#Mime why did you post so much

[idiotlaintelligent]

All of my favorite Tumblr Blogs as soon as I forget tumblr exist bec of Audhdisn

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[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two four

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Eddie’s sitting on the couch. He’s staring into space, a couch cushion clutched tight to his chest.

Steve creeps in after Robin, hears her say, “Eddie?” softly, presumably so she doesn’t startle him.

He’s sitting in the dark, and they both just leave it that way. Probably an unspoken understanding that they don’t want to unsettle Eddie.

They sit down either side of him, Robin rubbing at his back. Steve keeps his hands to himself, not sure what will be welcome, and even less sure what the fuck he should say. Robin’s just better at this sort of stuff than Steve, maybe because she’s a girl or whatever, but she definitely has the emotional intelligence half of the brain.

Steve doesn’t know if there’s anything he even can say in a situation like this.

Eddie’s eyes are red and his face is wet, and he doesn’t move or look at either of them.

Eventually, Robin speaks gently, “Eddie, we can’t stay here.”

Steve figures whoever did live here probably cleared out when everything went to shit. He’s kind of glad; has no fucking idea how he’d explain away Eddie Munson, possible cult leader and serial killer, breaking into their house.

Steve doesn’t think Eddie’s going to say anything, but he does, after a minute, he nods, and says in a croaky voice, “I want to see Wayne.”

“Yeah, of course,” Robin agrees quickly, “we can do that, right Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, trying to sound sure and confident with that, when Eddie flinches. Visibly flinches. Turning away, shuffling closer to Robin’s end of the couch. And, okay.

Robin looks at him over Eddie’s head. Steve shrugs. Robin shrugs back. No idea.

Steve carefully, making no quick movements, moves his hand in front of his mouth, mimes using the walkie. Robin nods.

Steve jogs out to the car, walkie’s everyone real quick so they can stop looking. The others have already woken Wayne up, discovered that Eddie wasn’t there, and then gone looking for Eddie, so they’re going to head back there and wait for Steve and Robin to bring Eddie over. Explain to Wayne that Eddie’s safe so they don’t leave him worrying in the meantime.

Steve creeps back in, hoping Robs has made some progress getting Eddie moving. She hasn’t, and Steve peeks around the corner, listening. Robin is still rubbing at Eddie’s back, but he’s talking, “didn’t make any sense to come here. It’s all wrong. It all looks wrong it’s...not how we had it. Our stuffs not here,” Eddie sniffs, his voice breaking, “I thought I’d find them here.”

And then Eddie is sobbing, face buried into the cushion, sobbing so hard his whole body is hitching. He’s making noises that tear at Steve, it’s one of the worst things Steve has ever seen, such an outpouring of grief. Eddie’s so loud with it, almost wailing, barely able to breathe his chest is so wracked with it.

Steve feels absolutely useless, but Robin’s looking for him over the back of the couch, and as soon as he sees her his feet carry him over. Robin’s crying too. Steve’s pretty sure his own eyes are wet. It’s just so awful to watch. So painful, Eddie’s grief.

Steve realizes now, why Robin was so horrified. The truth of it finally sinking in now he sees the evidence of it. Eddie loved them, loved them so much that loosing them is breaking him.

Steve sits back on the couch, Eddie looking up for a second when he feels the couch dip, and suddenly he’s thrown himself at Steve, still shaking with those heaving sobs as Steve reflexively wraps his arms around him. It hurts like fuck on Steve’s broken ribs, but Steve bites it back, like fuck is reminding Eddie of that right now.

“I shouldn't have come here,” Eddie chokes out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Eddie’s making Steve’s neck wet, and his great heaving sobs make Steve arms hitch along with them. Over the fluff of Eddie’s hair, Steve sees it as Rob starts crying fully, wiping at her nose with her sleeve, her face crumpling with it.

Steve swallows thickly, trying to hold it together but knowing he’s loosing it, and he rubs at Eddie's back, telling him, "it's okay, it'll be okay," even though Steve has no idea if it is or even if it ever will be.

It feels like a small eternity before Eddie sits up and finally moves. He doesn’t look at Steve, has his eyes squeezed shut as he scrubs at his face, and when Steve reaches for him, he flinches so hard he almost falls off the couch.

Rob is there for him then, telling him, “easy, easy,” and getting Eddie up and walking him to the car, Eddie half leaning on her.

Eddie’s opening the car door before Steve even fully stops, high tailing it away like his ass is on fire. Wayne is there in the doorway of the motel room.

Easy enough to find, it’s the only motel in Hawkins, and Jon’s car is parked outside the right room.

Wayne opens the door as Steve kills the engine, and Steve watches in the dim light as Eddie practically throws himself at Wayne. He’s sobbing again, Steve can hear it.

Steve’s only half out the car, but Nancy’s there, shaking her head, “we should leave them to it.”

They’re not going to go back to sleep, but they go through the motions anyway. Steve has a shower, really feels like he needs it. He takes a few minutes extra in there, scrubbing at his face and washing his hair, being very careful of his stitches. He gets changed into sleep pants after, and a loose tee shirt, lying in bed. Even if he just lies here, at least it’s rest of some kind. The sun will be up in an hour away, and the kids had said something about helping out at the sports hall, making sandwiches and putting together bundles of emergency supplies and stuff like that.

Steve said he’d drive them.

“Come on Dingus, I can hear you thinking about it.”

“He wouldn’t even look at me, and he flinched Rob, did you see that? And then…” it just doesn’t make any sense.

“Yeah, I did but...out of all of us, you’re the one he hurt the worst. Like, way the worst. He nearly killed you, Steve. Like, literally, if Eddie had taken another ten seconds to wake up, you would have been lights out. Maybe he remembers.”

That does make sense, Steve hums in agreement, that’s got to be hard for him, “yeah.”

“Maybe it’s hard for him to see you because...well. That’s got to be a shitty memory. Plus, trauma does funny things, what if he remembers you fighting back, you know?”

And that’s true, Steve did land one good hit on Eddie with his bat, more reflexive than anything. Before Eddie had taken the thing right out of Steve’s hands and snapped it like it was nothing, that is.

So yeah, maybe, Steve figures, “he was saying sorry.”

Robin hums again.

Steve’s ribs are healed up, his stitches long gone, all his bruises and scrapes are gone. The town is, kind of, back on it’s feet. Sure, there’s probably an abnormally high number of for sale signs in Hawkins, but everyone who was going to come back has done. Enough that Steve’s got part time shifts at the video store, at least. Mostly to keep up appearances; now that it’s all over, Owen’s got them all a pay out. Essentially for damages and trauma or whatever, but also with a very clear ‘keep your mouths shut’ attached to it.

For that first month, Eddie pretty much only speaks to Dustin. He stays with Wayne, and once every couple of days he lets Dustin know that he’s okay. The message Dustin brings back is the same every time, “he’s okay, he just needs some time.”

@autumncrocusandladybug @duckyreads @neonfruitbowl @slv-333 @starlight-archer @skys-archive @justdreamersdream @moomkin77 @prazinos @dragonmama76 @lingeringmirth @darkwitchoferie @weirdandabsurd42 @zoeweee @thennic @xiaq @tinyplanet95 @steddieyourself @chrystal-lovee @futuristicunknown86 @grtwdsmwhr @mugloversonly @wonderland-girl143-blog

[betterbooktitles]

"I’m certain I’m not the only millennial who feels we as a nation have taken a dizzying turn when it comes to drugs. I remember a uniformed police officer showing up once a week in 5th Grade (a year before Sex Ed) to explain how to avoid buying and taking drugs. Luckily, I already knew the dangers of the drug trade because I had seen The Usual Suspects. I knew cocaine was a bad thing to buy, sell, or steal, especially from a drug kingpin. The D.A.R.E. program, however, let me know how important it was to say no to anything fun, including alcohol. At least until I understood a little algebra first. We did role-playing exercises where we walked one by one toward the portly police officer and he casually asked if we wanted to hit a mimed joint with him. All we had to do was say “no” and walk to the other side of the room, defying the only rule I knew about improv. We wrote essays about how important it was to preserve our pristine bodies and minds, obviously unsullied since we had yet to take the class teaching us how puberty was going to defile them both. I’m still mad that my friend Nicole’s essay beat mine in a contest, and she got to read hers in front of the whole school all because she had the benefit of an older brother who took too much acid and sat in her room all night talking about why the existence of light proved God was real. My essay about a time I saw my friend’s dad drink a beer and then drive his truck somewhere was also good! We signed pledges to enter the new millennium drug-free. We took the red pencils that said “Friends Don’t Let Friends Do Drugs” and sharpened all of them down to say “Let Friends Do Drugs,” “Friends Do Drugs,” “Do Drugs,” and simply “Drugs.” Despite that little rebellious act, my friends and I spent a solid six months swearing we’d never put any harmful substance into our bodies besides every form of candy available.

Imagine how I feel now as a D.A.R.E. graduate becoming my dad’s drug dealer. It’s less thrilling than I thought it would be. Between my father’s warning not to hang around one specific neighborhood in Cleveland as a kid and nearly every TV show about drugs, I thought I’d always be buying marijuana from an intimidating dude who definitely had a gun and would use it immediately if he thought I was wearing a wire. Instead, I now buy marijuana from a well-lit storefront that looks like the Apple Store. I’ve even gone to a place where a guy with an iPad explained what each available strain would do to me. I buy what sounds good with all the confidence of a man pointing at items on a menu written in a language he can’t read. I put it all in a cardboard box. I place a book on top. I mail the box to my dad from my local post office. I tell myself the book is to hide the contraband crossing state lines, but in truth, the book is what clears my conscience. I want to send my dad something edifying while also sending him the drug that all of America worried would make me unable to read if I tried it once. The unrequested book is a red herring to distract from the vice, like when you were young and didn’t want to buy condoms outright at the store so you cushioned them between a pack of peanut M&Ms and a magazine. Hmm, what else did I need, — right, while I’m here — might as well pick up a few condoms.

Right as marijuana becomes legal in most states, I’m about done with the drug. I’ve had three good times on edibles, and one of them was when I felt nothing and fell asleep at 9:30 PM. I’m flabbergasted that my dad likes edibles. He seems to be a man free of anxiety. Case in point, I once brought him some THC lozenges to our summer holiday in Chautauqua, and around dinner time I told him “You might want to only take half of what I gave you” to which he replied, “I took it hours ago.” He was stoned and no one noticed.

While I’m stuck in my head, stoned or sober, wondering why I didn’t take some acting gig 15 years ago, wondering if I’ll ever make enough money, worrying I’m doing everything wrong including in this moment as I write this sentence, my dad is enjoying himself.

Judith Grisel, the author of Never Enough: The Neuroscience And Experience of Addiction, describes using marijuana as throwing “a bucket of red paint” on your brain. She was approaching the stimulant clinically in terms of how it differed from the laser focus of other drugs (THC reacts with many receptors in the brain, cocaine focuses on one), but now every time I smoke, I think of the red paint metaphor. While other people seem able to crank an entire joint and do insanely complicated stuff like function at their jobs, I am reduced to a gelatinous blob, on top of which my eyes and brain are navigating a dream state that, like many dreams, isn’t all that interesting the next day. Mostly, I get high and can’t decide what I want to watch on TV or what video game I want to play, I realize how hungry I am, and then I fall asleep with cereal still stuck to my teeth. Pot, for me, is like the squid ink hitting the screen in Mario Kart: I can still see where I’m going, but everything gets a little harder to do, and the panicked half-blindness makes everything slightly more chaotically fun."

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Other articles include:

An essay on Claire Dederer's book Monsters and movies made by monsters.

Writing inside a Toyota Service Center.

Writing mistresses.

[kasagia]

Skin and bones

Pairing: Halbrand/Annatar/We know who x fem!elf! reader Summary: Ever since Galadriel revealed Halbrand's true identity, you've been having some very strange dreams… dreams that aren't the innocent figments of your imagination you thought they were. Warning: I HAVEN'T WATCHED THE RINGS OF POWER. All my knowledge is based on fanfics, short scenes posted on yt and uncle google. I just couldn't get this guy out of my mind... And I don't regret anything. Inspired by: David Kushner - "Skin and bones" Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

"Y/N…" A cold shiver runs down your spine as you feel HIS hot, quiet, velvety whisper in your ear. You keep your eyes tightly closed, not wanting to see what image your mind, tired from today's meetings, has put before you this time.

For days now, your imagination had been tormenting you with strange dreams. Dreams in which you were haunted by him.

Halbrand.

You avoided speaking his true name. Somehow, the face of the one you should have hated with all your heart did not match the face of the one who had spent so many weeks by your and Galadriel's side.

And it scared you immensely. So much so that you weren't sure you could pretend to the light elf that you were haunted by the shadows of your past.

Galardiel once told you that to know true light, one must touch the darkness. But what do you do when that darkness becomes more attractive than light? What do you do to resist that magnetism? How do you enjoy the glow of pure light on your skin again when you still have spots of darkness on you in the shape of HIS fingerprints?

"Y/N." Another whisper, another brush of warm air against your cool skin, this time on your neck. Goosebumps rise up your spine, your hand shakes uncontrollably, trying to desperatly grasp something you can't see. "Let go. Just let go. I'm waiting here for you. With open arms, mime írima kal (my lovely light)."

The feathery touch of HIS lips against your earlobe sends a shiver through your body. Even though you are in complete darkness, you are perfectly aware that he is near, that his presence is right next to you.

Physically you could be miles away from each other but spiritually... spiritually he has made sure that he will haunt you every night.

"You miss me. You miss the feeling of power I gave you. The darkness you could hide in, when you were too tired of playing the hero no one appreciates as they should. Just as I miss your light. Your laugh. Your mind. Your lips. Your body..." His lips move with each sentence down your cheek and to your neck, leaving a gentle kiss as if he was appreciating your skin and paid tribute to it.

He was right. You missed this. Him. He was addictive. And like any addiction, you should cut yourself off before it goes too far... but hasn't it gone too far already?

"Do you think you can hide from me? That any elven friend of yours could disrupt my vision of you? That I would stop watching you at night in the darkness of your chambers, waiting for the moment when you finally realize that the cold you feel is caused by my lack of physical presence with you? Tell me, my beautiful, stubborn elf, when will you realize that the warmth you long for is found in my darkness and not in the light of your golden sunlight?"

You gasp as HE suddenly grabs you by the neck and uses his fingertips to force you to turn your head towards him. His mouth attacks yours with a huge force of possessiveness, anger, frustration, lust, as if he were going to conquer you by using only his soft lips and a silver-tongue trained over the centuries he spend on seducing others to his will.

And you promised yourself that you wouldn't be the next victim of his games and manipulation.

That's why you let him kiss you. Not because you enjoy it and miss the feeling of his lips on yours. You tangle your hands in his hair, shivering as you feel the cold metal of his spiked crown against the pads of your fingers.

You managed to let his guard down, letting his tongue tangle with yours in a familiar, passionate dance you used to indulge in when you knew him not as a Dark Lord but as a mere blacksmith. An electric jolt runs through you, stealing all the air from your lungs and making your mind cloud with lust—but not strong enough to make you completely forget about your plan.

Before he can realise it, you bite his lower lip and push him away from you. You summon all your power that he hasn't timed in your sleep and push him out of your unconscious mind. You can hear his loud growl of rage and the clang of his metal armour against the rocks as you fall into nothingness.

A loud thud echoes through the room you and Galadriel have rented as you fall from the small bed onto the wooden floor. You groan, propping yourself up on your elbows and cursing under your breath as you wake up from yet another dream HE has taken over.

"Another one? Which one is it this week? Third?" You sigh at the question from the elf sitting on the bed across the small tavern room. You nod reluctantly and stand up, dusting off the dust and dirt from the floor.

"I'm not counting. I lost count about a two months ago anyway." You mumble, ignoring the fact that these dreams started much earlier. You turn your back to her, hiding the blush that blooms on your cheeks as you remember how… naughty your dreams were.

Before you realized that your… night visions weren't just yours, you and he… were doing all sorts of things. Most of them weren't really things you could speak about out loud. And as much as you're ashamed of them, you have to admit they were the best nights of sleep you've had since… you found out the truth about him.

"I keep wondering how he creates this connection with you? It's a bridge that shouldn't be created without… the willingness of both sides."

“It’s Sauron.” You reply, making sure to pronounce his name with just the right amount of disgust in your voice. "He has powers that allow him to break the rules. You know that."

"Still… they shouldn't be that strong."

"Are you suggesting something, Galadriel? Do you think I would really seek him out willingly? He has deceived us. He has deceived you and me. He wants to destroy Middle-earth, do you think I would willingly seek contact with him for any other purpose than to finally kill him?"

Your accusatory tone comes out a little stronger than you intended. You wrap your arms around yourself and take a few calming breaths, trying to calm the anger boiling inside you.

"I trust you. If I trust anyone, it's you, Y/N. I'm not your enemy here." She responds calmly and walks over to you. She cups your cheeks in her hands and rests her forehead against yours.

"I am highly aware." You respond and place your hands on the sides of her neck. "I'm just... tired. That's all." You sigh and rest your chin on her shoulder, snuggling into her.

You hold each other like that until she gently pulls away from you. She grabs your hands and looks you in the eyes.

"We all are. War is coming. Darkness is descending upon more of our lands. But together we will prevail. Sun and moon. We must work together if we are about to defeat him and Morgoth." Galadriel spoke, tightening her grip on your hands.

"I know." You mumble and shake your head. You remove your hands from her grip and turn to face the window, watching the sun slowly rise. “Which doesn’t mean he won’t see it coming. Because he will. We have to move faster, think five step ahead than he does if we want the light to break through his army of darkness.” You say not turning to face her since you're too afraid of what she'll find in your eyes. Galadriel sighs but doesn't try to catch your attention anymore.

"I guess we won't get any more sleep tonight. Get ready. I'll go find Erlond." She looks at you a little longer, her gaze burning on your back, but you stubbornly stare out at the valleys lit by the glow of the sun breaking through the morning mist, not yet feeling ready to face what is outside.

You breathe a sigh of relief as the door closes behind her. You turn one of the rings forged by HIM, which you have placed on your necklace, in your hands, quietly wondering if you should really do what you were about to do. But since he's decided to play dirty against you for weeks... you might as well start returning his little blows, too.

You close your eyes and place the ring on your finger. You hold your breath as the familiar surge of power makes your blood pump a little harder and your eyes sharpen to your surroundings. The outlines of the valleys in the distance become much clearer, and you can almost smell the forest that lies miles away.

You know he can sense where you are if you let him. So you take a little risk and remove the protective shield that keeps you away from him. And Sauron bursts through your slightly ajar door as if into a rabbit hole.

"If you're out there somewhere… if you can hear me… know that you've given me enough darkness to rip your black heart from your chest without blinking, mime melin cotumo."

Maybe calling him your dear enemy wasn't the best thing to end your threat, but the only thing that could leave your lips when you addressed him were such nicknames. Never the names you knew him by. Especially the name under which he hid when you so naively gave him part of your heart.

"Are you, Y/N?"

His whispered question echoes through the empty room. You immediately throw him out and slam the door on his ghostly presence, blocking his vision of you again. You want to celebrate this small victory over him, showing him that you are still in control, but you both know it's just an illusion. An illusion you're desperately trying to fall for. Unfortunately, you guess you're not as good at them as he is.

"I don't like him." You say to Galadriel, eyeing Annatar carefully.

You held little Celebrían in your arms and watched as Celeborn, Celebrimbor, and Annatar chatted in the distance, enjoying the party Celebrimbor had thrown for your arrival.

"He is… quiet around us. But that doesn't mean we have to be hostile towards him right away. We can't be overly suspicious." Galadriel says and takes her daughter from you, who begins to cry quietly. You sigh, looking at the child in her arms.

"In these times we can be as suspicious as we want, Galadriel. Middle-earth is even more divided; we elves do not have such a solid, strong united front. If Sauron decides to attack with his orcs, they will crush us one by one. We must act, not be stuck in pointless parties."

"Parties are also part of diplomacy. I'm off to melt the hearts of the ladies of other lands with this sweet little bundle. Try not to spit venom at others. We need allies, as you well noticed." And with that, she leaves you to drown your bitter thoughts in a glass of wine completely alone.

You snort, not paying attention to what's going on around you. The ring that hangs around your neck under your clothes burns your skin mercilessly as you try with all your might to push away the memories of the nap you took after arriving.

Warm, black furs clung to you as you slept soundly in your soft bed. In the background, you could hear the crackling of the fire burning in the fireplace. You were tucked into warm pillows and blankets, the tip of your nose exposed to the cool air outside, being the only thing that was bothering you from resting in your bed.

After a while it turned out that it wasn't just one thing that was supposed to bother you.

You gasp as a strong arm suddenly wraps around your waist. The blankets are lifted, and the cool air assaults your skin, sending goosebumps up your spine. A moment later, you feel yourself pressed against someone's bare, muscular chest.

"Is my queen comfortable enough?" He whispers teasingly in your ear and nuzzles your temple, tightening his grip on you as you try to squirm out of his arms. But he doesn't give you that chance.

He grabs both of your wrists and presses them to your chest as he straddles you. Black fur clings to his back, the only covering he's wearing.

"Do you intend to defile me in your dreams when in reality you cannot lay even the smallest fingertip upon me? You grow more pathetic with the passing centuries." You growl at him angrily, kicking beneath him and trying to break free from his grip.

"You will beg for my touch. I will make your cries heard throughout all the Middle-Earth." He murmurs a promise against your lips and leans down, capturing your lips in an aggressive, passionate kiss that sets every fiber of your being on fire.

The surroundings around you change rapidly. Suddenly, you are completely alone in a black and gold throne room. The only source of light is the rays reflected off a golden throne engraved with a sun.

You glance around frantically, searching for him and a weapon you could use against him. You take a few steps back, heading unconsciously toward the two thrones on the dais. You gasp as your foot touches the tiled mechanism beneath you.

The throne room begins to change, darkness giving way to light, the black marble turning white. But the entire chamber, instead of being divided in half by two colours, blends into grey. The golden throne turns white, and the black as night one becomes a lighter shade of black, almost greige. You turn your face to the landscape outside the window and gasp at what you see.

All of Middle-earth. Divided, but still... a coherent whole. Each of the lands was arranged so as to separate races that got in each other's way, where conflict could arise. The lands of the Orcs were in a barren wasteland, where life could not have arisen anyway, but they made their kingdom on it. All separated from each other by walls of mountains so high that even from the height where the palace was located, it was difficult to see the top of their mountains and the paths of the passes.

You shiver as the heavy, cool metal of the crown settles against your temples. He quickly grabs your shoulders and digs his fingers into you. He holds you against him, forcing you to stare at the land before you, a land you barely recognise anymore.

"We could have that. All of that. I would place a crown on your head, make them all bow to you. Make them bow to us. I would heal Middle-earth of strife and war, make them all live in harmony in their own worlds."

"Would you confine them within the boundaries of their lands? What if they run out of space? Would you move mountains? Would you remake the world? You won't fix them this way; you can't avoid wars and bloodshed. Who do you think you are to decide how the world is suspposed to look like?" You ask him angrily, turning in his arms.

You bravely hold Halbrand’s watchful gaze as he analyses your words carefully, probably thinking of ways to make you join his side, ways to make you see his case in a completely different light.

And you hope you'll have the self-control to reject every single one of them - every little tempting suggestion of the future he wants to show you.

"Amil! (Mommy!)" The joyful cry of a child and the dull thud of tiny feet hitting the floor later are the only warning you get before something small pounces on your legs.

You stubbornly don't look down, but into the eyes of the man in front of you, because you know that once your eyes land on the little projection of a child he wants to show you, you'll be haunted for the rest of your life by the image of what you could have had with him.

“You won't even look at our son, Y/N?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you, daring you to show him how much you don’t care or care about the future he has to offer you.

So you gather all the strength you have inside you and lean down to take the little boy into your arms. He mumbles something, playing with the necklace around your neck.

The boy has his dark hair. And your eyes. And he's too damn cute for you to ever forget the vision he shows you, that he created to torture you forever.

"How long would it take you to instill your dark, poisonous thoughts in him?" You ask with a trembling voice, giving him a look full of pain and dismay.

"I've told you many times, mime melin hon. With you by my side I would have no darkness within me." He mumbles and reaches up to stroke your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I will make you mine. Even if it was the last thing I would do. With or without your consent, I will bind you to me and make you who you were always meant to be: My queen."

You shiver as he places a tender kiss on your forehead. You hold back a broken sob as the weight of the baby on your hip begins to fade and his touch becomes just a hazy memory as you wake from this beautiful and terrifying dream.

“Can you do me the great honour of dancing with you, my lady?” You shiver when you suddenly hear someone's voice next to you. You turn around and barely keep a grimace from forming on your face when the platinum hair of the hated elf catches your eye.

"Lord Annatar. I thought you weren't dancing tonight?" You say in a forced, pleasant tone of voice and nod towards the elf whose invitation to dance he declined. He becomes embarrassed at this and clears his throat awkwardly.

"I simply have been saving my first dance in the hope that my lady of the sun would consent to grace me with it." You present him with your practiced smile, internally cursing him for being so thoughtful with his choice of words. Refusing him would be like spitting in his face - something Galadriel would clearly disapprove of.

"How could I be so cruel in this situation and refuse you, Lord of Gifts?" You tease him flirtatiously, seeing an opportunity in his obvious little affection, and offer him your hand.

You tremble as an electric shiver suddenly runs through you. The strange reaction to his closeness makes your brain buzz with thoughts. Especially when the ring hidden under the material of your dress begins to heat up.

"I may be… but right now I feel like I've received the greatest gift from you, my lady." He says, placing a soft kiss on the top of your hand. He confidently leads you onto the dance floor and pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your waist and being a little too close than was required for this particular dance.

His closeness overwhelms you. Not in a positive way. He seems suspiciously too familiar. Your body doesn't react to him as to a stranger; on the contrary, you immerse yourself in his touch as if it were familiar, comforting. You sense that something is wrong, but you can't say what yet.

"Do you like the rings we've been forging lately? Galadriel probably won't be too keen on his... idea."

"Because he follows in Sauron's footsteps. Perhaps we can dissuade him from this path. Together." You see his jaw tense slightly at your words. His grip on you tightens a little and he seems... flustered.

You narrow your eyes at him slightly, trying to understand his reaction, as well as why with every little touch he makes the ring on your chest burns like it's on fire.

"I truly believe we would be a great unit, úrin-o i world." You tremble when he calls you the sun of the world just as you tremble when he places his hands on your hips and lifts you.

He's in no hurry to put you down. It's as if he was deliberately prolonging this moment, and you let yourself be caught in the hypnotized state that his eyes bring you to.

For a moment, nothing exists except the two of you. It's just you and him. The dancing couples swirling around you momentarily become a blur.

You gasp when, for a moment, instead of Annatar's face, you see Halbrand. His mesmerising blue eyes pierce through you, making it all you can do to lean closer to him.

Your vision ends the moment one of the couples crashes into you. You land awkwardly on Annatar's chest, only his arms keeping you from falling. The couple apologizes and he just nods, pulling the two of you to the sidelines to a more secluded place.

You sigh, staring at him, your breathing heavy, not from the exertion of the dance, but from what you saw when you danced with him. Or rather, who.

"What are you?" You ask suspiciously, but he raises a surprised eyebrow at you, as if your sudden hostility was unfounded.

"You know who I am. Don't you, my Lady of the Sun?" You swallow hard at his question, but before you can answer him, Galadriel steps between you and him. A very angry and irritated Galadriel.

"He is of an unsound mind. How can he ignore what is so obvious? No one who follows the path that Sauron trod can call himself anything but his ally. I am leaving first thing in the morning. We cannot waste time while he is somewhere nearby, preparing an army against us."

"Perhaps you are giving him too much thought, my lady?" Annatar makes a sarcastic remark, but Galadriel ignores him and walks furiously away from the two of you, not even waiting for her husband, who has just reached the three of you.

"Galadriel..." You call out to her but she ignores you. "Galadriel!" Celeborn nods apologetically and follows the elf with the child in his arms. You stand in shock in the middle of the room and stare at the leaving elves.

"I don't blame them. You know what they're talking about... and about who they're talking." Annatar says, nodding at Celebrimbor. He stands alone in the corner, looking around nervously. "It would be best if you followed your lady." He advises you like a nasty snake that coils around your leg and whispers unwanted things in your ear.

You flinch and turn so you can fully look at him. He liked to play games. So he'll get one from you. You won't leave this palace without a promise from Celebrimbor to join you in case... if HE tries to attack.

Galadriel wanted to resort to desperate measures—she wanted to warn Adar that Sauron lived and wanted to use orcs in his plan to change Middle-earth. If you were to choose allies, you would rather heal the mind of an elf in whom you saw even a shred of light.

"I am my own lady. I do not have to follow anyone. Besides, I think you could use some help here, dear Annatar." You reply with a sweet smile. You see his jaw tense a little at your words. He clearly didn't want you around - that's why you had to stay here and see what the Lord of Gifts - the supposed envoy of the Valar was really doing in Eregion.

"Hm... that would be an honour to have you as our guest, my lady."

He says, smiling mysteriously at you. A shiver runs down your spine, and you already know that this won't be as much fun for you as it will be for him.

As if on cue, you drift off into blissful, dark unconsciousness.

"Fighting by your side… I felt like I could hold onto that feeling. Bind it in my very being."

"I felt it to." You mumble, staring at Halbrand's slightly bruised and scratched face.

You often had dreams like that. Flashbacks of past events. Sometimes they were real, and sometimes he was just playing with you in dreamland again, reenacting past events and laughing in your face, mocking you as you relived the same thing.

So I guess nothing has changed… if, knowing who I am, you still kiss me with such burning passion, my sunshine.

Cheap line. You managed to punch him for it many times. But that only seems to make him more cocky. So you stopped and instead looked for some way to get out of these dreams.

But now, as he leaned down and kissed you as sweetly as he had before... you could do nothing but moan and grab his hair in your fist as you pressed yourself against him, hating every bit of armour that covered your bodies and was separating you from him.

"The Valar must have spent aeons crafting those raspberry-sweet lips." He mumbles against your lips and cups your cheek in his hand. He pushes you back gently, your back pressing against the tree trunk you were sitting on.

You pretend you didn't notice that that little comment never came out of his mouth back then, and you take advantage of his moment of distraction. You take out your dagger and press it to his neck, pushing him away from you.

He needs a moment to process what happened. He chuckles raggedly and shakes his head slightly—just enough so that your blade doesn't even scratch his skin.

"What gave me away?"

"Sweet lips?" You mock him, pinning him against the rough tree trunk.

"I tried to be romantic with you, my beloved nemesis. Almost the same as that Lord of Gifts of yours, wasn't it?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. The cocky smirk doesn't leave his face even as you straddle him with the blade at his neck. You want to pierce all of his arteries, but his comment about Annatara catches your attention more than the murderous urge he's inspired in you.

"Jealous?"

"Intrigued. Do you like him?" He corrects you and asks a question that makes you want to laugh. As if there was anyone else besides him who could hold your attention for longer…

"Are you afraid that it will take your place as the worst, most venomous snake I have ever encountered?"

"Oh please… we both know that's not the only thing I'm best at. I remember one night perfectly, when…" You press the metal of the blade to his neck and draw blood from him. A black stream runs down his skin, soaking into the tree trunk, which instantly rots. "I understand. You want to be the one to dominate today?"

You snort in frustration at him and push yourself away from him. You take a few steps away from him and watch him closely as he slowly stands up and catches up with you.

"Only if you let me plunge my blade into your black, cold heart."

"Only if you acknowledge the fact that it beats only for you." He whispers and gently cups your cheek with his hand. You tremble, unable to move away from him or make any movement except to stare at him. Anger and something else—a feeling you're terrified to admit to—boil inside you like crazy. And that's all because of him.

"As if you could love anyone but yourself." You answer shakily as he leans toward you. He kisses you again, more gently, more tenderly.

He lifts your chin with two fingers, demanding full access to your mouth, as if the way he kisses you is to prove to you that he is capable of love—that he is capable of giving himself over to a mad passion that he cannot control, as if you were truly his lady.

And it is out of fear that he will manage to squeeze out of you that little challenge that he so desires that you reach for the dagger you had abandoned earlier and brutally plunge it into your heart, bypassing the plates of your armor.

You gasp, tearing yourself out of the dream he has entangled you in, but only to find yourself in a real nightmare.

You look around in panic as you see only orcs above you. The dead body of a dark elf is being torn apart by them, as if they were performing some kind of ritual over the dead. They are talking to each other in the black language, clearly too distracted to pay much attention to you.

You reach out for their abandoned weapon beside you, but you can't move much. You groan as a foot steps on your wrist, hard enough to pin your hand in place but gentle enough not to break or crush your bone.

You lift your head and bite your lip, drawing blood when you see who is standing over you.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, my sweet nemesis." Annatar says and nods to the two orcs closest to you. They walk over and hold you by the arms, lifting you to your feet.

"Sauron." You snap at him furiously, putting as much venom and hatred as you can into saying his real name.

"Hello, darling. Many years, centuries even, but it still seems like one day, right?" He mockingly responds to your seething fury. You watch him closely and freeze when you see that he holds not only his crown in his hand but Galadriel's ring as well.

He had two of the three forged for the elves. The last one... hung around your neck. And he could have taken it anytime he wanted. But he would have to pry it off your dead body if he really wanted it.

"You were more handsome as a brunette." You spit insults at him, trying to stay as calm as you can as he begins to walk forward. The orcs lead you right next to him.

"I can transform back into Halbrand just for you. Would you prefer that, my lady?" You press your lips together in a thin line, about to answer him, but he's already using his powers, and before you can do anything, Halbrand appears before your eyes.

You turn your gaze away from him and try to focus on the burning desire to draw some blood that the orcs' touch on you inspires as they lead you toward what looks like a camp.

"I'd rather have you rotted in Mordor."

"Ahh… such ugly words on such a joyous day? After all, you don't get married every day, do you?" He asks casually, too excited for your liking; if the orcs weren't forcing you towards the large tent, you would have stopped dead in your tracks and stared at the back of his head in complete shock.

"Married?" You repeat his words stupidly. The orcs hand you to him after you enter the large tent and quickly flee at their lord's beck and call. Halbrand... Sauron sets his crown down at the foot of the makeshift bed and turns to regard you, a huge, cocky grin on his face that you once found sexy. In the current situation, it only irritated you more.

"I promised you I would make you a queen. My queen. I have a crown, an army, and land. The only thing that is missing is you by my side—exactly as the Valar planned." He’s been explaining this to you for the umpteenth time, as if you were a carefree child to whom he had to explain something in a simple, banal way. You clench your fists and take one deep, calming breath.

"I'd rather die."

"No, you don't. Don't blaspheme like that. We both know that's what you want. I'm only doing you a favour by taking away your free will, giving you the illusion that I'm forcing you to do this against your will, so you don't have to feel guilty about acting on your heart's desires." He answers confidently, stubbornly, in a tone you knew—a tone he had used a thousand times when negotiating with kings, queens, and nobles.

Back then, when you thought he was just a man, you were charmed by his chearism, his self-confidence, and his unwavering actions. Now you saw how dangerous that was.

"You don't know my heart's desires." You whisper as he stops in front of you. But he doesn't move to touch you, does nothing but stand there and watch you.

You want to curse him for turning back into Halbrand and for showing you this illusion. It was much easier for you to reject Annatar than him... ironic, since it was Halbrand that betrayed you more than any other being.

"Another lie. I think you've gotten a lot better at it than I have in my absence, my dear sunshine."

You snort when he calls you that. The moment you open your mouth to answer, he leans in and steals your kiss and your breath. He pulls you to him by the material of your dress and perfectly ignores any thumps in your chest you give him. You jerk against his grip, bite his lip, and do everything to pull away from him. But he doesn't let go. Not until you're gasping for air and your lips are swollen, your clothes and hair a mess just like all of you.

"You know... I am not surprised you lied to me all this time. I mean... living for so long can trick your mind. You probably don't know your true self anymore, do you? When was the last time someone called you by your true name? Not with insult or fear, but with affection, maybe even sympathy?"

"Why? Want to change that, I úrin -o mime coiv- (the sun of my life)?" He asks, slowly pulling away from you. You ignore your instincts to follow his touch and stand frozen in place as he walks over to his abandoned crown.

"Are you just going to rule them? In the hopes that they won't kill you again? That I won't convince them to do so?"

"Fear is a powerful ally. And something tells me you'd rather have me alive than dead." He answers calmly and places his crown on your head. You frown as the cool metal settles on your temple.

You let him play with you for a moment and treat you like a doll he can do anything to. You waited for the perfect moment to attack, to throw him off balance. You wouldn't give in to him without a fight. Not when you still had at least a shred of strength to resist the darkness calling out to you.

"Not as powerful ally as love." Your response makes him more thoughtful. He stares at you, contemplating the sight of you in his crown, as if trying to forever engrave the image in his mind… to bind it to his very being.

"Indeed. But you either have one of them." He nods and runs his fingertips over your exposed shoulder. You shiver as he grazes the metal of your necklace.

"And what did you want? From me?" You see him soften noticeably at your question. Something like affection… maybe even tenderness or love appears in his eyes as he moves his hand to your neck, cupping it gently.

"You know my heart's desire, Y/N. Just as I know yours." He mumbles your name barely audible and leans in closer to you. You shiver as his bearded cheek brushes against yours, his soft lips caressing your earlobe as he whispers: "I don't have to say it out loud for you to know it."

"No… you don't have to." You respond and cup his cheek in your hand. He freezes at the sudden display of affection from you and involuntarily buries his face in your palm, closing his eyes. You lean down and press a small kiss to his cheek. He sighs tiredly, as if he had travelled a truly polynomial distance, and allows himself to melt in your touch. "Because I'd rather cut your tongue out than listen to another lie from you."

Before he can react, you're already reaching for his dagger. You press it to his neck, but he shakes off your little seduction and pushes you away from him roughly. You fall with the yak onto the mattress behind you, the crown falling off your head with a clatter to the floor as you stare at him intently, both of you aiming your blades at each other.

"In some races dagger is considered as one of the love's language." She mocks you, wiping the black blood off his neck with her free hand. He licks it off—a demonstration at which you hold your breath for a moment. Bloody bastard.

"I always preferred to consider it death's language." You respond and lunge at him again. He blocks your blade with his own and grabs your arm. You hiss at the hard, painful swipe of his fingers against your skin as he leans toward you, giving you one of his long, enigmatic, dark stares.

"You know what the difference is between me and them, Y/N? They fear you, what you can do, the power you wield with such grace, like it's nothing. But I'm willing to burn in the light of your sun if it means having you by my side."

"Rather, if it means gaining that power for yourself." You growl and kick him. He falls on his back in surprise at your strength, which you take advantage of and run forward—straight to the exit of the tent.

You run through the camp and quickly take the ring from your neck. You put it on your finger and, using the power it gives you, cast illusions on yourself, becoming invisible to the orcs. You hear Halb... Sauron's shouts behind you, ordering the orcs to find you and bring you alive to him. He himself gives chase through the forest. And you have to admit that he is not so far from you.

You run as long as your legs give you strength. You stop in some clearing with a small stream. You try to find a safe hiding place, hide, and wait out the mad pursuit. And just when you think you've made it, he emerges from behind the trees.

"Y/N! I know you are here! I can feel you! I will always..." He pauses, his voice shaking, and you realise this is the second time you've seen him so... vulnerable and open. It's a dangerous reaction from him. Either it's real... or he's using it as a card in his game to win yet another game he's playing with you. "I would make you a queen. In a heartbeat. You don't have to do anything. Just come with me."

And you really wish it were that simple. But you don't know if you could look at yourself in the mirror if you just so blatantly betrayed them and everything you know for… him and his lies. As beautiful and tempting as they were.

"Queen of slaves like you!" You scream, comming out from your hidding place and attack him.

"Yes! I am a slave! I am a slave to you, Y/N. At least I have the courage to admit it to myself and to you. And you, my queen?" He says each sentence every time your blades strike each other with a metallic clang.

"Don't forget about Mogoth, my king." You mock him and hit him more and more aggressively, each of your blows a precise attack on him.

"You're going to bind to me. Willingly or not, and I will relish every moment of it." He growls and finally knocks the blade out of your hand, and he grabs your wrists, twisting your arms behind you and pressing your back against his chest, the blade at your neck gently teasing your skin, as do his lips against your temple. "Let go. Just let go. I know you are tired. Let me help you. Let me carry for you all your worries and the hatred of the Middle-earth. Let me make you my queen. Heal this world with me."

"Only if you will made ma a crown from your skin and bones." You gasp, fighting his grip, trying to twist from the iron grip his arms have on you, but it's not as easy as it might seem. He pins you to the ground, straddling you, and stares at you, breathing heavily.

"I will wrap you in them, if that's what I need to keep you at my side!"

His cry echoes through the empty clearing. For a moment, you stare at each other, not making a move. The sound of the stream around you is the only other song playing in accompaniment to your heavy heartbeat, which you can hear in the deafening emptiness that surrounds you. The world stops. Again, when you're close to him.

"I did not desire power as much as I desire you. You hurt me more than Morgoth ever did; you poison me more than the darkness. I think of you every morning, afternoon, and night. You are like a poison that I cannot draw from myself. You are the light that blinds me, that destroys me, but I cling to it like a child in the dark. Even though the darkness has been a much longer and more loyal companion to me than you." He mumbles, pressing wild kisses to your face.

You moan as his lips and rough beard abuse your neck worse than the blade he had brought to you moments ago, which he had driven into the ground beside you. You had nothing. No weapon to attack him with, to protect yourself from his sweet lips and the burning touch that stirred desires so shameful and so familiar in you.

"A pathological liar." You gasp as he hastily undoes your dress. But you do nothing to stop him. You can't anymore.

You feel exhausted, both mentally and physically, all the running away from him, all the fighting with him. Maybe you really were a lost cause; maybe you were always meant to blend with his darkness and try to balance it with your light. You don't know that. What you do know is that he feels too good against you for you to fight him any longer.

"Both of us. But I'm the only one here who doesn't deceive myself."

"I'd rather deceive myself than allow myself to think that I could desire someone like you." And it's awful that as you say that, you reach for him and help to undress him.

You were only proving that you really were a terrible liar and hypocrite. But how long could you hold back from touching the darkness that called out to you so sweetly?

"We both know this is much more than simple lust." He whispers, stroking your hair tenderly and pressing his lips to your forehead. His hands roam your exposed body, caressing every little part of you. And if you concentrate hard enough, you can forget for a moment who he really is—you can only see Halbrand and not HIM. "Tell me… what's it like to want to simultaneously pierce me with a sword, burn me at the stake, and cherish me in the privacy of your chambers, my dear sun?"

"Maddening." You whisper shakily, admitting what you feel.

A single tear rolls down your cheek—a tear that he quickly licks from you. He groans at the sweet-salty feeling of your tears and holds you tightly with his one arm as the other slowly begins to toy with your most sensitive place, preparing you for complete failure and defeat.

All you can feel is blissful pleasure as the darkness is touching you.

And just when he is about to bring you great pleasure, when he is about to unite the two of you as one after so long, he stops completely. You fidget, toss, and turn, seeking renewed contact with him that he does not grant you.

"I'll come for you. In one form or another. I'll make you my queen, whether you want me to or not. I may be a fraud, Y/N, but I don't have the strength to deceive myself. You'll understand when you will be my age. And I'll wait for that. I will wait for you to realise that I am the only one who sees you, accepts you, and adores you as you truly are. All you have to do is call for me." You almost cry in frustration as he pulls away from you, leaving only a ghostly touch on your skin as he continues to hold your wrists. "The sun is also having an eclipse, Y/N. I am your eclipse. And you will beg me to give you my darkness."

He places one last kiss on your forehead and then disappears. You sigh, looking around you, and realise with a shiver that he was never really there.

He tricked you. He connected with you through the ring you still wore on your finger and entered your mind as another illusion. You cry, your hand shakily pressed to your mouth as you try to keep from making any sound for fear that he and the orcs might still be nearby and sense you.

You bite your fingers as a pitiful cry wants to escape your lips; it starts as your mouth forms a cry of his name, but at the last moment you stop yourself. You grit your teeth and stand up from the ground. You dust off your dress and look around you.

The rising sun illuminates your face, but you no longer feel the familiar warmth spreading throughout your body as you greet the morning light. You feel emptyness. A festering, burning emptiness. And the visible touch of HIS lips on your neck...

Sauron may have defeated you in your dreams and mind, but when it came to duels, when you faced each other in your own skin and bones, he lost. In the crucial moments, when he was about to make you his, you managed to slip away from him. You only fear how long you will be able to do so.

Especially since he has robbed you of all joy in the light and awakened a lust for the darkness you have touched with him...

And as you stared at the rising sun, you already knew that there would be no salvation for you, nothing that would make you forget about the electric thrill you felt every time you embraced the darkness with him.

Halbrand, Sauron, Annatar, whatever form he took, you were drawn to him. And you could either die, try to fight it, or accept it and try to save the little bit of light that was left in both of you. You didn't believe that after all the darkness he'd poured into you, he wouldn't get an ounce of your light from you in exchange. And if that tormented him as much as his darkness tormented you... then you felt at least a little less pathetic for falling in love with the Dark Lord of the Rings.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Y’all ate this Hotch x BAU!reader imagine up 👀 Who am I to deny you more when asked so nicely? 🖤

Things remain strictly professional while the case is ongoing, your team and the Seattle division’s sole focus on catching the unsub. But once your resident bad guy gets his one way ticket to a life sentence, Aaron’s former colleague insists on celebrating over drinks…

“I can’t believe you completed the triathlon!” Agent Brandt exclaims with a laugh, her hand coming to rest on Aaron’s arm. From her spot in the booth opposite to you, JJ nudges your leg under the table. Your gaze cuts to hers, and you resist the urge to mime gagging yourself on your straw. Instead, you use it to suck up the last of your second mojito. There are a few appreciative titters around the table and Brandt soldiers on, “Who would’ve thought our nerdy prosecutor turned agent would do something so athletic?”

“Make no mistake, the nerd is still hiding underneath these muscles,” you chime in with a coy smile, the mix of jealousy and rum swimming in your veins giving you the push to overtly squeeze your husband’s bicep for good measure.

Aaron pointedly clears his throat and directs a frown towards Emily whose cellphone camera has made an appearance just over the lip of the table to no doubt document the scene unfolding for Penelope’s benefit. “All the credit goes to my partner here,” he says rather smoothly before draping his arm across your shoulders.

“Oh wow,” Brandt says through a tight-lipped smile, “you did it, too?”

“Sure did,” you respond cheerily while using your straw to swirl the mint leaves around the bottom of your empty glass. Aaron can hear the mischief building in your tone and he pinches your side half-heartedly in warning, but you quietly smack his hand away and continue, “Gotta stay in shape to fight off all the soccer moms vying for this guy’s attention at Jack’s games.” You allow yourself to relish in the flash of recognition in Brandt’s eyes before she slowly retracts her hand from your husband’s arm.

“Goodness,” she laughs and has the grace to blush at her earlier conduct. You feel a twinge of guilt until Aaron’s former colleague looks at him and says, “I didn’t realize you had a girlfriend.”

Derek covers up his laugh with a cough, and Emily mouths a delighted uh oh. Aaron turns to you with a silent plea in his eyes to let the comment go, but your lips are already twisting into a, “Me neither, babe.”

“She’s just teasing,” your husband is quick to soothe all parties’ ruffled feathers as his colleague’s blush grows a shade darker and she studiously avoids making eye contact with you. “We’ve been married for a few years now.”

“And what a wonderful few years it’s been seeing the two of you grow together,” the eldest member of your team adds with a sense of finality. You flash a grateful smile at Dave, and the conversation takes on a more lighthearted tone over the next and final round of drinks.

—————

On the jet back home the next day…

Your novel tumbling out of your hands and onto the floor of the jet has you jolting awake, and Aaron shoots upright in his seat across from you. A quick glance around reveals the rest of the team suspiciously engrossed in their respective activities- Derek’s listening to his post-case playlist, Spencer’s reading yet another book that’s above your pay grade, Emily and Dave are sharing sections of the New York Times, and JJ’s on her phone, likely texting Will- but the fact that no one so much as bats an eye at the startling noise tells you everything you need to know. It doesn’t take a profiler to understand why you and your husband just can’t seem to stay awake on the early morning flight.

In answer to their unspoken question, you offer, “Didn’t sleep well last night,” by way of an explanation, fighting the blush threatening to creep across your guilty cheeks.

With a click of his teeth, Derek laughs out, “My man,�� and Emily pipes up, “We’ll chalk it up to a hangover.”

“Behave, all of you,” Aaron counsels in an utterly non-threatening monotone, his voice still thick with sleep. He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes to scold them, just crosses his hands over his chest and settles back in his seat to get some much needed rest. The corner of his mouth ticks upward for the briefest of moments before his features fall back into their emotionless state.

You tap his ankle with your foot and one eye cracks open to find you smirking at him. “I saw that.”

“Get some sleep, Agent Y/L/N,” he orders in lieu of addressing being caught.

Tugging Aaron’s suit jacket higher up on your body, you dutifully close your eyes and hunker down under your makeshift blanket. Already drifting back off to sleep, you murmur, “That’s Agent Hotchner to you, mister.”

Aaron’s answering smile could rival the sun itself.

—————

[A/N: Idk if I like this 🙃 But then again, I go through these mental gymnastics every time I post my writing on here]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

[wingzie]

Speaking to the media as a UK Army

Earlier in the week I mentioned in a local group chat that the UK’s attitude towards BTS and KPOP overall had changed. It felt like everyone was excited during Dynamite and then interest was quickly lost. Things got worse after the Festa Dinner. Because of previous experiences with a certain boy group, it was reported that the members would never return. These stories were soon edited, but it was obvious that there was a certain bias against the members now. The previous hype posts for them and their new releases were less present. Instead, we have gone back to having to do everything ourselves during chapter 2. 

As I am sure many of you are aware, it has already been a tough week for UK Army. We found out that MUSE had inclusions, making it harder to chart. We got backlash from solos for something that wasn’t our fault and the emails we sent were ignored or received weird responses. We are a resilient bunch though and we continued to promote and gain more funds. I figured that things for us couldn’t get any worse. I was wrong. On Sunday I was sent an article from the BBC by a friend. They asked my thoughts on it and I quickly understood why. Something else worried me though. I recognized the journalist. He is someone that we have history with. He kindly wrote about Persona and Wembley in 2019, but he also sneaked in a line that he thought that the members were miming through the concert. At the time, a few Army tried talking to him about it on Twitter and he was receptive to the feedback. I decided to try and do the same and to do it privately in the DM’s. Something which he told me himself that he appreciated. I spent a good amount of time drafting my message. I made sure that it was polite, but also included the reasons why a certain part of the article was troublesome. During this, a friend of mine also made a detailed thread correcting the misinformation. Once the message was sent, I went on with my day and waited to see if I would get a reply. Much to my surprise, I did indeed get a reply. I don’t have consent to share our messages, but we replied back and forth a few times and he said that he would look into changing the wording. I quoted my friend's thread, explaining that I messaged him privately and that he was working on it. As someone who posts about Jikook on a regular basis, you could say that I am used to getting unnecessary abuse. However, I was not fully prepared for the response to this. As more hours passed and there weren't any changes made, the more anger and hate I received. This greatly confused me, as I wasn’t the one who wrote the article itself. I just wanted to try and help and we had to be patient. 

A day later the edit was made. I messaged the journalist again to thank him and he responded back, explaining that the reason it took so long was because there was a debate internally about the best way to respond. I then shared on TL about the edit being made. It wasn’t the best edit, but that’s all we got. Unfortunately, the hate towards myself increased even more. Some said that the article was my fault, that I failed BTS or that I was an anti. Plus a few words that I daren’t repeat here. Some saw what was happening to me and sent kind support. These included people who I have never interacted with before and I will be forever thankful for that. I also spoke with some about the response of the general public towards the article. The article was heavily advertised so there were discussions in relation to Seventeen going to Glastonbury. This hasn’t been done before so some were curious and some were confused. It was interesting to see the reaction to it, even if it was poorly written. I was personally exhausted though.

This whole ordeal started on Sunday and I woke up on Tuesday still feeling a bit wary of receiving more hate. On top of this, I had gained around 300 more followers from all of this and didn’t know how they would react once I started posting Jikook. If I’m honest, I felt a bit uncomfortable with everything going on. What did shock me though, is that some of these new followers were going through my “pinned” post and liking the threads on Jikook. It made me a bit self-conscious, but I didn’t want it to overcome me and Jimin’s promotions though, so I came up with an idea. 

July is my Birthday month and to celebrate I am doing a giveaway for other UK Army. This gives them a chance to get any albums they currently do not own and to try and boost sales for Jimin at the same time. The UK fanbase don’t really want to be associated with me because of my account, so I decided to do everything myself. To help boost morale, positivity and the community spirit that Army has. Overall, I do not regret reaching out to the journalist. He was rather difficult to speak to, but an edit deserved to be made for the way in which it was written. I appreciate the discussion we had and those that supported me. My focus will continue to be on Chapter 2. Look after yourselves and each other. 

[sinvilles]

more thoughts: Clay and his alcoholism

to reiterate my first point from the last post:

I'm not concerned with whether any character in the series was "redeemed" or not. the show was cut in half, and so was every character arc. hence we end up with a show that got cancelled when all the main characters were at their lowest point of development in the narrative, and all the surrounding characters getting half developed to a point of mild satisfaction.

I don't think Clay is misunderstood in this fandom so much as misinterpreted. namely the overt focus on his abusive incidents and qualities drowns out any analysis about how and why they emerged in the first place. and the insistence on reading him through this over the top evil villain tunnel vision- Clay is an antagonist, in that his actions are in opposition to Orel's, but he's not a villain. I actually don't think there are designated villains in Moral Orel, just a lot of damaged, self destructive people who rationalize, deny and repress the harm they cause. humans, as Dino called them.

put succinctly, I think we often forget that Clay has a disease, that it is life-threatening, and no one around him is educated enough to see the warning signs- because drinking culture is so ingrained in their social circle that there's nothing to do but repress whatever harm it causes.

earlier on in the show, his drinking is less pronounced. This is not to say he didn't have a problem, because its clear from Help that his binging started early in their marriage. I do think there is a gradual descent beginning with him drinking the boozy milk in church, slowly until Bloberta calls him a "self-destructive alcoholic", and then a rapid plummet after he walks out on Christmas eve. This feels in line with a relapse.

I went back and forth on whether Clay had actually never touched a drop of booze before he met Bloberta- he lied about his father being dead, he must have been shitting her about "isnt drinking a sin?" because even he knows that his mother used to drink- and also the way he keeps on looks like someone who tried to stop before and that this is his relapse. but then he goes on about his "new found superpowers" and thanking Bloberta for helping him come out of his shell so it definitely seems like alcohol is providing him with a burst of sociability and extraversion that he otherwise didn't think he had in him before.

Clay genuinely believed that drinking was making him a better person. This is reinforced by what others say to him: by Bloberta saying "it makes us better people", or Danielle telling him, "you're better when you drink." The word "better" is used directly in his rant- he mimes the alcohol telling him: "I'll make things better, dear! drink me, put me inside you!" in the following dialogue, its very clear that he associates drinking with his relationship with Bloberta, and women in general. And also that the sex he has had with Bloberta might be less than consensual and not pleasurable for him. More on this later.

That's the rub of alcohol. You drink a little to feel good, and you do it until that amount doesn't do it for you anymore, and the tolerance builds up until you need to drink enough to black out, and being black out drunk is where your inhibitions completely disappear. Black out drunk means you might whip out your dick and piss on someone's computer- knew a guy who did it- does this mean you hate that person, or computers? no, just that your senses were no longer functioning to keep you from carrying out every insane impulse you have.

alcohol addiction isn't a moral failing, its a disease. Clay's true moral failing was that he wasn't responsible or mature enough to be left alone with his son in the wilderness. He wasn't a horrifyingly inept father in the past episodes, mostly just spanking Orel before asking him why he (impregnated women in their sleep/sold his piss for profit/did crack/stole his booze/etc). Then he imparts an entirely deranged moral because he feels like he needs to explain to Orel some justification for his punishment, which he might be doing to bond with him the way he used to bond with his mother.

Clay was not properly fathered (or mothered, for that matter), and is not equipped to be a good father. His version of fathering Orel is an attempt to undo the neglect of his boyhood- he is physically present in his life, "a boy needs his father" so he says, he converses with him- while he did spank him, he's never slapped him or battered him, which is interesting to note because Arthur only ever hit Clay in the face. The actual, major fuck up in his life happened when he was black out drunk.

Its notable that after the incident we get an episode of him reflecting on the death of his mother, and how he never got to go on that coveted hunting trip with his dad. the road to hell truly is paved with good intentions.

but he gets worse. He starts ditching work to drink. he ditches church to drink. he's calling up his situationship midday to drink. he has ditched the shot glass and is drinking his brown booze straight from the bottle now. this is ruining his friendships, his professional connections, even the barmaid hates him now. Because he can't reconcile his self-image with what he did to his child, his only narcissistic impulse is to deny it happened, lie about it, to himself, to the doctor, to everyone around him. Then when he can't deny it happened, he hides from his son out of shame, and avoids talking to him for 6 months, only speaking to him again when it becomes clear that his son has publicly sided against him. Right after that he emotionally regresses and becomes susceptible to the manipulations of a seemingly older woman. Clay is in the middle of a mental breakdown.

then the show gets cancelled.

of course they killed it. why would adult swim want to air a show where a character suffers from a realistic depiction of alcoholic dependency? one where a guy pisses his bed because he's too drunk to get up at night, one where a guy almost kills his child (not played for laughs)? the audience doesn't want to be told that they need to kick their habit. they'd prefer a mad scientist who can just grow himself a new liver any time he needs to replace it. Or a cartoon crow who gets into hi-LAR-ious out-RAG-eous hijinks because of his drinking. do you see what I'm saying?

I mean, what if Clay stopped drinking?

("Yeah, what if?")

there's this thing called withdrawal, where if your body is at the point where it is dependent on alcohol for stability, alcohol every day every hour, all year long- like Clay is- going cold turkey can actually end your life.

a caricatured depiction of withdrawal can be seen happening to Orel in the episode "Grounded"- he isn't just "going crazy", Church is an addiction that he needs to feed to feel normal. It's a very silly take on it, but the insatiable cravings, sweats, nausea, shakes, clamminess and the feelings of unmanageable suicidality are the same.

Other effects of alcoholic withdrawal include (not in order) seizures, hallucinations, acute anxiety, mood swings, tachycardia, and in worst cases delirium tremens. with the way Clay drinks he would definitely end up with pretty bad DTs.

And it goes on for at least 6 months.

when this happens, a person needs to be hospitalized. and knowing the medical staff at Martin Luther Hospital, I can understand why he would want to avoid it. I don't think he has the willpower to wait past shaky hands before he reaches for his next drink.

another part of overcoming an addiction to alcohol is community support- support from family, friends, spouses. this was described by Kabi Nagata in one of her memoirs as a kind of "foothold in the world" to keep the patient stable and focused. but as of the start of season 2, Bloberta doesn't care. Clay perceives Bloberta as not being on his side- if your own wife isn't on your side, what hope do you have needing her when you're vulnerable? fuck, even Clay isn't on his own side.

On Bloberta- I get the feeling she might have supported him to stop drinking earlier in their marriage. Or at least to get his drinking under control (as in, not publicly visible). Maybe before Shapey was born? but when he started again, she was through being "on his side" so to speak.

(and I do think his drinking has some correlation to his sex life. according to Bloberta, "when does he ever remember?" and based on what little Orel said in that one promo, Clay is never sober enough to be on top, like he so insists upon being the "right" way. in his rant Clay graphically describes PIV sex with open revulsion. call me crazy, but I kind of get the feeling he's gay.)

but the real reason I think he was triggered to drinking to excess, is Danielle.

its pretty clear from the get-go of season 2 is that Clay was carrying on an affair with him, at least an emotional one if not a physical one. and I can imagine that his attraction to Danielle unsettles him, to the point that he needs to reinforce his concept of masculinity with the markers of it; hiding in his little man cave and collecting hunting equipment- and drinking hard liquor to excess. Everything he accuses Orel of during the hunting trip- being sensitive, soft, a sissy- is just something he projects because he's insecure about it in himself. and the root of it is his fear of loving Danielle.

despite the humiliation he subjected himself to in Honor- him admitting that he loved Danielle was a brief moment of growth. albeit closeted, fearful, it was a revelation of what was really in him. closest comparable moment of honesty in the series was him admitting to Orel that his identity as a father is central to who he is, and without it he would be nothing. and then there's his academy award winning drunken rants.

where could his character have gone... I think leaving his family, aka Orel, aka forgoing his identity as a father, might be the best he could do. that and getting sober. but there's no getting sober without leaving his family, because he associates his wife with drinking. and there's no getting sober if you don't have a friend left in the world. it was sad to see him still with her in the final scene because they both really could've thrived in divorce.

[suzukiblu]

WIP Wednesday Game

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

a fake cryptid and a real romantic

mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees

YJ accidental baby acquisition

merfam drama

gentle princely caretaking 

snippet from "a fake cryptid and a real romantic":

Clark hears a sudden rush of air and a thrumming, not-quite-human heartbeat, and is therefore unsurprised when Superboy pops up over the side of the Metropolis rooftop he’s sitting on and grins up at him. The kid always seems to be in a good mood, but is clearly in an even better one than usual. 

“Guess what?!” Superboy greets gleefully, pushing himself up on the edge. 

“What?” Clark asks, smiling wryly at him. The kid just gets so enthusiastic so easily. It’s kind of funny, to be honest. 

“I got a date!” Superboy says delightedly, plopping into a seat beside him and kicking his legs excitedly as he does. “Robin said I could go hunting with him in Gotham this weekend!” 

“You’re going to hang out, you mean,” Clark corrects kindly, since Superboy still has a notably skewed education and concept of correct terminology and probably calling working with another vigilante a “date” without knowing what that actually means isn’t going to end well for the kid in the long run. Especially since Robin isn’t actually an aspect of Gotham like the Batman is and would definitely be confused by it. 

Admittedly, the Batman gets confused by some very straightforward things sometimes, but still. 

“‘Hang out’,” Superboy repeats, cocking his head with a slightly puzzled expression that almost immediately clears into another excited grin. “That, yeah! I caught Catwoman breaking into some fancy cat exhibit in Gotham and dropped her off for him, and he was into it! And I gave him a diamond and he liked that too!” 

“A . . . diamond?” Clark blinks. He really hopes Catwoman didn’t manage to be that bad of an influence on the kid in one meeting, but he wouldn’t put it past her. Superboy’s impressionable and Catwoman is . . . well, Catwoman. “Uh–where’d you get that?” 

“I made it!” Superboy says proudly, puffing himself up as he mimes the act of crushing something in his fists. 

. . . alright then, Clark thinks, mildly bewildered. He has no idea why Superboy would make a diamond, much less give it to Robin, but the kid gets weird ideas into his head sometimes and he supposes it would’ve been good practice for controlling his strength to very specific pressures, so he’s not going to say anything about it.

“Did you?” he says, figuring he should keep the conversation going. Superboy’s an odd kid, but he’s eager and has a good heart and always soaks up attention like a sponge, so Clark always tries to talk to the kid at least a little whenever the other finds him. 

“I figured Robin’d like it,” Superboy says reasonably, kicking his feet again. “Birds like shiny stuff, and he’s kinda a bird, right?” 

Clark is going to assume that Tim Drake more appreciated the expensive gemstone than the “shiny stuff”, assuming a teenage boy would even care about anything like that anyway, but he doesn’t want to rain on Superboy’s parade. Honestly, he’s just glad the kid’s finally trying to make a friend or two in the community who isn’t wearing an “S”. It never hurts to have a little backup on call–or to have a friend who understands the life around, either. 

He’s not actually certain what the Batman’s latest Robin’s policy on maintaining his secret identity among the larger hero community is–even Dick still typically presents himself as a city splinter, just of Bludhaven instead of Gotham now–but even if he keeps passing for a cryptid with Superboy for a little while longer, it’s not like Superboy’s had a normal life experience. He’s not going to be bothered that he can’t talk about girls and homework with his new friend first thing. 

Clark vaguely dreads the possibility of Superboy eventually deciding to come to him to talk about girls, because he has absolutely no idea how to talk to anyone about girls, much less an impressionable teenager who’s guaranteed to hang on his every word for the whole conversation and take everything he says as gospel while also misunderstanding at least half of it, judging by most of their previous conversations. He hasn’t even been able to figure out how to give the kid the Kryptonian version of the talk, though, much less if it’s actually applicable to him. Relationship issues and dating are a whole other kettle of fish. 

Well, with any luck Superboy will stay too young for that kind of thing for a little while longer, Clark hopes halfheartedly. Just–please?

[randommotogpstuff]

Pecco's wedding outfit ratings

Enea 8/10

he got 2 points added to his total just because i love those glasses. kinda on the safe side but with how everyone else was dressed it was probably a good idea. the design on his shirt is nice. tan suit at a summer wedding pretty fair

Celestino 3/10

easy little improvements such as proper sizing and wearing a jacket on top would've really fixed his ranking. i like the little hat he has it's cute.

Marco 0/10

one of your best friends is getting married don't show up looking like a mime that's running a gondolas down in venice. so awful but it doesn't even circle back to being good it just stay awful. not even going talk about the polka dots on the back of the vest. was going to give him one point because i don't mind the whole brown look but nope the more i look at it the more angry i get

Luca 7/10

i was expecting better from you. whoever gave any of this guys access to hair gel for this event should not have. grateful the shirt wasn't polka dot like i originally thought. could've worn a plastic garbage bag and i still would've given a 5

Franco 6/10

if the shirt had been tucked in i wouldn't have minded the outfit. appreciate that he wore a jacket and didn't shave off his hair. every pic i've seen of him i've been distracted by his girlfriend's dress so 1 bonus points for that

Andrea 5/10

Very much giving kentucky derby vibes. i think it's the hat that causing that. really don't hate it but don't really love it either. it's average. he almost lost a point cause it was hard to find a pic of him.

Valentino wedding look 9/10

i was as surprised as everyone that he was appropriately dressed for once no converses, no paisley print shirts. are we sure it was not a body double? lost a point for the hair. guessing they were all sharing a tub of hair gel because all of them went overboard with the hair gel.

Valentino reception look 7/10

like i really want to like this outfit i do but its very much giving my drunk uncle at our last family vacation vibes. why did he have to an outfit change? the side angle pic he has with the back of the outfit is doing some really hard work cause i found it very hot.

Uccio 9/10

don't judge me i know i have a problem in judgement when it comes to uccio. he was dressed in a semi properly fitted suit. the hair gel wasn't as bad as it was on some other. and every pic his wife has posted they looked they were having a blast. did lose 1 point cause i think he changed into a white t-shirt at the reception

[umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken]

A ballad of beasts Neslin (au)

Man or beast, I would love him with all my heart. Thorns and all.

SO, it's official! I'm going to start writing my fic 'A ballad of beasts' !!!

I want to thank everyone who reblogged/ replied to my initial post encouraging me! This fic only exists because of you amazing people!

I've got the plot pretty much figured out, so now I just have to hope that the writing gods don't abandon me while I write this 🙏🏼 Will be posting this to Ao3 as well as updating here!

(The first chapter is still nowhere near fully finished, but here's a little sneak peek!

p.s. I've changed a few minor things about the plot, which you will see below!)

{chapter one snippet}

“Tamlin! Little brother! Happy name day!”

Tamlin stiffened, his fingers tightening around his glass. Ignoring him hadn't worked, as his brother's voice continued to call out. He tossed it back, hissing at the burn. Gwaine’s arm swung roughly around his shoulder, nearly knocking him off of his feet. To any passers by, they would appear like two brothers having a friendly altercation.

“Gwaine,” he gritted out.

“Are you enjoying the festivities, dear brother?” 

“Not as well as you appear to be.”

His breath reeked of sour cherries and barley. Evidently, he’d already been sampling the wide variety of spiced drinks and spirits on offer at the banquet.

His eldest brother’s laugh sent a nauseating cloud of stench towards his nose.

“Oh, why so glum, little bum? You turn five hundred today, that’s almost a male grown!”

He did not deign to dignify that with an answer. Gwaine didn’t seem to mind,  already setting to fill the silence with his loud, brash tones.

“Finni! Come join us, you bastard!”

Tamlin swore under his breath. One brother was already a curse, a second was a damned plague.

“Tamlin.”

“Finnian,” Tamlin answered resignedly. 

“Finni! I was just telling Tamlin here that he ought not to be so glum! Not when father has such a wonderful surprise waiting!”

Tamlin glanced over sharply. “Father has a surprise?”

That was laughable in and of itself for a multitude of reasons. The High Lord of Spring was decidedly not notorious for his spontaneous name day surprises.

Finnian merely smirked.

“Oh, I won’t spoil it for you, it’s rather good,” Gwaine said, miming stitching his mouth shut.

Tamlin sighed, “Wonderful. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll-”

“Aht aht aht! Not so quick, little Tam,” he chastised, darting out an arm to keep him from skulking away.

“The fun has barely begun!”

 Gwaine spun him around just as the doors to the great hall blew open, and a fanfare proclaimed to Tamlin’s great dismay,

“General Amarantha Casimir of Hybern!”

“Father’s esteemed guest,” Gwaine said gleefully.

She entered the hall with a retinue of attendants; young girls dressed in robes white as a swan’s wing, each carrying a corner of her gown’s train. Thousands of bejewelled strings had been woven together in imitation of a spider’s web, and the fabric flowed down to the marble floors, the little gems hissing with each of her long strides. The low cut gown was underlaid with a diaphanous black silk, for what little it did to hide her sensuous figure. She ascended the dais, bowing to the High Lord and Lady of Spring. 

Tamlin turned away.

Finnian smirked, “I am sure tonight will be very… eventful.”

“Yes, most definitely a night to remember.”

Tamlin glared at his brothers, irritated, “What in Prythian are you two on about? What do you mean?”

“Well, you shall see soon enough,” Gwaine gave Tamlin’s chest two solid pats before sidling off with a cackle; as Tamlin predicted, towards the banquet table. Between the two of them, his brothers would empty the casks and barrels before the night was through.

He was about to walk away when Finnian leaned in close, murmuring in his ear.

“I wonder, brother. What would it be like to bed a female like that? Would you fuck her from behind? Or would she bend you over and mate you like her whore?” 

Tamlin recoiled. His reaction only made Finnian’s smirk widen and he continued in a low voice, his hand still firmly wrapped around Tamlin’s wrist.

“Doomed be the male who takes her to wife, don’t you agree? I wonder what our father was thinking. Certainly not of you.”

Tamlin pulled away more forcefully, and Finnian let him go, his eyes never once leaving the younger male’s face.

“What the hell are you-”

His brother’s words dawned on him then, and it felt as though his lungs had frozen in his chest, “What?” Breathing seemed impossible.

“Finnian, what do you mean?” his voice cracked with urgency. He took hold of his brother’s tunic and shook, not that it budged him at all.

“Finnian!”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” Finnian asked with mock concern. His rain-cloud eyes were sharp with cruel delight.

“You’re to marry the Hybernian bitch.”

The floor fell out from under him, and he barely registered his brother walking away.

No, no, no, Mother and Cauldron above, no.

When he finally dared to turn back to the dais, Amarantha was already staring at him. 

She raised her glass, filled to the brim with black wine, and smiled with a mouth of dripping fangs.

[toxinellebug]

Shadybug/ClawNoir supporting character Headcanons

Jagged Stone? More like Jared Smith. He wanted to be a rockin musician, but his type of music is banned by the Supreme so his career never took off. Instead, he ended up marrying his girlfriend, Nannette Couffaine, after accidentally knocking her up with twins, released his pet crocodile into the Seine, got an apartment, and works a regular job that he HATES. But, he secretly still tries to record music and sells it on the black market where it has become somewhat popular in the indie underground, but if he were caught he would go to prison for sure. It’s not a happy marriage but he does what he has to. His kids last names are hyphenated Couffaine-Smith.

No houseboat, and without Royalties from music labels, neither Juleka or Luka could afford to go to Francois Dupont

Penny works as an assistant for Bob Roth and HATES IT. The man is a sexist slave driver, but this business is brutal.

Nadja Chamack is not a news anchor. You can’t be a single mother AND have a career that takes up so much of your time. As a result, Marinette has never had to babysit Manon.

Lila wants to challenge Chloe’s position as queen of the school, but there are no lies about charity work, only lies of what powerful and famous connections she has.

Adrien is not interested in being friendly with Lila, and definitely not going to help her with schoolwork. But he is still the ultimate trophy and key to winning popularity in Lila’s eyes, so she is determined to “win him over”, even though he finds her almost as annoying as Chloe, but Chloe he is stuck with due to her mom’s working relationship with his dad.

Gabriel doesn’t trust Lila one bit.

The sad and negative emotions he is forced to sense due to the power of the Butterfly brooch cause him distress, and he often has to excuse himself due to “headaches” from overworking, as a creative’s work is never done… But he is always listening for the emotions of people crying out for justice, for help, for people who wish they had the power to help.

Andre Glacier is still the Sweetheart’s ice-cream maker, but Sweetheart’s ice-cream is just a special menu item that you can request. Otherwise he has a scheduled route and serves the ice-cream that customers ask for.

Alya’s dad wishes the zoo could focus more on animal enrichment and larger enclosures but they don’t have the budget for such “unnecessary extravagences”.

Mr. Haprel hopes to make it as a famous Mime one day so he can be rich enough to afford to send his daughter, Mylene, to the school he works at as a janitor.

Everyone avoids Ivan.

Thomas Astruc never made it as a famous director, rather, the Supreme favored his University Rival, Andre Bourgeois, who also owns the Le Grande Paris Hotel.

Gina and Roland Dupain are not divorced/separated per say… Gina was sent to prison for civil disobedience. That’s why Tom is a doormat and just goes along with whatever discipline Sabine decides on because he doesn’t want his precious little girl to end up a criminal like her grandmother.

Sabine does not teach an inkpainting class on the weekend or practice tai chi or feng shui.

The walls of Marinette’s home are not pink, they are a boring beige that she hates.

The Agreste Manor is not a sterile, black and white modern decor dungeon. It is a prism of color, function, form, beauty and nature with nods to antiquity and the whimsical. Adrien HATES it. All color and light left this world when his mother died. The art in his house mocks his pain.

There is no school blog for Nathaniel to post his art on… But Marc ended up in that class instead of Marinette. (So did Mireille) He’s still too shy to admit he’s a writer. And even more shy to admit he has a crush on Nathaniel, so all he can do is watch the boy quietly. Rose thinks it’s a romantic tragedy and wants to play matchmaker. Alex thinks it’d be a disaster waiting to happen.

There is no Prince Ali who gives toys to sick kids in hospitals.

There is nothing as frivolous as videogame tournaments, so Max devotes all his spare time to his hobby of robotics and developing an AI… but developing an artificial intelligence is frowned upon. Luckily, Alya can keep a secret… that is, if Max is willing to spare some of his time to helping her havkninto the dark web to research conspiracy theories.

Wayhem is obseesed with Adrien, who can’t stand crazy fanatics and won’t lose any sleep if the Gorilla tackles the scrawny boy to the ground.

After much convincing, bullsh**ing, and bribes, Gabriel is able to host his derby hat design competition at Francois Dupont, (and hopefully, modelling his classmate’s creations will be a bonding point for Adrien to make a new friend) Rose sees it as an opportunity to tries to get Marc and Nathaniel to work with her to create a hat, hoping sparks will fly between them.

Even if Marinette WANTED to enter a stupid contest involving that spoiled, stuck-up Agreste boy, which she DOESN’T, her mother won’t allow it because sewing and doodling outfits is a distraction from her schoolwork.

Chloe still cheats.

But Shadybug discreetly sabotages the fashion show the winning hat is supposed to feature in.

Nathalie never became Gabriel’s assistant or even acquaintance. Instead, she is in charge of the department of the Louvre that archives and locks away all “banned” art and artifacts (aka anything related to Miraculous holders)

Alex thinks she’s creepy and hates how she coldly bosses around her dad.

Audrey is the same as ever, with the exception that she recognizes that her younger daughter Zoe has some talent, and wants Andre to find a movie part for her to play, and ignores Chloe’s bitter jealousy which causes her to lash out at others even nastier than in Ladybug and Cat Noir’s universe.

Nino is treated rudely and ignored by Adrien. Adrien would never agree to play a role in Nino’s movie and even accuses Nino of trying to use Adrien’s celebrity status to give himself an unfair advantage in the student movie competition.

Adrien doesn’t have time for stupid group projects or after school activities. But not because he has a full schedule since this Universe’s Gabriel is a decent father who does not demand perfection and give a 14 year old a burdensome schedule… It’s because outside of fencing and modeling, Adrien plans to spend his time planning out which sections of the city he’s going to take his anger out on that night.

Gabriel never forgot his roots as the son of a fry-cook, and occasionally tries to cook comfort food (NOT PANCAKES) for Adrien, who insists he’s not hungry or that junk is bad for his skin/weight, which has Gavriel worried about Adrien developing body dysphoria and eating disorders… These worries are put to rest when he finds out Adrien has suddenly developed a sweet tooth for baked goods. Therefore he has no qualms about his son frequenting the local bakery so often because a growing boy needs to eat and a treat is good for the spirit.

He wishes he could be more honest with Adrien, but he knows that it would destroy his son if he ever found out that the sickness that took his mother’s life was caused by his creation… He’s also not sure what kind of trauma Adrien would have to the fact he’s not human.

Gabriel also doesn’t want Adrien in danger. Gabriel wants to create a better world for his son to live in, a world where he and everyone else can be free! Where people can throve without stepping over others, and the poor don’t have to suffer. Where people have rights to love freely and express opinions without fear. A world where people help one another.

Gabriel would never use the rings to control Adrien, instead, he keeps them locked away in a safe, and plans to give them to Adrien someday when he is an adult and less likrly to misplace them because if they were to fall into the wrong hands, Gabriel shudders to think of what would become of Adrien.

Audrey still has a low key crush on Gabriel which makes him cringe but he still acts polite to keep up working relations, and he also pities his friend Andre, trapped in a one-sided marriage and bullied by his daughter and his wife.

[hermionegalathynius]

Found Family (5/?)

I cannot tell you all how much your support of my writing means to me. I’m so sorry this took so long. If I’m being honest, the next part might take even longer (just because I’m busy with college exams and uni applications… the stress levels are REAL high right now) but I want you to know I love reading your comments and I smile every time someone reacts to my posts. Anyway, here we go!

Fandom: Now You See Me

Pairing: Daniel Atlas x Reader

Warnings: some swearing, read at your own discretion.

  “Can’t we all — just once — stay in the same place for more than a few weeks at a time?” you sighed, climbing in the back of the car with Merritt and Danny. 

  “I agree that that would be nice, but currently we have no control over where we go and when. Literally, considering we entered the tube in New York and were spat out in Macau,” Danny said, letting you rest your head on his shoulder tiredly. 

  “It’s all about blind spots,” Merritt’s brother said once the car began moving through the streets of Macau, “When you’re staring straight at something and not see it. Why? Blind spots! We learnt that together, didn’t we, bro?”

  Merritt grunted, staring blankly at the floor. You nudged his foot with yours gently, trying to comfort him. He flashed a small, grateful smile. 

  “Did he tell you that we were partners, once?” Chase continued, “No? I didn’t think so. The ‘Mini-McKinneys’.”

  “Cool,” Lula said flatly.

  “And then one day, we were 12, and Virginia von Welsheim had a very nice party down the street. I had a little tum-tum, couldn’t go. Mer-Bear did it on his own and got a taste of the solo thing, and uh… and kicked me to the curb.”

  “Oh god,” Danny muttered. You nudged him in the side for insensitivity. 

  Merritt sighed, “Chase, you win! I concede. Just tell me how you did it.”

  Chase grinned, “Delivery came to your door about a month ago… a little za?”

  “Za?” Danny asked.

  “Pizza,” Merritt told him, then addressing his brother, “Huh?”

  “Yeah, so what he did, my little womb-mate, is he downloaded all of your private information and my employer had all he needed.”

  You could feel Danny glaring at Merritt for accusing him of being the leak. You rolled your eyes at his ability to hold a grudge. 

  “Thanks,” Danny said to Merritt sarcastically, then turning to Chase, “How did you know how to find him?”

  “That’s a very good question, Atlas,” Chase said, miming locking his mouth closed and throwing away the key. 

  “Okay,” Danny said, frustration bleeding from his tone. 

  “Danny, I swear to god, don’t make Merritt feel worse about this than he already does,” you whispered so only he could hear. 

  “He’s a hypocrite, Y/n,” Danny hissed.

  You just took your head off his shoulder and shifted away from him, too angry to care about how tired you were in that moment. Why couldn’t he just let it go? 

  The car pulled in to what looked like a casino and stopped at the front door. The Horsemen got out, flanked by more armed guards. 

  “Just follow the guards, they’ll take you to my boss,” Chase said with a grin, “Been fun playing this cat-and-mouse with you, broski. Meow.”

  Merritt rubbed his eyes with his middle fingers. You found a grim sort of satisfaction in that. 

  “Have fun at the Sands,” Chase called as the car pulled away again and you were escorted into the casino. 

  “I am so, so, so sorry,” Merritt said to Danny. You watched wearily from behind them, hoping Danny swallowed his pride for once. 

  “Yeah, you should be.” Of course not. “Don’t ever accuse me of betraying us again, okay?”

  You scoffed, quickening your steps to walk past him and get him out of your eyesight. Unfortunately, the guards led you to an elevator where you were forced to stand in the back and watch as Danny walked in and caught your eye, cocking his head at your glare, and resting his hand against the wall. Your heart thumped loudly at the sight, adding to your frustration. God dammit, he was not allowed to look that good when you were angry with him!

  “Do you guys ever think that the Eye is watching this?” Lula asked next to you, breaking the sullen silence, “You know, that maybe this is even what they want? And at the exact right moment they’re going to swoop in, and we’ll be like, ‘Yes! Thank God you’re here! Thank God! Just in the nick of time, Eye!’ And then we’ll just celebrate, and it was all worth it in the end?”

  Silence. You swallowed, still gazing at Danny. 

  “I don’t even really think that either, so… It’s cool.”

  The elevator door pinged, and opened up behind you. Some sort of rock music blared as the five of you turned around. A man stood in front of huge, floor-length windows looking out on Macau. His leg jerked in time with the music as he flicked a playing card back and forth between his hands. 

  You were shoved out of the elevator by the guards as the man turned around and exclaimed, “Ah! Ta-da! So happy to be working with you! Please, come in, come in!”

  The guards shoved you further, and you winced as one of them elbowed you in the ribs, a soft huff leaving your mouth. 

  “Hey! Hands off her, buddy,” Danny said, stepping between you and the guard. You swallowed down the warmth blooming in your chest at his words, desperately trying to cling to the anger you had held for him just moments earlier. It was a pointless exercise, but damn you if you didn’t try. 

  “Wait, sorry, how are you working with us?” he asked, still standing in front of you which forced you to peer at the stranger over his shoulder. 

  “Oh, well, as much as a magician who pulls a rabbit from a hat is working with that rabbit,” the man explained, pulling on a pair of very expensive looking slippers and walking over his koi-pond floor, “We'll be working together. Yes. Allow me to introduce myself.”

  “Yeah, you’re Walter Mabry,” you stated, stepping out from behind Danny. 

  “You died a year ago,” Jack clarified. 

  “Yes!” Mabry exclaimed, “An idea I got from you, Mr Wilder! Fake your death and the world puts its guard down.”

  You glanced at Lula who stood to your left — she seemed just as overwhelmed as you felt. 

  “I’m able to control quite a few companies, including my old partner Owen’s, as a consortium of so-called anonymous shareholders,” Mabry continued. 

  “And that violates how many SEC laws?” Lula asked. 

  “I believe it breaks all of them,” Mabry answered casually. 

  “All of them,” Lula repeated dryly.

  How could everything have gone so wrong, you thought, dread curling in your gut. This man was obviously unstable, and had no qualms with breaking laws and risking going to jail. Who knew what he was really capable of when pushed?

  “You see, you all want an audience. Need one, desperately. It’s quite sad really,” he directed this at Danny who’s jaw twitched in irritation. You gripped his wrist gently, silently begging him to keep his cool, “I, on the other hand, want the opposite of that. I just want to be, and I am, one hundred percent off the grid. You know why?”

  “Yeah, because the grid is for actual human beings,” Danny quipped, making you grip his wrist tighter. He sent an apologetic glance your way, twisting his hand to grab yours. 

  Mabry was infuriated for a total of zero point five seconds before giving Danny a chillingly calm smile, “No, because in a world of total surveillance, the only true freedom lies in not being seen. You can’t control the grid from within the grid. Follow me.”

  He began walking off. When you didn’t follow him he repeated, “Follow me!”

  “Okay, alright.”

  The guards pushed you forward and the five of you followed Mabry as he spoke. 

  “You pulled a hat out of a rabbit,” he said, turning to Lula, “That was very colourful.”

  She sighed, “Almost eight and a half years ago, so, no need to bring that up.”

  You yourself winced at the memory. Mabry was wrong, there had been an abundance of one colour in particular — red. 

  Mabry grinned and instead turned to Danny, “We can’t all be held accountable for our adolescent personas, can we, Magicolio?”

  Your eyes widened and you whirled on Danny who’s jaw ticked in irritation, “Magicolio… that was fifteen years ago.”

  Oh, you were definitely going to use this. It was gold. 

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Mabry continued, very obviously enjoying his main character moment, “Like you, and many others I suppose, who were not getting any sex in high school, I dabbled with it.” Merritt pointed at Danny who shook his head. “But, uh, unlike you, I was able to transition upward towards actual magic.”

  He gestured to the side where there stood what looked like a giant, shiny server, “Science, you may have heard it called. So would you like to know, my friends, just how I got you here?”

  “We know how you did it,” you stated, having figured that out on the ride here. 

  “No you don’t,” Mabry said sharply. 

  “Yeah, you stole our files from the show,” Merritt drawled, “then obviously hypnotised us.”

  “No, seriously, stop.”

  “The strobe was a combo of binaural beats, as well as…”

  “I said stop!” Mabry yelled, grabbing the sides of Merritt’s neck. The mentalist looked down at the shorter man, a little disturbed. Danny gripped your hand tighter, “You might not be having fun, but I am.”

  “You have an unusual way of showing it,” Merritt mused.

  Mabry ignored his comment and stepped back, clapping his hands together and grinning excitedly,” So... How did I do it? Easy. You see, magicians like to control other people's perceptions. In your heightened state of agitation, you saw the simplest cues — Black tube, roof — and your minds filled in the rest.”

  “Shit,” you muttered, mentally kicking yourself for not keeping your head during the chaos.

  “But the tube you meant to go down was 20 feet to your right,” Mabry finished smugly, “Go on, sit down. There's no one

standing in your way.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Merritt quipped, settling onto the couch. 

  With slight caution, you followed his lead, Danny plopping down next to you. To your dismay, Mabry squeezed in between you and Lula.

  “Anyway, once in the tube, yes you’re right. Blah blah blah, the strobe contained UV letters pulsing the word ‘sleep’, and this combined with the sound put you into an instant alpha pattern.”

  The image of the flashing lights in the tube resurfaced in your mind’s eye and you tried not to wince at the reality of it. You had been tricked. All of you. Dylan too, probably. Not to mention you were now at the mercy of this clearly unhinged not-dead billionaire with a god complex. 

  “And from then on,” Mabry continued, “it really was just fun, and I can assure you, you don’t know what happened.”

  With that he clicked the remote and a power point was displayed on the screen in front of you. The opening slide was black with the words ‘Our trip to Macau’ in white typing. The next slide cleared everything up. 

  “That’s really creepy,” You stated, cautiously eyeing the photograph of your unconscious self lying with your head in Danny’s lap as he leaned on Mabry who was giving the camera the finger. 

  “Really, really creepy,” Lula agreed.

  “That’s not cool,” you said, shaking your head. 

  “Yep, easy stuff, magic, if you put your mind to it,” Mabry said cheerfully. You wanted to claw his eyes out. This urge was heightened when the next photo showed draped over Mabry’s lap, your head resting on his shoulder. 

  Danny tensed next to you.

  “Alright, that’s enough,” he interjected, “So why are we here then? You know, besides you getting to show off how adorably clever you are?” 

  “Well to start with, the man you stole from last year. Turns out I had invested a lot of money in some of his companies so a lot of what you stole, was in fact mine.” Mabry said, his cheerful tone completely at odds with the accusation.

  “It’s a small world,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. It figured this lunatic was after money. Or revenge. Either was enough to satisfy people like him.

  “Good news is, it’s very easy for you to pay me back! I just need your… skills.”

Taglist:

@Pulling-out-my-eyes

@Nightmaredressedlikeadaydream57

[rosy6maple6mothman6]

So I just finished xiaolin showdown: I wanna talk about it. Spoilers.

I really liked the show! I knew I would thanks to childhood memories of it but I think it holds up alright even today! Imma break it down in what I Did like and what I Didn't like (I think Imma make a different post talking about the Wu). This is longer than I thought it would be. I'm sorry.

What I liked

The Wu themselves, love me magic shit even if they get repetitive at times(fr there are like 4 that just give the power to fly).

I fucking love Jack Spicer and Clay Bailey. They are my boys do you hear me! Love how Jack just won't quit and how Clay is just so painfully Texas. My bois

Love the magic in general! How all die of the main characters get to master their element and get special weapons and gear to help. Wish there was more time to flush all of it out tho ,but hey what can you do(other than post head canons).

Dojo Kanojo Cho

Just his name is fucking amazing, and I did like some of his jokes

And his powers were cool! I wish we could have seen the limits of his shapeshifting powers.

I did like wuya and wish we could have seen her do more witchy things.

Chase Young was also very cool.

I also like panda bubba's design and I kinda wish there was more of him. I wanna do things to him DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT

I already said this BUT I just love how all of them got individual weapons that I don't think were Shen Gong Wu? I think.

Master fung and dojo... Had a very odd relationship. I'm 90% sure they were at least fucking by how dojo acted when he went to a different temple and after that it was just very. Weird.nit Bad weird but still.

Wish we could have seen more of their families. kimono's dad was fucking adorable. I want to fuck her dad

Also Love le mime!!! I also wanna fuck him, I am not taking. criticism at this time

I also liked Jermaine and wish he could have been able to join fully or show up more.

Over all love this show.

What I didn't like

How they treated Jack. Idk man I just thought it was weird how the heros tournamented him so much? Like ya he's a ass but like, y'all are the heros why are you acting borderline worse than him???

I also kinda wish he could have officially joined the xiaolin side, I feel like they alluded to him switching multiple times but then he never does and I think that was a waste.

LET JACK BE THE DRAGON OF METAL.

LET JACK MAKE THEM AN AWESOME DEFENSE SYSTEM.

LET JACK DO A FAKE OUT WHERE HE PRETENDED TO GO BAD AND THEN FUCK THE BADDIES UP WITH SABOTAGE.

Idk dude he deserved betted

Also didn't like how he started out at Least semi competent but then just became a pathetic joke? And not even fuc pathetic. He's not a wet dog he's just pathetic.

I wish we could have seen Raimundo's family if not just a sibling or his parents, just something.

Fuck Clay's dad. Not in a hot way. I hate him.

Omi had such an ego. Like dude, please stop.

I really wish we could have seen more of Fung and Omi's relationship. I kinda wish it was more father and son rather than teacher and student since it seems like Omi lived there his entire life.

I also wish we saw more of Fung being badass. I feel there was a lack of that.

I'll say it again, there are a bunch of shen gong wu that kinda just repeat? And some Wu that don't seem like they should be categorize as Wu? Idk I'll make a different post about it bc there a lot to say.

Le mime was cool and I want to know more about him.

I want to know more about almost everyone honestly.

Give Me Their Backstories. Please

This is all I can think of ATM. I'll add more later probably.

Thank you if you made it down here. Let me know what's your fav and least fav about xs.

[coffeelomort]

Noir Bouquet Ep 1 Watch Party Notes

They had the merch from the cafe in front of them!

It was advertised that all the seiyuus would be there, but Murase (Tuxam's seiyuu) was late, or something. (Expected, to be honest.) They joked that he ran there.

They ran another little quiz for the voice drama.

They spent some time introducing the Fragaria Memories project, the characters, and a basic plot for the drama (we all know this).

(They introduced Pikero as a "outrageous" Fragaria… and someone called Lily sexy and it started a minor squabble, lol)

They're doing the Seeds thing during the little game they have in the livestreams again.

(I have… no idea why Arupek's seiyuu was just. Panting. I have no idea what Pikero's seiyuu was doing or what he drew. Why did Hangyon's seiyuu draw a box with the kanji for love in it??? Why was Badobarm's seiyuu panting too??? What was Chaco's seiyuu doing???? What the hell happened??????)

Okay… I think they were miming out or drawing "hints" for the plot. (Is this okay, Sanrio????????)

Break happened here

Oh hey Murase's here. (He took a taxi but it's Japan on a Friday night.)

Turns out Chaco's seiyuu was the one controlled by the Seeds in the earlier… charades game.

They chatted about the voice drama for a while. I think Hangyon and Pikero both played the boke to Tuxam's tsukkomi. (I lost focus here, to be honest.)

New song, Charcoal White! Chaco song that was previewed on Twitter earlier. (And is premiering… pretty much as of posting this. It'll be available on streaming services at midnight locally.)

More info about Wish is…! Seems like Murase will be there on the second day during the day performance! (He's pretty busy for a Fragaria seiyuu, so the fact he's there at all is surprising!)

Collab cafe information! It starts tomorrow at Shibuya PARCO! You get a paper placemat for free, and I think every order comes with a random paper coaster you can take home.

They tried the dishes in real time… Badobarm's seiyuu scoffed it down, lol. I wish I could say the other seiyuus ate and drank their dishes normally, but we all saw the face Pikero's seiyuu made when he bit into the donut. Badobarm's seiyuu is losing his mind over the cold noodle dish for some reason. Arupek's seiyuu also drowned Arupek in his drink.

They're staring a series of 4koma from 13/05!! It'll be uploaded to the Twitter!

There'll be a performance at Animelo Summer Live on 31/08! All of them… except Murase…

Tomorrow's Knight Link will be the same cast as last week; Cielomort, Klarkstella, and Louterstella! (I hope they archive the cast side somewhere one day, that'd be neat.) The week after that will be Tuxam, Hangyon, and Pikero!! They previewed the cast side in the watch party stream after they said bye.

[kari-go]

Don't know if you've mentioned it before, But which akumas are you keeping in your AU?

I already did but! considering I'm changing around the timeline again because I realized some stuff didn't make sense (like why is Gato there during Wishmaker, he's gone at that time lol) this is more of a ramble than an actual coherent post sorry

SO,

Stoneheart, Akuma!Juleka (still no name lol), Reverser, Bubbler, and Stormy Weather happen in that order. I don't think I'm gonna change this because this has been the same in almost every version of the timeline I have made so far.

I also have some plans for Befana, Ikari Gozen, Syren, Pharaoh, Collector, "Frozer", and whatever Dark Cupid's name will be. I am like 95% sure these will appear (because they're important, a new miraculous appears in 3, technically 4, of these and I also just like angst lol by that I mean there's angst in 2 of these xd)

I want to include Lady Wifi, Style Queen, Wishmaker, Gigantitan, Vanisher, Mr Pigeon, Copycat/Pixelator (I won't do them separately, only one of those), Gamer (I just think it would be really funny if Stephan beat Max at a game he's never played (I also figured out how it can make sense!)), Sandboy (literally the akuma that made this au, the ending is actually more important to me than the actual akuma lol).

I also have an urge to make Prime Queen happen but that would just be me being really fucking petty so I don't think I'll do it. it would be purely self-indulgent cringe

I'm unsure (because of previous importance or an interesting concept that's too good to abandon or I just haven't thought of it much further) about Anansi, Rogercop, Sapotis, Zombizou, Evilustrator, Princess Fragrance, Horrificator, Reflekta, Silencer, Puppeteer, Animan, Mime, Weredad, Lies, and Kwamibuster.

Definitely (or I'm not planning it) won't happen and why:

Riposte, Oni-Chan - Kagami just wouldn't let herself get akumatized lol we stan

Guitar Villain - No Jagged stuff

Captain Hardrock - she just doesn't make sense with the rules I fear :(

Chameleon - Lila gets akumatized once (maybe twice but it's definitely not this one nor Volpina)

Bakerix, Kung Food - ew no

Malediktator - Andre gets akumatized as Wishmaker instead, he also looks fucking stupid lmao

Catalyst, any group akumas, Robostus, akumatized sentis - doesn't make sense with the rules

Christmaster, Frigtingale, Party Crasher -I'm just not feeling it bro, I should also rename Chris to something different (probably not Noel what the hell)

Timetagger - no fucking time travel please

Miracle Queen - Chloe would not do that shit

Cat/Gato Blanc - even though this was the thing that started this au (paired with Sandboy) no. I don't like it, it makes no sense, it's horrible

any Zoe akuma - no Zoe

Santa Claws - Santa isn't real

If some of them aren't here, they're probably not gonna happen or are undecided because I forgot about them xd

[pushing500]

The Ship

It's been a long time coming, but it's time for us to say goodbye to The Animist Alliance and the story of Eureka. Who would have thought that a colony I started because I was feeling sick and uncomfortable one day would grow into something so fun? I've had a grand time sharing this story with you all, and I hope you've had fun following the adventure.

Speaking of stories, I tried my hand at writing one for the ending! It's a bit long, so I'll stick it under a break, but I hope you like it. Thank you to everybody who's enjoyed my art and my colony, I've had so much fun making these posts. I can't wait to do more!

So, without further ado...

Tap, tap, tap.

Irwin’s pencil bumped against the clipboard in a thoughtful rhythm as he scowled at the list before him.

“There are twenty-nine people in this colony.” He said, his voice cutting through the silence, “Twenty-nine people, eighty animals, but only eighteen cryptosleep caskets. At the very least, eleven people will have to stay behind.”

“More than that, if we want any of the animals to make it off this planet!” Kawoo piped up, “It would be a shame to leave them all behind after we’ve been through so much together. Anybody with a bonded animal should be allowed to take them on the ship, don’t you think?”

“If there’s room.” Irwin stopped tapping the pencil for a moment to scribble something on the clipboard, “Here, I’ve narrowed the choice down.” He looked up, scanning the gathered colonists until he found who he was looking for— the small group of uncertain newcomers huddled towards the back of the crowd, “Gracie, Hot Minute, Grump, Kelorul, and Jesse. You’ll be staying behind.”

“What?!” 

Predictably, it was Grump who exploded. She had a hair-trigger temper, and when she wasn’t trying to destroy the technology around the colony, she could be found trying to pick a fight with one of the men. Irwin seemed to be a favourite target of hers, perhaps due to his powerful position as the Moral Guide of the Path of Animism. “Why do we have to stay behind? Who do you think you are to make us sit down and watch as the rest of you all get to leave this steaming pile of—”

Irwin’s gaze snapped toward her, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He rolled the pencil back and forth between his fingertips for a few long moments, and Grump calmed herself quickly as she recognised the all-too-familiar expression. 

Irwin only looked at people like that before he reached underneath his duster for the sturdy grip of his persona zeushammer, Xanxalbur.

“You’re staying behind because I don’t like you,” He told her, making no effort to soften the impact of his words. He never did. “You’re all newcomers. None of you have earned a place on the ship.”

“We got the AI Core, didn’t we?” said Hot Minute indignantly, “You never would have finished the ship without us! Well, without Grump, Gracie, Kelorul and me.” Grump, Gracie and Kelorul murmured in agreement. 

“No, I suppose not.” Irwin shrugged and tapped the pencil against the clipboard again.

Tap, tap, tap.

“So… Can we go on the ship?” Gracie asked finally, after several moments of silence broken only by the pencil tapping against the clipboard.

“No.” Irwin squinted at the clipboard and crossed something else out, “Eva, you can’t go either.”

“I can’t?” Eva looked up from the tray of nutrient paste she had been quietly eating, “What’s wrong with me specifically?”

“We’re not convinced you’re human, that’s what’s wrong.” Albina stepped up beside Irwin and peered at the list in his hands, “That does narrow our choices down, but there’s still so many of us.”

“I’ll narrow it some more!” Debby stomped over and linked arms with Eva, “I don’t care if you think she’s a mime! I’m staying with her! I don’t want to go on your stupid ship!”

“Alright, then. Suit yourself.” Irwin made a note on his clipboard, and Albina nodded her approval.

“Irwin, if Debby is staying…” Brennan slunk forward, her eyes rimmed with dark circles. It was clear she hadn’t been sleeping well since her abrupt divorce, “May I claim the first spot on the ship? I… I don’t think I can stand to stay here. Not with…” She glanced over her shoulder to where Debby and Eva stood side-by-side, “Not with some people. Please let me leave.”

“This ship wouldn’t have been possible without you, Brennan. If anybody deserves a spot, it’s you.” Irwin offered her one of his rare smiles, “Alright. Seventeen cryptosleep caskets left.”

“Well, then, let me say something.” Zonovo shoved past Hazrov and Vu to glare at Irwin, “Either that thing leaves on the ship, or I do!” As he delivered his ultimatum, he pointed accusingly at the pulmonoscorpius skittering around by the kitchen. 

Frisbee was one of Kawoo’s beloved pets, but it was a well-known fact around Eureka that Zonovo could not stand the sight of the giant scorpion. His shrieks of terror were such a regular occurrence that nobody batted an eyelid anymore.

Irwin and Albina exchanged glances, and Irwin’s pencil returned to its nervous tapping.

Tap, tap, tap.

“If he wants to go on the ship, I won’t stop him.”  said Albina after a moment, “Some people go to such extreme measures to run from their fears.”

“How can any of you stand to live in such close proximity to that monstrous—” Zonovo began to bristle with anger, but a hand on his arm stopped him before he could start a social fight.

“If Zonovo is going, I’m going.” Baz squeezed his husband’s shoulder and grinned, “You wouldn’t break up marriages over this ship, would you?”

“We wouldn’t dream of it. Irwin, put their names down next to each other. They can have adjacent caskets.” Albina watched Irwin take his notes, then glanced up, “Speaking of marriages… Wookshys, do you want a spot on the ship?” 

“You’ll have a spot if you want one.” Irwin promised, “It’s the least we can do, especially considering how you’ve been treated around here.”

“I’ll follow wherever Albina goes.” Wookshys’ laugh was deep and rich, and it rumbled in his chest as he shook his head and wagged his tail cheerfully, “If she stays, I’ll stay. If she goes, I’ll go. I only want to be with her.” He caught Albina’s eye and winked at her.

“Up to you, then, our fearless leader. Do you want to leave?” Irwin’s pencil hovered over the list of names as he looked at Albina. She hesitated, then lifted her head and stared across the colony to where she could see the faintest glimmer of light where the Anima tree stood. 

Albina spent the majority of her time by the Anima tree. She spoke of it like it was a beloved sister, and she smiled as she looked at it now.

“No.” She murmured, “No, I think I’ll stay. I can’t bear the idea of leaving the tree behind.”

“Excellent!” beamed Wookshys, “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to cope on a spaceship anyway. There's not much fishing to be done in a vacuum, from what I’ve heard. I’d much prefer to stay here.”

“Yes, I think you’ll find more joy here than drifting in the void.” agreed Irwin, “So, that’s three spots gone already. Brennan, Zonovo, and Baz. Fifteen caskets left. Any takers?”

“I’d like to humbly request a spot, please.” Candlelight raised one hand and smiled, “I have very much enjoyed my time here, but I miss being among my own people. This looks like the best chance I’ll get at returning to them, so I’d like to take the chance before it’s gone.”

Irwin nodded as he made the necessary notes, then glanced back up as someone blew a low whistle.

“Well…” Wendy sighed and cracked the knuckles on her right hand, the one which wasn’t bionic, then smiled at her wife, “I reckon Tamarind probably feels the same way about the Anima tree that Albina does, hey? I’m happy to stay here with her. I’ve died once on this planet, and it only seems right that I stay until the day it gets to keep me forever.”

“I’ll stay, but I’d like you to refrain from dying for as long as possible.” Tamarind playfully jabbed Wendy in the ribs, and the two women chuckled before glancing back at Irwin, who was watching them with a quirked eyebrow, “Cross us off the list, please. We’ll stay here.”

“There’s enough room for everyone else, then.” Irwin looked ready to wrap it up, but a cry of distress stopped him before he lay the clipboard aside.

“Wait, wait!” exclaimed Fafo, “I… I don’t want to go. I want to stay here. There are… My… I have… I have my robots!” She gestured helplessly to where Gadget, her small constructoid, was working to rebuild some power conduits while her centipede gunner Hero watched impassively, “I’ve only scratched the surface of my abilities as a mechanitor! Please, don’t be upset, but I don’t want to go!” She addressed this last comment to her husband, Kaz, standing nearby with their son, Ro.

“I’m not upset,” Kaz reassured. He absent-mindedly ruffled Ro’s hair, frowning as he considered, “In all honesty… I prefer the idea of staying, too. I helped build most of this colony. I fell in love and got married here. My son was born here. I think I’d like to stay to raise my family here.” He smiled and glanced at Wendy and Tamarind, “Besides, I’ve still got nine fingers left in case Wendy does anything stupid again and needs to be resurrected. Someone responsible ought to keep an eye on her.” 

Irwin shook his head, but it didn’t hide the grin that crept across his face as he crossed the three Kaznove names off the list.

“I’ll stay, too.” Another voice called out, and Barghest stepped forward, “I know I mostly just sweep the floors here, and nobody would miss me if I left, but this place is good. I like my room. I like my chores. I like the weather here.” He rubbed his beard, then added as if it were an afterthought, “I don’t like the idea of being blown up in a ship and dying in the void without ever knowing what happened.”

“That’s certainly a risk we’ll be taking.” Irwin agreed, “Anybody else having second thoughts? Connie?”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take as long as we’re both on board.” Connie folded her arms and stuck her nose in the air, “I’m sick to death of this place! I just want to go to a nice glitterworld somewhere and get pampered! Is that too much to ask? Besides, you built the ship, dear. I have full faith in it.”

“Make sure I’m in a casket near her!” called Emerald, “We’re sisters, after all. I don’t want to be separated again.” 

Irwin dutifully noted the names of his wife and sister-in-law alongside his own.

“That means there’s room for some of us to go!” blurted Kelorul, “If so many people are staying back, we can—”

“No. Not happening.” Irwin silenced him with a glare, “None of you are welcome on our ship. You’re staying right here. Build your own ship for all I care.” When Kelorul opened his mouth to object, Irwin’s glare intensified, “Don’t make me get Xanxalbur. It’s got the kill-happy trait, and it’s been waiting a long time without satisfaction.”

“Fine,” Kelorul said sulkily before he turned to tramp away with Gracie, Hot Minute, and Grump following in his footsteps. Nearby, Jesse inclined his head and watched his fellow space battle survivors leave, then strolled towards the farms at a leisurely pace, apparently content to stay behind amongst the flowers and trees of the temperate forest rather than fighting for a spot on the ship.

“I want to stay here.” Laurie drew Irwin’s attention back to the main group as she glanced sideways at Debby and Eva, “Maybe I… Maybe… Fall in love again.” Eva poked her tongue out at Laurie, but Debby winked, and Laurie flushed bright red and turned to shuffle away.

“I’m not staying here. There are adventures to have and people to kill! A whole galaxy of them!” Hazrov clenched and unclenched her fists. Her expression was hidden behind the skull mask she wore, but it was easy to imagine the sadistic glee in her eyes.

“I was going to stay, but… If Hazrov is brave enough to board that ship, so am I!” Vu stuffed her hands into her hoodie pocket, “M-mostly. I am a bit worried. It looks awfully rickety, doesn’t it? Like it would break in space.”

“We’ll find out.” Irwin shrugged.

“Will the ship break in space?” Andy, only seven years old, turned to stare at his parents with eyes as big as saucers. Kawoo knelt to gather her son into her arms.

“Of course not!” She reassured, “Your father helped build it, you know. It’s the best one I’ve ever seen! Besides, we’ll be with you the whole way, even if we’re in separate caskets.”

“I built the ship as sturdy as they come, kiddo. Don’t you worry.” Andrei patted Andy’s head. For a moment, Andy still looked troubled, but then his eyes lit up, and he pulled away from Kawoo. He hurried over to the edge of the group and caught one of Henry’s hands in his own.

“You’re coming too, aren’t you?” He said breathlessly, “I’ll be brave if you’re there, Henry. I won’t have to worry about anything hurting us! Not even space could beat you in a fight!” 

“You’re crazy.” Henry did not quite manage a smile, but he clapped Andy on the shoulder in the crisp, parade-ground manner that seemed far too grown up for his small frame, “I won’t leave you for a second. I was engineered as a soldier, and I’ll be damned if I don’t use that engineering to protect the people who have protected me.”

“Language, Henry.” Irwin chided, but he was smiling as he wrote the last few names down. “Let me see… Brennan, Zonovo, Baz, Candlelight, Connie, Emerald, me, Hazrov, Vu, Kawoo, Andrei, Andy, and Henry. That leaves five cryptosleep caskets that we need to fill.”

“We could be really funny and bring the scorpion.” Connie gestured towards Frisbee, but the white-hot glare that Zonovo shot at her was enough to shut her up.

“Tempting, but we should probably use those caskets for any bonded animals. Andrei, Kawoo, you two work with animals the most. Do you want to bring any?”

“Oh, I’d be extremely grateful if we could make room for Pharaoh!” Kawoo perked up at once, “He’s big and strong, but he’s very gentle. I’d love to take him to a glitterworld and show him off! He’s a majestic creature and definitely worthy to be a space explorer. I’d feel better knowing he was close by.”

“The thrumbos are very majestic.” Irwin wrote Pharaoh’s name next to Kawoo’s on his list, “What about you, Andrei? Any animals you’re particularly close to?”

“Well, keeping on the thrumbo theme…” Andrei wrung his hands, “I’m pretty fond of Bellboy. I’ve helped raise him from birth. He’s only young, but… He could grow into something amazing. He’s trained so well. Is there room for him?”

“We have more caskets. We can fit more thrumbos.” Irwin reassured.

“If I may interject, I… I happen to be particularly close with that enormous fluffy cave bear.” Candlelight spoke up, “Witch, you know? She follows me when I go hunting. She’s very affectionate for something with such huge teeth and claws that could– and do– tear raiders to pieces. Her protection and devotion were not easily earned, and I would hate to leave her behind.”

“Two thrumbos and a cave bear. Is there anyone else we need?” Irwin jotted down a few more notes, “We have two caskets left to fill. Suggestions?”

“Brandi and Big Dipper!” Andy exclaimed, “Pharaoh would be lonely if we took him but not his wife and Brandi is pregnant anyway, so it’s like two thrumbos in one go! And they can’t leave without Big Dipper because he was their first baby, and he can keep his little brother Bellboy company.”

“Good idea, Andy.” Irwin nodded his agreement, “You’re a genius. I’m glad you’re coming with us. You too, Henry.” He checked over the clipboard one final time, tapping the pencil as he did.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Looks good.” He said at last, and tucked the pencil and the clipboard away in the pockets of his duster, “That was easy enough to sort out. Now, all that’s left to do is take off.”

So there you have it! It's both exhilarating and heartbreaking to see the end.

On the one hand, I finished a game of RimWorld for the first time!! Woo! On the other hand, I'd really grown to love Eureka and all the colonists it had. Well, I mean, almost all of them. I could take or leave Grump, Hot Minute, Gracie, and Kelorul.

Thank you again to everyone who followed along with this story. I appreciate it so much. I'm definitely going to play more RimWorld in the future, so please feel free to look forward to that! <3 <3 <3

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