#and then history will repeat itself and the new becomes old and then time and time again we never break the cycle

[1-up-chump]

I'm gonna have to say, and not to be "that guy" but im not hopeful for the new game. Here's my predictions

Moral raiden will die for plot, liu kang will be big sad.

The great kung lao is gonna get screwed over in character in some way or form

Liu kang is gonna have a corruption arc, and either will the final boss (best case) or do some bs anime "no i am better than the past!" And then someone else is gonna be the big bad and its not gonna be shang tsung

Onga will be the big bad but in a stupid way (he's a titan or whatever the fuck unnecessary thing they "added" to the lore. He's shown to be the big baddie but is actually weak compared to his prev incarnations in the games)

Shao Kahn will be the big bad (dumb fan service)

Blaze will be the big bad (bc armageddon will come regardless how many times you try to make ur timeline peaceful, all must come to an end and continue the cycle of mortal kombat)

With how they essentially fucked over their whole divine system (killing the elder gods so cheaply and easily, nerfing raiden, making liu kang the only god, titans are useless additions) i doubt mortal kombat will ever be the same again BUT in a bad/lukewarm way

Im just not hopeful anymore that I'll get my kung fu death tournament again. All i get is a pale imitation of the mcu/dcu but with gore and thats it. And listen, if you like that? Good for you, but as a former fan of superhero stuff? No. I think mortal kombat died and got replaced with something else entirely

[miaoua3]

As Sweet As You

Pairing: scoups x f!reader

Genre: oneshot, fluff, comedy

Description: seungcheol takes his daily coffee intake very seriously. so when the company coffee shop temporarily closes, he faces a very big problem. or maybe, several bigger problems.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

so, here’s the thing. seungcheol knows how pathetic he must look like. jeonghan made sure to let him know every day since he has learned about this situation, always followed up by that stupid smirk of his.

a few weeks ago, their company cafe announced that it will undergo a big renovation due to bad conditions of the pipes, which meant seungcheol needed to find a new place to buy his daily coffee intake or else he probably wouldve killed somebody in cold blood.

hey, what can he say, he’s a little grumpy in the morning, thats why he always makes sure to have his morning coffee, otherwise he will make his bad mood everybody else’s problem.

on the day he walked down his usual route to the coffee shop and saw a paper with the info about the shop being temporarily closed glued to the glass window, he was sure he was going to punch somebody that day.

thinking about what he should do since going to jail wasn’t really his top choice of activities to do on that day, he decided to walk down the block to see if there’s another coffee shop.

as he was walking, he came across an alley. he could loosely remember walking past it many times, but he has never walked in the alley itself. for some reason, seungcheol felt like something inside of it was calling his name, like it was trying to show him something.

seungcheol, never the one to ignore his instincts, walked down the alley.

and right there, on the left side of the alley, stood a little cozy looking coffee shop, a coffee shop that would forever change his life.

with almost to no thinking, seungcheol walked in.

the inside of the shop looked like something straight out of a movie. fairy lights strung along the edge of the counter, as well as on one of the walls. dark furniture was decorated with dark green accents like pillows and vases on top of the tables. on the left side, the whole wall was just a big shelf filled with books.

seungcheol felt both the moody and mysterious side of this shop, as well as its cozy and comforting side.

as he was looking around, he noticed that there wasn’t anyone around. unsure if he maybe entered during its closed hours, he decided to call out for somebody. with an unsure voice, he uttered “um hello?”

surprisingly, beneath the counter came a sweet voice, “just a moment!”

and really, after a moment, somebody popped out beneath it.

and seungcheol felt his heart come to a stop for a brief moment.

there, behind the counter, appeared what must’ve been an angel.

and then you smiled gently at him.

and the rest was history.

well, not really.

ever since that day, seungcheol has been going to your shop to buy his morning coffee, in hopes that maybe that day your conversation would go beyond him saying his order and wishing you a good day.

but seungcheol must be 13 years old mentally, because he simply can’t talk to you beyond those two topics without blushing like a teenage boy.

never has he ever felt this stupid, it literally made him want to bang his head against the wall in hopes that the force of the banging will maybe split his single remaining braincell into two braincell.

every day, while he was getting ready for work, he would stand in front of his mirror and would repeat the same words like a mantra.

“today is the day. today you will talk to her. today you will pick up your balls from the floor and ask her if she would like to grab a dinner sometimes. today is the day.”

and every day he still wouldn’t do it, no matter how much he would repeat those words.

it has become his routine.

a routine that has been kind of broken today.

because today jeonghan wanted to come with him.

and seungcheol didn’t like that one bit. but trying to stop jeonghan from doing something he dead set his mind on is right behind the word “impossible”.

as they were walking, seungcheol tried to warn his best friend.

“i swear to god jeonghan, do not even thinking about trying something”, seungcheol repeated for the nth time since they’ve met in front of their company.

jeonghan, ever the good friend, rolled his eyes. “relax, i just want to see who got your panties in a twist so much. plus, i havent had a good coffee since our shop closed.”

jeonghan’s words did nothing to calm down seungcheol.

if he knew his best friend even a little bit, he was 101% sure that he was going to do something.

and seungcheol was dreading it.

soon, they walked into the alley and a few second later, into the coffee shop.

you were stood on a ladder on the left side, cleaning the book shelf when they walked in. upon hearing the door open, you turned your head and smiled.

cheol swore he felt his heart fall down to his feet and skyrocket out of his body all in the same second you smiled. and the worst thing-he felt his cheeks get warmer, which only meant one thing, that he was blushing.

“ah i see you brought a friend with you today.” you said as you stepped down the ladder, scanning jeonghan from head to toe.

“u-um well y-yes, or, well, uh, he, uh, invited himself”, seungcheol stuttered out like an idiot and immediately regretted ever waking up today.

you chuckled as you rounded up the counter and got behind, ready to serve your costumers.

jeonghan turned his head in a way you couldn’t see his expression, but cheol certainly did, although he wished he didn’t, because nothing was quite as annoying as seeing that smirk of his.

“wow, it really is as pretty as you said it was”, he says with a smirk, obviously not talking about the shop itself, and cheol feels like not even your tasty coffee will stop him from murdering his best friend.

you chuckle lightly, a hint of blush on your cheeks, and cheol feels his heart squeeze so much that he unconsciously places his hand on top of his chest.

“thank you. now, what may i get you two?”, you say.

the two men place in their orders, jeonghan going first.

as his drink was being finished, jeonghan turned towards cheol. “i’ll wait for you outside.”, he more-so informs him.

cheol, with furrowed eyebrows, just nods at his friend.

“so, here’s your incredibly sweet drink that you for some reason like.”, you joke as you push a cup towards jeonghan.

“thank you.”, he smiles kindly at you, taking his coffee, turning around to exit the shop.

but of course, it wouldn’t be jeonghan if he kept his mouth shut for once in his life.

in the last second, he turned around and asked you “oh has this idiot asked you out already? no? oh well.”, he smiled innocently as he exited the shop this time for real.

cheol felt both the blood from his face drain and the temperature of his cheeks jump exponentially high.

for a second, you both stay silent.

and then he starts word vomiting.

“w-well, what he meant by- by that is that- see, uh, you’re obviously very p-pretty and uh, well, its presumptuous of me to think that you are single but uh, truth be told, you got my attention on the very first day i came in here so uh, i was just- i mean you can feel free to say no but, uh, i-id really like to t-take you out to a dinner, that is if you’re single of course, if not then im really sorry-“

cheol was a little too busy to notice you leaning on the counter, your chin resting on your hand, gentle smile grazing your features.

to stop his adorable rambling, you put his coffee in front of him, still resting on the counter.

and it seems to do the trick, because he stops talking all together and just looks at the coffee.

“on the house.” , you inform him.

just as he was starting to feel the disappointment seep into his bones, you speak up again.

“or well, not really. i’d really like that dinner in return for this free coffee.”, you smile blush-fully.

and so does he.

usually, he’d think of this as the end of the story, but in this case, it was just the beginning.

[camille-lachenille]

I was thinking about how, in fanfictions and in the fandom in general, Elrond is often depicted as a pure Noldorin lord, if not a die hard Fëanorian. And while I do enjoy Fëanorian!Elrond, the more I think about it the more I am convinced Elrond is not the fëanorian one of the twins. Elros is. Elros who adopted seven eight pointed stars as the heraldic device of his whole dynasty, a symbol still used 6000 years after his death. Elros who had Quenya be the official language of Númenor. Elros who decided to leave Arda for an unknown fate after his death; not Everlasting Darkness but not the rebirth in the bliss of Valinor either. He choose to go to a place Elves aren’t supposed to go, just like Fëanor and his sons went back to Beleriand. Elros, the mortal man, who decided to forge his own path in the world.

And I am not saying Elrond didn’t, because Eru knows how much strength, patience and stubbornness Elrond must have to become who he is in LotR. But when I first re-read LotR after reading the Silm, he did not strike me as Fëanorian at all (except for the no oath swearing rule that seems to apply in Rvendell). In fact, Elrond, and all three of his children, are defined by being half-Elven. Elrond is so much at the same time they had to creat a whole new category for him. He is described as kind as summer in The Hobbit, but also old and wise, and his friendly banter with Bilbo in FotR show he is also merry and full of humour. Elrond is both Elf and Man despite his immortality, and this is made quite clear in the text.

But. If I had to link him to an Elven clan, I’d say Elrond is more Sinda than Noldor, and even that is up to debate. Rivendell, this enchanting valley hidden from evil thanks to his power, is like a kinder version of Doriath. Yet, the name of Last Homely House and Elrond’s boundless hospitality make me think of Sirion: Rivendell is a place where lost souls can find s home, where multiple cultures live along each other in friendship and peace.

In FotR, Elrond introduces himself as the son of Eärendil and Elwing, claiming both his lineages instead of giving only his father’s name as is tradition amongst the Elves. It may be a political move, or it may be a genuine wish to claim his duality, his otherness, or even both at the same time. But from what is shown of Elrond in LotR, he seems to lean heavily in the symbols and heritage from the Sindar side of his family, rather than the Noldor one. I already gave the comparison with Doriath, but it seems history repeats itself as Arwen, said to be Lúthien reborn, chooses a mortal life. Yet Elrond doesn’t make the same mistake as Thingol by locking his daughter in a tower and sending her suitor to a deathly quest. Yes, he asks Aragorn to first reclaim the throne of Gondor before marrying Arwen, but this isn’t a whim on his part or an impossible challenge. Aragorn becoming king means that Middle-Earth is free from the shadow if Sauron and Arwen will live in peace and happiness. Which sounds like a reasonable wish for a parent to me.

Anyways, I went on a tangent, what strikes me with Elrond is his multiple identity. Elrond certainly has habits or traits coming from his upbringing amongst the Fëanorians, and he loved Maglor despite everything. The fact he is a skilled Minstrel shows he did learn and cultivate skills taught by a Fëanorion, that he is not rejecting them. There is a passage at the end of RotK, in the Grey Havens chapter, where Elrond is described carrying a silver harp. Is this a last relic from Maglor? Possible.

But while Elros choose the path of mortality and showed clear Noldorin influences in the kingdom he built, Elrond is happy in his undefined zone he lives in. He is an Elf, he is a Man, he is Sinda and Noldo and heir to half a dozen lost cultures and two crowns. He is the warrior and the healer, the only one of his kind in Middle-Earth. And that is why I will never tire of this character and I love so much fanworks depicting him as nuanced and multiple yet always recognisable as Elrond.

[tcustodisart]

Please tell us more about protective papa Connie…

I'm going to start with the drawing and continue rambling under the cut because there's going to be a lot of info dumping.

I've mentioned a few times before that I have this idea that Shar still very much has a grudge against them and because history likes to repeat itself she inspires yet another head of the church to kidnap a child, in this case Emmie. And here are two routes I'm considering

1a) Emmie gets kidnapped successfully and the parents are now on a quest to find her and kill whoever stands behind all ot this.

1b) Emmie gets kidnapped but manages to escape on her own and gets lost. Very similar to what happens to Ciri in the Witcher books. The parents are unaware of the fact she escaped and are doing the same thing they'd do in scenario 1a.

2) Emmie doesn't get kidnapped, but because there's still a threat of that happening again, the parents are leaving her with Aylin and Isobel and going on a quest to hunt down whoever's behind this.

In scenario 1a and 1b Connie would become very cold and a bit ruthless.

In every scenario I imagine some old friends and maybe new ones would join Connie and Shadowheart on their quest.

[zzencat]

How To Energetically Get The Most Out Of Your School/Work Life - ⏳

Since we’re getting into the groove of things…let’s gaur!!!! For entertainment purposes.

From left to right. Breathe and choose the one(s) you can't keep your eyes off of.

TO ENHANCE ACCURACY BEFORE CHOOSING: Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out.

Pile 1 | boomer mentality?

• change your ways. Bad habits, weak ways of thinking- sure, it’s uncomfortable. Growth is uncomfortable. Success is uncomfortable (I’m pretty sure someone super famous said that once maybe someone should remind me- 🤔) . You’ll find that if you look at things from a new perspective, a new angle, it’ll be beneficial for you in the long run. Just like looking at stress in a good way- there are studies on it that show that if you look at stress in a more positive way and use it to your advantage, you could really stretch out your life and live longer than those who were pessimistic about it (lol fun fact for you)

if you let go of the old, your luck will change. embrace these new changes, beliefs, environments, and people.

don’t keep your time and resources to yourself. allow for self reflection and transformations to happen!

big focus: don’t let history repeat itself. it’s time for a change! let go and let in.

—————————

Pile 2 | feeling stuck or stagnant

• pile 2, you tend to overthink everything. You let your mind run its course. That ain’t good news. It prevents you from reaching new heights- prevents you from even starting on something, just because of fear or even roots of perfectionism. There’s a huge lack of motivation, confidence, and trust in yourself- so much that even when I was pulling your cards they were hesitant to come out. it feels like russian roulette but it’s firing on its own. some people here might tend to overreact/throw a tantrum as well or be immature in situations that need sensibility (in this case, ya gotta take this time to mature.)

• I feel this group has trouble with balance in general. Nothing wrong with that on occasion but if that’s your default setting and you’re stuck in your mind all day, wondering about this and that—just a crazy clash of thoughts and ideas—ruminating and running around in a vicious cycle full of mental bullshit then it’s gonna stop you. It’s gonna stop you from growth, from achieving things, from getting started, from living life normally. That’s the bare minimum, isn’t it? All we gotta do is breathe and when life makes it hard, the brain works harder. The mind is truly the most dangerous thing and you have to embrace it, marinate in it, and pick at it. find out where the balance is between intuition, logic, and emotion.

you might feel restricted and the need to break free, but what you also need is a breather to calm down and assess yourself before making decisions. rmr, deep breaths.

•Do your own research, form your own opinions, figure out who you are, how you operate, and what you want in life. That’s how you begin to build character. That’s how you can move forward, even if it’s little by little. (A more stable foundation comes outta that too.)

big focus: practice self control. when they say “lead with your head,” they really mean the control center of logic, intuition, and emotion…but who’s doing more of the controlling here, you or your mind?

——————————

Pile 3 | “how could I miss that?”

• What you need to focus on is slowing down. it’s easy to miss things when we’re busy or taking on a lot of responsibilities. give yourself some love and care—tend to those inner callings. It’s good for your mental health as well. Remember: mental becomes physical.

• put yourself first for once. Connect with yourself and loved ones- go on one of them self dates- Yessir those exist 😳

• pile 3, you are easily the most efficient and speedy group- cards were legit being shuffled like they were being handled like a pro- but you know the con of that? You miss all the moments you could’ve had with friends, lovers, family. Yourself. You get to miss all the details because things are going too fast pow pow pow one after the other until it piles up and then you end up beating yourself up for small and simple mistakes…calm down and adjust yourself. You will be okay.

• I’m telling you fam- TAKE BREAKS. Give yourself moments to relax and rejuvenate before you push yourself!! You put too much pressure on yourself as it is

• connect with your inner feminine energy when you have the time—you gotta MAKE that time for yourself

• don’t be so neglectful in your relationships btw! Romantic, platonic, familial, wtv- learn how to manage your time so that you can separate work and assignments with social relations. Keep that communication up!! This includes your inner and outer voice. Reflect and acknowledge how you feel.

big focus: be more open minded to making new connections! spend more time with others. you’ll find emotional happiness and fulfillment in it :)

————————————

Ending Teddy note:

Hello hollywood people 😎 it has been a long minute! thank you for taking the time to read through this—YOU ARE AWESOME!!! Always remember to take what resonates and leave what doesn’t! I’ll cya fam ciao :)

[igotanidea]

Smooth criminal: AK!Jason x reader

part 1 : Somebody's watching me

part 2: Run baby, run

Yeah... I know it's been a while. Sorry guys. But here we are :)

***

They say that history repeats itself. That’s its merely a one big circle in which people get lost endlessly, not learning from the past mistakes, instead doing them all over again.

Like an Uroboros, forevermore biting his tail.

And that was how Y/N felt at the moment, shaking over the cup of tea Dick so generously offered her alongside with his hoodie. And even more kindly – not asking any questions of why she showed up at his apartment (or rather under it) in the middle of the night looking crazy.

She was back at the beginning. Back over Jason’s grave, sobbing and shaking while the memories of the news of him being gone forever haunted her mind.

Felt like all her efforts to forget and move on have come to nothing.

“Y/N…”

“No. No please I don’t want to talk Dick-“

“I was just gonna say you can stay here for as long as you like. I don’t know what got you so freaked out, but the Y/N I know – knew­ – was not the one to get scared over a spider or a mouse. So it must have been serious. Stay.” He grabbed and squeezed her hands reassuringly. “I’m serious.”

“No, no it’s too much to ask for—”

“Good thing you did not ask then.” Dick grinned “Cause I believe I offered It myself.”

“You really didn’t change a bit, Grayson. Same golden, sunshine boy.”

“And you’re still the same, not holding back girl. Woman. How long has it been exactly?”

“Two years.” She sighed

“Two years.” Dick sighed too, his eyes becoming a little blurry from the memories. “I missed you, you know. And not only me. So did Tim and Alfred and Damian and I’m sure even Bruce became a little more grumpy without your presence to challenge him.”

“He’s got enough criminals to keep him entertained I believe?”

“Oh, Y/N, criminals he can handle easily, they are no fun. But having a woman with a sharp mind? That’s something Bruce still needs a lot of training in.”

***

 It was shockingly easy to reconnect with Dick.

Or maybe not, given the fact he was always awfully friendly, keeping in touch even with his exes and even having considerably good relations with some villains.

Long story short, in a months’ time she was regularly back in his life and he was back in hers. And much to her surprise, this time it was not a constant reminder of the person she lost, neither filling the void, but rather a soft recollection that she was not the only one who felt the repercussions of Jason being gone.

If anything, after that time apart, it felt like Y/N and Dick’s relationship could finally move past the tragic events and bloom. Not in a romantic sense, because he had Barbara and was making plans in that area, but like a true, deep friendship, cemented with similar feelings.

And she even got the guts to meet with the rest of the batfamily, ditching those girls who left her alone at the party. Slowly, but steadily, she was getting back to her old, familiar self, dropping the act of a girl who wanted to be anything but the version she was when Jason was alive and with her.  She was not running from the past anymore, but rather embracing and accepting it. And that was the real healing.

Only that Jason was not gone.

Observing her carefully from the shadows, watching almost every step, be it himself or using his militia. With explicit orders given to not let her know they were there. He had bigger plans coming, and making the same mistake as before, by coming as close as to touch her, could never happen again. Even if somewhere deep inside, the very subdued part of him screamed for that. For the warmth he remembered and knew would come with tenderness and not pain.

She never gave him anything less but love and devotion.

If anything Jason was only cursing himself that he let her step into the Batman world again. That is was his reckless behavior that drove her back into the arms of people, who were nothing but bad news. Who would eventually end up hurting her too.

And he was going to protect his little, innocent princess from that.

So yes, he was watching.

Sending his goons when he knew she was walking back home from work late, to ensure no one would lay a finger on her.

Causing a commotion in the area that happened to be dangerous only so she would choose another way.

Sending her colleagues threat letters so they would drop the chase for the same promotion at work as her.

Beating up a guy who was trying to flirt with her when she was buying coffee-to-go at her favorite place.

Doing it all smoothly, like a professional he was.

Building up a way to execute his master plan that would keep her safe from any danger, real or hypothetical. Forever.

***

“She got home, boss. Safe and sound, not one hair out of place.” One of his militia officers reported to him

“Good.” Jason only grunted in response. One whole month and he was so close to the finale. The end was right in front of him and he had to hold himself back to not make a single rookie mistake that would derail his efforts.

“If I may, sir, why exactly are we wasting resources on some woman? She’s no one important, just a regular—”

“What did you say?”

If the sinister voice wasn’t enough to make the man stop his sentence, the iron grip on his throat did.

“I- I-“

“No one important? Huh? Was that what you said?” Jason mocked tightening fingers on the man's jugular. “Answer me!”

“I- I-“ he was struggling for air.

“Pathetic!” Jason threw him on the ground, retrieving the gun from his holster, pointing it at the man’s head.

“Please, don’t—”

“I should put a bullet in your head for talking about her like that and second one for questioning my plans.” The gun outlet was now pressing into the man’s temple. “You are doing what I tell you, you hear me? No questions. No doubts. You are here to serve me, unless-“ Jason put a little bit of pressure on the trigger.

“No! No please!”

“You’re a piece of shit.” Arkham Knight muttered, taking the gun away. “But I am feeling merciful today. We can’t have blood on the floor when Y/N arrives. Now go! Get out of my face before I change my mind! And you make sure everything is perfect because if not—” he  caressed the arms with a cruel glint in his eyes, enjoying the way his officer rushed out of the room, throwing commands left and right, halfway out the door.

“Soon, baby… Soon we’ll be back together…” Jason muttered to himself once he was finally alone.

He was so close to having everything he needed.

@vaniasagitaa @gone-batty-fics @astrelz @not-herexo @deans-spinster-witch @calicocat45 @princessbl0ss0m @rosieandthethorns @beingaturtlespiritually @grierpilots @killerwendigo @teenytinytunes

[blaithnne]

By popular demand, here are the humanised Ducktales characters I teased several weeks ago — it’s April, May, and June!

May and June do take design and personality inspiration from their canon equivalents, but these three are not the same characters. They have nothing to do with FOWL, and are Daisy’s almost adult nieces! They’ve been under her care since they were very young, and she’s always been more of a mother than an aunt to them. 

April — The eldest triplet, April is athletic, energetic, and a massive tomboy. She cares deeply for her Aunt and sisters, and wants to help them in every way she can! She hopes to become a professional footballer, and use the money to support her family - she likes the idea of being their provider. She and her siblings have just graduated high school, and once the summers over she starts work as a coach at her old school. She might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but she has a big heart, and next year, she’s off to college on a sports scholarship. 

May — Organised, strict, and always a little bit stressed, May is by far the most suspicious of the new guy her beloved Auntie is dating. She handles most of the family finances and keeps them on track, and sees it as her duty to keep them safe. She doesn’t trust Donald with a five foot pole, believing him an incompetent manchild who’ll just drag Daisy down to take care of him instead of focusing on her dream job. Deep down, May harbours a deep seated guilt for the sacrifices her Aunt made for her and her sisters. In her mind, being sacked with three young girls kept Daisy from accomplishing her real dreams, and now that she’s older, May is determined to give her Aunt everything she rightfully deserves. Seeing Donald and his three young children, May is convinced history will repeat itself, and she’ hate to let that happen – not when Daisy deserves so much more! Unbeknownst to her, Daisy adores her nieces more than anything in the world, and thinks them coming into her life is the best thing that ever happened to her. Sacrifices or not, Daisy wouldn’t trade her girls for the world. If only May would stop worrying and realise that. 

June — Though she might seem scary at a glance, June is actually the biggest sweetheart you’ll ever meet. Soft spoken and shy, June has a strong moral compass and a burning hatred for any and all injustice. She uses punk and emo fashions not only as a shield to make herself look intimidating, but because of the historical ties to rebellion and anti-conservative ideals. She spends most of her time organising and attending human rights rallies, and campaigning to help those in need. She might struggle to speak to the mailman, but she never feels more confident than when she’s marching with her peers in support of the greater good. But the one thing she cares about most of all is her family, and she dedicates a good portion of her efforts to her local community, in hopes of making things easier and more fair for them all. 

[violenteconomics]

Your first year oneshots are so big-brained I love reading them all :)) What would the first year gang do if they found out Yuu had found a way home but because of timing issues, they didn't get to say goodbye? (Other brainrot idea which could be with this idea or seperate, Yuu Hometown event where the First Year gang get to visit Yuu's world for a couple of days 👀)

anything 4 u, baby.

the idea of what the first-years will do after yuu goes home is already sad, but you dare bring up the possibility that yuu won't get to say goodbye??? how could you /affectionate

like, i sort of imagine this to be a "seven years later" scenario, where all of the first-years have drifted apart without yuu's grounding presence. they were the ones who brought them all together, after all, and now they're just... gone. (inspired, i admit, by this AMAZING first-years fanfic right here!)

the freshmen have all done their best to move on with their lives — ace has joined riddle's popular legal firm as his suave and smooth-talking legal partner; epel is at harveston, working on an potion that's going to revolutionize farming forever; jack is a rising star in the world of winter sports; deuce is working hard as a respected member of the royal guard; ortho has founded a popular video game studio that specializes in rpgs; and sebek has begun a humble little life as the owner of bookstore, too burned by the best friendship of his life ending in such an abrupt manner to even think about returning to how life used to be.

but the stories of their once legendary friendship continues to spread through the halls of night raven college, even though it's been a while since they've graduated. nobody really knows their names, but they do know them.

the intelligent heart. the good-natured spade. the honorable wolf. the persevering apple. the optimistic flame. the loyal knight. and of course, the underestimated companion.

they've become legends, almost like the the great seven of old, for their ability to withstand so much, yet come out stronger all the same.

(until they day they just... disappeared from public view altogether.)

and so, everyone notices when history starts to repeat itself.

at this point, jack has taken a mentee under his tail — a young teen named magne beihof (twisted from sven from "frozen (2013)"). one day, magne comes running up to him, excitedly holding an invitation to night raven college. jack congratulates him, but secretly, he can't help the feeling of dread crawling up his back... and he's not even sure why. maybe because sven's too nice for nrc, but he's strong enough that jack's not too worried about that. he takes him out for carrot soup to celebrate, but the trepidation never goes way.

it comes to him when magne leaves for school, and starts writing to him about how weird his orientation was... about a random girl who just showed up, claiming to be from another world... about a nice person he met from ignihyde... until magne's eventually going on and on about how nice his new friends are and how much fun they're having and how stressed his housewarden has been lately...

and jack panics.

he furiously starts looking up the mailing addresses of the others and writing to them. he doesn't if they'll answer or even read it, but he just has to tell someone before the worst can occur.

to his surprise, they all end up responding, agreeing to meet with him at his house to discuss it further. turns out, this pattern of history repeating itself goes even further than just story beats. ace and ortho's interns, one of deuce's junior knights, one of epel's baby cousins, and the kid who comes by sebek's bookstore every saturday are all freshmen at night raven college... and all of them are part of sven's little friend group.

on a whim, jack writes yuu a letter, too, that simply says:

Yuu,

I'm worried.

Jack

he obviously doesn't expect a response, so he leaves the letter on the top of his bookshelf, expecting it to just collect dust. so imagine his surprise when it goes missing, and suddenly there's a letter on his bed, with a stamp on it from a place he doesn't recognize.

he reads it, and it says:

Jack,

I can't find my little sister.

Is she with you?

Yuu.

and jack's world comes crashing down.

///

(or, to make this less ominous, maybe the new freshmen plot never happens, and jack just decides to write letters to yuu who somehow recieves them. this eventually spirals into the freshmen making a large package and stuffing themselves inside to test a theory, only for yuu to open the lid and find their long-lost friends inside.

cue a fluffy reunion, and a nice yuu hometown event :3)

[a-d-nox]

pluto in aquarius: a prediction of what's to come

this is a huge astrological event, pluto is moving into aquarius for the first time since the late 1700s. last time pluto was in aquarius america fought for independence from britain, uranus was discovered, the french revolution began, the bill of rights was ratified, etc.

so for day one, i want to create predictions of what is to come!

some house matters!!!

TWO PLUTO RETROGRADES WILL OCCUR - june 11th - jan 20th, 2024 is the first so we won't see too much wildness just yet as pluto will return into capricorn during this time and THE FINAL RETROGRADE BACK INTO CAPRICORN will be september 1st, 2024 - november 19th, 2024. then we are full steam ahead with pluto in aquarius until march 9th, 2043.

i personally am NOT a witch or anything wild, everything i am saying is purely theoretical - it is not fated to happen just because i am saying it. i am simply socially aware. i know what's up generally in the world today and what was up in world in the 1700s - "history typically repeats itself."

i live in the usa so my post likely will be slightly more focused there examples wise so i apologize in advance! feel free to comment, dm, or reblog with other examples from your country based on my prediction key phrases.

i am going to start light and get darker so mentally prepare yourself for that (tw: STI/STD outbreaks, war, 9/11, COVID-19, and other abrasive topics that may make people uncomfortable depending on where they are currently reading from) - but we are talking about pluto so... expect the unexpected?!

let's do this.

renewable energy sources

aquarius is electricity, light, inventions, electronics, telephones, televisions, etc while pluto can be change! i recently bought a new tv and the back of the remote has a solar panel instead of a battery pack. i do believe we will see more evolution with technology; perhaps we will see solar changed phones! otherwise pluto is also pollution and natural disasters - the climate is in crisis mode perhaps we will see more responsibility and thus changes in our sourcing of energy! example: recently i read that japan has a great source of geothermal energy. currently the conversion to using this source (instead of coal, gas, and nuclear energy) is being held up by a higher up in the hot spring business who claims switching to a new energy system "threatens centuries-old traditions" (bang - a capricorn term - tradition - so perhaps after the retrogrades are through we will see a major shift in energy sourcing).

general technological advancements/inventions

last time pluto was in aquarius the cotton gin was invented; which aided in quicker production of goods and higher demand for american cotton. i strongly believe this is a general indicator that AI is going to become an even bigger part of day to day life. i have seen AI already replace those who take orders in the panera drive thru, there is a higher demand for philosophy/english grads to help teach AI, etc. aquarius is also new teachers/occupations so AI could become the new teachers OR new careers could be coming in the area of interacting with AI generally so it gains more consciousness. so it could be AI or it could be something else that is only just a dream in the back of someone's mind at this moment in time.

altruistic extremists

we may see utopian dreamers rise up! they are likely to advocate for the deconstruction of pre-existing political institutions in favor of either self governance or egalitarian policies. they will likely do whatever it takes to make this statement; we may see more protests / political statements similar to wynn bruce's.

fanatical/extremist announcers radio/tv

we already have biased stations and channels (fox, abc, cnn, nbc, etc). we are likely to see a further rise in politically biased newscasters and announcers.

demonization of astrology

astrology is aquarian in nature but pluto is fanatics, evil, demonics, etc. the community has been saying about the next world war for a while now. we are moving out of conservative pluto in capricorn, so we may find that those of deep belief systems accusing us [astrologers] of conspiring with the devil if/when something militant arises (similar to how the tarot community gets told constantly by christians that they must be satanists).

something with birds

i don't have this nailed down yet specifically, but both aquarius and pluto are rulers of birds. aquarius is large birds while pluto is wading/swamp birds and/or flesh eating birds. no one freak out and start thinking that i am indicating something like the 1963 horror film the birds. if anything i can see more bird-spread illness and/or parasites. OR pluto can be archaeology! there may be a bird related discovery or something to do with the distant relative of the bird - aka the raptor (dinosaur related).

a new STI/STD discovery/outbreak

aquarius represents the distribution of bodily fluids while pluto is often representative of sexual activity. this could either be an outbreak because pluto can be death, extremes, catastrophes, and/or casualties OR pluto can be ph balance in the body (possible new discoveries for feminine sexual health), kidneys (perhaps a discovery will be linked to the diminished functionality associated with syphilis, hiv, etc and how to combat more symptomatic issues), and even purification (aka a cure perhaps to help viral carriers to no longer pass the sti/std to sexual partners).

collapse of congress / house of commons/representatives

i mean it only stands to reason that the bill of rights was created/approved last time pluto was in aquarius that either those rights will disappear (pluto also represents dictators) OR simply the people rise up and demolish the institution as it stands: "...whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government..."

airplane catastrophes

aquarius rules over planes and pluto can represent accomplices, catastrophes, casualties, b0mbs, and t3rr0r!sm. we may experience another event similar to 9/11 OR we may see air strikes in a potential world war 3 scenario.

societal change: crime, war, leadership, and more

world war 3 is on the horizon so say pluto in aquarius (probably in the wake of election year in the US - when the final retrograde into capricorn concludes). but this could also just be governmental restructuring - this could be seen as rebellions (similar to the French Revolution), the rise of organized crime if good become more scarce, religious shifts (pluto is the antichrist, aquarius is freewill (first amendment), and capricorn is the old church (christian schools of thought)), etc.

aquarian terms i can't think of change in but seem important to note / keep in mind: freethinkers, hamburg germany, heart weakness (biden - perhaps the early death of a president in office?), motion picture (already changing as more theaters close), photography, psychology (we are already starting to care more about everyone's mental health), science (general scientific discoveries?), social affairs (there is always something going on - the question is how big will this be?), society, sweden, syria, and xray.

plutonian terms i can't think of change in but seem important to note / keep in mind: abductions (aliens - ufo sights?), aliases, alibis (governmental riffing similar to how no plan was in place when for COVID-19), assass!nat!0n (hopefully not), betrayal, bootlegging (bootleg tiktok if america bans it?), cemeteries (removal of that method if too many are dying at any giving time - mass graves?), convicts (prison release due to overcrowding? the mega-prison of el salvador?), corruption (governmental likely?), demolitions, earthquakes (more environmental issues?), electrocution, executions (war?), fanatic, extremes, floods (environmental? emigration - society is aquarius after all?), liars, massacres (the rise of crime?), murder, nihilism (the rise of philosophy at the time of war?), ransom (war?), satire (rise of political satire?), stolen goods, and taxes (trump-esque no?).

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[obriengf]

Empatheia ✽ Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: The trio investigate the meaning behind Scott’s dream, while Y/N searches for her own answers from Derek Hale.  Words: 9.8k Warnings: swearing, awkwardness, not proof read ✽  Series masterlist  ✽  

Chapter Three: 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 /Part 1

Exhausted was beyond an understatement when it came to the way you were curled up against the pillows of your bed; textbooks were found discarded by your feet and the soft glow of your bedside lamp created a gentle yellow haze over your face. You were lacking peacefulness in your slumber, as seen in the way your heavy eyes clung with scrunched edges and your pursed lips that quivered every so often in time with a disrupting element of your dream. Your new life didn’t account for worriless sleep and easy days, neither did it give room for you to take a deep breath and embrace somewhat of an eventless few hours. No, your life was now branded by a thick fog and clouded by shadows, everything of which you knew was now questionable, and the people that you once assumed had since been altered by new elements and revelations. This life was difficult and sceptical, and maybe that’s why you just simply couldn’t get enough. Valerie was more observant that you were giving her credit for - always watching, always paying attention to how you’ve changed so dramatically over the past couple of weeks. She took notice in your new company and how conversations were now hushed when she was near, even how you took more frequent journeys in the neighbour’s old blue Jeep rather than her car when it was offered to you instead. She saw the more prevalent darkened circles that tore down your eyes more and more each day, and how your face refused to settle when you managed to sleep. But what she especially discerned the most, was the way you flinched at any present emotion that was, at first, not of your own. She couldn’t quite tear her gaze away as it settled with discomfort over your sleeping stature – reminded of the nightmares that would plague your dreams and how they twisted their way into a scar that she hoped you would never have to bear. History repeating itself, she thought.

The only sound that could be heard between the walls of your house was the gentle creak of a door closing behind an anxious Aunt. She wandered with soft steps downstairs, hiding herself in the furthest corner of the kitchen. You were out like a light, but she couldn’t risk being overheard as she flicked through her phone, selecting a contact that she hoped she wouldn’t need to call upon. Valerie took a deep breath as it rang through, repeated tones sounding against her ear that built uneasiness with every loop.

“Hello?”  The voice was rough, raspy as if interrupted from a sleep stage. Valerie nearly felt bad for calling at such an hour, until she remembered the reason.

She drew a deep breath, eyes closing momentarily as her head lent back against the fridge door, “You told me to call you when it was happening again.”

“Who-? Valerie?” A sigh was released in reply, shuffling through the receiver following next. The voice stilled for a second or two before it returned, “I’m guessing you’ve noticed it too.”

“Noticed it? It’s hard not to notice! It’s starting to control her life!” Worry got the better of her as your Aunt snapped, mentally cursing at herself at the volume she didn’t intended on amplifying.

“- Val, calm down.” She didn’t how the other voice remained so steady, but it prompted her to draw a deep breath and lull her head back once more. The voice was losing its roughness; becoming more alert, more awake, “We’ll figure it out, we’ll help her… she won’t reach the same fate, I promise.”

“Is that a promise you really can keep, Derek? From what I know, she’s just like her mother, and you know damn well more than anyone else how that played out…”  Valerie was growing protective – more so than usual. It didn’t help in the slightest that you are the spitting image of your mother, and every time your Aunt closed her eyes, all that she can picture is you in that hospital stretcher instead, covered in blood and grasping at the thin thread of life that happened to slip through your mother’s fingers. Destiny had a funny way of making things happen, but she would sell her soul if it meant that you didn’t have to end on that same fate.

Derek sighed once more, agitated at his inability to guarantee safety and happiness. That’s all he wanted for you, but the chance was growing slimmer by the second. “I’ll look again, alright? My mom’s journal has to be here somewhere.” The man glanced around the charred remains of his family home, flickers of candlelight creating shadows among the dilapidated structure, “She would’ve hidden it, the fire… it would have been safe from the flames. That’s something I can promise.”

“Just look out for her, please, Derek.”

He wouldn’t find that difficult – you were nearly glued to Scott McCall’s hip now and that young wolf was tying with you for first place on his list of things to stress about most. Kill two birds with one stone. Derek chuckled lightly, “Won’t be an issue.”

You would hardly deem yourself as ready when you heard three loud rasps of knuckles against the wood of your front door. Slightly charred toast half hung from your filled mouth, hands busily working to tie the laces of your sneakers, and you were glad that you weren’t hardly uncoordinated enough that you couldn’t multitask. Valerie snorted in amusement as she watched you; the same expression she wore when you were bumbling down the stairs not even twenty minutes ago, cursing about how you nearly missed your alarm. Not that she could blame you, really – your Aunt heard the softened whines from the nightmare you were having last night, but knew better than to wake you. Some things just need to be sought through instead of interrupted.

The knocks were heard again, and it made you groan, peering to your Aunt as she coddled the coffee mug against her smiling lips. Your eyebrows rose, voice muffled, “Drrr.”

“What was that?” She questioned, fake obliviousness in her tone.

“Drrr. Kh new get uh drrr?”

She nodded as she snickered at your reply, “Ah, would you like me to get the door?” And your eyeroll was enough of a confirmation before she sauntered to the front of the house, smiling as she shortly became face to face with the neighbour’s kid.

“Mornin’ Valerie.” Stiles chirped, hand straight as it pulled away from his forehead in a welcoming salute.

Your Aunt simply copied his gesture before moving to the side, allowing a space just large enough for Stiles’ frame to fit through. “Hello, Stiles. C’mon in”. The dainty steam from her mug continued to dance over her face, prompting her to blow gently for it to waft into the hallway. She peered over her shoulder at the boy, lips curling at the corners, “You might as well just have your own key at this rate, seeming you’re here every day.”

“Oh, I already have one.” The boy let slip, his tone quiet as it absentmindedly fell in a mumble. It was loud enough, however, for Valerie to stop and twist her torso just enough to nearly face him. Her eyebrow rose in question and Stiles couldn’t hold back the awkward chuckle that he released, “Ya know, for emergencies!”

Valerie hummed, seemingly not convinced, but found the subject better to leave as it was. She always knew that Stiles Stilinski was an odd kid – he was too smart for his own good, but he exercised it in ways that made her wonder how Noah was still clinging to threads of sanity. His attention deficit disorder made him very vigorous, and she was used to seeing him as a young boy ride his bicycle up and down the street for hours, just to release said energy. He was constantly on the move and never seemed to slow down, using his intelligence to cause harmless mischief and drive his parents completely crazy. Valerie had also always known that Stiles Stilinski was a good kid. He was thankful for his parents, polite when his mother used to strike up conversations with Valerie in the driveway, helpful when asked for assistance, and overall kind-hearted. Your Aunt saw this more after your mother died – when you moved into the bedroom across the fence from Stiles’, he became an instant friend. She saw him care for you and pick up pieces that continuously shattered. He was your rock, your comfort, and he eventually became your light.

So, in truth, Valerie would always view Stiles as that weird kid next door, but she also held him highly for the large heart he carried so well.

 “I’m ready, let’s go.” Your voice interjected from the living room, bag slung over your shoulder and just enough concealer to cover the purple rings that pulled down from your eyes. The attempt to cover your exhaustion and lack of peaceful sleep was good enough to the unknowing – but Valerie and Stiles’ smiles fell just slightly, the truth clear as a sunny day, as they briefly scanned over your face.

It was your cue to shift your gaze to your scuffed sneakers before a cough cleared your throat and you pushed between them both. You knew that they provided you with looks of concern, and somewhat even surprise, but the last thing you wanted was the be the centre of some very unwanted attention. It was best to escape the awkwardness before it settled. With an arm effortlessly linking with your neighbour’s, you pulled him toward the front door with a goodbye call over your shoulder to your amused Aunt.

Slight anxiousness bubbled in Valerie’s chest, and you could’ve sworn you tasted it briefly on your tongue. She called after you, “Have a good day, and be safe!”

It wasn’t too long until you had crawled into the backseat of the Jeep, Scott slipping haphazardly into the passenger side you nursed for a mere ten minutes beforehand. He immediately dropped his head to the window, a guttural groan easily filling the space around you all and creating weak condensation against the glass. Stiles’ thick brows rose to his hairline in question as his eyes caught yours through the rear-view mirror – all you could do was shrug in response.

“You, ah…” Stiles started, reversing out of the McCall driveway, “You all good there, Scotty boy?” He was met with muffled speech, the glass once again fogging due to the inaudible response. Stiles pursed his lips, “Can you repeat that? Away from the window?”

Another groan was exhaled, “Couldn’t sleep last night.”

Stiles hummed, his head dropping into a nod of acknowledgement, voice quieting as he flicked on the indicator and peered down the street for morning traffic, “Seems to be a common thing around here.”

It was difficult to not conjure a bit of remorse for your werewolf friend. Sleeping wasn’t something that you could call a prize possession during these times; your eyes, even now, still fluttering from lack of slumber as you tried to hold back a yawn. You sighed, leaning in between the two front seats, “What happened Scott? Did’ya have a bad dream?”

His head lulled to the side, rolling over the headrest so lazily until his gentle gaze peered into yours, “I-I don’t know… it felt so real, whatever it was…”

Silence enveloped the Jeep for a brief moment; aside from the clutch grating whenever Stiles changed gears, and the morning tunes of the radio murmuring weakly. You could see the stress stem so easily from Scott’s eyes and it made you worry, trauma peeking through due to whatever horrors he saw.

Your lips curled in as your face softened, an attempt at holding back your sympathy was made so that it wasn’t mistaken for pity, “Well, how about you start with what your dream was about?”

“I was with Allison, we were… looking for somewhere private –“The boy started, his view tipping to look out the windshield as the Jeep navigated Beacon Hills’ suburbia.

He was interrupted, however, as you held up your hand and scoffed “I swear, Scott, if this is some kind of wet dream, I will hit you - “

Scott jumped, the accusation prompting his body to jolt awake before his jaw was dropping and his tone spiked highly, “-NO! No, let me finish” The young wolf’s head shook with incredulity, ignoring Stiles as he chuckled beside him. Scott’s breath drew deep, “We were at the school, just hanging out… and maybe making out, b-but that’s not the point!”

Stiles’ sounds of amusement died quickly, his eyes rolling, silently mocking his friend until he caught Scott’s judgemental glare beside him, “What? I didn’t say anything!” He muttered as the Jeep edged closer to Beacon Hills High. The sunlight was sharp; beams of gold flickering through the windows, filling the cabin of the Jeep with the Californian warmth, whilst also creating sparkles of mischief within Stiles’ delinquent wink into the rear-view mirror. You always wondered why his middle name wasn’t troublesome.

“Anyway…” Scott dragged, “We were both on the bus, and everything was great… so great, but then I just – “ His lips pursed as discomfort clouded his gaze, “I started to turn. I tried to control it but I couldn’t. I yelled at her to get away, but it wouldn’t stop!”

You could sense the anxiety. It was a common occurrence with Scott now – the uncertainty, the worry, the panic. He was bathed in it, and that’s how you knew that whatever went on within those night terrors of his must’ve been the worst case of bad. You looked up in time to see Scott’s head in his hands as was slipping lethargically from the Jeep, surrounded by fellow students as they made their way across the carpark. Stiles was next before he flung his seat forward for you to vacate.

As you swung your bag over your shoulder, Stiles turned to the side as feet directed him to the School’s entrance, his hands warming in his jacket’s pockets with a once furrowed brow now rising in question, “So, what? You bite her, or something?” He was wearing obliviousness like a new trend, completely unheeding to the trauma clawing into Scott’s mind until he saw the despair dragging down his friend’s usual lopsided grin, “Or… hang on, did you kill her?”

The two boys pushed open the large doors; your now intrigued senses heightening as Scott exasperatedly shrugged his shoulders alongside rounded worried eyes, “I don't know! I just woke up… and I was sweating like crazy, and-and I couldn't breathe!” He visibly shuddered and it provoked a chill to run down your spine at the small crack within the boy’s voice, “I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before.”

You wanted to reassure him – you’ve woken up like that, plenty of times. It started when your mother died and had reoccurred recently much to your dismay. It sucked, and it physically hurt, and it got to the point where you couldn’t recall what was real or fake anymore. Dreams were bleeding into nightmares, and they were determined to make themselves known whilst you were awake. You desired to reach out to Scott and tell him that he’s not alone, but any seriousness was so easily removed from the situation as Stiles stopped in front of you both, back to the remainder of the corridor.

“Really? I have.” Stiles replied for you, and for a miniscule moment you considered that he would be earnest and thoughtful toward Scott. But instead, his hands fumbled into strange gestures until he was making his point very cringe, and very clear, “Except it usually ends, uh… a little differently.”

“Oh my god.” Your eyes rolled quite distinctly as you pushed past Stiles, words muttered with incredulousness. The boy snorted, rascality etching deeply across his features as he watched you venture forward with Scott hot on your heels.

Scott groaned, new images flashing through his mind, and they were beyond not wanted, “A… I meant, I’ve never had a dream that felt that real…” He began, turning to look at Stiles with utter disgust contorting his expression, “And B… never give me that much detail about you in bed again!”

With a nod of his head and whispered affirmation on the edge of his breath, Stiles managed to take a deep breath, the corners of his mouth dropping as he worried about how Scott will react next, “Let me take a guess here – “

“No, I know. You think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow… like I’m gonna lose control and rip her throat out.” An accusatory finger was directed in Stiles’ direction, Scott sneering at the offence his friend was wearing too well.

Stiles’ mouth gaped, lashes fluttering uncontrollably against the sharpness of his cheekbone. The boy stuttered, “N-no, of course not!” He exclaimed, hands held in front of him. Your lips curled slightly at the twitch of his eyes as Scott stared intensely at him, scepticism also driving the jump of the young wolf’s brow. Stiles conceded, too easily, “Okay, yeah. That’s totally it.”

Stiles peered to the other side of Scott as the wolf sunk his head in glumness, managing to catch your sympathetic eyes. You weren’t sure how to help besides providing a few words laced with wannabe optimism, simply hoping that Scott can’t see past how hard you were trying to appease him, “Hey, come on, Scott. It’s gonna be fine, alright?” You smiled as you lent in closer to him, softly nudging his side with your elbow before ducking to catch his view. Your voice quietened into a whisper, “And personally, I think you’re handling this pretty freakin’ amazingly.”

“You know she’s right, Scotty.” Stiles chimed in, his arm leaning on Scott’s shoulder, “And it's not like there's a Lycanthropy for Beginners class you can take.”

The atypical sarcasm prompted Scott to raise his hands, the dark brown of his irises squinting, showing a forlorn expression in his frown. He appeared pitiful before a sudden change made his head raise, his eyes widening as if a metaphorical lightbulb lit up behind them, “Yeah, not a class… but maybe a teacher…”

Stiles scoffs almost immediately, “Who, Derek?” His words didn’t hold much meaning until he properly looked at Scott, all seriousness remaining in the young wolf’s face. Stiles spluttered nonsense, baffled by what he had heard before his hand whacked the side of Scott’s head. You cringed, trying to ignore the strange looks from your classmates before you heard Stiles’ voice pipe up again in exasperation, “You’re forgetting the part where he got him tossed in jail.”

Scott’s tone matched Stiles, of not with more urgency, as small cracks settled in the base of his words, “Yeah, dude, I know. But chasing her… dragging her to the back of the bus…” He sighed, a hand rubbing tiredly at his face, “It felt so real.”

You pursed your lips as the three of you continued walking the halls of Beacon Hills High, a heavy heart weighing down your chest as sympathy began to flood your system – an emotion, that for once, was purely from your own conviction. You looked to Scott, “How real?”

He drew a deep breath and shrugged, “Like it actually happened.”

Stiles reached out in time with you as you both pushed open the large doors at the end of the hallway, exposing the rear of the school, and greeted unexpectedly with crime scene tape and sirens. The three of you froze in time with the students pushing out from behind you, shocked and slack jawed as you looked at the horror scene that plagued the bus bay. One of the yellow school buses was tainted with a thick red spray and the back door just barely hanging from its hinge after being torn off. There were deputies ushing away growing crowds, and a well-dressed member from the Sherriff’s station taking crime scene photos of a torn back seat, with white cushioned stuffing spilling to the floor.

It was straight off the set of a Hitchcock film, and much to your despair, a perfect description of the nightmares that plagued Scott only a few hours ago.

Stiles gulped, “… I think it might have.”

You almost didn’t feel Scott’s hand as it secured around your bicep until the nausea began to light in your gut, the bubbling of acid and fear rising to your throat. Slowly, you peered to the side, and although your friend wasn’t looking back, you knew that this was Scott needing you to feel how he felt.

“She’s probably fine…” None of you truly knew at this point – initially unsure after Scott expressed his nightmare, and even more after the scene you’d just witnessed outside. Stiles’ words rang clear enough to hear, but Scott was far from listening as he pushed anxiously through the crowded halls, his thumbs racing as he sent multiple messages to Allison.

His teeth were clenched and knuckles white from the grip he had on the small device, “She’s not answering my texts, Stiles.” Scott stood as high as he could, attempting to look over the other students in case he spotted Allison. His features contorted frantically, heart hammering in panic, frustrations expressed through small grunts.

Stiles sighed as he tried to reassure his friend, “Look, it could just be a coincidence, alright?”

“A seriously amazing coincidence.” You muttered, not realising that you voiced your thoughts, and the defeated sarcastic tone that came out with them. You stopped, guilty as you passed over Scott and focused on Stiles and his lack of amusement. His bow raised, and you shrugged, “What? I’m just saying.”

“Guys! Just help me find her, okay?” Scott intercepted, evidently exasperated to the point where you swear he nearly reached for the pocket that once housed his asthma puffer. You all turned and scanned the hallway, beginning to make your way past students as you tried not to veer too far from one another. Class hadn’t started yet, and you were only feet away from her locker, but the girl was nowhere to be found. You pulled out your own phone and sent off a brief text, one to say good morning and ask if she wanted to meet for lunch – surely, much more toned down than what you imagined Scott’s anxious messages to read.

“Do you see her?” He eventually asked after the crowd was recycled, bringing in a new lot of students as they gathered their books and moved toward their first period.

You sighed in time with the slumping of Stiles’ shoulders, your voices in unison as they relayed the bad news, “No”.

Fingers dragged through shaggy brunette locks with jittery movements, and soon, Scott’s feet were moving just as fast. He was on autopilot and the spontaneous need to bolt made it hard for you and Stiles to follow him. He ducked and weaved, using his enhanced speed to escape the ruckus of the situation. It had only been mere seconds before he had disappeared from your sight.

You could feel Stiles grasp onto your shoulder, digits digging into the soft material of your jacket, their strength tense as his own state of worry started to increase. He didn’t ease the further you two moved but it was too late to catch a glimpse of Scott – the halls were too congested. He groaned as he pressed his chest to the back of your shoulder, “Where is he?”

“He might just need time to chill, Stiles.” You replied, trying to lead the boy to a space that was much more capacious.

He grumbled against your ear, “Chill? Do you remember the last time he freaked out like this? He nearly ripped our faces off with his little wolfy teeth.” Which was much more real than you’d like to admit, but instead you just huffed, a deep exhale, remembering the events clearly as they happened in the room just down the hall. It was absentminded as you reached to your shoulder to take hold of Stiles’ hand, squeezing tightly as you pulled him through the doors of the girl’s locker room. The boy made a small sound of awe, “How is this nicer than the boy’s one? Mm it smells nice.”

Nearing first period usually meant that nobody would be in here for hours – a space baron, vacant, and especially private. Thoughts ran wild in your mind on whether what you had planned would work, you could feel from near, but could you do it from afar? It made your chest fill with your own anxiety now, a thickness that was heavy in your throat and a throbbing in your head. Turning slowly, you glanced up at Stiles, who had finished examining the foreign room and whose large brown eyes had already settled on you with much curiosity.

Your lips pursed hesitantly, “I’m going to try something, okay? But I need you to just… trust the process.”

Stiles’ thick brow rose, perplexed by the process you were referring to. He didn’t get the chance to ask as you dragged him to a bench that sat between two rows of lockers, sitting in time with you as he watched a deep shaky breath being drawn. He could see the way your eyes creased with a lack of assurance and how your hands were rung the same way his did when he fidgeted out of uneasiness. He smiled softly, sympathetically, before he took your hands in his and held them gently in your lap.

This pulled you further to him as the apprehensive flutter in your chest began to die down. You drew another deep breath, this time, much steadier as you began to calm from Stiles’ hold. You sighed, “Scott can hear things, right? Far away. He can do this thing where he cuts through everything else and just zones in on a particular voice or sound. Like on the lacrosse field last week.” Stiles nodded, understanding what you were saying but not where it was leading. It prompted his head to tilt slightly to the left after he twisted his frame, now directly facing you front on with his legs either side of the bench. Your tongue darted out quickly to lap at your lips, “Well, what If I can do that too… but with emotions. What if I can feel Scott?”

“You’ve never done something like that before, how do you know if it’ll work?”  The boy questioned, eyes never leaving yours as he observed the desperation to try. His shoulders slumped, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing against your hands as they remained within his grasp. He could see your concern, as bright as day.

“You said it yourself, Stiles. Last time he was this worked up, he wolfed out on us. We don’t know where he is but I can at least try and see if he’s okay.”

Stiles agreed immediately – the line of his lips steady and straight as he nodded his head again. He wanted to help Scott, but he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t the tiniest bit curious just how far your new quirks can go.

You smiled as you pulled your hands away from his, sitting them flat on your knees, “I need you to be the lookout, and wake me if anything goes wrong.” When you had the go ahead from Stiles, you breathed in through your nose and fluttered your eyes closed.

You didn’t know if this was possible, or how to start it off, but you tried to focus purely on Scott. You thought about the distress he felt only moments earlier and how upset he was in the Jeep this morning. You thought about when you felt his anger on the Lacrosse field, and even more so when he held Stiles up against the wall in his room – how you voice made him stop.

Scott.

Stiles jumped when you opened your eyes, only to be met with that familiar white glow. It terrified him but he couldn’t look away, mesmerised by their tone and ethereal qualities that made you appear so oddly celestial. He waved one of his large hands in front of you but elicited no reaction, and it made him wonder just how this was truly working.

“He’s turning.” You said softly, brows furrowing, feeling the red-hot course of adrenaline that settled in your chest whenever you felt Scott turn before. It was as if he was clenching your own teeth as your jaw began to ache, worried that fangs were going to protrude. The inability to see just what you were focused on only made the feelings stronger. It wasn’t until your fist flew back and the muscles strained with such force that you knew it was getting too much, like Scott hit something, hard. You could barely hear as Stiles asked if you were okay, nor did you notice how he was quick to hold your still balled-up fist and inspect your knuckles. With a shaky tone, you whispered, “Scott, stop, come on… take a deep breath, snap out of it.”

It was a relief when your heartbeat began to drop as instant calmness loosened your tense muscles and relaxed the thumping in your head. You closed your eyes and smiled, sitting in disbelief that it worked, and that your friend was okay.

“Y/N?”

Stiles’ voice rang clearly, a soothing sound as it coaxed you back to consciousness. Your lashes danced over your cheeks for a moment as you gathered yourself, gentle as they opened to see Stiles shaking his head with a wide toothy grin.

He chuckled, “I can’t… you just did that, I mean… you’re amazing –“

“Attention students, this is your principal.” The PA system suddenly sounded, shaking you two out of your bubble as your gazes focused on the speaker. The announcement continued, muffled and crackly from years of going without a system update. You both furrowed your brows as you tried to listen, “I know you're all wondering about the incident that occurred last night to one of our buses. While the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as usual.”

You turned to Stiles in perfect unison, a look of disappointment dragging down your features as your bottom lip jutted out, “I can’t believe they’re still making us go to class.”

Stiles hummed, slapping his thighs as he stood from the bench before throwing a hand in your direction. His fingers wiggled, an invitation as he insisted on helping you up, “Yeah well, I wish that was the least of our worries.”

“You’ve got first period with Scott, right?” You asked, to which he nodded as he offered enough strength to pull you into a standing position. “Make sure he’s okay. It’s crazy just how much his body goes through when… it happens. Poor guy – “

“– your eyes glowed again.”

“What?” Your bag slid onto your shoulder, body twisting as you looked over your shoulder at Stiles. You pushed out your lips, voice hinting at tones of disappointment, “My eyes were closed; all I saw was darkness the whole time.”

“No, they glowed. They were bright… shining. Just like the other night at the Hale house.” He replied with so much excitement, hands moving in explanation. “It was actually pretty awesome.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. The more you use your abilities, the less you seem to understand. The unknowing was a never-ending fog and when you tried to decipher an explanation for the things that you could do, it only ended in getting lost even further – unlike Scott, he has a label, he was a werewolf. There was lore and expectations, books after books with detailed descriptions. But you always came up short, and the optimism that Stiles carried so well on finding an answer was just ever so tiring.

A huff passed your lips, “Can we talk about this later? We have homeroom.”

“Uh, yeah?” The boy replied, deflating immediately as you brushed him off. He didn’t look away as you made your way from the room; eyes wide as they followed you, trying to contain the pity he felt so strongly in case you could sense it. Stiles knew this was hard on you – whatever this truly was – but his determination would never falter. Never for you.

Leaning against the metal doors of some lockers on the first floor, you continued to stare at your phone screen – the text conversations fuelling the thoughts that run over again in your mind. You were in a daze; inattentive, distracted, engrossed in contemplations that you simply couldn’t control. It was the reason that you haven’t been sleeping and now it was taking over your daily life too. There was futility in focusing on one thing at a time. But how could you, with the added dramas from this morning.

You made an excuse to leave your class early when Stiles told you that they recovered a body from the bus. The ambulance rolled him out, and he was believed dead by your friends until the man jumped up in fear. Stiles told you that Scott was even more shaken than before and that second-nature feeling of dread had returned to the pit of your stomach. It was the softened call of your name that broke you from your pondering, to which you glanced up to be met with the two boys – one with a smile of sympathy, and the other with all of the devastation in the world sitting upon his shoulders.

“This probably isn’t going to help, but at least he isn’t dead.” You spoke quietly, your hand sitting upon Scott’s shoulder as you ducked to catch his eyes. You could see Stiles shrugging, hands sinking deep into the pockets of his hoodie as he claimed that he tried that, too. You moved until you could properly see Scott’s large brown eyes and a sigh pushed passed your lips, “Okay, at least it wasn’t Allison.”

“No, but someone got hurt, because of me!” Scott groaned, his face falling into his hands as you began to gently rub at his back.

Stiles piped up as he began to guide you all toward the cafeteria, attempting to bring some sort of contentment to his best friend, “We don’t know for sure that it even was you.”

“This is why I need Derek’s help. I need to know about this dream, what I did last night... I need to know what the hell is going on.”

You were first to the lunch line, trying to muster a smile as you accepted the assortment of food for the day. Looking to your side, you could see Stiles trying to push Scott along as he began to wallow once again in his distress. This was too much for him to handle, for anyone to handle, and you were starting to wonder if Derek really would have the answers for Scott after all.

“But dreams aren’t memories.” Stiles spoke again as you all were huddled together, locating an empty table. Stiles took his place first as you sat opposite him, Scott slipping into the seat next to you.

The wolf sighed and placed his backpack in the chair on his other side, “Then this wasn’t a dream.” He rubbed at his face again, anxious movements as he let out his frustrations, his voice cracking in what you could tell was plain exhaustion, “Something happened last night, guys, and I can’t remember what”.

Taking a bite of your apple you watched as your two friends spoke back and forth, a tennis match between scepticism and rationalising. It would be more amusing to watch if the topic of conversation wasn’t literally revolved around life and death. Stiles rolled his eyes, his body leaning back in his seat as arms crossed over his chest, “Uh huh, and what make you think Derek even has all the answers?”

“BECAUSE –“Scott began, already overwhelmed as his voice rose in anguish before the silent scolding from Stiles prompted him to settle down. He looked around bashfully, hoping that nobody could hear as he continued with a hushed tone, “because… during the full moon he wasn’t changed. He was in total control, while I was running around in the middle of the night… attacking some totally innocent guy!”

A coo pushed through your lips, a sort of sigh, as you lent slightly on the table to face Scott, “You don’t know that.”

But he shook his head, putting his metaphorical foot down, “I don’t not know it.” He stopped; eyes moving in thoughts as he bit roughly at his bottom lip, tugging before breathing out in defeat, “I can’t go out with Allison. I have to cancel.”

“What? No, you’re not cancelling, okay?” Stiles shifted forward in his chair, his crossed arms now settling on the tabletop. With a serious gaze, he looked at Scott, voice beginning to nag, “You can’t just cancel your entire life!”

You intercepted, a hand thrown in Stiles direction to agree with his sentiment, “He’s right, we’ll figure it out.”

“ – Figure out what?” Her voice was one that you didn’t expect, especially as it was followed by her sitting next to Stiles on the other side of your table. Lydia smiled brightly as she saw you, her fingers lifting into a small flutter of a wave, and you were happy to smile warmly back at her. You just hoped that she didn’t hear anything else before she made herself known.

Your greeting with your friend was interrupted by odd noises, fractured syllables and stammering sounds as Stiles grew nervous from being so close to his crush. He was at a literal loss for words as his mouth gaped and he smiled with bashful rosy cheeks. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Just, uh…” Scott jumped in, trying to fill the void that Stiles left when answering Lydia’s question, “Just homework.”

She took that as a good enough answer before looking to the other students that began to sit around the table with you, starting small friendly conversations that you and the two boys felt out of place within. It prompted Stiles to incline across the table, close enough so only you both could hear, his brows furrowed and tongue lapping at his lips, “Why is she sitting with us?” It was a question that you didn’t have an answer to as you shrugged in reply, side-eying Scott that did the same thing.

You smiled at Danny when he sat on Stiles’ other side, his greeting followed by a reciprocated grin and small nod of his head, and when you looked around nearly every seat was occupied by students that you didn’t have very much to do with. Harley slipped into the spot on your right as Allison settled next to Scott. It was a strange experience, and you managed to share your expressions of confusion with Stiles as he pouted from your conversation being interrupted.

“Get up.” Jackson scowled at the head of the table to a poor student, and you were close to banging your head on the surface in front of you just by the sound of his infuriating voice. Today just wasn’t your day, or Scott’s, or Stiles’.

“How come you never ask Danny to get up?” The kid argued, only maiming his case to stay.

Danny smirked as he bit into his apple, “Because I don’t stare at his girlfriend’s coin slot.” He spoke, matter-of-factly, and most of the table chuckled as the kid left in embarrassment and Jackson took ownership of the seat. You wished that your table has just been left alone.

You were looking between Scott and Stiles, thinking of an excuse for you all to leave, until Danny began a conversation about the morning events, “So, I hear they’re saying it’s some type of animal attack. Probably a cougar.”

“I heard mountain lion.” Jackson added, poking at his food with a disapproving glare.

You wanted to correct them both, but a disgruntled Lydia beat you to it with an annoyed tone of voice as she kept her eyes downcast, “A cougar is a mountain lion.” Your space was quiet as others observed her oddly, Jackson looking to her with a blank stare, and it provoked the redhead to tilt her head and speak once more with an airy high-pitched voice, “… Isn’t it?”

Her boyfriend scoffed and you started to imagine what it would look like if you just knocked him off his chair with a well-thrown water bottle aimed straight between the eyes. If only.  Jackson groaned, his voice uninterested, “Who cares? The guy’s probably some homeless tweaker who’s gonna die anyway.”

“Actually…” You flicked your focus to Stiles as he peered down to his phone, turning the device around for everybody to see, “I just found out who it is. Check this out.”

It was coverage from a local news outlet, the reporter seen speaking before the screen flashed to video footage taken this morning at the school, “The Sheriff's department won't speculate on details of the incident but confirmed the victim, Garrison Myers, did survive the attack. Myers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition.”

“Wait, I-I-I know this guy…” Scott shuffled in his seat, gasping at the recollection of the name, “When I used to take the bus, back when I lived with my dad, he was the driver.”

Everybody faded away as you, Scott and Stiles shared a pointed look between each other. With every new article of information, the tension would grow stronger, and it meant that it was gradually getting more difficult to piece together the puzzle.

Your sombre expressions were ignored as Lydia sighed loudly, indicating her boredom in the conversation as she examined her perfectly manicured nails, “Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please?” You watched as she jumped, gasping loudly as she looked across to Scott and Allison before sitting her chin atop her now folded hands, “Like, where are we going tomorrow night?” Their lack of reply made you wonder if they were on the same page as Lydia, so she took a deep breath, and spoke slower to clarify, “You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow, right?”

Your throat felt tight, and you knew that it certainly belonged to someone else. Leaning forward you could see Allison’s worried eyes, and as if on cue, the fluttering started in your chest as she grew nervous. You could noticed as her hands rung under the table, and Scott wasn’t any better as his shoulders tensed alongside the clenching of his jaw.

Allison coughed gently, a clear of her throat before chuckling nervously, “Um, well, we were still thinking of what we were gonna do…”

You recognised the way Lydia’s eyes lit up – how they glinted with eagerness, rascality, good intentions with a twist of trouble. She was eying off Allison and Scott and you knew that it wouldn’t end as ideally as they’d like. Stiles seemed to be thinking the same thing as he caught your focus, a joint wide-eyed look expressed between you both, a small smirk tugging at his lips when he caught sight of Scott’s apprehension of being put in the spotlight.

“Well, I am not sitting at home again watching lacrosse videos, so… if the four of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun.” Lydia’s tone was frank, the flow of her words spoken so candidly and confident with no room for dismissal. It was the total opposite to Scott’s ambivalence as he sat there, stunned, and slack jawed. Your space silent enough to hear a pin drop.

“H-h-hanging out? Like… the four of us?” He stammered, immediately turning to Allison and watching as she covered up her disappointment with a large drink from her water bottle. Scott lowered his voice and raised an eyebrow in question, “Do you wanna hang out? Like, us, and… them?”

A small, choked sound from Stiles forced your eyes away from the trainwreck in front of you to watch him cover his mouth, clearly taken aback by the scene you were both agonising over as mere spectators. He looked at you once more with those wide caramel eyes as you both shared a silent conversation – consisting mostly of ‘what the actual hell is going on right now’.

Allison chuckled in discomfort, but shone a lovely smile nonetheless, “Yeah, I guess. Sounds fun…”

“You know what else sounds fun?” Jackson interrupted, annoyance exuding from his voice and his features contorted into an unimpressed expression. He held his fork in the air, shaking it with his words, “Stabbing myself in the face with this fork.”

You thought that Stiles was moments away from spitting out his water as he took a large gulp; hoping it would stop him from interfering in whatever was going on in front of you, his eyes rolling dramatically and hand motioning wildly. Lydia, completely unaware of the interaction between you and Stiles, reached for the fork clutched in Jackson’s hand as she sent him a scowl at his rudeness.

She huffed, a manicured finger pointing in her boyfriend’s direction, “Well, how about bowling? You love to bowl.”

Stiles shook his head violently as he tried to gain Scott’s attention, but the werewolf simply just shrugged as he felt helpless in the situation. This made you drop your head to your hand, groaning softly under your breath. You changed your mind – this alone was way more dramatic than the events this morning brought you all.

“Pft, yeah. With actual competition.” Jackson continued his tirade of needing to be the best with a loud huff, his tone purposeful to deride the others.

What you didn’t expect to come next was Allison to speak with such enthusiasm, confident to hide the offence that the jock left them with. “How do you know we’re not actual competition?” The girl sat up straighter, causing her brunette curls to dangle over the back of the seat as she turned to Scott, hope sparkling in her eyes, “You can bowl, right?”

Scott shrugs, uneasiness dripping from his words, “Sort of…”

“ – Is it a sort of, or is it a yes?”

“Yes.” Your friend was quick to reply to Jackson’s patronising tone, his frame matching Allison’s as he sat tall and courageous with a smile curling his lips, “In fact, I’m a great bowler.”

You have never facepalmed so fast in your life.

Your afternoon classes went smoother than you expected. It seemed that everything that could be deemed eventful happened before the end of lunch, and the rest of the day went past as if everything was, dare to say, normal. You managed to filter out the background chatter about Mister Myers as you moved around the school halls in between your classes; only hearing the odd pieces of gossip speculating different predatory animals and scenarios that led to his attack. It was hard to pay attention to the different opinions when you knew the truth, or the somewhat truth, as you wholeheartedly believed that Scott was innocent in this matter.

You didn’t realise you were so distracted – staring out the window of your math class with such obliviousness – until you felt a tap on your shoulder. It provoked a small jump from you as your arm dropped to the table and your eyes growing wide and alert. As you turned, a concerned-looking Scott McCall was leaning toward you with his grip slipping to your bicep, squeezing with reassurance.

“You good?” He quietly spoke to avoid detection from your teacher, and you were glad that you both decided to sit toward the back of the classroom today. You replied with a soft nod of your head, unconvincingly, but your friend let it slide as he offered a thin-lipped smile. You could see from your peripherals that he seemed to be in an internal battle as he sat back into his seat, deep thoughts scrunching his brows and slack-jawed as if he was trying to think of what to say. You’d be lying if you didn’t find it somewhat amusing until he turned around to face you, his lips pursed in question, and momentary awkwardness in his eyes.

“So, uh… I think you were in my head earlier. Ya know, this morning…”

You hummed in reply, pen inattentively tapping against your page, “I honestly didn’t know how far I could go with it, but yeah, I guess so.”

Scott nodded as his focus flickered toward the front of the room and back to you when you were clear to continue talking, “It was weird. Like, I knew you were there and I could hear you, kinda… it was quiet but I knew it was you. I knew you were trying to calm me down.” Scott sighed under his breath, his hand running through his hair, “Reminded me of the first full moon, and you – “

“ – I thought the same.” It was a night that still made you uncomfortable; the first time you saw pure anger exude from Scott, how his eyes grew dark with harmful intentions despite the immense struggle he faced to keep them at bay. You remembered how he was trying to stop the anger and hold onto his humanity, but the moment he held Stiles against that wall… when he threw that chair at you… you realised that what Scott McCall had become was something way beyond what you could properly fathom at that time. Even still during this time.

Scott understood your choice to cut that memory, his head nodding again as he offered a sympathetic smile that was intertwined with all things apologetic and sweet. It hurt him more than it did you that night, and you could never stay mad at such a kind soul, always forgiving for what Scott does unintendedly.

“Another thing…” He began once more, only this time his voice wavered as if he was testing the waters. It made you wonder just why he was holding such hesitancy. Your friend cleared his throat, “How, ah… how are you feeling after doing all that? Your eyes glowed, you’re getting more into whatever abilities you have. Kind make you wanna find out what else, is uh... what else you can do… right…?”

The fractured sentencing was an indicator, but the way his eyes suddenly couldn’t focus on you and how he was uncertain with his speech – you knew that these words weren’t those of Scott’s.

“Did Stiles put you up to this?” You asked, point blank. Theories were proven correct when Scott’s eyes grew wide and his jaw slammed shut. As if he was caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar, a deer in headlights. He wasn’t very subtle. “Scott… I’m pretty sure I’ve made it clear to Stiles that I don’t really want to get into that right now.”

“But he worries about you. We both do.” His voice strained, and you tried to not feed into his physical emotion by taking a deep breath and closing your eyes for a mere moment. You weren’t ready to know what you were, or how you could do these things, because what if you didn’t like what the truth held? You can’t go back to an image of normalcy once it is all out in the open.

Your stare held notes of solace, a comfort in knowing that you weren’t alone; and that even though you sometimes felt as if you wanted to give up, the two unlikely friends that wondered so effortlessly into your life wouldn’t dare let you slip, not even in the slightest. You smiled at Scott in perfect timing to the last bell of the day, and he continued to smile back.

“So? Are we going to talk about earlier?” Stiles started immediately as you and Scott met him at the staircase, ushered along with the other students that were preparing to leave school for the day. You both provided a questioning look, and it provoked him to throw his hands up, still appalled by the scene in the cafeteria, “You know, the fact that you’re a terrible bowler!”

Scott turned to see Stiles glaring at him with all of the incredulity he could muster, and it caused a low groan as he remembered the bright white lie he presented so confidently, “I know! I’m such an idiot.”

Stiles continued ranting as he ignored the discomfort etched deeply on Scott’s face, “God, it was like watching a car wreck. I mean… first it turned into the whole group-date thing, and out of nowhere comes… that phrase – “ 

“Hang-out?” You chimed in, finger lazily pointing in his direction, and Stiles reciprocated your gesture and a complementing wide grin.

“Yes! You don’t hang-out with hot girls, okay? It’s like death.”

“Wait –“ You stopped him from proceeding, your body standing still in the middle of the hall as feet planted themselves still. Your brows were furrowed, contemplating the boy’s words, Scott looking between you both in the utmost confusion. You pushed out your lips, ready to press a query, “But we hang out all the time.”

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest as his head fell into an impatient shake, dumbfounded by your statement as he lacked the social cues to understand where this was going, “So?”

“SO… Does that make me not hot?” Your facial features contorted into a grumpy pout as you glared pointedly at Stiles. He immediately stammered, disconcerted with your words as Scott simply just stood to the side in immensely amused shock. It was a well-needed break from his own stresses as he instead observed Stiles making a fool of himself.

Stiles’ pitch increased as he jumped on the defence, hands held high and waving wildly, “What? No! That’s not what I meant!”

“So, you do think I’m hot?”

He was a blubbering mess – caramel eyes large and doe-like when they looked to you in nervousness, words heavy on his tongue as he tried to shake them out. Stiles was digging himself a hole, a deep hole. “Uh… just, let me finish… what I was trying to say is that once it’s hanging-out, you might as well be her gay best friend.” Lengthy fingers wrapped around each other before he shot his hold toward Scott, his attention span providing a clean getaway from the mess he was creating by shifting the conversation from you to his best friend instead, “Hey, maybe you and Danny can start hanging out.”

With squinted eyes you continued to watch Stiles and how he purposely avoided your attention. There was lack of offence on your behalf, it was just funny to watch him squirm. But a small part of you did wonder if you were viewed in this three-way relationship as simply just ‘one of the guys’ – and if you were, is that something you were completely content with.

Scott’s loud groan broke you from your thoughts as his head fell back, eyes closed and hands cupping his face, “How is this happening? I either killed a guy, or I didn’t…”

You were ready to console the young wolf but was cut off by Stiles’ own tangent, his overly-energetic mind already moving way past your previous topic as he began to mumble to himself, his own eyes unfocused as he peered into the distance, “I don’t think Danny likes me.”

“ – I ask Allison on a date, and now we’re… hanging-out…”

“Am I not attractive to gay guys?”

“ – I make first line, and the team captain wants to destroy me…”

“Surely I’m attractive to gay guys.”

You moved yourself so that you were standing before the two boys, your hands held in front of you as you raised a stern voice, “Okay, stop! You’re driving me freaking crazy.” Their heads perked up – like meerkats, cute and sweet and unknowing, bobbing around until they found the source of the noise before settling under your frustrated gaze. You released a softened groan as you rubbed at your temples, firstly looking to Scott with your hands now settling on your hips, “Scott, you need to breathe. Calm down. You’ll get yourself into a panic again.”

You could see as his shoulders slumped, tension slipping away and dropping to the floor. He glanced absentmindedly at his phone before doing a double take, the anxiety back as quick as it left, “Shit, now I’m gonna be late for work.”

A positive from gaining werewolf movement would be his ability to dodge with pure flawlessness. You usually saw it on the Lacrosse field, but now twice in one day as he bolted down the hallway to make it to work on time. You huffed, standing on your toes to see over the crowd as if it would magically help your projection as you called to him, “Don’t forget to breathe!”

“Wait, Scott! You didn’t say…” Stiles called exasperatedly after you, but his friend was already gone. “Am I, am I attractive to gay guys, I just… you didn’t answer my question.” His arms raised on either side of his frame, a deep sigh slipping in annoyance with muttered words. Stiles turned in frustration before seeing you, his face lighting up, “Y’N! Am I attractive to – “

“Nuh uh. You never answered my question from before.” Mischief glinted in your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. Stiles’ jaw slammed shut instantly. “Do you think I’m hot? Or not?”

You had never seen Stiles Stilinski so quiet before. He started at you with a now dropped jaw, unsure of which direction he should take in replying to you. You could feel the restless fluttering, however, in his chest. Or maybe that was just your own butterflies, teetering on the edge as you awaited his answer. Either way, it was affecting you both much more different than you anticipated.

Whether you were joking around or not, you didn’t expect him to take this long to answer – perhaps, he was thinking of a way to let you down easy. Yeah, that must be it. With a loud clearing of your throat, you plastered on a smile, trying to chuckle away the awkward silence.

“I was joking. Come on, weirdo, you’re my ride home.”

[melkyt]

CW: Major Character Death (of old age)

Luffy dies first Zoro dies last in their old age, history repeats itself, Zoro trains the next generation much like Rayleigh is a *chef kiss of a trope*

But the reverse I don't see much off and I would think would be delicious for the vibes and angst alone xd

Luffy never held back, never worried about dying young as long as the life he did live was full of joy and adventure. As long as he was with Zoro until the very end, and maybe they would go together to the next adventure.

Yet he died in Wano, then came back as a God, came back as something different yet the same with the power of his fruit. In his fights, everyone always said that by using that power he shortens his life span but they were wrong. He already lost his life, and that should be it, but his fruit gave him a new life.

Luffy reaches his forties, everyone is worried that is it. Nami and Zoro did the math a long time ago, they considered he would follow Roger's timeline and have maybe a decade left. They throw a huge party to celebrate life.

Luffy lives another decade, another party.

Sanji is the first to pass away, his genetics never counted for a long life, He is surrounded by everyone he loves, a peaceful calm death in his sleep.

Then it is Usopp around his 70s, it's sudden but he was with Kaya, nowhere else he wanted to be. They, the entire fleet comes to Syrup Village to throw a bigger banquet than this small island has ever seen.

Luffy does not stop using Nika, even if it is for fun over any actual fight.

Time goes on, Nami holds out, but she feels the end, so she goes home to be buried by her precious tangerine trees. It's a smaller event, the three of them started this journey together with nothing to their name, and it is only right they remember that time in the peaceful grove, talking well into the night until it is only Zoro and Luffy talking. They lay her to rest in the morning.

They depart a week later, after a wake where the entire village celebrated the girl that did so much for them since she was nothing but a child.

Zoro falters a month later. He tries to pretend it's nothing, they are almost eighty, and despite everything he is tired. Luffy notices. They visit Kuina's grave, Zoro's home.

They spend the time playing as children among the waves, eating all the food Zoro remembers from when he was an urchin running on the streets.

Paying respects to all the people who supported him and paved the way for him to become the greatest swordsmen.

Once he would have wanted to be buried with Kuina, in the small cemetery where she rests behind the old dojo.

Yet now, he does not want to leave his captain, leave the man he loves. There is a spot on the Sunny, a coffin to be sealed where his bones can be kept.

Luffy has seen people come and go, everyone from his generation, from the worst generation is gone. Yet they made new friends, took on students that hold their memories, that keep their legend alive. Still even as they celebrate the life Zoro lived, Luffy feels alone for the first time in a long time as he stands on the lionhead of the Sunny. With Franky gone, it will not be sail worthy for much longer. It was his ship and it should rest with him. So Luffy takes it back to Water 7 where it belongs, it can rest with the Mary. He takes a smaller ship that is a mix of both, a small thing that Franky built just for one last journey. He takes Zoro's bones with him. They will always be together even of only one of them is still alive.

Still, he lives, finding new adventures, but there is an emptiness. Luffy lasts a decade more. His joy sustains him, and it always will, but it is dampened. Luffy chooses a successor to his fruit on a whim. Maybe the fruit chose its next wielder by itself as it always does. This child with a bright smile will carry the future. Luffy has to smile as it is not an island that is different from his home, almost in the same place. Though his home is under the waves. This will be a good place as any for the adventure to end.

Perhaps in the next world, they can see each other again, and he will not be alone anymore. His ship will float through the oceans, a shrine to the greatest men that ever lived, protected by the power of something that lives within its walls.

-end-

[shotmrmiller]

The “reader reminds 141 of soap” blurbs have the brain worms going feral with all different au’s but this one the most 😭

Maybe reader is Soaps sibling (half sibling if they don’t much look like him). They spent their entire childhood in his shadow, always hearing the words “you should be more like your brother,” or the doting from every which way, “Johnny’s a good boy,” “Johnny’s so smart,” “how talented, that Johnny!”

Late teens they find themselves with no sense of self, no idea what to do. They don’t feel like they’re smart enough for college, or enough of a hard worker to go straight into the workforce, so they do as they’ve always been told, looking toward their big brother as a guide and signing enlistment papers.

Military life doesn’t suit them quite as well as it did Johnny, but they’re making it and they’re as content as they think they will get in life. That is, until their entire world comes crashing down as they get the news that their brother was killed in action. They have months to grieve but no one ever taught them how to deal with these emotions so they just compartmentalize. They put Johnny in a box in the back of their head and they try not to think too much about him, lest painful tears prick their eyes. The most comfort they allow themselves is when they find the cologne Johnny always used at a department store, “attracts birds like no other,” he’d always tell them. They bought it without a second thought.

Eventually they’re reassigned, something about some other group needing them badly, “too few people,” they were told. They didn’t question why or what had happened, simply packed their things and moved on with it. Being agreeable was something they’d picked up in early childhood, they already stood in their big brother’s shadow, no need to make everyone hate them as well. Meeting their new task force felt… strange. It was unlike any other time that they’d met the guys they would be working with. Rather than awkward handshakes and “nice to meet you,”’s, the team was all over them. They joked and smiled fondly as if they were old friends. And although it was great, being fawned over like Johnny, they couldn’t brush off an icky feeling of nostalgia. It was almost as though they were a kid again. Any praise felt the same way it did when they were ten, hearing their mother tell them they were “just like Johnny,” when they did anything right. The team doesn’t know who their newest member is, maybe they go by their mother’s maiden name or even a callsign but all they know is that they remind them of Johnny, not that they’re related.

And the reader doesn’t figure it out for a long time. Not when the team mentions their late teammate whose name they would never utter, not even when they felt history repeat itself. Surely it was just an insecurity from childhood, lingering on well past its welcome. It isn’t until the cologne starts giving them an allergic reaction that they realize. They’re devastated at how their skin reacts to the cologne, their last piece of Johnny down the drain. To make matters worse, their new team who had been nothing but kind and doting since the moment they met was suddenly very short with them. Its Gaz who slips up, reader comes up to speak with him, joke around or something, he was the most welcoming presence in the group after all, but he simply huffs a short, “not right now Johnny.” And the world stops.

Fast forward to when they have their little outburst. They’ve been dejected, offput, and it’s not like the team really notices. They weren’t completely mean anymore, not since reader started spraying Johnny’s cologne on their pillow for comfort, the scent lingers on them but not so much it would irritate them any more. The events of their outburst happen and they find themselves in laswell’s office, begging to be transferred.

After they’ve found their place on Graves team, they become more secure in their sense of self. They are a shadow how ironic, they are welcome on their team, they are cared for. The wound is reopened when they face tf141 once more. Ghost utters the soul sucking words, “Johnny would be disappointed in you,” (laswell told the team why they left, borderline shaming them for their behavior towards their teammate out of guilt because she’d known that reader was a mactavish, even put them on the team thinking they’d bond over their loss)

Maybe the reader says something like “well he’s dead now so why should I care,” or “even in death he dictates my life,” or maybe they care about Johnny more than they’d ever let on and they scream at Ghost, “you know nothing about my brother, do not use his name to shame me!”

Sigh, this au rlly did something in my mind. Sorry for yapping, I just had to share my thoughts with someone and ur inbox is my captive audience lol 🩷

ooooh the mactavish turn would be so gut wrenching.

in your mom's anguish, she questions why him? why has the lord taken johnny from her.

what goes unsaid is deafening.

it's always johnny, johnny, johnny. you can't blame him; he did nothing wrong. he had just lived his best life, unwittingly casting a large shadow over you.

one you couldn't dream of escaping.

until you finally do, in graves' company. it's liberating, there is no more fighting to stay afloat in the raging waves of the drowning sea.

ghost bringing up your dead brother is something so him. he'd dig through the soil that johnny's buried under with his bare hands just to make his point.

hateful, vitriolic. that's what ghost is, and you wonder if johnny had ever met this side of him.

"would johnny be disappointed in me? i don't think you even knew him well enough to know that, just like you know nothing about me— sans me being a mactavish. is that what hurts? looking at me and seeing a bit of him? then maybe you should've had each other's back better. don't lash out at me over your own failure."

ty for bombarding me with this

i thoroughly enjoy the idea of having reader be JOHNNYS SISTER that is so gooooodd!!!

extra bite to this angst.

[tomionefinds]

can yall share some tomione fics that youre currently reading/following? or even maybe an updated list of favorites?? thanks!

Hey Anon,

Sorry for the wait was checking if our other admins had more to add. As always there's our Admin Favs list here for anyone who wants to peruse everything on there. Apparently we've hit the threshhold for max links you can have in a post on Tumblr so we can't keep adding there.

Here's a few new fics I've been reading/following, as always I'm sure they're will be more to come in future ask me again in another year. Can't stop, won't stop. <3

I'd love to get more recs from people reading new works too! Please drop them in our comments or use our Submit feature to make a post! -JD

Altered State by Ginnyruin

E/Ma | WIP | 219k

Six years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Auror Hermione Granger activated a mysterious dark object, which unexpectedly sent her decades into the past.

Tom Riddle, now known as Voldemort, returned to British wizarding society in 1966 after a decade-long absence. Under the guise of interviewing for the DADA teaching position, he went to Hogwarts to conceal one of his Horcruxes, Ravenclaw’s Diadem. However, the coveted position had been stolen a week before his arrival by an intriguing witch.

As manipulative schemes emerged, tension built into a ruinous obsession.

Art Trilogy by WildKitsune

E/Ma | WIP

Art of Genius- Three years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione is working on a team of healers to help find a cure to a new wizarding disease. An imprisoned Lord Voldemort offers the help of his considerable genius but only if Hermione consents to be his handler.

Art of Charm- Even though Voldemort seems to be keeping his word to Harry and living within the laws of wizarding society, Hermione isn’t convinced her mate is as reformed as he seems. She becomes overwhelmed, knowing she can’t trust the one person she needs most in the world.

Art of Magic- A new player has entered the game between Hermione and the Dark Lord. What will it mean now that their bond has been broken? And what sort of powers does the mysterious Mr. Lake wield?

atelophobia by natasharomanhoffs

M | WIP | 107k

Sure enough, not five seconds later, the door cracked open, and a tall boy with green lining on his robes strode into the Hospital Wing. Hermione absent-mindedly noticed his attractive face, but she was more focussed on his uniform.

Lord, that looks stuffy, was her first thought.

At least he knows how to tie a proper Windsor knot, was her second.

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by Perhentian.en

M | Complete | 252k

Hermione had grown quite used to help Harry each time her friend managed to end up in some impossible situation, and this even if the war with Voldemort had been over for a long time. But when Harry, faced with the destruction of the magical world, decides to throw his friends back in time, Hermione is appalled. And what about this reckless plan of his to somehow use Voldemort?

Dark Lord Who by Naidhe

E/Ma | WIP | 35k

Bellatrix Lestrange uses dark, sacrificial magic to bring the Dark Lord back to life after Harry Potter has given his life to defeat him. However, asking for a "Dark Lord" turns out to be a tad bit too ambiguous. Baba Yaga is having fun, Godelot is a sadistic bastard, Herpo the Foul brags about his horcrux, Tom Riddle is unimpressed. (Dark)

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement by devdevlin

E/Ma | WIP | 14k

Harry's got a wild theory, and naturally, it's become her problem.

--

In which Voldemort fled the Battle of Hogwarts and seven years later, Hermione is appointed to lead the team tasked with tracking him down. *this is a rewrite

The Diary by LittleMulattoKitten, weestarmeggie

M | WIP | 127k

Hermione was suspicious when she found an old journal amongst her things.

Tom was intrigued the night someone else's handwriting appeared in his diary.

Lord Riddle watches his past unfold from Hermione's side of the timeline to make sure history repeats itself without Albus's interference.

Endless Night by cassidyblackwrites

E/Ma | WIP | 41k

The one in which Hermione is Abraxas Malfoy’s step-sister. 1940s - 1950s AU. No time travel.

Exitus Acta Probat by JellyBellys

M | Complete | 466k

After a series of catastrophic events, Hermione decides to go to the past to stop Tom Riddle. Story includes timetravel, Slytherins that aren't evil, romance, betrayal, death, angst, and some comedy thrown in. AU after OoTP.

Forever Means Forever by cocoartist

T+ | Complete | 7k

If she ever saw Unspeakable Number 37 again she would kill him with her bare hands: Hermione's research into the Veil has an unexpected side-effect. COMPLETE.

Gryffindor Red by foolishlywandwaving

NR | WIP | 37k

"How - how dare you?" She stammers, pushing him away with both hands. Riddle backs away as though she is brandishing a hot poker, a horrible little smile on his face. Her thighs burn white hot from where his hands have been trailing up. Hermione yanks her dress down and continues, finding her voice through the fog of insanity that has clouded her judgement. "How dare you just show up to my house and threaten me, then kiss me!"

Hermione Granger And The Journal’s Riddle by Little_Seraphim

E/Ma | WIP | 104k

‘I want to open it,’ Hermione thought nearly opening the book before stopping herself. “You cheeky book.” She tapped its cover. “Compulsion? Really?” Rolling her eyes at how stupid whatever magic the book had upon it was, she put it away in her school things and began sorting through ways of blocking magic. The new project had her eager and before long, she’d forgotten her boredom. Whatever the book was, it wasn’t common and it could influence the minds of those nearby.

‘I’ll get to the bottom of you.’ Hermione thought giving the book a grin.

Icarus by MarbleGlove

T | Complete | 16k

Some successes are only measured in how long you last before falling. Hermione writes a letter and begins a relationship. Complete

I of the Storm by Ardentlyadmired

E/Ma | One Shot | 6k

Her mind is still racing as she flees between the trees. Each bite and sting of the landscape feels like it’s fighting to keep her, hold her here. Even in the slick rainfall branches scratch at her face, drawing blood, snarling and pulling at her hair. Leaving pieces of herself in her wake.

She can smell the damp. Petrichor and dirt. Rot. The blood on her cheek, the sweat on her skin that melts into the rain. The acrid scent of fear. It reminds her that she is alive. Almost there. Almost free.

Infinite Spin by seollem

E/Ma | WIP | 24k

All the screens flashed black and white simultaneously, scoreboards blinking excitedly, the same glorious name at the top of each list.

Invictus by greyana

E/Ma | WIP | 319k

Voldemort intended the object to be used by his most loyal follower in the event that his horcruxes were destroyed, but it ended up in Hermione’s possession instead.

It sent her back to a time when he was much less the monster that she’d always known him to be. Dumbledore’s description of him couldn’t have prepared her for the intelligence and charm of Tom Riddle.

He isn’t who she thought he was.

Hermione discovers that it’s a dark descent into the madness of the man she should hate, but can’t… a descent she will never emerge from.

LordVoldemort.

Lady Selwyn by matchapuff

E/Ma | WIP | 88k

The discovery of an old Selwyn family photo sends Hermione back to 1952. At the heart of her journey is a silver crown.

Miðgarðsormr by xXAonoNYmouSPXx

M | WIP | 163k

Tom watched as the mother and son stop at a spot by the fountain. The witch whom he's never met before in his life, with bushy brown hair atop a heart-shaped face, and the boy who looked exactly like him when he was at that age.

Pink by yuwoo

E/Ma | WIP | 10k

If Tom had any say, he would not be here, but he has only just gained the Gaunt Seat. It is aberrant for one of his status to not possess a Thrall.

A Pound of Flesh by Thomas M Riddle sequel: Ill Met by Moonlight

M | Complete | 20k

AU: In her sixth year, Hermione engineers a way to reawaken Tom Riddle's diary. But forbidden magic has its risks, and she finds herself locked in a deadly battle of wits with the most dangerous teenaged Dark Wizard of all time. A game where the only way to win may be to prove the Sorting Hat's decision to put her in Gryffindor wrong. TW: Torture (some sexualized)

the price of water by peppershark

E/Ma | WIP | 34k

After a mishap in the Room of Hidden Things, Hermione finds herself in a barren, post-apocalyptic future where witches are all but extinct.

Ruination by VittoriaRenoir

M | WIP | 33k

Tom Riddle shows up on Hepzibah Smith's door in search of Slytherin's locket. Unfortunately, Hepzibah's daughter, Hermione, doesn't seem to like him much. Meanwhile, Hermione plots revenge.

She Rises by giraffelove92

M | WIP | 341k

"He watched as the air around her crackled with her magic, and it was so aggressive, so electrifying, that he wondered how this beautiful creature had ever managed to evade his notice – how he'd so foolishly underestimated her from the start." Darkfic.

Shopkeeper by Ciule

E/Ma | One Shot | 6k

A strange impulse rose - as if he wanted to have a conversation with her, maybe find out what she needed the fae teeth for - and he Summoned his trench coat, shrugging into it.

“Let’s have dinner.” It came out as a command, not as an invitation, and the girl looked as if she had seen a flying Merman.

A Sin To Know by EchoPhoenix

M | WIP | 81k

Tom allowed a genuine smile past his bloody lips as he raised his slender fingers to his gaze. Miss Granger really ought to curb such a self destructive habit, digging her fingernails into her palm like a reprimanded child?

stars never fade by no_halo

E/Ma | Complete | 9k

Almost a decade later, Tom finds her in Paris. She's still up to the same scheme, hoping to stop him and his rise to power.

Trials by nauticalparamour

M | Complete | 51k

A happenstance meeting between Tom and a mysterious witch named Hermione in Borgin and Burkes sends the pair of them on a tangled path to get what they want - Tom, ultimate power over the wizarding world, and Hermione, to bring down the dangerous wizard at the edges of her mind. Will their magnetic connection help or hinder them in their ultimate goals? Time travel AU.

Venenum by Koryanderi

E/Ma | WIP | 145k

Hermione travels for the year 1943. All she wants is to return to her friends, but her evasive attitude and behavior that breaks the standards of time, ends up arousing interest of Tom Riddle that soon turns into an obsession.

Verso by virennia

E/Ma | WIP | 25k

Hermione met him when she was twelve.

Tom Riddle, the most handsome boy in school.

when sunsets look like blood (hold me till the stars appear) by justprompts

T+ | WIP | 37k

"I - I'm really sorry, I've had a kind of portkey issue - " the girl begins, her voice carefully controlled - as Tom smirks at her.

"Really?" he says, pointedly raising an eyebrow at the offending object around her neck. "Wouldn't you rather say you've had issues with time?"

There's a long pause, as the girl's eyes widen and she looks down at the exposed chain of the Time Turner. She mutters a curse, before sighing and saying, "So, what year is it?"

Or alternatively

The one in which Hermione Granger accidentally time travels into Abraxas Malfoy’s bed in the middle of the night.

Who Are We? by BareWithMeHoney

E/Ma | WIP | 28k

The year is 2004. Voldemort has hidden his Horcruxes in the past and the Order is fighting against impossible odds to find and destroy them.

But when Time itself begins to unravel, a new kind of sacrifice must be made before the world comes to an end.

[aimportantdragoncollector]

For the ask game, Yoichi used to be his brother's right hand man but he was hit by a quirk and disappeared. After AFO has made a bloodbath in order to deal with his grief, he eventually settles down, retires and has a son. The thing is that Yoichi wasn't hit by a disappearing quirk but by a time traveling quirk and he appears on one of Izuku's birthday, kinda expecting... to keep working with his brother? Please!

This Yoichi will be a scandal at the Firsts Club.

All for One was super-happy to see his brother, deliriously so, but he's not willing to resume his business. He made a promise to his wife to retire. Also, he doesn't want to miss his son's childhood. This All for One came to blame his villainy for losing Yoichi and he fears seeing Izuku get hurt.

Yoichi hangs around for a while trying to persuade his brother to become villains together again. He teases his brother a lot for getting old and having old man habits. However, Yoichi is always very polite to Inko and calls her big sis.

Izuku thinks of Yoichi as a cool uncle who gives him presents at first, but also notices that Yoichi has low empathy and extreme levels of self-centeredness.

Yoichi is scandalized and disappointed that his brother never gave Izuku a quirk. All for One blamed the quirk he gave Yoichi for getting him involved in fighting and ultimately leading to his death so he decided not to risk history repeating itself. Izuku has a good relationship with his father in this AU, but he becomes angry when he learns his father could have given him a quirk.

Toshinori is quirkless and Izuku's favorite teacher. (Izuku did not get bullied in this AU due a more involved father.) Nana Shimura is the number one hero. Tenko Shimura is a spoiled rich kid.

Once Yoichi realizes his brother seriously won't join him, he takes over All for One's old forces. Gigantomachia is loyal to Yoichi as well and grateful not to be forgotten. Yoichi also takes over the MLA by seducing Re-Destro and then killing him to take his place as leader.

Yoichi kidnaps Izuku to use him as a replacement big brother to become a villain with him. Izuku goes along with this partly to avoid angering the dangerous madman and partly because Yoichi promised to give Izuku his quirk after he finishes his strength training. All for One and Inko are on the warpath.

Yoichi: I've kidnapped you to become my new villain partner.

Izuku: Come over here and I'll bite off your--

Yoichi: And I'm going to give you my quirk because it's very wrong that big brother never gave you one. I'll still have my flawless looks.

Izuku: I meant to say, what some people call kidnapping, I call uncle-nephew bonding! I'm excited to work with you, new favorite uncle. Hey, how long do I need to train before I get the quirk?

[corpsepng]

Pls make a list of books you recommend to aspiring writers<3

Ok. Aspiring/burgeoning writer starter kit:

In writing anything you officially become a writer so that’s step one haha, no need to aspire too much. BUT. I’m going to soapbox for a bit using this ask as an excuse love u kissing u etc. So. This will barely be about books, but sort of the recipe of what I (personally and subjectively) think will help anyone who wants to grow their craft. (I know because I've been writing seriously for 14 years)

The act of writing is the best practice you can get but having a well from which to draw on creatively and skill wise in order to DO that practice is the trickier part. And sometimes we can be found lacking because we’re either NOT refilling that well enough, consciously enough, or only with the same sorts of things so it gets stagnant. This is a long one so I’ll shove it under the cut haha.

The recipe:

Study craft

Broaden horizons 

Diversify consumption

Consume with intention

Apply with reference

1) Study craft: this is the easiest to make sense of, right? I want to get good at writing so I read books about writing yada yada. Whatever you’re writing, it’s made up of a lot of moving parts, and you can dedicate time studying EACH PART, but figure out what you have the least experience with, or the most difficulty with, and start there. Also, before I go on to preach about why you shouldn’t solely stake your growth on some dusty old books, here’s some dusty old books I recommend:

The Elements of Style (strunk/white/kalman) (really quick and abbreviated advice, read every bit of this but remember: rules are important to know so you can decide which are worth following and which are in need of breaking for the pursuit of your goals. And nobodies perfect, or editors wouldn’t have a job)

Bird by Bird (Anne Lamott) (excellent work about fostering a process, important for everyone who finds themselves a little lost on how to just. Start)

Wonderbook (Jeff Vandermeer) (I haven’t read this one but knowing Vandermeers work this is on my TBR and I KNOW it’s going to be enlightening)

How to Read Literature like a Professor (Thomas C. Foster) (perfect for those who can see others stories working but unsure how to make their own work, I personally didn’t read much of this one but this will help people to more critically engage with what they’re consuming)

Save the Cat Writes a Novel/Joseph Campbells Hero’s Journey/On Writing and Worldbuilding/etc (all of these are on structure and craft in a concrete sense), I would recommend either choose one OR getting the abbreviated/digestible versions through YouTube because a lot of these can repeat themselves. I’m working on a playlist of writing craft/structure videos that I found helpful, so keep an eye out for that)

So. Studying craft should be a multidisciplinary process. Articles online, videos on niche media, books on craft or copying things from your favorites, looking for yourself in the movies you watch or fiction you read. Punctuation, prose, structure, rhetoric, character, world building, pacing, etc. Unfortunately, no matter how seasoned you become as a writer, you will always be learning new things about the craft itself.

It should be fun and I honestly feel like an enlightened little scientist when I see something that really cracks the open the magic for me (ex: scenes that serve more than one purpose are OF COURSE going to be more engaging that scenes with only one purpose- duh) (of COURSE magic systems should have a cost) (of COURSE the characters cant always win OR always lose)

2) Broaden horizons: consuming fiction and studying it is key to knowing how to reproduce it. We start with the training wheels of imitation before we ride away full speed into truly unique original storytelling. But the most impactful and thought-provoking stories are more than just fiction, so you need to know more than stories. Science, history, art, craft, math, music, cooking, psychology, religion, whatever!

Everyone always parrots “write what you know”, but what you KNOW can expand to influence what you write- so keep learning new things all the time and for fun, because you never know what could help your story. Your knowledge is not limited to experience alone, and research is your best friend. ASOIAF was so loved because George RR Martin loved not only fantasy, but British history. The Folk of the Air series is so loved because Holly Blacks special interest is faeries.

Note: this does not mean the study of OTHER PEOPLES trauma and experiences in an appropriative way, rather, become worldly. Because sure, knowing what a gunshot feels like adds realism, but I don’t care about realism if I don’t care about your characters or world. Science fiction is the best example of this: so many of those stories stick with us generationally because they’re pointing a lens back at humanity, asking big philosophical questions with science, which is something that touches us all.

But it doesn’t even need to be Big and Thematic like that. My dear friend @chaylattes has a project where she’s applied her love of plants to the world building AND plot, and has INVENTED whole plant species that enriched their work with something so exclusively Chay. No one else could write Andromeda Rogue because Chay, with specific interests and knowledge, put that specificity into the story.

3) Diversify consumption: surrounding yourself with more of the same means you’re going to regurgitate the same, derivatively. To be a hater for a moment: I can tell within the first chapter if someone only reads/watches one kind of media (m*rvel, fairy smut, grim dark nonsense, etc), and it’s distracting. When I read that derivative work, I’m not thinking about THEIR story. All I can think of is the people who did it first, and better.

Alternatively, the best work draws on the unexpected. Fantasy work taking notes from horror, science fiction including humanistic romance, romance with elements of mystery. RF Kuangs work feels so smart because she’s literally a PHD candidate who’s reading of academic writing. Cassandra Clares work is so interpersonally messy and hard to look away from because she watches a lot of reality television. 

Genre is less a set of cages to lock yourself inside of and more so the sections of a great big fictional playground- and you need to start playing. Rules, again, are guidelines that can be bent for the sake of your stories. I predominantly write scifi/fantasy/horror but some of my favorite stuff is literary fiction, historical nonfiction, thrillers, and poetry.

And if you can’t bring yourself to read different genres, it takes significantly less effort to WATCH different genres. Television and film are stories too, and can absolutely be learned from. 

4) Consume with intention: this is easier said than done. I, embarrassingly, admit that I did not have any reading comprehension skills until I was at least 19. I was consuming, but I wasn’t thinking a damn critical thought, just spitting it back out in a way that sounded smart.

Critical thinking skills (I say, on the website that historically lacks such a thing) are a muscle that needs to be exercised just as often as your writing muscle. Reading new work, studying craft, learning new shit- none of it matters if you can’t APPLY it all to a story. One can take a clock apart to learn how exactly it ticks, but it won't tell time like a watch until you put it back together.

The key is asking questions, all of the time about everything. That whole “why the curtains were blue” nonsense comes to mind, but if you want to be a good writer, (edit: a writer that cares about whether or not their work is vapid imitation of better work) learning to ask WHY the curtains are blue really does matters.

Ask why in ALL stories you consume, including your own. Why do Ghibli films make me feel calm? (Motifs of undisturbed nature, low stakes plots and quiet scenes of reprieve between action, characters that care about one another and aren’t afraid to show it) Why do I fly through a Gillian Flynn novel but take 8,000 years to read other books? (Concise descriptions, realistic but evocative premise, witty voice, contained and fast paced plot, an abundance of questions driving the mystery leading up to a satisfying crash of answers at the end) Why were the curtains blue, the coffee cup chipped, and the lipstick stain on the rim red instead of purple or pink? And why did the colors matter at all when the scene is about a father at a kitchen table? (You tell me!) Answers may vary.

You can put the work into learning the answer at the source (ie: listening to authors talk about their own work), or through the external interpretations of a critic (proceed with caution here), sure. These are even good when learning HOW to think critically if you don’t even know where to start. But your growth as a writer depends on your ability to answer your OWN questions. 

(Why do I feel tense in this scene? Is it because the character says they’re sweating and struggling to breathe? Is it because I’ve been told the monsters close? Is it because the sentences are getting shorter and the author keeps repeating descriptions of that monsters massive bloody teeth coming closer? Or is it because I know the gun in her hands has no bullets because another character already tried what she’s about to try?)

(Why do I feel sad in this scene? Is it because the characters mom just died? Is it because the character can’t even verbalize that sadness to others? Is it because none of the other characters seem to care enough to ask? Is it because of the wilted flowers in the corner? Or is it because there are daisies in the bouquet, and those were the moms favorite?)

I can nod and smile at 1000 opinions about “why X did Y and the end of Z” or “why X is Y and not Z” but how I felt when I consume something, how I was affected and how it made ME PERSONALLY answer my critical questions, that’s what’s important. That’s how we manufacture gay subtext in everything, because sometimes gay is a feeling as opposed to a fact.

Also, if those subjective answers are inconsistent among readers/viewers, the writer likely had their own intentions a little muddled. So, and I know I’m getting tangential but stay with me: romance. You know how you’re supposed to feel happy or convinced that the people falling in love are like, in love? And want to put yourself in that position or whatever? I CANNOT consume most romance media because it all comes off as categorically terrifying to me. I ask myself why the characters are doing what they do, reacting the way they react, saying way they say, and none of it feels romantic. I want to file a restraining order, and that’s the failing of the author, who did not make enough conscious choices in their work and accidentally created horror while writing their color by numbers trope slop of a “romance” novel. 

5) Apply with reference: is like taking all your ingredients and finally cooking. You want people to notice and respect when you add certain literary devices, descriptions, character choices, but not to the detriment of your work. Shows like stranger things are popular but divisive because their intertextuality and reliance on nostalgia bolster an otherwise unoriginal idea. They weren’t trying to reinvent the wheel, they were writing a love letter to Stephen Spielberg, and are riding that wave into the ground. But the fairy dick renaissance doesn’t feel nearly as palatable as season one of stranger things did because a lot of times they aren’t using the ingredients in their own way, rather, following the recipe to a T and selling it as new. Food really is the perfect metaphor and sorry in advance because I’m really going to run with it here lol. 

When I eat a meal, first of all I know I'm eating food, so don't try and trick me into thinking otherwise or I'll only get annoyed. I want to be able to taste all of what’s in front of me, spice, salt, sweet, bitter, etc and know what what you said you've fed me is really actually truly what I've eaten. One ingredient, or writing choice, shouldn’t overpower another, or surprise me so much I can’t take another bite. I shouldn’t try something you call “sauced and baked yeast patty garnished with fermented milk and smoked meat” and think “this shits pizza” because you didn’t even try to jazz it up more than what the instructions on the digiorno box said. I also shouldn’t bite into something you call a pizza and only taste bread because you really like bread and forgot that a pizza is more than just bread. 

But inversely, avoiding all ingredients gets you weird, nary inedible shit like charred milk reduction with lamb mist or whatever. Show me you have knowledge in your genre by referencing it AND remixing it, show me that you studied craft by foreshadowing properly or pacing well, show me you’re more than an AI writerbot by deepening your work with your unique and human influence, show me you read broadly by adding surprising ingredients, and show me that you mean every word you write because you made the curtains blue instead of yellow, and topped your pizza with pepperoni instead of pineapple.

Congrats on making it all the way through my rambling, hope I made sense and that this helped!

[sigyn-foxyposts]

Do you have any headcannons for Smite! Logyn? 👀👀

I really want to play the game but i have no idea how it works-

I do actually, thank you so so much for asking!! I don't know what you mean by that but to hopefully be helpful, smite is a third person multiplayer battle arena game. I have it on steam but you can get it through other platforms like Nintendo Switch, ect. ✨👀

Onto the head cannons!! 🐍✨

Despite Loki's harsh and broken nature after his torment, he still has a huge soft spot for Sigyn and is loyal to her!

Whenever they're in battle, Loki will do everything in his power to assassinate whoever touches a hair on her head.

This is because Sigyn is always his support, both in their current battles and in the obvious past!

Sigyn before every battle will nag Loki about getting the right items, this can be annoying but Loki reminds himself that she just cares about his safety!

Teasingly, whenever Sigyn is trying to figure out what she should get, but is taking long Loki will make intentional nagging remarks about how slow she is.

Once while Loki was drunk, he told Ratatoskr to tell every pantheon how much he loves his wife! (Chill we know!)

The next day when everyone asked what the deal with that message was, Sigyn felt both emmberesed and honoured.

When they're training together, sparring and such! They like making up as they go what the other one has to do if they loose (how fun and..spicy!?🌶 👀)

There has been more times than Sigyn can count where she and Loki will see and catch up in the jungle only for Loki to almost be killed by another god!

What Sigyn finds funny is that he isn't offended that someone just tried killing him, but that they could've hurt her in the process! (Interrupts their flirting! 😈)

Sigyn sometimes find herself missing the old version of Loki, that was kind, mischievous and playful. So different from how unhinged he has become.

Yet, that doesn't mean she loves him any less. After all she's not any better in the head mentally either!

Both Loki and Sigyn laugh like crazy people.. They are crazy people (⊙_◎)

They're both very aware of how broken they are as well, and feel like the only way to continue life is to stick together.

Their deep bond, trust and support is all they have left. Family and sanity is what was left behind as tragic as it sounds.

Sigyn is almost Loki's guilty pleasure, because he knows he doesn't deserve her but can't help but need, depend on her and obviously treasure her!

Without her he would feel so lost, helpless and empty. Truly the only thing holding him back from genuinely going fully insane for good was his beloved.

It's the same way for Sigyn, but instead of insanity getting to her first, it would feel like she served no purpose other than to kill everyone in her way until she herself is killed. She is already numb!

Loki feels very guilty for never being able to truly express how much she means to him, especially after the huge sacrifice she made staying by his side.

Sometimes he just likes looking at her, turning away when she feels his eyes. He is secretly reminded of simpler times, the less painful memories.

This is both so comforting and annoying to him because he gets very emotional. Hence the real reason why he turns!

When Loki found out Sigyn was pregnant, he was afraid of history repeating itself. That his new children would be like the last three, monsters!

Luckily for him the twins looked human enough and he for once felt peaceful, full of relief that the gods had no reason to take his new sons away. (About that..)

While Sigyn recoverd from the after birth, Loki was very consistent in making sure her and their boys had everything they ever needed!

He kept checking in on all three so often it got to the point Sigyn had to remind him to take care of himself too!

Loki honestly admires how Sigyn is still able to have such close bonds with their oldest children, who won't even bother to look in his direction anymore.

Despite this, he still puts some effort into their ghostly son and wolf child, trying to learn from his mistakes and check in on them. Which doesn't go unnoticed, Sigyn is always so proud!

Even though she knows why Loki killed Baldr and refuses to truly blame him, whenever the topic is brought up she can't stare Loki in the eyes. She just gets so pissed off at him and Odin!

When you're plagued by dark thoughts, nightmares often follow! Both Loki and Sigyn struggle with this at night.

Loki is mostly haunted by his actions and the hatered he faced, while Sigyn keeps seeing that dark, cruel cave.

To soothe each other Loki will always spoon, cuddle or hold Sigyn close to make her feel protected. Kissing her scared burnt hands or wrists gently, letting her know she can rest like she used to, there is no bowl to hold.

Sigyn in return usually strokes his back or runs her fingers through his dark hair. Kissing his forehead, nose bridge and lips to remind him that he isn't bound.

They even stroke the outlines of their scars on each other, either after an emotional session or out of boredom.

Sigyn is still very clearly upset and sensitive over what their sons had to go through, including what happened to herself and Loki. (It was unfair tho!)

Sometimes Loki makes unflattering remarks about himself, thinking his looks were ruined by the snakes venom.

Sigyn very much disagree's with this statement and insists he is still as handsome as the day they met.

Loki still enjoys the efforts in trying to make his sad sack of potatoes for a wife to smile or laugh! It works every time, no matter how much Sigyn protests.

Loki turns invisible to scare Sigyn and what's exciting with this game is that sometimes he actually manages to catch her off guard, or it's the other way around and he tastes his own medicine!

If Loki ever needs to go anywhere but wants to stay with Sigyn, he makes a decoy to do the trick or job for him!

(Which one is real though? 😏)

Thank you for reading everything!! This is what I have so far, I might update in the near future if I get more 💚✨