course. The LRB has some definite biases that render their takes on various issues suspect. Israel-Palestine is one of them. You’ll quickly find out most of the rest yourself and adjust accordingly. (Hint: one of them is illustrated in the Barcelona piece).

However, I find the LRB consistently the best and most illuminating periodical I read. And no, they didn’t pay me to say this. In fact, I pay them to subscribe. If you want one reading suggestion from me that you’re not likely to get from others, it’s the London Review of Books.

  from Aaron M. Renn http://www.urbanophile.com/2017/09/01/the-london-review-of-books-is-required-reading/

[luneariann]

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