#but can we have an antagonist that can stand on their own two feet?

[braininatankwithalaptop]

When will my Zelda games with original antagonists return from the war?

[starlightshadowsworld]

The thing is no demigod in the original series was made to feel weak.

Everyone had their own individual strengths.

And we knew children of the big 3 were on a whole other level, without putting other demigods down.

Annabeth and Clarisse are great examples of this. Never are they made to feel inferior to Percy.

Hell the main antagonist for most of the series before Kronos swoops in, is Luke.

They all feel like equals.

So how do we go from that to Heroes of Olympus.

Where anyone who isn't Percy or Annabeth are seen as weak.

Jason and Hazel should at the very least be on the same level as Thalia and Nico.

At the very least.

Thalia was on the run than stuck as a tree for years before joining the hunters.

While Jason was raised by Lupa and than at Camp Jupiter. Being trained since he was 2 years old.

He lead the Roman side of the battle of Manhattan. And took down Krios and toppled his throne.

Krios is a titan even if he had help which preseumbly he did, it's a massive feat to accomplish.

It does not make sense for Jason to be weak.

I'm not saying Percy shouldn't be strong, he is we all know he is along with Nico, Annabeth and Thalia.

But they shouldn't be used nor does it make the rest of the seven weak.

The only one who it kind of makes sense to be weaker is Frank because that was intentional with his stick.

But even than that just puts him on the same level as an average child of Mars.

Rather than being stupidly overpowered by being a son of Mars AND legacy of Posideon.

Again, see Clarisse.

Leo is one of the smartest people of the group, built the Argo II and that's without going into the fire powers.

Piper's charmspeak is stronger than Drew's and has been able to control monsters itself.

They aren't weak in the same way Beckendorf and Silena aren't weak.

And none of the seven are weak.

But Percy and Annabeth have to overshadow everyone in a way they didn't in the original series.

And thus in comparison make everyone else weak.

When all the members of the seven can and should be able to stand on their own two feet.

They are supposed to be the seven strongest, not Percy, Annabeth and whoever these guys are.

People argue it's because characters like Piper and Leo aren't trained but neither was Percy when he beat up Ares.

And yeah Percy was the main character of the first series so of course he's powerful.

But he's not the only main character in this series now is he.

He's with people who should be on parr with him.

On his level.

Otherwise, why are they even here when Percy can do it all on his own.

When it was a message in the first book that he can't do everything alone.

And I don't just mean with Annabeth.

Despite how strong he is, most of Percy's fights aren't won alone.

He's always had help, be it from a friend or a God stepping in.

He was literally invincible and he couldn't win the war by himself.

He had help from his whole camp, most of whom didn't even have powers.

And yeah a lot of it comes from not getting enough time with the others as we did Percy and Annabeth.

Which is why I say they shouldn't have been in the series in the first place.

But even still, their were 5 books and we couldn't get enough time with the others?

We had 5 Percy Jackson books and managed to get enough of many other characters along with the main ones.

Just doesn't make sense.

[darkfictionjude]

I feel like my Crowny is still learning to understand themself, like do they like people? They're only hanging out with the boys becasue of the murders, once it's solved will they care to hang out with them? will they be sad or happy to not have that making them hang out? or will they once again feel nothing? I don't think there's any answer to that yet becasue feelings are hard, anger is easy for them but everything else is hard to understand and easier to not feel.

the fear of feeling nothing again is so real for them.

They kissed Imre but is that love or anger? can anger be love? Is that action meant to mean something or not becasue they're so confused and don't know how to feel about it.

How they miss Nia but also she didn't write to them so clearly she must not care (their thinking) so they shouldn't care either, but also they miss her and are now looking at her and thinking she's pretty and they don't know what to do with those feelings so they try and fight with her even if Nia will never give them the reaction they want, but do they even know what reaction they actually want?

gods they're having fun with Lorcan and that's another thing that is hard when he was dating Orla for along time there, anyone can tell he still loves Orla and I don't see that changing ever. But like how can they sit there and have fun hanging out with this guy, maybe even feel something for him when there's that history that taints it?

I feel like there's no real winning here for Anomaly because they partly won't let themself try and be better and actually get along with the ROs.

then there's their family, they hate their mother, probably hate their father but I feel like we haven't gotten much of the father yet in story to really get a feel for how Crowny feels about him so...

and there's the strained relationship with their siblings, to feel safe with Sally but also feel suffocating by him, I feel like the longer the story goes on the more Anomaly doesn't like how overbearing Sally can be but it's also all they know so do they try and change things or do they let it be? Percy is a whole other bag of confusion because sometimes they can almost joke around and feel like they're getting along but also other times it feels like they hate him, so like I feel like Anomaly rather they know it or not wishes to be closer to their siblings but there will always be something keeping that from truly happening.

how they hate Orla bet deep down wish they could have been closer to her.

really I feel like Anomaly is just a confusing mess still where they still don't know themself and anger comes easiest to them so they're not a easy person to be around or get along with, they're hateful and will most likely hurt people becasue of it. like I feel like there's that fear of maybe having a good friendship with people and so that leads to hurting others becasue that's easier to deal with. and I feel like that fear will lead into things not working out between them and their siblings too. like a fear of how long before they hurt their siblings before there's no turning back.

Anomaly can just as easily hurt themself mentally as they do physically and instead of learning to do better they only just hurt themself and everyone around them more.

there's a reason why I think no romance would be good for my Crowny but also can't stop picking the antagonistic romance options becasue it's fun and fits them so well to keep doing what isn't good for them.

my feelings on Crowny are confusing I feel like but also Anomaly is still confused about themself so I think that makes sense.

Yeah you got “I’m confused and my Crowny is confused” really well across here 😭

Yeah like I said character development doesn’t always go from bad to good or from messy to functional and as Crowny is discovering how to stand on their own two feet they are also crumbling canonically no matter what kind of Crowny you play it is obvious they aren’t handling any of this well and are very close to cracking

I feel like they come into their own in season 2 no matter what path they choose but alas one must fall before they can get up and Crowny hasn’t fallen enough for me 👹

[izunias-meme-hole]

One Villainous Scene - Nibelheim Incident 2: Electric Boogaloo

The most iconic moment from the original has been entirely remastered.

Anyone who's played the original Final Fantasy VII knows who Sephiroth is. He’s easily the most iconic Final Fantasy villain and one of the most iconic villains in gaming. Doesn’t matter if you know him as the scary ass dude who stalks a twink, one the most notorious superbosses in Kingdom Hearts, a silver haired anime man, or even the “Alien Mama’s Boy,” we can ALL agree that he’s terrifying, especially in the Original FF7. However we are not focusing on the Original Sephiroth, we are focusing on the Remake Trilogy's Sephiroth.

In the original, we first hear this guys name after he stabs the false main antagonist, President Shinra, with his iconic sword, but we never see him. We are given an idea of what he’s like, but we never see him in the earlier portions of the game. Meanwhile the first installment of the Remake introduces Sephiroth way too early, which both creates a slight bit of intrigue and shoots down the chance for him to be the level of enigmatic that he was in the early game, and sadly reduced some of his menace. However, despite their differences, both incarnations of the character end up going down a similar road, and raise intrigue that gets paid off in the trilogy's second installment, Rebirth.

At the opening of this second part of the trilogy, Cloud looks back at his “memories” of him, and from what we can gather Sephiroth was cold and stoic man with some care for his men and some kind of… hidden sorrow. He’s still currently a mystery, but what we do know is that he is considered a “war hero” to Shinra, he and Cloud are heading to Cloud’s hometown, Nibelheim, and that this flashback is building up to something. Then we are introduced to the possibility of him not being human when both he and Cloud discover a hidden Shinra lab, find monsters, and the name Jenova, coincidentally the name of Sephiroth’s mom. So after having a small mental breakdown at the possibility that he might not be human, Sephiroth goes to the Shinra Manor, and he locks himself in there to find out what he truly was.

Then the madness begun…

When Cloud sees Sephiroth again, he isn’t welcomed with his traditional cold demeanor. Instead he’s welcomed to the sight of him rambling about the Cetra, the possibility of himself and his mother being Cetra, revealing that he was basically Shinra’s lab rat, and making notions that humans were inferior compared to him. He sounds like an insane person at this point, and just when things weren’t tense enough, he just knocks out Cloud, and exits the manor with a mission to see his "mother".

Now here's the biggest alteration to this scene. After waking up and exiting the manor, Cloud is fearing the worst, and his fears soon became reality. Nibelheim was being burnt to the ground, his hometown was being burnt to the ground, complete and utter panic is being spread, and its residents are being slaughtered. Cloud goes into the burning village to go look for his mother, only to witness her be trapped in her own home and burnt to a crisp as he lays on the ground completely helpless. A villager then tries to help Cloud, but is soon skewered by Sephiroth's blade. From there, Cloud begins drawing his way to the ruthless Sephiroth, trying to regain strength as his former idol slaughters anyone in his way. This entire sequence is slow and prodding, but its worth it because after Cloud finally gains the strength to stand on his own two feet and look Sephiroth in the eye, all he ends up seeing is an entirely different man, surrounded by fire. Sephiroth, the Sephiroth, the legend... BROKE DOWN, and Cloud is just realizing that fact by looking at this monster standing in the fire.

I still think that the original version of the Nibelheim Incident was perfect, but the small little changes that were made to how its all set up, somehow delivered the exact same feeling of dread, which is should be an impossibility considering how oversaturated Sephiroth was in the earlier part of the trilogy. Either way, Sephiroth is still A walking, talking, unethical, and tragic science experiment with a god complex, mommy issues, and a very clear terror that is alien compared to every other villain or creature, so far. He may be unable to properly invoke the same terror he could in the OG FFVII, but the Sephiroth we see in this trilogy has just made the promise that it's not going to reduce his monstrous he's going to be, and oh boy does he keep that promise after this scene.

[queen--of--maggots]

What’s your most unpopular DN opinion? (It can be about canon, fanon the fandom)

I don’t even know if you are still around anon, but I promised you an answer, and here it is. Unpopular opinion time! And here’s a really unpopular one: I wish Wammy’s wouldn’t exist and Ohba went in a different direction after L’s death.

I’m probably almost the only one with this opinion. I know many people love the Wammy kids, and I want to make this clear, this is not necessarily about the characters from Wammy’s. I appreciate them, some more, others less. However, you can like a character and still think the story would have been better without them.

First, a few points on why I don’t like the introduction of Wammy’s.

One thing I enjoyed a lot about DN up to L’s death is the lack of overused tropes. For example, DN isn’t L’s story despite him fitting more into the good guy role, L isn’t portrayed as a hero, Light isn’t portrayed as a villain, Misa isn’t the innocent victim who was dragged into this, and neither L nor Light is the chosen one(s), main characters don’t have an extremely outstanding design, and so on. Wammy’s changes this partially. There must be people, qualified ones included, in the entire world that have reasons why they want to stop Kira, but all of Kira’s antagonists originate from the same place – Wammy’s. That’s pretty much the secret-intuition-that-protects-the-world-from-evil trope. It also falls into the chosen one trope because only L’s successors are apparently good enough to put an end to Kira. Also, Near has a rather outstanding design. Having white hair isn’t impossible, but highly unlikely. In addition, he looks like 12 despite being 18 and always wears fucking pajamas instead of normal clothes. Mello has a somewhat outstanding design too, but it’s more the way the dresses. I won’t complain too much about it. Still, compare this to Team Kira’s new additions. Mikami’s and Takada’s designs are way more grounded.

Another trope I find annoying is linking everything to the same two or three people. Every important character that is introduced later in the series has a connection to one of the original main characters (being related, childhood friends, same former mentor, …). In my opinion, that’s just a cheap way to give a new character credit without them doing anything and make them more popular among fans. If the character is well-written enough, things like that are not necessary. Ohba goes hard for this trope with Wammy’s: Near, Mello, and even fucking Matt are all L’s successors, so they have a direct link to him. And, while it’s just a spinoff, and how canon it is is debatable, even the BB murder case goes back to L and Wammy’s. (I know AN wasn’t written by Ohba, but it fits the pattern.) Compare this to Light’s allies. Most Kiras had no previous connection to Light before meeting him. The only exception is Kiyomi after the time skip. In Misa’s case, Kira gave her the revenge she wanted. However, she’s likely still one of many with similar stories. She didn’t know Light before, and Light didn’t know her. Even how Misa got her DN is unrelated to Light and Ryuk. Mikami had to stand entirely on his own feet. He had no direct connection to Light or L whatsoever.

I’m also disappointed that Ohba toned down the realism with Wammy’s. DN wasn’t 100% realistic before either, but there is a drop in it with the introduction of the Wammy’s characters. We go from one rich dude who fights crime mainly for entertainment to an entire training ground for super-intelligent orphans to become the world’s greatest detectives. Then there’s Mello with the missile and ultra-fast healing powers, and Near winning because of magical guessing powers and plot armor. Both are also younger than Light and inexperienced. And while humans aren’t born with special powers in the DN universe and supernatural aspects are limited to the Shinigami and the Shinigami realm, BB has Shinigami eyes for no apparent reason. Technically, these are still connected to the Shinigami within the story, but the explanation given for this is extremely vague and unsatisfying.

The points I’ve listed so far would bother me less if they always would have been a thing or if both sides were treated equally regarding tropes and bullshit. But they are particularly noticeable for Wammy’s characters, while Team Kira is not so much affected.

Also, I liked that before Wammy’s became a thing, L was an extraordinary element. L appeared to be self-made. He even became an important part of law enforcement even though his main motivation wasn’t justice. Before Wammy’s introduction, his death would have had a massive impact on the DN universe because once he is dead, L doesn’t exist anymore and is no longer a secret weapon in difficult cases. Even if Kira is defeated, losing L in the process would be a massive loss. Wammy’s existence reduces L to a replaceable role. If he dies, someone else from the L-factory will take the position. The death of L as a person has almost no impact on the DN universe because L as an entity still exists, and that’s the only thing that counts. No consequences whatsoever. Barely anyone knew how he looked anyway.

I understand why Ohba went with L’s successors as a continuation instead of something else. He was playing the safe card by feeding the consumers something they are already familiar with. Going for different scenarios would be risky and require more effort. However, it could have been more rewarding if executed well. I would have liked a greater variety of enemies for Light and him having to adapt to new dangers. So, here are some scenarios that I would have found more intriguing than the one we got.

The premise of Mello’s arc was interesting; unfortunately, the execution was horrendous. But Light vs a criminal organization that, for example, wants the DN or Kira’s power for themselves isn’t a bad idea. A criminal organization would be a lot more ruthless than L. L needed evidence, while a crime syndicate would immediately shoot Light if he showed up on the list of suspects. And his family would be in danger too.

Or a revenge plot? Something like Kira killed a family member or other loved one (preferably justified, but could also be someone wrongly accused), and a bereaved person wants revenge. Now, this person is on a suicide mission, and Light has to fight against someone who has nothing left to lose. Their own survival is optional, only getting revenge before dying counts.

How about Kira vs a fanatic Kira fan? Someone who thinks Kira isn’t Kira enough anymore and feels they can do better? Maybe this person could make Light’s allies question their loyalty to him. Who are they loyal to, Light or Kira?

A female antagonist would also have potential (but not with Ohba as an author). Light tends to underestimate women. Now, Light faces one as a competent opponent, and he has to take one or more critical hits to realize the danger.

Anyway, the successor arc definitely has its moments, but overall, it is a lot weaker. And in my opinion, these weaknesses are primarily connected to Wammy’s. So, removing it could have been beneficial for the story. At least, that’s my opinion. If you have a different opinion, that’s great. But please, I’m not particularly interested in lengthy discussions about this subject.

[somereaderinblue]

So, recently I've been rereading the Batman Beyond tie-in comics & one of @theycallme-ook fics, which brought me back to a character that's criminally underrated: Julio "July" Jimenez.

(You can read the full story using this link. Sadly, it's his first & only appearance.)

I really wished the writers had utilized him more bcz good lord, he has so much potential as a character. We know Terry once mixed with the wrong crowd. However, Charlie's the only character from that part of Terry's past who made an appearance. Now, he was a pretty good antagonist (esp how he paralleled & subverted Bruce & Harvey's friendship) but at the end of it all, he's, again, the only character from that part of Terry's past that a wide audience got to see.

It would've been refreshing if July got to show up on the screen too bcz he would've been a perfect foil to Charlie in these 2 words.

Charlie -> greed July -> hope

July is one of the people Terry managed to successfully save. Whereas Charlie remained alone & went back to crime for personal gain; July was one of many who was pushed into it to support his family. However, unlike Charlie who manipulated & betrayed Terry's trust, when Terry offered July hope, he took it. He accepted Terry's hand & found himself standing on better ground with his own two feet.

If writers wanted to take it a step further, July could've been brought into the loop, having been inspired to pick up a Red Hood-esque mantle to help other ppl in his place (or remain a family guy, that works too. Man has a wife & 3 kids after all). Maybe Melanie & Jack could've bumped into him after they left the Gang, sensing kindred spirits in each other.

(Maybe he, Jack & his wife could've become a throuple bcz god knows that guy deserves love & a chance at a decent family after what his bio one put him through but that's a rare asf ship for another post on another day.)

Anyways, yeah. Batman Beyond has an amazing cast but this is one side character that has sadly remained unrecognized. I hope this post can change that.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Hi Cee

'Greys' has its Fan Fiction Birthday on 19th May 🎂

Happy birthday!

Tell us something about that fic, anything you like, and we'll help blow out the candles and wish it many happy returns!

You can save this ask until the actual date or reply whenever you like.

Yaaaaay it's my turn for fanfic birthday time! 🥰 I can talk about Frankie and Shiv all day long and I don't want to bore y'all - so putting most of it under the cut!

Just a note - I'm cheating a bit here. While the masterlist for Grays was posted in May 2023, the actual fic was posted on November 5 in 2022, but I'm only too happy to blow out 1.5 candles for Frankie and Shiv!

Grays' backstory is my favourite out of all my fics. I was at the hair salon one day, and the idea just struck me when I was waiting to have my hair washed - what if Frankie wanted to get his grays covered up, and his hairdresser said no?

The first thing I did, while I was still in the chair, was message @prolix-yuy, my Frankie soul sister and enabler. We pinged a few ideas back and forth, and the rest is history!

My favourite thing about Grays is the dynamic between Frankie and Shiv. I knew from the get-go that I wanted them to be not quite friends, with an antagonistic angle to their relationship. The fact that neither of them have thought about each other that way despite knowing each other since they were kids, and then being completely blindsided by the spark of attraction that happened over the forced proximity of the cut and wash session? It still makes me smile!

Out of all my reader characters, I would say Shiv has the strongest personality, and she's probably the closest thing I've written to an OC. It still blows my mind how loved she is by my readers, it really is the biggest compliment and I'm so proud to have created a character like her who stands on her two own feet, but is still relatable as a reader character.

As for Frankie, I just love the way he grew into his own in my head. I embrace the Frankie who's a bit rougher around the edges and has a grumpy streak, who can be sweet but isn't by default, at least not with Shiv. I love this boy soft, but with an edge, and Grays Frankie hits all the spots for me.

To me, Grays in its existence as a two-parter is perfect just the way it is, and I'm happy to leave Frankie and Shiv where it ended. I've really enjoyed exploring an extension of them via the Shiv's Salons drabbles, and most recently, via a crossover with Seams, which was a bonkers idea, but the response really blew me away! So who knows, there may be more from them in a Seams AU at some point in the future.

But for now, they live happily ever after, in every universe as long as they have each other ❤️ Thank you for letting me ramble about these two, I love love this fanfic birthday idea!

[memorystormsanctuary]

Day 4~ Alternate Universe

Even in a world where everything changes, some things stay the same. For today’s @khoc-week prompt of Alternative Universes there were plenty of places to go. After all, the prompt opens up almost anything. And for Y I’ve always had a few alternative paths for her to take. So I will be taking advantage of this prompt and exploring Y going down a darker path following the loss of her heart.

In this timeline, once Y lost her heart and became a Heartless, she became truly heartless. With the loss of her friends weighing on her, and anger at Xehanort and many others, she becomes a problem for pretty much everyone. She acts as an antagonist the Destiny Trio must face before they can begin their fight against Xehanort. She has no problems dragging worlds into the darkness if it suits her mood and commands the Heartless beneath her to destroy everything. All she seems to want is to watch the world burn. But with all the changes to her, there are some things that stay the same.

It was boring, waiting for them to come to her. She sat lounged on the tall chair; throne more like, but she wasn’t particular about what it was called. Her head hung over one arm, her legs over the other arm kicking idly. They were almost here, at least in the fortress she had claimed for her own. So what was taking them so long? She had even called back most of the Heartless. There couldn’t be much standing in their way.

The doors to the room swung open, as if reading her mind. She turned her head to the door hardly moving otherwise.

“We’re here to stop—you,” the brown-haired boy said, his voice failing as he looked around the room. As his attention came to rest on Y, she let a grin spread across her face. “Huh?”

“Hm, I’ll give you a B, for performance,” Y said, spinning herself to sit properly in the throne. One leg crossed over the other as she propped her arms on either side of her. “You started strong but kinda lost heart in it after a moment.” Sora only stared at her blankly, a look mirrored in the confusion on his two companions faces. Y couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her.

“This is where the Heartless leader is supposed to be,” Sora said slowly.

“You’re just a little girl?” Kairi said, seeming to be of the same thought as Sora.

“A tragedy, isn’t it?” Y said. “I lost my heart when I was 14. Haven’t really aged much, since most of my time has been here, in the realm of Darkness. So now your Heartless leader is just a little girl.” There was a moment of pause as the trio seemed to come to terms with that. Eventually Sora raised his keyblade taking what Y assumed was his fighting stance.

“Well, it doesn’t matter, we have to stop you,” Sora said.

“Nice try, but you won’t get far,” Y said, smiling brightly. She could see the way their thoughts raced, trying to make their understanding match what they saw in front of them. After all, she was far from the other villains they had fought. It was an area of pride for her.

She got to her feet with a little jump, still smiling as she looked down on them from above. Three against one. And all keyblade wielders. Sora was at the front, so he would probably be the head of all their attacks. Kairi was a step back from the boys, her footing unsure as she held her keyblade. Riku seemed the surest in his footing, his keyblade raised beside him; though his wrist seemed a little low for the stance he was taking.

Sora rushed up the stairs, leading the charge just as Y predicted he would. She quickly jumped aside, down the stairs to be on even footing with the other two. She grinned as she brought her hand up and pointed it towards Kairi.

“Firaga,” Y said. The blast of fire was probably larger than it needed to be. Kairi barely brought up her keyblade in time to defend herself. A mental note was made as Y side stepped another attack from Sora. Riku had run to Kairi’s aid, keeping her on her feet. Y twisted out of the way of Sora’s slashes, each one following the same pattern. With a twirl she pointed at Sora.

“Light!"

Holding in her laugh at his blank facial expression as the beams of light left her hand was almost impossible. His friends called his name, just in time for him to block the magic and skid back from Y again. She tutted as she brushed her hair over her shoulder.

“Don’t lose focus,” Y chided, wagging her finger. “I don’t want you guys breaking before the game really starts.”

Riku came at her next. She swerved out of the way of his hit, holding out her hand to call her weapon to her.

The harsh clang of a keyblade meeting another echoed through the room.

Y twisted her wrist effortlessly, removing Riku’s key from his hand at least for a moment. This time she couldn’t hold in her laugh at their shocked expressions.

“How can you have a keyblade!?” Sora demanded.

“Same way you do, someone passed it on to me,” Y said, chuckling as she swung her blade. “Well, not quite I guess. I don’t think either of us had a succession ceremony. Riku got his from Terra. And Kairi might have hers because of a little accident when we met. But I don’t know how you got yours, Sora.”

The trio all moved together this time. Y easily stepped out of the way of Kairi’s clumsy hit only to be tossed between Sora and Riku. She hissed as she moved away, holding her key steady with trained precision, something none of them could claim to have. Finding her footing took too long and she was soon trading blows with the three in turn. Each block was accompanied by a hit from the other side. Her teeth grit together.

“Holy,” Y hissed, holding her key up. The bright light that shot down was enough for the trio to all jump away from her. While they blinked away the spots she darted forward, finding Riku on the side. She brought her key down on his wrist holding his key as quickly and with as much force as possible. His sharp cry as he dropped his key once again told her she had accomplished her goal. He would be impaired. At least for a moment.

“I don’t understand, if you’re a user of light why are you fighting us!?” Riku demanded from where he crouched on the ground supporting his wrist. “Do you want to see Xehanort win?”

“Far from it,” Y hissed. The rage was boiling over inside of her now. They dared to say his name. To remind her of his very existence when she was having so much fun. “I’m going to take everything from that monster. His victory he’s worked so hard for. I’m going to take it all from him.”

“How does fighting us accomplish that?” Riku asked.

“He can’t have his war without the pieces,” Y said, laughing as she twirled in place. She turned away from Riku, her eyes focusing on Sora now. “First, I destroy all the guardians. At least the ones he hasn’t destroyed yet. Then I remove the Princesses of Heart from the field.” She smiled as she motioned to Kairi. “You can use your imagination how I’m going to do that. And then I will pick off his vessels one by one. And when it’s just him, I rip out his heart and crush it in my hand. Oh, or I can just attack him from behind. The same way he killed my Master. I’ll make sure I’m the last thing he sees as I rip his dream away from him. I’ll destroy everything left that he cares about.”

“And then what? When there’s nothing?” Riku asked. Y paused for a moment to consider, humming as she tapped her chin.

“Then, whatever I guess. I don’t really care,” she admitted. “I’ll just do whatever I want and see what happens with no protectors of the world order. It might be interesting. After all, order is boring. I’d rather see chaos.”

[bisous-valtteri]

Please can we have some body worship with bottom!Val and Daniel? Just need someone to love on the soft squish ❤️

okay here's the annoying thing. i think that, for every possibility in which i can imagine daniel as a nervous and awkward fuck for valtteri, too inhibited by his own crush, i can also imagine other possibilities. daniel very much wants, at times, to convey that loose, laidback stoner type of ease, that cocky sureness that comes from being able to back it up. and i can imagine that world. i can imagine a late night, ice cubes melting at the bottom of empty cups, lights and eyelids low, the last two men standing at a party, except they're not standing, they're sitting. on a couch. a big couch. and at first, there was ample distance between them. but sip by sip, daniel edges closer and closer, one sorta sleazy smile at a time. it's not going how daniel expected but in a pleasant, positive way. valtteri doesn't turn his cheek. he doesn't roll his eyes. he doesn't push off the arm that daniel slings over his shoulders on the couch. he doesn't look at daniel with any confusion whatsoever about their new closeness.

as much as i know he's a fucking dork, i can imagine a world where daniel is smooth enough to murmur in valtteri's ear: "you're kinda foldin' like paper, bottas. it's interesting."

"i wasn't playing a game," valtteri says, because he's not dismissive but he's also not a pushover. he's never not himself. "what is interesting?"

daniel blinks. he's loose but he's paying attention. there's something like satisfaction settling in his stomach. he knows. he knows they're going to fuck tonight. he nods at valtteri's cup. "you're out of drink but you haven't gotten up."

valtteri looks at him sideways but it's not with suspicion. "how's that interesting?"

no, it's not suspicion. and valtteri may not be playing a game but daniel knows when he's being tested.

he smiles, again, a grin he feels creep slowly until it's taken over his whole face. "i didn't expect it, that's all," he says, "that you'd still be here. that you'd still want to be here." when valtteri doesn't respond but neither rebuffs it, he finds he can't help himself: "you wanna be here," he says, quiet and a little antagonistic, "you like it here. with me."

valtteri shifts under daniel's arm. their knees are touching: bone, skin, denim, denim, skin, bone. "you smell good," valtteri says, the verbal equivalent of a shrug, and, "there are worse places i could be."

daniel laughs. it feels good, the uninhibited quake of his body, the loud noise interrupting the relative silence around them. he takes his time calming again, wheezing a little for effect. "ahh.... valtteri." he pronounces it it right, this time, or as right as he can. as he's practiced. "what about i make it the best place you could be, instead?"

valtteri shakes his cup; the melting ice cubes are still solid enough to clatter gently. "how about you stop being all talk, daniel?"

and that? that's daniel's favorite thing--to be underestimated. to be chalked up as all talk. if only because he knows, in excruciating detail, exactly how much he's not. a killer smile. rising to his feet. pulling valtteri up by his hand. buzzing under his skin with this confidence, this belief that he's about to take valtteri apart.

i can imagine this world. where daniel is less faux joy for a camera and more dedicated focus to his craft. the craft of undressing valtteri and melting him between his tattooed hands, with far fewer words than anyone would expect of him and much more devotion. of finally, finally, finally getting valtteri on his back for him. belly up for him. skin and hair and crests of bone and swells of muscle and meridian lines an atlas for him to explore with fingers, with teeth, with tongue.

i can imagine how he'd have the patience, in a scenario like this, a dream scenario for him. how he wouldn't let the chance go to waste. how he'd press into valtteri's soft parts, lave kisses down his body, nibble at the little mound of flesh and muscle below his belly button until there's a red mark in the shape of his adoration. nosing down his happy trail, so rarely left unshaven, and back up again. i can imagine valtteri's skepticism diminishing with every knead of his body in daniel's fingers, every touch of wet lips. in another world, he'd give daniel shit for this. for being romantic like this. for going too slow like. in another world, he'd ask what dan is stalling for. in this one, he's surprised by the attention. the patience. the lack of stupid jokes. he's surprised by how good it feels, to lie back and just be. lavished.

"you look good," daniel mumbles between valtteri's lower ribs, "you look better than you've ever looked," he skims his hot mouth up to kiss a nipple, "it drives me fucking crazy." and the thing is, it's the truth. valtteri in this season of his life looks full and saturated and happy, a welcomed coloring in of the hard, thin outline he used to be.

valtteri has to bite his tongue to avoid making a sound he'd prefer not to make. at least, not yet. the gold chain daniel's wearing around his neck drags over valtteri's skin as he moves.

"can i fuck you?" daniel asks, the question hidden in a kiss to valtteri's clavicle.

in another world, valtteri might say i don't know, can you? but in this one, he's reduced to basic truths: "yes." he arches his back, snuggles his shoulder blades more firmly underneath himself. "but it may take a while for me. to finish." because they're 34 now. because he's been drinking. because he jerked off on facetime with tiffany earlier today.

"all good," daniel purrs, already moving, changing position, "i don't mind if it takes forever."

and the thing is, this side of the evening, valtteri actually believes him.

[lydiaas]

I really feel like belly is being manipulated by Jeremiah into feeling something for him. Like he’s following her like a lost puppy constantly shitting on Conrad in front of her, the show is actually really showing how toxic Jeremiah is being. On a serious note I don’t like it for the younger audience, it’s shitty red flag behaviour.

I see this opinion a lot. I think he's so blinded by this constant competition he feels he is in with Conrad and his grief and the expectations he has on him to be the happy go lucky sunshine boy that he behaves in ways that are really questionable. Sabotaging Belly and Conrad in S1 only to turn around be angry when it didn't work out for him, the constant attacks on Conrad's character, icing Belly out and then being angry she wasn't there for him, being so hot and cold with her. I tend to avoid saying he's manipulating her, because it feels really intentional and sinister, but I do think the end result is the same in that it punishes Belly and makes her question her choices.

Although, I also think it makes complete sense that Belly has feelings for him and I don't think she needs to be manipulated into those. He's one of her closest friends and she is attracted to him. When the writers lean into that part of their relationship it's much more enjoyable because you can see the connection.

Which brings me to what I think is maybe the biggest flaw this season: Rather than setting Jeremiah up as a compelling love interest for Belly (and I know many would disagree with me on this point because they do have shippers) they have instead focused on how he is the antagonist to Conrad. Whether we are talking about Jeremiah or Belly's feelings, all roads lead back to Conrad. And I think that's a shame because there are a lot of reasons why Jeremiah would work as a partner for Belly but they don't allow that to really flourish. We see flickers of it but pretty quickly Jeremiah brings Conrad into it again. I hate love triangles so far be it from me to encourage more competition but they need to let the relationship between Belly and Jeremiah to stand on it's own two feet. At this point, Jeremiah has way too much resentment for Conrad and Bellyconrad to be the right partner for her.

[cherryblossomsandhydrangeas]

Sk8 Rewatch Ep8

No, Adam, there is no one is the world who was created just for you. You’re looking for a doll/plaything, not a human being.

See, now that? That’s a moon. I don’t know what the hell that was from Ep6.

Wow, there are a lot of fruits at S.

Shadow: He’s [Reki] scared to race against Adam. *Laughs* Shadow, you’re the one who took him to the hospital and visibly sighed in the relief that he was okay.

Love how the people on the left are standing as far away from Adam as possible. Notice, how the people on Miya’s side are a bit closer as well since they’re not within Adam’s reach.

You know I think I’d be able to feel a bit more sympathy for Adam if his aunts version of love was the only one he knew. But that’s not what happened. He was loved by Tadashi, Kaoru, and Kojiro all normally, so it’s not like he doesn’t know other forms of love, this is all very much a choice.

Another reason I can’t feel sympathy is his pedophilia. Like, Adam believes that Langa is his Eve, right? Which means they’ll soon go to The Zone/Eden/The World Only For The Two Of Us. So, why is he excited for Miya to “bloom” so he can fall in love with him. Any sympathy you could have possibly gotten from me was destroyed with that comment.

Another post I’m gonna make is Cherry’s relationship with Carla and how fandom mischaracterizes it a bit.

I’m most definitely making a post on how Cherry couldn’t beat Adam, but he was able to match him. Like, I think it will be my life’s work for this blog. (other than the fanfics I’m planning)

Ah, Tadashi, this was you at your best. I’m so sorry about the ending you got.

Aww, my poor boys.

As a person who is also a little sister, I understand Koyomi on a fundamental level.

One thing I don’t like is how the show tries to present Ainosuke’s aunts as a consequence. Like, it’s formula is: Adam hurts someone or harasses a child, but he still has to go home to his aunts! Ainosuke’s aunts are not a consequence, they are his backstory. They don’t abuse him because of his actions, they are the cause of his mentality. The only consequence he might have gotten was jail for perjury and other illegal acts, but that was shoehorned away. Some of this can be explained by Sk8 being 12 eps long, thus not given enough time to add more fundamental scenes, but god, I would have loved at least one scene where Ainosuke does anything antagonistic, faces a consequence, and it isn’t brushed off by him or thrown away by the narrative, thus staying with him for the rest of the story.

I know Tadashi probably has/had romantic feelings for Ainosuke, but honestly I can’t see them as having anything other than a platonic or familial bond, or, at the very least an unrequited one where one has romantic feelings and the other has familial/platonic.

One day I am going to make a post about how Tadashi was abused by the Shindos (including Ainosuke) just as much as Ainosuke himself was.

Shout out to Joe for doing the work Reki’s father cannot since he has to work away from home all the time!

Mom of the year! Hasegawa Nanako!

Ngl, I want Harry’s backstory. My man’s made it to the tournament no problem. Note: he had to have been the second person from Cherry’s bracket to win since we never saw anybody else cross during that run.

Sometimes I feel like Adam dislikes Joe. Like he goes “...Joe” because he’s Langa’s opponent instead of him, but I wonder if that bled over into their adolescence. Like, he wrote Joe’s name on the 3 of diamonds. I can’t help but wonder if he was also subtly calling him a third wheel like he does Reki later.

Shout out to Joe for doing the work Langa’s father cannot since he’s in a coffin six feet under in Canada!

I actually like how Joe still has a sliver of hope left for Adam, even though he probably wants to punch him more for Cherry’s sake than his own, he still cares for his old friend a tiny bit.

[artistfingers]

do you already have a scenario of how danny fenton "officially" meets sam and tucker in the no one knows au?

[Undercover Phantom AU]

!! yes, I do!! i'm hoping to comic it once I'm done with part 4 of how they meet Phantom. here’s some rambles which turned kinda into a fic?? it got longer than intended (o゜▽゜)o☆

✧✧✧✧✧

interior: casper high. sometime in fall, but inching towards winter. danny's trudging the hall, half asleep, when a familiar voice snaps his head up. Who could be passing by, discussing their various theories on when and where Phantom lived, other than Sam and Tucker? Yeah. it’s Sam and Tucker.

Danny's a bit freaked seeing them here in his supposedly average, every-day life. somehow it never occurred to him they might attend the same school as him. Never mind the fact they all live in the same city and are the same age, and. it’s not like Casper’s the only school around here. right? At least it explains one thing—how quickly they saw through his shoddy Danien disguise. They’d seen Phantom at least seventy-six times at Casper during freshman year (yes, he’d counted). if they can recognize Phantom in a heartbeat when he’s Danien, they can probably do it again when he’s Fenton.

Oh, god. they’re practically five feet away from him. now three. He’s gotta duck into a classroom or something, no, a cleaning closet, wait should he risk turning invisible? —when his ghost sense goes off in the same split second the ceiling bursts open and the screaming begins. he reacts like he always does: adrenaline and ecto-energy pump through his veins and he’s off like a shot towards the threat. only this time a hand snags him by the hoodie and yanks him into the world history classroom before he can even break out a full sprint.

he freezes like a deer in the headlights. There’s a cluster of other kids and a teacher already in here. it was Sam who’d nearly choked him on his own hoodie, and she shoves him out of the doorway pretty fast. “Where do you think you’re going?” she hisses. “The ceiling collapsed.”

“I know, I have to, uh, my locker…”

“Dude, your locker’s the least of your concerns right now.” That’s Tucker. He’s sliding a classroom laptop out of one of those wheely charging cabinets and logging in at the speed of light. “Alright, Sam, I got eyes on the security footage! ...oof, this is gonna be a doozy.”

Sam peers over his shoulder. Danny edges towards the door. they both spear him with major glares before he can move more than half a step. danny’s seen those looks before. they’re usually reserved for when Phantom suggests something batshit insane for dealing with the monster of the week. he, instinctively, swallows whatever protests he was about to make.

when Sam and Tucker resume their surveillance (and oh my god are they making plans about how to fight this ghost?) Dash decides to make himself known.

“Oh, great,” he says with a showy guffaw. “The school’s falling to pieces and Geeky McGee thinks he can fight the threat with a chromebook.”

danny wishes he was anywhere but here right now. he should turn invisible. but... dash is glaring right at Sam and Tucker, who he’s standing right next to, and…

Tucker brushes dash off. dash keeps up his tirade, displeased and antagonistic, until Sam snaps at him; then everybody’s sent into a shaky truce of silence when the entire building rumbles, a few more walls somewhere else collapse into rubble, and a ghostly laugh echoes all around, calling for Phantom.

danny sweats. A lot.

and then sam pulls out a customized mini ecto-gun and darts towards the door.

“WHERE did you GET THAT,” danny yelps.

“Don’t worry about it,” sam says, preoccupied as she peers out into the hall.

Tucker leans over and whispers to him. “We made it.”

“YOU MADE IT?”

“Don’t worry, we tested it this time.”

“This time,” danny echoes faintly.

“Tucker, what’s our proximity?”

“We’re in the green for now.”

They’re effective. danny is both proud and horrified. he also really needs to leave. “I’m gonna—”

“Don’t you dare,” sam shuts him down.

“Can I just—”

“No.”

“The bathroom—”

“NO.” this time Tucker practically harmonizes with Sam.

Danny groans. Dash guffaws again. “Can’t even hold it during a ghost attack, Fenton?”

“maybe you should go to a doctor,” kwan suggests.

Danny groans slightly louder, then realizes both tucker and sam are now giving him more attention than before, as if he needed any more attention than they were just giving him.

“Fenton?” Sam asks slowly.

“Like Fentonworks Fenton?” Tucker asks. he is much more excited than Sam.

“No, like the other Fenton,” danny grumbles.

“Oh.” tucker deflates.

Danny groans for a third, and certainly not final, time. “Yes like Fentonworks Fenton!” then like the bolt of inspiration that never comes during algebra tests, he hurries to add, “you know, like the ghost hunters? Listen, I know a thing or two about ghosts. if you’re trying to do something about this ghost—” which, shit, danny didn’t even have time to figure out who’s gallivanting around or why “—then let me help.”

Sam and Tucker share a considering look. Tucker does a short gesture with one hand to his forehead and the other out. Sam returns with a different one. Danny watches them go back and forth for a long, confused moment, as their hands fly, before Sam seemingly loses their non-verbal argument with a huff.

“alright,” she says, turning a fully unwarranted glare on danny. “You can help. But it’s conditional. Start talking.”

✧✧✧✧✧

(9/8/21: there is now a follow up comic!)

[bokettochild]

A Hero Protects His Own - Part 1

Ao3

AU is by @ryssbelle I just write for it!!!! Go check them and their awesome AU out!!!!

..........................................................................................................................

Loud.

It’s loud and the camp is overwhelmingly tense as Legend screams harsh words in a language Twilight doesn’t understand. The others sit in silence, either burying their heads in their hands or trying their hardest to ignore it while Sky stares cold and impassive at the vet.

He shrinks back into his hood.

He’s fought the worst of the worst; monsters, evils, shadows and nightmares from realms beyond what the others will ever know, but somehow hearing his brothers screaming at each other like this is what it takes to make him shiver and shrink back.

Or maybe it’s the steel in Sky’s eyes.

He’s tried to separate them, tried to stop Legend antagonizing the Chosen Hero, and for a while he even thought it worked! Sky and Legend had bonded some after what the three of them refer to as “the bunny incident” Legend with a fierce blush and Sky and himself with grins and teasing. The vet would tease them, stand at their side and back them up, and they would do the same for him. That’s just the power of secrets, sharing them makes you closer to other people.

But then they’d been dropped in Legend’s world. They’d come to the veteran’s Hyrule and spent a day at his house and gone out to the forest with Ravio to investigate something strange that the merchant had seen. When they'd come to the cozy cottage, Sky had been teasing Legend and receiving playful jabs in return, but the next morning when everyone woke up there was stone cold silence between the two, Ravio overcome with nervous energy that, to their collective shock, had earned him some rather sharp words from the Skyloftian when the merchant had gotten them lost in the woods.

From there it got worse.

Legend and Sky are almost always at each other's throats now, icy blue and raging indigo burning into each other as Time has struggled to keep them separate, neither willing to explain their spat and Ravio to overcome to even attempt it.

The bunny merchant clings to Warriors even now, their scarves wrapped over the both of them and tying them together as Warriors paints the merchant’s nails, speaking softly and recounting adventures the two had apparently shared in an attempt to distract him from the shouting that fills the camp and the heated stares being shot between two heroes.

Sky’s hand grips the hilt of the Master Sword where it lies in his lap and Legend’s fist at his sides while he stands over the older hero, face twisted up in an ugly expression as he spews words Twilight knows he doesn’t want to understand.

“Make it stop.” Four whimpers, head buried in his side as the smithy’s shoulders tense further with each word. “It hurts.”

“Guys-” He tries, he really does, to be firm, but when there's so much anger already in the air, he knows that yelling will only do so much good, and when Sky’s sharp eyes meet his, usually so gentle and dreamy but now flashing with lightning and shadowed in thunderclouds, it’s all he can do to keep his voice low enough to not worsen things for Four.

“You’re hurting Four.” Time scolds.

Legend’s mouth snaps shut, Sky’s hands twitching as the two both look over the miserable bundle against his side.

“Fine.” Legend snaps, crossing his arms and looking away.

“Apologies.” Sky nods.

It’s easy to believe Sky will be a king one day when he acts like that. There’s no doubt that their usually sleepy friend can rule and command when he sits poker straight, actions clipped as his words and tone deep enough to rival times when he speaks. Gone are the gentle words and reassuring smiles, instead replaced with regal nods and flashing silver eyes. The war cape that usually warms shivering heroes on cold nights is a cape, and the halo cast over the Skyloftian’s honey-hair is a crown in the firelight.

Twilight has to shift in his place.

Thank Ordonia the two both have a soft spot for the smithy, otherwise they’d be here all night! And, while he loves the wolf that nestles inside of his heart, he also hates how the wolf’s senses affect his own. Legend’s shrieks might be annoying to the others, but to himself and Four, they’re agonizing.

Then again, he has to muffle a strained chuckle as Legend stomps past on his way to his bedroll, which is as far as possible from Sky’s without Time raising his brows, rabbits do scream rather loudly, don’t they.

“Are they done?” Four’s eyes actually have tears in them when he looks up, face flushed and miserable as he peeks up out from under the tail end of the wolf pelt.

“Yeah.” He has to keep his voice low as he answers, Four’s headaches are well known to be absolutely awful, and he can’t help but gently pet the smithy’s hair in an attempt to comfort him.

Baby.

Twilight has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Four’s nearly an adult.

Baby. The wolf in his soul rumbles, and Twilight has to mentally restrain himself from pulling the little smithy into his arms and absolutely suffocating him with his fluffy pelt and arms as he holds him as tight as possible. He thinks Four once explained why they want to squeeze babies and small things so much, but he can’t be bothered to dig through all of the smithy’s rants about Hylian behavior in order to remember it.

It was something related to eating though, and the thought makes him wrinkle his nose.

“Good.” Four sighs, flopping fully against him and tugging the pelt over his eyes. “They do that again and I’m gonna slap them both. Jerks.”

A laugh rumbles through his chest as the wolf growls in approval.

Fierce baby. The Wolf laughs.

He’s close to our age. Twilight reminds himself. He jist looks small and young.

Never mind that the smithy has his childish moments, eyes glimmering red and warm as he laughs along with Wind as the two watch some prank or another play out. It’s always hard to tell if Four is just laughing at their misfortune or if he’s the reason for it and is reveling in his genius, because when questioned the smithy always looks so childishly innocent or entirely unimpressed. It’s a difficult thing to pin the blame on the smithy, and they’ve all quite given up. Except Sky.

Sky, who can read Four like a book and is currently shooting worried glances in the smithy’s direction, all fire and rage gone from crystal eyes when the Skyloftian catches sight of the smithy curled up beside him, only his legs and stockinged feet visible beneath the pelt. “Is he okay?”

Twilight nods. “Exhausted, fightin’ a bad headache, but he says it ain’t quite a migraine.”

The other hero nods with a wince. “You got him then?”

Oh definitely. This is his little brother! Of course, he can take care of him! “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

He’s feeling guilty.

They are close, he prob’bly just wants to help.

“You good, Sky?”

Crystal blue meets his slowly, a pained smile on his brother’s face as Sky settles down on his other side, reaching over quickly to gently pat Four’s knee before answering. “Yeah. Legend just-” Sky answers, running a hand through his hair with a huff of his puffed-out cheeks. “Vet’s a Hylia Blessed piece of work somedays!”

Laughter spills from him this time, and he can’t stop it even when Four pokes his side irritably. “That has got to be the nicest way I’ve e’er heard someone call another person an ass! Did you just say ‘Hylia blessed’?”

Sky rolls his eyes. “I love Legend same as any of you guys, he’s just...” Another heavy puff of breath, one that he didn’t know Sky could even manage with his asthma, billows out, ruffling the Skyloftian’s bangs as he motions to where Legend is sat with his back against Warriors, Twilight would almost dare to say that the vet is pouting as War reaches over to gently ruffle the vet’s hair fondly while Ravio chirps something nervous and encouraging at him.

“He can a bit difficult.” He finishes, but Sky shakes his head fiercely.

“That’s not it! I deal with difficult people all the time! My best friend was the biggest ass I knew before he stopped trying to one up me and started to actually help. I can handle a bit of sass and snark, I mean, look at us!” Sky exclaims, motioning to the camp and everyone in it.

“Keep it down!” Four hisses. “Headache!”

“Sorry.” He choruses with Sky as the smithy glares up at the both of them before retreating back underneath the protective shade of his wolf pelt.

“It’s not the grouchiness, or the snark.” Sky explains softly, blue eyes pained as they glance at Legend. “We’re just. We have very different opinions about some things.” He’s about to say something when Sky cuts him off, eyes glistening softly in the fire as he stares across at the pouting vet. “I get that he doesn’t care for the goddesses. I’m not happy with it, but I can respect his opinions; they’re valid as much as mine are, and he has his reasons to feel the way he does. But some things-” The Skyloftian shakes his head fiercely, eyes going stony again. “Some things aren’t open for discussion like faith and beliefs. Hard, cold facts can’t be denied, no matter how much Legend would like to.”

There’s a bite in Sky’s voice again, and it makes him flinch back. Beneath his pelt, Four’s fingers clench his tunic, the smithy stiff as a board again. He sneaks an arm around the younger hero, squeezing gently in reassurance as he follows Sky’s gaze to the trio opposite them, where Legend is glaring at a laughing Warriors while Ravio giggles softly along, the three melting back into their seamlessly antagonistically friendly behavior around each other.

“Legend’s smart. But he’s also blind.” Sky bites out bitterly. “And it’s just gonna get him hurt.”

He’s about to ask what Sky means, but at that very moment Wild jumps up from sitting beside Time, ears pricked and eyes wide as a hoarse-shout rings from his cub’s throat. “Monster attack!”

Monsters.

The growl rumbles in his chest as he pulls himself to his feet, Four following with a groan and Sky already sprinting across the camp with the Master Sword drawn and in hand.

The monsters are on them before most of them even have a chance to draw their blades.

Mindless beasts swirl about, blocking his vision of the others as he dances through them, fending off any headed towards the suffering smithy while simultaneously trying to carve a path for himself and Four to where the others are.

“Eyes out for the black one!” Warriors voice rises over the din of blades crashing and monsters squealing, all of the playfulness of the moment before replaced with the practiced calm and clipped tones of a soldier.

“Aye Captain!” Wind shouts back, followed by Wild and Time, the only one’s accustomed to a soldier’s commands, as they thrust themselves into the battle.

The monsters swarm thicker and thicker, but in every spare second, he keeps his eyes open, searching the crowd for the black lizalfoes that’s been the source of so much of their trouble lately. Nothing can be seen save monster after monster of the normal sort, their blood streaking red across the dirt, thin and weak as bodies fall with more ease than any of their previous battles.

“These ‘blins are red blooded!” He calls out. “Keep your guards up! They strong one’s are prob’bly holdin’ back!”

The Ordon Sword sings through the air, but despite his own warning, the monsters are already starting the thin. More stream in from the forest, but they runabout wild like any old ‘blins and lizards, none of the intelligence or strength of their corrupted cousins making an appearance so often recently. The same can be said of the black lizalfoes; no one can spot it, there’s no flash of black in the crowd save for his own pelt as he spins and stabs, dancing easily along to Warriors’ side.

“Any sign?” The captain pants out, parrying an enemy blade and thrusting forwards to skewer the moblin before him.

“None.” He heaves back, raising his shield against his own opponent and pushing back against the spear that embedded it inside. “Have you seen Four? I lost him in the mob?”

The words are hardly out of his mouth before a scream, all too harsh and broken sounded across the field. “Sky!”

Midnight meets royal blue as soldier and rancher lock eyes for all of a moment before swinging out with all their might at their enemies, razing them low and clearing their vision long enough to stare over the field.

Four is clutching at his sword arm, eyes wide and staring as they looked to where Sky has been cast onto the ground a few paces away, thrown by the force of a blow that no doubt had been headed for the smithy himself. No ordinary monster could land a blow on Sky unless he was rushing to someone else’s rescue, and the guilt already filtering into the smithy’s eyes was all that is needed to confirm the thought.

The Master Sword lies on the forest floor, to far from Sky for the knight to grasp it as he pulls himself to his knees, enemies already baring down on him from all directions.

“Sky!” Twin voices shout.

Flying-Heart!!!! The Wolf screams inside of him, pushing his feet forwards to charge to Sky’s side.

Red flashes before him, swirling fabric, the color of aged blood and wine, a hood like a poe’s drawn up over a being’s head, a single blackened hand reaching out from beneath, red swirling over clawed fingers as Sky’s breath comes heaving from his lungs, side bleeding from the blow that had downed him.

A voice, neither high nor low but pitched in such a way that none could hear quite what was being said, murmurs something as the power on the blackened hand pulses.

Monsters rage around the hero and poe-like being, but none step closer to Sky, although their eyes trail to him eagerly every so often when Heroes, desperate to save their brother, aren’t hacking through their numbers.

A moblin rises before Twilight, blocking his vision for precious seconds before a roar built in his chest and his sword cleft the being in two. The second was enough though. Sky’s scream sounds over the field, harsh and grating and agonizing! The wolf throbs inside of him, tearing at the walls of his mind as he attempted to press through the creatures keeping him from his brother.

“Get back you-” Legend’s words are cut off sharply by Time’s scream of rage as the biggoron sword swings and fells three monsters at once. The Master Sword gleams in Legend’s hands as he launches himself at the being, teeth set and eyes flashing as he swings down, making the red-cape dart back as the pink-haired hero came to a halt between hero and monster, Sky’s weakening breath ringing over the field.

The vet’s eyes flash to meet his for only a moment. “Kick ass! We need to end this!”

A firm nod, the wolf is already raging inside him and he gave it full control as his blade and shield fend off and fell enemy after enemy, their screams and blood running over him like the air itself, so little he cares for them. His only job now is to beat back the monsters, give Legend space to work, keep Sky safe.

Beat the monsters.

Give Legend space to wreak havoc.

Protect Sky.

Beat the monsters.

Give Legend space to wreak havoc.

Protect Sky.

Beat the monsters.

Give Legend space to wreak havoc.

Protect Sky.

Like a dirge of war, the wolf’s thoughts swirl with his own, red clouding his vision as the Ordon Sword severs limbs and head and cleft bodies in two. Feet dance the war stomps of bloodlust as eyes flash with the golden of the wolf.

“Portal!” Wild screams over the din of the monsters falling. “Hylia’s!” His pup sounds strained, rage and terror mixing in a cocktail of fury as arrows plunge into the enemy and weapons fly loose across the Champion’s personal battle space, an area where even the monsters drew back in fear while the rest of the heroes give the youngster ample space to cause chaos.

Sure enough, the portal’s golden power is sweeping across the field, the faint brush of feathers over their cheeks and shoulders and the whisper of warmth and honey as the goddess’s strength flows over the field.

“Legend, watch out!” Hyrule’s cry cuts through, and Twilight only has enough time to see the blackened hand swing forwards and catch hold of Legend’s tunic before the golden glow of the shift swept it all away.

[hannahstarshade]

Mushrooms, Mycelium, and Mycorrhiza

I’m getting even deeper into the YuuriVoice lore thanks to Clain’s theory post on Twitter. Please go check it out when you can. They put a ton of work into it. I live for this shit. One thing that stuck out to me was the mention of the red cap mushroom from The Garden of Finn. It’s a minor plot element in a cute one-shot, and very important to Bunny Finn. Clain brought up that these particular mushrooms are seen on Storyteller Finn’s staff as well. It’s a piece of symbolism that is easy to miss. If The Last of Us, Resident Evil, and Mexican Gothic have taught me anything, it’s that mushrooms are horrifying and are not to be trusted.

Mycelium are the small threads that link mushroom colonies together. Once they take root, the fungi thrive and grow. As time goes on, these colonies become larger, sprouting new bodies. Through this system, the mushrooms are one collective, both individual and together. In the 2021 Teaser, Storyteller Finn claims he is both a protagonist and an antagonist. While oftentimes this line of thinking signifies a matter of perspective, in this case it could be a hint at Finn’s omnipresence and duality. In Hiking & Honeysuckle, Finn shows signs of being distant and dreamy as he talks about the forest. When explaining honeysuckle, he says "There's power in language, I think, but even more so in what we ascribe to those words...Sometimes there's a deeper meaning, and sometimes it's just a honeysuckle...Today, I am just a honeysuckle." We can draw the conclusion that while he is all versions of Finn, he is the one who owns a flower shop in this instance.

Mushrooms survive by degrading organic matter. Through the mycelium, they gain water, nitrogen, carbon and other minerals from another plant. This creates a mycorrhizal network. Mycorrhiza is a mutually symbiotic relationship between the colony and another organism. In terms of Finn, this could insinuate the nature of his relationship with the Listener. Without the Listener--without the Dreamers--Finn ceases to exist. Bunny Finn states “I believe that in essence, I am here because you wanted me to be. And perhaps you are here because I too wanted you to be...Your desire gives me more strength than you know.” This could be supported by some instances where different fragments of Finn hold the Listener in such high regard. They give him a reason for living. On the flip side, the Listener is a character in and of themselves, as well as a stand-in for the general audience. We the audience love these characters, and seek them out for our own reasons. Whether it’s for comfort or for entertainment depends on the Listener.

In the bunny video, it’s implied that the red cap he’s looking for has eluded him. It knowingly hid itself away, escaping the collective. This has a few implications, the most obvious of which being Yandere Finn. He broke away from the standard Finn mold (sweet, naïve, etc) and revealed a more sinister side to the character’s nature. After being plucked from the garden, he can do nothing more than wait for another opportunity. Maybe the single mushroom represents a version of Finn we haven’t seen, like an older brown-eyed gentleman who visits Alphonse in Boy Toy in Wonderland. Old and warry from the many paths he’s lead or seen, or maybe just making himself appear as such. The allusions the two videos share is definitely noteworthy. The last possibility could have something to do with Faust. There’s a connection between him and Finn that has yet to be revealed. We’ll have to wait and see on that one.

TLDR: We can glean three things from the mushroom symbolism: 1) All versions of Finn are valid and coexist. 2) Finn’s existence heavily relies on the Listener/Dreamers. 3) There is a fragment of Finn that has gone rogue.

Character and scripts written by Yuurivoice Artwork created by Jackie Eleanor Underground Networking: The Amazing Connections Beneath Your Feet

[koutarouthighs]

『 champagne bubbles 』

S U M M A R Y ― drunken words expose sober thoughts, and what do these boys have to say when their heart is too soaked in liquor to dull their filter?

post type ➺ headcanons fandom  ➺ haikyuu!! characters  ➺ tsukishima ⧾ kageyama ⧾ atsumu  genre ➺ fluff; slight nsfw (sensual themes) tags ➺ established relationship; alcohol; language; pda; lotsa touchy drunk boys;  word count ➺ 2.2k+ request ➺ [YES/NO] ; anonymous requested “could you maybe write drunk!tsukki being really sweet to his gf? like calling her pretty and being super sweet?”     ↳ request status: *.·:·.✧ O P E N ✧.·:·.*

✕ tsukki doesn’t really like to get drunk, because he’s more of a spectator. he enjoys watching everyone else lose their wits so he can poke fun at them for it, sarcastically asking them a dozen questions just to video their answers to bring it up when they’re sober.  ✕ but, with kuroo betting tsukki that he can drink him under the table, his obstinate personality has no option other than to meet his old friend’s challenge. what he doesn’t know is that kuroo never planned to win, not even from the start.   ✕ when you see tsukki later, you’re confused with his wobbling frame and garbled words. his eyes seem to cross behind his glasses, and when he approaches you, he’s got his arm around your shoulders in a flash. you’ve never seen him be so publicly affectionate, especially not in front of a group full of his old friends who knew him once as an antagonistic rival. ✕ tsukishima compliments your appearance, your voice, your dress. he talks about how lucky he is to have you and you swear you see his reddened eyes begin to blear with tears.  ✕ his hands cannot find a part of you he does not wish to explore further, always seeking but never finding solace. and finally he cups your cheeks and sloppily kisses your mouth, and you are so frozen in your stead that you do not have half a mind to kiss him back. 

more below the cut ↯

⧾

“you’re just so pretty,” his voice drawls, eyes blinking slowly as he uses the arm not slung around your body to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. the slightest of pouts tugs on his lips and you want to push yourself up on your toes to kiss him, but you know how he feels about public affection.

a small laugh makes your chest blossom and tsukishima tugs you closer, your body engulfed by his lanky yet thick arms. his bicep flexes as he runs his index and thumb against either side of your neck, “you are! i know i don’t tell you enough, but you are. you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

“kei,” you murmur as he drops his head to your shoulder, planting a quick kiss to your exposed collarbone. kuroo and akaashi widen their eyes at the sight, and you try to weave your fingers through tsukishima’s hair to get his attention, “kei, are you drunk?”

“yep!” kuroo’s voice is unmistakable, even from where he and akaashi, and now bokuto, are sitting in the kitchen, swiveling in their barstool seats, giggling to themselves. you narrow your eyes and hope that the glare you cut them is enough to not let them sucker him into anything like this again, knowing how much he will hate finding out about this when he’s sober. 

“we can go home,” you murmur in promise against his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek before settling back on your heels. tsukishima kisses the top of your head and wraps you back up again, tucking your head beneath his chin. he sighs, and you feel his chest deflate, “no, i like going out with you. i know i say i hate it, but i like that you want the world to know that you’re mine.”

you tilt your head back, raising a brow, ��tsukki, i’m not ashamed of you. never have been.” 

“no, i know,” he almost sounds stone cold sober for a second, and you blink to try and make sure you can reconcile what you’re hearing with what you’re seeing. “i just hope you know that i’m not ashamed of you. you’re kickass, and i can’t believe you let me call you mine.”

“of course,” and you feel your own voice growing heady without the influence of whiskey, “i love you.”

tsukishima, drunk or not, reaches down to frame your face with his hands and as if in slow motion, purses his mouth until you feel the bow of his lips meet your own. you flex your feet so you’re up on your toes, face heated at the sudden display of affection, disregard to who might see. his palms are expansive and warm, floating from your neck to your shoulders, down your arms until he finds the curve of your hips. his thumbs slip beneath the hem of your shirt and he sighs, parting his mouth from yours, “tell sober me to appreciate you more. he’s kind of an asshole.”

“yeah,” you lick your lips and read the hunger in his eyes, matching it with a fire in your own, “i’ll make sure to tell him in the morning.”

✕ kageyama believes that alcohol dulls the senses and takes his mind off of what is truly important - the next match. so, it’s kind of difficult to get him to indulge in a drink from time to time. but hinata always manages to spur him on, citing his days in brazil have made him the better consumer, and kageyama just can’t let that redhead best him at anything. ✕ you wish you had the effort to try and deter him from it, but watching kageyama turn loose and enjoy his time with his friends is so elating in it of itself that you don’t have the heart to try and drag him to a glass of water.  ✕ your face goes red when kageyama puts down his fourth glass of rum and coke and turns his attention to you. eyes sheathed by half-hooded lids, lower lip consumed in the cage of his canine tooth as he sucks the slow drip of whatever drink did not make it to his tongue. ✕ the praise he dotes on you when he slots himself into the couch next to you is not unwelcome, and yet foreign and uncomfortable all the same. tobio is not unknown to shower you in kindness when you are alone, and when he can gather his words and his spirits, but now, in front of his friends and rivals from high school, it all feels a little out of place. ✕ his hand rests curiously high on your thigh, the other arm around your back to hold you close. he kisses your cheek and then your neck, warm breath smelling of the sweet concoction he’s downed one too many of in your absence.

⧾

“tobi,” you whimper when his thumb drifts against the seam of your jeans, manicured nails digging into the plush of your thigh, “a-are you drunk?”

“so what if i am?” his curt response is quick, just like always. you suppose even when drunk, he’s not completely unlike himself. your gaze meets his darkened irises, pupils dilating as he tries to focus on any one feature of your face. his tone softens as he looks at you a little while longer, “god, you’re beautiful.”

your expression must show how taken aback you are, because tobio’s nose scrunches and he looks like he’s eaten something sour, “have i never told you that before?”

“n-no, you have,” you shake your head to bring your wits about you, “it’s just weird to hear it in front of all your friends.”

kageyama shakes his head and straightens his spine, palm falling down to your shoulders to massage at the blade of your back, “well, it’s the truth. in front of my friends or at home. y-you’re pretty.”

you can’t help but laugh at his wavering voice, another wave of drunkenness bringing out a shy side of him that you’re used to seeing from time to time. you lean across the space between your bodies and press a kiss to his cheek, “you’re adorable, tobi. especially when you’re drunk.”

“d-do you need anything?” he asks, the palm on your thigh finding your hand to squeeze your knuckles between his own, “water? another drink?”

you nod, brushing dark hair back from his face to his ear so you can see his sapphire irises in full, “i could use some water, if you’re getting up. but you don’t have to get me anything, babe.”

tobio is standing to his feet as soon as you finish your sentence, eyes wide and hands still clutching at you, despite the distance, “of course!” and he is gone before you have another moment to draw him back in. biting your lip, you watch as he scrambles about the kitchen, but your attention is drawn away by the other girls sitting on the couch opposite of you. 

when kageyama returns, his arms are full, and his mouth is moving as if it were attached to a motor, “i got you two bottles of water and they had a can of that seltzer you like in the fridge so i got that too, and then i know where hinata hides the chocolate so i grabbed you a few pieces and then there’s also an apple in case you get hungry.”

you want to laugh, you desperately want to let your giggles escape, but you tamper them down to take the various items teeming in tobio’s hands. you reach up to cup his cheek, “you really do think of everything, don’t you, kags?”

“for you,” his voice sounds faraway, ethereal, “i’d do anything for you.”

✕ most nights after a long week of training, or a tournament with msby, atsumu spends time with bokuto and hinata and sakusa, and even osamu tags along, and they buy up tumugi, sake, and vodka until they can’t see themselves home. atsumu has the dd or a cab bring him home, and you can always tell by the way his steps stutter over the rug that he’s too far gone to even know you’re home. ✕ atsumu is a clumsy, most of the time loud, drunk. he forgets how lumbering his body is, how much he weighs, and how his head might hit the overhanging light in the living room if he’s not too careful. ✕ as soon as he spots you, curled up on the couch, his whole being softens. he licks his lips and calls your name, eyes shining when you finally make eye contact. he’ll call out for you again, asking for his girl. ✕ atsumu’s hands are insatiable as he fumbles over the top of you from where you lay, tucking his head into your neck and caging you in with his limbs. he likes the reminder of how big he is, how he can encompass your space with minimum effort. he seeks skin on skin contact while he can’t see straight, preferring to close his eyes and just feel you. ✕ he’ll mutter things into your soft skin and slip his hands underneath your shirt, but it’s nothing you haven’t heard already, only accented with giggles and blown raspberries along your body.   

⧾

“don’t you have a game tomorrow?”

“so what?!” he nips at your jaw, “what are you, my mother?!”

“that would make this a very strange position, wouldn’t it?” you snort, scratching your nails up the base of his back to his shoulders, his shirt riding up inch by inch. atsumu groans, dropping his head to your chest, circling his arms around your waist until he’s clinging onto you for dear life. he sighs and you try your hardest not to shiver at the feel of his warm breath over your bare skin.

he grunts, shifting his legs to get more comfortable, “osamu bet he could do three shots faster than me, and you know i’m the better twin, and i had to prove it, so i did it. and... and now’m here.”

another laugh makes its way out of your throat and you squeeze his shoulders, “that competition is going to get you in trouble one day. you can’t win everything.”

“i don’t gotta win everything,” atsumu licks his lips and takes a breath, craning his neck so he can look you in the eyes, “i already got you, don’t i?” you’re blushing but that doesn’t stop him, not when he’s on a drunken roll like this, “i mean, that’s about the best thing i ever coulda won.”

you twirl a finger in his hair to keep your hands busy, rolling your lips together as he rambles. atsumu pushes himself up further on your body so you’re eye-to-eye, the tip of his nose brushing up your cheek as he gets situated, “cause even when i lose a match, i still get to come home to you.”

the threatening heat of tears makes your eyes throb and you close them to get some relief. atsumu kisses both of your eyelids and then your nose, and your face scrunches at the overwhelming smell of vodka on his lips, but you don’t care, not when he’s being so kind and genuine. he cups your face with a palm, heady and calloused, and then kisses your cheek until your skin relaxes. he chuckles, “i mean it, sweetheart.”

“i know you do, ‘sumu,” your voice is thick and you clear your throat just after you speak. you finally peek your eyes open to look at him, and you almost wished you hadn’t. his umber irises melt into dark pupils, a warmth there that you cannot place, cannot describe. his skin is rosy, kissed by alcohol and emotion, and you just want to drown in him.

he noses your cheek and then captures your lips, soft kisses volleyed back and forth between the two of you as your hands roam and find supple skin and dense bone. lines blur between evening and morning, and words slur between the both of you.

and every time, as one breath ends and another begins, atsumu makes sure to show you that his words ring true, and his greatest win was always you.

[valdomarxxx]

Trying something a little different today for @whataboutthebard. Another tale. Another life, one that was lived by other people*. On the subject of sex pollen. Consent is freely given. A grand total of 3k words. Rated M/E. Enjoy, my darlings.

~

There is a shining golden band around Oswald’s finger. This is a recent development, and everywhere he goes people ask him about it. He wishes they wouldn’t. He should be happy, he knows; should be full of that fizzing, new-love excitement.

But he feels nothing. It had been a suggestion, paired with gentle pushing from his mother and significantly less gentle pushing from his father. He should have said no, he knows. He’s a bard, for fuck’s sake, he should have followed his truth or his desire or whatever the fuck it is artistic types are supposed to do.

But he didn’t say no. He said yes, because all he could think of was what the alternative might be. A life lived in solitude, forever. He’ll never have what he wants - who he wants - and perhaps it might not be so bad. Perhaps a loveless life shackled to another will be better than a loveless life alone.

The band squeezes his finger, cutting off the circulation.

It is Belleteyn eve. This should be the night for celebrating love. He’s horribly aware of this; and horribly aware that his fiance is elsewhere this evening. He should be more upset about that than he is. He wants to be alone.

He wants to be with him. Larkspur, they call him. It’s what he calls himself, having shrugged off the name his parents burdened him with when he was born.

Usually, Belleteyn is celebrated with bonfires and dancing and singing, mingling with crowds. Tonight, a party of perhaps a dozen artists have snuck from the city walls towards the forest a few miles beyond. They say that magic happens on Belleteyn night, and while there are a few cynics amongst their numbers, it promises to be a wonderful evening.

Larkspur leads the way - he’s well-versed in magic, he claims, thanks to his travels up and down the Continent.

“Who knows what could happen?” He trills, looking over his shoulder at the group. “Anything could happen.”

His gaze lands on Oswald. Often, that gaze is mocking or antagonistic. A threat. A challenge. Today, it’s like a question. Oswald doesn’t have time to probe before he’s looking away again with a laugh - a floating, melodic noise that makes Oswald’s skin tingle.

He nervously fingers at the band around his finger. His fiance has never met Larkspur. She would hate him. She would really hate him, not just in the way Oswald pretends to.

He’s struck with the sudden urge to tear away the maddening ring and hurl it into the Pontar.

But he doesn’t, of course.

The forest beyond the city is wide and dark and sprawling. Oswald cannot help but feel nervous as they step between the trees, looking for seasonal chaos. He sniffs cynically at Larkspur’s assertions that anything could happen; he is sure he knows what will happen. Drinking and laughing and singing. He has already picked out the couples in the group that he is sure will sneak away for more traditional Belleteyn celebrations, and he is not amongst them.

They are seated on fallen trees, passing around a bottle of mead, when there is a hand on Oswald’s shoulder. He looks up. It’s Larkspur, eyes shining in the low light of their tiny bonfire.

“Come with me,” he says.

Oswald sniffs. “You’re going to lead me into the forest to murder me,” he says. “To be rid of the competition before next week’s contest.”

Larkspur grins, his teeth shining. “You know me so well,” he says. He turns away. “Are you coming or not?”

Oswald passes the bottle to their nearest friend. He stands. “I want it known,” he says, “that I want a dignified death.”

“Noted.”

The forest is dense enough that the chattering of their group fades away eerily quickly. It is dark - yet not too dark - and the odd silence is oppressive. It seems they can both feel it, and slip easily into bickering to fill the quiet.

“Perhaps you intend to do away with me,” Larkspur teases. “It would be easier to kill me than win by your own merit.”

“You invited me out here,” Oswald spits, pushing past him and taking the lead. “Unless I tricked you into that, too?”

“Perhaps you did. I would not put it past you. You used some psychological trick on me to lure me here.”

“Hmm.”

“You surely have nothing to fear,” Larkspur says, “only last week you said I had no talent. Does that not make you confident that you will win?”

“I will win,” Oswald says, pushing aside a branch and pausing to allow Larkspur to follow before letting go, “and on my own merit, not because I eliminated the competition. Besides,” he edges through the trees, “I didn’t say that you were untalented, just that you were— oh.”

He stands in a clearing perhaps a few meters wide, the leaves and debris beneath their feet giving way to soft, springy moss in an unnaturally bright green. The trees here are green, too, covered in sprawling vines, the leaves shimmering. It smells of honey and syrup, of living things. Larkspur bumps into him from behind, equally enraptured.

Surrounding the edge of the clearing - bursting from the vines and hanging from the boughs and even sprouting from the moss - are hundreds of enormous flowers.

For all the world, they could be enormous daffodils, although Oswald has never seen daffodils in these colours. They glow, like sunlight is seeping from them, the air around them shimmering with heat. The one closest to him is a vibrant cerise, the corona darker and the petals fading to a pearlescent blush. He reaches out, desperate to feel it, to see if it's as warm and soft as it looks.

It is. It feels alive beneath his fingertips, and as he brushes his hand across the petals the flower shudders, as if responding to him. Little motes of pollen shake on the tip of the stamen like water droplets dangling from a rooftop.

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” He breathes, keeping his voice low.

“No,” says Larkspur, taking a step towards the one closest to him, the petals an iridescent green colour. “Never. They’re…” he reaches out too, stroking the corona with a single finger. “They’re incredible.”

There’s a breeze, carrying with it the smell of sap and applewood. The precariously clinging pollen shivers, then gets caught on the wind, dancing like dandelion seeds. A speck of it lands on Oswald’s doublet, staining the baby-blue silk yellow.

He brushes it away with a little sniff. He feels warm, like his clothes are suddenly too tight, suddenly aware of all the places the silk and satin touches his body. There’s a minute noise beside him, and he turns - Larkspur is staring at him. His eyes are wide, his pupils huge and round and black.

“Are you all right?” Oswald says. “You look… different.”

There’s a florid flush spreading up Larkspur’s cheeks. His chest, neatly framed in the vee of his unbuttoned chemise, is equally pink.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he says. “I—”

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence. The wind picks up - unusually turbulent for the season - and the flowers around them shake and they’re both suddenly caught in a cascade of pollen, the dusty clumps raining down on them like sweet-smelling snow. Oswald sneezes as it flutters around him, sticking in his hair and tickling his nose. When finally the wind stops, they’re both coated in a fine yellow powder.

It tingles in every place it touches his skin. He feels…

He feels hot all over. Like the fever he contracted when he was a boy, but different. Better. The fever made him feel shuddery and sick, but this… this makes him feel like his skin is lit up, like he’s made of fireworks, the butterflies in his stomach transformed into birds. He can smell the pollen on him, sweet and heady. He can sense Larkspur standing beside him in a way he couldn’t before. He can feel the space he takes up, sense him moving as if through the vibrations in the air.

Oswald looks back at him, his brown hair turned golden. His lips are parted. His tongue - pink and probing - licks at his lips, taking some of the yellow flecks with it. Oswald is struck with the desperate need to taste; to taste him and the flowers, all at once.

They both step forwards together, brightly-painted mirror images of each other. Oswald is no stranger to desire - certainly no stranger to desire for this man - but now it's heightened. The feeling he’s been able to repress for a long and painful decade is now unstoppable. Holding it back would be like trying to stop a tidal wave with his own body: it would batter him, drown him, drag him along regardless.

Larkspur says something. It might be Oswald’s name. He’s too lost in the way his lips move to hear the word.

He forces himself to focus, despite it all. There’s a look of recognition on Larkspur’s face.

“I know what this is,” he mutters, lifting his hands to examine the pollen. Each word sounds like it takes a considerable effort to say. “Eric told me about them last Belleteyn. We were near fae country, and he said…” his eyes go a little unfocused. “What did he say? It only blooms this time of year. It’s powerful. Magical. He told me to avoid it, that I shouldn’t touch it, because the pollen…” he blinks, and Oswald realises there’s dust in his eyelashes, too, clinging like absurd tears. “The pollen is a— a—” he snaps his fingers, frowning. “It’s an aphrodisiac. I told him he was being stupid. I said—”

He looks up. Something shifts in his expression. “I said…” he trails off, unsure.

“Lark…” Oswald says. It’s barely more than a whisper, an exhale.

And then they’re kissing. He doesn’t know how it happens - one moment they’re staring at each other, and the next they’re locked together in a desperate embrace. They’ve kissed before, of course, but this is different. Larkspur sucks at Oswald’s lip, his hands tangling in his hair, and Oswald melts into him, like they’re one person instead of two.

It feels like it could last forever, until Larkspur makes a strangled noise and pulls away, throwing himself backwards, colliding with one of the flower-covered trees. His lips are red.

“We can’t—” he gasps, hand scrambling at his chest. “It’s not right, not like this. It’s not real.”

Oswald’s fingers tingle. “It feels real.”

“But it’s not. I cannot—” Larkspur closes his eyes, pressing his hands over them, taking a deep breath. “It’s not right. I will not—” a short, choking breath, “—I will not take advantage of you because of some stupid fucking flowers.”

“How are you taking advantage?” Oswald shoots back, the tingling growing into an ache, into a burn. “Tell me how.”

“You don’t want me. It’s the fucking pollen. You don’t want me.”

“Yes I do—”

“Don’t say that!” Larkspur is shouting. Pollen falls, dislodged by his yells.

The tingling, rushing, scorching feeling twists around something else in Oswald’s chest - something hard and rusted over. Something he’s forced shut for too long.

“I’ve wanted you for years,” he says, and he’s shouting too, “Of course I have!”

“You’re engaged!”

“Unhappily!”

Silence descends. It’s the first time Oswald has said that out loud. No one was supposed to know. No one was ever supposed to know.

“What?”

He tries to swallow it back, but something has taken over his tongue, and he can’t. “I do not want it,” he says in a rush. “I do not— I tried— but I don’t…”

“You don’t love her?”

Oswald shakes his head.

“You… you want me?”

He nods.

“You want me, or you just want to fuck me?”

His boldness sends a heat to Oswald’s belly, stirring his prick, quickening his pulse.

“I…” He finally regains control of his tongue. “I just want to fuck you.”

[Liar.]

Oswald steps forward. Larkspur is pressed against the tree, but he could flee if he wanted to. He could step aside. He could push him away; they both know he’s stronger. When their chests are pressed together, he sighs. Oswald can smell him: mead and spice and lingering magic.

Larkspur moves first. It isn’t as torrid as before, and he kisses slowly, cautiously, his lips pillow-soft and moist. Oswald lets him into his mouth, sliding his eyes shut, allowing himself to be moved, making himself pliable.

They’re on the ground. The moss is spongy beneath them, soft as a featherbed. Larkspur leans over him, his knees to either side of his hips, and tugs away Oswald’s doublet. He’s moving faster now, and the seams tug, but Oswald doesn’t care about the stitches and the silk when Larkspur is looking at him like that - like he’s going to eat him alive. The doublet is thrown aside, between the darkness of the trees, where it—

[Vanishes. Forever. I never found it again]

—melds into the shadows on the ground beyond the clearing.

Oswald cannot bear it. He surges up, pushing Larkspur back so they’re face to face, tearing his doublet up and away. He doesn’t even pause before he gets to work on the thin undershirt beneath, pulling it over his head and tossing that away too so he can finally touch.

Larkspur’s hairy skin is hot as coals, sheened with sweat. Oswald brushes a thumb over one of his nipples, and he gasps and bucks against him. He pulls his own chemise away too, so he can better feel Larkspur’s skin against his own, so they can touch in all the places he’s desperate for them to touch. Larkspur strokes his hands down Oswald’s arms, tickling in the bend of his elbows, leaning forwards to press open kisses to his forearms and wrists.

When he gets to his hands, he pauses. Larkspur is still straddling him, and he twists their fingers together. He tugs Oswald’s left hand closer, never breaking eye contact.

He sucks his finger into his mouth, slowly. Oswald can feel his tongue pressing against the underside of the digit, wet and unbearably warm. He slides further, taking Oswald’s finger fully into his mouth, until his teeth chink against the gold.

When he pulls back, the ring is gone. He grins, and it’s shining delicately and obscenely between his teeth. He spits it to the ground, where it lands on the moss with a soft thump.

[I remember the argument about that. I lost it, I say. In the woods. I don’t remember how. She asks if we fucked. I cannot find it in me to lie. She ends it. I laugh.]

Oswald leans back. Larkspur follows. The pollen sticks to their sweaty skin like paint, smearing in sunshine streaks across their chests. When Larkspur kisses him, from his lips to his jaw and down his chest to his stomach, he rises again with gold daubing his mouth like a smirking god. When they kiss, it blurs between them. It tastes like spring.

He wants to know how Larkspur tastes, too. All of him. As they kiss, he twists around, spinning their twined bodies so Larkspur is pressed to the moss beneath him, hair splayed and eyes wide. He grins up at him. He laughs, and it’s like music.

Oswald kisses all of him he can reach. His fingers desperately scramble at the waistband of his awful burgundy breeches - the ones he hates - and soon he’s pulling them away. Larkspur is magnificent. Oswald is a poet, he should know the words for this, he should put it to song and sing about him until the sun sets for the last time… but right now all he can think is how much he wants.

When he takes Larkspur in his mouth for the first time, he swears into the sacred space, his hands gripping in Oswald’s hair.

[Did you know you bruised my scalp? I didn’t care. I didn’t tell you, either.]

Osworld works him till he’s a panting wreck, till he’s close and begging, then he stops - rises - slides kisses up his skin. Larkspur gasps into the kiss, slipping his hand between them, finding himself blocked by the fabric of Oswald’s breeches.

“Get rid of these,” he pants. It’s the first thing he’s said in half an hour. Oswald does as he’s told, for once.

When they’re both naked, sprawled on the verdant forest floor, there is a moment of stillness. They’re absurdly coated in pollen, hair in tangles, eyes dark. There is a bruise forming on Larkspur’s neck in the shape of Oswald’s teeth.

“Fuck,” Oswald breathes.

“Yeah.” Larkspur agrees.

Oswald takes him in for a moment, despite the tickling urge in his hands to reach out and finish what they've started. He may never get to do this again.

[I will never get to do this again.]

“You look sad,” Larkspur says, suddenly breaking him from his thoughts.

“I’m not sad,” he says.

[LIAR!]

Larkspur tugs him down. “You think too much,” he chuckles. “You’ll make your wrinkles worse.”

He kisses him soft. He kisses him hard, reaching down between them again, taking them both in his hand. Oswald buries his face in Larkspur’s neck, tonguing at his skin, taking short, laboured breaths as he draws them both out.

It’s hands. Mouths. Fingers slick with spit. They kiss until they cannot breathe any more. They crest together, like the sun rising, as pollen scatters in the air, catching on the wind of their words.

“Fuck, Jaskier Larkspur—”

“Valdo Oswald—”

Afterwards, they lay sprawled on the ground. The flowers still glow, casting them in their warm, comfortable light. They’re in the middle of the forest - full of monsters and dangers that Larkspur can ramble about for hours - yet they’re safe, here. Nothing can reach them in the clearing. This is Belleteyn, after all.

The magic really is powerful, just as Eric had warned Larkspur last year. Even as they lie curled together, regaining their breath,Oswald can feel the urge creeping back up his chest, the press of Larkspur’s naked body against him thrilling him again. He can fill his sensitive cock stirring in interest once more.

“Lark—”

It’s all he manages to say before he’s being kissed again.

Belleteyn night is long, and full of secrets. This is one they can keep. The next morning, they emerge, rumpled and marked in yellow streaks. Their friends ask where they’ve been, when they find them early that afternoon. They peer at each other, but keep their mouths shut.

Next Belleteyn, Oswald is on the coast, and Larkspur is travelling with his— with Eric. The flowers in the woods fade. Oswald wonders every year if they’re still there. He never goes back to check.