#alternative title: what a difference half a lifetime can make

[cuteniaarts]

Mirror, mirror, on the wall...

Who's the fairest of them all?

[jamneuromain]

Wishful Thinking Chpt. 9

Andy Barber x You (Reader), no use of Y/N

Alternate Universe - College AU

Summary: A new semester. A new task. A new boyfriend, your previous professor, Andy Barber. Everything seems to be going on the right track. So why didn't it?

Warning: Angst, possessive behavior, inappropriate teacher-student relationship, power imbalance, age difference, cheating, explicit language, toxic dom/sub relationship, more arguments

A/N: This fic has some disturbing themes, and discusses potentially upsetting topics. Please read through the warning before engaging with the fic. As I have said, the fic has mentioned a number of (potentially) triggering and heavy topics, you don't have to engage further if you feel uncomfortable about one or more topics.

A/N 2: Aaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm back! I'm feeling way better and I'm merging towards my social life as well. I did a litte editing and changing on part 8 where they argued. But it doesn't affect the plot. Feel free to check it out :3 Two more chapters and WT will be completed (I hope I'll get it done by December based on my current speed lmao)

Wishful Thinking M. List Dancing in the Daydream M. List

From joannaklein@dwightuniversity.edu.cn

Dear all,

I hope this reaches you well. This email is to remind those of you who have yet to submit your form for assigning a supervisor…

You have been looking at this email for quite some time. Opening the link at the bottom of this email too. But you haven’t made a move yet.

You have thought about having Andy as your supervisor, but that idea sounded like a lifetime ago. And now, there’s no way you’d let Andy be your supervisor.

How are you going to face him? This is more than just some misunderstanding from last semester. This is you two breaking up. Broken up. Whatever.

You are not making him your supervisor.

Taking a deep breath, you text a reply to the message your barely-friend Fiona sent you half an hour ago.

Fiona: Are you going to choose Barber as your supervisor?

You: No. Klein.

A few more messages come from Fiona after you send it. But you ignore them, knowing that she’d be asking dumb questions.

No, probing questions like “what are you going to write for your dissertation” or “should I include my pilot study into my dissertation” or other things that she wants to make an impression in front of her supervisor without “borrowing” from your answers first.

Bitch.

You feel like screaming. Which you did, after punching your mattress and burying your head into the pillow. Only lifting your head when you are completely out of breath.

With everything that happened with Andy, Laurie, Fiona and your schoolwork, it feels like nothing could alleviate you from the endless mess of self-doubt and self-hatred. Hating others as well. Hating your friend choices. Hating your boyfriend choices. Hating your school which led you to him. Hating everyone and every being on this very planet.

Hating yourself.

“Fucking hell.” You mumble to yourself. Pulling your laptop close to fill in the form for dissertation supervisors.

Typing word for word of your dissertation title, and selecting “Joanna Klein” as your preferred supervisor.

I hate my life. The idea keeps floating in your head like the obnoxious bubbles in a soda can, spritzing tiny drops of irritating reality into your face.

Andy has just received the email from Joanna Klein to all available lecturers and professors about supervising students in their dissertations.

He found the familiar name – your name – in a heartbeat. Merely sticking out his lips and making what Laurie would call “a bitch face”, as he found your name under the list of students under the supervision of Joanna Klein.

The pure imagination of pulling the strings behind your dissertation, of having a say in what you could not refuse, seeing you writhing under his grasp, gets his blood pumping in his veins.

He’s probably sick to the bones. One brief moment of clarity tells him so. To get high just to watch you struggling in his control. The adrenaline rush of knowing you are helpless, having no one to turn to but him.

He probably needs help.

But who needs help, when you, the most direct and sufficing way of satisfying his hunger, practically serve your weakness on a silver platter?

Andy pulls his chair closer to the desk, makes up his mind, and starts typing on the keyboard.

He is doing what’s best for you.

You might not see it that way for now but…

You’ll understand, eventually.

Andy sits in his office. Waiting. Patiently. Tapping his fingers on the table surface, as he looks out of the window.

It has only been a while, since you last came to his office to deliver his suit and your breakup.

However, things turned rather quickly, as there was no room for argument as the final version of the list containing supervisor and their students to tutor through the dissertation was settled as the last nail in the coffin.

Five students, students that he is going to supervise, are about to enter that door. And one of them being you.

He grins, thinking of the fact that you are tied to him for the rest of the term time.

No use running. He rolls your name on his tongue silently. He’s far beyond any help could ever achieve in pulling him back. He wants you, one way or another.

He’d keep you, treat you like the precious thing he adores, if you behave.

If you do not… well, there are more than a few ways that he can think of to devour you.

He’d keep you, one way or another.

Five students, including you, walked through that door, sitting on the chairs that he prepared. You picked the seat furthest from him, in a small corner. Didn’t make eye contact. No friendly “hello”. No nothing.

He doesn’t mind.

He knows that you are still mad about your little dispute.

He will tolerate it, knowing that you still love him.

He will explain, tell you that he will fight tooth and nail for you. Tell you that you could start over. He was being unreasonable. He was frustrated and angry, and he lashed out on you, that he was sorry about it all.

Later. He will explain later.

Andy clears his throat, folding his hands on his stomach, “Today we’ll start by having a brief introduction of yourselves. You obviously know me, since I’ve taught you all, but I would still like it if you could introduce yourself to each other. You can tell us about your name, something about yourself, and also tell us about what you are planning to write for your dissertation…”

He pays no special attention to you. He comments, nods, and gives useful suggestions based on everyone’s self-introduction.

“I understand I’m asking for a lot of work in a short amount of time. However, I would expect you to produce a general frame of your dissertation by the next meeting, which is two weeks from now. In the framework, you’ll be talking about how you want to approach your topic-” He stops Fiona from scribbling on her notebook, but ignores you who are doing the same. What can he say, he favors you in the smallest of details, “I’ll send you all an email after this meeting for the framework you’ll be writing about. The topic, the details you are going to investigate, the methodology – I’m sure Professor Rifkin has explained this in her class, and also, keep an open mind when you are writing the dissertation, especially for those who are employing a qualitative method to analyze their data. Any questions?”

You are the first to rush out of his office after he declares that today’s session has come to an end.

He waits until the last student has left the floor before heading out.

The entire floor is quiet. Dead. Deserted.

His shoes barely make a sound on the soft carpet as he steps out of his office, finding you on the floor, sitting on the carpet. You have opened your laptop, but it seems blank.

You gain your consciousness when he approaches, looking up at him. A sigh leaving your lips before you speak, “You did this.”

Not a question, but a firm sentence.

You know he was behind this transfer of dissertation supervisors.

Andy neither confirms nor denies. He cocks his head slightly, looking at your tired expression, “You will need to work on your methodology. Your arguments wouldn’t be convincing if you only state the method for your dissertation.”

“Can’t we be those ex-es like friends? Stop torturing each other over the fact that we broke up? Can you just leave me alone?” You take a deep breath, saying the words that you know he will be disapproving of.

He takes a seat on the couch in the open space, about three feet from where you are sitting, but he doesn’t have to put extra pressure on his neck looking at you from above.

Andy interlaces his fingers into a fist, his thumbs tapping each other.

To tell the truth, he couldn’t. He couldn’t let go of you. Couldn’t watch you go away.

“Look-” Seeing him unresponsive to your plead, you change your tactics, switching into defiance, “If you want to be a bitch about our relationship, I will have to put in a request to the faculty about changing my supervisor.”

Andy lets out a cold, hard laugh. Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, Andy “kindly” tells you about the regulation that runs around the place: “Nice try getting rid of me, sweetheart. But even if you do, and that’s a big ‘if’, you would still have to write your dissertation, and during scoring, your dissertation would be assigned to lecturers based on your topic. And I know all your topics, sweetheart.”

Your lips visibly tremble in fear, so are your arms, “You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.” His tone turns sharp, “I can put an A into your months of work, or an F. Your choice.”

“Yeah? And what should I do for an A?” You shut your laptop with a loud snap, jumping from the spot on the floor to your feet. Clenching your teeth and hissing like venom burns your mouth, you challenge him even further, “Suck your dick, Professor Barber?”

“Be nice, sweetheart. I’m trying to be a friend.” Andy narrows his eyes, the threat in his tone is evident, “First of, I suggest you to be respectful when talking to me.”

You glare at him with fire burning in your eyes.

“I'm not a monster, sweetheart. But if you poke me like that, I don't mind putting a little discipline inside that pretty little brain of yours. Try to stay on my good side, yeah?” Andy stands to his full height, buttoning his suit jacket as he stands up, casually tugging the hem of his shirt and his tie. After tiding himself up, Andy lifts his hand to caress your jaw.

You jerk your head on instinct but his fingers dig into your neck, reminding you, painfully, of the night that he went overboard and fucked your throat.

His grip softens when he feels you freeze on spot. Tracing his thumb on your jawline, he murmurs, “Remember, sweetheart? I'm your Dom. I tell you something, and you do it.”

“You're not my fucking Dom.” You grit out.

“Still bratty, I see. You're a handful but I doubt there's anything that can't be solved by some punishments.”

His thumb forces you to lift your chin, even so, you refuse to look at him.

It takes you a few seconds to regain your voice, “You can't expect me to whore out myself.”

If that’s what he’s asking.

Andy presses a small kiss to your temple, whispering by your ear, “I don't really mind, sweetheart, as long as it is you.”

Some sense finally comes to you, your body shakes like a leaf in both fear and fury, you try to sound tough, but it comes out no better than a whimper, “I could report you to the board of malpractice.”

“And I have a lawyer friend, honey. He's the best in town. God knows how long a lawsuit can take. 18 months? 24?”

“Honey” was usually meant for Laurie, but he is beyond caring which endearment belongs to whom at this point.

“You're ... evil.” You want to move, but you cannot, not when he’s still having an iron grip over your neck.

“Maybe.” Andy shrugs, letting go of your neck, “Now run along before I do something evil, like fucking you over my desk.”

You pack your things as fast as you can, leaving the place without another word.

The rest of the term time passed in a blur. He attends your graduation ceremony with a heart-felt smile, knowing well that he black-mailed you into accepting his supervision and that you have an impeccable dissertation as he almost looked through every word of it, which probably violated ten faculty rules, if not twenty.

He is still clapping when you receive the graduation certificate from Joanna Klein, while he stands on the side. The next thing he knows, you are rushing towards him with a knife in your hand, carving his chest almost in half and he dies before the ambulance can reach the hospital.

His soul floats in mid-air as he watches everything pans out.

Laurie takes over everything, every property in their marriage.

You are charged with murder, serving your life-sentence in a max-security prison.

And Laurie… Laurie divorced him and marries the man she was having an affair with, decorating Andy’s house into a shit-yellow color, laughing and doesn’t have to worry about the rest of her life since she has all the money, cars, and houses that she could get their hands on…

Andy wakes up screaming.

Panting.

Taking a few seconds to realize that he is not in a ghost state and that he is still alive.

Alive. Awake. In his home. In the middle of the night.

Everything in the dream felt so real. Like it actually happened.

Andy touches his chest, where the skin and flesh are intact.

He is still alive.

He sweated through his sheet.

Another few seconds pass and he stays up, hands over his face, recalling the horrible dream.

The absolute nightmare where he told Joanna to switch you to his-

Shit.

He pulls himself over the bed and snatches his phone from the nightstand, checking his email.

The sudden blue light from his phone has him cursing. After flipping over his inbox and finding that he received the email of supervising students yesterday, but hasn’t made a move yet, he lets out an exhale of relief.

He groans and lies back to the bed. His heart still pounding frantically.

A string of curses flies out of his mouth.

Rest assured that he is not going to pull a favor and get you assigned to him.

But he wants you so bad.

How can he live when he wants you so bad and he pissed you off by saying the most harmful things that could be ever said to you?

Tag List: @geminiflanagansblog @wintasssoldier @sapphire-rogers @nouk1998 @sarahdonald87 @charmed-asylum

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 4

Chapter 3

Warning: mention of torture? Light victim blaming, Lucifer, Satan, and Beel commit murder.

“I see,” Diavolo had a contemplative look on his face. The demon lord, often seen with a jovial, bright smile plastered upon his face, now had replaced it with a more serious look as Lucifer explained just what had happened to his brother. “And you’re positive this is what happened to Mammon?”

“Asmo is certain enough that he would stake his title as Avatar of Lust on it.” Satan spoke up.

“I see, if that’s the case then I will permit you up to the human world to pay these women a visit. Make sure they suffer, all three of you.” The warmth in his voice, his eyes, now replaced with a cold tone and a wrathful look, absolutely enraged that a demon not just under his rule, but in his cabinet no less had been assaulted in this manner. He may have failed in protecting the Avatar of Greed from this but he would see to it that a crime this grave never happened again to one of his subjects. “I’d would go in your stead to deal with them myself, but I will stay behind and work to pass legislation to ban the making of pacts freely. This will not happen again; I swear it on my life and my throne.”

And with Diavolo’s permission the three Avatars were off, out for blood for the travesty that befell their brother. Once they were gone, Diavolo turned to his butler.

“Barbatos, did you foresee this at all? Was there not anything we could have done differently to prevent this?” For as angry as he is, the demon lord feels a certain sense of guilt for what happened to the white-haired demon. What kind of ruler cannot protect one of his subjects from something so heinous?

“In another reality, yes.” He nodded, “But never in this one specifically, my Lord.”

“What happens next?”

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The three Avatars stand outside the residence of the witches. Lucifer is the first to step forward, demon form manifesting from the wrath coursing through his being. The aura he emits is suffocating to all around him. A knock on the door is all the courtesy he plans to give them tonight.

When the door opens, there is a collective gasp.

“L-Lord Lucifer,” One of the sisters steps back as the three demons barge their way inside the building. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit from not only you, but your younger brothers as well?”

“Do not. DO NOT ACT AS IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO OUR BROTHER!” Satan roars, his demon for making its appearance. He’s ready to go on the attack however it’s Lucifer that stops him with a simple wave of the hand.

“We know everything you’ve done.” The eldest’s voice is cold, gaze calculated. “You’ve not only laid a hand on one of my brothers, but my favorite one at that. That in and of itself is enough to warrant your deaths, but to cause him such suffering will ensure they are not quick.

With another wave of his hand, the Avatar of Pride bound the three women before letting his brothers have a go at the other two. The eldest was his.

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Asmo took a step into his brother’s room and was devastated to see the look on his brother’s face. He looked so broken; his cheeks soaked with tears as Asmo heard Arella speaking.

“You don’t have to do it if you’re not strong enough for it. I’m sure there are alternatives we could find if you can’t. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We all will help you if you decide to go through with this.”

The demon’s curiosity was piqued. Just what we’re they talking about?

“’Rella, I can’t ask that of any of you. This is my punishment for bein’ so powerless.”

Asmodeus cleared his throat to gain her their attention.

“What are you two talking about? Did something else happen?”

Arella only picked up the phone and handed it to him. What he saw was enough to pull a gasp from the demon. It made him sick.

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As soon as it had begun, the torture was over. None of the three brothers had even broken a sweat at this point. The witches hadn’t even lasted that long. Blood and viscera coat the floor, bones stick out from odd places, one has pieces missing from her body here and there- bite marks and missing flesh, even a missing arm- all courtesy of the Avatar of Gluttony.

“Beel, are you hungry or has anger tided your hunger?”

“I'm famished,” The Avatar of Gluttony confirmed.

“Go ahead and dispose of their bodies then. Make sure no trace of them remains.” The Avatar of Pride nods to his younger brother.

It was then that they heard it- the screaming cry of a frightened baby. The sound was easy to miss over the shrieking and wailing- the pleas for mercy that would never come. One by one, their heads turned to the sound just upstairs as they all came to terms with the fact that a child had been born from this travesty.

Satan was the first to move as he climbed the stairs. Just off to the right was a tiny nursery and lying in the crib, he found the child. All of his instincts were screaming at him to do away with the infant. He almost did had it not been for Lucifer’s hand placed on his shoulder. They were soon joined by Beel as all three of them peered down at the tiny child below them.

“What do we do?” Beel asked.

“Do we take them with us? Or do we leave them to the proverbial wolves?”

Both brothers looked to the eldest, demanding an answer. For the first time, the Avatar of Pride doesn’t have the answer. Does he take the life of an innocent child or does he subject his brother to a lifetime of suffering? It's an impossible decision to make where either party ultimately loses in the end.

Lucifer reaches down and takes the infant into his arms, a pained look on his face as he scrutinizes the infant’s appearance. Suddenly, he’s flashing back to his time as an angel, back to the first time he ever held Mammon in his arms. The child is an exact carbon copy of their father, no apparent features from his mother or her sisters, this was the best case scenario, but the little one looks sickly- likely due to the lack of demonic influence that would have been received from their father had he been present during the pregnancy.

Finally, after remaining silent for what felt like eternity Lucifer spoke up. “The child doesn’t look long from this world. We’ll wait for morning. If they survive the night, we’ll take them with us- let Mammon decide what to do with them.”

The other two nodded as Beel went back downstairs to finish the meal he had started.

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“You don’t have to take him, Mammon.” Asmo kept staring at the photo on his brother’s D.D.D. as he spoke.

“He has no one else, Asmo,” The white-haired demon frowns. “I can’t just leave him to die and it’s not like I can just give ‘im away either. As much as I hate it, he’s the heir to everything I am- the next Avatar of Greed, the next ruler of the fourth layer. It’ll be hard at first, but I’ll force myself to look past what happened to me. This isn’t his fault, so why punish him for the crimes of his mother and her sisters? He’s innocent in all this.”

“Even now,” the Avatar of Lust chuckled sadly, “after all these years, you still have the heart of an angel, don’t you? You aren’t thinking about what this will do to you, are you? He’ll be a constant reminder of your trauma. Is that really fair to you?”

“It isn't, but when has life ever been fair? If life was fair, we wouldn’t ’ve lost Lilith- wouldn't ‘ve fallen from the Celestial Realm.” He wiped at his eyes.

“No. It’s not, but I still think this is a bad idea for you. None of us will stop you if this is what you want to do but you shouldn’t do it just out a sense of obligation.” Asmo placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You should only keep him if you want to.”

At the look of resignation on Mammon’s face, Arella placed a hand on his back. “We’re here if you need us. If it gets to be too much, I can help care for him, okay?” She echoes the words she had said previously.

“Babe, you don’t-”

“I know I don’t, but I want to.” She smiled softly. “We’re in this together. All of us.” She looked to the strawberry blonde demon as he nodded in agreement.

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Satan sat in the rocking chair next to the crib while Lucifer was on the phone notifying Diavolo of the situation as well as speaking to Arella in regards to the baby. He studied his nephew, wondering just what might happen to the little boy. Over the hours since finding him here, the tiny half-demon seemed to be getting stronger- likely from just being in the presence of his brothers and him. It was apparent that the child would be coming with them. He wondered what his brother’s reaction would be to the infant. Demons were known to kill unwanted offspring out of panic.

It was the circle of life, the blonde supposed. Not what the child deserved, but if it led to that, there was really nothing anyone could do. He was drawn from his thoughts as quiet chirps sounded from the boy. He watched as the infant brought his little hand to his mouth and he started squirming in the mass of blankets he was swaddled in.

The Avatar of Wrath looked around for a bottle or really anything that could be a source of nourishment. Of course, the newborn would get hungry eventually- that's essentially all babies at this age, eat and sleep. The demon finally finds a mini fridge on the wall opposite the crib, right next to the changing table. He had never fed a baby before but he would be willing to try as long as it kept the boy satisfied and kept him from crying. A trial by fire as they say.

Rocking the infant carefully, he slowly got up and retrieved a bottle from the fridge. It was a lot smaller than he thought an infant should take but it was good enough for the time being. Thankfully there was a bottle warmer placed on a nightstand near the crib. He placed it inside, setting the temperature at that of a human’s normal body temperature. When the milk was sufficiently heated, he gave it to the child who then suckled it down rather quickly,

“Hey now, there’s no need to suck it down so fast. You'll choke if you’re not careful.”

Lucifer had rejoined at him at this point. The scene of his brother trying so hard to feed the baby almost made him chuckle. “I can take him, if you’d like, Satan.”

“Please, I really don’t know how to do this.” He pulled the bottle away so he could transfer the child to his older brother.

“It won’t be long until the dawn. Gather up some of his things as we’ll be taking him with us. I just got off the phone with Arella. She told me Mammon plans on keeping the him.” Lucifer only sighed, wondering if the Avatar of Greed was only doing this out of a sense of obligation and responsibility.

Green to yellow gradient eyes widen in surprise at the statement. “He’s planning on keeping him? I figured he wouldn’t want anything to do with the baby.”

“As did I but, for all of our brother’s flaws, he’s still genuinely a good person. I don’t think he can really leave behind someone who needs him- especially an innocent child.” Lucifer looks down at the child who has now finished the bottle. “Hand me a rag.”

“Why?”

“Well, I would prefer not to be spat up on and now that he’s finished eating, he needs to be burped.” The eldest moved the infant to rest against his shoulder as Satan handed him the nearest rag he could find. “Babies aren’t capable of burping on their own. Now, go gather his things. I’ll tend to him for the time being."

Next

Masterlist 2

[nat-20s]

Wonderful! Au Part 7! (also on ao3 here) another episode only installment, and obnoxiously fluffy! Have fun!

~*~

Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.

Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?

Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.

Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.

Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-

Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-

Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-

Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.

Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.

Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?

Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.

Jon: But?

Martin:...There's no but.

Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.

Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.

Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?

Martin: Perhaps. After all,

Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!

Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!

Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.

Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?

Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.

Jon:...

Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.

Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.

Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.

Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.

Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.

Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?

Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.

Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.

Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?

Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.

Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?

Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.

Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.

Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.

Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.

Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.

Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?

Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.

Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?

Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.

Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.

Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.

Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.

Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?

Martin: Tofu!

Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?

Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-

Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.

Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.

Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright

Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-

Jon: -uh huh-

Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-

Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-

Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.

Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.

Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.

Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.

Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.

Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad. 

Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.

Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.

Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?

Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.

Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!

Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show  applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.

Martin: Well...

Jon: Well, what?

Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-

Jon: What?!

Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?

Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-

Martin [only laughs harder]

Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.

Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of  a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.

Jon: Hang on, you proposed?

Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?

Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.

Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-

Jon:  No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.

Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?

Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.

[An audible pause is left in the recording.]

Martin: That does not count.

Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!

Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.

Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.

Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.

Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.

Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?

Jon: Uhh..

Martin: Yes?

Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.

Martin: Okay? And?

Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.

Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.

[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]

Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.

Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.

Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.

Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.

Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.

Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.

Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.

Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.

Jon, soft: I know, love.

Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.

Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.

[Martin sighs]

Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.

Jon: Please.

Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.

Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.

Martin: That's very true.  Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.

Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.

Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.

Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.

Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.

Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.

Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.

Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.

Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..

Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look. 

Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.

[howdon-aldi-death-queue]

NEW SAM FENDER INTERVIEW FOR NME

THE BIG READ

Sam Fender: “This album is probably the best thing I’ve done in my life”

The hometown hero has distanced himself from the ‘Geordie Springsteen’ tag, but there’s no shortage of rites-of-passage yarns and colossal tunes on the upcoming ‘Seventeen Going Under’

“You can see the ghost of Thatcherism over there…” says Sam Fender, pointing across the water to a vacant shipyard, where once the shipbuilding industry was so healthy that vessels towered higher than the rows of houses on the shore. We’re on the waterfront in North Shields, just outside Newcastle, and our photographer is snapping away for Sam’s first NME cover shoot.

The singer-songwriter stares stonily into the lens as wafts of seaweed and fishing trawlers are carried by the northern coastal breeze. He’s already been stopped for a few pictures with fans, but remains eager to point out the impact that Tory leadership has had on his working-class town over the last few decades. “It’s been closed since the ’80s, from the ghost wasteland of the shipyards. You’ve got all the scars of Thatcherism from The Tyne all over to the pit villages in Durham.”

It’s as good an introduction as any to the outspoken musician, whose 2019 debut album ‘Hypersonic Missiles’ was a record for his sleepy hometown to be proud of – tackling themes that range from male suicide (the heartbreaking ‘Dead Boys’) to world tensions (and the “kids in Gaza” he eulogised on its soaring title track). He set weighty topics against blisteringly well-executed Americana with the fist-in-the-air euphoria of Bruce Springsteen’s colossal choruses and sax solos. Much like his hero, Sam smartly weaves his own political standpoint and personal circumstance into gripping anthems of a generation, which earned him the ‘Geordie Springsteen’ tag.

“I can’t exactly bat off those comparisons, can I?” he says back in his cosy recording studio nearby. “At the same time, I don’t feel worthy of that tag. The first time I heard it, I was like, ‘That’s fucking sick’, but you don’t want to be riding off the coattails of The Boss for the rest of your life. I can write my own songs, they’re different and my voice doesn’t sound anything like Springsteen’s. I don’t have his growl; I’m a little fairy when I sing.”

He may have toned down the Springsteen vibes slightly on his highly anticipated second album ‘Seventeen Going Under’, due later this year, but there are still plenty of chest-pounding anthems capable of making your hairs stand on end: “I much prefer Americana to the music we have in our country at the moment. I love the leftfield indie stuff like Fontaines D.C, Squid and Black Midi, but I love a chorus and melodic songs. I think the American alternative scene has that down with Pinegrove, Big Thief, The War On Drugs.”

‘Hypersonic Missiles’ thrummed with a small town frustration almost that every suburban teenager could surely relate to. This was most notable on ‘Leave Fast’, where he sang about the “boarded up windows on the promenade / The shells of old nightclubs” and “intoxicated people battling on the regular in a lazy Low Lights bar”, a reference to his beloved local. But album two sees him fully embrace North Shields, an ever-present backdrop to cherished memories and harrowing life events of his youth and surroundings.

It’s no coincidence that the 27-year-old has turned inwards and penned a record about his hometown while being stuck at home like the rest of the country: “I didn’t have anything to point at and I didn’t want to talk about the pandemic because nobody wants that – I never want to hear about it again. It was such a stagnant time that I had to go inwards and find something, because I was so uninspired by the lifetime we we’re living in.

“I’ve made my coming-of-age record and that was important for me – as I get older, these stories keep appearing; I’ve got so much to talk about. I wrote about growing up here. It’s about mental health and how things that happen as a child impact your self-esteem in later life. On the first record, I was pointing at stuff angrily, but the further I’ve gotten into my 20s, the more I’ve realised how little I know about anything. When you hit 25, you’re like: ‘I’m fucking clueless! I know nothing about the world.’ It was a humbling experience, growing up.”

Early last year, before the pandemic hit, Sam was set to jet off to New York pre-pandemic to record in the city’s infamous Electric Lady studios founded by Jimi Hendrix. “Looking back, I’m thankful that it happened,” he says. “If I went off to New York and did my second album there… it wouldn’t have been the same record. I will go and do the third one in NYC, come hell or high water – I’m fucking out of here!

“The forced return home really informed the direction [of the record]. I was on the crest of this insane wave; we’d sold out 84,000 tickets for the [‘Hypersonic Missiles] arena tour that we still haven’t played yet. I’m still waiting to hear when it’s going to be rescheduled. It’s incredibly frustrating; I’ve got loads of frustrated fans. That was all cancelled on the day of the lockdown. I thought it was only going to be a couple of months and that it would be another swine flu thing, but fool me – I was stuck in the house like everybody else.”

It’s not the first setback that Sam has dealt with in his career. In the summer of 2019, he was ready to make his Glastonbury Festival debut with a Friday afternoon set on the legendary John Peel Stage, a rite of passage for any emerging artist, but had to pull out due to a serious health issue with his vocal chords. The mood in the room shifts dramatically at the mention of this devastating period: “I don’t want to focus on that, to be honest, because it’s just negative news and it’s in the past.”

“The further I’ve gotten into my 20s, the more I’ve realised how little I know”

Looking back now, he says, it was a tough decision, but ultimately the right thing to do: “We were doing so much at the time and I just burnt out. If you damage your vocal cords, you can’t take it lightly. If something happens like that and you keep going, you’ll fucking lose your career forever. I never want to end up behind the knife; I just refuse to put myself in that situation.”

The fact that his 2019 breakthrough ground to a halt again in COVID-decimated 2020 “was frustrating as fuck”, he says, “but I took solace in the fact that everyone was stopped in their tracks that time; it wasn’t just me.” This was in stark contrast to the singer’s experience of pulling the biggest moment of his music career in order to rest his vocal cords: “I didn’t talk for three weeks; I had to be silent and just watch Glastonbury on the TV, going, ‘This is completely dogshit’. But you can’t even say that out loud – you’re just saying it over in your head like a psycho. I’d take a pandemic over that any day.”

There was a brief flash of light when he headlined the opening night at the world’s first socially distanced arena, Newcastle’s Virgin Money Unity venue, to an audience of 2,500. Yet Sam’s not in the mood to wax lyrical about that, either. “It was amazing,” he says, “but it didn’t happen again.” A local lockdown in the North East brought the following shows – which would have featured Kaiser Chiefs and Declan McKenna – to a premature end in September: “It was another false start. We thought everything was going to get moving again but then we were just sat around [again].”

As for this reaction to the Government’s handling of the pandemic? It perhaps says it all that he’s selling face masks emblazoned with the words ‘2020 Shit Show’ and ‘Dystopian Nightmare Festival’ on his website. “I think everyone has said enough haven’t they?” Sam suggests. “I never want to see Boris Johnson’s or Matt Hancock’s face ever again. As soon as they come on the TV, I just turn it off.”

Political tension bubbles through ‘Seventeen Going Under’. Its second half boasts tracks such as ‘Long Way Off’, a brooding but colossal festival anthem brimming with angst and unease. “Standing on the side I never was the silent type,” Fender roars, “I heard a hundred million voices / sound the same both left and right / we’re still alone we are.” It’s gripping stuff; a Gallagher-level anthem ripe for pyro and pints held aloft.

Sam says the song is about feeling stranded amid political divisiveness here and in the US, epitomised when Donald Trump supporters stormed the Capitol in Washington back in January: “You’ve either got right-wing, racist idiots or you’ve got this elitist, upper-middle-class section of the left-wing, which completely alienates people like myself and people from my hometown.”

“The polarity between the left and the right has me feeling like I have no identity”

Closer to home, the last UK election, in 2019, saw the so-called ‘Red Wall’ crumble as working-class voters in the north defected from Labour to Tory. “The polarity between the left and the right has me feeling like I have no identity,” Sam says. “I’m obviously left-wing, but you lose hope don’t you? Left-wing politics has lost its main votership; it doesn’t look after working-class people the way that it used to. Blyth Valley voted Tory just north of here. Now, that is saying something! We’re in dire straits when a fucking shipbuilding town is voting for the Tories – it’s like foxes voting for the hunter.”

He’s even seen his own working-class friends peel to the blue side: “I’m like, ‘What the fuck is going on?’ I understand it, though. I’d never vote for the bastards because I fucking hate them and I know what they’re up to, but I get why people don’t feel any alliegiance to left-wing politics when they’re working-class.”

As ever though, Sam isn’t masquerading as an expert: “I’m not fucking Noam Chomsky, you know what I mean? I’m not going to dissect the whole political agenda of the Tories and figure it all out because I can’t. All I see is a big fucking shit sandwich – every day through my news feed – and it’s just, ‘Well: that’s what your dealing with.”

The singer is fond of describing North Shields as “a drinking town with a fishing problem”. Today he adds: “That’s been the backdrop of my life: all of these displaced working-class people. It’s a town that’s resilient that still has a strong sense of community. In a lot of big cities that’s dead. In London everything changes from postcode to postcode, but everything is quite uniform up here.”

When NME was awaiting Sam’s arrival outside the studio before the interview, a passerby clocked our photographer’s gear and asked, “Oh aye – are you waiting for Sam? We all know Sam – a good lad; very accommodating with nae airs or graces about him.” Another pointed to The Low Lights Tavern down the road, where Fender used to pull pints on the weekends: “He was a terrible barman, and he’ll be the first to tell you that. I think he got sacked about six times during his time there.”

Sam (who confesses of his bartending know-how: “He’s totally right!”) hit the local to celebrate when ‘Hypersonic Missiles’ won him a Critics’ Choice gong at the BRIT Awards in 2019, placing the trophy on the bar. “I owed The Low Lights one for being such a shit barman,” he says. “I wanted them to be proud of us because they fucking certainly wasn’t proud of us when I was around working there!”

“Celebrity stuff freaks me out. I’d rather just live my life”

He’s clearly a key member of the local community, then. How did he see the pandemic impact on his family and friends – especially when the North East faced the toughest Tier Four lockdown restrictions last December? Sam pauses before bluntly saying: “I lost more mates; there was suicides again. Mental health was the biggest thing. We lost friends who had drunk too much.”

A track on the new record, ‘The Dying Light‘, is an epic sequel to ‘Dead Boys’, with the poignant last line of the album ringing out “for all the ones who didn’t make the night”. Sam, unable to truly distance himself from The Boss after all, explains: “It’s very Springsteen. It’s my ‘Jungleland’ or ‘Thunder Road’ – it’s got that ‘Born To Run’ feel; there’s strings and brass [and] it’s fucking massive. It’s a celebration. It’s a triumph over adversity.”

He stresses that it was vital for him to be in regular contact with his friendship circle through that traumatic time: “It becomes important when you lose friends to suicide… You realise it’s always the unlikely folks. We lost a friend to suicide at the beginning of last year and it was someone you’d never expect. It really hits home; it’s important to check in on your mates.”

Sam has alluded in previous interviews to a health condition that he’s not yet ready to fully disclose, and tells NME that he spent three months shielding at the beginning of the pandemic: “I was alone for three months and that was very tough… When you’re completely alone and isolated, it’s impossible. I spent a lot of time drinking and not really looking after myself and eating shit food, but I wrote a lot of good lyrics.”

There’s a certain resulting bleakness to some of his new songs, but Sam also wanted light to shine through. “It’s a darker record, but it’s a celebration of surviving and coming out the other end,” he explains. “It’s upbeat but the lyrics can be quite honest. It’s the most honest thing I’ve done.”

You might expect a young hometown hero to rail at having been denied the chance to capitalise on his burgeoning fame in the last year or so, but Sam insists, “I still have imposter syndrome,” adding: “I don’t feel like it’s happened… I’m walking around the street and people ask for photos and it just feels bizarre. I’m like, really? I feel like I haven’t come out of my shell yet.”

Sam has rarely been one to court celebrity, and revealed in 2019 that he’d turned down the chance to appear in an Ariana Grande video. “It was an honour but I would have just been known as that guy in the video,” he tells NME. “All of my mates would have been flipping their heads off, but I don’t think she would really want an out-of-shape, pale Geordie. I’d rather just live my life, because all of this celebrity stuff freaks [me] out, you know?”

He might have to get used to it: things can only get bigger with the arrival of the new album. “As a record I think this one is leagues ahead [of ‘Hypersonic Missiles’],” he says, “I’m more proud of this than anything I’ve ever done. It’s probably the best thing I’ve done in my life. I just hope people love it as much as I do. With the first album, a lot of those songs were written when I was 19, so I was over half of it [by the time it was released]. Whereas this one is where I’m at now.”

“This is a dark record, but it’s a celebration of surviving and coming out the other end”

Still, he adds: “At the same time, this record is probably going to piss a lot of people off.” He’s referring to a line in one of the more political tracks, ‘Aye’, where he returns to his most enduring bugbear, divisiveness, and claims that “the woke kids are just dickheads”. Sam’s no less forthcoming in person: “They fucking are, though! Some 22-year-old kid from Goldsmiths University sitting on his fucking high horse arguing with some working-class person on some comments section calling them an ‘idiot’ and a ‘bigot’? Nobody engages each other in a normal discussion [online] without calling each other a ‘thick cunt’.”

He’s eager to make this statement, though, come what may: “I don’t fucking care any more. I’m not really sure how the reaction is going to be. People used to say things online about me and I used to get quite hurt about it, but now I’m like, ‘Well, they’re not coming to my house’… [But] I get so angry. In Newcastle we say ‘pet’ and someone was trying to tell me that was fucking offensive towards women. You’re not going to delete my fucking colloquial identity. It’s not even gender-specific; we say it to men and women. My Grandma calls me ‘pet’! That brand of liberalism is fucking destroying the country. We could be getting Boris Johnson and all them pricks out of office if we stopped sweating over shit like that”.

Sam might be outspoken, but he’s self-aware, too. When we were talking politics earlier, he said: “I didn’t want to start on ‘cancel culture’ because I don’t want to sound like Piers Morgan [and] I fucking hate that cunt. But there is a degree of it which lacks redemption; people fuck up. Everyone is a flawed character. If you’re not admitting that you have flaws, then you’re a fucking psychopath. The left-wing seem to be that way and the right-wing are fucking worse than they’ve ever been. Politically I have just lost my shit.”

In all of this uncertainty, though, it seems a sure thing that Sam Fender will take his rightful crown – as soon as the world lets him – with the colossal ‘Seventeen Going Under’. “It’s going to be a hell of a return,” he insists. “I know the fans are still there, you know? So I’m not really worried – I’m ready to go out there and do my thing. Finally!”

[xenowlsome]

Hi Xen! It's been a while, but I'd like you to do a full interview on "If I Forget Thee, Jerusalem" fic - so all the questions from the ask game, bc I'm starved for Ivanhoe content

Greetings, anon! I'm sorry I left you hanging in the Ivanhoe void :,)

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

I conjured the fic in my head while half asleep at 12am... Everyone does it, right?

2: What scene did you first put down?

not a scene per se because the fic is short, but:

«The Templar half-closed his eyes, as if trying to recall the image of the city to his mind. For a moment, his face was still as a mask, void of its usual passions. "It is like any city in Palestine. Full of sand, loud, unbearably hot in the summer." Bois-Guilbert opened his eyes again, but his gaze was far away still. "It is beautiful beyond words."»

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

«There will not be another Nehemyah nor another Miriam in our lifetime, and it will not be you. Truly, it is past time for you to leave such games.»

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

«"I would have thought that never having something, even in longing, is easier to bear than having and losing it."

"But we had it. We built it."»

5: What part was hardest to write?

Probably the whole discussion about Israel and who it belongs to and who has a right to it because it's still an issue irl and I wanted to be considerate while also keeping it realistic to the 12th century (much thanks to @aegor-bamfsteel for his indispensable help!)

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

It's my first fic... It will always be special

7: Where did the title come from?

It's a line from the Psalm 137 ("By the rivers of Babylon..."); it was just too fitting to pass it over

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

not that I can remember now

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

nope!

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

r x b are the otp to rule all of my otps

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I think I managed to capture the slightly antiquated language feel without sliding into the pseudo-medieval parody that Scott ended up with (sorry buddy)

12: What do you like least about this fic?

It's too short. where's the rest op

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

Didn't listen to anything but: Ofra Haza - Yerushalaim shel Zahav

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

uhhhh no idea. I wrote only for the feelings (my proudest accomplishment is that someone added the russian version to a collection named "eating glass")

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

WHOA I CAN WRITE??

[somethingwritey]

my writing samples!

if you’re interested in commissioning my work (or you just like reading excerpts), i’ve taken some time to prepare writing samples! 

more commission information can be found here or you can private message me for further questions! 

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💖 dramatic

this is an excerpt from a rangi/kyoshi one-shot i did recently: 

Rangi’s exhalation is loud in Kyoshi’s head, but perhaps almost silent in the world. “I used to see you guys around the mansion,” she confesses. “I would… watch you two. It was my duty, of course, to watch him. But not you.”

This isn’t exactly news to Kyoshi. Rangi has spent lifetimes saving her from herself and the world. Her bodyguard before she knew she needed one.

“I know.”

“You wanna know what I thought?” Rangi shakes her head, a strangled bit of laughter escaping her lips. “When I saw the way he’d admire you? I thought… The Avatar and his servant… what a pathetically tragic way to love. So caught up in the power imbalance of it all.” 

“Rangi -”

“And then,” Rangi stares up at the sky now, squinting into the brightness of it all. “I fell right into it myself. Only you’re not the servant, Kyoshi. You’ve never been the servant. It’s me. In love with the great and powerful Avatar. Hopelessly and endlessly lost in the difference between duty and pleasure.” 

That is absolutely wrong. If nothing else, Kyoshi knows that. “You’re not.”

“In love with you?”

No. That’s probably true, even if Kyoshi still doesn’t know why.

“You’re not my servant. You’ve never been, and you never will be.” 

Rangi finally meets her gaze, and Kyoshi is surprised to see a glassiness there, reflecting in the bronze of her irises. She reaches out and runs a hand along the girl’s jawline, gently tracing every scar, every ghost of pain.

“Whoever made me the Avatar was really, really stupid,” she whispers. “You would’ve made a better one.”

“I’m not Earth Kingdom.”

“I don’t care.” Kyoshi knows how the cycle works. And she still thinks the Era of Rangi would outshine any past or future Avatar.

----

💖 comedic/light-hearted

 this is an excerpt from a jay/carlos de vil one-shot: 

“You have a crush?”

Carlos whipped around, staring at Jay who had just come up the stairs. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

“Uh -” Jay blinked, pointing down the stairs. “Downstairs? Look, someone said you go ... oh, you found a friend.” His gaze fell on the cat.

“He’s my new best friend.” Carlos was only half joking. “You’ve been demoted.”

Jay feigned hurt for a moment. On the whole, he didn’t look as drunk as Carlos would’ve expected. “So, this crush of yours,” he said at last. “Is he the reason you agreed to come?”

The irony wasn’t lost on Carlos, and if he weren’t too busy wishing the earth would swallow him whole, he might’ve laughed. “Uh - I don’t -”

“Come on,” Jay laughed. “I won’t tell anyone. Not even Mal. What’s he like?”

Carlos made a face. “The one time you’re not hammered at a party, huh? Just my luck.”

Jay shook his head. “Come on, man! Just give me a hint!” 

Carlos mimed zipping his lips. 

Jay is here. With you, his brain whispered unhelpfully. Not downstairs. Maybe you have a chance. 

Jay smiled, oddly genuine. “I get that parties aren’t your thing, ‘Los. Must be one hell of a guy if he’s worth all this.”

“Yeah, well,” Carlos mumbled, picking at a spot on the carpet. “He looks cute when he says please.”

----

💖 alternate universe/timeline adjustment 

this is a sneak peak of an unpublished equalist!asami/korra fic that i’m currently working on :) so stay tuned for more of this: 

“Miss Sato,” a voice called from beyond the reinforced door. “You have a visitor.”

Her father, surely! Or one of his associates. But when door slid open and someone stepped inside, it wasn’t Hiroshi.

Asami turned towards the wall. “I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Asami, wait.” Korra didn’t try to get any closer. “I just -” 

“Just what?” Asami muttered. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Wanted to see me put away? Make sure they’d gotten the right girl? A non-bender standing on the sidewalk at night is so dangerous, see. Glad you’ve got the police force cracking down on the issue.” 

She could feel Korra’s frustration and revelled in it. She liked being able to get to Korra. 

“No! That’s not! Ugh!” Korra paced, her footsteps heavy. “I don’t have much time! I just wanted to ask you to meet me! Away from anyone listening! Under the Silk Road Bridge.” 

“I’d love to, but you see,” Asami gestured around her cell. She still hadn’t dropped the cynical act. “I’m kinda busy at the moment.” 

“Your father is already trying to buy your way out,” Korra told her. “You’ll be released before most of Republic City wakes up. I know you, Asami. You wouldn’t… you’re not -” 

“Not what, Korra?” Asami finally looked at her. Hard. “Like the rest of the non-benders? One of the good ones?” 

“You betrayed us!” 

“And you couldn’t save those people from being rounded up like animals!” 

Korra opened her mouth, but no words came out. She threw back her head in frustration. “Fine! I’ll leave you alone! But tonight, at midnight, I’ll be under that bridge. I hope you will be, too. I just want to talk.”  

-----

💖 angst/pining

this is an excerpt from a casey/izzie fic: 

Casey couldn’t breathe. 

She was used to the breathlessness that came with running, the burning and tightening of her lungs as she demanded more from them. But when her feet skimmed across the pavement, racing, racing, like her heartbeat, it didn’t scare her. Rather, she relished it, craved it. The way her whole body felt alive, how she could feel every tingle in her arms and legs, how everything seems to still and grow quiet around her - she loved it. 

This was different. 

Her vision tunneled, entirely swallowed by Izzie and the boy in the corner who had his tongue in her mouth. The people around her suddenly felt too close and the music too loud. She wished she had Sam’s noise canceling headphones. 

Casey wasn’t even trying to inhale anymore as she stared, watching the girl whose lips she’d taken a chance on kiss a boy - a stranger. She could feel her chest burning, could feel the rest of her body screaming at her to take a breath, to do something. But she couldn’t. She could only stare until the need for air became too much.

She gasped, her feet moving against her will. The room smelled like too much weed, stinging her eyes and nose. Casey began to back towards the door.

It wasn’t that she was heartbroken; no, she knew what heartbreak felt like, and right now, that space was occupied by Evan. 

This was on her. She’d decided to break off something good and consistent and wonderful to chase after someone who played hot and cold like Evan played video games. She had no one to blame but the person in the mirror. 

Somehow, after being jostled around by several other bodies, she made it to the hallway. It was quiet, thankfully, the noise of the party muffled to the pulsing of the base inside the hotel room where she knew Izzie was still liplocked with that tall stranger. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

How could she have thrown away something so good for this? 

She wanted to go back to being normal; to the time when she looked at Evan’s eyes and didn’t see Izzie’s reflecting back at her.

-----

💖 hurt/comfort 

this is an excerpt from a nico minoru/karolina dean fic: 

“You’re still glowing.” The words came out low. Nico’s eyes flicked up and down her girlfriend’s illuminated body, taking it all in. She knew Karolina could control her light now, which could only mean one thing.

“I wanted you to see it,” Karolina admitted, ducking her head. Now that Nico’s eyes were open, she could see just how much fear flickered behind Karolina’s warm glow. She had removed her arms from Nico now and twisted her hands together in front of herself anxiously. “I needed you to see it.”

Nico swallowed hard, unable to pull her eyes away. The light brought so many emotions flooding back. The first time she’d seen Karo glow. Early nights at the Hostel when the power would short out and Karolina walked around like a glowing flashlight. All the times Nico ran her hands down her hips and kissed her neck and watched her glow brighter than all the stars in the sky. 

“I see it,” Nico promised. 

“You’re not scary,” was Karolina’s response.

They were words Nico had said many times to Karolina, but never had anyone said them to her. 

“Then why am I… like this?”

“Nico.” Karolina shook her head. “Your darkness isn’t evil. It just… is. And I know you can master your magic without the Staff. You’re more than its power.” 

“Am I?” Nico didn’t know what she was. She’d been trying to figure it out for a lot longer than she cared to admit. 

She was the Dead Girl’s Sister. She was That Goth Bitch. She was a loner, an outcast, a freak.

“You’re Nico Minoru,” Karolina said quietly. “And that’s… that’s enough.”

----

💖 fluff

this mal/evie moment is an excerpt from longer fic titled In Loco Parentis:  

Evie had really outdone herself. She’d managed to put together a figure cutting, sapphire satin dress that fell off the shoulders in the most tasteful way possible. With her dark makeup and striking updo, Evie could’ve passed as at least twenty-five. And Mal had never wanted to kiss her more.

“I’m proud of you,” Mal said during a quiet moment, rubbing the other girl’s shoulders gently. “You look great. You did good.”

“Well,” Evie laughed, tipping her head back. “I did well.” 

“Whatever, princess.” Mal’s voice had gone soft, her chin resting on Evie’s shoulder. Unable to help herself, she pressed a gentle kiss there, glancing up to see if she’d overstepped. But Evie didn’t look upset; on the contrary, her eyes were wide and her cheeks pink.

“So that’s what it’s like when a girl kisses you,” she breathed, tucking Mal’s hair behind her ear.

“Believe me,” Mal purred. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” She waited for Evie to correct her grammar again, but instead, the girl pulled Mal gently out from behind her, capturing Mal’s lips with her own. 

And just like that, Evie was kissing her.

“You’ve got lipstick on your face,” Evie whispered as she pulled away, doing her best to wipe it off.

“I don’t care.”

“I can’t fail you today.” Evie tugged at the hem of her dress, sighing. “I can’t. Mal, this means so much to you.”

But for the first time in a very, very long time, revenge on her mother was the last thing on Mal’s mind. Evie’s eyes and lips and voice took up all the space, blooming in her chest. “You can’t fail me,” she promised.

And that was the sheer and utter truth.

-----

💖 single character-centric

this is an excerpt from a catra-centric exploration:  

She’s lost count of the nail marks. 

When Hordak first threw her in this cell, Catra resolved to count every single tally Shadow Weaver left on the walls. But now that she’s fifty-two marks in - or maybe fifty-three? - her determination is beginning to waver. 

She also doesn’t remember Shadow Weaver being locked up for fifty days. Maybe the nail marks don’t represent days at all - or maybe the old lady is as crazy as she is evil. 

Lowering her gaze to the green glowing shackles around her hands, Catra tries - not for the first time - to wriggle out of them. Their buzzing is growing increasingly irritating.

How dare Shadow Weaver leave? Did she stop to think what would happen to Catra? Did it even cross her mind that she might be thrown in this cell as her replacement? Or maybe she did and just didn’t care? 

Catra’s face twists in a grim smile. Of course her own fate hasn’t given Shadow Weaver any pause. She got what she wanted.

She tries to think back, to find the place where she went wrong - a single moment she can pinpoint where her plans went to shit. But the pieces just don’t fit. Nothing adds up. 

Because Catra has done everything right. She’s climbed the ranks. She’s done her job well. She’s accomplished everything Adora could have and more. She’s surpassed even Shadow Weaver’s authority! 

And yet, here she is. In chains. Awaiting punishment. 

Adora always comes out on top. Hasn’t that been beaten into her since day one? Adora gets to walk away unharmed, with her new best friends and glowing hair. Adora gets Shadow Weaver, despite being a defector, a traitor, a failure! 

I would’ve stayed for you.  

Catra kicks out with her back foot and pushes away the tray someone delivered to her earlier. She’s not that hungry anyway - and certainly not for brown ration bars. 

The tray makes a satisfying clatter as it skids across the floor, and Catra bares her teeth in a halfway smile. If she’s going down, she’s going to go down fighting. She’ll make it as difficult and as painful for Hordak as she can - right until the very end.

-----

💖 second person

this is an excerpt from a summer/tessa fic i wrote by request: 

She’s happy now, you know. 

She’s brighter and happier and just really fucking in love. 

You can see it. You can hear it in the way she talks and the way her eyes light up when she walks into the room. You notice how she perks up when her name is dropped during casual conversation and how she makes a point of talking about her at every possible offhanded moment.

And honestly, you’re happy, too. You’re happy for her. You’re happy for them. Because they’re just so cute, and everyone says so. 

And if you notice that Tessa is wearing her sweater - the one you used to wear because it made her mad and got those sparkling eyes to fix on you for just a few more seconds -  you don’t say anything. 

Because it wasn’t like the sweater belonged to you or was anything other than a polyester cardigan with a small hole in the elbow. 

It’s not like when you draped it over your shoulders, she would roll her eyes and grumble and demand you give it back. Your heart wouldn’t jump, and your mind wouldn’t rush with the adrenaline that came with shooting a snarky response. 

It’s not like you memorized the way she used to scoff - that sound in the back of her throat - or how she’d wave her hand dismissively while you wondered what it would be like to hold it and never let go.

 It’s not like you’ve ever wanted anything from her - attention or otherwise. 

It’s not like that sweater gave you an excuse to touch her shoulders, to catch a whiff of her perfume, to pretend the old sleeves were a good substitute for her arms. 

When words finally do form in your mouth, they’re not the ones you want to say. They’re snarky or sarcastic or snide. They’re perfectly in-character for you, the airhead, the fair-weather friend, or just The Bitch. 

Plain and simple. Easy to categorize and even easier to overlook. 

You won’t think about what it feels like to hug her or how comforting it is to rest your head on her shoulder for those brief, world-stopping seconds - so close you can smell her shampoo and whatever else she uses to make those curls behave themselves. Those moments are meant to be locked away, to be kept safe, where they can’t become anything they shouldn’t. Because the two of you have come so far, but nowhere near far enough. 

Yeah, you’re not my type. 

It’s confirmation of a dead end.

-----

if any of these pieces catch your eye and you want one of your own, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me! i’m in the process of working on some really cool commissions right now, and i’m more than happy to add yours to the mix!

♡  ♡  ♡

[buckybarnesbingo]

Titles Game

Tonight I'm Going Back to My Old Ways - suggested by @steverogersnotebook

@somesortofitalianroast - Bucky didn’t usually go for straight guys. Not since Brock in college, anyway. But tonight, all he could see was the blond across the bar. He was laughing with his friends, and he was gorgeous. Muscles for days, a body Bucky wanted to climb like a tree, and a wonderful smile that was a combination of Hallmark wholesome and downright dirty that shouldn’t have worked, but did. The piercing blue eyes just sealed the deal: Bucky was going to get him in his bed. (there would definitely be a tag in there about how they need to communicate and how Steve's not straight)

@wolfnprey - Bucky had settled down after he started a family. Everything told him he didn't deserve happiness, but he was beyond listening. Until some old ghosts showed up. Literal ghosts, and they were hellbent on making sure Bucky's life was upended. He'd buried the necronamicon in the basement ten years ago, but now he was digging it up with the help of his old partner. If only Steve was forgiving.

@steverogersnotebook - (Early recovering Bucky) finds it hard to come to terms with the modern Brooklyn, seeks out night clubs and smokes like a chimney in an effort to feel the way he remembers feeling.

@ribbonsflyingoutthewindow - Their relationship had been strained in a way that Bucky was pretty sure couple's therapy couldn't fix. Not that he had tried. He wasn't about to unload all of his trauma concerning not being his old self anymore on some poor middle-aged Brooklynite mother of three even if she did have a degree that supposedly helped. There was no way she was prepared to help a brainwashed assassin with a fault list from Coney Island to hell and back again. So instead he'd unloaded all of that on Natasha. As a best friend, she was legally obligated to listen to him anyway. And besides, she was cheaper; she could be bought with a whine and a wine. However, talking to Natasha also meant he got the cold, hard truth that his relationship was suffering not because he'd forgotten who he was and became a brainwashed assassin for decades, but because he'd forgotten who Steve was and hadn't spent a lot of time figuring it out again. So per his therapist's (Natasha's, whatever) advice, Bucky's getting back to his roots and rebecoming the man who knew everything about Steve Rogers and hoping that maybe somewhere along the line, he can figure out what it was that made the two of them work so perfectly together.

More under the cut!

Down the rabbit hole - suggested by @liquidlightz

@phoenixgryphon - MCU Nat going down the rabbit hole that is pre Cap2 TWS information

@steverogersnotebook - An edgy Alice AU where bucky meets the OUAT version of the mad hatter.

@somesortofitalianroast - Bucky wasn’t sure how, but he was constantly seeing the same figure out of the corner of his eye. A tall, muscular blonde, who seemed as though he wasn’t quite there, which was why Bucky was sure he was imagining the man, or confusing multiple tall muscular blonds. They weren’t as uncommon as one would think, and Bucky was so tired, so he decided not to worry about the blond. Until the day he literally fell down a rabbit hole - in Brooklyn, of all places - and ended up in another version of New York.

@wolfnprey -  Stripper AU. Nat drags Bucky to Down the Rabbit Hole for a particular stripper named Alice who is a beefy blond with bright blue eyes.

@bookdragon13 - Or alternatively: Steve goes to Storybrooke during his quest to find Bucky and meets Jefferson. Steve immediately goes “Bucky?” And Jefferson, in his sassy way, says “who the hell is Bucky?” But proceeds to use his hat to help Steve find his Bucky, if only to meet his lookalike Whether or not this becomes angsty, I’m not sure

@psychiccatpanda - Bucky In the 21st Century:  After spending too much time on the internet trying to figure out what some of the things he’d been hearing about really were, Bucky wishes he’d trusted Tony when he said, “Snowflake, there’s whole swaths of the interwebs you don’t want to know.  Trust me, please?”  Now, six and a half hours later, he knew that there was Avengers fan fiction (and what that consisted of) and Avengers cosplay porn.  He wasn’t sure what to do with this information.  But maybe he just needed to do some more research. After a snack.

@liquidlightz - Alpine was very protective.  Bucky loved gardening and he'd planted many different flowers, but there was a fat rabbit that kept popping by and eating all the best tulips, daylilies, you name it.  Bucky was hesitant to harm the creature, but Alpine was having no more of it.  She chased said rabbit down its hole and Bucky had to dig her back out.

@ribbonsflyingoutthewindow - Bucky’s family owned a farm so he'd had a plethora of pets his entire life, but when he'd moved to the big city, Bucky had stuffed Top Hat the white rabbit in her carrier and told her they were headed for the adventure of a lifetime, no looking back. And truth be told, sometimes New York was lonely. But the other truth was he didn't miss Indiana at all. He loved New York, but he'd never regretted his move more than the day he came home to discover Top Hat not in her enclosure. He had to go door to door on the entire floor and maybe the floor above and below his. Everyone had to help find his missing long-eared, fluffy-tailed best friend. Cue everyone in Bucky's apartment complex searching the entire building for one white rabbit trying to pull her own disappearing act. And cue Bucky searching for a rabbit, but finding maybe a little more along the way.

You pull hope from defeat in the night - suggested by @somesortofitalianroast

@steverogersnotebook - After a terrible loss on a mission, Bucky and [strained relationship/preferred pairing] are nearly wiped out themselves. One has to get out and get help for the other before it's too late for them too. In dragging the injured party to safety, promises made in supplication reignite hope for a resolution.

@somesortofitalianroast - (pre-serum!steve/Winter Soldier!Bucky) After exhausting missions, there’s nothing Steve likes better than hooking up with a guy at a bar, preferably one who would believe him when he said he wouldn’t break. Tonight, he chose the guy carefully, a big, beefy brunet with thighs for days and something about him that made him look gentle. One night turned into another. And another. And another…. Who said hookups couldn’t lead to love?

@bookdragon13 - Just when Bucky was feeling his lowest, walking around Brooklyn at night, he hears a faint meowing. Bucky finds the white kitten and takes it to the local vet. Afterwards, he couldn’t just leave the white fur ball behind, adopting her and giving her the name Alpine. With Alpine around, Bucky couldn’t help but start feeling like he could climb out of the hole he’d dug himself in. He can’t help but laugh at Alpine’s antics and when he’s having a bad day, she cuddles with Bucky as he rubs his fingers through her fur

@liquidlightz - Bucky had written off more cheques than his body could cash, yet again.  Losing badly at poker and getting beaten down for failing to pay up.  This night was turning out better than the last, as he found himself in the hands of a gorgeous Doctor with gentle hands who seemed to enjoy his attempts at flirting through bloodied teeth.  Things might be looking up, he was going to go all in and take another chance tonight.

@wolfarrowepz - (Winterhawk, hockey AU)The Avengers were eliminated in the second round of the playoffs.... less than a third of the team had been with them when they won the championship 3 years ago. Now all Bucky wants to do is go home and sulk and ice his knee in peace. Clint has decided he needs to come to dinner with the team to show all the rookies and new guys to show them that losing isn't the end of the world. Fuck it all if Bucky will do whatever Clint asks. Bucky he liked him since they joined the team together as rookies. Clint is 100% oblivious to every move Bucky makes but if Clint asks him to do something he will. Clint on the other hand is convinced Bucky isn't into him. Cue pining and the inevitable "of course I Like you, you dope!" moment.

With Steel and Silver Burning Heart - suggested by @ibelieveinturtles

@steverogersnotebook - Dragon trainer AU, Steve goes to slay the dragon, Bucky's the dragon trainer. They meet, they clash, they enemies to friends to lovers.

@phoenixgryphon - big beefy bucky the blacksmith.  who builds broadswords to bring in the bills

@somesortofitalianroast - (Regency!AU) James Barnes was well aware that he was the Marquis of Buchannan in name only. With no money left in the estates coiffers and three younger sisters - the oldest a mere year before her official debut - to support, he was desperate. Desperate enough to approach the new Duke of Brooklyn - a known rake with a history of getting in duels - with an offer: he supplies the cash for Rebecca’s debutante and in return, he gets James. But what happens when the purely financial relationship is no longer purely financial?

@liquidlightz - Bucky was not amused when the blade pierced his heart.  Fuck, that hurt! "You asshole", he berated his not-looking-so-hot-now date on the other end of that dagger, "I thought we were having a good time." Bucky had to thank his lucky stars, and not his wits, that this hunter was a moron and that blade was cheap metal and not silver.  He should, maybe, start being a little more discerning in his hookups.

@bookdragon13 - As a Knight of the Realm, Bucky was sworn to protect the royal family. He didn’t mean to fall in love with the Princess in the process. Neither did Bucky realize he was a jealous man, until he saw another knight, Brock, try to kiss the Princess, with her unwilling. Bucky immediately called Brock out, challenging him to a duel. When Brock was wounded, Bucky threatened that if Brock tried anything with Her Royal Highness again, he wouldn’t be so lenient.

[queenangst]

A Collection of Fic Prompts

These are all genfic/non-romantic fic ideas that I (and some of my friends) came up with in a game where I write a summary for a fake fic title. Some titles have multiple summaries. You can view my tag ‘fake fic asks’ to view the original asks. 

My blanket permissions for prompts apply: Please credit and link me on Tumblr (@queenangst)/on AO3 (achievingelysium). If possible, link to this post/original post. Feel free to use these as prompts or inspiration for any creative work such as fic or art, and feel free to adjust or adapt them to your liking. I’d love to see them!

Please reblog if you like these!

I may end up using some of these in the future (marked with * if you’re interested), but all of the prompts are free for you to use if you’re interested. 

Below the cut is a categorized list of the summaries, by characters/themes, including: 

All Might, Izuku, OFA, and AFO

Midoriya Hisashi/Dad for One

Shimura Nana

Quirklessness

Aizawa, Present Mic, and Shirakumo

Teachers

Dekusquad

Izuku & Bakugou

Izuku

Bakugou

Todoroki Family/Dabi

Eri

Class 1-A

Misc.

All Might, Izuku, OFA, and AFO 

Once Upon a Time

Quirk reversal canon rewrite AU. All Might is a hero with a mysterious Quirk: one that can take and give away Quirks at will. With this Quirk and multiple Quirks given willingly, All Might defeats villains easily. When he meets the strong-willed Midoriya Izuku, he offers Izuku a Quirk and a chance to be a hero.

One for All has been searching for a successor—and his brother’s Quirk, All for One—and finds one in the volatile Shimura Tenko, now Shigaraki. Combined with the power of Decay, Shigaraki’s new Quirk can level mountains and destroy cities.

Izuku has always wanted to be a hero. With a new Quirk and a new enemy, he can be.

Shatter the Sun

All Might walks into a fight he doesn’t expect to come back from. Fueled by rage and grief, he ignores every warning Nighteye has given him and takes down the villain who killed his predecessor… All for One.

All Might limps out of a fight he hadn’t expected to come back from. He defeated his enemy, but it comes with a cost.

And then he wakes up again on the same day, All for One still waiting for him. Each time All Might defeats him. Each time the day restarts. Again and again. All Might had been prepared to fight All for One for the rest of his life, but this is something entirely different.

i’ve been found (but i’m still lost in the morning)

When Toshinori passes on the torch to his successor, he only wishes Nana were there to see it. When Izuku begins dreaming of the past wielders, he begins to feel the weight of the legacy he carries on.

All for One may be gone, but in the wake of his defeat, both Izuku and Toshinori struggle to find their place in heroism and at home.

Cross the Delta

All Might takes Izuku on a road trip in America, and their relationship deepens from mentor and student to father and son.

if only you'd listened

When Izuku complains of headaches and strange dreams, Toshinori doesn’t think much of it beyond offering what comfort he can and painkillers. After all, it’s exam season, and his students are stressed; the common room is loaded with energy drinks and textbooks alike. Izuku also confides he thinks there’s something wrong with his Quirk, but having unlocked two more, Toshinori is under the belief Izuku is simply adjusting.

Then Izuku starts sleepwalking, sometimes with One for All. And there’s the time he almost doesn’t wake up at all, and when he finally wakes up he doesn’t seem like he has control of himself.

Because the closer Izuku has been getting to One for All, a connection has been forming with its other half—with Toshinori’s greatest enemy, All for One.

kiss your fist and touch the sky

After his retirement, All Might is no longer the hero he used to be. But Class 1-A still seems to think so, and quietly All Might begins to learn how to save people in smaller ways.

lead me down the styx

OFA!AU. When Nana dies, a piece of her remains within One for All—just as the other holders have before her. Every time a holder comes close to death, they see their predecessors.

All Might sees his mentor again in dreams a few times, but he thinks they’re just that: dreams. The first time Izuku sees the ghosts of One for All, he’s just nearly broken himself beyond repair. The next time is when he takes a hit meant for someone else. After the next Izuku realizes there’s a pattern, that the ghosts he sees out of the corner of his eye are real and getting stronger, and there’s something they want to tell him.

I Have No Plans to Die Today

Alternating POV. Half is All Might desperately trying to hold on to the remains of OFA as he fights AFO because after all these years he finally has things to live for again. Half is Bakugou trying to escape his captors, not knowing if anyone’s going to rescue him, equally desperate to fulfill his dream of becoming a Hero (from @happi-tree​).

Your Heart In Your Hands

In a world where every year on the day you first meet you see a vision of you and your soulmate’s future together, Izuku and All Might meet under a bridge—and Izuku begins to see a future where he can be a hero.

Bonus notes from my tags: #pl bkdk soulmates bk was scared of the future #tho the future vision is limited i think so bkdk doesnt see anything after ua until after dk meets am #bc that future wasnt quite set in stone

The Aftermath

All Might wakes up in a hospital alone. He has lost his stomach, though perhaps more painfully, his most trusted advisor and sidekick. He has nothing, and no one. And his time with One for All dwindles.

But he keeps going—and meets one Midoriya Izuku.

A story told backwards in six parts, from loving Izuku to meeting him to those lonely years before.

Once Upon a Time

Fantasy AU. The Tale of Two Brothers is known throughout the kingdom, a myth passed down through the generations to explain why Magicks exist. No one expects the story itself to be true, least of all a young Magickless boy on the run from his tormentors. But now? Well, now, Midoriya Izuku knows differently (from @happi-tree​). 

Midoriya Hisashi/Dad for One

But That Was So Long Ago*

Time can’t erase an absence, a person who was never there. Ten years after Midoriya Hisashi goes overseas for business, he re-enters Izuku’s life—not just as a father, but as a vigilante, chasing a lead for a villain with connections to the League. Working with Hellhound, who can manipulate fire and smoke, Izuku begins to notice his new ally’s strange similarities to the father he’s constantly arguing with at home.

You know what family means to me, Hisashi? Resentment

Midoriya Hisashi drags his son Izuku on a short surprise trip to America, where Izuku is separated from his friends as Hisashi teaches him about his business. Izuku is left miserable and angry about the life Hisashi is trying to force him into. What’s meant to be family bonding and their already fragile relationship quickly falls apart, and all Izuku wants is to go home.

Eternal Slumber

In his second year, Izuku and All for One begin to share dreams. Izuku’s afraid All for One is both the person he thought and not, and they seem to share more similarities than Izuku expected.

A Dad For One fic.

In the Flesh*

Right after Izuku enters U.A., Midoriya Hisashi abruptly returns from business overseas, taking an interest in his son’s new Quirk and committing himself to his family again after years apart. Izuku feels uncomfortable with the stranger he calls “Dad,” but stays quiet seeing how happy his mom is when he’s home.

Yet as the school year progresses, Hisashi’s story seems to have different holes. Research into his dad’s business leaves Izuku with dead, outdated links; any questions Izuku asks about work go unanswered; and still Hisashi presses Izuku about his Quirk, driving a wedge between them.

Hisashi’s Quirk is fire breathing—but Izuku accidentally discovers he has a levitation Quirk, too, and more after that. A breakthrough in research connects Hisashi to the address of an old, run-down bar. And a story Izuku’s mentor All Might tells him, of a villain who can take other people’s Quirks, leads Izuku home again, to one Midoriya Hisashi.

Shimura Nana

Oddity Amidst Time

Shigaraki travels back in time and meets his grandmother, Shimura Nana.

Remembrance

Nana’s legacy is a line of death that becomes before her and goes on after her. But what if things were different?

When Nana fights All for One, she wins. Still, the danger of All for One’s lasting influence remains, so Nana makes the decision to leave her son alone as she continues to fight villains and train Toshinori into the Symbol of Peace he wants to be.

Kotaro is the only regret Nana’s ever had. She spends her days wondering what might have been until she meets two siblings who share her smile—and her last name.

if i die young

At the end of his life, Gran Torino gets a chance to travel back in time to when Nana still lived, and the two of them have a conversation about life and loss.

Quirklessness

Out of the Fire

Izuku reflects on how many micro aggressions he dealt with as a quirkless person that evaporated with OFA (from @wildinkling​).

You get used to things, even if sometimes you shouldn't

All Might has carried One for All for a lifetime, and he’s nearly forgotten what it was like to be Quirkless, much less understanding how different Quirklessness is treated in society today. After Izuku confides about what his childhood was like and now navigating life after being a pro hero, All Might begins to spend more time looking for ways to help Quirkless youth feel less alone, fighting a villain of a different kind.

Do Not Go Gentle*

When pro hero—and Eri’s big brother—Deku saves her and sustains life-threatening injuries, Eri does the only thing she can think of. In desperation, she pushes her power and rewinds him, leaving Deku not only young but Quirkless again.

For Years I Have

Midoriya Inko, and coming to terms with a not-Quirkless son, her love and fears for him, and the mistakes she’s made.

Battles are First Lost in the Mind

At fourteen, Midoriya Izuku gives up on his dream of being a hero. He puts away his notebooks and resigns himself to a quiet, Quirkless life.

Four years later and as a new graduate from U.A., Kacchan swallows his pride, apologizes, and asks Izuku for help taking down the villain Shigaraki, hoping Izuku’s analytical skills can turn the tide.

Izuku isn’t sure, but in the end agrees; and four years after giving up he’s presented with his dreams in reach and an entire former class telling him he can be a hero.

changing the subject again and bite your tongue (until it bleeds)*

Midoriya Izuku never talks about being Quirkless, or about Quirklessness. No one would understand it. No one wants to try. The topic rarely comes up, until a new semester begins and there’s talk of a new, Quirkless student in Gen Ed looking to transfer into the Hero Course.

Then Quirklessness is all anyone wants to talk about. Now something Izuku can’t avoid, he struggles to deal with his own past, the piece of his trust he hasn’t extended to his friends, and a look into a life that might have been his.

Aizawa, Present Mic, and Shirakumo

when there’s blood in my ears, i’ll hold you closer

Present Mic had always had a rough time controlling his quirk. The day he finds out about Oboro, he slips. Aizawa is always there to comfort him (from @tolerantbean​).

It’s getting hard to breathe under here with you, my dearest nemesis

The villain Present Mic has a Quirk that could level buildings and cause a lot of destruction. The hero Eraserhead is one of the few people, if not the only person, who can stop him.

At the end of the day, Hizashi and Shouta are best friends, carefully tending to each other’s wounds and never speaking of either heroes or villains. Until a bigger problem forces them to work together.

an empty mirror only shows what's left inside*

Time loop AU. A few days after Shirakumo’s death, Shouta wakes up to find his best friend is alive again. Time has reset—and now Shouta finds himself racing to save Shirakumo this time.

It doesn’t work. Days pass. And the loop starts again.

A mystery forms in the pieces of a strange doctor, a missing body, and discrepancies in the local newspaper. As Shouta fails again and again to save Shirakumo, he must try to figure out why he’s caught in a time loop… and what seems to be happening to Shirakumo after his death.

Come Around (Your Song is Calling)

Hizashi has always known that he and his best friend Shouta are soulmates. It’s why they work. It’s why Hizashi can see the glittering thread that ties them together when no one else can, and in the deep silence when he touches it he hears music.

Shouta goes missing. The bond goes silent. But Hizashi refuses to give up on his friend—not now, and not ever.

shades of blue*

After graduating, Aizawa Shouta isn’t where he wants to be. His decision to go underground is a lot different than most of his peers, and with everyone busy planning debuts and looking for agencies, Shouta feels isolated. The reminder that Oboro doesn’t get to be a hero follows him, yet at the same time the Hero Commission sends Shouta somewhere his Quirk and his youth will be useful—to help infiltrate and take down an illegal Quirk fighting ring.

Unable to confide in Hizashi about the mission or his struggles, Shouta continues to work alone, distance straining his relationships. Pitted against kids only a few years younger than him, each of whom begins to remind Shouta of Oboro, and fighting to keep his head above water, Shouta must keep his secrets close to him or lose it all.

they’ll think of me kindly

It’s easier to think of society in black in white, in heroes and villains. But Aizawa Shouta doesn’t do easy, and Kurogiri—Shirakumo Oboro—certainly isn’t making things any better. In a bid for information and to return Kurogiri to the person he once was, the investigation team brings in a specialist with a Quirk that allows for two people to be temporarily joined mind-to-mind. To experience each other’s thoughts, emotions, and memories with the danger of losing themselves.

Shouta’s scared if he goes in he won’t come back, but he’s also desperate to reconnect with the friend he’s convinced is still in there. Kurogiri consents to the connection. And after deliberation, Shouta does, too.

Together, they’re not just hero and villain, but somewhere in between as Shouta looks for the memories that have been hidden from Kurogiri and relives a few of his own.

Teachers

to die like a martyr (is no way to live)

All Might is beginning to learn to live again, redefining a path of self-destruction after retirement and meeting Midoriya, when he sees his co-worker and friend Aizawa heading down the same lonely path he was on. Reaching out, All Might and Aizawa form a friendship and struggle together so they may continue to teach their students, and to live as people and not just heroes.

Dekusquad

holding you up (while the world crashes down)

Five times Izuku comforted his friends, and one time they comforted him.

Izuku & Bakugou/Platonic BKDK

Do No Harm

Bakugou goes missing when he’s seven. Years later, Izuku still believes he’s alive and out there.

He is—as a Nomu that falters when Izuku recognizes him and calls him “Kacchan.”

for you know my demons, and i know yours*

Izuku and Katsuki parted ways after a mission gone south a long time ago and their relationship soured, but that doesn’t mean that they’re not still drift compatible. A Pacific Rim AU.

let’s start with the past in front

Pro heroes Ground Zero and Deku are sent back in time to when they weren’t the friends they are now, forced to deal with conversations they never had, their younger selves’ broken relationship, while looking for a way home.

Memories of the Dead

Midoriya Izuku’s funeral is held in the summer. They bury an empty casket and look around at all the faces who have outlived him.

Katsuki goes. There’s a lot of reasons he attends Deku’s funeral—for Auntie Inko, for All Might, for Deku himself. Katsuki was the last to see him alive. They’d shared breakfast the same day Deku disappeared.

But Katsuki doesn’t go to Deku’s funeral because he’s dead. Katsuki goes with the hope and gut feeling that he’s alive.

Izuku

Your Claws Rend Flesh

Midoriya Izuku has never been allowed to stay out past sundown. He always comes home early to his mother, the only person who he won’t hurt when he transforms into a monstrous beast.

His new Quirk and U.A. complicate things, to say the least.

Bonus notes: There’s a reason why Inko is so protective of her son, and resistant to him being a hero.

can you hear me?

Izuku, a few years after his pro hero debut, lands himself an injury that keeps from work for a while. Seeing Izuku unsure of what to do, the Wild, Wild Pussycats invite him to spend summer on their property in the woods to recover and recuperate; and, of course, as an excuse for Kouta to see his hero.

He’s happy to slow down, spending time learning to take care of himself, and to enjoy the woods. As he gets his strength back, he hikes often with Kouta, until one day they’re separated when a storm hits. With only a set of walkie talkies connecting them, the two struggle to find each other and shelter, before anything worse happens.

5% luck, 20% skill

Principal Nezu takes on Izuku as a student.

Bakugou

Out of the Fire 

Bakugou as Gordon Ramsey... (from @aizawa-wears-crocs​). 

Snap

Katsuki is hit with a Quirk that dulls physical and emotional feelings. At first it seems fairly harmless to his friends, until he gets hurt and his reaction is much different than anyone expects.  

lead me down the road less traveled

When he’s young, Bakugou Katsuki decides what he wants to be when he grows up: a villain.

And Katsuki always gets what he wants.

Todoroki Family

the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had

There’s a ghost haunting the Todoroki mansion. Rumors say it drove Todoroki Rei insane. Shouto has never seen it himself, has only heard footsteps in the hallway sometimes, but one day he discovers the stories are true—and the ghost is someone he knows, his own brother.

The Fire Within You

Scared of the Quirk he’s inherited from his father, Midoriya Izuku runs away from home after a terrible accident. And though the police and his mother search desperately for Izuku, someone else has found him first - an older, scrappy boy whose Quirk is similar to his own. Dabi takes Izuku under his wing, and their meeting lights a fire that may never have started otherwise.

violets are blue | blood is red

Todoroki Rei has been receiving flowers from her husband. At least, that’s what Shouto believes until she goes missing. The key he has to find her is the blue flowers on her windowsill and a tenuous connection to a villain: Dabi, whose motives remain unclear yet who seems to have a particular grudge against the number one hero.

Arsonist's Lullaby

Here is one secret few people know about the Todoroki family: Todoroki Natsuo is Quirkless. He had no power over fire nor ice, and his father never speaks of his Quirkless son—or his dead one.

Studying health and welfare, Natsuo keeps his head down and his anger simmering. He’s no hero like Shouto. Without a Quirk and with too much resentment, Natsuo has never considered the life of heroics or anything related to it—that is, until a strange encounter where bleeding, dangerous villain Dabi asks Natsuo for his help.

Natsuo doesn’t know why he helps Dabi, nor does he understand why Dabi doesn’t seem to want to hurt him. But one encounter with the villain turns into more, until Natsuo realizes one day he understands Dabi better than his own father Endeavor. He doesn’t get why Dabi cares so much or why he feels safe around him. When Dabi offers to help Natsuo leave his life behind, Natsuo is faced with a choice… and his own family.

When the Glitter Fades

When Todoroki Shouto is hit by a mysterious Quirk, he drops, unconscious. Though his friends worry, there seem to be no visible effects. No damage. Nothing wrong.

But as the days pass, Todoroki just… doesn’t wake up. He’s caught in a neverending dream that shows him his own deep desires—his family, whole again and happy. And he doesn’t want to leave.

Digging Dreams Out of the Fire

Moments of recovery between Todoroki Rei and her son Shouto.

Eri

when there’s blood in my ears, i’ll hold you closer*

Even after Overhaul’s defeat, there are still villains looking for more Quirk-erasing bullets, and for the girl they come from. When Eri is nearly kidnapped, Aizawa makes the difficult decision to take Eri temporarily into hiding with him. But their safe houses aren’t as safe as they’re supposed to be either, and Aizawa begins to suspect that the Hero Commission has reasons to want Eri, too.

take your medicine

Aizawa Eri did not like doctors. This was a fact. Eri had also never received proper vaccinations in her very short life. Luckily, her big brothers Mirio and Deku are there to hold her hand, even as she begins to spiral in the waiting room (from @happi-tree​).

Other Characters of Class 1-A

Now You Don’t

Traitor!Hagakure AU. Class 1-A deals with their friend Hagakure’s mysterious disappearance, sharing their favorite stories of her and hoping for her safety as the search parties continue to come back empty-handed. Meanwhile, Tooru contemplates if going to the League was the correct decision - or if her new Sensei only sees her as another tool (from @happi-tree​).  

My Grand Plan

Hagakure Toru is surprised in her second year when she’s approached by a support and hero management firm that promises they will make people pay attention to her, but soon she accepts the offer to work together. But soon Toru realizes the firm’s support gear, plans, and inviting environment seems to cover something suspicious. And when they ask Toru for more information about her classmates and school, she begins to wonder if the support is for heroes or for villains.

visual (invisible)

Toru’s internship is drawing to an end, and though she’s grateful for the experience, she’s glad to be heading back to normal with classes and lunch with her friends without looking over her shoulder all the time. Not that anyone sees her, anyway, if she doesn’t want them to.

On her last day, she takes a bullet to the shoulder, and that’s when things fall apart.

They can see her. Toru’s friends, her classmates, her teachers: they can see her. It’s Toru’s childhood dream come true, all her prayers to the distant stars in the dark of night, her birthday wishes. No more going unnoticed. No more being invisible. No more of people looking right through her.

But it comes at the cost of her Quirk. Lost, unsure of her next steps, Toru has to figure out what it means to finally be seen when she’s been invisible her entire life, and what it means when she can no longer hide anything to anyone—or to herself.

balloons can’t make you fly

Five times Uraraka solved her problems by making them float, and one time she didn’t need her Quirk for it.

Don't ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash

When the Hero Commission gets involved with concerns about Hitoshi entering U.A.’s hero course due to his “villainous” Quirk, Hitoshi suddenly drops out of U.A. entirely, leaving his friends and teachers concerned about where he’s gone.

If the Hero Commission is law, Hitoshi makes the decision to defy it, taking a more direct approach to chasing his dreams: vigilantism.

Do you trust yourself?

Yaoyorozu Momo is supposed to be perfect. She is a recommended student, has a powerful Quirk, and comes from a family with a history of heroics.

But for all of her expectations, Momo knows she has one weakness: a crippling lack of confidence. But Momo’s friends and mentors are happy to teach Momo to trust herself.

A Momo-centric fic that spans her years at U.A. and her first steps as a hero.

Ignorance is Bliss*

Maybe Kyoka shouldn’t have been listening to Midoriya and All Might’s conversation, but she was curious. She ends up hearing more than she should—but not quite enough to get the full story.

Struggling to come to terms with “All Might’s legacy” and a connection to the villain who destroyed Kamino, All for One, Kyoka asks her classmate Todoroki for help unraveling a secret. The two form an unlikely team and friendship as they begin looking for the truth: about All for One, All Might, Midoriya, and the ties that bind them together.

Fear the Anger of a Kind Soul

There’s a bit of an unspoken rule in the dorms. Don’t mess with Uraraka.

Mineta tries. The story starts with him trying to sneak into her room, and ends with an expulsion, a few holes in the ceiling, and a social media post gone viral.

Dissociation Potion

Todoroki, in a spur of bad-decision making, makes a drink he found browsing social media.

It’s not pretty.

A Siren's Call

AU—Jirou Kyoka is an up-and-coming singer, known better as JACK!, pursuing her dreams in music after graduating. Her fast track through school and constant work leaves her lonely. Though she won’t admit it, she’s on the path to burnout; even as her fanbase grows, Jirou feels like no one really listens to her.

After performing at a Hero Gala, there are suddenly more eyes on her than usual, including villains. When she’s attacked, pro hero Creati saves her, and they become friends. Creati, or Yaoyorozu Momo, introduces Kyoka to more pro heroes; suddenly Kyoka has friends her age who like her music but more importantly like her.

Not everyone approves of Kyoka’s new friends, especially not her manager. Rumors start on social media. And a dangerous accident almost threatens to tear Kyoka’s friendships apart, but she’s determined not to lose the people she’s come to care for.

dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight

One by one, students at U.A. disappear overnight. No one knows where they’ve gone, or what happened.

Tension grows as parents panic, investigation turns up nothing, and the teachers search desperately for their students. That is, until Aizawa discovers a calling card left behind, half-hidden, on which is carefully written: Let’s dance.

What’s revealed is a Quirk trafficking ring—targeting powerful Quirks, with no better to choose from than the most prestigious hero school in Japan.

Cross the Delta

Asui Tsuyu knows even at the young age of seven that her froglike features make her an oddity amongst her peers. She tries to let their jeers and taunts slough off her like water, but they seep under her skin instead. A Hero with a Mutant Quirk helps her to see differently. Asui Tsuyu will become a Hero, oddity or not (from @happi-tree​). 

Miscellaneous

Revenge of the Roses

A non-deadly Hanahaki fic in which characters try to get each other to fall in love without falling in love back.

They’ve got a deadline: exams, when Hanahaki will get them out of it. They’ve got dates planned.

And, well, it doesn’t seem to be working. (Either the characters stay as friends and end up doing really nice things for each other, or they’re both falling in love. Oops.)

Run If You Can

Tensei’s hero career is— well, it’s over. There’s no wheeling around the fact, but that’s okay; he knows Tenya will be a great hero following in his footsteps and carrying the legacy of Ingenium.

It’s just that some days Tensei wheels down the hospital halls and realizes he’s become of the people that needs the saving, not the hero anymore. It’s just that some days he gets a call from the office or a bouquet of flowers and feels worse for the well wishes, not better. It’s just that some days he remembers it’s all over, and he’s one of the tragedies.

He doesn’t regret Stain. He doesn’t regret standing up to him, or lying in the street bleeding out knowing he might have saved someone else. But he doesn’t know what to do now.

There’s no running when you can’t run anymore.

[datawyrms]

A Literal Soul Bro

Dannymay 2020 day 15 Fave AU. (we’re going with it’s danny phantom. BUT DEMONS. as i am a hack and also can’t pick Just One)

Demons didn’t exist. They were stories and heavy handed morality fables. So of course he couldn’t back down when Sam dared him to try the summoning she found. That would be admitting he was scared of some fairy tale.

The green eyed thing leering at the pair of them from the carefully drawn circle apparently did not care it should not exist.

“Okay Sam, great prank.” He stammered, trying to ignore the clear surprise etched on his friend’s face.

“I sort of thought this was your prank Tuck,” she answered quietly, eyes darting between her tech obsessed friend and the smoky glowing thing that was now in the basement.

“Two of you?” It spoke in a disquieting tone, leaving the friends with the sensation of being doused in buckets of ice water. “Yet you only offered me one soul.”

Tucker broke the strained silence first. “Woah, hold up. I’m not offering any demons any souls!”

“Oh? So the girl is offering you as a snack?” The eyes were bright and curious, even though the rest of the ‘demon’ remained an odd undulating mass that probed at every inch of the circle with smokey tendrils. 

“No! You can just go back home now.” She sounded steady, though Tucker could hear the note of fear hiding just below the false bravado. 

The idle smoke flashed into a brilliant green flame “I answered for a soul, and I will have one. One given soul for one lifetime of servitude. That is what you offered and I accepted.”

“Please tell me that book has a dismissal spell or something.” he managed to squeak out, too afraid to run away in case that broke some other rule that they knew nothing about.

“Don’t rush me, I’m looking!”

The demon flames died down somewhat, but the flash of hot anger was still lingering in the room. “You confirmed the contract in blood. I am here. I may not get your soul if you break it, but I’ll have both your lives.”

Sam, to her credit, was trying to read a dead language as quickly as possible in a dark room with wildly varying demon fueled lighting. That didn’t mean she was finding anything useful.

Tucker gave a weak smile, trying to think of a way to buy more time. “We didn’t actually know you existed? So if you could just let us off with a warning this time that’d be great, really.”

“None of us are leaving here until I am paid, or you are both dead.”

Well. It had been worth a shot. “Uhhh, do you take payment plans by any chance? You can totally ask the electronics store, I always make my payments on my PDA.”

The flames snuffed out as the eyes fixed on Tucker, not so much a glare as the curious look it had had before they’d made it angry. “I can be reasonable. You both did offer…” The eyes closed as it seemed to hum a little bit.

“I can’t find anything, everything is phrased like just telling them to go will be enough.” Sam hissed, gripping the book so tightly that the colour was draining from her fingers.

“Of course I would go if my master said so. Neither of you are that. Yet.” the demon clarified, snickering when Sam flinched. “Since you seem so against giving me a soul, I will accept half of each.”

Tucker was pretty sure any deal offered to you by a demon was probably the worst possible option to take, even if it sounded less terrible at first brush. “That’s not really a payment plan, demon dude.”

“An alternate form of payment, then. You each retain half of your soul, secure my loyalty, and I get the soul I want.” the smoke flicked and danced in light airy circles. “Everyone’s happy. So choose something.”

The pair shared a look. This was obviously not a good idea. Yet who could really force their best friend to be alone in some demonic contract with this thing?

“This was my fault.” Sam muttered, dropping the book before giving it a solid kick. “Maybe not having a soul is just maximum goth.” her grin couldn’t be more paper thin if it had been made out of tissue paper.

“Oh this is totally your fault. But maybe I don’t want you hoarding all the demon powers to yourself Sam.” he shot her an equally sickly grin before looking back to the monster in the circle. “Okay, halfsies it is.”

“You both agree?”

Sam hesitated. “Thanks Tuck.” she whispered. “Halfsies, demon.”

The creature vanished. Yet it was absolutely still present, judging by the horrid seeping cold scrabbling at his chest. It stabbed and tore something and he fell, clutching at a woundless chest. The cold lessened as he shuddered, but there was still a hollowness where there wasn’t one before. Sam’s loud string of obscenities at least assured him she was alright from whatever that had been, though he didn’t quite feel steady enough to get back to his feet.

“So dramatic. You’ll get used to the feeling. I did.”

The demon was still in the room. He’d almost forgotten. Tucker forced himself to get upright again, holding his glasses as he tried to spot the smoky fiend. A smirking white haired, green eyed boy was hovering nearby, watching with rapt attention. “You look different.”

The boy lifted an eyebrow “I’m your demon. There’s no point in trying to freak you guys out anymore.” He flexed a white gloved hand, four wickedly sharp claws replacing what had been fingers. “I’m still plenty scary if I want to be.”

Tucker agreed with that sentiment, considering the claws ended up an inch from his face. “Noted.”

“Urgh. Too much for one day. Go back to wherever you came from.” Sam groaned, rubbing at her forehead.

The demon tilted his head, pointed ears flicking before giving a fang filled smile. “Hmm. Nah. Think I’ll stick around for now.”

“Wait you said-” Tucker sputtered.

“I’d obey my master unquestioningly.” the grin widened, even though it should no longer fit on his face. “But you two are sharing that title. I only need to obey you two for half of your lifetimes. Did I not mention that bit?”

“You know you didn’t you lousy-” Sam looked liable to kick up into a proper rant, but managed to stop herself.

“Demon. That’s what you called, and that’s what you got.” he glanced back at Tucker. “The hell is a PDA anyway? I haven’t gotten to get over here in ages.”

And that was how two best friends ended up with a demonic third wheel.

[tomcat-acaphe]

CPR Masterpost

Roughly 54% of Americans know CPR. That is shockingly low.

So, for those who don’t know, only half know, need a reminder or think they know but don’t, let ya boy educate you.

Pre-Physical CPR: Remember DRS (Doctors!)!

D: Danger. Is there danger nearby? Oftentimes people go into cardiac arrest due to, say for example, touching an electric fence and getting electrocuted. Following on from that example, are they still attached to the electric fence? Is the patient still in danger? If they’re in danger, leave them and don’t do CPR. Still call an ambulance though.

R: Response. Shake em, shout at em, call their name, anything! If they respond with words, don’t do CPR. They’re probably just out of it.

S: Shout for help. You’ll ideally want as many people who can do CPR around as possible. ALSO, CALL AN AMBULANCE.

Physical CPR: Remember ABC.

A: Airway. Lay their head back and open their mouth. Make sure the airway is clear.

B: Breathing. If they aren’t breathing, they’re in danger. Lay your head down on its side near their cheek. Use your eyes to also look if their chest is moving up and down. While doing that, if you can’t hear/feel the breath after ten seconds, they aren’t breathing.

Please note there is also a thing called Agonal breathing. If they’re gasping like a fish out of water or not breathing properly, THEY ARE DYING. It’s a brain reflex, they aren’t actually getting any oxygen.

C: Chest Compressions. Start 'em. Do them until you either physically can’t or the ambulance arrives. This is why shouting for help is important. Compressions are very exhausting and if you’re not physically fit you’ll tire quickly and need to alternate.

Extra Note:

Sometimes, if you’re really good and really lucky, the person may wake up. Often this is temporary. Still keep doing compressions. If they become verbal and tell you to, quote enquote ‘piss off, geroff me!’ There’s a good chance they’re alive now.

How To Do Compressions Properly:

Place the heel of the hand on the breast bone at the centre of the person’s chest. Place your other hand on top of your first hand and interlock your fingers.

Position yourself with your shoulders above your hands.

Using your body weight (not just your arms, trust me, if you just did your arms you’ll get very tired very fast,) press straight down by 5-6cm (2-2.5 inches) on their chest.

Keeping your hands on their chest, release the compression and allow the chest to return to its original position.

Repeat these compressions at a rate of 100-120 times in a minute until either: an ambulance, you get exhausted or you feel slightly tired and have a friend who can take over.

If all this is too complicated to remember, don’t worry. If you put your phone on speaker, the person on the other end will walk you through it in real time. If you can’t take away anything else from this, please take away this fact.

Misconceptions:

Q: Do I have to do mouth-to-mouth?

A: Nope! In fact, I’d advise against it. Mouth to mouth actually does little to help the patient and is arguably detrimental due to an exchange of germs. Just stick to chest compressions.

Q: Do I have to sing Nellie The Elephant?

A: Also nope! Any 100-120 BPM song is fine. There’ll be a list below.

Q: Am I pressing hard enough?

A: No. Unless you’re pressing 5-6cm or 2.5 inches down, you are not. It looks weird and wrong, but that’s because you’re literally acting as their heart for them. If you’re questioning if you’re pressing hard enough, you probably aren’t. If you think you are, push a little harder. It’s possible and very easy to not push hard enough, but there’s no such thing as too hard. Push them so hard they make a hole on the floor if you have to.

Q: Oh no! I heard a rib crack!

A: That’s good! Oftentimes, the ribs have to break in order for you to actually have any hope of successful CPR. Don’t stop because you heard a rib crack. There’s no such thing as pushing too hard. There is such a thing as not pushing enough. It’s better to have a friend alive with a few broken bones than your friend dead.

Q: The patient is a woman and I’m scared that if she wakes up she’ll sue me for touching her breasts. Should I risk it and perform CPR anyway?

A: Don’t worry. You’re protected by the Good Samaritan Law. I’m not a lawyer, so if any one who knows the law could possibly fact check me on this personally, but the Good Samaritan Law states:

“The Good Samaritan Law offers legal protection to people who give reasonable assistance to those who are, or whom they believe to be, injured, ill, in peril, or otherwise incapacitated.”

So even if the patient does wake up and your vital readings were wrong, the law should be on your side.

If you think someone needs CPR, don’t question the legal trouble it’ll get you in later. Just do it.

Q: Don’t I have to check for a pulse?

A: You could, but breathing is much more reliable. Locating a pulse can take a while. (Sometimes people can only feel it in their wrists, some people only feel it in their neck. There’s no one guaranteed location. Everyone is different. Unless you know that person extremely well and know their best pulse spots fir some reason, (I’m not judging your friendship,) chances are it’ll take at least 30 seconds to locate a spot. This is especially hard when someone doesn’t have a pulse.) Breathing, on the other hand, is much more reliable and quicker to do, (10 seconds check, let’s say you were slow and took 2 seconds positioning, that’s 12 seconds max.) Time management is extremely important during CPR and every second counts. I understand most American places recommend checking for a pulse, but everywhere in the UK, (including NHS.gov and the British Resuscitation Council (used by all nurses and doctors as gospel, pretty much unheard if outside of professionals apparently?) My mum also said so.

Songs that are 100-120 BPM to sing instead of Nellie The Elephant: (Feel Free to Add!)

Sweet Home Alabama (Lynyrd Skynyrd) (100bpm)

Tainted Love (Straight No Chaser) (100bpm)

Through The Fire And Flames (Dragonforce) (100bpm)

Breaking The Habit (Linkin Park) (100bpm)

This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race (Fall Out Boy) (100bpm)

Dancing Queen (Abba) (100bpm)

Hips Don’t Lie (Shakira) (100bpm)

Gives You Hell (All American Rejects) (100bpm)

Icicles (The Scary Jokes) (100bpm)

Rock Your Body (Justin Timberlake) (101bpm)

Steppin’ Out (Joe Jackson) (101bpm)

Welcome To Tally Hall (Tally Hall) (101bpm)

Cecilia (Simon and Garfunkle) (102bpm)

Semi Charmed Life (Third Eye Blind) (102bpm)

99 Luftballons (DDR) (102bpm)

Stayin’ Alive (Bee Gees) (103bpm)

Stronger (Kanye West) (104bpm)

All Star (Smash Mouth) (104bpm)

Hard To Handle (The Black Crowes) (104bpm)

Rolling In The Deep (Adele) (105bpm)

Good Day (Tally Hall) (105bpm)

Are You Gonna Be My Girl (Jet) (105bpm)

Numb (Linkin Park) (107bpm)

Set Fire To The Rain (Adele) (108bpm)

Stronger (Britney Spears) (108bpm)

Eye Of The Tiger (Survivor) (109bpm)

Just The Way You Are (Bruno Mars) (109bpm)

Hollaback Girl (Gwen Stefani) (110bpm)

Another One Bites The Dust (Queen) (110bpm)

Till It’s Over (Tristam) (110bpm)

Grenade (Bruno Mars) (110bpm)

Never Gonna Give You Up (Rick Astley) (113bpm)

Under Pressure (Queen and David Bowie) (113bpm)

Banana Man (Tally Hall) (113bpm)

Two Trucks (Lemon Demon) (114bpm)

Uptown Funk (Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars) (115bpm)

What Doesn’t Kill You (Kelly Clarkson) (116bpm)

Once In A Lifetime (Talking Heads) (117bpm)

Call Me Maybe (Carly Rae Jepsen) (118bpm)

Don’t Stop Believing (Journey) (118bpm)

Bad Romance (Lady Gaga) (119bpm)

Just Dance (Lady Gaga) (119bpm)

Poker Face (Lady Gaga) (119bpm)

Tik Tok (Ke$ha) (120bpm)

Teenage Dream (Katy Perry) (120bpm)

DJ’s Got Us Falling In Love Again (Usher) (120bpm)

Revenge (Captain Sparklez) (120bpm)

If you want to check your favourite song is one you can use but it’s not here, go onto the website tunebat.com and type in the title. It will tell you the BPM and other fun facts like what key it’s in.

Sources:

http://www.nhs.uk/conditions/first-aid/cpr/

http://www.resus.org.uk

My Mum (Registered Band Six District Nurse (Going for Master’s Degree currently.)) (She read and fact checked this for me. Thanks, Mum!)

http://tunebat.com

My own knowledge having this drilled into me from a young age. (From sources above, especially ‘My Mum.’ You can’t find that website anymore.)

[tammyhybrid21]

On Villain Impact

SO, Guess who just rewatched UP so that I could further expand on the tea brought up in the post that ask prompted! I mean, and some general comparison moments... with plot and tone and the possible inspirations... BUT--

We're not here to explore Paradise Falls today!

So let's take this in parts so I can give each villain(and one bonus) their dues. Starting with the Pixar villain who first traumatized me in 2009.

Charles Muntz

Sooo first of all, this guy is terrifying.

Like, out of all the villains I'm here to talk about, Muntz has reached that point that there's just... something wrong and broken by the time he actually shows up on screen in his movie. Well, not his movie but-- By the time we meet him, isolation has done a number along with his single minded focus on his goal.

Muntz is... not in a good state of mind AT ALL.

BUT--

I kind of want to take it back for a moment to what triggered this. Because here's the tea-- As we see, throughout the movie with Russel and Kevin, Muntz's find was real. Birb still around even. That skeleton he displayed-- and yet--

They decried it as fake. Something he fabricated. Which hello, here's some of my related tea-- Again, this is basically that whole-- issue of if it doesn't fit with known facts, along with some of the other issues regarding the palaeontology community in general that is-- not quite the same, but--

I have many, many dinosaur issues and some of them come from how long it took people to accept feathered dinosaurs, to the fact that there has been multiple cases of evidence that dinosaurs went extinct much more recently than what we're taught in schools(middle ages, medieval art and designs and just argh--), that are just-- REJECTED. Which even included a report about still images, art and designs that are very dinosaur in nature. Or hell, the comparison of dragon legends to how dinosaur skulls and appearances are--

Not to mention there have been and are still fiascos about dinosaur bones and the whole marrow and blood cells discovered in them. Which instead of maybe assuming that means they're younger than previously assumed they're assuming that means that decay rates are off, which... yeah sure. I don't really have a degree on that, but it sounds wrong when decay has more clear and obvious examples that have been more clearly witnessed, studied-- I mean there's a whole STUDY on decay--

BUT I'M NOT AN EXPERT AND THE EARTH HAS TO BE--

Anyway-- Fossils and bones have-- such a HUGE mess. From exhibits going missing, discoveries passed over time and time again because is "doesn't fit" what was previously know, there's a whole documentary that's one guy trying to explain how there's evidence of specific species actually just being sexual dimorphism and differences in age of just one species and being mocked by the rest of the community for that view--

You know fascinating stuff--

Among other things, like I remember so clearly a documentary that used to be around where they talked about a dig site where there were modern animals preserved with animals from so, so long ago-- along with trying to explain how the very existence of Dinosaur bones and fossils proved that the Great Worldwide Flood happened.

Which-- honestly on the flood, just look at how pretty much every culture has a Great Flood story and that's already proven that something happened. WHICH is all beside the point--

But this-- THIS--

Do you know how much this happens, happened, and still probably will happen in the future?! I mean shit-- people thought the KANGAROO was FAKE NEWS once upon a time. Among-- many other of Australia's animals... also like-- think about weird animals from your own country and imagine in the olden days, sure people could travel, but that didn't mean everyone would or could and just--

How many animals sound fake but then you see them?!

In any case, there's just a very subtle background flow to this movie in that ultimately, the TRUE villains hidden in the story are the Archaeology & Palaeontology communities. Scientists.

--

Which yeah, deviation from the main point of this post, so now that we have that background detail and rant. What impact does Muntz have as a villain. Well... very clearly he's terrifying. Like, I don't think I can overstate how much I was FREAKED OUT as a baby 11 year old seeing this movie for the first time, with exaggerated memories of fire and trauma and all-- and just-- Muntz is a Pixar villain.

Which yeah--

I don't actually really have to say much in regards to how he lingers and his presence is felt all through how the movie unfolds. Even from before this reveal-- there's that sense of wrongness when you're paying attention and you just think about how the dogs act.

And well-- there's something to be stated about this scene... and how it serves as a good lead in to the next villain I would like to talk about-- But for now...

Muntz' degeneration here is subtle. Traitors, liars, people after his discovery... and some serious isolation induced paranoia.

But the heart of his motivation is that long, long ago disgrace. It's been YEARS, of hunting and trying to find the one thing. Carl's entire lifetime from childhood. His entire goal-- and what a hell of a broken pedestal that creates... but arguably, he's from a somewhat tragic perspective when you actually think how fundamentally broken he's fallen when examining the facts.

From a lauded explorer-- adventurer... to this.

Fearing and calling anyone he meets liars.

Max Mordon

Soooo before anyone says that was an abrupt-- I think that this is the PERFECT place to transition over. Because the one immediately there is... some DRASTIC contrasts between these two, despite well. Some small similar vibes to generals.

Like seriously...

Not precisely the same... but like-- Brown hair, blue eyes... and the general frame of his hair style. Max just missed some of the points and has no moustache or anything. BUT--

Max is also in direct contrast in regards to motivations. At least to the prior villain of Muntz. BUT-- Max is kind of literally the kind of people that Muntz was paranoid about. Which isn't really played for subtly in the movie, which is unfortunate, but to be fair that's a hard thing to play subtle and with all the tropes we've been exposed to nowadays-- BUT--

Max basically fell into the trap of, pedestal to break, along with what I kind of call Scooby logic, in how his presentation gave him away as a villain. And also all the older mentor characters disapproving of him.

Basically he was doomed from the framing.

Which-- isn't really the movie's fault, and in the end I would argue it actually plays to his favour to be so obvious.

Sooo I can also actually focus on other things instead of the fact we all know! Like how THERE'S just... so, so much I could say about Tad's reactions to Max throughout the movie. But that will probably take away from the focus of this rant/analysis. BUT-- Yeah, Max is set up as pretty obviously trouble to EVERYONE but the main characters.

Which... I do have opinions for another rant about how Sara would have in any other context probably noticed his fake sooner-- but Max is... "media circus" and archaeology... and more really his pursuit is-- really, really straight forwards in the context of the movie and even the greater scope.

Max is after immortality, power, and prestige. Puts great pride on his title and claim to be the "Greatest explorer". And much unlike Muntz there is no sign of ANYTHING tragic or forgiving in his background. He wasn't screwed over by the system, rather he's here using the system to screw others other.

ALSO--

Max is savvy as anything.

Like-- I don't think people will quite understand my glee at how RUTHLESS this is. But in a similar vein to Muntz, Max isn't letting anything stand in the way of his goals. Not here-- directing the Odysseus to get rid of Freddy and Tad despite them ostensibly being "no threat", which yeah... not completely for Tad as later that comes back around-- BUT-- Max is just... SAVVY in that sense that he's not taking risks.

BUT then we also get him showing he's... really not as expert as he plays himself. Which sure, the Professor has studied for years, but still-- there's a kind of logic that's just-- well, in the Quipu room and even before entering the ruins... He's just-- not studied enough, or observing enough. Not without blind spots.

BUT--

I also want to for a moment just take a moment to have an aside on this:

I also don't know if this is something that people would notice. But-- when it comes to this moment, Max turns the tables... really quickly. Which half of that is just Mummy being kind of naïve himself here in this moment, like-- of all the decisions... but the other half is SOMETHING clicked in Max's mind on this--

But mostly I want to focus on that expression. He's so damn smug-- like he's got a plan, smug and smooth, ready to try and steal the advantage... and I have... opinions on other nuances that might be hiding in that smile. But-- well, it's just not something that can easily be covered all in this--

BUT

It's these two SIDES. And his clear motivation, that actually makes Max a really, really strong and interesting villain to speculate and think about. ALSO-- On the topic of my prior rant...

Max DEFINITELY is the kind of person who probably-- had the movie not unfolded as it did, just be likely to think Mummy was just "another discovery" and tool to use to boost his own reputation.

But as we all know-- ultimately it all came back down on him and backfired.

Jack Rackham

Is honestly the most bland and kind of... confusing almost part of The Secret of King Midas. Like, I almost get him, but then compared to Max, there's just... Nothing to really work with in terms of fanfiction for missing scenes, alternative takes on the universe and story-- and even for his basic motivation it feels like something is... missing or unexplained. Not quite paid off properly.

But then, a lot of things in the sequel kind of pan out in a weird way that I have... much to grumble on.

"So cute, the power of Midas goes way beyond wealth my dear"

"Midas' power, is the power of the GODS! The power to Rule the World!"

Aaaand then this feels like it doesn't actually get a proper explanation or framing or anything to explain what that even MEANS. It's kind of nebulous to how things pan out and unfold. Also, just in general for movie 2, we didn't see enough of Rackham for him to make a proper impact or landing...

Like, for all the world aside the romance subplot, Rackham's presence in this movie is the MOST FORCED THING. He just feels... incomplete, or like something is missing. And then worse, obligatory. With next to no impact aside a few expressions that only lead to more internal confusion and screaming because WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN?! What was meant to be going on here?

And that stupid, stupid line--

Makes me wonder if there was some other factor supposed to be at play with the collar. Since honestly-- Just the touch of gold doesn't really speak highly to "the power of the gods".

Rackham... in comparison to Max is just-- so empty.

And again...

The last thing that just drives my confusion(along with a conspiracy based on framing, set pieces and other things) is this expression, and specifically who it's aimed at.

Bonus Tiffany & The Archaeological Community

So...

Hot take but-- Movie 2's villain should have been Tiff. Well, halfway anyway... And I have... already mostly ranted on the topic-- But not really enough to truly kind of get over my TRUE frustration. Which has now combined into how nebulous and almost... overloaded movie 2 feels the more I rewatch the rest of it.

BUT LIKE--

If there is one rule that we see time and time again when discoveries are made that challenge things. THEY ARE NOT ACCEPTED. People just like to think, to believe that we know the most about the past already. That there's a strict timeline to everything that happened. And if mythology and stories come into it-- Just for crying out loud--

The issue persists.

People denying anything that challenges the view already established. Up to and including the mishandling of archaeological digs and finds. Destruction of artefacts and we all know that the ones who get the brunt of it are the younger folks, those who're out of the "default" and well... ladies.

Which yeah-- not really surprising because sexism still stands and rings strong... but here...

DESPITE THE PAPYRUS BEING FOUND-- We didn't actually get to see the end result of that... And how it was taken beyond a giant presentation. There would have been authenticators-- people going over every INCH of that thing and then more-- so, so many people who would STILL call it fake.

Since we all know! Magic isn't real, myths didn't happen. So this must be some exaggerated story as well right?

WHICH ALSO-- Arguably this whole angle, the potential of the plot being just-- Driven by this-- It's more in line with the motives that are set up for Tiffany. The BIGGEST DISCOVERY in recent history. And also again, I can talk about some incomplete arcs, because this actually gives EVERYONE that little bit more room to breath.

Also serves as a bit more of a move on from movie 1 for Tadeo, first his hero(Max), wasn't all he appeared, and now-- the villain is okay, not exactly defined so much, more abstract in the community decrying the evidence. Denying-- Quite likely mishandling the papyrus since it can't really be what it claims.

Actually make the papyrus relevant, along with Sara's journal of notes on the project for more than one scene... and POSSIBLY EXPLAIN THAT LINE FROM RACKHAM.

Power of the Gods... and the mystery of Sara's kind of echo/response line to it.

“There are too many signs that the power of Midas shouldn’t be trifled with, I’m just saying that maybe the collar shouldn’t see the daylight”

We could have even still had that climax, just with some alterations, and let Tiffany come full circle in the theming. Set up and payoff, with even the legend being mirrored. But anyway... yeah.

Just in general, the villains most effective here are the ones who give us more than just that surface level empty sense. That have presence that's felt and echoes throughout the whole MOVIE and story. Which is definitely Muntz and Max, without them something is fundamentally lost.

Meanwhile Rackham is there, but he feels obligatory, without a proper explanation and if you removed him--

Tiffany could have become a mirror to Muntz in a similar way to Max-- BUT also much closer. She's set up PERFECTLY for it as well. Her adoration and eagerness, that bright hope yet. And it would be so easy to still have the main beats be the same-- Without much of an issue of the plot push either.

Rackham's sense of presence in the movie is so... dismal anyway--

And as for that climax. Well, you have to prove every aspect right?

BUT then it wouldn't make sense for Tadeo to make any kind of sacrifice there. To come full circle, it would need to be Tiffany. And the collar ACTUALLY could be sacrificed like in the legend and Tad first assumed.

[undecidedpersonality]

Writer’s Month 2020 Day Twenty-Six: Summer Vacation

Title: “The Most Fun in Cabo”

By: Nalijah Daniels

Word Count: 1327

Genre: Fiction - Crime

CW: physical violence, kidnapping, drug trafficking

“Aren’t you just having the most fun?” She asks. Her tight blonde hair is pulled back into a high ponytail that accentuates how thin her face is, the bone structure underneath seems to protrude through the skin. The big fake grin she shoots me is even larger because of her gigantic teeth. Everything about her face and demeanor make her seem old despite her young age. I’ve been finding it hard to believe that we’re the same age.

I don’t answer her question even though I know it will anger her more. If I talk, the pain in my face will only worsen from moving, and if I don’t respond the pain will worsen with another stinging slap. I’d rather risk them hurting me than hurt myself.

Bethany grunts for probably the fiftieth time today, rolling her eyes and stalking to the other side of the dark room to grab a sparkling water from the mini fridge there. “God,” she starts, “you are such a bore. You would think, you have every opportunity to have a fun summer vacation if you would just agree to help us. But, you’re too much of a dumb bitch to get it. Get angry at least. Give me––all of us, actually––some entertainment to work with.”

Once again, I refuse to open my mouth and instead opt for a shrug of my shoulders. I would give them more of a reaction if I thought it would benefit me, like a means to an end. There is no end. At least, not one that would lead to my escape and safety.

I was on a fun summer vacation before I was kidnapped by my best friend’s family. With the help of my best friend, Bethany. Ex-best friend, I should probably start calling her that. In all honesty, I probably shouldn’t have considered her my best friend in the first place. I’ve only known her for two months since she moved to my city from two states away. It was perfect in the beginning, as it always is. We had so many common interests and just the perfect amount of differences to make us quick friends. I hadn’t had one of those in so long so I fell for the bait that ended me up here: tied to an uncomfortable wooden chair in a molding basement of a mansion in Cabo because Bethany’s family invited me to an all-expenses-paid vacation with them for two weeks of summer break and I was desperate to get out of my house. I mean, I had never even been out of the country before. Why would I have passed up this opportunity? Now, I would do anything to be swatting flies off my barbecue ribs in my backyard, scorching under the late June sun with my siblings and overbearing parents. The overprotection from them that I was so desperate to run away from seems so reasonable and needed right now.

When I open my eyes again from my daydream of a summer backyard cookout, Bethany is scrunching her nose three inches from my face. “That’s a really ugly bump and bruise,” she states, sticking her tongue out and pointing her finger towards her mouth and making gagging noises. “I should probably call Anthony in here to clean that up before it gets infected. We don’t want an even bigger problem on our hands.”

When Anthony gets downstairs, his tan chest and bright orange, half unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt mocking me, I tense up. He frowns at me, setting his kit on a wooden stool that matched my chair. “Despite these other psychos here, honey, I’m not here to hurt you. My job just happens to be painful, but at least it leads to some form of healing.”

Meeting his eyes I almost believe him, but he hasn’t called the cops to help save me so his help is overridden by the fact that he puts me in pain. As he leans in closer, sterilized tools in hand, his eyes seem even more sincere about feeling bad for me. I still can’t forgive him.

I gasp as the first sting burns through the cut in my cheek. If you get punched hard enough, it will split skin. I always thought that was a ridiculous feature in the movies. I squeeze my eyes shut and to distract myself and blurt out, “What do you guys want from me anyway? You keep telling me to cooperate but you also haven’t told me what I can do.”

Anthony’s hand pauses for a few seconds and since my eyes are closed, I can’t tell if it’s because he’s surprised by my question or because I moved too much speaking. He’s back at patching me after a few seconds but the silence made it feel much longer. 

Bethany’s response takes even longer. With my eyes still shut I imagine that she’s opening and closing her mouth like a fish. I imagine her with big bulging eyes coming out the side of her head, too, to pull away from the image of the beautiful girl I was so happy to be friends with just a week ago.

“It’s truly amazing that you remain clueless,” Bethany finally says. “See here’s the thing. Your handsome father is hiding a lot of secrets from you and your family. Those secrets mean a lot to me and my family and we can’t let the information get into just anyone’s hands. Your father, you call him Jimmy right? Well Jimmy just loves his only daughter doesn’t he? Which means there’s a good chance he’ll do anything to get you back.”

I open my eyes and look past Anthony’s messy black hair to meet Bethany’s eyes. There was no way anything she’s saying was real. I wasn’t in an alternate universe fanfiction about band members being in the mafia and I definitely wasn’t in the plot of a corny made-for-television movie. There had already been too much blood and violence for Lifetime.

Bethany’s eyes are holding mine with no hint of deception. Maybe I haven’t known her long enough to tell when she’s lying. I raise both of my eyebrows when she doesn’t continue as if everything she said made sense. She still doesn’t continue.

“If my dad was keeping secrets from my family how the hell would I know something was up? As you suggest.”

Bethany rolls her eyes and groans. She’s the epitome of a bratty teenage white girl. “Have you never noticed that you’ve never seen a picture of you and your mom before you were four years old? Or that, you can’t actually explain why your dad makes so much money even though he’s only a retail shop manager?”

She has to be joking. I can’t decide if I want to be confused or laugh at how ridiculous Bethany sounds so my face keeps switching from scrunched eyebrows and narrowed eyes to tight lips holding back snickering laughter.

This pisses Bethany off. She pushes Anthony from in front of me with her hip––he moves easily despite being twice her size because he doesn’t ever get in the way of their criminal agenda––and slaps me across the cheek. One of her nails scratches me in the process and a sharp sting makes me gasp as blood rushes to collect at the opening in my skin.

“You stupid bitch!” Bethany yells in my face, spit spraying with every other word. “I would kill you if you weren’t so important to our plan. Your mom isn’t your mom. Your dad killed your biological mother when you were a baby because she was going to rat him out for drug trafficking. The money from those drugs that Jimmy still sells, belongs to my dad because Jimmy has been paying off dudes to steal. My dad deserves the profit but your dad is just a gold digging snake and deserves whatever he gets.”

Okay, I’m definitely in the plot of a bad fanfiction.

[whumphoarder]

Them’s the Breaks

Summary: Peter is home alone and ends up breaking his ankle. Figuring his super healing will fix it overnight, he doesn’t tell anyone and tries to sleep it off, only to wake up in the middle of the night in agony. Cue Tony, saving his ass yet again.

(Alternative title: Super Healing is Not All it’s Cracked Up To Be Tibia)

Word count: 3,174

Genre: Whump, hurt/comfort, fluffy angst

A/N: Thanks to @sallyidss for beta reading!

Link to read on Ao3

Prior to being bitten by a radioactive spider, Peter had broken exactly one bone in his life.

He was eleven. Someone dared him to do a flip on a trampoline at a classmate’s birthday party. The flip itself was mediocre, but the landing was legendary. Blood streamed down Peter’s face from his now crooked, throbbing nose, ruining both his brand new stormtrooper t-shirt and the horrified birthday girl’s pink dress.

Ned—ever the sympathetic friend—had puked on the spot, which hadn’t done wonders for either of their middle school social statuses.

Peter managed to hold it together pretty well for the twenty minutes it had taken Ben to arrive, but the second the car door was shut and they pulled out of the driveway, the façade crumbled. Peter’s shoulders shook and tears ran down his cheeks, stinging his nose, because, as it turned out, broken bones just really hurt. Almost as much as Peter’s pride.

But Ben was there, and Ben always knew how to make Peter feel better. He cracked jokes about his nephew’s failing gymnastics career and tossed wadded up Burger King napkins at the kid’s messy face all the way to urgent care until Peter’s choked sobs turned to quiet giggles.

The doctor reset Peter’s nose and May fussed over him all weekend, making sure he was icing it appropriately. Three weeks later, he was back to normal.

But that was before the bite—before Peter had taken the unofficial job of crime-fighting teenage vigilante.

He’s up to eight bones now, lifetime total. Besides the nose, there were four ribs last summer (for the record, being thrown into brick walls really sucks), his collarbone back in January (missed a web and crashed onto the roof of a parking garage), and two fingers just before spring break (got stomped on by some dude gallivanting about in a rhino costume, what even is his life?). Luckily, super healing came as part of the package, so what had taken Peter’s sixth grade body weeks to repair, he now accomplishes in mere hours.

Today, however, it’s not Spider-Man who injures himself. It’s just Peter Parker, fresh off an evening patrol, wiping out in the goddamn shower.

“Oh shit!” Peter gasps sharply as his feet slide out from under him on the wet surface. His hand flies out on reflex and grasps the shower curtain, which he pulls down on top of him. As he slams onto the floor of the tub, his ankle rolls sideways underneath him. A split-second later, the metal curtain rod hits him in the face.

“...Rude…” he groans.

Water is still streaming down from the shower, splashing onto the sheet of vinyl now covering Peter’s body. He pulls the curtain off himself with another groan and gingerly pushes himself up to sitting. Half-blind from the shampoo running into his eyes, he reaches up over his head and fumbles for the shower handle. The water stops.

Peter makes to stand, but a sudden jolt of pain just above his ankle stops him. With a grunt, he lets himself fall back against the tub, teeth clenched.

Oh yeah, he’s never gonna live this one down.

It’s not his most graceful moment, but somehow Peter manages to extricate himself from the tub. Thankfully May is out of town this weekend so no one is around to hear the crashes and muffled curses issuing from the bathroom. He quickly dries off and pulls on some clean sweat pants and a t-shirt before hopping on his left leg to retrieve a bag of frozen peas from the kitchen. Once back in his bedroom, he carefully props the already-swelling ankle up on pillows and rests his makeshift ice pack on top.

It’s times like these when Peter curses his mutated spider metabolism for burning through normal painkillers so fast that Tylenol and ibuprofen are about as effective as Skittles. Tony has better drugs at the compound—the kind that actually work on him—but Peter isn’t too keen on explaining to his mentor how someone who’d stopped a runaway car with his bare hands and walked away without a scratch a few hours ago was no match for his own bathroom.

Plus, it’s really not that bad. He can deal. He’ll just sleep it off and everything will be fine by the morning.

X

Peter wakes to nauseating pain.

It takes him a moment to orient himself. He’s lying on his bed in a tangle of covers, a deep, pulsing ache radiating from his right ankle. He flaps his hand around under his pillow until he locates his phone and lifts it to his face to check the time. It’s 1:13 a.m.

God, this sucks.

When Peter pushes himself up to sitting, he can’t help but let out a muffled cry as a fresh wave of agony shoots through his leg all the way to the hip. It’s healing—he swears he can actually feel the bone knitting itself back together under his skin—but something about it feels different. Wrong.

Flipping on the bedside lamp, he pulls his covers off his aching foot and instantly gasps at the sight. It’s purple with bruises and swollen to double its usual size. On the side, right where the ache is deepest, the bone is jutting out at a weird angle and his stomach rolls at the sight. When he tries to move his foot slightly, searing pain nearly makes him lose his dinner.

This isn’t right. None of his past breaks have ever hurt this much. He can’t do this anymore—he needs help.

Fingers trembling, he types out his message: Mr. Stark? Are you awake?

It’s about thirty seconds before Peter sees the three dots indicating that Tony is typing: Haven’t slept since the 90s, kid. Why?

Peter steels himself with a deep breath as another pulse of pain stabs his ankle. He types out and backspaces a few different variations of his confession, ranging from ‘I fucked up my ankle and it’s killing me pls send help’ to ‘Nothing, just couldn’t sleep, sorry’ before finally settling on a vague version of the truth:

I might have done something dumb

Within five seconds of sending the text, Peter’s phone starts ringing, startling him. His fingers fumble to accept the call. When he speaks, his voice comes out more like a squeak than anything else. “Yeah?”

Tony cuts right to the chase. “How dumb are we talking here?” he asks briskly. “Because my lawyers generally appreciate a heads up.”

“No, it’s not that kind of dumb,” Peter manages to grit out through the pain. “It’s um… it’s just…” he trails off, not sure quite how to word this.

“It’s one in the morning. Just spit it out,” Tony prompts.

Tears are pricking at the corners of Peter’s eyes now, the ache somehow finding a way to become even deeper. “I-I got hurt,” he manages to say.

Tony’s tone instantly sobers. “Where? How bad?”

“No no, it’s not that bad,” Peter says quickly. “I just messed up my ankle or something. I thought I could just sleep it off and my healing would fix it, but it’s like”—he takes a shuddery inhale—“It just… it just really hurts, Mr. Stark.” He wants to cry; he feels absolutely pathetic.

Tony curses under his breath and Peter hears a lot of movement from the other end of the line. “Why didn’t I get any alerts from Karen on this?” he demands. “Because I put all those safety features in your suit for a reason and if I find out you coerced that Ned buddy of yours into disabling yet another layer of security, I swear to god, Pete—”

“I didn’t, I promise,” Peter interrupts. “Karen doesn’t know because it didn’t happen on patrol.”

“How did it happen then?”

“I just… kinda fell?”

“You fell?” Tony questions, confusion in his voice. “Fell where?”

Peter’s face flushes. “You know what, I-I’ll be okay,” he says. “I’m sorry to bother you, it’ll be fine in the morning, just—” Another pulse of pain shoots daggers up his right leg and his breath hitches.

“I’m already on my way,” Tony says, and Peter can hear the sound of wind rushing over the line now. “ETA, thirteen minutes.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to come out here!” Peter protests. “I just need some of those painkillers that you and Dr. Banner made. I dunno, maybe you could just send a couple over in one of your suits...?”

“Cute,” Tony remarks. “It’s adorable how you think I’m gonna let a fifteen-year-old dose out a drug strong enough to knock the Winter Soldier on his ass.”

“I’m sixteen now,” Peter argues. “Sixteen and a half, actually.”

“Equally adorable how you think stating your age in fractions helps your case,” Tony quips. “Listen, just hold tight, kid—I’ll be there soon.”

Peter sighs as the call disconnects.

X

Eleven minutes later, Tony arrives at the apartment and lets himself in with the spare key May had given him when it became apparent Peter's internship was more than just a run-of-the-mill semester-long program. He pauses in the doorway of Peter’s messy room to gaze at the miserable teenager sprawled out on the bed.

“Jesus, kid,” Tony swears quietly.

Peter gives a small wave. “Hey,” he mumbles. The nausea is back and he’s sweating slightly now. “Did you bring the drugs?”

“I did,” Tony says, his gaze narrowing as he steps closer to the bed, “but given that your ankle is currently resembling Violet Beauregarde’s, you’re not getting any until FRIDAY does her thing.”

Peter huffs, but he’s in too much pain to come up with anything witty to say. He holds still as Tony taps twice at the nanotech armor’s housing unit on his chest. A light appears and quickly scans over Peter’s body from head to toe.

After a moment, the light disappears again. “Scan complete, boss,” FRIDAY reports. “Partially healed misaligned fracture detected in the lower right tibia.”

“I broke my leg?” Peter balks. “I thought it was the ankle?”

“Your ankle is made up of three bones,” Tony explains. He pulls out his phone and starts typing something as he goes on. “Tibia, fibula…”—he pauses and glances up, frowning—“and that one that doesn’t rhyme.”

“The talus, boss,” FRIDAY supplies.

Diverting his attention back to the phone screen, Tony gives a short nod of acknowledgment. “Yeah, that one.”

“Oh.” Peter glances down awkwardly. “Um, I’m gonna take anatomy next semester.”

Tony hums absently. He finishes tapping out whatever message he’s been sending and pockets the device again. “In the meantime, I’m sure Bruce can tell you more fun bone facts when we get to Medbay.”

“Whoa, wait, what do you mean Medbay?” Peter demands, a fresh wave of panic and guilt crashing over him. “All I need is some meds so I can sleep through the worst of it and I’ll be fine,” he insists.

Tony huffs. “Your knowledge of anatomy might be lacking, but last time I checked you were getting an A in English so you should know that ‘misaligned’ isn’t a word you want connected to ‘fracture’. It’s healing wrong. You need x-rays. And a real doctor.”

With a groan, Peter drapes his arm dramatically over his face. “Great. Even my super healing is against me.”

“Not to mention you still haven’t told me how you fell,” Tony continues with a pointed look, “so if you’re trying to hide some other injury, or a vertigo thing, or—”

“I’m not,” Peter mumbles into the crook of his elbow. With a sigh, he lowers the arm from his face and looks miserably up at his mentor. “I just slipped in the stupid shower.”

To Tony’s credit, he doesn’t laugh.

(Even though his lips do twitch.)

Instead, he steps out of the bedroom and returns a moment later with a cup of water, which he hands to the kid along with two of the super strength painkillers from the orange pill bottle in his pocket. Peter downs them gratefully.

“Your aunt’s got her car here, right?” Tony checks.

Peter nods. “She took an Uber to the airport. Won’t be back until late Sunday. Conference for work.”

“Think she’d mind if we use it as a makeshift ambulance?”

Peter just shrugs.

“Alright then.” Tony presses the housing unit again and this time the armor encases his whole body. “Now I’m gonna pick you up and carry you down to the parking lot, and you’re not gonna make a big deal about it. Capisce?”

Peter suppresses a groan of embarrassment as he’s gathered carefully into Tony’s arms. Maybe next time he wipes out in the shower, he’ll get lucky and just drown.

X

The painkillers are strong and Peter ends up sleeping through most of the two-hour drive back to the compound. By the time they pull into the parking garage—May’s little dented Ford Focus looking positively ridiculous next to Tony’s array of expensive sports cars—it’s nearly four in the morning.

Bruce is waiting for them with a wheelchair, which Peter instantly balks at using.

“I don’t need that��I can totally walk,” he protests.

Bruce gives him a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, that’s not a good idea. Judging by the scans FRIDAY sent ahead for me, your bone rotated as it healed—that’s why it looks so deformed right now. Walking on it is only going to cause further problems.”

“You heard the man,” Tony says, gesturing to the chair. He smirks. “Unless you'd prefer me to get the suit on again.”

With a groan, Peter transfers himself into the chair. His ankle really does feel better now. The swelling is down and the pain only flares up when he jostles it too much—he can tell the bone has mostly knit itself back together.

Once back in Medbay, they’re joined by another doctor—someone from SHIELD called Helen Cho who Peter has never met before. She does some x-rays and an MRI while Peter half-dozes, still foggy from the medication.

When the scans are complete, he’s transferred back to a hospital bed while the two doctors talk over the results with him and Tony. Peter tries to pay attention but he’s still groggy and exhausted, so the medical jargon sounds more like irritating droning than actual words. Then all of a sudden, the three of them start throwing around words like ‘rebreaking’ and ‘inserting pins’ and ‘realignment surgery’ and Peter snaps right out of his haze.

“Whoa, whoa, what do you mean surgery?” Peter demands. “It’s fine, oh my god.”

Dr. Cho gives him a half-smile. “Look here, Peter.” She holds up the x-ray and points to the bulge on the side of Peter’s ankle. “This malunion is going to significantly reduce your mobility, as well as potentially cause chronic pain. Given your”—she pauses for a moment—“unusually active lifestyle, I would highly suggest surgical correction sooner rather than later.”

And that’s how, several hours later, Peter finds himself lying on a bed in a pre-op room at SHIELD Medical, waiting for some surgeons to take a bone-saw to his freshly healed right leg.

“How you feeling, kiddo?” Tony asks, plopping himself down in an armchair beside the bed.

“Really stupid,” Peter answers honestly. He gazes down at the deformed bones in his ankle. “All this from falling in the shower.”

Tony huffs out a laugh. “Eh, this shit happens. One time in college, I threw my back out during a ping-pong match with Rhodey.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”

Tony nods. “Bodies are dumb. Even enhanced ones—did you know Steve once sneezed so hard he dislocated a rib?”

Peter gives him a skeptical look. “Now you’re joking.”

“Cross my heart,” Tony chuckles. “Then Thor clapped him on the back and popped it back in.”

Peter opens his mouth to express his disbelief at this information, but before he can do so, a nurse dressed in light blue scrubs comes in to take him to the OR. A fresh wave of anxiety comes over Peter and he shoots his mentor a pleading look.

“You’re really sure this is necessary?” Peter tries one last time.

Tony gives his shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll be fine,” he assures. “As soon as you’re healed up, I’ll teach you some sweet ping-pong moves.”

Peter smirks. “Maybe I should get Rhodey to show me so I don’t throw out my back.”

“Nah, you don’t want him either,” Tony says, waving his hand dismissively. “I might have thrown out my back, but he ended up with a concussion.”

Peter blinks at him. “What kind of ping-pong games did you play?”

Tony locks eyes with him. “Ball is life, kid.”

X

The surgery itself goes as well as can be expected. Peter wakes up groggy and disoriented, with three new metal pins inside his ankle and a bright red cast around the outside. Bruce feeds him ice chips, and Tony video calls May from his Starkpad so she can fuss over her nephew a bit from Denver. Peter silently marvels at how this ridiculous life he leads has somehow brought him to the point where Iron Man and the Hulk are functioning as his postoperative caretakers.

Then his thoughts are derailed when he suddenly throws up bile all over the bedsheets and Tony’s tablet.

“It’s okay, Peter,” Bruce assures the thoroughly humiliated boy—who is now clutching a pink plastic basin to his chest as if his life depends on it—as he helps the nurse to strip the bed. “Nausea is a really common side effect of the anesthesia, and especially considering how much you had to be under for your metabolism, this is to be expected.”

Standing off to the side, wiping the tablet down with disposable disinfectant wipes, Tony huffs. “I mean if you knew that, Bruce, you could have warned me…”

Whether the antiemetics the doctors give Peter do their job or simply knock him out through the worst of the nausea, Peter will never know. But when he wakes again a few hours later, life is significantly better.

X

He’s released from Medical the next morning and Tony brings him back to the compound to finish recovering in his own room. The cast comes off Sunday morning and Peter’s good as new.

Late Sunday afternoon, Tony drops Peter back off at his apartment—Happy tailing along behind in a much shinier, undented, and heavily upgraded Ford Focus—and thanks May for loaning him her vehicle before asking permission to use their restroom.

Emerging from the bathroom a few minutes later, Tony ruffles Peter’s hair and tells the kid to take it easy before driving off again.

When Peter goes to take a shower later that night, he finds the floor of the tub covered in adhesive non-slip rubber duck decals.

(Yeah, Peter’s never gonna live this one down.)

X

Fic Masterlist

For more Tony helping Peter out sticky of situations, try:

 You Broke Tony 

 The Five Times Peter Denies an Illness or Injury + the One Time He Doesn’t