#and it's only the beginning for this decade

[kaliina-catoe-blog]

So, hilariously enough, I had a childhood home in PNW (California) that was INFESTED by ants.

Tiny black things that were so small you literally couldn't keep them out of ANYTHING. Nothing was an-proof short of lighting a circle of flame around our house....obv, that's not a thing we tried or would ever try. But that's how bad it was.

Eventually, we got particularly fed up and went to Oregon to talk with a college professor who studied entomology and brought him a jar our plague.... They were invasive to the area.

We talked to every neighbor on our block that would answer the door, and literally every single one had the EXACT SAME ISSUE. The fucking ants. The neighbor decided to get an exterminator, and the guy discovered that the ants were coming up from underneath the road- which was paved but had a dirt ditch and not really any curb.

He realized that someone at the top of the block had a different soil in their front gardens than the rest of us...

THE FUCKING ANTS HAD SURVIVED BEING ACCIDENTALLY TRANSPLANTED FROM ACROSS STATE LINES AND PUT INTO THIS DUDES YARD!!!!!!!

They live.. And something about PNW soil is so good that they not only thrive, but they begin making a huuuuge colony underneath the man's driveway...

And apparently, the soil had been transplanted for his flowerbed and landscaping plants - in FUCKING 1979.

It was 2009 by this point. The ants had literally been in that neighborhood longer than some of the HOUSES.

Please always treat your soil/mulch/other planting mediums... Especially if you're using them outside. Otherwise, you might accidentally ruin an entire block of houses for literally decades without even knowing 😭😭😭😭

I still get nauseated if I try to drink out of a can that's say for more that 10 minutes sometimes.... I haven't lived there since 2010.

shoutout to this random person on reddit who found an incredibly rare velvet worm in a bag of potting soil and prompted an entire thread of bug nerds absolutely gushing and cooing with sheer jealousy and admiration over such a unique find

[corroded-hellfire]

I just need pre-relationship AYW!Eddie all pent up and feral for Reader. I need him whimpering when he touches himself after Reader leaves for the evening. I need him trying to picture anyone else besides his kids’ babysitter but he keeps picturing Reader.

Your wish is my command! 😘

Warnings: male masturbation, smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), older!eddie, babysitter!reader, the longing is real

Words: 2.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Go to sleep now,” you grumble playfully, ruffling Luke’s curls as he smiles up at you from his bed.

“One more story?” Luke asks, though his voice betrays how sleepy he already is.

“Come on, buddy,” Eddie says from the doorway. “She’s been nice enough to stay for dinner and read you two bedtime stories already.”

A smile that steals Eddie’s breath grows on your lips as you turn to look at your boss.

“You make it sound like such a hardship,” you quip.

“I don’t think your union allows for overtime,” Eddie replies.

You let out a soft giggle and Eddie feels his insides begin to melt. It’s catastrophically unfair, the effect you have on him. Not in his whole life has Eddie met someone who so effortlessly turns him on and makes his heart race. As impossible as it is to ignore the feelings, Eddie tries not to linger on them for a few reasons. One, you’re a complete pipe dream. There is no way you, beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, and hilarious you would ever see a man over a decade older than you in the same light that he sees you. Two, and which he admits is arguably the bigger reason, is that he’s married. Sure, it hasn’t been a real marriage in…God knows how long. But it’s still a legally binding marriage that he hasn’t even attempted to separate from. Not for lack of want, though. It’s hard to see a point when it would cause the breakup of his boys’ family, and for what? So Eddie could be all alone in some smaller unfamiliar home that he struggles to afford on his own while caring for his sons, only getting to see them half the time he does now? No. He basically is doing it all alone right now, with the lack of input from Brittany, but at least Luke and Ryan are in the home they know and the two combined household incomes can give them a pretty good life.

Unfortunately, all the logic in the world can’t cure Eddie’s addiction to you.

“Close your eyes, sleepyhead.” You stand up from the edge of the four-year-old’s bed and lean over to press a kiss to his forehead.

The way you bend down towards the boy gives Eddie a spectacular view of your ass. He’s forced to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to suppress the groan that so desperately wants to escape. As much as he internally chides himself, Eddie can’t tear his eyes away either. He gets so few chances to just look at you, that he can’t bring himself to cut this precious time short.

“Night night,” Luke says through a yawn.

“Night, pal,” Eddie says.

You boop your index finger against the little boy’s nose before standing up straight and heading in Eddie’s direction. The two of you exit into the hallway and Eddie closes the door almost all the way–leaving it open just a crack to allow some of the hallway light in.

The two of you are silent as you walk to the living room, both silently dreading that it’s time to part for the evening. You swipe your bag up from the couch and slip it onto your shoulder.

“I guess I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow,” you say, reluctantly taking steps toward the front door.

“Thanks for staying longer than you had to,” Eddie says, walking you to the door like always. He feels like he should add the words “for the boys” to the end of his sentence, but he can’t bring himself to. As much as the boys adore you, Eddie knows he is without a doubt the happiest one that you stayed for dinner and until bedtime.

“It was fun,” you tell him. “I always have fun here.”

“Always?” Eddie teases, raising his eyebrows. “Can I remind you that you said that the next time Luke has a meltdown?”

“Sure,” you reply with a chuckle.

The electricity in the air threatens to spark at any moment as Eddie reaches around you to open the front door.

“Drive careful, sweetheart,” he says.

“No,” you tease with a playful smirk. “I’m going to drive recklessly. Run all the red lights.”

“Don’t give me reason to worry,” Eddie mumbles, knocking his shoulder against yours.

“Aww,” you coo. “You worry about me?”

Heat rises to Eddie’s cheeks and he desperately wills it to move back down his body.

“Alright, smart ass.” Eddie wrinkles his nose up and pretends to shove you out the door.

With a laugh, you playfully stumble down the walkway a few steps, acting as if his push was that strong.

“Oh, fine!” you lament over-dramatically. “I’ll be a good girl! Bye, Eddie.”

A good girl. Suddenly, Eddie wishes that heat and blood would stay in his face instead of rushing to his groin like it currently is.

“Bye, sweetheart.”

The moment you’re safely in your car and Eddie hears the engine start, he closes the front door and groans in time with the locking mechanism clicking into place.

“This just feels cruel,” he mumbles to himself as he rests his forehead against the cool wood of the door. He lets himself stand there until he hears your car rumble down the road and off into the night.

It takes a Herculean effort to push himself up and head deeper into the house. Out of habit, Eddie glances at the clock on the wall to see if Brittany will be home soon or not. It’s useless though—there’s never a set time she comes home. Who knows where she is or what she’s doing? Or who she’s doing. The pseudo-schedule the household used to follow has fallen by the wayside, so Eddie mentally tells himself to ignore it altogether. Easier said than done, of course.

When Eddie steps into the hallway it’s silent. No sounds of Luke sneaking out of bed to play with his toys or Ryan fumbling for his flashlight to read beneath his covers. Heaving a sigh, Eddie decides he might as well take care of the situation in his pants.

Despite Brittany not being home, Eddie locks the bedroom door behind him. Luke has also started the bad habit of opening any and every door without knocking first. So, better to be safe than sorry.

“Okay, think of someone else,” Eddie says to himself as he rids himself of his clothes. “Anyone else. Not her.”

It shouldn’t be hard to think of another woman to get himself off. Hell, for the entirety of Eddie’s teenage years, he could’ve jacked it to almost any woman and it would be great. Now he can’t seem to get this one specific, unattainable woman out of his mind.

He shucks the last of his clothes off and lays down on his bed, wracking his brain for someone who can get the job done. Julia Roberts? Nah. Jennifer Aniston? No. Cindy Crawford? Nope. Nicole Kidman? Maybe….no. Aunt Viv from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? The first, not the second one. Still no.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, letting his eyes fall closed as he wraps his hand around his semi-hard shaft. He licks over his lips and tries to let himself relax. The only way Eddie is going to be able to take care of this problem is to think about you and he knows it. He also knows he needs to hurry up if he wants to finish before Brittany comes home.

The mere thought of the woman who sleeps next to him at night has him softening slightly in his hand. A snort of laughter comes out, Eddie finding that humorous. Objectively, Brittany is beautiful, but knowing the rot and decay that lays just beneath the surface ruins any attractiveness Eddie could ever find in her anymore. Even though he already knows what will happen, Eddie immediately switches his thoughts over to you to see the effect. It’s instant. His cock comes to life at the very thought of your name.

No shit, Eddie thinks to himself as he opens his legs a little wider. Because she’s literally a fucking goddess. God, those eyes. Eddie’s hand grips himself a little tighter and moves down towards the base.

“Say you’re a good girl again, baby,” Eddie mumbles under his breath. Fuck, he can’t believe he was lucky enough to hear those words come from your lips. Jesus, he can hardly imagine being lucky enough to come home to you at the end of the day. Walking in the door after work and seeing you is already what he looks forward to all day, he can’t fathom how he would feel if you greeted him with a kiss and stayed there with him and the boys all night. And once the boys go to bed it’s time for some fun.

“Please.”

The word tumbles from Eddie’s lips but he’s not entirely sure what he’s asking for. You to be there with him? You to be by his side always? You to be here, naked, with your hand around him instead of his own?

Okay, Eddie thinks, shifting to make himself more comfortable. There we go, think about coming home to her.

He begins to slowly stroke his cock up and down.

Eddie imagines walking through the front door and kicking his boots off. Your voice hums sweetly from the kitchen and it brings a smile to his face.

“What smells so good, huh?” he asks as he strolls into the room.

The sight he’s greeted by is almost enough to bring him to his knees. You stand at the counter, facing him, an apron on and a bowl full of cake batter held in your hands.

“Welcome home,” you say.

Dark brown eyes follow your every move as you slowly dip your forefinger into the batter and pop it into your mouth. Eddie finds himself holding his breath as you slide your finger out from between your plush pink lips at a torturous pace.

As if the first time wasn’t enough, you dip your finger back in, but instead of putting it in your mouth this time, you point your finger up and stick your tongue out to lick every speck of vanilla batter off of it.

“Oh, fuck me,” Eddie moans.

With a soft laugh, you set the bowl down and look up at Eddie through your thick eyelashes.

“Funny. I was going to say that to you.”

A rough growl reverberates from Eddie’s chest as he moves forward to grab you by the hips. It’s only once he has his hands on you that he realizes not only are you wearing the apron—you’re wearing only the apron.

“God damn, baby,” he mutters. Calloused hands slide back just slightly and come into contact with your bare ass. He drops his head forward to rest against yours with a helpless whine.

You giggle, tilting your head up to brush your nose against his.

“I like the sounds you make,” you tell him, voice thick with lust.

Before he responds, Eddie presses a few gentle kisses along your bare shoulder and up the side of your throat.

“I want to hear your noises, too.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “I don’t think that’ll be very hard to manage.” You reach up with your left hand and tug on the tied apron string resting on the nape of your neck. The front of the apron falls down, leaving your entire torso exposed to Eddie.

A guttural groan meets your ears as strong hands grab you by the waist and help you up onto the counter. Immediately, you spread your legs and Eddie stands between them, the two of you fighting with the apron to get it all the way off you.

Eddie tosses it over his shoulder as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling the two of your bodies as close as possible.

“Eddie,” you whine, reaching up to bury your fingers in his unruly curls.

“What baby?” His breath brushes against your lips, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Need you.” Using your grip on his hair, you pull Eddie’s face down to crash against yours.

Mouths meet, lips dancing, tongues exploring, and teeth clashing. Strong yet gentle fingertips dig into your skin, yearning to hold you as tight as humanly possible. Nothing is close enough.

Eddie pulls back just enough to playfully nip at your bottom lip.

“Being such a good girl for me,” he rasps.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you run your nose along the edge of Eddie’s jawline.

“Wanna be so good for you. Wanna feel you, Eddie. Pretty please?”

A smug smirk grows on Eddie’s face as he reaches between your two bodies to unzip his navy blue coveralls. You shove the material down his hips as Eddie whips his white undershirt off over his head.

“Ready for me, princess?”

Eddie lines himself up with your entrance, glancing up at your face as he waits for your approval.

“God, yes!” You nod emphatically, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get him inside of you faster.

Eddie grins at your eagerness, putting both of you out of your misery as he pushes inside.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Oh!” You whimper, clinging to Eddie’s shoulders.

The sweet little noises spilling from your lips only encourage Eddie. He pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back into your tight wet heat. It feels as close to euphoria as Eddie’s ever felt. He wants to spend forever between your legs, but it feels far too good to last long.

“Feels so good,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby?” Eddie asks. “Like when I…oh, fuck.”

Eddie doesn’t have time to imagine what he’d say next before hot cum starts to pour over his fist.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles as his orgasm works its way through his body. His hand keeps going, milking his cock for everything that it’s worth.

Once he’s well and truly spent, Eddie lets his boneless body sink into the mattress. His arm flings over the side of the bed and his fingertips brush against his t-shirt laying on the floor. Blindly, he picks it up and wipes his coated hand off before wiping the cum off his abdomen, legs, and anywhere else it went.

“Holy shit,” Eddie sighs. His head falls to the side and his eyes slip closed. A goofy smile comes to his face as his mind returns to you. “Fuck, I’m so gone for her.”

[makeitmakesomesense]

A Long Time Coming

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: This is from a heinous prompt from a heinous friend. It is silliness and then it is smut. It also uses a lovely prompt from @taylorswiftmicrofic for the 9th of January, which is 'jokes'.

Sometimes, when you were caught in a moment alone with Natasha, there was this spark.

Her tongue touching her teeth when she smiled her brightest. Her shoulder bumping yours in elevators. Her dry jokes as you made it through the hardest days.

There were other times too. Crumpled in the kitchen when the darkness got too much. Your hand at the small of her back. Her chin resting on your own shoulder as you gazed out at a world that would never be the same. 

There was a spark. If you were honest, there were embers now. A gentle flickering in your lower stomach. A heat that burned gently.

A wanting. 

It wasn’t on the table, not for either of you. Maybe five years ago, maybe before everything had fallen apart. Now your lives were about solving the world’s problems not your own.

Natasha was the bravest person in the world. She was efficient too. You’d barely wrapped your head around the possibility of time travel before Natasha had organised the task force to achieve it. 

She was the bravest person in the world. That’s why no-one blinked when she volunteered first to save it. 

She dressed in the futuristic white suit and stood in the designated place. She glanced at the others and then at you. Her tongue touched her teeth when she smiled wide, she gave you a thumbs up. 

The complex machinery, that filled the room, hummed and sputtered.

And, then, Natasha disappeared. 

The fallout took its time to be alarming. 

The lights in the room flickered uncertainly for a few moments. You waited, trying not to think about Natasha being so far away, so out of time. You waited for Dr. Banner to press the button that would bring her back. 

He pressed it at last. And then you watched his brow crease in confusion. He pressed it again. And again.

You started hyperventilating when it became clear. 

So far away. So out of time. 

Natasha was smaller than people realised. More fragile too. 

Dr. Banner and Steve Rogers debated the technicalities of the situation for over an hour.

You paced the room, caught up with a need to search the world for someone you wouldn’t find.

Eventually, you heard them coming to a conclusion. It was her suit. The wires that crossed at the front of the chest, there must have been a fault. 

You weren’t as brave as Natasha, you weren’t as efficient either. Still, you did your best. It took another hour for you to be suited up and ready for the hopefully simple mission. They were careful not to change any setting on the machine. 

Theoretically Natasha had been sent back a decade to New York City. Theoretically that’s where you should be going too. 

You were given a quick tutorial on removing the chest-plate from the suit and resetting the wires. If everything went to plan, it would be a simple rescue. 

You didn’t bother pretending that it might be. 

You stood in the centre of the room and listened to the machine begin to whir and hum. You closed your eyes and opened them somewhere new.

Green.

Your first and only thought as the colour overwhelmed you.

So much green.

Foliage like you’d never seen before. A sea of large fern plants that towered above you.

Definitely not New York City. You spun in a circle as you tried to assess your location. Maybe the rainforest? But surely the rainforest would have more rain and more forest?

Your eyes quickly scanned the landscape, a view of rolling hills that were covered in the strange vegetation that you could not place. 

You heard a sudden noise to your left and startled. 

Natasha Romanoff was barreling towards you. Dirt spattered her face. Her eyes were wide with uncharacteristic panic. Her bare arms were littered with scratches.

You blinked.

Her bare arms.

She wasn’t wearing her suit. She was barely wearing anything. Your throat tightened as you registered her sports bra and shorts. You didn’t have time to think before Natasha’s hands were gripping your arms. 

Her heavy panting filled your ears as she leaned in.

‘Run.’ She said. ‘We have to run.’

You didn’t hesitate. Natasha’s grip on your hand was iron tight as she dragged you lithely through the undergrowth. You did everything you could to keep up and not fall over.

After a few minutes, Natasha finally slowed her pace. Her head swivelled around, ascertaining the safety of your new location.

Abruptly, she exhaled in relief. Then, she turned back to you and wrapped you in the tightest hug.

‘I’m so glad to see you.’ She muttered breathlessly against your shoulder. 

You hugged her back, half relieved and half panicked.

‘Natasha.’ You started unsurely. ‘Where the hell are we? When are we?’

Natasha pulled back and held your face between her hands. You stared into her eyes, realising suddenly that her pupils were extremely dilated. 

‘I don’t know how to tell you this.’ She said thoughtfully.

You braced your shoulders. 

‘Just tell me. Get it over with.’

Natasha took your head and swivelled in 90 degrees. You stared in the direction she'd pointed you towards. You scanned the horizon and tried to understand what you were missing. Your heart leapt in horrible realisation. A giant tree, relatively far away. The tree seemed to be eating its own leaves. You blinked and tried to make sense of it. The tree moved slowly forwards.

Dinosaur. 

Your mouth fell open in an ‘O’ shape.

You glanced back at Natasha. She was staring at your open mouth and wearing an expression you'd never seen before. You closed your mouth self consciously.

‘Oh my God.’ You choked out. ‘Oh my God.’

Natasha’s fingers dug slightly into your scalp. 

‘I know.’ She breathed, her stare still intent on your lips. You stared at her in confusion. Her breathing was becoming rapid and shallow.

‘Natasha.’ You tried, wondering what kind of trauma could have occurred to make her this distracted. Her gaze glanced back to you. She chewed her lower lip and gave you a small smile. 

‘Yeah?’

‘Where’s your suit?’ You asked slowly, feeling increasingly alarmed.

Natasha released your face as she waved her hand thoughtlessly in the air. Her cheeks were still flushed, even though you'd been standing still for several minutes.

‘Back where I landed.’ 

She gestured vaguely to her right. 

‘Just next to the swamp.’ She paused with obvious disorientation then recollected her train of thought. She frowned. ‘It got all sticky.’

‘The suit?’ You checked, keeping your questions as simple as possible. ‘It got sticky from the swamp?’

Natasha shook her head. ‘No. It got sticky from this huge plant.’ Her hands echoed her words with a large gesture into the air.

‘Can you take me there?’ You prompted gently, holding her hand carefully in yours. 

Natasha’s stare focused intensely on your joined hands. You squeezed her hand and asked the question again. Natasha’s eyes dragged themselves slowly up your body to meet your stare.

‘Yes.’ She said breathlessly, her thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. ‘But it makes me crazy.’

‘What does?’

‘The sticky stuff.’ She swallowed dryly. ‘That’s why I took it off.’

‘Crazy, like dizzy?’ 

Natasha nodded, a sudden look of panic in her eyes. ‘Yes.’ She lied badly. ‘Kind of.’

‘Kind of.’ You prompted gently, giving her hand another squeeze.

Natasha’s eyes darted wildly from your hands to your face, to your…chest.

‘Horny.’ She said breathlessly. ‘Kind of horny.’

Your mouth dropped into an ‘O’ again, and Natasha crossed her legs uncomfortably. She closed her eyes and took an unsteady breath. You promptly shut your mouth. 

‘That must be… distracting.’ 

Natasha nodded slowly, and her eyes reopened with an obvious kind of longing in them. 

You resolved to be decisive. To be professional. This was a mission. You tried to ignore the low burning heat that already lived in your stomach. 

‘Well, we need you in the suit to get home.’ You told her seriously. ‘So let’s find it as fast as possible, and try to limit our exposure to whatever that sticky stuff is.’

Natasha nodded again, lips pressed tightly together. Her jaw ticked as her eyes wandered distractedly over your body again. 

There was a concerningly loud crash in the distance. 

‘Oh.’ Natasha murmured absentmindedly. ‘That’ll be the dinosaurs.’

Her free hand moved to your waist and you felt her nails dig into the firm fabric of the suit. Trying to tug you closer her.

You shook your head wordlessly and started leading her in the direction of the swamp and her missing suit.

Natasha walked obediently just behind you. You turned occasionally to check if you were still heading in the right direction. Every time she nodded, her stare never wavering from your ass. 

You forced yourself to keep walking. You had to be the professional. 

You noticed the foliage around you darken slightly, a sign of the nearby water source. You tried to keep your focus on the mission. On the very obvious and very real danger that you found yourself in. 

You paused to determine your next path. Natasha's hands covered your ass and you pretended not to feel the light squeeze.

As you got closer to the swamp, Natasha started walking faster so she could be next to you. Her arm snaked around your waist again. You could feel the warmth radiating out from her. You could see it in her flushed cheeks. Every time you looked over at her, Natasha flushed harder.

Sometimes, you felt her hand wander downwards along your body. Carefully, you moved it back to your waist.

Eventually you came to a clearing. There were obvious signs that someone had been here before. Natasha’s eyes widened in recognition.  After a moment, she pointed to the far corner of the clearing. There, you saw the previously-white suit discarded on top of a small boulder. 

You swallowed nervously. 

‘The suit needs a repair.’ You told Natasha shortly, her arm still eagerly around you. ‘I’m going to fix it before you put it on.’ 

You tried to let go of Natasha as you walked over to the suit. But she clung determinedly on. You didn’t bother fighting it, aware now that the best thing to do was get you both home as fast as possible.

When you reached the suit, you saw it was indeed coated in a sticky golden substance. You crouched down and grabbed a nearby twig, using  it to scrape away most of the viscous liquid.

Then, you kept your focus steady, barely letting yourself breathe as you popped out the covering and repeated the repair instructions you’d been given by Dr. Banner. You tried not to worry about the stickiness that brushed against your fingertips.

You were putting the panel covering back onto the suit when it started. 

An itching sensation across your body. An itching that soon became something else. A burning. Like a thousand sparks against your skin. Fireworks. You were burning. Wanting.

You were wanting. 

Her.

You felt yourself shuddering. A sudden dryness in your throat as you tried to swallow. A sudden desperation. A cluttered mind.

‘Oh no.’ Natasha mumbled somewhere above you. 'Are you okay?'

You started panting. You couldn't remember words. All you could do was tug at her hand. The wanting was blinding. 

Natasha crouched next to you. Your heart started pounding immediately.

You could feel the sparking electricity from her proximity. As if she was lightning and you were the perfect conductor.

‘Natasha.’ You murmured at last. You heard the obvious neediness in your voice. The wanting. 

Natasha smiled widely as she took you in. 

‘Oh, good.’ She half-moaned as she moved closer, filling up your vision and your world. You felt her hands tangling forcefully in your hair. You toppled backwards against the forest floor. 

Somewhere deep down in the back of your mind, you wondered what kind of insects lived in the mud next to a Jurassic swamp. 

Then, Natasha’s tongue ran along your neck and you forgot your own name. Her lips were on you eagerly. Her mouth was kissing and biting as she made her way to your mouth.

Natasha straddled your waist as her tongue entered your mouth. The kiss was long and slow. Then she pulled back, her arms reached over her head as she removed her sports bra hurriedly. You could feel her hips moving, as she tried to press herself against your body.

Automatically, your hand found its way between her legs.

Natasha groaned loudly as she enjoyed the immediate friction of your palm. She leaned forward, her arms resting on either side of you.

Your vision filled now with her breasts. They were bouncing as she moved. A heavy softness that made you tilt forward. Your tongue found her nipple, swirling eagerly over the sensitive area. 

You felt the wetness through the fabric of her shorts. Your hand slipped under the material. She was soaking wet, coating your palm immediately.

You understood suddenly. Why she loathed her suit. Why she'd ripped it off. You felt your own hips buck desperately, hopelessly. You paused, trying to remember the way to take off the complicated garment.

Natasha’s hand tugged forcefully at your hair. Your attention flew back to her.

Her eyes shuttered closed with the nearness of her orgasm. Her hips bucked desperately against your bare hand.

‘No.’ She moaned selfishly, biting down hard on her lower lip as she continued to rock. ‘You can come later. Let me finish first.’

You obliged easily. Her breasts pressed themselves closer again and your attention returned to them. You kissed and licked and sucked. The heel of your hand pressed against her clit over and over. Your fingers moved inside her with the rocking of her hips.

Natasha cried out loudly when she came at last. Her eyes were squeezed themselves even more tightly shut.

You startled at the sudden sound, as reality crept briefly back. Then you laughed. 

‘I thought that was a T-Rex.’ You told her stupidly. 

Natasha smiled happily down at you. Her tongue touched her teeth. Her once braided hair was completely wild. Her breathing was shallow. Her body relaxed. 

Her eyes were no longer dilated. 

‘Mmm.’ She hummed in pleased thought, her hand trailing down your suit. ‘We should go somewhere with a bed. So we can do that again.’

.

Natasha was no longer the bravest person in the world. 

You were.

You waited 97 million years for an orgasm.

.

.

.

Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[ghostofnoir]

Escaping into a good book has always been a part of who I am. But reading Drarry fanfiction has been my escape and love for a decade now. It’s what I look forward to after a long day. My own secret safe place no matter what’s going on around me. Harry, Draco and every scenario they’re put into have been my constant companions in life on my best and worst days.

Then, this past year, vestibular vertigo took my ability to focus and read for any long or even short periods of time. Dizziness and fear of slipping back into another weeks long episode stole that joy and safe space. Through therapy I’ve found ways to manage and I can do more than I could only a few months ago. However, reading can still be a struggle.

This post wasn’t even supposed to be about me or that, but just a sincere, heartfelt and emotional shout out and thank you to everyone narrating Drarry fics into audiobooks. Who are giving me and others a way to escape into a long, comforting fic again. And are doing it all for free 😭❤️❤️

‘Every New Beginning’ by @fencer-x is one of my comfort fics and Vox Mockina’s narration and voice work is phenomenal. I’ve listened to it so many times I have parts of it memorized. It’s been a life saver and I’m holding onto it white knuckled and on repeat.

Check Vox’s YouTube channel out if you want! And please feel free to send any Drarry audio recs my way🙂

[punisheddonjuan]

(I Will Soon Be Offering) Private Guitar Lessons

A few months ago one of my followers inquired if I had ever given thought to offering guitar lessons online via webcam. I replied that it was indeed something I had thought about but that I would need to give it more thought as to how I would approach teaching online, whether or not I had the proper equipment and software to provide a professional experience, how many students I could take on, and what exactly I could offer as a teacher. I also noted that I would have to create a suitable space in my apartment for hosting students, this part took care of itself when my roommate moved out, my girlfriend moved in and we converted his old bedroom into an office. As for the rest? Well I gave it some thought and I've hacked together reasonable solutions for most of those other issues, so I would like to announce that beginning later this winter/this spring I will be offering private one-on-one guitar lessons via webcam.

My Qualifications:

While I graduated with a degree in Classics and attended graduate school in that field, I was initially accepted into university as a music major on the basis of my guitar playing. It was only after a few years that I switched majors into Classics. In the end I still managed enough credits to claim a minor in music.

Before attending university I spent a year studying jazz theory/jazz improvisation at college.

Both prior to and concurrent with my college/university music education I studied classical guitar privately with my former guitar teacher for a little over a decade; through him I can claim teaching lineage back to Francisco Tárrega.

I have played in a few little garage bands that never really went anywhere, performed with friends at house parties, jammed around as much as I could, and performed live as a solo guitarist.

I previously taught guitar privately during university; this is not my first rodeo.

All things accounted, I have been playing guitar for near to twenty-five years.

What I Can Offer:

If you're an absolute beginner, I would be happy to guide your playing to a level where you would feel comfortable learning songs on your own, and we would start with learning basic chords, basic technique, and putting it all together into learning a few songs.

If you're past the beginner stage, I can take your playing to a level where you would be able to convincingly improvise a solo over a song, play more advanced songs, and sit in with a jam session.

If learning to read sheet music is a goal of yours' I am able to assist with that.

If you're interested in beginner classical guitar I would feel comfortable teaching repertoire and technique to the level of what is asked for by the Royal Conservatory of Music Grade Five examinations. Grade Five repertoire is generally the minimum requirement for auditioning to a university level music program in Canada. I have several guitar methods at my disposal for teaching technique, and access to a wide array of repertoire sheet music.

I am also able to teach theory as it pertains to playing the guitar and point you towards texts that from beginner levels up to basic harmonic analysis. I can teach you how chords are constructed, how they fit together into a progression, and the basic grammar of music.

What I Can't Teach:

I can't teach you to shred. Shredding has never really been my thing. Can I show you how to sweep pick? Sure. Can I teach you to play some arpeggios? Sure. Can I drill you in accurate and fast alternate picking? Absolutely. Can I show you a few weird and exotic scales? Yes. But I'm not a shred player.

I can't bring you to a level where you could effortlessly solo over the changes to "Giant Steps" or play in a Steely Dan cover band. But, I can teach you some jazz chords, I can teach you how to comp with chords and how to use guide tones, and I can teach you the basics of soloing over chord changes and what scales to use with what chords. That said, I'm not an expert jazz player, but we can still jam on some modal stuff.

Lessons, Pricing, What to Expect, What a Prospective Student Will Require:

The typical going rate for private music lessons is around $35-$40 and ranges up to well over $100 for some in demand teachers. My fee operates on a sliding scale with a floor of $20USD/$25CAD per hour lesson. If you are comfortable with paying the typical going rate, wonderful, if you are unable to afford more than $20/$25, then that's what you will pay, no questions asked. Payment can be sent through PayPal or Interac e-transfer.

Due to the nature of my chronic illness it would be extremely difficult to take on more than five students a week. They needn't necessarily be the same five students every week; if a bi-weekly lesson schedule works better for a number of people, they can alternate. In the rare event that there is more demand than I am able to fulfill mutuals and longtime followers will have priority.

What you need as a student: A guitar (reminder that these lessons, excepting students interested in the classical guitar, are geared towards the electric guitar); a webcam (I will need a way to see you, your hands, and what your hands are doing); a microphone; a way of letting me hear your playing (whether this will be through positioning your microphone in such a way that it picks up your amplifier or utilizing a direct input method); headphones would be a good idea too.

If you commit to more than one lesson the first will be free of charge. Your first lesson with me will look something like this: we'll talk about your goals and intentions i.e. what it is you hope to get out of taking guitar lessons and how far you want to take your playing. As we chat about that we can chart out a course to get you there, and then we'll just generally see where you're at. The rest of the lesson will be taken up with some pointers on properly caring for and tuning your instrument, and then we'll put some thought towards the way our bodies are posed, how we have the guitar positioned in relation to our bodies, exercising good hand ergonomics, and finding a playing position that is both comfortable and which allows for optimal freedom of movement.

I live in Toronto which is located in the Eastern Standard Timezone (UTC -5) keep this in mind if you're interested in taking lessons and are located elsewhere.

I intend to do my best at being a trooper and toughing it out, and I will aim to not cancel lessons without fair warning, but the nature of my illness virtually guarantees that I may need to resort to this occasionally. You will need to be alright with this.

If you're interested, you can contact me here or at brendanpalangio@gmail.com. Hopefully I can get enough people interested that I can go about figuring out everyone's availability and drawing up a schedule.

[scary-grace]

Off-Script (Act 3) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Tomura's been Dabi's stunt double for almost a decade, and he's not easily impressed, but when he squares up with you for a fight scene, he finds himself caught off-guard in more ways than one. As the shoot progresses and sparks fly between the two of you, Tomura has to decide if you're worth the risk -- or if the best sparring partner he's ever had is all you'll ever be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Act 1 Act 2

Act 3

The party’s in full swing, and even though you’ve been here for an hour at most, Tomura’s already ready to kill Spinner for forcing him to invite you. You’re the only actor at the party. Everyone keeps asking you why you aren’t at the other party, and Tomura’s getting really sick of listening to you explain that you aren’t important enough to go to that one. Once it’s been established that you’re a nobody like the rest of them, one of two things happens. If the person you’re talking to is a woman, they ask you about the fight scene you filmed with Tomura. If you’re talking to a guy, he asks you to dance – and you say yes.

Tomura thought you’d dance with him, since he’s the one who invited you. He made the mistake of saying that to Magne, who switched out the beer in his hand for the double Malibu shot she was holding and told him that unless he’d asked you to go to the party with him specifically, he hadn’t asked you out. Then Twice came by, stole Tomura’s Malibu shot and replaced it with a Long Island Iced Tea, and informed him that just because you play a mind reader in a movie doesn’t mean you can do it in real life.

Tomura threw down half the Long Island in one swallow and almost gagged. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“She’s not gonna know you want to dance with her unless you ask her to dance,” Twice said. Magne nodded sagely. “So ask her to dance. Or – do that, I guess! That works too!”

Tomura had just finished off the rest of the Long Island. Twice patted him on the pack and he almost threw up. “Go get ‘em, Shigaraki! Or go home!”

Tomura thought about going home. Then he decided that he wanted to be drunker first, so he went back to the makeshift bar for something a little less instantly neurotoxic. But that hit pretty fast, too, and it hit hard enough that Tomura decided to sit down rather than try to walk to the shuttle stop and pass out on the way. So that’s what he’s been doing instead of dancing or talking or even drinking more. Sitting on a rock and watching the only actor at the party make herself at home.

Spinner sits down on the rock next to Tomura. Tomura tries to shove him off. “No. Go away.”

Spinner gets comfortable. “Heard anything from Dabi yet?”

Tomura fumbles his phone out of his pocket to check. “Nothing. He’s going to text you, not me. You’re the nice one.”

“Not hard to be, when you’re the one saying shit like I don’t care about this,” Spinner says. Tomura rolls his eyes and gets dizzy. “Look, it was – not great – when you were just being a dick to her. Now you’re being a dick to everybody.”

“It’s your fault for making me invite her.”

“Nope,” Spinner says. “You’ve been in a shitty mood about this since you guys filmed that scene. We all think you should just –”

“Ladies, and those of you who are not ladies, eyes up front!”  Yamada’s in Present Mic mode, which gives Tomura a headache on his best day. “It’s been brought to my attention that everyone is now sufficiently wasted enough for us to begin – drumroll! – the karaoke contest! Who’s up first!”

Nobody wants to be up first, like usual. The first round of the karaoke contest is usually just people bullying their friends onto the stage. Tomura turns to glare at Spinner. “If you even think about it –”

“I wouldn’t do that to you!” Spinner actually looks insulted. “We’re best friends, not mortal enemies!”

“Since you all are being shy, I’m going to pick a volunteer,” Present Mic announces. It’s not volunteering if somebody makes you do it. “And I’m picking somebody who has the pipes for this for sure! Give it up for Jiro Kyoka, who’s going to give us her best Dolly Parton impression on Jolene!”

Jiro smacks Present Mic on her way up to the makeshift stage, and he’s apologizing right up until the music starts. Tomura doesn’t know why, and neither does Spinner, but Jiro’s a good singer even when she’s had a few. The next person who goes up is Mirio, who’s tone-deaf on zero drinks but has had enough to volunteer himself. Attention grabs aren’t really Tomura’s thing – he’d prefer to go unnoticed most of the time – but he knows why the crew gets so into it. They spend all day doing ridiculous amounts of work, only for the actors to get all the credit if the movie does well. If they want to clown around, he’s not going to blame them.

“Room for one more?”

Tomura jumps and so does Spinner. It’s you, holding a water bottle and looking sort of tired. “Go for it,” Spinner says, shoving Tomura to the side and scooting away himself. “Right there.”

You sit down next to Tomura. Tomura hasn’t said a word to you since you got here. He looks around for something to say and comes up with something stupid. “You don’t want to show everybody up at karaoke?”

“If Yamada calls on me I’ll go up,” you say. “If he doesn’t, I’d just look like an asshole for grabbing the spotlight.”

“Isn’t that all actors do? Grab the spotlight?”

“Do you actually want it?” you ask Tomura. Tomura blinks. “You and the other stunt guys are closer to the spotlight than anybody else here. Why stay out of it?”

“That’s the stupidest question anyone’s ever asked me.” Tomura thinks that’s probably an overstatement, but he’s also on the not-fun side of drunk, so he’s giving himself a pass. “Why do you think?”

“So you’re telling me that if I waved a magic wand and changed your face to whatever you think it’s supposed to look like, you’d suddenly want to be famous?”

Tomura should have been paying less attention to who you were dancing with and more to what you were drinking, because while he’s pretty trashed, you’re sober. He’s miscalculated, big-time. “It’s not a trick question,” you say. “I just want to know why you pick on people for chasing something that you don’t even want.”

“Because it’s a waste of time for most of you,” Tomura says. Spinner protests, but Tomura ignores him. You came over here. You started it. “For every big star there’s a thousand people paying union dues who will be extras for their entire careers. How long do you plan on hanging out waiting for a big break that’s not going to happen? Find something else to do that’s – not that – and stop running around getting all starry-eyed. It’s pathetic. Sue me for being annoyed.”

Silence falls. “I’m getting another drink,” Spinner says. “Want anything, Psylocke?”

You shake your head. “I want one,” Tomura says, but Spinner ignores him. Like it’s his fault, somehow, when inviting you was Spinner’s idea in the first place. You haven’t said anything yet. Tomura replays what he just said to you, and guilt strikes him like a sandbag to the back of the head. “Uh –”

“Did you ever think it’s because we love it?”

“Huh?”

“If I was doing this to be famous, I’d have quit a long time ago,” you say. You pass your water bottle to Tomura and lean back on your hands, head tipped to look up at the sky. “Most of us aren’t stupid, or naïve. We know what our odds are like. Making it on the acting side – theatre, movies, TV, whatever – takes getting lucky. Or it takes knowing somebody who knows somebody who owes your mom a favor.”

That’s how Dabi got into it. His dad’s rich, his dad owns a production company, and his dad got him a bit part in some spy movie when he was thirteen that launched his entire career. Dabi’s career is Tomura’s career, so Tomura doesn’t bitch about it. Besides, Dabi’s good at it. But lots of people are good at it. Being good at it doesn’t mean shit, even when it should.

“I know it’s not going to happen,” you say. “Getting steady work is an achievement all on its own, and even that doesn’t pay the greatest. I could make more money doing almost anything else. But I really like what I do. The win for me is getting to do the thing I love every day.”

Tomura tries to wrap his head around that one. It doesn’t work. “Actors want to be famous. That’s why they’re actors.”

“There are other ways to get famous,” you point out. “Do the right kind of porn and you’ll get famous in a hurry.”

Tomura nearly chokes on thin air. “If I wanted money, I’d do something else. If I wanted fame, I’d do something else,” you say. “That leaves you two possible answers. Either I’m really stupid, or I really love what I’m doing. What do you think it is?”

“You’re not stupid,” Tomura says, still coughing. He twists the cap off the water bottle and sucks down a few swallows. “Except maybe for sitting here and putting up with my shit.”

“I’m still trying to figure out what I did to piss you off.” You take the water bottle – your water bottle, Tomura remembers too late – and take a few sips before handing it back. “Is it really just that I’m new?”

“No.” Tomura can’t even remember why. No, he can. “It wasn’t you at first. It was supposed to be Dabi’s fight and he made me do it instead, so I was pissed. And you wouldn’t take the stupid compliment, so I was pissed about that, too.”

“And right now?”

“Who said I’m pissed at you right now?”

“You, five minutes ago, when you were calling me and ninety percent of the actors in the world stupid and naïve,” you say. “What did I do this time?”

Even though Tomura’s starting to sober up, the alcohol smacks him one last time, and it’s a critical hit. “Danced with everybody but me.”

It’s quiet for a second. Then you get to your feet in a smooth, fluid motion that Tomura probably can’t even accomplish sober. “Okay. Now I need that drink.”

You don’t invite Tomura to come with you, but he follows you anyway as you make your way back towards the party. Partway there you stop and he walks into you. You twist around to face him. “You’re mad because I didn���t dance with you? You didn’t ask.”

“I asked you to the party with me, didn’t I?” The sooner Tomura finds something to lean against, the better. He might be sober enough to know he fucked up, but he’s still pretty drunk. Not drunk enough to forget what Magne told him. “If this is just because I didn’t use the exact words –”

“No, it’s because you’ve spent the last two weeks acting like you hate me,” you say. Tomura wants to say you’re exaggerating, but given that Toga and Spinner both called him out, he can’t really say that or anything else. “Now you want to dance? What am I supposed to do with that except get trashed?”

At least now you’re both on the same subject. “Dance.”

“Do you even dance?” You give Tomura a skeptical look. “I don’t know if you can keep up with me.”

Maybe this is how you felt when Tomura acted like you couldn’t swordfight. “I can dance. I was going to go easy on you –”

“Oh, shut up.” You grab Tomura’s hand and pull him towards the dance floor. Tomura barely has time to ditch the empty water bottle before the crowd closes ranks around the two of you, locking you in.

Tomura knows how to dance. More accurately, sober Tomura knows how not to dance, and avoiding that looks enough like knowing how to dance that he can get by. But that’s when he’s sober. When he’s drunk and there’s someone who clearly knows what they’re doing standing in front of him, he’s got absolutely nowhere to hide.

He studies you, trying to see if he can copy your moves, but you don’t really have distinct moves. What you’ve got is pinpoint control over every part of your body, which is what Tomura has, except instead of using it to make it look real when you have to fake getting shot, you’re using it to make dancing look like it’s what you were designed to do. He’d never know you dislocated a rib today if he hadn’t seen the bruise. All he can see is how your moves match the music, how confident you look. It’s hot. Tomura doesn’t think you’re trying to be hot, but he’s still not sober, and he’s paying way too much attention to everything your hips and your ass are doing. He’s supposed to be dancing, too. How is he supposed to look away from that?

Someone bumps into him, and he stumbles forward a few steps, right into your personal space. It doesn’t throw you off even slightly. “I was wondering when you were going to join in,” you say, barely audible over the music. Probably only audible because you’re pressed up against him and your mouth’s barely brushing his ear. “Is this you going easy on me?”

Tomura thinks he could be the best dancer on the planet and he still wouldn’t be able to compete with you. His hands come up of their own accord and settle on your waist, like the two of you are slow-dancing at a junior prom, completely out of sync with the music. You laugh, quiet and dark, but you wrap your arms around Tomura’s neck and rise on your toes to whisper in his ear again. “Pretend we’re fighting.”

You were just fighting. Weren’t you? It takes Tomura a second, but once he gets it, he gets it, along with a rush of adrenaline that’s absolutely insane. He pulls you in tight against him and you lean in, lining your body up with his centimeter by centimeter, limb by limb. One of your arms peels away from around his neck and traces down along the line of his shoulder, and Tomura raises his arm to match, ready to catch your hand by the time you reach his wrist.

Once he takes it, you spin out and away from him, like the two of you are ballroom dancing or some shit. But you come back closer than before, your back pressed to Tomura’s chest, leaning against him. Still holding his hand.

The handholding is fucking with Tomura’s head. He lets go and wraps both arms around your waist, and you twist in his grip to face him, a moment before tipping sideways on purpose. Tomura knew you were going to do it. He felt you telegraph it, the same as you did during the fight scene, and he’s ready to catch you. It looks like you’re ballroom dancing – again – and Tomura’s friends are probably losing their shit watching it, if they’re watching – but you trust Tomura to catch you, and he does.

He sees a smile cross your face before he pulls you back up, and you instantly tip the other way. He’s not as ready for that one, but it doesn’t matter as much, because you’re hooked one leg over his hip and caught yourself.

It’s like you want to break Tomura’s brain. Fuck it. If you’re fighting, he can fight back. He wraps one hand around your back to help you up, but he catches the crook of your knee with his other hand and pulls you tight against him. He feels you startle; then you lean into him again, not quite grinding on him but close enough that his cock doesn’t notice a difference. Or it wouldn’t, if Tomura hadn’t drunk so much earlier. He’s never been so thankful for whiskey dick in his life.

He doesn’t let go of your leg, and you don’t pull away. You wrap your arms around Tomura’s neck again and you tilt your head, studying him, your gaze flicking downwards, then back up. Tomura’s pretty sure you were looking at his mouth, and with your head tilted like that – do you want him to kiss you? Is that why you’re looking at him like that? If he’s reading this wrong, he’s going to fuck everything up, whether he kisses you or not. So he might as well get one kiss in. Tomura squares his shoulders beneath your hands and leans in.

“Hey!”

It’s possible that Tomura’s never been as pissed off at anybody as he is at Spinner right now. Spinner’s standing right there, looking sort of panicked, and you pull away from Tomura instantly, clearly embarrassed. “What?” Tomura shouts at Spinner. It’s lucky that the music’s loud. He can get away with shouting. “What the fuck is –”

Spinner holds up his phone, the screen brightness cranked to maximum. Dabi’s texted – both of them, only Tomura didn’t notice, because he was with you. get me the fuck out of here right now

Shit. Spinner turns and heads off the dance floor, and Tomura follows him. He grabs your hand on the way, so you won’t think he’s ditching you completely, and instead of pulling away, you come along. Once the three of you are clear of the dancers, Spinner turns to Tomura. “If he texted us, that means it’s bad,” he states. Tomura’s not going to argue. “I’m too drunk to drive.”

“So am I,” Tomura says. For a little while longer at least. “If we wait fifteen minutes or something –”

“He said right now,” Spinner says. “It’ll take fifteen minutes at least to get there. He fucked himself over in thirty seconds last time.”

Thirty seconds is generous. Dabi’s managed to get himself into cops-calling trouble in fifteen seconds or less before. Tomura didn’t want to be involved in Dabi’s sobriety, but he didn’t want to fuck him over, either, and this qualifies. That’s not even mentioning what’s going to happen to his career if Dabi drops out of this movie. “We blew it,” Spinner says, his face ashen. “He’s never going to forgive us –”

You tug lightly at Tomura’s hand. “I can drive.”

Tomura looks at you. So does Spinner. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” you say, “but I can tell it’s urgent. I don’t need to know what’s going on to be your designated driver.”

“You didn’t drink?” Spinner asks. You shake your head. “Great. Can you drive stick?”

[kikyoupdates]

Changing Plotlines ⭑˚💞⭑ 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

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When you arrived back at the manor, it was clear that you needed to get your shit in order.

The situation was crazy to begin with, but this newest revelation was something you just couldn’t wrap your head around. It was one thing to reincarnate into the past, or even in a separate world, given the very high likelihood of multiple galaxies existing. But this was just a game. It wasn’t real. So then, how was this possible?

Obviously, you didn’t have the answer to that question, and you weren’t even sure if you ever would find the answer. But that was really beside the point. It didn’t matter how you ended up here—what mattered was what in the hell you were going to do.

For the time being, you decided to lock yourself in your room and try to rack for your brain for just about everything you could remember. Thankfully, you’d just recently finished the game, so most of the details were still relatively fresh in your mind.

The most pressing issue was obviously that the game you found yourself in was by no means a happy one. It was marketed as a dark fantasy for a reason, because the love interests were dangerous and hardly good people. The yandere genre had become explosively popular over the course of the past decade. It was particularly enjoyable due to the strange thrill it provided people with, the mystery and suspense, but yanderes were far from desirable. The game had both a good and bad ending for each of the love interests, with all of the bad endings being remarkably messed up, and even the “good” endings were plenty concerning in their own right.

Which is why it was quite a bitter irony that the game was called Zodin’s Benevolence, given that there was nothing truly benevolent about the twisted challenges the protagonist was forced to undergo. She repeatedly found herself tangled up in all sorts of sinister plots after being adopted into a baron’s family and acquiring a noble status.

The good news was that you hadn’t been reincarnated as the protagonist, which meant that so long as you kept your distance from the main events of the storyline, there shouldn’t really be any reason for you to get dragged into that mess.

A grimace fell upon your lips. Thinking about it like that, it sounded a bit selfish to intentionally ignore a poor woman’s suffering, but you’d finally been given a chance at a proper life. The last thing you needed was to suffer a gruesome death at the hands of yanderes simply because you’d interfered with their twisted obsessions.

“I will do absolutely nothing,” you stated determinedly. “There’s no way my character even existed in the first place. When I woke up in this world, it sort of created a little slot for me to fit in. In other words, I’m a side character, and my actions should have no effect on the story so long as I don’t get involved.”

Yes, that was the plan. Do nothing. You could do that. You were very good at doing nothing.

The rules of this “game” you found yourself in—both literally and figuratively—were rather simple. Actually, there was only one rule at all, and that was to stay as far away from the protagonist and yanderes as possible. Which, given that you’d accidentally run into Cassius today, meant that you already weren’t off to a very good start. But a simple bump-in shouldn’t be reason enough for him to go after you with a vengeance. Apart from deliberating angering him, the only thing you could of think that would incur his wrath would be to prevent him from interacting with the game’s protagonist.

Speaking of... how far into the game am I at this point?

The game began with the protagonist being adopted by a kind baron after dutifully waiting on him during one of his trips to the countryside. She then proceeded to move into his estate, getting acquainted with her new life, and promptly beginning lessons at the renowned academy in Zodite’s capital city, as per her adoptive father’s wishes to grant her a formal education. This was the catalyst that set the plot in motion, because it was at the academy that the protagonist met the first yandere—none other than Cassius himself.

As far as you could recall, Zodin’s Benevolence began sometime early summer, because the baron encountered the protagonist while in the middle of a leisurely seasonal trip. Given how warm the weather currently was, summer was either peeking right around the corner, or already here. Which meant that there likely wasn’t much time left until the official plot was set in motion.

Although you had no concrete benchmark as to when it would officially begin, one thing was for sure. If you wanted to avoid an early death again, you would need to keep your eyes peeled for the protagonist’s appearance and keep her away from you by any means.

You frowned, nibbling on your bottom lip.

It’s okay. I can be selfish. No, I have to be selfish. It’s the only way.

Dying from illness was one thing, but the things those crazy bastards were capable of... you had a feeling that dying by their hands would be a million times more painful than anything you’d ever endured.

This new life had been placed right in the palms of your hands, and you’d be damned if you were going to let go of it.

“Mom, dad. Do you think it would be alright if I stopped going to the academy?”

After having discovered that you were in a yandere dating sim, that was the question you chose to ask your parents the very next morning.

Naturally, they were completely flabbergasted.

“Is this another one of your jokes? You wanted to go to school so badly up until now. Sorry, we’re just struggling to understand where all this is coming from.”

It had been your hope that in not attending the academy, you could prevent any run-ins with both the protagonist and the yanderes. But truthfully, you did want to go to school, because your sickness had prevented you from actually attending college back in your old world. It sounded like the version of you in this world was interested in pursuing an education as well, so perhaps it was for the best that you went. You couldn’t stand to see your parents’ disappointed expression once more, even in this reality.

From what you recalled seeing in the game, the campus was quite large, so if you were cautious, there was no reason for you to get wrapped up with the yanderes.

That being said...

You still didn’t want to be ill-prepared for what this world had to offer. There was only so much that had been outright stated in the game; you would have to find out the rest for yourself. One of the key points that you wanted to look into was the usage of magic. In this world, magic was mainly used through magical ores, which helped to supply certain buildings with things like electricity, heat, and even reinforcing walls with something akin to a barrier. Some people were blessed with magical abilities themselves, although it was exceedingly rare. The topic of mages had been briefly touched upon in the game, and it seemed as though with every passing generation, fewer and fewer people found themselves capable of such feats. Dwindling bloodlines, or something like that.

It did make you curious, though. Was it at all possible that you might be fortunate enough to be a mage yourself? If so, you could train your abilities to make sure that you would be able to protect yourself from harm in the event that something really did go wrong.

You didn’t really know how to use magic, though. After all, the game didn’t exactly expand on this detail very much.

So, you tried various methods to see if you could channel some hidden power. Reciting cringy incantations, straining your body so hard that it made you feel like you had to rush to the bathroom—you even drew a horribly misshapen pentagram on the floor of your bedroom, with leftover jam from your breakfast, and Lizbell nearly fainted when she saw the mess.

Needless to say, none of it worked, so you decided to just come out and ask.

“Can I use magic?”

For the second time that same morning, your parents gaped at you.

“My dear, what’s the matter?” your father chuckled. “You’ve been going full throttle since yesterday. Your mother and I can hardly keep up.”

“Does that mean I can’t use magic?”

“Of course not, good heavens. You know very well we don’t come from a family of mages.”

Despite their immediate dismissals, you knew that it was possible for people to potentially grow into their magical powers. Magical ability was traditionally passed down by blood, but it could just as easily manifest in an unsuspecting individual. Hopefully, that individual was you.

“I haven’t been able to use magic up until now, but something may have changed recently,” you persisted. “That’s what I meant. I’m wondering if my abilities have awakened by now.”

Fortunately, your parents had always been the patient sort, so they merely shrugged their shoulders. “If you're really still holding out hope for a thing, then you can always go and get tested at the Bureau of Magic.”

You decided to do just that. The Bureau of Magic’s central headquarters was a large, impressive building. You didn’t really know anything about this organization, but you were tickled pink by the thought of being magically gifted on top of having perfect health. You could already imagine it, shooting fireballs from your hands and creating geysers out of nothing.

You were going to be the best mage ever—

“Zero magical affinity,” the man testing you stated. “Although there are cases where people may develop magic over time, by looking at your mana reservoir, I can tell that there is absolutely no chance of you ever becoming a mage.”

Well, that was certainly a short-lived dream.

The man then frowned, peering closer into the strange device he was measuring your aptitude with. “Come to think of it though, this is really strange. Even average citizens have very trace amounts of mana in their system. Mana is present in all living things, whether or not they can actually manifest that mana and convert it into magical energy. I’ve never seen a case like yours before, not in all my years of working here. You’re an anomaly. Almost as if you aren’t meant to be a part of this world...”

Uh-oh. It sounded like he was starting to get suspicious, so you hurried to wave him off. “Your machine must be broken,” you dismissed flippantly. “Anyways, I’ve already lost interest in becoming a mage, so I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“What? Miss, if you could just—”

“Gotta go, bye!”

Since magic was clearly a no-go, you figured you should at least have another plan to fall back onto. You were weak and sickly back in your previous life, but you had a perfectly healthy body in this one. There was no reason you couldn’t pick up a weapon and learn how to protect yourself. For instance, sword-fighting!

“You want to do what?” your parents blanched. It was the third time today that they were confused beyond belief, though they looked particularly horrified in this instance.

“Sword-fighting,” you repeated calmly. “I just think it’d be neat.”

“Oh, [Name], but why that of all things? Those blades are seriously dangerous, you know. You could hurt yourself!”

“Well, not if I’m good at it.”

“Someone in your position will never have to worry about their safety,” they insisted. “We can hire more guards to keep watch outside the manor if it’ll help you feel better. Come on now, what use have you for a weapon like that?”

“It’s not that I’m worried about my safety.” That’s a lie. “I just want to challenge myself and see if I can do this. Plus, I think it’d be pretty amazing if I could pull something like this off. I’d be bragging about it constantly.” Okay, that part isn’t entirely a lie.

Their reluctance was plain as day, but as expected—they just couldn’t seem to say no to you.

“Very well,” your father sighed. “But we’ll at least be hiring an instructor to ensure that you have someone watching over you and making sure you’re safe while you train. Please allow us at least this much.”

“Yeah, that’s fine!” you beamed. “I’ll learn faster with a teacher, anyways.”

So far, things were looking good. You had your plan to stay out of everyone’s way and make sure you didn’t become a target, and in the event that it all failed, you would at least have some way of fighting for your life.

“Oh, and uh, the sooner the better,” you said. “I’d like to start learning as early as possible, since I’m just so excited! Okay? Okay!”

You proceeded to skip out the room before they could mutter a protest.

It was actually incredible how much your parents loved you. They were parents from a different reality, but your parents nonetheless. In spite of their visible concerns to allow you to wield a sword, they’d managed to secure you a personal instructor in less than twenty-four hours.

Currently, you were out in the courtyard, eagerly awaiting your guest. You were dressed in a loose tunic and comfortable pants that were perfecting for working up a sweat in. It was a shame you couldn’t wear clothes like these more often, though you had to admit that your collection of dresses was rather delightful.

It was hot out. Definitely summer, you were sure of it now. It was a good thing you were starting your sword-fighting lessons so early on. Even if you never ending up needing your soon-to-be lethal skills, you would definitely feel more at ease knowing that you had them.

Your personal instructor was apparently a knight, so you were already inclined to trust that he had hands-on experience. You wondered what he’d look like. Knights in fantasy settings like this one were always so damn attractive. Hopefully he wasn’t much older than you...

Ah, focus, goddammit! What does it matter what he looks like? The most important thing is staying alive.

You lightly slapped yourself upside the head. Right. No distractions. You were no longer the same weak person from your miserable previous life. You were a living miracle, and a future sword-wielding badass.

Hardly a minute later, your tortuous wait seemed to have come to an end, and you were able to get a good look at your new instructor.

Wait, is that...

“Good day, Lady [Name],” the knight greeted, bowing his head courteously. “My name is Sergei Garin, member of the Cavalry Brigade. I am humbled to be in your service.”

You couldn’t quite seem to hide the shock on your face. Sergei Garin. You knew this character. Fortunately, he wasn’t one of the yanderes—otherwise, you would’ve probably feigned a heart attack to get out of this situation. No, he was nothing but a supporting character, although a character that you admittedly had a soft spot for.

Why did you have a soft spot for him? Well...

Probably because he was fated to die.

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💞 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[daemon-in-my-head]

Bout that essay titled 'A study of Gortash's twisted love of humanity'- yk what fuck it here goes nothing. Back into a facists megalomaniacs mind we go. Spoiler; this is long.

But first of all; let's do a thought experiment. Let's just assume, for shits and giggles, Gortash's position would've somehow been swapped with any other the other chosen or another Banite:

Let's start with the Banites: if we had gotten anyone except for Gortash Baldur's Gate would've been fucked. Like genuinely. Banites are cruel, vicious, unashamedly gaudy (they suck ass at infiltration missions) and they exploit loopholes perhaps even better than fiends. Any other Banite would've simply reveled in the fear caused by rampant myrkulites and bhaalists and probably stoked that fire by employing some of their own forces. And depending on whether the Zhents join the winning side or not they would've probably used and abused the black network to absolutely dominate trade and potentially choke out every non desirable in the city itself by fun activities such as grand scale slavery, starving an entire city, or simply employing enough mercenaries and some Bhaalist to get the job done. Banites fuck everyone over so hard they usually don't even stop at themselves, and prideful cruel beings who know absolutely no bounds in their desire for power commonly don't hesitate, especially not Banites who thrive in backstabbing. So the other chosen and the grand design are fucked cuz they will most certainly get removed for the sake of someone more desirable the second they somehow irk Banes favourite toy. Which in some specific cases (all of them) would be in 5 minutes flat. If you thought the local nobility was bad just wait until you see a Banite in their natural environment.

Ketheric: Yeah Baldur's Gate is fucked. Ketheric cares about one thing and one thing only; Isobel. And he employs a bunch of sadistic necromancers who have no concept of personal boundaries or consent for that matter, so chances are he'd let them roam freely in Baldur's Gate, making the streets a huting ground for his followers to find prime subjects to perform inhumane experiments on all while he turns a blind eye; either busy trying to get Isobel under his (mind-) control, reviving her or treating a brainless puppet that looks and once was his daughter like his one true solution to decades of grief and fucking up. He wouldn't care about what happens to the city, to the other chosen or even the grand design. He'd follow his gods orders but thats about it and no matter whether that's still Myrkul or Bane; everyone's fucked cuz surpringly the guy who adores lichdom more than life and the other guy who'd rather 'burn everyone's fields than loose' aren't about to give out any orders that will benefit anyone but themselves.

Orin: Another great case of 'yeah Baldur's Gate is fucked'. Orin wants one thing and one thing only: recognition. Preferably from Bhaal but she'd take anyone at this point. The problem about this whole thing is, she's been conditioned and instilled with so much self-loathing my dearest murder princess can't even begin to realise when she's getting shown any sort of adoration anymore and immediately understands it as mockery, see, for example, her butler. Is what I would say if their corpse wasn't chilling in Durges old bedroom. All Orin would do is stage ever grander and more elaborate public massacres and involuntary 'anatomy displays'. Baldur's Gate wouldn't simply be fucked; give her a week, and the majority of it would be dead. This works well for Bhaal, but for anyone else, it would kinda suck. Including the other two of the dead three. And the cult would probably still loathe her simply due to her not being a true Bhaalspawn, so cue Orin's madness reaching an absolute boiling point. She doesn't and would never care for any of the other chosen or the grand design. Unless she's reigned in, she's a utterly loose canon, even more so than she was already, with Gortash or Durge at the helm, respectively.

Now time for my favourite of the reckless murder hobos; Durge. Given the few in game notes we have Durge had a thing for obliteration. Including but not limited to every living being + themselves. So let's just assume Gortash’s cocky upstart charm and Orins assassination attempt didn't work out as planned and they are still the de facto leader but now without any leash. Baldur's Gate is probably obliterated. Alongside whatever else remains of the sword coast. Or Troil. They'd probably also have some weird ass fuck relationship with the brain cuz they already did without being the undisputed leader. And the brain would probably discard the grand design themselves cuz somehow Durge has that effect on things (might be the innate charm magic of Bhaalist priests that they use to convince people to join a literal murder cult). Either way, with Durge not giving a single damn about the other chosen, any plans but Bhaals (or their misunderstood version of it) and a dramatic love for self-obliteration, it may finally be time to remedy the elves' mistake and rip Abeir-Toril apart properly. Ao hates this trick, alongside everyone else, probably including Bhaal himself.

Which is all my longwinded way of saying; Gortash is the lesser evil. In any set of circumstances he displays enough leniency, monster fucker vibes and rationality to somehow keep this ruined, sinking ship from hitting the sea floor immediately. He has enough of a twisted love for humanity left, compared to the others, to a degree that he doesn't blindly follow orders or actively seeks the destruction of everything, let alone 'true' domination the way Bane intends to have it.

But yes, indeed, Gortash performed fucked up and cruel experiments. No doubt about that. And yet it was still on a lesser scale than a mad massive hoard of necromancers could, and his experiments, for the most part, actually yielded results, didn't they? Presumably, the Coginator and the remote control brain mechanism used for the Steelwatch. After all, there are zombies(?) in there, controlling that shit. However, the experiments on loving families were probably one of his selfish indulgences and his sorry attempt at figuring out if he was just born loathsome and his family sucks ass or if that's normal and humanity doesn't deserve a second chance. Or a 30th. FR lore is fucked up.

This is also a great transition to exhibit B of my thesis why Gortash does in fact love or is at the very very very least heavily intrigued by humanity; the sole existence of the Steelwatch. Listen, my guy serves Bane. Bane hates planning. He likes immediate results. So much so he actively pisses off his situationship Bhaal for it. Repeatedly. And he likes fear and tyranny. So what do you think the chances are that the black hand would actually enjoy the thought of a mecha army patrolling the streets of Baldur's Gate, keeping them save, and worst of all, instilling hope in the hearts of the populous, peasants and nobles alike? Yeah, absolutely fucking none. And yet Gortash did that. And he's not even just a regular banite. He's Banes chosen. He carries a part of Bane's divinity within himself. He has the de facto highest position in the local faith. He's Banes favourite toy rn. He's the centre of attention and he still goes out of his way to use things that could 1000% inspire fear and hatred to sow fucking hope and a sense of safety of all things in plain sight? I bet his adorable wrinkly ass that Bane wasn't happy and that even a thousand rituals to redeem his leniency won't save him from getting tortured extra hard for this fuck up. And considering the state of the Banites scriptures we found, and his entire character, Gortash is smart enough to know this is something Bane absolutely loathes. And yet my guy did that.

Another thing is the hive mind. Bane would probably not hate it outright, as its still 'burning the fields' by turning souls illithid, but it's wasted potential. Because there's so many great things you can do with a hivemind and the remote control over people's thoughts and emotions, for example instilling fear and terror the very things Bane loves. But that's, once again, not Gortash plan. If the notes and one of the evil endings is anything to go by the hivemind doesn't trap people in a state of torment, it does the polar opposite. People are happy, enjoying a better, simpler and nicer life. Enjoying an idea of what their life could've been like. They're smiling, happy, enjoying a casual market stroll and the bountiful rewards of the fields. Which is all things that a good Banite should hate and never inflict on someone. AND YET that's presumably Gortashs plan. Create a hivemind where everyone can dream happily and do soulless labour without noticing it while the world goes to absolute shit but the people do not. It's basically noah's arc. It's paradise in hell. The people are 'saved' while the gods continue to fight their petty games, and Gortash alone lords over this perfect dream. Protecting it answer using it to advance further.

Now, about the busts found in his office. Most of them depicted rather unsavoury, cruel people. Except for one. Which honours a self made person who took pity on those who had less. On those considered lesser by the upright and honourable citizens of the Gate. It's weird how, between all those symbols and testaments to cutlery and tyranny, there's still a sliver of empathy, renegade justice and even care for fellow humans imbued, isn't it? And what's even weirder, all of them are found in Gortash's most private place? His own little office hidden far above the grandeur of the throne room and the Fortress, where he sits at the helm, lording over his subjects and scheming his little plans? This is an excellent example of show, don't tell btw. It's hitting you over the head with the implications. But just in case, this might very well be a reflection of Gortashs mind itself and the visible expression of him being incapable of letting go of humanity as a whole, still carrying it somewhere not even that well buried between the resentment and cruelty but out in plain view for everyone curious enough to touch it because what others reason would he have tob'play the benelovent ruler' in a place where no one sees it? Where only his most trusted and fellow Banites mingle?

And, ofc, as I am a durgetash truther, another exhibit. Him fucking Bhaals gore baby and putting a leash on it prematurely. You see, I've already talked about Banes likes and dislikes plenty so it should come as no surprise that the Edgelord Surpreme wouldn't hate carnage wrought upon foolish mortals by idiots who follow lesser gods than himself, since it would still somehow contribute to people being scared and panicking. But Gortash, being the ever faithful fuck up of a Banite, reigns in the Bhaalist and even the Myrkulites enough for that to kinda never really happen. He stopped the carnage from happening altogether, in fact, by giving the others enough scraps to keep them satisfied and from acting out but not enough freedom to fuck up his plans. I mean, heck he was apparently so convincing he managed to get Durge, again, biggest fan of self-obliteration, from going on an apocalyptic rampage cuz 'daddy I like his brain and I don't mean for dinner'. Him doing that actively contributed to preventing another Bhaalspawn crisis, which could've very well happened with Bhaals resurgence and revival, 2.5 loose canons and no ward of a random old guy in sight. But also him providing a clear goal and orders for Ketheric kept the lich from giving in to the sweet release of just not caring at all whatsoever. Everyone had their designated roles and boundaries and that was perhaps the only thing keeping this group of mentally unstable creatures from unleashing an apocalyptic nightmare; which again would've worked in their gods favour and technically didn't need any prevention.

And about the Gondians... Yeah this is gonna sound fucked up, cuz it is, but Gortash is actually treating them exceptionally nice. Their families are actually still alive and its not just a lie he's telling them, we don't actually see anyone getting flayed, strung up or tortured in some other way outright, they actually get to wear clothes and presumably they're fed enough to a degree that most of them can still somewhat work and the collar and the threat of your head exploding does suck but he could've also simply chained them to their work stations but they aren't. Let alone use charms or other beguiling and fucked up magic to force them into complacency. And they're not being resold or redistributed or forced to serve some random ass guy. The Gondians are, from a Forgotten Realms and probably Bane's perspective, treated exceptionally well. As are their families. Still undoubtedly fucked up and kinda sadistic with the whole explosion collar but objectively speaking he's one of the nicer slave masters. And they do allow him to produce the Steel Watchers en mass which once again contributes to the overall safety of Baldurs Gate and its other citizens. Still the lesser evil.

Though to be fair; Gortash also did some things Bane would really celebrate. Like somehow cheating his way into obtaining the Iron Throne, fucking Bhaals favourite and most fucked up """"child"""" and of course, keeping his parents alive and in agony to eternally fuel Banes fear kink. Except, it's only Sally who's afraid. Dravo is basically a blue screen of death personified at this point. He's a hollow, numb husk, isn't he? So somehow this once again doesn't align with Banes goals and Gortash's duty as a Banite. He's fucked it up again. But Gortash could've also simply killed them if all he wanted was revenge. Why go out of your ways, program elaborate scripts into them, keep the very place that testaments his fucked up past in good condition? Because a quick death would be too merciful? But then why is he so quick to turn on Durge if they betray him in a much smaller scale than his parents did. Well, perhaps he chose not to simply kill the very people who prepared Belladonna in the kitchen when he came to visit because he himself still needs them. Because underneath all that rage and spite there's still a broken boy who wants to hear his parents, albeit empty praise, and who wants to prove to them that he can be better? That his useless playing around actually helped better humanity, that he himself helped countess people and made lives better when all they thought he'd be useful as would be a pawn?

So, is it twisted? Yes. Is it rotten? Absolutely. Is it anything you'd consider to be 'conventional'? Absolutely not. But he does hold some wildly fucked up 'love' for humanity, if only as means to a grander goal (that being himself, ofc) or perhaps cuz he's genuinely incapable of letting go. Whether it's that, to spite Raphael, Bane and his parents or someone else, who knows. Probably nobody. But the shit he does is unorthodox and oddly self-sacrificial in a way where I just can't go, 'yeah no he absolutely loathes the sheer existence of the concept'.

I still think it's a missed opportunity he's not trying to build a spelljamming port though. I feel like he would absolutely do that somewhere down the line, if only to limit the black networks influence.

[helough]

One Missile Took Everything—But You Can Help Us Rebuild 🏠💔

In a single moment, my family’s entire world turned to rubble. One missile hit our home in Gaza, and with it, decades of dreams, memories, and hard work were destroyed. 😭

My name is Ghaida, I’m 19 years old, and I’ve watched my life fall apart before my eyes. For forty years, my father worked tirelessly to build our home—a safe place filled with love and hope. But war doesn’t spare dreams. 💔 We lost everything, including my father’s small shop, our only source of income. Now, we live in a fragile tent that barely protects us from the scorching summer heat ☀️ or the freezing rains of winter 🌧️.

What hurts most is seeing my father—once strong and proud—now broken, unable to provide for us. All he wants is to rebuild our home and give us a chance to live with dignity again.

**🙏 How You Can Help Us Rebuild:**

- 🏡 Help us rebuild our home, brick by brick, to create a safe space again.

- 🛠️ Support the restoration of my father’s shop so we can regain our independence.

- 🍞 Provide basic necessities like food, clean water, and clothing to help us survive each day.

Your kindness can be the foundation of a new beginning for us. Even the smallest donation can make a world of difference. 🌟

**Please, stand with us in this journey. Together, we can rebuild what was destroyed and give hope a home again.** 🫶🏻

🙏 Thank you for being the light in our darkest days. 💖

[tumblerislovetumblerislife]

2024 Writing Year in Review

tagged by @nix-nihili, thank you darling <3 this is gonna get long, buckle in!

January

the radiant university: the radiant emperor duology, ma/zhu, ouyang/esen

five people. five conversations. who will win this episode of the radiant university? (spoiler: it's wang baoxiang. everyone else is too busy making out.)

May

the ghost of the past that you live in: dead boy detectives, payneland

It didn’t start as much. As anything, really. Charles noticed him in the hallways only because he was new, which was rare in Year 11, and because he smiled shyly whenever Charles said hi. Aysar, he’d introduced himself, and Charles liked the way the syllables formed in his mouth. He wanted to be Aysar’s friend. Or: Five boys Charles didn't date, and one he did.

June

2 dead 2 boys: dead boy detectives, cryland, payneland, palasaki

It had been pretty obvious to Crystal from the start: their closeness and comfort with each other, the way they moved in sync, the way Edwin couldn’t quite contain his jealousy at Charles’ interest in her. She’d seen it before (where?), a relationship that one person wanted open and the other didn’t but would go along with, out of love. Ah, lack of communication. The enemy of polyamory. Or: Crystal comes to the horrifying realization that these boys are not dating, and leads them to enlightenment (polyamory).

take your chances (win or lose her): dead boy detectives, payneland, palasaki, charles & his mum

His dad was sitting in the living room – Charles ignored the instinct screaming at him to move away from Edwin – with his head in his hands. His mum wasn’t visible. It shouldn’t have been strange. Charles had seen both of them alone, at times, though rarely now as age caught up with them. But he and Edwin had been in the business too long to ignore bad feelings. They exchanged a glance, Edwin’s eyebrows beginning to furrow, and then Charles’ dad shifted, and bright morning light caught on his red, red knuckles. Or: Maybe Charles’ death was the wake-up call his dad needed to become a better man. Then again, maybe it wasn’t.

touch my tears with your lips (touch my world with your fingertips): dead boy detectives, payneland

Over the years, their music collection grew, until a shelf for their records joined the shelves for their books. Edwin was proud to say that the acquisition of the record player had made their office more lively, ghosts though they were. He certainly enjoyed their dancing lessons. If Edwin noted Charles’ quiet singing during this time, it was only to classify Charles as having enough musical talent to not clash horribly with the original singers’ voices. Some decades later, Edwin discovered the magnitude of his error. Or: Charles attempts to woo Edwin with the power of Queen.

July

if i could reach the stars (i’d give them all to you): dead boy detectives, payneland, palasaki

Loving Edwin was the easiest thing in the world. Charles got so used to it that he could sometimes go months without thinking about it, until Edwin did something kind or charming or literally just stood there catching the light in exactly the right way, and it would hit Charles all over again, like getting socked in the face. It certainly made for some interesting decades together. Or: Charles falls first. Edwin falls harder. Surprisingly little changes.

August

acu (aysar cinematic universe): dead boy detectives, payneland, palasaki

“Welcome to the Dead Boy Detective Agency, I am Edwin Payne. My partner should be returning shortly. Why don’t you tell me about your case?” “Yes, of course,” said the client, perfectly politely. “I am seeking justice. It was an incident that has haunted me, if you will excuse my wording, for years.” A pause. “I want justice for –” “Charles Rowland, hi!” said Charles, already wincing at his own timing. He hadn’t realised the ghost was winding up to the big reveal. Whoops. Or: A ghost from the past comes knocking. Charles gets justice; Edwin gets a hint.

September

(don't you) forget about me: dead boy detectives, payneland

Edwin returned to the envelope, from which his attention should never have veered, and opened it with a single, precise cut. The letter opener was returned to Charles – another brief, searing touch – as Edwin carefully removed and unfolded the glossy paper. The crest in the letterhead, a bloody wound against the white background, immediately caught his eye. “St. Hil’s, innit?” Charles, leaning over Edwin’s shoulder, confirmed what they both knew. They exchanged a dark, speaking glance. No, neither of them had fond memories of that place. Or: Edwin attends his high school reunion and is very normal about his (legal) partner.

(black is the colour) of my true love's hair: dead boy detectives, payneland

“Edwin,” Charles said, one splendid morning. “D’you notice anything different? About me?” With his face angled towards the window, Charles was lovingly lit by the morning sun, caught as it was on his forehead and cheeks and chin, limning the straight line of his nose and pooling in the depths of his dark eyes, lingering on his lips as if in a kiss. Beyond the light: the curve of his ear, his rather exquisite jawline, the glint of his earring and necklace, his bare shoulders, lean and strong, the curls of his hair just brushing them – Or: The boys spend a morning in the office; Charles has a lightbulb moment.

lovesick girls: dead boy detectives, palasaki

The thing was, the boys might tease Crystal about taking long to get ready, but she didn’t, not really. And the few times she did, she’d let you know beforehand. Niko checked her phone again. No new messages. A thought drifted into her mind like a dark cloud over the sun, taking all the brightness and warmth of the day with it. Crystal had told them stories from before she lost her memories, of the horrible things she’d done to friends and strangers alike. (To warn them off, Niko and Edwin privately thought.) What if one such thing was asking out some loser, only to stand them up and go laugh behind their backs with some friends? What if it’d been a joke all along? Or: Niko doesn’t quite get the first date she was expecting.

October

nectar, affection, truth: dead boy detectives, palasaki

if a girl looked at me like That i would simply perish Or: Art of the Look™ from episode 8.

it was only a (demonic) kiss: dead boy detectives, palasaki

“I need to talk…” Crystal took a deep breath and continued, “…to the thing inside Niko. The demon. I have a really attractive offer.” The demon forced Niko upright in jerky, unnatural movements, the fully black sclera only adding to the horror movie effect. Nothing at all like Niko’s sweet brown eyes. Crystal fought back a shiver. “You’ve got nothing I want, sweetheart. I just need to read one pesky little book, and then I’ll be on my way! So stay out of it.” Or: A newly sprite-free Crystal will do whatever it takes to save a victim of demonic possession: her neighbor, Niko Sasaki.

(if you cut me) i'll bleed pink: dead boy detectives, palasaki

Crystal was just opening her locker, the first time she saw her. The most beautiful girl in the world, probably, all shiny black hair and wide eyes, a cute outfit and an even cuter smile. Crystal could swear that when their eyes met, the world lit up with stars and hearts and bright pink light. She couldn’t look away. Or: Crystal meets someone new at the high school her parents shipped her off to.

can't see the stars for clouds: dead boy detectives, palasaki

“So, what do you do around here?” Niko asked, when all the introductions had been handled, and she and the cloud goddess – Crystal, a pretty name for a pretty goddess – stood just within sight of Edwin and his sun god suitor. After all, being chosen as a chaperone for this celestial courting was the highest honor imaginable – unless you were the moon god’s best, and maybe only, friend. Or not anymore, by the look of Charles’ easy smile and the loosening line of Edwin’s shoulders, visible even through the veil. Niko sure hoped so. It would be nice for Edwin to get a friend out of this union, at the very least. She hoped for more, but then, she’d always been a romantic. Or: The star and cloud goddesses must chaperone the courting sun and moon gods. However shall they pass the time?

when you see the flashing of the lights (remember you're in love tonight): dead boy detectives, palasaki

“I’m… I’m right across the hall,” Crystal said, not quite sure where she was going with this, only that she wanted this girl to keep looking at her. Forever. “If you…” “I like your jacket!” the girl interrupted, and slammed the door in her face. Crystal blinked a couple of times, quickly, and it was only around the tenth one that she realized the world had changed. It appeared… warmer, almost. The lights looked different from the walls looked different from Charles’ shirt as he asked, “What are you doing?” Or: Seeing your soulmate makes the world gain color. So do the dandelion sprites. What could possibly go wrong?

grinning from ear to ear in purple lace: dead boy detectives, palasaki

Every manga Niko read, every movie she watched, the smutty fanfiction she’d devoured from what was a probably too young age – all of them said the same thing: sex was a serious thing. You had to be amazing at it, even if it was your first time. You had to know exactly what your partner wanted. You had to look hot the whole time. You were not supposed to laugh during it. Or: Niko and Crystal’s first time.

it'll seem more like a song (when you pull on my hair): dead boy detectives, payneland

The implications of Charles putting up a ‘Closed’ sign took a slow, syrupy second to filter through. Charles had planned this. Impetuous, spur-of-the-moment Charles had planned this. At the same time, from his position mouthing at Edwin’s clavicle, Charles murmured, “Can I try something new?” Or: Edwin and Charles have some fun with his long hair.

memories decay into these stories: dead boy detectives, payneland

“Everyone has a place. Don’t you want to know what yours is? It might be wonderful,” the Night Nurse told Charles, her voice soothing as a lullaby. Charles faltered at the Night Nurse’s words. His shoulders loosened; his cricket bat descended out of its ready position. Stood behind him, Edwin could not see his expression, but he could imagine it well enough: a slack expression, morphing slowly into wide-eyed wonder. Charles took a dazed step toward her. And, in the single most selfish act of his entire existence – Edwin darted after him, clutching handfuls of his coat, and tried to hold Charles back. Or: The Night Nurse says a little less. Edwin does a little more. They all deal with the consequences.

(call me baby) run his hands through my hair: dead boy detectives, payneland, palasaki

It had been quite some time since Charles and Niko, armed with a truly astonishing amount of clothing, disappeared into the office’s spare bedroom. Only their murmurs and the occasional bright peals of laughter were audible through the walls, providing no hint as to what they were doing. Edwin and Crystal had been relegated to the main office to ward away any would-be clients on the agency’s official day off. Or: Charles gets a makeover! Edwin gets a makeover! Everybody gets a makeover!

we would be so good (if we were given the chance): dead boy detectives, payneland

“Kinda makes you want to write your own poetry, doesn’t it?” It was a split-second of an expression – a sideways flash of the eyes, a tinge of colour in the cheeks – before Edwin said, composed as always, “Indeed. But that is a task best left to the professionals, I believe.” Anyone else would have missed it. But Charles wasn’t in the habit of missing things, not when it came to Edwin. “Wait,” he said slowly, and Edwin’s eyes were already closing in defeat. “Have you – You’ve written poetry?” Or: Charles, Edwin, and poetry.

November

love's so strange (so real in the dark): dead boy detectives, payneland

To illustrate his point, he gave Charles’ necklace a sharp tug. Charles did not answer the question, because Charles’ eyes were slipping shut and his lips were parting around a pretty gasp, the necklace slackening under Edwin’s finger as Charles followed the motion down – “Charles…” Edwin whispered, and it was not quite a question and not quite a warning. If he were to be brutally honest with himself – something he rarely allowed – it was simply to feel the shape of it in his mouth. “Tell me to stop,” Charles said at last, breaking the charged silence between them. His voice was hoarse. Edwin swallowed with difficulty. Charles’ eyes dipped down, and his ridiculously long lashes accenting the motion, until there could be no doubt that he was staring at Edwin’s mouth. “Tell me to stop, and I will.” Or: In another universe, the doorbell doesn’t ring.

take the ribbon from your hair (shake it loose, let it fall): dead boy detectives, payneland

In mere hours, Charles would tie his hair back, out of the way of their work. Sometimes he missed a strand, which would then frame his face most fetchingly. Terribly tempting, that one curl, not to mention the fantasy of tucking it behind his ear and then ravishing him beyond what his poor hair tie could contain. For now, there was no such restriction, and so it was yet another thing Edwin planned to take full advantage of. He took hold of Charles’ hair and simultaneously set his teeth against Charles’ neck. Charles’ grip on him tightened. With a barely perceptible pop, Edwin’s shirt vanished. Or: The first time Charles vanished Edwin’s clothes.

a lap dance club without the dancers: dead boy detectives, (sapphic) payneland

The woman was a sight and a half. Glazed eyes, dark strands of hair sticking to flushed cheeks, the proper button-down doing nothing to hide the way her chest heaved with her rapid breaths. Easy. Charlize had barely started. And, oh, there was still so much she planned to do… Or: A lap dance gets a little out of hand.

December

need an adversary (to my down-to-marry): dead boy detectives, palasaki, payneland

The guests all stood and turned back to face the doors as they slid open. The music rose to a crescendo, and in walked Edwin, beautifully dressed and clutching a spray of flowers. He was wearing that small and secret smile that Charles knew better than his own, strutting down the aisle like it was a runway privileged enough to feature him. Charles couldn’t take his eyes off him even if he wanted to. The world and everyone in it faded away, ‘til Edwin was all he could see. If Charles could choose to live in this moment for the rest of forever, he would. Or: A real wedding; a fake relationship. What could possibly go wrong?

tagging @tragedy-machine, @lolotr, @aletterinthenameofsanity, @c-rowland, @shadowquill17 and whoever else wants to take part! <333

[frozenjokes]

tall claims court!

convex week day 4 - gift/prank - prev/next

@convexweek if I name drop the prompt in the end it counts right

“So you see, your honor, this sun is unworthy of his position in such a high value system, and I believe that the rest of this hearing should leave you and the jury thoroughly convinced!” Scar made a little flourish with his hand at the end of his opening statement, which Cub thought was stupid, but all of Scar’s opening statement was stupid, so this wasn’t a huge surprise.. but the judge, Bdubs, seemed to enjoy it regardless. This was going to be a long day.

At least Mumbo’s response was strong, even if Cub was only half listening. Mumbo was nearly as confident a speaker, and the things he was saying actually made sense, so that helped! Cub felt the need to emphasize that he literally hadn’t done anything, but whatever.

The other half of Cub’s splintered focus was on Scar, just sitting at his place in the stand, regarding Mumbo with more attention and respect that Cub was giving his own lawyer.

“Despite his rocky exterior and curt dealing with the moons in his system, my client has done nothing deserving of this drastically out of proportion proposed sentencing.”

When Mumbo sat down, Cub was still looking at Scar. Mumbo elbowed him and Cub jumped, a few sparks flying from his shoulders.

“What?”

“Stop ogling the prosecutor.” Mumbo hissed under his breath, to which Cub responded at a normal volume, no need to whisper.

“I’m not.”

Judge Bdubs glanced their way, but said nothing as the court was passed back to Scar, the moon introducing his first witness. Cub had no idea who this ‘witness’ was, not by name or face, and he assumed this would likely be a trend. Whoever they were, though, they did not look happy with Cub. Scar prompted them to begin.

“I was a Mars moon, one of the two orbiting that planet, and I was having some interpersonal issues with the other moon, with few places to go. We just didn’t get along, and I was feeling lost, anxious, and while I would have loved to visit Earth, I just felt too anxious to be in such proximity to other life. I was in a bad way. So I went to Cub.” The moon turned their frosty glare to Cub, which took him a second to notice with how intently he’d been staring at Scar, but then he remembered he didn’t care, and continued his Scar-gazing.

“Cub doesn’t have to leave the sun to watch the Earth, I never knew what kind of magic made that possible, but I thought this could be a solution for me, a break from the other moon, and a less anxiety inducing way to witness the life I’d worked so hard to be able to see. Cub was civil, I guess, when I first visited the sun. I’d never met him before, I didn’t know what to expect. I told him exactly how I was struggling and what I wanted, but he was always more concerned with the moons, that everything was okay on Mars, and the other moon was doing their job and not how the two of us were getting along. Mars was fine, the moons were fine, everything was fine, but when I told him that, he just stared at me and asked what the problem was. I told him! I had run him through it several times! I was sent back to Mars before I could even ask about his alternate Earth viewing station.”

“From there, everything was worse. When the other moon found out I’d gone to Cub, they were furious, my anxiety was debilitating, and I was desperate, I just needed an escape. When I tried to go back to the sun, explain what was happening, Cub was nothing short of foul. He extended no pity, no empathy, was frustrated with me for bothering him, for asking for something so stupid when I could just go to Earth with no issue, and I felt my position was threatened when his concern lied only in how well I could perform my guardianship of my moon. After spending decades working towards that position, I didn’t even last another month. I never got to enjoy the Earth, and only got berated for issues outside of my control.”

Scar nodded to his witness when they finished, turning his gaze to Cub. “Now, I would just like to know if the defendant has anything to say about this. It was a long time ago after all, maybe he’s changed his point of view.”

Cub rolled his eyes and made Mumbo tensed, kicking him under the table, which, everyone probably saw. Deny deny deny.

“I am the guardian of the Earth system. My first priority is ensuring every moon, planet, and star are being properly and competently cared for. I have no other obligations, especially for asinine requests. No life on Earth knows we exist, you don’t have to bother me every time you want to see it, you can just go, that’s so stupid-“

“My client has nothing else to say!” Mumbo cut in, but Scar looked pleased nonetheless. Luckily, Mumbo had a lot of reasonable smart things to say to the jury, so Cub didn’t have to, and even after a seemingly endless amount of mostly benign accounts from moons Cub barely remembered, Cub felt very little like he was on the back foot here. Maybe Scar’s goal was truly just to waste his time. He certainly kept throwing smug looks back after each of his exaggerated flourishes.

But in the end, Cub was just bored. There was nothing better than doing fuck all on his own sun, but it was cold and Cub couldn’t just space out because people kept talking at him and getting mad and telling him to stop staring at Scar, but Scar was the most interesting thing to look at in the room, and if Cub was going to be subjected to this much bullshit, he might as well rest his eyes.

And then all the fire in the courtroom flared with a loud fwoosh, then burnt away into nothing, embers floating to the ceiling and promptly dying, leaving the entire room in complete darkness.

Something clicked, and Cub was suddenly blinded, squinting at the bright light assaulting his vision. There was another spotlight across the room, centered on Scar. Cub threw Mumbo an alarmed look, but his lawyer looked just as surprised.

A dim light faded in over the judge’s stand, Bdubs’s imposing form illuminated in his raised position overlooking the court room.

“I’ve noticed..” the judge drawled his words, making sure he had the attention of every single star and moon in the courtroom. “Some tension abound.” Bdubs looked from Cub to Scar and back to Cub again, which was weird and annoying.

“You’re being weird and annoying.”

At the same time Mumbo elbowed him, Bdubs grinned, not without menace. “It’s not your turn to shine yet, Cub, so why don’t you simmer down before another strike is added to the board.”

Cub looked up, the ‘strikes’ above his head illuminating once more. He had four, three from talking out of turn and one from a brief scuffle between Mumbo and Scar, but both of them had gotten a strike for that, then got dropped into The Pit for a brief twenty minute recess. In Cub’s defense, Scar also had two additional strikes, it wasn’t like it was exactly hard to get them. If Cub’s side got five.. well, Cub didn’t know exactly what would happen, but he was a little bit afraid of Bdubs and didn’t particularly want to find out.

“Comment revoked.”

“Thank you.” Bdubs sat up a little straighter, pleased. “Now! Let’s play a game called Will They Won’t They!” Scar groaned, head hitting the desk, and Cub was almost certain he’d get a strike for that, but Bdubs was too intent on explaining his game.

“Now, unless I’m mistaken, and I’m never mistaken, it seems to me that kindled passion burns bright in one of our contestants tonight, and the other; heart burned and scorned so many times before, still shows interest despite it all..”

Scar sat up suddenly, flakes of frost flying from his hair, “Objection! Bdubs, will you stop trying to set me up with the criminals on the other side of the stand? I don’t know how to explain to you that this is possibly the worst place for me to find a partner, especially if that star is the asshole I dragged here in the first place!”

“Ah, yes, yes, young love.. You say you can’t stand them, yet you’re always bringing the same kinds of stars back to my courtroom, I see you, Scar, I see you.”

“I’m a criminal prosecutor!”

“Objection dismissed. It seems to me, Cub’s got the eye for you too. What say you, Cub?”

“I’m confused.” Cub looked to Mumbo, but Mumbo seemed nearly as resigned as Scar as did distressed. “I’m confused,” he said again, to Bdubs this time. The judge was no less radiant.

“He’s confused..” Bdubs spoke slyly, like this was some grand reveal, “Now, is he playing coy, or does he really not know..”

“Is this part of the trial?” Cub tried, strained. He didn’t like all this attention, he didn’t like standing out so much, it had been a long time since he’d been in a courtroom, but he didn’t remember this.

“Ogling was the word Mumbo used, and I think it suits your behavior over the course of this trial quite impeccably, don’t you think, Scar?”

“You know, I thought he was into me too for a very short couple of minutes, but I really think he’s just stupid.”

“What?” Cub bristled, caring very little for the way Mumbo tensed up. “I’m not- I’m not into you, where would anyone have gotten that impression?”

Bdubs knit his fingers, squinting at Cub with a great scrutiny. “If I thought this star had any capacity at all to play coy, I would be greatly suspicious right now. Maybe he is stupid. He just doesn’t know he’s in love with you.”

“That is not what I meant!” Scar hissed, while Cub just sat there, dumbfounded.

“Do no one else’s eyes hurt, like, all the time? My eyes were so tired I didn’t even know it until they got a break, I don’t even know why his insides are so black, but I refuse to believe that no one else here’s eyes aren’t constantly drawn to the dark.” There was some murmuring among the crowd, faint discussion that seemed to come to the conclusion of yes, Cub was the only person in the room who had this problem. Great.

“Irrelevant!” Bdubs declared, drawing the attention back to himself. “Now everyone in the stands, the jury, witnesses, everyone, please look under your seats where you will find three cards; they will! they won’t! they could! I am going to introduce the contestants, and on the count of three, the audience will decide their fate! Are you ready?”

The silence was deafening. One star in the back gave a small pity whoop.

“Great!” Bdubs clapped his hands together, having no qualms with the lack of enthusiasm from the crowd. “On the right we have the civil hero, actor for justice with a mysterious past rivaling the dark side of the moon, Scar!”

A few small, if not hesitant claps followed this up.

“On the left with have Cub, the infamous Earth sun, a light in the dark, but certainly not for most moons in his system, though, our hero seems to have caught his attention, and on a journey of love and acceptance, the two of them might just make each other more fulfilled celestials..”

Silence.

“What do ya say? Will they, or won’t they!?”

The dark walls of the courtroom suddenly ignited, flame greedily swallowing up the cold that had drafted in, its light revealing the opinion of the entire courtroom. ‘They won’t!’ Unanimously, except for Bdubs, who was holding a ’They could!’

“Great.” Scar seethed through gritted teeth, firmly setting his ‘They won’t!’ card face down on the desk, “Can we get on with it now.”

“Ah, yes, the sentencing!” Bdubs declared, and it was probably lucky for Cub that Bdubs couldn’t hear Mumbo’s WHAT over the sound of his own voice, or they might’ve gotten their fifth strike.

“I- Objection? Objection, your honor!” Mumbo gathered himself, though Bdubs looked less than interested, “The jury haven’t even decided whether or not Cub is innocent or guilty, how can we just move to the sentencing?”

“This is my court mister Mumbo, and in my court, anything goes! Anything I want that is. And I want the Earth system to be open!”

Cub’s heart dropped. What!?

“Cub, sun of the Earth system, for your crimes of negligence and unnecessary cruelty to the moons in your system, past and present, you will be sentenced to one Earth month of complete accommodation for any moon, star, or planet that wants see life on Earth.”

“I- I can’t do that, I literally can not do that.” Cub whipped around for any kind of support, but it seemed every single celestial in attendance was greatly excited by the idea of visiting a life system that had been so exclusive for so long. “Your honor, I have these strict entrance guidelines in place for a reason. Just because most life forms can’t see us, doesn’t mean we don’t exert energy- a lot of energy, heat especially- Cramming a trillion celestials in the Earth system would destroy it, and if you think that number is an exaggeration, you would be wrong. But even with smaller numbers- life is sensitive, I could not possibly sustain the kind of parade you are suggesting without massive consequences.”

Bdubs considered Cub thoughtfully, but hoping was a mistake, Bdubs’s eyes narrowing in keen interest. “This is true, I know. But you aren’t the only sun in charge of a life-system, and nearly all accommodate some kind of visitation. The number of celestials a life-system can accommodate without affecting the atmosphere isn’t anything to scoff at either, and many have already dug into the metrics of your own system, Cub, despite your continued insistence that it is more fragile than what is reality. I will have these numbers double and triple checked, then halve it, and that will be the final tourist population you will be accommodating. I can assure you, no life will be harmed. But I think you already knew that.”

Oh god. Oh god.

But Bdubs wasn’t finished.

“Additionally, I understand it’s been many, many years since your initial training, and that’s a lot to forget, truly it is. You seem to have forgotten how to act, and we can’t have anything but the best for your future visitors, yes? Your sun training aids will be reinstated, and I am personally appointing Scar to supervise. You will be delivered the dates personally, and be included in all planning meetings to ensure this goes smoothly.”

Cub felt his blood run cold. He wanted to speak, argue, but his voice seemed to have left him completely. This- This had to be some kind of prank or some- some- he didn’t know! He opened his mouth to try and negotiate- anything, he’d take it all, he’d take the whole universe in his system, but not the training aids. He couldn’t do that again.

No words left him.

Cub looked to his right, stunned. Scar was smiling.

[plaidos]

Just responding to your tags on that Squirrel Girl art; the bump in popularity from that game got me to binge read Unbeatable Squirrel Girl recently, and now she's probably my favorite Marvel hero. Really funny, and the meaningful attempts at rehabilitation she makes are genuinely believable and endearing. That being said, I'm kind of dreading the idea of this propelling her to mainstream enough popularity that they try to crowbar her in with non-joke characters in mainstream products, or god forbid the MCU.

WELL DON'T WORRY my dear asker because they've actually been doing that for years and it hasn't really taken. maybe it finally will this time? but she only got Unbeatable Squirrel Girl -- one of my favourite comics -- because she sorta had this cult following in the fandom to begin with; she's been a big in-joke in marvel for like decades at this point. in fact, her voice actor in Marvel Rivals? she was originally chosen to portray her live-action in the MCU (but the show was thankfully shelved. it sounded really bad, even as somebody who can put up with MCU stuff due to being a decades-long marvel comics head) but got brought back to voice act her in a bunch of non-MCU stuff since too (i guess they were impressed with her performance in this otherwise underwhelming sitcom)

i'd say either way, not worth worrying about -- this has basically already happened to Deadpool, and even though it's pretty annoying sometimes it's still mostly fine, and i don't think anybody will ever reach the level of "joke character who got so popular they're put in everything to its detriment" that Deadpool reached ever again. Doreen's just gonna be another Jeff imo.

[rowie264]

Councilors vs Chem-Barons

Remember that creators wanted to "show there is merits and flaws on both sides"? While I still feel that agenda in the first season, the second season is... well.

The easiest way to see that creators wanted you to be more sympathetic to Piltover is to look at the rulers of both cities. The Council is flawed but mostly fine, while Chem-Barons are purely bad.

You can protest that 'wait, but in s1 we saw that the Council is corrupted' and... i agree with that. But let's take a closer look at all members with information from both s1 and s2, hmm?

Torman Hoskel was portrayed as silly and easily manipulated person. He is the worst among them.

Salo makes the same appearance as Hoskel in s1. But in s2 he becomes disabled. This is the easiest way to manipulate you into sympathizing him. Of course, this wouldn't change your view of him completely, since his personality remained the same, but you can understand his anger (his suffering is shown on the screen). Besides, later when Viktor heals his legs, Salo changes, losing his arrogance and becoming a good person.

Irius Bolbok is strict, composed and slightly harsh ruler (remember him saying to find the culprit no matter what). But he isn't shown as bad as Hoskel and Salo in s1. He is quite decent.

Shoola was portrayed as reasanable ruler from very beginning. She was the first who said "They [zaunites] may not be your preferred consituents but they're still our people." She was the first after Mel who voted for Zaun's independance. In s2, we see how she cares about people rather than acting in the interests of revenge like Salo.

Cassandra Kiramman was also showed as good person even in s1. She might not be active Zaun's simpathizer but she did schedule an audience for Caitlyn and Vi giving them a chance to change Councilors opinion about Zaun (ofc it's bc Cait is her daughter but Cassandra could just deny her). Also in s2 we learn that she built a ventilation system which makes her the only Councilor (beside Jayce) who actually did something for Zaun.

Mel Medarda is shown as a woman who does things for her own benefit, manipulating others. But she still did vote for the independence of Zaun (albeit for personal reasons). You also can't say that she's a bad person or that she's done really bad things for her cause (like Silco for example).

Jayce is a bad politician and has made few mistakes, but at the end of the day, he is a good man.

Heimerdinger is portrayed as good person as well.

Even though we know that all of them are corrupt (except Heimer) and that they have ignored Zaun for decades, only one of them has no good traits and completely unlikable (Hoskel).

But what do we have with Chem-Barons?

Finn is an idiot and power-hungry.

Rennie is too. She lost her son, which to some extent makes you understand her attacks on memorial (not justify, just understand), but the show itself does not even focus on this fact, ignoring that little nuance.

Chross's goons force children to work in the mines. He also fights for Silco's chair to gain more power.

Smeech's business is connected to shimmer (i guess he provides it after Silco's death?). Only, unlike Silco, Smeech isn't shown as someone who uses shimmer simply as a tool to achieve a higher goal (nation of Zaun). He is just power-hungry like others. Also s2 shows that he doesn't value his own people.

Margot is unloyal as well. "I'd rather favor my chances with Topside". She fights for power like others.

Silco is the only one who commits bad deeds for a higher purpose. All he wants is an independent Zaun, not power itself. We see his positive traits such as dedication to his city, love for Jinx and others, which makes him the only really likable among other Chem-Barons.

Of course the government doesn't represent people themselves. We saw that there are good people in Zaun and there are bad people in Piltover. But you know what it does represent? Creators' true view of Piltover/Zaun conflict.

Despite everything Piltover was ready to grant Zaun independence. The Council was shown flawed but the characters themselves were not completely bad persons. You, as a viewer, can understand and sympathize them. Creators made sure you will sympathize them.

But Zaun? Bandits and criminals who don't think beyond their pockets. The only person who did and tried to do something good for Zaun was wrong, bc s2 promotes us "violence is not the answer" and "power of forgiveness" agenda.

So where are the "merits and flaws on both sides" again?

[im-just-a-simp-le-whore]

The Beginning Of The End - an Arcane fix it??

so. I just busted this out. its not edited at all. have no idea if I'll even continue it after i post this first chapter. had this idea floating around for while, since season 2 ended tbh. if Jayce and Viktor are ooc yall, pls bare with me I'm still very new to writing characters that aren't mine. (that's all I wrote previously)

for context, reader is an empath and whatever they feel is reflected on their hair via colors. the color/emotion used this chapter is anxiety=orange based on this image. if I continue this, the color wheel below will always be referred back to

also, i am open to constructive criticism!! if I've misspelled something pls pls pls tell me!! or if i could've worder something better or used a different word!!

SPOILERS FOR ARCANE SEASONS 1 AND 2 RIGHT OFF THE BAT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

ALSO TW: ANXIETY, SPIRALLING AND SKIN PICKING, MEDICATION AND ALCOHOL

An explosion

A white light 

Bright

Blinding

crashing

falling 

A decent that feels like eternity 

A buzzing

Ringing

Echoes of voices 

It's everywhere 

All around me

All at once 

A whirlwind of emotions

Blurs of colors 

Dizzying sights of people

And suddenly, I am awake

“(name), Dear? (name)?”

I feel a gloved hand shake my shoulder. I gasp as my eyes come back into focus onto Cassandra Kiramman. 

It feels as though I’ve fallen into my own body

“Mrs.Kiramman..? Wha-what? Where am… I? How did I..?” I whisper, confused, as i rub my temples with my right hand, my left swinging back to grab my pole staff only to realize 

Its not fucking there

Cassandra scoffs, and shakes her head, eyeing my left hand placement, She takes a sip of champagne and tutts

“My my dear, it seems you've had too much wine, hmm?” she asks, her tone almost playful. 

Looking around I see that I'm at hextech’s first celebration. 

This…. This isn't right! Mere minutes ago i was watching viktor and jayce get sucked into.. A vortex..? A portal? How am I back? 

Letting out a nervous giggle, and nod

“Ye-yeah! Must've been too much wine… on that note I'm gonna step outside, take a walk in the garden and sober up.” 

If Mrs.Kiramman notices my anxiety, she makes no comment and nods, walking away towards Shoola. 

Without waiting a second more, I made a swift move towards the garden. Blurting quick “Pardon me!’s” and “excuse me’s” along the way, narrowly avoiding people and their gaze. After what feels like forever, I make it to the garden doors, quickly shoving them open and running outside into the cold winter air of the night. 

A blanket of snow covers most of the garden, except for the stone path that weaves through it. Proof of the first snowfall in piltover, the cement is still too warm from autumn for the snow to remain. 

I briefly turn around to make sure no one has followed me, and from what i can tell, they haven't. With that, I turn back towards the garden and begin to quickly walk the path, following it deeper in, where I'll be obscured by trees and bushes that have yet to die.

Traversing further in, I come across a stone bench and sit down. Holding my face in my hands i sigh loudly into my palms

How the fuck did I end up almost an entire decade back in time! Why here of all places?? Did everything that happened before… Was it a strange dream??? A warning of what's to come?? 

Standing up, I begin pacing back in force in front of the bench, softly muttering “one, two, three, four… one, two, three, four” in repetition, a vain attempt to calm myself down. As I begin to pick at my left arm, glancing down I realize that the anomaly is gone, no longer is there a scar with a kaleidoscope of colored webs that make up parts of my skin. But instead in its place is the tattoo of words that were there before the anomaly. 

I sigh again, and look away from my arm, looking ahead at the trees infront of as i continue to pace 

No.. not a warning, nor a dream. But memories, my memories. They're too real, too… tangible. With far too many emotions attached to them for them to be oddly elaborate dreams. and If I think about them hard enough, I can still smell and taste them. Still physically feel the emotions tied to them.  

In my anxiety induced pacing I fail to hear two sets of footsteps. One quick, with heavy steps, another with softer, slower steps with the soft, in sync tap! tap! tap! Of a cane. 

Pacing faster, my breath comes out in short, ragged puffs. As the Anxiety consumed me whole. 

as the tips of my (h/c) hair begin to turn orange. Anxiety is starting to consume me. I begin roughly tugging at my hair, another failed attempt at self soothing. As my thoughts begin to spiral

How how how!? How the hell did I end up back here? Does that mean I have to lose them again? That I have to watch as they turn into people they would have never dreamt of becoming? I cant lose them again, i cant deal with the isolation again. The pain, the chasing, the begging, the crying. I cant. I cant i cant icant icant icant-

“(name)? Are you alright? We saw you fly out of the party like a bat out of hell after talking to Mrs.Kiramman. Did something happen?”

And for a split second, a flash. I see them as their future selves. Viktor in a purple robe with Long brown hair with blonde at the ends, a body made almost entirely of metal and magic. Swirls of black and purple, almost like the magic itself is breathing. 

Jayce, a mess of black hair that's gotten long enough to be in his eyes, a smaller, no, a skinnier body. Covered in dirt, grime, and maybe blood? A brace on his left leg, still dressed in his counselor attire. 

Blinking away those images, as I shake my head and let go of my hair. “Yeah, I'm.. I'm fine, just had a little too much to drink tonight. Or maybe, an interaction with my new meds. Anyones best guest at this point." I say with an awkward chuckle, trying to feign indifference as if I wasn't just seconds away from pulling my hair out in panic. 

Jayce and Viktor share a brief, confused glance.

They're not buying it. At all. 

Viktor nods with a small tilt of his head, and hums. 

“Fine is not tugging at our hair and pacing back and forth, both of which only happen when you are spiraling or about to spiral. So, let's try this again. What's wrong, little lasko?” 

Looking back and forth between the two men, I sigh for what feels like the upteenth time tonight, and opt to give a half truth. “I.. it's just.. These weird dreams I've been having. They just feel… a little too real. More so than usual, and it's just been a lot.. Been overwhelmed with having to present my research soon and starting a new medication on top of it all. Sorry for the worry.” 

I barely finish speaking, and Jayce wraps me up in a tight hug. I let out a breath of relief and relax into the hug, as Jayce says

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner? You know we’re here-” Viktor cuts in, 

“And you know better than to isolate and spiral. We’ve talked about this little lasko, you know it hurts you more in the long run to handle things this way. You should have said something when this started.” 

Jayce gently pulling back from the hug cuts back in,  “speaking of which, how long ago did this start?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, I stare blankly for a moment, swallowing the small lump in my throat, I softly say “A few weeks ago.. I think..?” out of the corner of my eye, I can see the tips become more orange, my anxiety showing itself more than it did previously 

As Viktor and Jayce begin to lecture me, we hear a twig snap a bit behind them. As they turn to locate the sound, I see it. A figure in a black cloak surrounded by mist. I feel a mixed bag of emotions, few of my own, mostly the strangers’ . Rage, resentment, fear, murderous, and ... excitement? 

I squint my eyes to getter look at him in the dark, as they begin to walk closer, I suddenly realize who it is, and come to terms with the fact that despite being almost a decade in the past, I've still yet to outrun him, and this is truly in fact, The Beginning Of The End,

[no1onepiecefan]

zoro’s isolation has always been such a huge point of interest for me, specifically how it inspired his dynamic with luffy and the strawhats.

we don’t know much about zoro’s history as far as strawhat pasts go. however, regardless of if he gets a 200 episode whole cake island arc or we learn nothing at all from this day on, the fact remains that kuina is the person in his life who had the largest impact on him. kuina is his brightest memory and for a long time, felt like maybe the only significant one he had.

zoro, before the strawhats, always felt eerily quiet to me.

luffy, in countless ways, is his saviour. he saved him from his captors, from bullets as he was tied to a cross. they both save each other as much as they breathe. but i think it’s as fundamental as luffy was probably the first person who ever outright looked for and wanted zoro’s company long term, at least in many years.

luffy wanted zoro, luffy saved zoro by giving him something as simple as an anchor, which is himself. he alleviated a decade long aimlessness. ironically, i don’t think it’s inaccurate to say that zoro was lost before the strawhats.

zoro’s protectiveness and devotion have always made such sad sense to me because i would protect the only thing in the world that is truly mine with teeth and claw too. the strawhats are everything to zoro, literally. his constant training to be strong, him laying down his head for luffy’s life, it all makes sense to begin with but it aches even more with the loneliness that encompasses his whole character.

what is zoro’s life without luffy? without the strawhats? it is probably as simple as that to him. he betrayed his lifestyle and became a pirate with the attitude of what the hell, sure, and finally, finally has something to protect, something to lose and not let go. zoro’s isolation is bone-deep, it is years long. i don’t know if anything could shake me from the person who saved me from that, and i would understand if he was the same.

[obsidianpen]

also can you believe it’s 2025 and you started bg in 2017. i think it’s just crazy to see that when i go read bg over and over again. like the passage of time. the life youve lived during that time etc.

it’s almost been a decade. how much does a persong change/grow in a decade?

i have to admit i wasn’t here from the beginning. in a sense i ’got lucky’ since i only discovered bg last february. and that’s when you started youre more fast paced updating. yet i kind of hope i would have gotten to read it from the beginning in 2017.

well anyway, it’s an amazing story! thank you for writing and spending your time (8 years!!!!!?????!!!) writing it for us to enjoy for FREE????!!!❤️

well the answer to your first question is A LOt. But. Should be noted - I didn’t ’spend 8 years’ writing blood and gold. That would be nuts. I’ve been writing it over the span of 8 years, which is different. Blood and gold was never a job or a gig or even my main fanfiction for most of that time if I’m being honest! There were times where I stopped working on it for months or years at a time, for various reasons. In that same 8 year span, I have:

written and finished 2 original works that are over 100k words (one of which I edited a lot and am actually proud of! The other eh it was a learning experience lol might rework it one day)

Written a bunch of other fanfiction nonsense, idek how much and of what

moved like…. God 5 times? 6? Currently in the middle of move 7? And most of those were across the freaking country

got my masters degree (that was a two year break)

got married

had a bebe

worked some of the most STRESSFUL and time consuming jobs of my LIFE

and that’s just some of it!

anyway Im sorry, I got heated over this because I’ve been sent screenshots (wish I could unsee some things I swear) of someone talking shit about me and how long my stories take me to write. If I didn’t have a life and if I was only ever focusing on just one story at a time, they wouldn’t. 🤷‍♀️