#and i did not see a post like this yet so i will make once since u know i love a compilation

[milktiicup]

Helloooo! I love your writing so much! I read it all day every time you post, especially your homicipher ones 🥹🫶 I hope you're doing great today btw!

If it isn't too much to ask, can you write the homicipher cast's reactions about the baby of Mr. Crawling and Mc? 👀

I imagine some would be very funny 😭

Have a lovely dayyy! Mwamwa!

little hands, dark hearts!

homicipher cast meeting you and mr crawling's baby! > scarletella, silvair, chopped, hood, machete mr crawling baby saga! chapter 1 chapter 2

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ i think you can tell i have favs by the amount of length and detail some of these have dkjfhkdhdgj

warnings. lol just pure angst in mr. scarletella's

MR. SCARLETELLA

He stares. And he stares. And he stares.

The silence is suffocating, weighing heavier than the shadows beneath his feet. Dull, grey eyes bore into yours, searching for answers that you couldn’t give. 

Of course, he brought you here to be with him. You gave him all these lovely offerings, shedding beautiful blood in his name, stared directly into his eyes as he enveloped you, taking you to his domain- but you wouldn’t give him your name. You stand there, swinging your crowbar, defiance burning in your eyes. It’s not fear he sees, not submission, but anger- a raw, searing thing that slices through the quiet like a blade. And it confuses him. No, it infuriates him.

His grip on his umbrella tightens, the knuckles whitening. His lips twist into a scowl, but behind it, something softer flickers- an ache he doesn’t know how to name. He’s used to taking. Claiming. But you… you’re not like the others. You’re still standing. Still staring. Still resisting.

And it only makes him want you more.

But then there’s him.

That thing. That crawling, pathetic thing that dares to share the space you once offered to him.

What does that creature have that he doesn’t? What pull does it hold over you, to make you look at it like that? Mr. Scarletella hates him. Oh, how he hates him. He hates your baby. Hates the way its small hands grasp at you, the way you cradle it against your chest as if it’s the most precious thing in your world. He hates the way your smile softens when you whisper to it, the way you laugh when it coos.

You look so happy. How could he take that away from you? And yet- how could you do this to him? You like him. He likes you. Why did you pick him?

The resentment pools in his chest like ink, sticky and dark. He wants to scream, to tear down this fragile illusion of happiness you’ve built, to drag you back into his arms where you belong. And yet, his hands tremble. His scowl falters.

You look so happy.

And the thought guts him. How could he take that away from you?

His lips twitch, caught between a sneer and a sigh, as he looks away. For the first time, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to take what he wants.

Mr. Scarletella’s chest rises and falls, his breath unsteady. His umbrella clatters to the ground, forgotten as his hands flex and curl into fists at his sides. He steps closer, the air around him rippling with suppressed fury.

“Why?” The question tears from his throat, jagged and raw, barely above a whisper. His crimson eyes gleam with something between desperation and rage. “Why?”

He’s staring at you again, but this time, there’s no pretense of control. Just pain, naked and wild, burning in the shadows of his gaze.

You don’t answer. How could you?

So, he waits. And he stares. And he waits.

MR. SILVAIR

Mr. Silvair holds your baby, careful and learning. His bandage gaze peers into the little eyes, baby babbling and cooing and reaching for his hair. He smiles, soft and curious. 

His infatuation with your child is endless. How was it possible for you two to procreate? To create something from something undead, a ghost, a monster- and a perfectly normal human. Questions that he will never have answers for- questions he doesn’t dare act upon. The baby is fragile, soft, and defenseless. He couldn’t take it apart and put it back together- he can’t break something that could never be fixed.

And the question eggs him at the back of his mind- what if it could?

His hands steady yet soft, as though he’s cradling the most fragile thing in existence. The baby babbles, tiny fists reaching for the loose strands of his silver hair, and when their fingers catch hold of it, she giggles with pure delight.

“Them like,” he observes, his voice unusually tender.

You stifle a laugh. “Of course she does. It’s shiny. Babies love shiny things.”

His head tilts slightly, silver hair brushing against the baby’s chubby cheeks as they continue their determined mission to grab at more strands. “Shiny good?” he asks, his curiosity genuine, as if this is just another puzzle he’s determined to solve.

“Very good,” you assure him, stepping closer to watch the two of them. “She’s clearly a fan.”

The baby lets out a happy squeal, wriggling in his grasp. Silvair’s gaze flickers down to her, and though his eyes are hidden, there’s something warm in his expression. “Strong grip,” he notes, “Healthy.”

You smile softly, leaning against the counter. “She’s got her father’s energy, that’s for sure.”

Mr. Silvair doesn’t respond immediately, instead focusing on the baby as they try- and fail- to stuff one of his fingers into their tiny mouth. He gently redirects their hands, careful and patient. “Small,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Important.”

His words catch you off guard, and you glance at him. “Important?”

He looks up, tilting his head. “From you. Important. Interested in them.”

The simplicity of his statement warms something in your chest, even if he was purely fascinated with your child out of sheer scientific interest. You’re not sure if he fully understands the weight of his words, but at this moment, it doesn’t matter. You’ll take the softness of the moment. 

The baby lets out another squeal, this one more demanding, and Mr. Silvair bounces them slightly in his arms, an action so natural it makes you blink in surprise. The baby quiets immediately, snuggling into his chest with a content sigh.

“Good,” he says, more to the baby than to you. 

You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. “She likes you,” you comment with a shuffled laugh. Of all the monsters here, your child just has to like the one who tears you apart. 

Mr. Silvair tilts his head again, his smile returning faintly as he glances down at the now-sleepy baby. “Me like them.”

“Cute?”

“Cute.”

MR. CHOPPED

“Want carry them,” Mr. Chopped pouts, cheeks puffed. “Them cute.”

“She’s so cute, isn’t she?” you chuckle.

The baby giggles, a toothless, gummy smile as bright as the sun. He frowned, his eyes narrowing in a mix of frustration and wistful longing. “Me carry. Want carry,” he repeated, his tone almost petulant.

“You’d need arms for that,” you tease, bouncing the baby lightly on your hip. The baby squeals, her laugh infectious, and you couldn’t help but grin down at her. “She’s so happy to see you, though. Look, she’s waving!” You guide her tiny hand in a slow wave toward Mr. Chopped.

His face lit up with exaggerated enthusiasm, his head tilting as he “leans” closer, as if proximity would help convey his affection. “Cute,” he said with deep conviction. “Many cute. Little human.”

The baby gurgles in response, her toothless smile lighting up her face. She reaches out as though she wants to grab him, her tiny fingers opening and closing in that delightful way babies do.

“See?” you laugh. “She wants to hold you!”

Mr. Chopped’s pout deepens dramatically. “Unfair. No arms. No hold. No carry. Me sad.”

You shook your head, amused. “You’re fine, Mr. Chopped. She can’t even hold her own head up for long; I’m sure she’s not judging you for not having arms.”

“Baby not judge,” he said solemnly, his voice tender. “Baby happy.”

“She likes you,” you reassure him with a smile. “You’ve got that big, friendly face, and you’re always talking to her like she’s the most fascinating thing in the world.”

“Them are,” he said matter-of-factly, his tone so earnest it made you laugh again.

“Well, maybe one day we’ll rig up some kind of… carrier for you,” you offered jokingly. “So you can hold her. Or at least let her sit in your lap- if you had one.”

Mr. Chopped perked up at that, his cheeks puffing out again with excitement this time. “Yes! Make lap. Make arms. Then carry. Hug!”

“She’d probably love that,” you said, kissing the baby’s soft head. She giggled again, her tiny hands reaching out toward Mr. Chopped, her eyes bright and full of wonder.

MR. HOOD

“Not understand,” Mr. Hood repeats.

You sigh. “You have to support the back of her head,” you say, guiding his ghostly arm to the baby’s nape. “Gentle. She’s fragile.”

“Weak,” he observes. “Much small.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “so we have to protect her.”

Mr. Hood’s form shifts as he processes your instructions, the faintest hint of curiosity flickering through his voice. “Protect... small weak thing.” His hand hovers near the baby’s head. It trembles slightly, not from lack of strength but from hesitation- like a predator trying to handle something delicate for the first time.

You place your hands over his, guiding him with care. “That’s right. Support her head. Babies can’t hold their heads up yet.”

He tilts slightly, as though trying to look closer, though his featureless head offers no expression to read. The baby gurgles softly, her tiny fingers curling around one of his. The textureless appendage seems to surprise her, and she coos in delight, kicking her chubby legs.

“Why small thing hold?” Mr. Hood asks, his voice edged with wonder.

“She’s curious,” you explain, smiling at the sight. “She doesn’t know what you are, but she wants to hold on to you.”

“Not wise.” His tone is flat, but there’s no malice in it. He shifts slightly, his massive frame dwarfing her. “Me danger. Not afraid?”

“She doesn’t know fear yet,” you say softly. “She only knows what feels safe.”

His hand rests under the baby’s head and back now, cradling her with surprising gentleness. The contrast is almost surreal- his immense strength and amorphous form against the fragility of a newborn. The baby giggles again, wiggling in his hold.

“Small thing… trust,” he murmurs, his tone almost contemplative.

“She does,” you say, watching them with a warmth blooming in your chest. “And that’s why we protect her.”

“Protect,” he repeats, as if testing the word. His grip shifts slightly, more confident. “Protect small thing. Understand.”

It’s strange, seeing someone- or something- like Mr. Hood in this role, but in the quiet moment, his usual air of detachment seems to melt away. The baby yawns, her tiny body sinking deeper into his hold, completely at ease.

MR. GAP

“Give little thing,” Mr. Gap says from the vent, his voice more curious than menacing. You freeze, hand still cradling your baby close to your chest as his long, dark arm stretches out, holding something soft and fluffy- a teddy bear.

Your baby, who has been cooing and kicking her legs happily in your arms, notices the movement. Her bright eyes widen, and she reaches out toward the stuffed bear with an eager little giggle.

“Give them?” It’s such an innocent request. He’s just offering the bear, his dark figure so out of place in the light of the room, but there’s something almost endearing about it.

You laugh softly, a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, she’d love that,” you say. “She’s been really into cuddly things lately.”

The baby coos again, her tiny hands reaching for the bear, almost as if she recognizes the gesture as a gift. She touches it gently, then pulls it closer to her chest in a little snuggle, her face lighting up with joy.

“See? She likes it!” you say, glancing at Mr. Gap, your voice teasing. “Thanks to you.”

Mr. Gap pulls back slightly, his hand retreating into the vent, but you catch a glimpse of a subtle shift in his posture- a pleased air about him, as if he’s satisfied with the outcome.

“Them happy?” he asks.

You smile warmly, watching the baby continue to clutch the teddy bear like it’s her new best friend. “Yeah, she’s happy. And that makes me happy.”

A soft, quiet chuckle seems to come from the vent, and you can almost imagine a small, pleased grin behind the shadows. “Good,” Mr. Gap says, his voice full of pride. “Me good.”

The bear is now in the baby’s tiny hands, and her sleepy eyes begin to flutter shut, the soft comfort of the stuffed toy pulling her into a drowsy stupor. You gently rock her back and forth, watching as she drifts off to sleep, clutching the bear to her chest like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“Thank you, Mr. Gap,” you say softly, though he’s long disappeared back into his shadowy realm. You’re not sure if he heard, but you still find yourself whispering it anyway.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels a little bit lighter.

MR. MACHETE

“What… that?” he asks, a finger lazily pointing at your baby nestled in your arms.

“It’s my baby!” you reply, pridefully, and cradle her for exaggeration. Within a second, your face falls firm, and you sternly say, “No fighting little thing.”

“Not fight?” Mr. Machete’s jagged smile turns into a comical looking frown. He scowls, and turns away. “Not interested.”

“Mr. Macheteee,” you whine, “Just look at her! Isn’t she just so cute?”

Mr. Machete pauses mid-step, his broad shoulders tensing at your words. He lets out a huff, loud and exaggerated, before reluctantly glancing over his shoulder. “Cute?” he echoes, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. His tone is skeptical, almost offended. His machete falls to his side, an ear-scratching ‘clang!’ that disturbs you more than your baby.

The baby coos, her tiny hands waving aimlessly in the air. Her bright, gummy smile beams up at him, and for a moment, Mr. Machete looks genuinely stumped. 

“Them small. Shape wrong,” he notes, leaning in closer. His massive frame looms over her, but he makes no move to get too close. “Weak. No teeth. Cannot hold attack tool.”

He stares at the baby a moment longer, his scowl softening ever so slightly as the baby giggles, a bright, happy sound that cuts through his rough demeanor like a blade. She reaches toward him, her tiny fingers grabbing at the air, and for reasons you don’t quite understand, he doesn’t immediately pull away.

The baby’s determination seems to intrigue him. He tilts his head and extends a single finger- not a threatening move, but cautious, almost testing. Her tiny hand catches his finger, and she grips it tightly, her toothless grin growing impossibly wider.

“Them strong,” he finally admits, his voice low but tinged with what could almost be considered respect. “When little thing big, fight.”

You roll your eyes. Well, at least he gave your baby some attention.

[fuctacles]

<< nine | 😺 | eleven >>

Posting early so you have something to think about on Thanksgiving. I'll be taking a break from posting my wips in December to focus on all the events. Speaking of, check out @genderthings @stmonstercalendar and @stevieweek

"They're so—" Eddie's sentence is broken with a yelp when Stephanie slaps his hands. 

"Fluffy?" Steph offers, going back to closing up her salon. "Soft? Healthy? They won't be if you keep touching them."

He huffs, slotting his hands under his armpits so he wouldn't be tempted to reach up. 

"If you want, I can get you some of that conditioner to take home. You could charm all the city girls with your nice hair." She turns to him with a smile, looking over her work once again. She pulls a strand of his hair back in place and Eddie imagines his band making it big, touring with a private hairdresser fussing over him before every concert. They'd take all the cats on the tour bus too.

"The city girls like my unkempt poor artist looks, thank you very much," he jokes. "The boys may appreciate it, though."

"For the boys, then." She smiles. "Did you walk here?"

He shakes his head. 

"Nah, I'm too lazy for that. You?"

"I try to walk to work as long as the weather lets me," she says. "Need to keep the old bones in shape." She pats her plush thighs distractingly, but it's not enough for Eddie to miss her words. 

He rolls his eyes. 

"Your bones aren't old. I was gonna offer you a ride, but maybe you deserve to walk since you're so young and energetic," he sends her a wry look. 

"Ah, but I always wanted a ride in a big old kidnapper van!" She bats her eyelashes at him, her playful pout in full swing. Eddie is so, so weak. 

"Don't call it a kidnapper van." He scrunches his nose. "It's a stoner slash garage band van," he corrects her.

"Ah, mea culpa. Lead me to your stoner van, then?"

"You call yourself old and yet you act so insufferable," he shakes his head with a smile and offers her his elbow. 

"Gotta keep something about me young," she jokes back and then yelps when Eddie pinches her in the side as she grabs his arm. 

"I think there's plenty young about you," he says, giving her a pointed up and down. 

"Yeah, bet you say it to all the old ladies," she snarks back. "When you help them cross the street or carry their—ah!"

"Oh my gods, Stephanie!" Eddie cuts her off, pressing her against the side of his van. "If you think you're old then call me a geriatrophiliac, because you're so hot I can't think about anyone else."

Steph's eyes are wide and her cheeks are flushed and he wants to kiss her so badly. He backs away, though, because he's a gentleman (sometimes) and wants to give her some space. Besides, he probably just crossed some lines he shouldn't have. 

She breathes out once he steps back, and chuckles. 

"You're just saying that," she deflects, making something in Eddie boil. "You're out there in college and I'm stuck here with my small hair salon."

"Oh, you mean you're a successful hot businesswoman with her own salon and plans to branch it out?" He raises an eyebrow, putting his hands on his hips.

"Plans," she points out. 

"Very plausible plans," he adds. 

Stephanie shrugs. 

"Just, get in the car before I lose my patience." He shakes his head. But then seeing her hesitance he deflates, losing his bravado instantly. "Unless you're not comfortable with that? I promise I'll drive you straight home."

"Why would I be uncomfortable?" she asks, her voice a little small like she knows exactly why but doesn't want to put it out there. Albeit reluctantly, Eddie will do it for her. 

"Because I said I'm into you and now I'm inviting you inside my shady not-kidnapper van," he reminds her. 

"Yeah, but you're just saying that to make me feel better." Steph shakes her head softly, smiling her small, self-deprecating smile. "Which I do appreciate, but..." she trails off with a shrug.

Eddie is fed up with her. As beautiful as she is, her head is a maze she's clearly getting lost in and someone needs to pull her out of it. 

"Can I kiss you?" he butts in, realizing she's losing steam.

"What?" Her eyebrows jump in surprise. 

"Oh, you heard me." He takes a step closer, crowding her in. Maybe space is the opposite of what she needs. "Can I kiss you?" he repeats. "On the mouth. Tongue and all, if you don't mind."

He watches in real time as her cheeks turn red and her gaze drops down to his lips. 

"Here?" she breathes out. 

"Yes, here. So everyone knows how lucky I am." 

She looks up into his eyes, searching for any deceit but she won't find any. Her lips press together and come back shinier, wetter, and Eddie's own tingle in anticipation.

"Are you sure?"

Eddie's done with her. And done for her. He knows she won't admit what she wants, won't ask for it even when laid down on a silver platter in front of her. So he changes his question. 

"Just say 'no'." He leans just a tiny bit closer. 

She doesn't. Her eyes zero on his lips and her chest expands with her deep breaths. Eddie leans in more, and she twitches like she wants to reach back but won't. 

He closes the distance. 

Stephanie smells of hairspray and coffee. She's soft and perfect and he's afraid she'll flee if he touches her, but to ground them both, he reaches with his arms to cup her elbows, a safe place to hold her and not spook her. He moves his lips gently, slowly, but then he feels a tug on his jacket, which she grabs to hold on to him, and presses just a little bit closer. 

Eddie feels the exhale from her nose on his cheek as she relaxes against the van, giving him the illusion of towering over her, despite them being almost the same height. He slowly drags his hands up to caress her neck, angling her jaw gently how he wants it. When he finally sucks on her pouty bottom lip as he's been dreaming of, she exhales into him, tentative yet asking. She jolts at the touch of his tongue but parts her lips further anyway.

She feels like heaven and Eddie is almost ashamed by the sound he makes after tasting her properly, but her hand slides to his waist and he doesn't care about making a fool of himself in front of her and anyone else for that matter. 

If she wanted to, he'd deck himself in full jester attire just to make her smile, to take the load of worry off her chest. Oh, how he wants to take things off her chest. It's been a while since a simple kiss made him feel so giddy, so exhilarated, and he hopes she feels it too. 

He's excited for what's to come, not just in bed, though he hopes, yearns for that too, but making her happy and whole, seeing herself how he sees her. 

The sharp sound of a whistle pulls them apart. 

"Get a room, kids!" someone laughs jovially as a car slowly passes by, but by the time their heads snap towards it, it's gone behind the corner. 

"Well," Eddie chuckles softly. "Still feeling old?" he asks Steph with a smile that quickly falters when he can't read her expression. A million things he could have done wrong fleet through his head and he takes half a step back, but her hand is still holding on to his jacket. 

She's still relaxed against the van, so he forces his brain to quiet and waits. Her head tips back, exposing her neck and the faintest hint of an Adam's apple, invisible otherwise. He's ridiculously happy to be able to see it and hopes he'll be able to suck on it too. 

"I feel..." she finally says, and Eddie latches to every sound leaving her lips. "Something, for sure."

Nothing else comes so he trails his palm down her arm to gently squeeze at her wrist. 

"Good something?" he asks hopefully.

Their eyes meet again, giving him some relief, though the prolonged silence is fighting against it. He still waits and gives her time to think. She doesn't shake off his hand so he rubs his thumb against her pulse point.

Until it twists in his grasp, and he's ready to let go but she grabs at his fingers to squeeze back.

"I think so," she finally decides, giving him a small, tentative smile. 

my ko-fi bc i'm in deeper shit than i thought

the boys: @wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94

@tartarusknight  @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman

@madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system @lawrencebshoggoth

@hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @dreamercec @manliest-of-muppets

[masonmontz]

hellooo everyone :) i hope you like it, this was incomplete for a long time and i did my best to try to get it ready and post it

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

angst/fluff word count: 3,5k

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

It's not that you hate Mason's friends, far from it, but you just... don't fit into their lifestyle. 

You and Mason have been together for a few months now and yet you still feel out of place in his reality, especially since his friends act like you don't exist. You actually enjoy talking to them and you think they're fun, but it annoys you when they invite Mason to parties as if he were single, or talk about other girls in front of you and even ask Mason's opinion about them.

Mason never made you doubt his feelings for you, but all of this has been building up and making you stressed.

It was Wednesday afternoon and you were at Mason's house working on your computer, Mason had training and he wouldn't be back for another hour. Erik changed today's training time ‘cause he had an appointment and so Mason would be at Carrington until 7pm. The doorbell ringing startled you, you weren't expecting anyone, not even Mason's family.

You were surprised to see Woody standing at the door of Mason's house with two women behind him, and apparently he thought it was strange that you answered the door.

“Y/n, hey, I didn’t know you were here” Woody spoke and scratched his head, a little embarrassed.

“Hello, Woody. It’s good to see you” you said and then looked at the two model-like women behind him. “Mason is still in Carrington, do you need to talk to him?”

Woody walked up the two steps of the stairs and you let him in, and the two women he was with followed him. Of course, Mason's house is also the house of his best friends.

“Yeah, actually we had planned to go to a party today. It's Stella's birthday” he pointed to the blonde woman in the red dress, and she smiled at you.

“Happy birthday Stella” you smiled at her and turned to Woody again. “He didn't tell me anything, Mason and I arranged to go out for dinner.”

“Well, he confirmed that he's going to the party, I hope you don't mind leaving dinner for another day.” 

“No, of course not, I'll just wait for him to arrive so I can change” you said and pointed to the gym clothes you were wearing. 

“Actually, Y/n…” Woody started with a tone of voice you didn't like.

“All the seats at the party have been reserved, I can't put any more names on the list, I'm sorry” the brunette woman spoke for Woody, and you were speechless as the three of them stared at you standing in the middle of the living room in Mason's house.

“Yeah, of course” you smiled, even though you were angry at Woody for doing the same thing he always did, acting like Mason was still single. 

“I hope you don't mind Mason going alone, but he's my friend and I really wanted him there” Stella said and you agreed. “Oh, Woody said you weren't very nice but you are.”

Woody's eyes widened and you glared at him, watching him swallow hard. You smiled fakely at Stella.

“Yeah, I don't think Woody is very cool either and I hope he knows that” you spoke at the same moment the door opened and Mason walked in, and he heard you talking about Woody. “Have fun tonight.”

You grabbed your computer from the living room table and went upstairs, trying to take a deep breath while knowing everyone was staring at you.

“Woody, what are you doing here, mate?” you heard Mason asking his friend. 

“It's Stella's birthday man, you remember how much fun you two had, right?” was the last thing you heard before the bedroom door slammed shut. You took a deep breath once, twice, three times, even though it was difficult.

You were sick of being treated like you meant nothing to Mason, and he wouldn't even tell his friends to stop it, and that was what hurt you the most, he cares so much about his friends that he doesn't realize that you're the one who's getting upset about all this.

You packed your things and put away your computer, there was no way you were going to stay there any longer. You heard laughter from downstairs and it made you even more frustrated with Mason. 

It wouldn't be nice to leave Mason's house with all of them staring at you in the living room, but you also didn't want to wait until they left, which could take hours. You honestly wanted to cry, but you hated feeling helpless and crying in front of someone, even if it was the person you gave your heart to.

Fuck him and his friends.

“Mate, I bought a ticket for a party in Ibiza during the international break, we have to go. I bought your ticket too” Woody said to Mason, and you could see that they were sitting on the couch. Mason was in the middle of Woody and Stella.

“I have to ask Y/n if she wants to go and-”

“Bro, she hates us and she won't want to go, you have to go alone, it will be fun.”

“Yeah, I'll think about it” Mason spoke softly and you snorted.

“Who knows, maybe I'll go to Ibiza with you guys? Polly can go too” Stella said and you walked down the stairs, you didn't want them to see you but it was impossible to leave without being noticed. Mason's gaze went to your bags and he noticed that you were leaving.

“Where are you going?” he asked but you didn’t look at him, you continued towards the exit door. “Y/n?”

Mason followed behind you and closed the door when you were both outside, and finally you looked up at him and he saw the tears in your eyes. 

“I’m going home” you spoke softly and Mason lost focus for a few seconds. “You can go to the party, I won't stop you from going.”

“You’re going with me.”

“Oh, am I? I’m sorry, your friend was pretty clear when he said that there’s no space for me there” you said and felt a tear fall, but the last thing you wanted was to cry in front of Mason.

“He didn't mean it, you were rude to him and said you don't like him and-”

“What?” you weren't believing what Mason was saying. It wasn't the first time he defended Woody or Declan or Benny from you, and he never defended you the same way to them, he just accepts what they say about you.

“Look, Woody is one of my best friends, you know that. If you love me, then you should like them too because they’re my family.”

“Yeah, you're right. But maybe they don't love you as much since they don't like me.”

“What are you saying?”

“You always let them say whatever they want about me, Mason. You never stood up for me, ever. How do you think I feel when my boyfriend lets his friends talk about other girls or bring women over to his house while I'm here?”

“They are my friends.”

“I have friends too, Mason, and they've never disrespected you the way Woody or Declan do to me. I heard Woody saying that you and Stella had fun, do you think it didn't hurt to hear that? They don't think I'm enough for you?”

“I love you, that's enough” Mason spoke with his hands in his hair, huffing.

“Yeah, only in your dreams will I spend the rest of my life putting up with this.”

“Don't go away, let's talk, there's no reason to make this drama, love” Mason tried to pull you away but you pushed his arm away, shaking your head. “Y/n, please, let's go inside.”

“No, Mason. You don’t understand” you said frustratedly, finally crying and sobbing. “I don't want to hear any more bullshit about other women while I'm around. I don't want to know who you were with before me, they have no respect for me and you don't do anything about it. Declan cheats on Lauren all the time and encourages you to do the same, you think I don't feel stupid? He's a jerk and she should dump him, and it hurts me when you don't say anything about it because you're their child's godfather and you think it's funny that he has been cheating on her the whole time.”

“I don't think it’s funny.”

“So you hide very well that you care about her or Jude” you wiped your eyes, looking at Mason who looked sad. “I really think you're not ready for a relationship, maybe you really love your friends and they’re your priority, but the Mason I knew is not this guy in front of me.”

“Hey, no, c’mon, I love you, I didn't know you felt that way.”

“Exactly, you care more about them than me.”

You turned your back and Mason tried to pull you towards him, but you refused and cried as you walked away. You looked at him one last time and saw Mason's eyes full of tears, but you chose to turn around and leave.

“Y/, don’t go, please.”

“When you realize what's wrong we can talk again.”

Mason watches in shock as you get into an Uber without looking back, it's like he's trapped in a nightmare but he can't do anything because he's tied up. He stood there for several minutes staring at the street until he felt raindrops and went into the house, hearing Woody and the women's laughter as soon as he entered.

“Mase, you can change your clothes now so we can go, what do you think?” Stella asked, but Mason's mind was far away. He looked at Woody sitting on the couch with Polly sitting on his lap, and for the first time in months Mason realized the reasons that made you leave.

“I'm not going, you can go” he muttered before turning his back and heading towards the stairs.

“Mate, what do you mean? Y/n told us to go and have fun” Woody said and Mason turned his face in time to see his friend get up from the couch and walk towards him. 

“Shit, Woody, she broke up with me. Please go away now, I don’t want you here for now” Mason realized that you really did leave. He needs to be stuck in his own misery for a while. 

“That's why we should go out, man, so you can forget about her, like old times.”

“Get out.”

“What the fuck?” Woody really wasn't understanding Mason, and it pissed him off, because now everything was obvious and Mason was the only idiot who didn't realize he was losing you. “What did Y/n say about me? She's an idiot, don't pay attention to her.”

“Don't you dare talk about her like that again” Mason pointed a finger at Woody, who was startled by Mason's tone. “Get out of here, all of you.”

Mason didn't wait for an answer and went upstairs without looking back, he took his phone out of his pocket and called you, but you didn't answer any of the times he called, nor did you even respond to the several messages apologizing that he sent.

Mason threw himself on the bed and sighed, how could he be so stupid? It was all so obvious in front of him, but Mason was more concerned about his friends than the woman he loves.

He called more than twenty times and you didn't answer any of the calls, nor did you respond to his multiple messages apologizing. Mason's heart raced as he thought he may have lost you forever because he was childish and stupid. 

Panic washed over him and Mason gasped, he ran his hands through his hair in despair and anger. Mason couldn't blame you for deciding to leave, he understands, but saying his heart wasn't hurting was a lie. Mason never felt that way, ever.

A tear ran down his face, then another and then another, and before Mason knew it he was sobbing and thinking about everything you had said to him. It was so stupid that he didn't realize how you felt about Woody or Declan, and Mason couldn't even judge you, because in all these months he really was a terrible boyfriend and only now could he realize it.

He actually let his friends take him to parties, he didn't mind when Woody brought women to him, and Mason never thought about hooking up with them, but now he realized that he wasn't respectful and broke the trust you had in him. And what about Declan? Mason couldn't even think about his best friend having sex with multiple women while he has an amazing person at home waiting for him, plus a son who is the most beautiful child Mason had ever seen. 

Mason feels ashamed that he never said anything to Declan, and he feels ashamed that he didn't protect Lauren and Jude. And he is ashamed because you don’t trust him and broke up with him because of the things he did. 

“Please, please, answer me.”

Another rejected call. Mason is about to despair. 

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹ 

It's been two weeks since you and Mason broke up, and honestly it's been really hard to go through the days without talking to him and trying not to think about him.

You failed every day, of course.

Mason respected the message you sent asking him not to call you, but deep down you wished he hadn't given up. Every day you wonder if he's out partying with Woody, having women all over him and falling in love with the smile you love. It breaks you every time.

“It's not an exaggeration if he listed all his friends as if they were more important than you” Kiera murmured while you were lying down watching a movie, she went to your house because she didn't want to sleep alone, her boyfriend was traveling and would be back the next day. “Honestly, I love Mason, maybe this will make him realize what he did wrong and you guys can get back together.”

“Yeah, but I think he realized he prefers parties and Woody, he didn't call me anymore.”

“You asked him not to call you.”

“I know, but that would show me that he cares about me. Am I wrong?”

“Of course.”

 “Do you think I should call him?”

“You miss him, right? You want him to call you but you asked him not to, he is just doing what you asked and respecting your time, if you are ready to talk, talk to him.”

“Yeah, I think you're right.”

But you didn't call, not the next day or the day after that. You knew Mason was traveling with the team because the next game was far away, and you didn't want to take your problems to him.

You missed him so much you could cry. You missed him when you woke up in the morning and missed his kisses on your neck, you missed having breakfast next to him and laughing at his stupid jokes, you missed him bothering you or lying next to you just watching some movie that neither of you paid attention to.

It was very cold in Manchester and the streets were already starting to have Christmas decorations, and that made you happy, it's the best time of the year. You went out for a walk in the late afternoon, the sun was setting and some people were walking along the streets. 

It was crazy, but you swore you saw Mason's car parked at the pie shop when you were at the door, your favorite in the whole town. Mason also knew how much you liked chocolate pie, and he would always buy you a pie when he passed by.

But it wasn't crazy, ‘cause Mason came out carrying a box of pie just as you were about to climb the stairs to enter the store. You could have fallen if you weren't holding onto the railing, and Mason's eyes widened when he saw you. 

He looked so handsome, his hair cropped because of the cut on his head, and he was wearing sweatpants and slippers. You couldn't help but smile when you saw his comfortable clothes.

“Did Ace eat all your sneakers?” 

Mason breathed a sigh of relief when you asked, and the smile he gave you melted your heart. 

“It would be too much work to put on sneakers, I preferred to go out like this” he walked down the two steps and stopped in front of you, your heart raced and you could feel your own hands shaking. Oh my God, it's Mason, why are you nervous? 

You were silent for a few seconds, but Mason didn't take his eyes off you.

“So… how are you?” you asked, and Mason pulled you aside as a couple walked out of the pie shop. His touch on your arm sent you over the moon, and that was enough for you to realize that the time you needed was over.

“Honestly? I'm a mess” he confessed and you felt a pang of guilt, but you knew he needed that time too. “Do you want to talk here? Are you ready?”

“Hum- no, yes, I’m ready, but I don’t want to talk here” you spoke and he agreed. “We can go to my house. Are you going to take the pie to someone?” you pointed to the box in his hands.

“No, I bought it for myself” Mason scratched his head in embarrassment and you raised your eyebrows. “I don't know, chocolate pie reminds me of you and I was missing you.”

“Just like I'm watching Game of Thrones like crazy, then.”

“Oh, you said it was boring” he accused you, grinning, and you shrugged as you followed Mason to the car.

“You know I only watch ‘cause of Daenerys” you stopped next to Mason as he opened the car door for you, his scent reminded you of how much you missed him and you couldn't help but hug him, almost making him drop the pie box. 

“I wasn't expecting that” he murmured as he left a kiss on your hair, hugging you with just one arm and you held his waist tightly, afraid that he would leave. “Oh God, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, sorry” you let go of him and smiled, feeling like a part of you was whole again. 

You walked in silence to your house, and even so it wasn't bad, the smile you both had on your lips already said a lot. 

“My mum is missing you, she almost hit me for not taking you to London with me on the international break.”

“Did you tell her what happened?” you asked as you grabbed two plates for you two to eat the chocolate pie that looked delicious. 

“No, I said you were busy” he sighed and shrugged, but Mason still looked wary. “I was a bad boyfriend, Y/n, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. I should never have put other things first, you are the most important person to me and I hate myself for disappointing you and making you distrust me.” 

You just looked at Mason. He wasn't the same man you left three weeks ago, the man in front of you recognized his own mistakes, and that was clear and enough for you. 

“I'm sorry for the things you went through, I was an idiot and didn't realize it. I should never have let Woody take those women to my house or treated you the way he did, I should have stood up for you.”

“It's okay, I forgive you.” 

Mason sighed in relief when you approached him, and this time he hugged you so tightly as if he would never let you go. 

And you didn't want him to let you go again. 

“I love you. I love you so fucking much, Y/n, oh my God, how did I manage to go three weeks without talking to you or seeing you?” Mason put his hands on your shoulders and shook you, making you laugh. 

“I had no one to fetch water for me at night.”

“Did you just miss me because of that? I'm taking this pie home and you're not going to eat it.”

“Actually, I think we can eat while watching Game of Thrones?”

“I knew you liked the series, you just didn't want to admit it to me.”

Mason took the pie into the living room and you grabbed a blanket from your bedroom, ready to snuggle into it for hours and hours. You walked back into the living room and Mason was smiling on the couch as he waited for you, and you couldn't help but smile and feel like everything was okay again.

Mason hugged you as you laid down next to him, he was warm and comfortable and even you didn't understand how you managed to spend so much time away from him. 

Mason was your home, and not even so many days away would change that.

[hyperions-light]

A home in life, a berth in death, a house of many mansions: the Necropolis fucks

Before the game came out the Necropolis was one of the top five places I was hoping they would let us visit in Thedas and I'm so thrilled it did not disappoint! The architecture, the atmosphere is impeccable, the reactivity everywhere (cleansing the Vault of the Beloved, the secret room that appears, the skeleton workers that begin cleaning different areas as the game progresses), the detail in everything. Did you know that in the room where you get the codex entry about the flesh-eating beetles, you can look down and see them running across the floor? Love it!

But the environment itself is only an aspect of what makes the Necropolis so much fun; the insight we finally get into Nevarran culture is possibly the most important thing that comes out of it. The only Nevarran we've really met before was Cassie (love her, she was not very informative, though), so to actually get to meet people who serve as stewards to one of the most sacred cultural rites is incredible and exactly what I wanted from this game. I loved discovering their unique perspective on magic, and how they handle their Templar Order.

It's also a fascinating lore point to discover that Emmrich can speak to the dead; we've never actually encountered a REAL ghost in DA, I don't think. There have been things which appeared to be pieces of once-living people, but it could always be explained by 1) weird magic causing them to live past their normal lifespan 2) a spirit acting as a dead person. Emmrich makes a distinction between speaking with real dead people and imbuing a once-living body/articulated skeleton with a spirit. This is so cool and interesting! And they've been doing this consistently and regularly, to talk to the late King Markus! All the magic applications in this game make the South seem so boring lol (but that's for another post).

And I love that the Necropolis itself is considered alive by the Watchers! It moves and rearranges its own configuration in accordance with some sort of unknown will; is it partially built inside the Fade? Is it imbued with magical energies, like Arlathan was? How old is it? Is the reason it functions this way because it's so old that it predates the separation of the Fade from the material world, or is it just that the Veil is thin there? Are the Lichlords the ones directing the Necropolis? How? So many interesting implications and questions brought up by just the building itself!

I think my favorite thing about the Necropolis and the Watchers, though, is how they present death. Most of the cultures that we've encountered so far in Thedas view death as a universally negative thing, but the Nevarrans celebrate its place in the cycle of existence. In the gardens, which are such a beautiful, peaceful location, there's a puzzle you can do where you have to turn on a series of meditation bells in a specific order to get into a treasure room; when you put together the poetry accompanying each bell in the correctly, they describe (metaphorically) the movement of a person through life and into death. It's such a gorgeous little detail, and I love the way the Necropolis is designed to encourage the player to think about death (it also folds in so neatly to Emmrich's personal plotline!), especially since it is so integral to the game as a whole (yet another different post).

Visiting Blackthorne Manor and picking up mementos in the Necropolis shows that, this death positivity is, in fact, a pervasive cultural attitude. Nevarrans believe that they have a duty to each other that persists after they die; that the body can keep being useful; that the living should honor the dead. It's such an interesting perspective that was missing from the DA series; people die all the time, and, of course, it's intended to make the player sad, but DA has never seriously discussed death, its implications, what it truly means or how it affects those left behind. They've never really made you sit and look at it as the player. There are some sad lines after Leandra dies in DA2, but it's mostly in the narrative to give Hawke a reason to hate blood magic and stuff. There's no funeral. There's a few lines from Gamlen, Hawke, and your companions, and then the game moves on. It's always like that; the game gives you a moment to be sad, and then it moves on. There's no mourning. But this game is partially about mourning! It's about people being gone, and it being too late; it insists you look at death and deal with it, and the Necropolis is the epitome of this.

The game asks the question over and over what you think the characters should do in response to their own losses, and the Necropolis represents are really interesting, nuanced, answer to that question. They're not gone; they're right there. They're still with you. You can go and visit them and celebrate who they were in a place that honors and cares for them, still. It's so beautiful and interesting and full of love, for the living and the dead.

I didn't even talk about Emmrich's plotline or the class differences in the Necropolis, or how everyone there is a weird goth nerd and I love it so much, but I think that's really the important point: the symbiosis. The living; the dead; the spirits; the corporeal, all finding a way to be together.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

The only way i could see Canon Katara interested on Zuko is if he somehow did his Heel Turn long before the start of the show and has become a freedom fighter akin to Jet, but without the murder.

Obviously, this is impossible, there is no way that a young Zuko could become a better person without his exile, his enviroment is just not place that encourage

Sorry for the last question i send, i made a mistake and send it sooner than i wanted.

But anyway, what i tried to say that, even if that ridiculous scenario that i propossed where to happen, Zuko would be a very different characther from his Canon self. Plus even if he has become Katara's type, there is no way to know if Katara would be Zuko's type on that scenario lol

***

Once again, guys: pre-scar and exile Zuko was already dealing with a ton of bagagge, and post-redemption Zuko was already a "freedom fighter but without the murder." Katara saw him at this worst during all of book one, at his somewhat less of dick moments (Ba Sing Se), and at his best after his redemption - and she wasn't attracted to him at any of these points.

"I don't support war, genocide and/or murder" is the bare minimum for Katara to not want somebody dead. Compassion is an obligation, not something that immediately makes a guy be a potential boyfriend in her eyes.

We have the answer of what would take for her to be into Zuko, and that answer is not "He can't be a villain anymore" but rather "He can't be Zuko." He can't be a dork that says the wrong thing in a funny way, she'd get mad. He can't want to live in the Fire Nation, there's nothing there for her. He can't be as stubborn as she is, otherwise they're gonna fight (just look at how many times she fights with Toph). He can't take himself too seriously, she'll just mock him for it (ask Sokka).

She wants the guy that literally sweeps her off her feet to charm her, or the guy that notices she's feeling left out at a party, dances with her, and smoothly tells her to ignore everyone's eyes on them because "it's just you and me." She would NOT react well to a guy that screams "SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!" in the middle of their date (just see how well it worked for Aang when he went "I mean, if it was between kissing you and dying")

And we do know what Zuko's type is: Mai. Gloomy yet sweet, bitchy yet unbothered, out-spoken yet doesn't feel she owes anybody any explanations ever, can handle herself but likes being pampered, apathetic yet caring, has nothing prove yet can be quite arrogant, stubborn yet understanding, aloof to the world in general yet obviously crazy about him in particular.

Zuko might catch brief feelings for someone like Jin (nice, sweet and cheery), but long-term he needs someone as messy as himself so he can relate, but with the kind of mess that balances him out instead of encouraging his worst traits - the yin to his yang. He was not kidding when he said "You're so beautiful when you hate the world"

Katara loves life in general too much for her and Zuko to relate to each other in that regard. She doesn't even know what the word "apathy" means. She doesn't have an "unbothered" bone in her body. Girl went through a ton of trauma and still wasn't anywhere near gloomy, quite the contrary. And she has a bad temper, just like Zuko, which they both know is a bad combo, hence them surrounding themselves with more chill people (Aang, Iroh, Hakoda, Mai, etc).

They're not each other's type AT ALL, hence there being no spark when they become friends. Hence them being not just embarassed, but weirded our and uncomfortable when people mistake them for a couple.

There's a reason zutara fics re-write their personalities completely: there's no other way to force them together because they're fundamentally incompatible. The real Zuko would NEVER be attracted to the real Katara, and vice versa.

[diangelodork]

guys i’m really bad at writing actual fics so im gonna start posting snippets from fics i have concepts of plans for but go like this “👁️👄👁️” when i try to actually write them so HERES THE FIRST ONE LMAO (payneland, post get together, the monty talk tm - talk of consent and lack thereof, jealous charles rowland)

edwin took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say. he pressed his fists against one another, lifting his head up to look at his lover who had his legs splayed out in front of himself on their couch. edwin cleared his throat once. “charles, i did- i think it may be wise to delve into my prior feelings about… monty,” he said, treading cautiously. he knew how quickly the mere mention of that name riled his boyfriend up.

“you don’t have to. y’know, if you don’t want to,” charles answered far too quickly, trying for nonchalance, but edwin caught how his shoulders squared off and his fingers tensed. edwin knew that he didn’t want to hear it, but he just wanted to be honest with his boyfriend.

“i’d like to tell you, if you’d let me, my dove,” he said, layering a thick layer of saccharine onto the term of endearment and walked over to the couch. charles was much more amenable to listening to him when he brought out the old-fashioned pet names.

a warm smile broke out onto charles’ face, eyes wrinkled and adoring. he held his hands out, silently asking to be closer to his lover. when edwin sat down beside him, he hauled him up into his lap, sighing at how nicely they fit together. “go on then, love,” charles said, stroking up and down edwin’s arm. charles was purposeful in the way he held him, making it so that his back would be flush up against charles’ chest. not only was it nice to bury his face in his hair, but he wouldn’t be able to see the inevitable frustration on his face when he began regaling tales of monty.

edwin tried to relax into the touch, but it was still something they were working on, the slackening of his rigid posture. the evident discomfort both boys had about the topic certainly didn’t help in this. his head fell to charles’ shoulder in a matter of moments before he readied himself to speak.

“do you remember how he and i went on that walk? after the case of the two dead dragons?” edwin asked.

“mmm,” charles hummed in verification. his jaw was already clenched and edwin hadn’t even said much of anything yet.

“well, we ended up at this children’s park and we sat on the swings and i had told him that we should stop seeing each other,” edwin explained easily, as if it wasn’t even a big deal. seeing each other? charles hadn’t known they were ever officially a thing. edwin was still his best friend then, why hadn’t he told him? he restrained from huffing and let edwin continue without interruption, keeping his hands busy by stroking his thumbs up and down edwin’s sleeves.

“i told him about my…” edwin trailed off for a moment, inhaling the nonexistent scent that would lie on charles’ shoulder. the tension released from his body ever so slightly, and his voice was a bit quieter when he spoke again. “feelings. i told him how much they scared me,” he confessed.

the frustration washed away from charles with edwin’s soft-spoken words, leaving compassion for his lover in their wake. he hated hearing that edwin was scared and that he couldn’t protect him. maybe it was foolish as it was already in the past, but it mattered to him.

“but it seems he misinterpreted me and he… kissed me,” edwin says and oh, charles could seemingly feel the heat rising once more. it seemed he could be angry! what a development!

“oh. cool. was it- was it good?” charles asked, heat creeping into his voice. he had tried to hide it, but somehow, the jealousy festered even though he knew that it was him with the boy on his lap and not that crow’s.

“my love, i know i do not have to tell you that needn’t be jealous. i truly only have eyes for you, and i know you are aware of that,” edwin cooed and he used his power over charles like a weapon. he shifted his body so that he could cup charles’ face with one hand, pressing their lips together. “i adore you, charles. not him.”

he was ever too convincing and he knew it.

“yeah, i know,” charles said, trying for a bit less of a sopping puddle than what came out.

“good,” edwin smiled still, lips curling up beautifully. he pressed another kiss to the tip of charles’ nose this time before continuing. “i did not like it, or dislike it, really. i had liked him, at one point, but it was never- it could never possibly be in any way comparable with my affinity for you. it had taken me by surprise, of course, as that was decidedly not my intention in telling him that we should stop seeing each other, but i do not fault him. i know my wording is difficult to understand, on occasion. i’m not angry with him. not for that, at least. it still rather hurts that he betrayed us,” edwin said, his voice smaller toward the end.

“wait, you mean- you were trying to reject him and he kissed you?” charles asked, panic and anger rising and flowing into one another, his core fiery. not only had this birdbrain kissed his boyfriend, but he hadn’t even consented? had edwin not been firmly on his lap, he’d’ve been all the way back in port townsend now. he may not be good at mirror travel, but the pure, unbridled rage festering within him blinded him to that fact.

“yes, but, listen to me, my love,” edwin said, a small amount of panic in his voice. “he hadn’t done so on purpose. he thought i had meant that i was afraid of making it real. he didn’t simply kiss me because i was trying to reject him,” edwin tried to amend, but charles could hardly hear it over the blood rushing in his ears.

“bloody git. i’ll pluck all his feathers out,” charles said, now unable to hide his anger and frustration. his fingers tensed as he gripped edwin’s waist, fingers digging into his sides. edwin let out a small gasp.

“charles, he helped me uncover my feelings for you,” edwin said finally, a plea in his voice.

charles stopped at that, considering it. had it not been for that cunt, edwin would probably never have figured out his feelings for him? he didn’t forgive him, not by any means, but he did know just what to say to get edwin to laugh.

he let the tension seep out of his own body, forcing himself to relax. “oh. i’ll send him a fruit basket,” charles said plainly, masking any frustration that remained. he was still upset about it, but he was okay enough for him stop worrying about it while edwin was with him. he’d figure out the rest on his own time.

a laugh bubbled up, escaping edwin’s lips. “he’s still in crow form, i believe,” he said, turning to charles with a smile.

charles captured his lips in a chaste kiss, “then i’ll send him a seed basket,” he said against his lips. edwin wrapped his arms around his neck and charles couldn’t find it in himself to care any more at that moment. not with the loveliest boy in the world on his lap. kissing him. (and if the sense of possessiveness that edwin returned through their kiss added to a very different sort of heat in his core, that was no one’s business but charles’. and maybe edwin’s. definitely edwin’s.)

[valar-did-me-wrong]

I'll answer about the "work Adar does to heal himself part" but first I believe noone said the choice/work needs to be done to become worthy to get healed by Nenya.

I believe me & the other person above were saying Nenya can't heal evil like that, you have to heal that evil inside you yourself. We were talking how Nenya can aid you in healing but it can't do the self searching, acceptance & repentance that healing involves. (Precisely why sauron won't have benefited from it)

And as someone said in another post related to this topic; which has suddenly replaced the celeborn hate of last month for some reason, Sauron has already had atleast 2 other people try & aid him in this matter since S1.

Diarmid gives him advice on how to move on and chose good everyday, that's how you get forgiven. Galadriel keeps on telling him in S1 how he should let go of the past & start anew. These characters have been trying to aid sauron but he did not listen to any of that. So why suddenly will he listen to Nenya's aid?

S2 shows how he chooses self deception instead of self searching & acceptance and greed & selfishness over repentance. He doesn't want to choose good so no power can redeem him yet.

As for Adar & his choices/work he puts to heal himself. I believe the first thing that differentiates him from Sauron & solidifies his eventual redemption is how they both treat the orcs.

Both Adar & Sauron are involved in the making of orcs.

Sauron treats them as lowly, inferior creatures whom he sees as so unworthy that they are just disposable slaves to him, despite being his own creations; albeit flawed.

Adar on the other hand, sees their existence & suffering, knows his involvement in it & instead of hating it & them along with it he chooses to love them, fight for them & try to break the cycle of abuse that perpetuates their plight.

Looking at your mistake, accepting it as a mistake & still not hating the outcome of it is an act that requires self searching & acceptance, it doesn't appear in a vaccum.

This is choosing to do good (not hate beings that did not have any say in their doomed, violent fate & instead try and make their lives easier)

This doesn't erase his crimes against the southlanders but those crimes also don't erase his genuine love for his children. 2 things can be true at once, this show is beautiful in its complexity this way!

Then there are passing instances of choosing to do good on which the show doesn't focus too much but they exist. Like not humiliating & torturing Galadriel in the orc camp like she does with him in S1 & trying to forge an alliance with elves in his fucked up way before the siege.

The show has been sowing the seeds of Adar's redemption ever since the first scene he was in in S1, where he kills one of his children to ease their suffering, which again the show has been consistent with showing his intentions are good but his ways are fucked up.

Which those ways will remain fucked up till Nenya basically does to him what Diarmid & Galadriel in S1 do for Sauron imo.

This is why it actually isn't right to blame showrunners, writers & Galadriel for Sauron's lack of redemption, when Nenya or anything other than Sauron himself cannot heal him of evil.

S1E1 of ROP sets up the theme of "Nothing is evil in the beginning"

This is a true to life imo & nuanced take on evil.

The show expands on it by showing us Sauron in his repentance phase where he is trying to return to his beginnings when he was still good.

S2E1 gives us the theme of the season "To be forgiven one needs to choose good everyday"

Again a very nuanced take on goodness, individual responsibility & willpower.

The show expands on it by simultaneously showing us Adar & Sauron starting on the same side & choosing different paths in the end.

This season shows us Sauron not choosing good, actively harming others and letting his decisions be based on greed & selfishness.

While Adar who's character's evil side was already established in Season 2 with the abuse of Southlanders gets his origins & motives fleshed out and then gets presented with the choice where he chooses good.

This show puts a lot of effort into nuances, complex topics like the cycle of abuse and dark characters that are very human & grounded in reality.

To imply that Magic Ring = Evil Eraser in a show like this imo diminishes the hardwork put into it & all its characters who have their own minds, motivations & challenges. (the very things we praise ROP Galadriel for having)

[marigold-hills]

The Dark Wizard

preview! Wolfstar Howls Moving Castle AU a tiny little bit of the next work I’ll be working on. Posting will begin in December :) massive thanks to the groupchat for checking this over before I posted, you are the absolute best ❤️

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When Remus leaves his hometown, it’s not to seek his fortune, or adventure, or – gods forbid – love. He leaves because he’s a monster, and monsters do not belong in society. They belong in the Waste.

This is how it happens.

It’s May Day. The village of Hogsmead is abuzz with excitement. Revellers and drunks, lovely dressed up ladies and dapper gentlemen circling one another, for propriety's sake staying respectable distances away. The gentlemen whistling at the ladies, the ladies pretending to be aghast by the behaviour, covertly blushing and giggling.

It’s a perfect day. Sunny, warm, bright.

For Remus, it’s perfect for a different reason.

Everyone is too busy to notice their pockets getting lighter. Too buzzed to pay attention to the man dressed in ill-fitting clothes walking too close to others. A casual jostle is just this - casual. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to raise concern.

Remus has a few pilfered wallets in a hidden pocket he sewed into a stolen vest. It’s easy, this. He’s done it for years.

“My apologies,” he smiles at a man in a soldier’s garb, whose money pouch he just appropriated. This one feels good for more than one reason - the soldier was in the process of accosting a lady who did not seem pleased to be accosted. She takes the moment he gets distracted by Remus and ducks away. Remus would like to say that he makes sure to only steal from those who deserve it, but it wouldn’t be true.

Food is food, and money is money, and both are something he needs to live. Remus can’t get a job, on account of being a monster, on account of how many days he has to take out to recuperate and travel somewhere far enough to make sure he wouldn’t let himself loose on his quaint hometown of Hogsmeade. Since his parents’ passing, this is what he’s been reduced to. 

He’s tall but can make himself look unassuming, with hair once golden-auburn and now grey from the effect of too many full moons. It’s perfect for this job, being easy to look over and hard to describe. He’s young but looks old. Feels old, too, but that’s not something for people to see.

Remus makes mistakes in this work so rarely that he doesn’t notice he’s made one until it’s too late.

He’s following a well-dressed man, waiting for an opportunity to strike. The man is exceptionally pretty, with short black curls barely skimming the tops of his ears and a gait like royalty. Remus follows behind him at a stretch, slow and careful, until they round the back of a seedy, dark pub and the man turns around like he is the one who set the trap.

Green eyes like poison.

“Trailing the Wizard of the Waste, that’s brave of you,” the man says with a voice that freezes Remus midstep.

Because he knows better than that. He knows not to go for the people who are dressed overly expensive, with rich black fabrics and shining peacock plumes in their hats. He knows chances are somebody is watching over the really rich. That the possibility of a greater payoff doesn’t compare to the risk of being caught.

And yet here he is: caught.

“Or maybe simply foolish,” the Wizard says. “You don’t look a fool, but such things can be so deceiving, don’t you agree?”

The way his eyes pierce through Remus: all he can think is he knows. Somebody knows. Remus has been found out. 

He turns and runs, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away. Remus remembers what the townspeople did the last time someone was found out. Remembers the stench of burning flesh.

He doesn’t look back once while he flees, not even when the Wizard shouts “my regards to Sirius!”, to his retreating back. 

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tagging you lovely people who had previously been interested in future works - let me know if you want to be in the list for this one as well :)

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

@sweetstarryskies

@a-sunset-outside-my-window

@procrastinatingstuff

@annaliza999

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[cantareincminor]

Fandom Wrapped (Reader Edition) 2024!

Thanks to the wonderful @kattyelf for creating this template! Links and detailed reviews under the cut.

Disclaimer: I probably read hundreds of SxF fics in the past year, and it was not easy to choose which ones to put in the list above (or below)! This fandom is full of wonderful, friendly creators and I am so glad to be part of it. I also had to narrow it down to only the ones I read and reread in 2024, not 2022 or 2023. Finally...I also happened to read many good fics only once. Sometimes a fic is just too painful or sad to reread, especially if it's not finished.

Favorite fic and author: After peace by @unhappy-sometimes!

I could gush about unso for a whole post and not be done, but I will try to contain myself. Her fic After peace originated from an AU comic she drew where Twilight was forced to retire early due a major injury, and drifted aimlessly until WISE asked him to take care of an orphan they had rescued from Project Apple. There are several things that amazed me about this fic and cemented it in first place for 2024:

The premise. It was original and so full of potential.

How personal Twilight's journey felt to me. I didn't have a life-threatening injury, but I did put my career on hiatus in the past year and have often struggled with questions of -- what am I worth when I'm not "doing" anything? I was so used to going 150% in the rat race and coming out on top at great personal cost to health and family; even if all that was bad, how else can I get that sense of accomplishment? How can I stop wanting that sense of accomplishment?

Her style, which is both vivid AND concise. The fic was around 22K words if I remember correctly, with a well-constructed plot, character arcs, plenty of emotional beats, and a satisfying resolution. I often wonder if my writing is too verbose and when I see something like After peace, it challenges me to do better.

THIS WAS UNSO'S FIRST FIC EVER. THE HELL. It's like a freshman album that gets put up for a Grammy.

Fic(s) I reread (plus runners-up):

That Time Yor Seriously Thought About Leaving by peonydee: This is a WIP with one more chapter before completion, I believe. Peonydee's style is unique in how it's hard-hitting and disarming at the same time. Yor and Twilight find themselves in impossible situations, their relationship tested to the limit (and one of them in a close brush with death), yet there's still an undercurrent of wry humor, almost fatalistic due to the fact both of them have been steeped in death and dirty work for decades, yet still hopeful and reaching for each other. I also cackle every time she makes Twilight go off on a mansplaining tangent without ever using the term outright. A masterpiece of show not tell.

Is It Really All Right? by zyzy1083: This one is tender. A jealous!Loid fic with a fascinating portrayal of Loid from Yor's perspective. The imagery of a dark sea choking down any true thought or emotion from breaking for air will stay with me for a long time. There's also the fact she basically made up lyrics for an indie song as part of the plot and I had to ask whether it was a real song. Finally, there's the fact she was bold enough to portray Loid as less than a perfect, kind, smiley husband toward Yor, but in a believable way. He snaps at Yor at times. He loses his patience. It feels like a real relationship, in the awkward tension when one partner wants to talk and the other absolutely does not want to talk. I admire that courage and wish more authors would take that risk (calling myself out I guess!).

Green-eyed Monster by bigbruja: another jealous!Loid fic that's lighthearted and fun. This is a comfort reread. I enjoy seeing Loid recognize the threat of a supposed "old friend" of Yor's, questioning his own feelings and how far he needs to go to fend this guy off. The guy is a Garden assassin, unbeknownst to him. I also love Yor's own inner struggle of just wanting everyone to get along, but showing steel when she needs to.

dalliance by rosetintednerdglasses: this is a WIP, but it is HILARIOUS and I hope everyone will go encourage this author to pick this fic back up when they have a chance. TLDR, Twilight (in disguise) is sent on a joint mission with Thorn Princess and flips out internally when he sees it's Yor. Handler then orders him to ensure Thorn Princess continues to cooperate. So as Twilight, he has to sort-of honey trap Thorn Princess, while as Loid he has to keep Yor happy. Poor Yor believes she's torn between two different men and close to cheating on Loid! Situational hilarity all over the place, and fun world-building, like this other WISE agent randomly named "Steel Bunny" (LOL).

Not According to Plan by @kyrathel: love you girl! This is a gift fic for me, but that's not the reason I reread it (even though it's a WIP as well!). It's SO FUNNY. Twilight gets it in his overly anxious head that he MUST defend his wife from the bullies at City Hall, so what does he do? HE INFILTRATES CITY HALL AS A NEW FEMALE HIRE. The world absolutely needs more petty!Twilight! The latest chapter features laxative brownies. Enough said.

Let's start living dangerously by @beannoss: I specifically reread the later parts when dumb Twilight gets over his dumbness and finally talks to Yor! And they kiss again! I love the way huhwaku (beannoss) portrays overthinking Twilight AND overthinking Yor. And also, the simplicity of Yor at the same time. The voice she uses for both of them is refreshing, it really puts you in the mindset of the character. Yor's giggles ("teehee!") as she teases Twilight about his little perfectionist habits are a cute touch to a gentle, heartwarming fic about these two highly competent professionals just starting to take baby steps in how to be competent at a relationship.

Fic that made me emotional:

100% Perfect by @sometimesiship. Where do I begin? How about with the gut aversion I initially had to the premise of a futuristic AI dating bot AU, due to all the tragic, dark AI movies I have watched? But as it neared completion, someone convinced me to give it a try and I AM SO GLAD I DID. You can see my gushing comments in almost every chapter. The development of the relationship between human Yor and AI Loid is so natural, funny at times, poignant always, and beautifully written, even though from an objective standpoint not much exciting stuff happens (I mean canon-typical excitement like murders and spy missions). Sometimesiship has a way of describing emotion that is so raw -- she can portray the same emotion a dozen different ways with analogies and setups and dialogue and whatever -- and it still doesn't feel old. And the emotion that dominated the second half of the story was grief. Basically the grief of loving someone you know you're going to lose. Like being the spouse of a terminal cancer patient. I didn't cry while reading, but it was a closer call than I have had in a VERY long time. So much beauty and humanity in this story. And spoiler (?), it's a happy ending. So I hope you all go check it out!

That's a wrap! If you read this far, stay tuned for a Writer version of Fandom Wrapped 2024!

[supernova1885a]

I love angst, make my fav characters suffer is basically a tradition.

So I have all this lore that I made up myself while playing based on confusing events and dialogues, so I decided to illustrate a little bit of what the transition from happiness = tragedy would be like in the relationship of these two. I don't know what the hell I saw in that spider but I love them and that's precisely why I'm going to make them suffer, you're welcome.

I MUST CLARIFY that everything I say in this post is not canon or is partially based on the canon of the game. Don't take this as something official, I just want to share a little of my interpretation of both the story and characters. Also that Shamura is a she/her to me, but I will refer to her as they/them in this post.

After Shamura found the others, they moved together to Silk Cradle and worked out what their new life would be from now on. Shamura made very strong bonds with they new family, but especially with Leshy and Narinder, although due to his insistence they spent more time with the latter.

They used to take him with them to their temple and show him the spider webs that decorated the place, as well as teach him to weave and other things. Being the eldest, they had to impart the learning of their siblings as well as help them assume their places as divinities. All with enormous love and affection that grew with the passage of time.

Years later, the five of them grew up and left Silk Cradle to begin to reign in their respective kingdoms. Because Narinder's kingdom was not earthly, he was the last to leave.

Shamura was the one who made and gave their siblings their robes, it was a last gift from them before not seeing them again for a long time. They could not hide their happiness, although along with it there was a slight feeling of sadness, but they knew well that they could not keep them with them for life and had to let them follow their paths.

Of course, there are times when with bad guidance the paths can go awry. Shamura loved their siblings, perhaps too much and that made them very permissive regarding certain actions that they did. Narinder was fed up with his position and decided to go further, breaking the laws of nature, Shamura had a bad feeling but when they realized it was too late. Narinder felt betrayed when they reproached him, because it was thanks to their knowledge that he had done what he did and now they was angry with him.

Maybe it was the tension of the moment that increased with each reprimand from they that caused him to attack them, maybe it was anger or he just didn't know how to control himself. From one moment to the next Shamura fell to the ground, a warm liquid began to stain their face, the screams of their siblings could be heard in the distance and a sharp pain began to overwhelm them. Fear, anger, sadness, pain, they had never felt so many emotions at once, they didn't know whether to cry or scream, whether to get up or stay there, until suddenly everything went completely dark.

Shamura was cared for by their siblings until they was stable, but the pain from their wound was not the only thing that began to bother them. With it came severe headaches, vertigo, dizziness, and memory loss. Despite all that and the harm their beloved brother had caused them, deep down in their damaged heart, they still loved him.

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I haven't worked on this beyond the main concept yet, but I wanted to share it with you guys instead of just leaving it to writing and my imagination! I'm thinking about making a few comics about it, I have a lot of ideas I want to put down here. Thanks for reading!

[lemotmo]

Just wanted to ask you and Ali, you guys claim Lou was fired, what do you think is the reason he got fired.

Oh Nonny, you are not catching me at the right time for this question.

I have had it with the man and his evil minions. They just do not know when to quit and I've had enough of this inane nonsense.

Listen, I had a really lousy workday today. A full day of pouring energy into a job I love and getting NOTHING in return. Only to get home and to read how these sheep and their evil Overlord are once again trying to be cool and are -once again- missing by a mile! All they are succeeding at is being extremely cringy and highly embarrassing.

Anyway... I feel like our fandom has written novels by now about all the many reasons we think he got fired.

Here's a few of them though:

A plethora of racist, sexist and ableist posts found on his social media.

Giving away too much inside show information in one of his first interviews. Like the fact that it was actually supposed to be Eddie in that storyline, instead of Buck.

Creating thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos filled with bullsh*t headcanons about how T was loving and sweet and never racist or sexist, oh no... of course not. He was just a sweet misunderstood woobie summer child.🤦‍♀️

Creating thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos telling people BT were thriving and they would stay strong together. All of this while he KNEW from the beginning that T was only there as a plot device for a short period of time, to serve Buck's narrative.

Creating thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos on set, effectively SPOILING some things the public wasn't supposed to know yet.

Creating thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos and charging his disciples loads of money to hear him talk nonsense out of his *ss.

Creating thoroughly unpro... you get where I'm going with this right? But there's more. Let's see. What else? Oh yes!

Not a reason this time, but a consequence: he suddenly stopped making his thoroughly unprofessional Cameo videos from one day to the next, going completely silent on all of his social media for months. BIG RED FLAG THERE! Either his own team stepped in and told him just how unprofessional he was or ABC stepped in to make him stop being so f*cking unprofessional. It's very likely it was ABC and Tim.

Let's find some more reasons now... Oh yes. What about the fact that he obviously did not want to film any kind of intimate scene with another man? He talked about this in one of his first interviews when he was still sane. He felt that 'making out' wasn't necessary in this story or some BS like that. Well, seems like he had no trouble making out with women in other projects. Hmmm... 🤔 They didn't even touch anymore in season 8.

Oh hey, did you notice that there was no love lost at all between the main cast and Lou? There were pictures of everyone BUT him. Again.. I wonder why? Hmmm... such a mystery. Might it be because no one on the cast or crew really liked the man. After all, he was the cause of his fanbase going completely insane, running around threatening and harassing other fans, calling them homophobic, accusing people of doing terrible things by creating fake evidence, harassing the cast and crew to the point that they had to block them and the showrunner had to step in and call them out for their toxicity!

Last but not least that terribly embarassing last interview that he did. Man, I have never felt so much second-hand embarassment as when I was reading that article wannabe article. In this trash article the man praised himself for being a wonderful actor who made some really great choices in those BT scenes. How full of yourself can one possibly be? It's gross. He talked about how he didn't see the ending coming, even though in his first interviews he clearly stated he wasn't going to stick around for long. Make it make sense!🤷‍♀️ In this article he basically says that 911 and Tim did him dirty, causing Tim to have to state -in no uncertain terms- that the BT relationship is over and done with. Aka 'the final nail in the BT coffin'. Aka 'the best day of my life'.

All of his (badly executed) rethoric made sure that his minions started turning on Oliver, calling him homophobic and biphobic, accusing him of all sorts of terrible things. And what about the racism towards Ryan? Can't forget about that horror. I know I'll never forget reading those comments.

Even now, after they finally got rid off him, he is still making his toxic cameo videos spurring his loyal fiends on to keep on hoping that Tommy will return. He knows full well that he is never coming back, but as long as they keep paying him, he'll keep saying what they want to hear. But you know what? All those dumb hashtags won't change the fact that he isn't coming back.

Bottom line? He is gone. Was he fired. Probably yes. We'll never be completely certain, but it's pretty obvious they didn't part in good ways.

Everyone in this fandom is tired, exhausted and depleted of energy because of this man and his cult. We are mostly free of the toxicity now and are slowly returning to the great fandom we were before, theorising and talking about Buddie. Let's keep doing just that: moving on without looking back. Great things lie ahead for us in 8b and season 9. Let's enjoy the win!

As for Lou? I wish for him a main role in his own crappy very unsuccessful TV-show (that will get cancelled after one season). Then all of his stans will follow and we'll finally be fully free.

Well, I have to say... that was cathartic. I needed to get that off my chest. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to rant Nonny. I feel so much better already. 😋

[mikimakiboo]

Time Travelers AU - Bathroom Break

I am baaaaaaaack on the story ! For those who missed it I published everyone's backstory, all are linked in the master post !

@ancha-aus it's been a while since I tagged you here

First

Prev

Next

I feel like this chapter is way too short compared to the time it took me to write it

Here it was: the moment Dust dreaded the most... going back to work. Not that there was a problem with his job, his colleagues were fine, the customers were usually nice except for some exceptions, but it was to be expected when working in a fast food. No, the thing that worried him was leaving his roommates, because they were basically roommates, alone all day. He wasn't afraid they would fight, thought Nightmare had been quite distant these past few days, he didn't participate in conversations during meals and usually just translated for Killer and asked him a few things, but apart from that he always seemed moody, mad about something and avoiding them. It did worry Dust, maybe it was something he did, or didn't do, that caused the noble to change his behavior ? He'll need to talk about it with him. Regarding the others they all seemed to get along, he noticed Cross would sometimes lower his guard when Killer talked, or rather rambled, to him to listen to what he was saying, which was something important to note as the knight only ever left the door to eat, Dust knew it because he saw him sleeping while still standing. Horror was nice to everyone, just not paying much attention to Nightmare as he seemed to avoid him more than the others anyway, and Killer just liked to chat with everyone, not caring if they understood him or not. So no, Dust wasn't scared they would fight. He was scared they would get bored, get curious and break something or even hurt themselves, that someone would knock at the door and call the cops when seeing them, or many other things they could do that could result in troubles both for them and for Dust. He really didn't need that.

Dust sighed, preparing yet another burger and putting it in a bag for those at the drive through, he didn't need to think about it anymore, the movements were basically muscle memory at that point. Should he introduce the others to burgers ? Maybe he could order everyone a burger once he got his paycheck, and he could buy soda and potatoes to make the fries himself ? Would they even like it ? Nightmare would probably despise the grease, maybe Cross too as he seemed to be very in shape, but he had a feeling Killer and Horror would like it. Well, that could be a plan for later then.

He felt someone tap on his shoulder.

- Break time, I'm taking your place.

His colleague said. Was it already his break ? He didn't see the time pass, for once. Well, he usually didn't have much to think about, so he must admit he wasn't particularly focused on the time that day.

- Oh, okay, thanks.

He finished the burger he was making before putting down his apron and going to the changing rooms to grab his phone in his locker. He then went to the bathroom, not that he needed to go as he was a skeleton, but he liked sitting on the throne in his little cabin, that way he didn't have to sit in the staff's room and make small talk with the others, he could just scroll on his phone for fifteen minutes without being disturbed. He sometimes wished he had a digestive system so he could take a dump on company time and be paid for it, but he didn't have one, anything a skeleton consumed was either turned into magic or would get thrown up if the body couldn't "digest" it. What a shame, honestly.

He wondered for a moment if he should call home on the land-line, but he soon figured it would be useless as he didn't teach them how to pick up a phone, so he just hoped everything was fine and went on socials to see what new brainrot was available to pass the time.

His alarm went off after fifteen minutes, indicating the end of his break. He sighed.

- Alright, here we go again...

He muttered to himself, getting up without flushing, and opened the door to step out of the cabin. He tripped on a branch and fell face first on the grass.

Cross flinched, planting his sword in the ground as to maintain balance when he felt everything shift around him. The house had dissapeared, and he found himself in a field surrounded by a forest. It felt like a few days ago, when he appeared in Dust's backyard, he had felt the air sting and crackle before everything shifted, and when he opened his eyes, he was somewhere else.

Where was he now ? He pulled his sword from the ground, holding it tight in case a threat would appear, and looked around him, were the others here too ? He heard a noise behind him, and quickly turned, only to see Killer gripping on a branch, hanging from a tree. As he was about to run by his side he saw Horror coming out from behind a bush, leaves and twigs stucked in the furr of his coat. Killer saw him too.

- Horrooooooor ! Adiuvaaaaa ! He cried.

Horror jumped, not expecting to hear a voice above him, and quickly went to grab Killer and put him safely on the ground. The Roman then immediately opened his bag to make sure all of his stuffs were with him, and sighed in relief before looking up at the Viking.

- Gratis..

Horror nodded, then looked at Cross.

- Vel ?

He asked, thought Cross didn't understand, but he supposed Horror asked him if he was doing good, as he looked concerned. Cross was doing fine, he wasn't hurt and by chance landed on his feet and on a plain surface, unlike Killer who ended up in a tree.

- Eo vais ben, mercit.

He thanked him, before hearing a spine-chilling scream.

- Google noooooooo !!

All three of them turned quickly, startled, and saw Dust, a little farther, kneeling on the ground with his little magic rectangle in his hands, visibly distressed.

- Dust ? Killer called, bene facis ?

- Google's dead ! Dust cried out, holding his rectangle in the air, it's mort, morz, mortuus, liflátinn, dead !!

Cross froze, who was dead ? Who was so important that Dust had to announce their death in five languages ? Was his rectangle dead ? Wait, wasn't the rectangle what allowed them to communicate ? Oh. They might have a problem then.

They looked at each other for a minute, not knowing how to save the rectangle from death, before Killer went to the wheeping skeleton and kneeled before him, looking through his bag. Dust looked up at him when he took out the thick book Dust had been reading recently: the Old Norse dictionary. Cross remembered Killer shoving the book in his bag when Dust left without it, saying he would keep it safe until he returned. Dust looked at the dictionary in awe, taking it carefully.

- Oh my fucking god, Killer, I love you so much right now, gratis.. !

Killer smiled, happy to have been useful.

As Dust was getting up with Killer's help they heard a new noise, and as they turned, they were met with a rather unusual sight: Nightmare, the very sophisticated Nightmare, was laying face flat in a mud puddle, the only mud puddle in the whole field, and looked particularly horrified, and disgusted, when he stood on his elbows, his face covered with mud. Killer couldn't help but burst out with laughter, especially when Nightmare tried to get up only to slip and fall again. Cross heard Dust fight back his own laughter and Horror chuckled, but even if the scene was indeed funny, Nightmare trully looked distressed, and Cross couldn't leave him like that.

- Sire !

He rushed to his side, helping him up by letting him grab him for balance, not caring if he dirtied his armor as it was rather easy to clean.

- Vous trouvez cela amusant !? Nightmare yelled, angry, and shaking slightly, asking if they found it funny.

Horror raised his hands in an apalogy motion, but Killer was still pretty much dying on the ground, wheezing and holding his non-existant stomach, Dust simply avoiding his gaze. Nightmare huffed, a shameful blush on his cheeks as Cross helped him step out of the puddle and sit on a log nearby as he tried to wipe the mud from his face, taking his gloves off as they were just as muddy anyway.

- Estes-vos blecié, sire ? Cross asked, wanting to know if he was hurt.

Nightmare shook his head, he wasn't hurt, physically at least. Cross nodded, standing straight again to look at the others: Killer had stopped laughing and was now catching his breath, Dust was looking at their surroundings, and Horror was looking at Nightmare, thoughtful, but didn't come any closer.

Now that everyone was here, they needed to think of a plan. They needed to figure out where they ended up, or when, if they could seek shelter somewhere, or if they couldn't and would have to build a sort of nest at least for the night, what they could hunt or gather, take turn to stand guard, ... Horror didn't seem to have his axe with him, which was... rather inconvenient, but he was pretty sure Killer still had his knives in his bag so it meant they were at least two with weapons to defend the group. He looked down at Nightmare again. They had to find water.

He sighed and gestured to everyone to come closer. He would rather they didn't split up.

- Nos devons trover eaue, he said, glancing at Nightmare who was still staring at his hands, senz se séparer, he added, looking back at them.

- Okay wait, Dust stopped him, "eaue" means water, right ? I mean he does need to wash himself so it would make sense he needs water... wait I think I remember the translation... he thought for a while, looking throught the dictionary, okay so.. aqua for Latin ? Aaaand... vatn for Old Norse.

Killer snorted.

- Sordidus est, aqua eget.

Cross wasn't sure what that meant, but judging by Nightmare's glare it most likely was a mockery, or one of the Roman's usual tease at least. He wanted to reprimand him, now wasn't the time for teasing, but Horror was faster than him and gave Killer a gentle nudge on the shoulder, shaking his head disapprovingly, to which Killer whined but didn't push it. Horror then pointed at the woods.

- Vatn.

Before anyone could reply, he opened the way. He had fallen in a bush and heard running water in the distance when he got up, surely there was a river nearby.

- Wait wait wait ! Dust interrupted again, Horror stopping to look at him. We're just gonna accept that we apparently got tossed throught time ? I mean it ain't you guys first time but it is mine ! And I actually have to go back to work !

Cross frowned. Work ? He knew what work meant, but why was Dust talking about work ? Oh, right ! Dust was supposed to be at work ! But he couldn't get back to work now, they didn't even know in what time they were, but surely it wasn't Dust's time anymore as these strange buildings were nowhere to be seen. Cross shook his head, Dust couldn't go back to work for now.

- What do you mean no ? I need the money.

Cross thought for a while, trying to remember the translation for money, and shook his head again.

- Nos sommes denz une altre époque, pas de "work".

He tried to explain, telling him they were in a different time. Dust frowned at him, before sighing.

- Well it's gonna be one fucking long bathroom break then... He mumbled, before following Horror again.

Cross held out a hand for Nightmare but the noble got up by himself, and simply followed the others from a distance, Cross walking behind to make sure no one deviated from the line and no threat appeared.

After only a few minutes they heard running water, and at the next turn around a tree, they saw a small river. Nightmare went to kneel on the shore and put his hands in the water. Killer went next to him, crounching down, and ignoring Nightmare's glare to rummage through his bag and take out a piece of cloth that he handed him. Nightmare looked at it for a while before taking it without saying a word, still bitter that they laughed, and put it in the water to clean his face. Dust stayed near Horror, looking at the trees.

Cross stood back, watching them all, making sure everything was safe for them to stop here.

He really hoped they could find a shelter soon.

[koolades-world]

So I actually just read the post about an MC who is very avoidant and has taste and texture issues with foods and it delighted me because I am a person who loves to cook and actively enjoy being given restrictions in textures when cooking so I can make things everyone can eat. And I'm the exact opposite who with very few exceptions (like allergies) will eat ANYTHING. (and have learned about allergies the hard way once) So - maybe - the direct opposite - the MC who will try ANYTHING that doesn't eat them first.

hi!! so glad you enjoyed that post enough to request! while my requests are actually closed right now, i actually really liked this and decided to do it anyways! this doesn't mean i'll do this for everyone, because then am i really closing my requests?

but anyways! had lots of fun writing this! perfect for right before thanksgiving, because food mmmmmmm. i'm baking a cheesy bread this year for my contribution :)

Mc who will try anything

Lucifer

he won't lie, you do worry him a little

so many devildom foods are not safe for human consumption

but yet, you shove it into your pie hole without a second though

he's always prepared to help you if you eat something bad however

Mammon

he's thrilled because that means he always has a buddy!

you'll help each other out if you're a little hesitant to try something new

it's all fun and games until you accidently eat something that turns you into the human equivalent of drugs again

he will most likely cry and quickly find you help lol

Levi

will ask you lots of questions about the taste and textures of foods

that way, he knows if he wants to try them or not

you’re much more adventurous than he is

he knows you don’t mind being the taste tester for both of you!

Satan

he’s very curious

surely there’s something you’re opposed to trying, right?

boy was he wrong

once, he offered you something you both knew would have adverse affects on humans and freaked out when you still ate it… he never did that again

Asmo

he constantly tells you that you’re glowing

he swears it’s because you’re so open to trying new things

you’re not sure if that’s how that works, but if that’s what he wants to believe, sure

it’s not everyday someone is complimented to that degree by him

Beel

instant best friends!

he's so glad that someone else can see the appeal and how tasty everything looks

maybe even some not foods. so what if that plate looked good?

anyways, he'll call you over as soon as he sees something new and interesting to try!

Belphie

he's quick to learn all of your favorite devildom and human world foods

whenever you're having a bad day, he'll make it appear for you <3

if he sees something he knows you haven’t tried, he’ll pick it up for you

after making sure you can eat it, of course

[all4minnie]

ew LMAO. this was something i made at like 4am a few days ago, I didn’t know what to do with it so i’m posting it. This is literally my very first post 😭🙏

A Forgotten Place, A Familiar Face

PAIRING : former UA student!reader (who lost their quirk) x class 1-A

SUMMARY : After the war, you lost your quirk and faded from the world of heroes, retreating into a small, forgotten life running a diner. Years pass, and your old friends from Class 1-A have moved on—except, they never truly forgot you. One day, unexpectedly, they walk into your restaurant, small-group-reunion being held, and the emotional weight of their return shatters the walls you've built around yourself. As you struggle with the feeling of being forgotten and unimportant, they remind you that you’ve always mattered to them. Over time, with their support, you rebuild your sense of belonging and finally find peace in knowing you are truly seen and loved.

WARNINGS : emotional/angsty content, mentions of self-doubt and self-criticism, mild injury (cutting finger), depictions of tears and breakdown, themes of Isolation and feelings of being forgotten, mentions Inability to keep up with others, emotional recovery and reconnection. (If i forgot anything, lmk!!)

THEME : angst, isolation, reconnection, self-worth & validation, regret & acceptance, fluff (?) at the end. (girl idfk, this my first time)

The clock on the wall ticks steadily. The greasy kitchen exhaust fan hums, and the sizzle of a fresh batch of fries fills the air. You wipe your hands on the apron, an over-worn, faded thing that’s seen more than a few messes. The restaurant you run isn’t much—a hole in the wall, really. It used to be a bustling place, full of potential. But now? It’s the same old regulars, the same tired faces. You had to let go of the hope that you’d ever make it big.

Your quirk—the one that once made you stand out among heroes—was gone. Disappeared when you almost didn’t make it out of that final battle. That was years ago. You weren’t a hero anymore. Hell, you weren’t even really a part of the world you once fought for.

You used to be close to them. To everyone. Class 1-A. You were all a team once, fighting side by side. All kinds of situations were you all, inevitably, pulled together even more. By tears? Stronger. By laughs? The bond was one you couldn’t imagine breaking. But that was before your life changed, before you were forgotten— A shatter of the world off somewhere new. But it wasn’t new to you anymore, years in this dump of a place. You couldn’t even remember the last time anyone reached out. It didn’t matter though, did it? You couldn’t force people to care. They had moved on, just like the world did after the war.

The bell above the door rings, cutting through the usual quiet hum of the diner. You don’t think much of it at first. Another customer, maybe. The door opens with that familiar creak, and you glance up automatically, your attention barely wavering from the plates in front of you. But something stops you—a voice.

“Hey, is this the right place?”

You freeze.

Your heart skips a beat. It’s so familiar—so unbelievably familiar that you feel like you've slipped through a crack in time. You look up, your eyes locking onto a face you haven’t seen in years. Izuku. His green hair, his nervous smile—it’s all the same, just as you remember. And behind him? Faces hard to forget. You almost can’t believe it. For a moment, your mind refuses to process what’s happening. But then, it hits you—the reality of the moment crashes down.

You weren’t expecting them. You hadn’t even thought about seeing them again. Yet here they are, standing in the doorway of your small, worn-down restaurant like a dream you once had, a dream you couldn’t quite let go of.

Before you can react, the plate in your hands slips, the porcelain crashing to the floor with a sharp, deafening sound. You gasp, eyes wide, your heart racing in your chest. The room feels too small. Too tight.

You kneel to pick up the pieces, your fingers trembling with the weight of everything that’s suddenly come flooding back. You reach for the shards, but as you do, your finger brushes one of the edges. A sharp pain slices through you. You barely register the blood beginning to trickle down your hand as you pull the glass pieces into your palm.

It’s funny. The glass is sharp, but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the emptiness in your chest.

You let out a shaky laugh, but it’s hollow—empty. Like a laugh you’ve been practicing for too long. A joke you’ve told so many times that it doesn’t mean anything anymore. “Look at me... pathetic, huh?”

You don’t even try to wipe away the blood. The cut is small, but it stings, and it’s enough to remind you how much you’ve been pretending. You’ve been pretending to be okay for so long, acting like this quiet life you built for yourself was all you could ever have. But now, it’s so painfully obvious that you aren’t okay.

“I... I didn’t think anyone would come looking for me,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “Guess I was wrong. I mean, you’re here, right?” You wince as the blood keeps trickling down your finger, but you don’t even care anymore. “Huh. What a coincidence..” A scoff of a laugh escaped you, a deep sorrow tugging at your heart strings.

The rest of the group seemed to be frozen in place. That’s funny. Just like how you’ve been feeling for years. Then, as if something had clicked, Izuku steps forward, his voice soft but full of a sorrow you haven’t heard in years. “we... we thought you were lost. No one could find you. No one knew where you went.”

You chuckle bitterly, a tear slipping down your cheek that you hadn’t even meant to shed. “I guess I wanted to be lost,” you whisper. “I didn’t want anyone to find me. I didn’t want anyone to remember me... because I didn’t remember who I was anymore.” You wipe at your cheek, as if the tears are somehow less real if you ignore them.

Katsuki’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife, surprisingly gentle. “You think we forgot you? After everything, you think we’d just moved on?”

You shake your head, the laughter slipping into something darker. “I didn’t even move on, Bakugo. I couldn’t. I just... stopped mattering. People forgot, and it was easier that way. Easier to pretend I was never meant to be part of all that hero stuff. I wasn’t a hero, not without my quirk. Not after everything.”

You shrugged.

You stop talking, the words sticking in your throat. It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? The world’s gone on without you. They’ve gone on without you. New lives. Beautiful ones, too. You’re too deep in the excuse of yours to even envy them anymore.

But then, before you can close off again, Ochaco steps forward, her voice soft and warm. “You don’t get to decide you don’t matter. We get to decide that. You’ve always mattered. You always will.”

Tears fill your eyes again, more freely this time. “I thought... I thought I was just... forgotten.” Your voice cracks.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku whispers, kneeling beside you, his hands gently taking yours. “We should’ve tried harder. We should’ve done more.”

You pull your hand away slightly, shaking your head. “It’s not your fault. I... I was the one who disappeared.” You swallow, trying to force the lump in your throat down, but the words spill out anyway. “I didn’t think I was ever going to be here again. I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you guys again.”

“We’re here now. We’re not going anywhere. You don’t have to carry this by yourself anymore.”

And then, in that moment, it all falls away. The weight of the past, the years of solitude, the feeling of being invisible, all of it disappears. You’re not the same person you were when you lost everything. You’re someone who is finally seen— truly seen. And for the first time in so long, you can breathe again.

The restaurant is busier now, the scent of sizzling food mixing with the laughter of old friends catching up. The once worn-down walls are brightened, the mismatched tables now having the touch of home. Your apron is cleaner—neater—but it still bears the marks of a life lived in small moments, a life rebuilt piece by piece.

And they’re all here— your people, not just as memories but as the living, breathing souls you thought you'd lost forever. Izuku, with his ever-present smile; Ochaco, light and bubbly; Bakugo, still as blunt as ever, but with an unspoken warmth underneath; Shoto, Mina, Kaminari, and just a few other people you’ve fallen close to, back into the piece of the puzzle board once missing. They’re not just visitors. They’re friends. Molds of your soul.

You stand behind the counter, wiping down the counter when Sero calls you over. “Hey! come sit with us. We’ve got something to talk about.”

You look at them—each face as familiar as your own reflection. But this time, there's no doubt. No fear of being forgotten. No sense that you don’t belong.

You smile, that same old, genuine smile that had been buried for so long. “I’m coming,” you reply, your voice steady now, the cracks filled with something solid—hope, maybe. Or maybe just the quiet joy of knowing you’ll never be forgotten again.

As you join them at the table, the weight of the years lifts. It’s just a group of old friends now, no longer separated by time, by distance, by the fractured memories of the past. You are seen. You are loved.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel... whole.

ALRIGHT this was low-key gonna just sit in my damned drafts but i’m fighting that urge. maybe AT LEASSTTT one person will like this so 🤷‍♀️ we ball nonetheless. it’s low-key poorly written, barley even authentic and genuine but i just wrote it to feel something. ANYWAY!

[wjbs-bonkle-au]

Hey you. You're new here, right? Well, I've been here all my life, and I know all about this backwater rock, as well as all the awful stuff that's happened here. For instance, let me tell you about... the Karzahni Embargo.

Few hundred years ago, some factory owner - can't remember her name - decided that sendin' her employees to Karzahni to be repaired was slowin' production too much, so she brought in the finest engineers from across the universe to figure out a way of keepin' her employees workin' in the event one of 'em got injured.

Now one of these inventors, a Ko-Matoran from the Northern Continent, he walks into the boardroom to present his idea, and the factory owner clearly likes what she sees, as she immediately greenlights it. It wasn't until a few weeks later that it became known to the public what this idea was; whenever a Matoran was injured, rather than being sent to Karzahni, they were taken away and... "fixed". I am usin' that term very loosely. Limbs gettin' replaced with tools, spines bein' patched up with control device... even organs bein' ripped out and replaced with mechanical equivalents.

Now, you'd probably expect the Xian council to immediately shut the factory down and immediately send the... "fixed" workers away for repairs. But remember, this is Xia. Instead, every member of the council immediately adopted this practise for their businesses. And then the lower-rankin' companies did the same. And so on, and so on, until it reached the companies that couldn't afford the implants.

That's when Glaivonn comes in. If you somehow haven't heard of him yet, I'm surprised. His company owns this entire district. He's one of those Titans from the Southern Continent, y'know them, they're the ones who name themselves after their favourite weapons. And as you can tell, Glaivonn really likes glaives. So much so that his company almost exclusively makes them. Or at least, used to. See, a factory fulla blades doesn't sound very safe, and naturally there's a lot of workplace injuries.

One day, after comin' back from a trip to the... "scenic" Tren Krom Peninsula, one of Glaivonn's assistants updates him on what's been goin' on while he was away, and when ol' Glaivy hears about the worker "repairs" and how less well-off companies can afford them, he gets a very messed-up idea; he starts makin' cheap, lower-quality implants, and sells them to the factories that can't afford the good stuff. This goes very well. For Glaivonn I mean; not the workers. I once met a Matoran from a low-grade mask forge who had her entire left arm and part of her lung damaged in a Protodermis spill, and the replacements were on the brink of fallin' apart.

But not only does Glaivonn make the parts cheap; he makes them for other species, too. Now, for non-Matoran, Karzahni isn't really a concern; if a Bruiser or Vortixx gets injured, then they have to retire, or buy a new limb if they can afford it. But now a Bruiser getting their arm torn off in a crusher ain't a guarantee of retirement. Just drag 'em round the back, bolt a grabber-claw onto the stump, reinforce the spine, and now you've got a super-worker who can't quit their job.

You're probably wonderin' why this is called the Karzahni Embargo. Luckily for you, you're about to find out! So it turns out that Glaivonn had connections to the Xian council, and he managed to pull some strings to get them to ban all transfers to Karzahni. You may think this sounds good, and in theory it was since the Matoran wouldn't disappear forever, but this also meant that now, any company that couldn't afford even the cheaper implants would eventually be forced to shut down. Xia hasn't sent a Matoran to Karzahni for centuries, and they probably won't continue doing so any time soon.

Now then, is there anythin' else you want to know about? Next story won't be free. Let's say... 8 Widgets.

[post-story notes section]

The thing about Axonn's species naming themselves after weapons is a reference to this post.

Also this story takes place about a week before Teridax took over the Matoran Universe.

Honestly I like to imagine that Xia is actually more cyberpunk that Metru Nui. Like there are giant Blade Runner-style holograms advertising the latest ridiculous weapons the Vortixx have come up with, and basically-hovercars flying between buildings, and a "luxury district"* where all the company-owners and stuff live, with like Matoran and Steltian Bruiser servants and stuff.

*which will come up in a future post

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again