#but the one i was looking for i cannot find the name of

[allfortheslay25]

Some family tree stuff I did a while ago but finished today (changed Dan and Katelyn a bit tho after finding out more about their families)

Also to those ppl telling me identical twins aren’t genetic. I never said they were, andreil and Kateaaron have twins cuz twins run in the Hemmicks and Hatfords🫵

Hatford/Wesninski headcanons

Also forgot to write it but Nathan’s dads first name isn’t Natan, it’s his middle name but he discards it when he gets into mob business

HC: Mary doesn’t get along with her older brothers other than Stuart. She’s years younger than them so they forget about her often but also spoil her whenever they have to since she’s the only girl.

David is the heir to the Hatford Crime syndicate but his son dies young and he and his wife spend years grieving before trying again. They arent so lucky. The other boys are pressured to try too but Jacob is shooting blanks and Thomas isn’t keen on even acknowledging his betrothed

When Mary had Nathaniel, her older brothers shunned her for good since she named him Abram. In their eyes, that name belonged to the heir and David had to name his son Isaac instead (Isaac was about a year or two younger than Neil)

Alistair Hatford created the honor and pride of the Hatford name so David wanted to give Abram to his own son in hopes of bringing good luck to their future. To him, Mary had practically killed his son for taking the name for herself

Amrita was Alistair’s fourth wife and being that he killed his last, she made him fall so head over heels for her he’d never so much as lay a hand on her. Amrita knew saying no to a crime boss like him would be suicide so she gave in and manipulated her position to ensure her survival.

Fun fact, Neil (ignoring his fathers color palette) is Amrita’s carbon male copy👀

Each of the contacts Stuart gave them was just the wives/husband families syndicates of their brothers and aunt (Alissa is Turkish, Rochelle is from a smaller French syndicate, Carli is a niece from a Mexican cartel, Maks is Russian, Margarita is Romanian)

Thomas and Charlie are fraternal twins but Thomas and Jacob are the trouble makers of the family

Elizas children cannot inherit the Hatford responsibility because they’re heirs to the Popovs and upon marriage, served her ties to the Hatfords as per agreement

Stuart is acting as head of the family as of current since David has been a mess since Isaac’s death and the other brothers don’t care for challenging him for the position. He would’ve liked Nathaniel to take over but he wouldn’t push him into it after Mary’s death

Minyard/Hemmick/Mckenzie HC

Katelyn’s mom is someone I write differently depending on the au. She’s either divorced/separated from Bruce or she’s dead. Katelyn’s mom is polish but her father is Scottish

Maria has three older siblings and one younger. I hc that even tho she willingly went with Luther, she sort of misses her father and so named her son after him

Tilda used to be known as Tillie by her family, a nickname she loathed

When Tilda got pregnant, Luther demanded she get married or she’d have to get an abortion. However, marriage was too soon and twins were too much so Mr Minyard left

Maude and Evelyn were fraternal twins but weren’t close

Angelica is a good handful of years older than Katelyn but they’re close enough that Katelyn babysits Marcin often

Because I like hiding little tidbits for myself, the Hemmicks have a habit of having two kids max and giving them names with five letters then six. (Ex, Maude, Aaron, Tilda, Nicky are 5, Evelyn, Andrew, and Luther are 6)

Toxic use of religion and neglect pushed Tilda into the life she led but Luther wouldn’t quit on his sister

Just like the Hatfords, the Hemmicks are all short

Boyd/Wilds oc Facts and HC

David is named after Wymack

Miranda is named after Randy

Luca is named after Matt’s nanny, Lucca

Dan’s father was never in the picture before her mother died but Cathy knew what he looked and sounded like (hispanic, tall, and handsome)

Randy and Donald are both tall ppl (6’0 and 6’4) so Matt outgrew them both (6’6)

Miranda goes by Randy too but her parents call her Miranda as to not mix her up. Miranda plays exy her entire life (playing for the Trojans starting line throughout college) and going pro before making Court. She’s the first exy player on the very top to have a clean record on and off court. Miranda has two girlfriends

David aka Dave used to play exy in college but he had a passion for medicine (thanks to uncle Aaron) so he put down his racquet and became a ortho surgeon before settling as a physical therapist for exy players after the stress got to him.

Luca also played exy but dropped it before college since he was never as passionate about it. Randy got him into boxing and he went pro before an injury temporarily had him out of the ring. Dave recommended his best friend to be Luca’s physical therapist. Luca ended up marrying that man

Dan and Matt both make time for their children, whether they’re staying home with Dan or traveling with Matt around the state for his matches

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

How could you love somebody like me?

Pairing: f!reader x Javier Peña Words count: 3032 Rating: + 18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Javi is under protection and has asked you to join him in the hotel room where he is confined. When you discover his secrets and lies, however, that room will become too small. Too small for both of you. Tags/warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, Javi is still a DEA agent but it's a modern setting so the man has a smartphone. Reader is described having female genitalia and breasts, no other description of her is given, she doesn't blush and her hair is not described. Mention of alcohol, mention of cheating, Javi is a cheater, no happy ending, we will go through the man's phone (you're not supposed to do that but I never said my reader could do no wrong, right?), use of pet names (gatita which means kitten in Spanish, baby, darling), smut, angry sex, unprotected p in v (do better irl), cream pie, of course a little nipple play ‘cause it’s still my fic, toxic relationship, self doubt, mention of Steve, a huge pile of lies, Javi is bad at feelings, some reader’s thoughts marked in italics. I think it's all, let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @jolapeno 's "Dear-uary" challenge. This was my prompt, I struggled a little bit at first but I ended up having a blast writing this ❤︎ Heavily inspired by this song (from which the fic also takes its title), I heard it randomly on Spotify one day and I thought "wait, this is perfect for Javi!" and I ended up being obsessed with two more songs by the same artist. LOL Many thanks to: - @aurorawritestoescape , my beta, for her help and advice, she will probably dream of elephants because of me tonight hahaha Kate I own you a big one, thanks baby so much, I love you ❤️ - The person who basically pulled this out of my brain and supported me throughout the process, my precious, my peanut @joelmillerisapunk. 🥰 Love you so much it's ridiculous🥹 - @milla-frenchy for letting me blather about this thing some days ago. Love you, bb ❤︎ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any.

“Why the hell am I here? Was I the only available hole this week?”

“No,” he whispers. 

“So what?” 

Javier came back and found you in the middle of the room.

You were brandishing his phone like a sword in the air, the banner of everything that was wrong.

His face went pale when he saw you like that. 

Eyes wide open. 

Mouth agape. 

He tried to say something but you immediately hit him with a vomit of words.

“I know what you’re doing,” you hiss under your breath, feeling your eyes sting.

Javier is a marble statue in front of you, his lips pressed together, his absent eyes not even looking at you, staring at a spot behind your shoulders, his arms abandoned along his sides. 

He seems anchored to the ground. 

His last words to you still burn on your skin like a fire you cannot extinguish.

A heavy silence between you fills the air of the room and makes it unbreathable. 

“Fuck, Javier, talk to me,” you whisper angrily.

You clutch his phone in your hands, so tightly that your knuckles are white from exertion, as if you were clinging to it to keep yourself from falling off a cliff. 

“You knew I was no good,” he says sternly.

You have been in this room for two days. 

Officially, Javier has to stay here because henchmen of one of the new drug lords in town are set on taking him out. 

Unofficially, he has you infiltrating the room. 

Typical Javier, spending his time under protection fucking someone. 

You foolishly almost believed it was romantic, until this morning. 

“So you’re trying to say that it’s my fault? Is that what you want to say? It’s my fault that as soon as I turn my back you go and stick your cock in someone else's pussy?” You don’t even have the strength to scream right now. Your voice comes out rancorous but low, hoarse, like a blown growl. 

Oh, you’re not going to accept being lectured by him, fuck no.

“No, I’m just saying -” he tries to explain and you glare at him, making the words die in his mouth.  

"What?" 

“Fuck, I'll never change,” he shrugs as if it were a truism that only you can't grasp.

His eyes shift to the ground, dull and absent.

“You don't change because you are convinced that you can't,” you admonish him, feeling anger rising from your chest. 

"That's not true," he murmurs, keeping his gaze on the crimson and gold carpet that lies at your feet.

“Yes, it is,” you insist, ”and you seem to like to think of yourself as an incurable asshole.”

He still fails to see the real problem, the elephant in the room that lives and thrives among you. 

"Then you tell me, if you think you know me so well,” he asks with defiance. 

“You bet I fucking know you,” you lash out. “You think you're so mysterious and complicated?! Well,  news flash, I've seen plenty like you. You’re just another man. You're not even that, you're a child. A child who's afraid of his own shadow when it comes to relationships.”

“Don’t fucking analyze me,” he hisses, finally setting his eyes back on you. 

Raven, angry and fearful. He knows you can read him like an open book and this unleashes an awareness upon him that crushes him to the ground.

You bitterly laugh, “Truth hurts, huh? I know something about it”. 

The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepens, his nostrils flare, and his mouth tightens into a line so thin you think he’s about to burst. He stays quiet instead, eyes back on the damask carpet decoration. 

_____________

“Yes, Steve, I'm fine. That jerk won't find me here, and anyway it's full of police outside the door.” 

A pause and a sigh. 

”No, no one followed her, they don't know who she is.”

You stood behind the half-closed bathroom door listening. 

You smiled. 

His voice sounded softer when he talked about you. You lulled yourself into that feeling. 

Until you heard something else. 

A booming laugh. 

Water ran in the shower, tiny droplets coated the wall as the mirror fogged up.

“Whatever. Of course I'm still screwing around. At least, I was doing it before that asshole started chasing me,” his voice suddenly lowered so you took a chance and opened the door a little more. You wanted to make sure you heard right. 

Your hand trembled against the doorknob, you grabbed your wrist to hold it steady. 

“You idiot,” he scoffed. “Yeah, we'll be in touch.”

Suspicion. The black wing of a crow that had been wrapped around your heart for a long time.

But then why did it hurt so much? 

You allowed yourself to hide it in a part of your brain where you never looked-that was a mistake. Making the hunch barely a firefly when it was supposed to be a bright neon sign.

He always places the phone with its screen down when you go out to dinner, softly smiling at it when he checks it after a few vibrations, telling you “it’s Steve” when you ask. 

But you know that crooked smile. 

He dodges when you ask him about his day "oh work, you know, just work." 

He tells you he is with Steve but you hear female voices in the background. 

Every time you try to confront him it always ends the same way, him telling you, “you’re paranoid, there’s no one else, just you, baby. You’re the only one I want.”

And then he fucks your doubts into oblivion.

You heard the thud of the phone on the blankets. And then Javier calling you. 

You swallowed the gall rising from the walls of your stomach and just smiled when he joined you in the bathroom and suggested that you shower together.

You wanted some proof before you charged him. 

If there was anything you had learned from being with him, it was that hard evidence was the key. So you played cool. 

He fucked you against the shower wall and you moaned into his neck. 

He licked your pussy like a man starved and you just bit your lips until you felt iron on your tongue.

He kissed you with that liar's mouth, and you let him.

And you fell asleep beside him, on the unmade bed of your uncertainties. 

This morning someone from outside called him into the hallway to report the latest movements of the guy who was looking for him. 

His phone was on the bedside table.

It was like a magnet, pulling your hand to it.

You were almost sure you knew his unlock code ‘cause you had watched the movements of his finger many times. 

You tried twice without success. 

The third time you let out a long sigh, visualized in your mind the movement one more time and unlocked it. 

You were in. 

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your fingers swiped and clicked on the screen. 

And there they were.

Dozens and dozens of messages and pics exchanged with 4 different women.

You scrolled through one of the chats with a certain Maria, who regularly sent him pictures of her tits and her legs spread wide, her pussy in the shot.

There was sexting, arranged dates, same promises he gave to you, things you never asked for but he kept repeating like a broken record. Even the same pet name. Gatita. 

Blood simmered in your veins, a jolt in your heart, throat dry. 

Your finger furiously scrolled through the chat, finding tons of messages he had sent her while he was with you.

You switched to another one and you found pretty much the same. And yet another, message after message containing flirting and explicit sex.  

“Oh Javi, you keep getting better and better with that cock of yours”

“My pussy needs you, darling, can you come over?”

“I can’t stop thinking about your huge cock dripping on me”

And the more you scrolled, the more a question formed in your brain, rumbling through your temples like a deafening drum. 

Was he ever sincere with you?

________

When he looks up at you again, you see it. A veil of fragility in the dense blackness of his gaze.

He looks almost helpless. “I know you tried,” he admits, ”You tried harder than anyone else.”

“Apparently it was no use,” you chastise him.

He doesn’t reply. 

Instead he comes closer and closer. 

You pull back, responding to his every step forward with a backward one. 

“Please,” he whispers. 

“No.” 

“Don't do that.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do,” you bark.

”I know...” 

“Fuck off, Javier, leave me alone.”

You pull back until you hit the wall behind you. 

Javier approaches, bending slightly to reach your mouth, his mustache brushes against your cupid’s bow and you don't even have the strength to turn your face away anymore. 

When your lips collide you let it happen. 

It’s like when you drink too much Tequila. 

It burns on your tongue, leaving you almost anesthetized as soon as you down it, and then an aromatic taste wafts into your mouth; it is lysergic, unusual, unmistakable.

You love it, so you keep doing it.

Javier is the same. 

He's sharp, stiff at the edges, burns like fire, but he has an aura that you won’t mistake for anything and he hypnotizes you. He’s not like anyone else, despite what you told him. There is an underlying despair in him, a cry dying in his throat, “How can you love someone like me?” 

He says it only with his eyes but you hear it clearly.

He is a time bomb that explodes in your heart every time he touches you. So you keep doing it.

“Fuck,” you whisper against his lips. 

“Yeah…I know. I’m not worthy.”

And yet, you’re still here.

You let him peel off your every layer of clothing, to leave you naked and vulnerable in front of him. 

You do nothing when he undresses too. Hastily taking off his shirt, fumbling with the button of his jeans, nervous hands and short breaths.

It is like some mind fuck game, intoxicating, dangerous, capable of leaving permanent marks.

He lowers his jeans just enough to free his cock, no boxers. Always ready.

His hands run over your hips and you groan. 

His tongue slides over your neck, his eyes closed, his breath heavy and warm on your skin. 

He makes you cry, but you don't say no.

His lips latch onto your nipple and adrenaline rushes through your veins up into your head, hitting hard like a jackhammer.

You don’t pull back anymore, you push your tit into his mouth so eagerly you feel his teeth closing on your bud and you whine in pleasure. 

His growing erection leaks against your center. You are trapped. Not so much because you are between him and the wall but because you no longer know how to get him out of your head. 

Right now it doesn't matter how much it hurts. 

He slides his hands down your thighs and you know what he wants, without needing to speak. You wrap your legs around his waist. He kneels on the bed with you still clinging to him, you lie back on the soft blankets that smell of you both, arch your back and press against his cock. You folds splayed and dripping for him.

His fingers go up your rib cage, stop under your breasts and grasp there, he draws you back to him and your mouths collide again.

You let his tongue enter. You let the fleeting pleasure of this instant take over all the no's you know you have to say.

There’s no right kind of love here, this room is drowned in angry sex.

Angry at how you can never say no to him, angry at how he makes you feel, angry because you know that no one has ever fucked you the way he did, invading your body with a pleasure so addictive that it makes you sick. Angry because maybe he's right, he can't change. 

You break the kiss and bite on his shoulder, a small act of revenge that really does no harm compared to your bleeding heart. 

Your hands grasp on the golden skin of his back, leaving marks with your nails digging into it, your miserable attempt to leave marks on him in return.

You moan convulsively under his touch, your mouth wide open against his, your tongue desperately seeking him out. 

His hands tighten on your ass, lifting you slightly, his cock slides over your wet opening, a guttural sound comes out of the back of your throat without you being able to hold it back. 

You want him inside you. 

You need him inside you.

And it’s wrong, and desperate. It’s masochistic.

You don’t even care for his jeans’s zip scraping your skin.

The thin line between pain and pleasure is so blurred now.

It’s a pathetic shit show of need and urgency. 

You’d walk away from any other guy but Javier is the person you can never have just for yourself and at the same time he is the only one you want. 

He is the knife and the wound at the same time.  

When he asks “Whose pussy is this?” in his deep groaning voice that fucks directly with your brain, you can only reply “yours.”

Digging your nails deeper, biting more, wailing louder but just pleading with him.

You take his shaft in your hand and rub it against you in blind desperation, wetting it with your juices. 

He groans into your ears while his hand reaches for your nipple and his big strong arm holds you close.

You are sitting on his thighs, your legs crossed behind his back.

His fingers pinch your nipple as you don't stop stroking his big throbbing cock.

Just put it in there. You think. I just need to feel your flesh against mine, inside me, claiming me like the rag doll that I am now. 

Stupid bitch trying to have you when you’re damaged like a shattered glass, when you can bring nothing than heat to my body and freezing ice to my heart. 

“Fuck me,” you groan. 

He pushes against your core, entering you with one deep thrust.

Your pussy is weeping so much it doesn’t even hurt.

You clench on him with all the strength you have, chocking his cock with your walls.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re gripping me so hard, baby. There’s nothing you want more than this, huh? Me fucking you raw?” 

“Shut up,” you hiss. 

He starts moving, pumping into you as his hand reaches for your clit, brushing it in circles.

You whine, clinging onto his back, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

You can’t look him in the eye, you can’t face your own shameful reflection in his pupils, you can’t think of anything else than this pleasure firing your body, your limbs, your mind.

Your pussy never gets the memo when it comes to him. She just clenches, and cries and asks for more.

At the verge of your brink, when you’re so utterly overwhelmed you could swear, you’re about to jump out of your skin, you hear it.

It’s the softest whisper on your skin, so low you barely catch the words, “I love you” 

You cry a single tear that slides down the column of his neck, it could be mistaken for a bead of sweat so easily and Javier doesn’t notice it. But it’s there. You’re crying again.

You come, weeping.

Grasping to him like your last shred of hope.

But there’s no hope anymore.

You know you can’t go on like that.

You cried before. You argued before. It’s all useless.

A devastating orgasm shoots through you, leaving you without defense.

It’s the last thing you want but you need to get it over with. 

You lie on the bed, feeling his last twitches inside you, his cum dripping onto your walls, his cock pressing against that spot that belongs only to him.

He lies down on you, gently crushing you with his weight, his sweaty skin against yours, the smell of your orgasm filling your nostrils.

You’re hopeless and breathless. 

He's still inside you, like he doesn't want to leave. 

You know you have to. 

Eventually he shifts, lying on the other side of the bed muttering, “god, you really are something else.” He takes the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and lights one, taking a long drag.

“I'm not enough,” you want to scream looking at him through the cloud of smoke enveloping him. “Or maybe you're not, for me.”

When he is about to fall asleep, you get up. You pick up your clothes off the floor and put them on silently.

“Where are you going, gatita?” he grunts. 

Does he think he has solved it? Does he think you will forgive him as you did the other times? 

"You only ever tell me the truth when you think I won't hear it,” you breathe, before coming out of the door without turning your back.

You leave him there, wondering what you were referring to, lost as he makes you feel.

There will be two broken hearts. 

You know he loves you and you love him.

He is convinced that he doesn’t deserve you and pushes you away every time you get close to his soul. 

He knows that you see him clearly; that scares him.

You are tired of fighting for the both of you.

You push the elevator button under the gaze of an unsuspecting policeman who urges, “Where are you going, miss?”

“I'm leaving.”

“Do you need someone to accompany you?” 

“No, thank you.”

“Someone could follow you,” he counters.

“No one knows me, you don't have to worry.”

You wait for the elevator, still hoping to see his ruffled raven hair poking out the door, his voice calling to you, his hand tightening on your wrist. 

None of this happens.

The only ones who will follow you are your ghosts.

Tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @almostempty , @probablyreadinsmut , @thundermartini , @gothcsz , @cas-readsandwrites , @harriedandharassed

Archive tag: @pedrostories

If you want to be added or removed just let me know! Thank you very much for reading❤︎

[always-outlander]

Cracks in the Armor - William's unseen trust in Jamie

Over on TikTok, I received a comment from a follower insinuating that William must trust Jamie if he asks for his help with Jane and her sister, Fanny at the end of season 7.

I wanted to reply with a long-form explanation because there is an interesting passage in ‘Go Tell the Bees’ that leans into this idea of William not necessarily realizing his trust in Jamie until later on.

But first, I need to remind everyone of the differences between the book and the show when it comes to Jane's death. In Chapter 134 of ‘Written in My Own Hearts Blood,’ Jane’s burial scene takes place in Savannah, GA. Jane’s body is retrieved for Fanny and her burial is arranged with the help of Lord John Grey, not Jamie. John knows a family with a small private cemetery where Jane can be buried. To take one's own life is a sin, and so she cannot be buried in a churchyard. Jamie grapples with this in the books and he prays for Jane’s soul multiple times, despite his faith saying he shouldn’t.

At such time, John also has a conversation with Claire, where he learns that William sought out Jamie’s help. He had thought that William might but hoped he wouldn’t for both their sakes. When Claire asks where William is now, John tells her that he has left on an errand outside of the city and will return that night. 

John tells Claire to plan for the burial to take place the next morning, early, and Clare tells John about Ezekiel Richardson. In the books, he had recently paid a visit to Claire in her surgery in Savannah and asked Claire to spy on John and his family. This scene takes place earlier in the show while Claire is married to John.

Claire warns John that Richardson is with the Continental Army, and that [Richardson] “knows about you, what you are, I mean.” John asks Claire if she has any idea of how he came into the information and she does not.

The next day at the burial, William stands at the entrance to the cemetery while the rest of the group carries out the burial services. John is there, along with Jenny Murray, Marsali, Fergus, and their children, Rachel, Ian, and Fanny. This scene also takes place after Marsali and Fergus lose Henri-Christian, so it is a very sad moment for everyone in the books.

This chapter takes place in Claire’s POV, and she spots William holding the reigns of a very large horse, whose name is Miranda. He presents it to Fanny and tells her that it is hers now and that she ‘will need her.’ William looks up at Claire and asks “Will you look after her, mother Claire?” and Claire says of course they will.

Jamie and William have the talk about Geneva that we see on the TV series a day or so later before William leaves Savannah. It takes place on the docks where Jamie is working, and William does not say “I will never call you father” during that scene. In large part, I believe this to be a plot device used for a payoff in season 8 where William does call him father. 

In Chapter 12 of Go Tell the Bees, William is at Mount Josiah plantation in Virginia and is paid a visit by a man named John Cinnamon, and Manoke, the Indian Scout from Quebec that Lord John Grey told Claire about in their morning after scene. William is still in the midst of his crisis of identity and doesn’t know if he will stay at Mount Josiah or not. He wants to find out what is happening with his cousin Benjamin Grey. Ben had been reported dead of goal fever in New Jersey. This is later disproved when William discovers his grave and determines that the man in the grave is not Ben. 

William begins to think about how to make things right in his life before going on the quest to find Ben. He thinks about Rachel and Ian, and how nothing can be fixed between him and Rachel now that she is married. Then he thinks of Jane, and how that situation cannot be fixed (or removed from his memory).

Neither can his true paternity. After spending the night with Jamie on their mission to rescue Jane, there was no possible way for William to deny the truth.

He recalls Jamie telling him “Ye’ve a claim to my help for any venture ye deem worthy,” and how Fraser did help, at once and without question. Not just for Jane but also for her little sister, Francis.

There’s a lovely passage in Chapter 12 of Bee’s where William recalls Jane’s funeral, where he was unable to speak and full of grief. He had thrust Francis into Fraser’s arms and walked off, and William wonders why he had done that. He could have had Lord John help Francis, he was there, but William hadn’t even thought about giving her to John.

‘No. No, I am not sorry’ echoes in William’s ears and he recalls the touch of Jamie’s hand on his cheek. William chokes on his fish, coughs, and chokes again before the thoughts leave his mind.

I always interpret this scene as the first sort of crack in the armor for William. As he continues to have anxiety over who he is and the obligations that come with that, it is at this moment when he thinks of Jamie that provides clarity on the scene between them in the season seven finale. The show’s use of the line “I will never call you father” makes us believe that William has no appreciation for Jamie, but we can see in the books that he might be starting to view Jamie differently after all. 

What are your thoughts on William and Jamie’s final scene together in season 7?

[evangelifloss]

Hey, I just red your amazing fight analysis and I want to know what you think about the scene where the bartender at the continental bar in the first movie says to John that he looks „vulnerable“. Do you think it’s the look in his eyes or the way he acts or moves ? (Which in my opinion look pretty normal) and how do you think John was before he left the business? Was he more cruel with his kills ?

I'm guessing you mean this scene, right? I hope so because I made this gif JUST for this ask since I LOVE what you've sent in. Thank you @persephone411 💖💖

To answer why the bartender picks up on John's vulnerability without him seemingly displaying any signals, I'll first and foremost use what I know of the later instalments regarding John's behaviour. And that is how much he speaks. Between movies 1 and 2, there's only a 15 word difference in regards to how many lines of dialogue he has (1st movie has 484, 2nd has 499) and for a movie that has a run time of 1 hour and 40-ish minutes, that's not alot of dialogue to begin with.

Take for example, Jack Sparrow from the 1st Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Reading through the script, I counted roughly 490 lines of dialogue from him and that movie has a runtime of 20 minutes LESS than John Wick 1!

So we know that John isn't a talker. Yet, when he finds himself back at the Continental bar, and reunites with the bartender who knows him very well, and given how familiar they are (her excitement at seeing him, a brief hug/cheek kiss) it becomes apparent that John is more... open. He doesn't just order a drink and say nothing else. He engages with her, and expresses, "She (helen) was more than I deserved." Which by all accounts expresses a softer side to John, an admission that he is not impervious to grief. Assassins don't do that. Retired he may still technically be, he is still in a room full of people who are NOT retired, who could overhear and see the man behind Baba Yaga. That sentimentality can get you killed in the Assassin world.

Secondly, his face is sporting a few rough marks, and I very much doubt John the Baba Yaga would show himself at the Continental bar sporting proof he can be injured.

As my final thought, for me personally, it's his tone and his eyes that give away his grief. His inner turmoil that will eventually overflow into a bloody tsunami. The micro-movements of his face as he pauses, when he looks away, and even when he greets her, the man is Tired. The man is not at this point in time, the Baba Yaga.

The second part of your ask is very interesting because we have almost next to nothing to go off of! No prequels (thank god) and barely any direct Lore other than what others speak about John which ironically, is missing direct context which leaves us viewers to speculate.

The John we know is the old John. The grieving John. The Man. We get glimpses of what he used to be, and how characters react upon hearing his name but we never get the Baba Yaga. Not entirely.

Continuing off this, my personal speculation is that John wasn't a vicious killer. He was an incredibly efficient one. You can buy time with a sadist if you are able to withstand them long enough for help to arrive but you cannot do the same towards someone whose only goal is to kill you on sight. As quickly as possible. And that someone also happens to be the best of the best. Combine those two skills and I think that is what makes Baba Yaga so terrifying to those in the underworld. It was enough for Viggo, head of a massive Russian syndicate, to go silent upon hearing the name despite knowing John had been retired for 5 years!!

On another note, and this barely gets touched upon but throughout the movie you come to know that for such a silent and deadly killer, John has a weird amount of people willing to die for him.

The High Table actively discourages and creates a continually hostile environment amongst assassins so that bonds and genuine alliances/friendships can't begin nor be maintained and yet... look how many people are willing to so far for John.

This speaks to the level of respect and integrity John must have to simultaneously be a deadly killer AND to not be hated by everyone.

He does his job well but he is not cruel. He will not endanger unrelated persons if he can help it, he is sincere and loyal.

It's why the High Table fuckin hates him.

[yuriko-44]

home: main wr, new cr !!

My goal right now is to permashift to my main waiting room first, so then I can shift to whatever dr I want without worrying about anything!! My wr is basically a replacement for this reality but also some kind of hub, so whenever I feel like taking a break from my drs I can just return to it and relax. Some of my drs can be quite intense and this is one of the many reasons why I'm planning to not come back to this reality. I can't get traumatised in any of my drs and wrs, but I can't script that in this exact reality, so bye bye I guess!!

summary of contents:

my dr self • about the world • my house • miscellaneous

last update: 20th january 2025

my dr self

My name is Yuriko and I'm 20 years old!! You see the little person I put at the start of this post? That's me!! I made that with a picrew- unfortunately I don't remember which one- and then I edited it a bit. My skin is on the pale side, my hair is white and my eyes are a dark grey colour. I'm around 6'0'' and…yeah- I don't have much to say to be honest!! Oh- and I've got a beauty mark on the left side of my face!! I literally have godlike powers, so I can do whatever I want whenever I want!! I literally have no limits!!

about the world

My house is literally in the middle of the woods!! There are no dangerous animals- well, there are but they aren't dangerous…if that makes sense- if I find a bear it won't attack me, it doesn't matter how hungry it is or whatever, the animals in my wr are chill like that. In my wr I'm literally the only person on earth!! There are no cities or anything like that, only my cute house in the middle of a forest!! I have godlike powers, I can literally do whatever I want, so I'm going to be perfectly fine on my own. I can spawn all the food I want, my house is indestructible and immune to deterioration, I can also change it however and whenever I want!! There are different biomes too of course, the forest isn't infinite!!

my house

My house looks like a cute, little cottage from outside, but once you step in there's an infinite amount of space!! I can change the rooms in my house however and whenever I want!! I can also add and remove rooms however and whenever I please, but there are certain rooms that can be changed but not removed:

- my bedroom: this is where I'll be when I shift for the first time!! I have a really cozy bed and various trinkets about the things I love!!

- living room: this is where I can chill whenever I don't feel like staying in my room- or whenever I want to play videogames or watch a show/film!! There are all sorts of consoles and there's a shelf from which I can pull out any game I want!! Similarly to this, on my tv I can find any show/film I want too!!

- kitchen: this is where I get my food from…obviously- I have a fridge from which I can pull out any food, doesn't matter if they're ingredients or full meals!! But something tells me I'll really enjoy cooking!!

- bathroom: this is where I can finally have a relaxing bath that isn't going to be stopped by the water getting cold!! I can already see myself in the bath planning my next script-

- shifting room: this is where the magic happens!! Here I keep my scripts!! I also use this place to lock in and perfect my scripts before shifting there!! From here I can also access another room, which cannot be removed like the others in this list, and it's a simulation room. I can enter this room to start a realistic simulation of my drs so I can test them out!! I'll mainly use it to test specific things. For example, I didn't script that my bnha drs are going to have the same 'graphics' as this reality, so I can use the simulation room to see how it'd be once I actually get there!! (I know it feels completely normal in my drs, but I'd be too curious to wait until I actually shift there-)

- guest room: this is where the silly little guys can stay!!…wait- silly little guys? Didn't I just say I was the only person in my wr?? Well yes, BUT…what if I told you that I can and will spawn people from my drs so we can hang out at my wr house? I don't know, it just seems like a lot of fun!!

miscellaneous

• ...

[sereinreality]

making a luis lives au and having it lead up to re6 so i just want to write down my ideas so far

- ada saves him without a shadow of a doubt. somehow, someway, she gets him off the island and takes him to a hospital to heal while she spends those next couple of months making plans. when luis is properly healed, she would offer one of two options; either work with her or she’ll leave him some things but they have to keep little to no contact. luis obviously goes for the first choice.

- they definitely bond over the course of time they work together from re5 to re6. i like to think their similar backgrounds, history, and goals bring them closer together. luis would always try to find a reason to throw festivities, he’s very insistent on celebrating ada’s birthday or any holiday.

- they do a lot of moving around which means time to kill and lots of stories. luis likes to play a game where he tells a story and ada has to guess wether it actually happened or he just made it up. most of the time he’s lying but argues “you never know! maybe someday it will be true!” it makes ada smile. luis tries to make her smile as often as he can.

- luis didn’t change in terms of making jokes. he figures there’s no point in falling to despair when you’ve been given your last chance so he makes the most of it. it annoyed ada at first, thinking that luis wasn’t taking this seriously but upon closer inspection, she realized he’s grown way more cautious than before. she excused some of the teasing after that but never backed down from some back and forth

- ada and luis are like soulmates in the way that they are two sides of the same coin. where there’s one, you’ll find the other. they are connected by coincidence but they treasure it. more than anything, it’s a deep understanding between them. everything they did to survive, to get out of their respective situations, the choices they made, and the loneliness they felt. luis swears that as long as he lives, ada will never feel alone again. ada says likewise. both of them mean it with their whole heart.

- under NO circumstances can leon learn that luis survived. it’s a depressing truth they both understand that if leon got the smallest hint of luis’s survival that he would begin a manhunt to find him. they have too much work being carried out that cannot be compromised. that doesn’t stop luis from searching for leon’s name in government files or papers, he keeps up to date with anything where he’s involved. what can he say? the knight misses his prince.

- that being said leon does not handle post valdelobos very well. he still has luis’s lab key which he keeps in a box tucked away somewhere. sometimes the smell of smoke brings him back to spain and the mines where he lost someone he’s grown so close to in just a small amount of time. it shouldn’t break him as much as it does but it’s something that stays in the back of his mind. leon feels like he missed something. that there was an opportunity open to him that he failed to see, it could have been something but now he’ll never know. the door shut in his face just when leon realized what was being offered to him.

- once he saw don quixote displayed on a bookstore window with a lovely red cover and bought it immediately. it sits on his shelf collecting dust, leon hasn’t had time to read it or so he says.

- the trio do reunite in re6 but more importantly, luis catches wind of some of the stunts leon had been pulling and their first interaction after years was luis marching up to leon as he backs into a wall. luis is shouting in spanish, probably complaining about leon not prioritizing his own safety, then switching to english so he can yell in a language leon understands. it was here that he catches leon’s face. he’s so much older now, worn out like leather. leon looked exhausted but he also seemed so amazed? confused? whatever it was, he looked softer now and his eyes widen a little. he simply says, “you’re alive?”

[dimlylittorch]

18+ drabble MDNI

My Masterlist🌱

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x emotional!chubby!pre-op!transmasc!reader

small synopsis: accidental meeting, hurt/comfort, smut (use of clit, cunt, etc)

Bumping into Ghost randomly on the street, he gets annoyed and glares down at you, you immediately react after having a horrible day by darting into an alleyway with tears in your eyes. He unknowingly just stumbled upon an emotional little bunny with no one to protect him. You who is lonely, touch starved, and cannot handle any rejection or negative feelings coming your way.

As soon as he looked down and saw how tears welled up in your eyes, his gaze softened and followed you as you scurried off into some dark alleyway that probably wasn’t the safest for a little thing like you. He knew he probably looked big and scary and mean, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to follow the sweet little thing whose day he very clearly just ruined.

He finds you in the alleyway with your face in your hands, trying your best to stop your tears. Digging your palms into your eyes, breathing heavily as you try to calm yourself. He watches from a few feet away, his mind riddled with guilt. What kind of asshole makes a little bunny like you cry? He walks over silently, standing right in front of you and waiting for you to say something.

When you see his boots on the ground in front of you, your tears slow slightly, but not enough to gather yourself. “I-I’m sorry” you choke out between sobs. “I didn’t m-mean to.” He sighs when he sees how tears are soaking your shirt slightly, and how you were shaking like a leaf in front of him. He wasn’t good at comforting people- he never had been. But there were a few things he was good at. He knew how to fight, kill, and fuck.

You didn’t know how to react when he gently leaned forward, cupping your chin with his large hand, his thumb stroking over your skin. “Don’t cry” he said quietly in his gravely voice. “I’ll fix it. Jus’.. no more cryin’.” He murmured softly, his hands reaching your torso, gently kneading your soft flesh through your shirt. You tense, a small gasp leaving you at his touch. “little birds cry when they’re wound up too tight” he says softly as he leans to speak against the shell of your ear. “let an old dog help ya’.”

A few moments later he had one arm against the brick wall of the alleyway in front of your face, ensuring you wouldn’t hit the brick while his other hand was down your pants, thick fingers circling your little clit. “such a good boy” he says against the skin of your neck where his face was currently buried. Every touch to your little bud made you arch closer into his chest, heavy breaths leaving the both of you while he occasionally checked to make sure no strangers were getting a free show. Even if they were, he couldn’t blame them. A soft little thing like you being manhandled? It turned him on too.

You can feel his bulge pressing against the curve of your ass, pushing back against it whenever you get the chance. His fingers shift lower, teasing at your tight entrance while he manages to get his mask up slightly, pressing small kisses to your neck. “f-fuck-“ you gasp out, wanting to moan his name but he never even told you. When the tip of his thick finger sinks inside of your boycunt he groans, shifting his thumb to still knead at your puffy clit.

“Yer so warm down ‘ere” he groans against your skin, sniffing in your scent as his face rests against your neck. “fuckin’ hell, yer tight..” he murmurs as he sinks in a second finger. “no wonder yer crying so easy.. hell, i’d cry too if I were this pen’ up.” He mutters against your skin.

You can’t help but choke out weak moans while his fingers explore your cunt, rubbing along every bump and ridge he could find, doing whatever he could to find that perfect little spot that would make you sing. With one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, your other one reaches up to wrap around his thick arm, craving some kind of skin to skin contact. “s-sir-“ you whine weakly when his thumb presses hard against your clit.

He groans loudly when you call him that, picking up the pace as his erection grinds up against your ass. “christ, yer a good boy.. lettin’ me take care of ya’.” He mutters when suddenly, you cry out against your hand, eyes tightening shut with embarrassment. He immediately smirks, rubbing the pads of his fingers over that little spot he just found. “there he is..” he says proudly as he presses against your g-spot.

Within no time you’re completely soaking his hand, clear fluids dripping down his fingers and coating his hand. He groans when he feels how tightly you were clenching around his fingers, but he can’t stop himself from rubbing even quicker over that soft little spot inside of you, all the while his thumb teases your clit. “shit- oh shit” you whine, the sound barely muffled by your hand.

Simon quickly looks to see if anyone is around, and when he knows the coast is clear he starts to hump against your ass while his fingers move quicker. “Come on- fuck yeah” he huffs when he feels a rush of fluid spill onto his hand, and he hears a sharp cry from you. While he carries out your high he moans weakly against your ear as his hips start to stutter against your ass. After a few moments he groans against your ear, letting his head collapse onto your shoulder.

As he lets himself fall against the brick wall, he shifts one hand to wrap around your waist, keeping you from escaping his grasp. The other slowly slips out of your wet pussy, moving up to his lips and pressing inside as he groans from the taste. Your cheeks heat up from embarrassment, keeping your head downcast. “Ya taste like a dream” he mutters as he looks down at you. “Feel better?”

You hesitate for a moment before nodding slightly. You really did feel better. “..thank you.” You whisper shyly, making him chuckle.

Wiping his hand off on his jeans, he spins you around so your back is to the wall. He can’t help but lean down and press a gentle kiss to your lips, stealing away any breath you had. When he pulls away, he looks over your body. “Yer probably all sticky now, eh?” He grumbles. When you nod shyly, he places a small kiss to your cheek before sinking down onto his knees, pulling your pants down your thighs. “Don’ worry. Big boys know how ta’ clean up their messes.”

hey guys !! Sorry I haven’t been super active lately. I started school last week so I’m more busy than usual. hopefully I’ll have a longer fic out for you guys soon ! :D

[tophatwearingidiot]

Walks in….

New fruitcake/Cakefruit au just dropped (before you yell at me saying that the ship names have different meanings I want you to be aware that I know that /silly)

SO- explanation: in this timeline T Cosmo is in fact conscious, he can talk full English (in the third person but shh) think, etc. But he is still twisted… does he know that… pfft… no. This is where the hallucinations come in. T Cosmo’s vision is just one giant acid trip hallucination. Everything is super brightly colored and looks cheery for him, even himself. He cannot see reality. And Sprout finds him and is trying to get him to face reality, even if he can’t see it.

Side note: Sprout is the only non-twisted in the au because I felt like being mean to him /silly

Extra full body doodle of what Cosmo looks like to himself

This entire au was inspired by this post btw

[writing-mlm]

Hi, may I request a Tim Drake x male!reader story ? The reader is androgynous, has a rock/punk style, is a Japanese exorcist who dislikes heroes, and has an impulsive, shameless, and slightly paranoid personality. A fluff piece, please. Sorry for asking a lot, take care of yourself !

Stay for dinner-breakfast

Summary: Tim’s in a situationship with someone who hates heroes, this is just great. Pairing: Tim Drake x Male!Reader Wc: 3.8k tags/warnings: Japanese reader, way too many Blue Exorcist references, small demon fight

When most people familiar enough with demons or even the Justice League mention needing an exorcist, minds immediately go to the infamous John Constantine. The guy who managed to trick God and Satan, making himself nearly immortal. The guy who, admittedly, could probably control most demons with the flick of his cigarette.

Tim’s mind, however, wanders to a guy he met during his time abroad. When he had to do some Red Robin stuff that took him to Japan. He reminisces about it as if it was decades ago, in reality, it was two years ago. Hardly even two years, if he’s being honest. But he rarely is. 

While Bruce and Dick argue about whether or not they should call up John (the last time they did, Constantine ended up summoning more demons to deal with the initial demons and then blew up a building to get rid of the extra demons) (it cost Wayne Enterprises too much to justify asking that man for help again) Tim fishes out his phone. It doesn’t take him long to find the contact; it’s been what… a week since you’ve last spoken. He’s texted exactly three people within that week; Kon, Bart, and Jason. Jason because he wanted to know if he could join a drug bust he knew Jason had coming up. 

The answer was no. 

The phone rings as he spins in the chair, waiting until he hears that it’s connecting. Seriously, it’s already been three whole rings, what’s the hold-up?

“Whaddya want, hero boy?” You ask without looking down at the phone. Probably because you’re jumping from the ledge of a roof to a lamppost and then to the top of a vending machine. 

“You busy?” He asks, looking at the mole underneath your jaw. He hadn’t known that. Your head tilts from side to side as you make a noise. 

“I’ll have to check my calendar,” Glancing down at the phone, you wink and then pocket the phone. 

“There’s a demon in Gotham, could use the help.” He says, barely able to see as you’re fighting a demon. His eyes glance up at the contact name Okumura, unassuming to most because it is someone’s last name but to Tim, it’s so much more. 

He thought it was absolutely hilarious that you were an exorcist from Japan, raised by a priest, with a twin brother, and had the same hobbies as the anime where the main character is an exorcist from Japan, raised by a priest, with a twin brother. You didn’t think it was nearly as funny. The first time he mentioned it you kicked him from a rooftop— it was three stories, he was fine. 

“Like now?” You ask, picking your sword— just like the anime character, he’d gladly remind you— and cutting the demon in half with a mumbled but strong prayer. 

“Yes,” He nods, looking at the live feed of a demon messing up the finance district of Gotham. 

“Fine,” You grumble. “You’re lucky I finished my work for the day. See you in a minute.” 

“Kay, bye!” He hangs up and removes an earbud, calling for Bruce and Dick who haven’t stopped arguing. He wonders how they’d get anything done without him. They stop and look towards him as he waves his phone. “I have someone coming in for the demons.” He announces and Dick just hopes it’s not one of his friends from his YJ time. He cannot deal with those kids after finding out they watched Santa Claus get killed by a sentient meteor and then spent the next five months delivering gifts. 

“It isn’t Constantine, right?” Bruce asks, arms crossed and a disapproving glare ready to be plastered on his face. 

“That white man has nothing on me,” You chuckle, entering the Batcave through the door, spinning a set of skeleton keys on your index finger before putting them back into your pocket. Pointedly, Tim looks off to the wall with a see, anime guy look before turning back to the task at hand. 

“Who…?” Dick slowly asks while Bruce is having second thoughts about letting Tim back into the cave ever again.

“That’s Okumura,” He responds, standing up from the chair to greet you.

You’re wearing a pair of jorts— but the good kind, not the weird-looking ones— with hand-bleach-painted crosses on the leg, chunky beige leg warmers over a pair of shiny black loafers and an extremely large sweater that falls off your shoulder as you run down the stairs overtop a black turtleneck. 

There’s a pair of red shades on the top of your head, they curve at the top in a way that makes it look as though you have horns. Tim decides to not comment on the obvious joke he could make. But you can tell he wants to make it because of the glint in his eyes.

“Hello!” You nod without looking at them, too focused on not tripping over the steps, and give the group a small two-finger wave. “Tim calls me Okumura, it is not my name, though.” The hand that was doing the wave meets his hand and you do a funky little handshake before you look over at them for the first time. You frown, looking at their suits. It’s not even a frown, it’s damn near a scowl. You look at Tim who just shrugs; he would’ve thought you knew he was with his hero family.

“I’ll head out the demon; tell them not to follow me,” You tell Tim and he nods, sending you the location of the fight. While he does that, you look around for a different exit when you see his motorcycle parked, ready to go. “I’m stealing your motorbike again!” You call as you’re rushing over to it. 

“Kay!” He replies, head still buried in his phone. The motorcycle reeves to life as you jump on it; Bruce nearly stops you but the door to the cave is opening and you’re off faster than he can move. Slowly, he turns towards Tim with his arms crossed and a lecture waiting to happen.

“You better have a good explanation for that,” Bruce says once the door closes again. 

“That’s my exorcist friend,” He explains with a shrug. 

“You have friends outside of Kon?” Jason asks, a teasing tone to his voice but Tim can tell it genuinely surprised Dick. He doesn’t know if he should be hurt by that. 

“Yeah,” He shrugs. 

“And he’s an exorcist?” Bruce asks, looking at where the motorcycle once sat. He really hopes you don’t break it.

“Yup.”

“How did he get here so fast?” Dick asks, a little worried Tim was hiding a person in the manor.

“Funny story,” Tim smiles, looking up at them before looking down again, leaving them hanging. Jason grumbles, air strangling him while Bruce just sighs and looks back to the live feed. Thankfully you’d already arrived at the scene and to Tim and your credit, you’re dealing with the demons fairly easily. It’s surprising that your face is hidden from the public’s view, he hadn’t seen a mask but he also hadn’t seen the giant sword so. Probably some magic he won’t care about but probably should learn.

“Let’s go, fifteen Joker goons spotted around the site.” In a fluid motion, Tim puts his mask on and follows Bruce into the Batmobile. 

When Tim gets out of the car, he immediately finds you. You’re on top of a demon, riding it in the air while laughing and stabbing a nearby demon. He stops for a moment, wondering how you managed to wrangle a demon enough to sit on its back as if it were a horse. He then sees the knife in its head and he understands. He’s nearly jealous of the sight. 

Tim finally joins the others in the fight, narrowly avoiding the demons spawning from someplace he hasn’t found out yet. But you have, because you kill the flying horse demon and land softly behind Tim, cutting a demon away before it can sneak up on him. He shouts a thank you, pushing two goons back with his staff.

“I said no heroes!” You shout as you’re running past, heading towards a glowing manhole. How he hadn’t noticed it before; he won’t ever know. 

“Did he say no heroes?” Dick grunts, pushing back two goons that tried to jump him. 

“Yeah, he got issues with them.” Tim laughed before he was punched in the stomach by the goon he’d been fighting. He grumbles, holding the spot for a second before he knocks the goon out. “How many more are left?” He asks.

“Four,” Bruce says as he knocks out one of them. “Three.”

He goes to reply when there’s a loud explosion from the manhole and he looks over. Blue smoke rises out from the holes and he abandons trying to help the others fight the remaining goons in favor of finding you in the chaos. He doesn’t know what the smoke is but he assumes it’s some type of Joker Gas and he knows you’re not used to that. 

Putting a respirator on his face, he moves the manhole cover and jumps down. He squints into the blue fog, listening for noises but there’s a lot. There are hundreds of insect demons scurrying around him, hissing from the pipes, and he stops to really listen. He hears a string of coughs and follows it, the smoke getting thicker but he sees the faint outline of you lying on your back. 

“You don’ need a mask,” You huff, waving your hand in an attempt to move the smoke. “It is not poison.” 

“What is it?” He asks, removing the respirator as the smoke starts to clear, escaping up to the manhole. Your figure gets clearer, he can see your shirt and your hands resting on your stomach. 

“Spell,” You respond. “A… boobtrap for the talisman.”

“Boobytrap.” He corrects, putting the small device back into his pocket.

“That is what I said.” You blink, sitting up. He doesn’t fight you on that and helps you to your feet before he stops, hand still in yours. Now that you’re up close, he can really see you and when his eyes trail down, he inhales sharply and looks away.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” He says, covering his mouth with his free hand. 

“What? Did I get ugly? Do I look like you?” You ask, genuinely concerned as you pat your face but calm down when you feel your features. 

“Worse,” He grins and reaches around to grab your newly formed tail. “You really are Okumura now!” You shout, tugging at the tail only to wince because it’s connected to you. It only makes him laugh harder and you shout again, shaking him.

“This is not funny!” You tell him and then pause. “Thhhis,” You repeat and then cover your mouth. His eyebrows raise and, to his credit, he stops laughing. At least until you remove your hand and open your mouth, showing off the newly formed sharp canines. He barks a laugh and then pushes your hair away from your ear and you watch in horror as he spins on his heel to hide his expression. 

“You two okay down there?” Dick shouts from the top of the manhole.

“Fine!” Tim replies through his laugh. 

“That was one voice!”

“Fine!” You reply, even though you’re freaking out as your fingers trace over the suddenly sharp ears on your head. 

“I'm cursed!” You cry, dropping your head onto Tim’s shoulder, your ear nearly poking him in the eye. “This is your fault.” Pushing him away, you pick up your sword from the floor and resheath it with ease. “Never trust a hero,” You grunt, rushing over to the manhole.

“My fault?” He echos, following you out of the manhole. 

“You called me into your freaky city!” Climbing to the top of the manhole, you sit and kick his face. Not too hard, though. He shouts, holding his nose with one hand and the railing with the other. Standing up, you redo your hair over your ears and try to stuff the tail into your pants but it swings wildly and then wraps around something that’s behind you. 

When you look at what it was holding, you find it’s wrapped around Tim’s hand, helping him out of the manhole. 

“I think it likes you,” You grin despite yourself. 

“So, you like the tail?” He asks, checking his nose through the reflective metal of his staff. Thankfully his nose wasn’t broken, but it was throbbing in pain. Red on the end and he’s rubbing it with his free hand. You shrug, crossing your arms. 

“If it holds you like that,” Winking, he rolls his eyes under the mask and looks over at his family. Your eyes follow and you check your phone; there are no texts from anyone but you pretend that there are. 

“Wow, glad we settled that then.” He hums, smiling at you. 

“Mhmm, well, bye!” 

“Wait—“ He grabs the tail as you’re walking away and you grunt, eyes wide as you turn to look at him. Your eyes dart to and from the tail, watching as his fingers absentmindedly play with the soft furs on the end. “Stay for dinner, you did say I owed you.” When you first met, you’d gotten a glorious dinner and he ran into you, spilling it right into a sewer drain. You still think about that day and get upset. 

“Is it…” You cringe as you can’t find the right word. “American food?” He chuckles, remembering the countless videos you’ve sent him with angry and crying emojis. Hotdogs in jello, white bread soaked in water, mashed potatoes made out of potato chips, and boiled plain, unseasoned chicken with unwashed white rice.

“It’s not the American food you sent me.” He promises. “It’s good, I like it.” Your face scrunches as that’s not much to go off of; the man drinks Monster Energy’s like it's water. You’re sure it’s melted off his taste buds at this point.

“But you also like the vending machine cakes.” 

“It was good.” He defends. “But this is really good, trust me?”

“I wasn’t invited by B,” You glance over at the scowling Batman and glare back. Tim grabs your face, turning you to look back at him. You smile at him in a way that makes his stomach flutter and he clears his throat, dropping his hand. 

“Ugh! B, can he stay for dinner?” He asks, pressing his finger against his earpiece. 

“No.”

“He said yes,” He smiles and you struggle to still say no to him.

“I have to speak to the council about this—“ You gesture to your newly formed tail and ears. “Raincheck.”

Tim sighs but relents. 

“We’ll make your favorite next time; as a thank you.” He promises and you nod, waving before jogging up to a random door. The team watches as you pull out the keys and open the door, showing the headquarters of the council you work for. You wave again, your tail waving along before the door closes. 

“Better than Constantine,” Jason says as he looks at the ash on the ground. 

—

“That skirt does not go with that shirt,” Damian stops at Tim’s door, blinking at the oak door as Tim laughs. “I regret buying you VIP and custom makeup,” Now, Damian’s no idiot. He has friends and Jon, much to his chagrin, has gotten him into Roblox. So he knows very well that Tim is talking about Dress to Impress. 

“What? It looks cute!” Another voice defends, a voice that isn’t one he’s familiar with. He’d assumed Tim was talking to Kon, maybe Bart, or even himself. “You’re the one wearing a neon green fur hat when the theme is Victorian!” Carefully, he grabs onto the brass doorknob, pressing his other hand to the door and slowly turns it. 

“It’s camp,” Tim replies. He’s sitting on his bed with his legs crossed and laptop perched between them. Regrettably, he’s in an old band t-shirt and sweats; not company attire Damian would later remark. Across from him, sitting with their back to the door, Damian stares at the dangling sword earrings and then the tattered Eastern Youth shirt overtop a pair of leather pants. But his focus is on the tail swishing back and forth. 

“It’s ugly, just like your face,” You remark. Tim smiles, still looking down at his laptop, and moves his leg to kick you. You grab his ankle before he can and extend his leg, tossing your own over it. He shifts so both his legs are out and you naturally sit with your legs intertwined. 

Damian turns his nose up and leaves the room, the door softly locking behind him. 

“Pretty sure you weren’t saying that earlier,” Tim chides after the door had closed, watching as Damian’s footsteps leave from his door. 

“I did,” You hum, showing how you’d gotten first place and he’d gotten dead last. He rolls his eyes, leaves the game, and turns off your iPad. Next time he’ll just rig the game, clearly, the lobby didn’t understand his vision. 

“You should stay for dinner,” Your face contorts at the idea and you scoot closer to him until your ankles reach his back and his knees are at your ribs. “They’re not bad, not right now, at least.” He adds, messing with your studded belt. 

“I don’t like heroes, Tim,” You remind him. He frowns, eyes meeting your own. “And Bruce definitely will not welcome me after the curse,” Right, the whole demon curse. His eyes move to your tail that’s now wrapping around his left leg, the soft hairs brushing against his calf. While you’re not wrong, Bruce would have a heart attack if Tim was caught letting a demon (it's temporary, the council assured you) inside his house. 

“Fuck what Bruce has to say; I have my place! I run the company now, too,” He shrugs. 

“So why are we at the manor?” You tilt your head and he shrugs again. 

“Alfred offered to make my favorite for dinner because I haven’t visited since the whole demon thing.” You tut, leaning forward so your head rests on his chest. He looks at your awkwardly folded pose and pushes your legs. Getting the hint, you lift yourself and fold your legs underneath you. He lays his head on top of yours, using his phone behind your back. 

The two of you sit in silence until your legs go numb and you turn around, now watching as he scrolls through his socials. He shifts so one arm holds you close and locks his legs over yours while you hold his hand. 

Now, despite how it may look, you and Tim were not in a relationship. Nearly, you’ll both admit that much. But nothing that ever surpassed longing glances and touching that lasted far too long for the two of you to simply be friends. 

And that was for one simple reason.

Tim was a hero. 

You don’t hate heroes, simply a strong dislike towards them. For a multitude of reasons, enough for a twenty-page paper. Tim would know, he had you make one when you first rejected him. You don’t really trust them, all of them except for Tim. And maybe his strange friend Kon, but that’s about it. All of the rest can leave you the hell alone. 

Your phone buzzes and you spare it a glance; a call from your superior. 

“I gotta go,” You tell him but make no move to leave. He just hums, still scrolling on his phone. “There’s probably an attack and I’m needed.”

“That’s crazy,” He mutters, showing you a video of a cat lying down in an empty fishbowl. 

“And Alfred will probably come up soon,” The time is around when dinner is usually ready.

“Probably,” He agrees. Your phone starts ringing again and you stare at it. 

“I really should be going,” 

“You really shouldn’t.” He drops his phone to hold you with both arms.

“I’ll get in trouble,” You look up at him and he just blinks. “They’ll take my keys away.” He relents and lets you stand but you don’t move. He raises an eyebrow and you smile before flicking him with your tail and getting up. 

He spluttered at the hairs, wiping his mouth as you shoved your feet into your boots. 

“See you,” You wave before opening his bedroom door to your boss's room. He sees the woman sitting on the edge of her desk, dangling her phone. She sees him and you quickly shut the door. 

Flopping onto his back, Tim runs his hands down his face and stares at the ceiling. He rolls over and looks down at your iPad, deciding he’ll just keep it until you notice it’s gone.

—

“Still have an issue with me being a hero?” Tim asks as you’re cooking in his apartment. You’re making breakfast for dinner, considering he’d come back at three in the morning and you’d skipped breakfast in favor of dealing with some demons terrorizing school.

“Yes, Tim.” You reply, setting a third pancake onto the plate. He leans against your back, staring at the side of your face while making sure to be careful of your sharp ear. Your tail pulls him closer and he snickers. “The tail has nothing to do with me,” You grumble, side-glancing at him. 

“Even if I say pretty please?” He bats his long eyelashes, making sure that they tickle your face. 

“You’re making a very convincing argument,” You laugh, pushing his face away. With a small snicker, he pulls his face and adjusts his grip on you. Tim sighs into your shoulder and then steals a piece of bacon, narrowly avoiding the slap from the spatula.

“Can I just be the one hero you like?” He hops onto the counter, watching as you continue to cook. 

“You already are,” You watch from the corner of your eye as he flicks his hair out of his face, studying you. He watches you for another minute or two, offering up forks when it’s time to plate the food. He’s clearly thinking as he pours the cups of juice, smiling while he jumps back on the counter before he eventually speaks up. 

“Can I take you on a date, then?” He asks, eyes flickering from the last pancake to your face. Pausing mid-flip, you shrug. Taking a moment to think about it, Tim watches as your tail slowly moves side to side before it settles on the back of the couch.

“It would be faster if you just kissed me, if I’m being honest.” You chuckle and his eyebrows raise. 

“You’re telling me all of this could’ve been avoided with… a kiss?” He slowly asks and you nod, turning the fire off and then moving to be in front of him. He reaches for you, his fingers curling under your jaw as you stare up at him. Opening his legs, you sit between them and mess with the hair around his face. 

“I just wanted to see some initiative,” You hum and he rolls his eyes before crashing his lips into yours.

[ficnoire2]

A Little Legendborn/Bloodmarked (In prep for Oathbound) Who’s Your Daddy? Theory  

*Spoilers for both books ahead and mentions of Oathbound teaser*

We have about 41 days (at the time of writing) until Oathbound drops and what better time than now to explore a theory I have been kicking around ever since we met the illustrious Valechaz.  Those who have hung around my little page are not new to this, but if you are, welcome.  It is no secret that I think Erebus/Shadow King/The Hunter is the father of the one and only Valec AND Selwyn Kane.   There are ideas I have kicked around and figured it a good time to document them, so…

Here goes

Scent Signature Profile

Some time ago I did a scent theory profile for our crew (linked below) and in revisiting that, I noticed that Valec, Erebus, and Sel have a similar profile that falls in the oriental/woody category which brings forth scents of resins, vetiver, leather, incense and smoke.  In addition, the three of them share a similar color profile (also linked below).  There are many instances of black, reds, and golds.  All of them at some point are described as emerging from some sort of shadow.  These are the most shallow bits of evidence but…maybe not.

Valechaz and Selwyn (Who’s the Pappy?!)

“Told you not to mess with that red-eyed devil, but you did, didn’t you?  Ain’t nothing good coming from a man you meet at the crossroads, Pearl. Nothing.”

I have always found it very curious that the identity of both Valec and Selwyn’s fathers is shrouded in mystery.  Not to mention the name of Valec’s bar is referenced here.  In the Oathbound teaser, we learn that Erebus is essentially a shapeshifter who can wear many faces and be in many places at once.  We also know that he has lurked around the Rootcraft community for eons protecting his “investment.”  It is not yet known who the “Red-eyed devil” is, but knowing his capabilities it is not out of the realm of possibility.

“He may look like a baby, but that is their disguise.  They cannot be trusted because it is their nature to lie.  You know this, Pearl.  Just like his father, he will turn on you one day.”

I found this interesting because it suggests that this community had dealings with this type of demon/shapeshifter before.  Katherine says Pearl KNOWS this as if this knowledge is something common and she should know better.

“When I was young, my mother was killed by an uchel while on a mission.  After that, my human father fell into a liquor bottle and never came out.”

Selwyn says this with so much certainty only for us to find out a few pages later that, that was not the truth. It is never stated that he actually met this human father and if he had, it would be quite easy for the Shadow King to impersonate him especially since he was close to Natasia.  In essence, the identity of both boys’ fathers is unknown.

Peek a Boo, I See You

“Poor little cambion, little Kingsmage.  Leashed by the Order his whole pathetic existence and now manacled by them too?”

Valec’s taunting of Sel is top-tier, pure I will flirt with your girl and whoop your ass in front of her, older brother energy.  Their interactions are always tense and teetering on the razor’s edge of violence.  Selwyn despises Valec, not only because he flirts with Bree, but because he can see him for everything that he is.  He highlights his shortcomings and exposes them to the group.  I can imagine Sel felt this being in proximity to Nick in another way.  Nick being all the things he wants to be and be close to, but Valec exposes all of the things he is.

In all of Valec’s taunting (and ass-whooping) he also empathizes with Sel.  For perspective, as a formerly enslaved person, he would be well within his rights to hate Sel and everything he stands for, but he doesn’t.  He shows him mercy and understanding.

“When you’re a cambion, you’re caught between two worlds.  Always.  Not just two cultures or two communities, but literally two states of being.  Life.  Death. This plane, and the one that calls us back home in the middle of the night.  Most of us go a very long time without feeling like we belong anywhere.”

This was not only heartbreaking because we know in bondage, Valec experienced horror, not to mention being cast out.  The fact that he recognized the unique position of cambions in this universe and offered that grace to Sel only comes with the wisdom gained from the life he’s led. 

It does not seem coincidental that Tracy has given them this dynamic.  The line that he says to Bree “You can’t belong to an idea, Bree,”  The idea of slavery, mental and physical bondage, the Order.  You don’t belong to these things.  The idea that you were born as a unique being and that your spirit is autonomous even if your body isn’t.

Shadow Daddy

This brings me to Erebus.  Here is what we know:

He can shift form and travel through time and space rapidly.  He was in a close relationship with Selwyn’s mother (as Erebus) and has followed the Rootcraft community (whoring around if you ask me).  He is an opportunist and slips into bargains and situations that serve his purpose which is to gain power and ultimately get his crown back.  He is ancient.

The Parallels

The parallels and foreshadowing between him and the boys (I know Valec is old as hell) are glaring.  

The SK nameplate on Selwyn’s door

The fact that they have the same three-letters associated with their names (S.E.K)

Similar scent profiles and color profiles

Bree made a deal with Erebus at a crossroads in her journey, after seemingly exhausting every possibility

Valec’s bar being the Crossroads Lounge and he and Selwyn both being described as “Crossroads children”

The fact that Valec knows there is a Shadow Court, but Selwyn describes it as made-up children’s stories to scare young Merlins, hinting that he doesn't know as much history as he thinks he does.  

Also, in the Oathbound teaser, he has two Black children that he describes as his “Wards.”  I have so many questions.  Was Valec a “Ward” at one point?  I find it interesting that they are Black as well.

The lineage comes into play too.  Valec is evenly split.  Pearl was human and his apparent father was a demon *Whispers SEX DEMON*.  He says balanced cambions are rare.

Natasia is split but if Erebus (Shadow King) is Sel’s father that makes him more demon than human, not to mention the “Assload of oaths” he has attached to him, which are wreaking havoc on his life.  

I hope we get more answers to Valec’s and Sel's lineage in book three.  Either way, I am excited as hell.  I believe he will be key in helping our crew gain balance and send his daddy back to where he belongs.  

I would love to hear your thoughts, especially if you have the same theory that I do!  I have also linked some of my other nerdy works below.  Happy reading!

Scent Theory Part One

Scent Theory Part Two

LB/BM Top Ten

*Color theory is linked in one of the scent theories*

[abbertionaldyke]

to rebuild

y’all want some slow burn sevika and shoola?

summary: now a prominent leader of zaun and a representative for the community, sevika sits at the council, aided by a seasoned member.

1/?

heavy steps thudding, sevika makes her way toward the chair designated for her, onlookers’ sights heated at her appearance and inclusion in the rebuilt council. all sights except for one. settling into her seat with a responding piercing stare to the judgement, sevika’s right arm rests on the table, posture leaning slightly forward as she quietly takes in the others. 

sevika’s dark gray eyes flit to a more familiar figure and narrow in a mere analytic manner. she had stood beside this individual at the funeral, solemn introductions made after the event had dwindled. the feel of the other’s golden claws are still felt on her palm, their handshake having been firm, a lingering motion made by both parties as a silent understanding spoke through the touch. 

facing her new counterparts, shoola returns their pointed looks, a look of distaste blanketing her expression. after all that was done–joint efforts made to bring down the forces that threatened both zaun and piltover–individuals can still find it in themselves to look down on zaunites. if she had the power, she would deny the addition of such people, prompting a seat on the council if a bias is dismissed and a leveled mindset could be put forth. 

because that is what is needed. yet here they all sit, ready to continue a vile cycle that has done nothing but further divide a once united society. 

amid the first meeting of the renewed council, as expected, sevika’s words are cut into, demands scoffed at while attitude-filled responses are shot back. fist clenched, sevika’s brown skin heats, frustration building as she sees the obvious barricade made for her requests. her jaw clenches, teeth grinding against each other as she prepares to speak again. 

“if i may?” comes shoola’s silvery voice, her two-toned eyes looking at sevika. 

sevika remains tense, meeting shoola’s gaze, the stare a stark difference from the others of the council. a slight nod of her head is given. 

shoola brings her attention to the rest of the councilors sitting at the table, the adornments on her fingers glinting in the soft rays of sun pouring through the windows. “i don’t think willful ignorance is the right path to take following an event birthed from such an aspect.”

undeterred by the collective reactions to the accusation, shoola maintains an even look on her face. her voice raises in volume as she continues, “removing the factories that border the fissures should not be an abstract idea that brings all of you to disrespect a fellow member of the council; you are not here to fight against sevika’s wishes or ignore them, you are here to listen, learn, and aid the individuals, the families, the lives of zaun.” 

“councilor shoola, with all due respect, the removal of the factories would pose a massive loss for those who depend on jobs for their families and their lives,” is a response. 

shoola is reminded of her own words that reflected the response just given, but ultimately, people cannot be sacrificed to support another–there is a way to support both, there has to be. 

“with such an obstacle, being named the “city of progress” should be an embarrassment if we cannot even move forward to ensure our counterparts are safe and healthy,” shoola places her words with a firm force, holding eye contact with each individual sitting at the table. she looks at sevika lastly, face softening as she does. “do you have anything else to bring forward, councilor sevika?”

sevika points her words to shoola only, purposely ignoring the others, “all good for now. how fast can we get the supplies to start repairs?”

“as soon as they are needed,” shoola responds. 

examining her fellow councilor for a moment, sevika holds a smidge of approval for the other, yet keeps a controlled expression. she relaxes slightly in her chair, right index finger tapping with an aura of impatience as she has to sit through the rest of the meeting, listening to the topics with half a mind. when there is input from shoola, sevika looks her way, taking in her mannerisms that flow with grace, the sound of her claw adornments tapping the table as she makes a point settling into her mind. when any other councilor speaks, sevika lets out a tired exhale.  

 a sharp breath is taken as she settles back into reality once realizing ending statements are made and the impending end to the meeting is to come. 

sevika is the first to stand, chair legs groaning against the floor as the back of her legs push it away. concern bubbles inside of her thinking about isha and jinx still in recovery even though she is sure vi hasn’t left either of their sides. fuck, she thinks, get me anywhere but here. she can’t stand the demeanor the council holds, can’t fucking stand it. but she would endure worse if it meant aiding zaun and rebuilding it. heels hurriedly click behind her but her mind is focused on the young ones back home. 

hints of that familiar amber aroma makes sevika side-eye her right side, a gold claw coming into view. 

“have you taken a look at your office?” shoola questions, falling in step with sevika. 

fully turning her head, sevika quirks her brow, eyes following the shape of shoola’s face plate before darting to her lips then settling on her gaze. “i haven’t.” 

the mechanism of the door lightly chitters as the grand structure begins to open, letting the two individuals pass through. shoola guides the direction to the right, the long corridor holding various rooms in a simple pattern. it is quiet between the two as they walk together, having yet to move past a formidable barrier established simply from places of origin. sevika holds a deep-seated hatred for piltover, their forces onto zaun too embedded in her memory; for shoola, no bold sentiments can be made for the sibling society.  

“what sits at the council,” shoola starts, “have only a quarter of the minds of who filled the seats before.” 

“must have been small minds,” sevika slyly retorts, casting a glance toward shoola. “that what usually happened if anyone tried to get to zaun? a bunch of irrelevant responses and excuses?”

shoola accepts the shots taken. “usually, yes. and motions could have been fought against harder.” she focuses the guilt on herself. 

sevika huffs, shaking her head, movement in her jaw evident. “so what? takes a war to change your mind?”

“not a war–weakened hands and figures. mel would’ve stood along my thoughts. it is the majority that would’ve opposed.” shoola slows, reaching out to halt sevika’s agitation-fueled march, finger jewelry skimming the exposed skin on her bicep. “though i do think actions would’ve served better than to simply accept battered down propositions.” she opens the door to a clearly unused space, a sleight of hand bringing the key from her person to the slot. 

her trek slow and cautious into the room, sevika surveys the area. calculated steps lead her to the desk, a chair with a different structure from those in the main council room tucked under it. sevika brushes her fingertips along the desk, the mineral cool under her touch while she studies the shaped stone. shoola stays near the entrance, still clutching the key to the room; she is kept in sevika’s peripheral at all times.

“any supplies that you need, make it known and i’ll put it in place for you–”

“this part of a plan?” sevika’s voice is gruff, coated with suspicion. 

shoola’s head tilts as she narrows her eyes. “i’m sorry?”

sevika rounds the table and grips the back of the chair. “get one of the councilors to close in. do a couple of favors. then what?” her lips downturn, watching shoola walk closer, the sound of her heels echoing throughout the room. the darkened gray sights follow the motion of shoola’s hand setting down the key on the table then keeping it under her index and middle fingers as she slides it to the other side of the mineral desk. 

“then what?” shoola repeats, voice remaining gentle. “i have no reason to hold contempt for you. i am only your equal, prepared to aid you and zaun. if you want to do this alone, i can step aside; but the road here had enough obstacles, there shouldn’t be anymore.” she lifts her fingers off the key.

sevika looks at the key then back to shoola, ruminating on her words. she’d be lying to herself if she thought she didn’t have to have at least one ally for this line of work–a primary caretaker of zaun. vander had grayson. silco had marcus. though the power scales have altered a bit, it is still a significant factor in the relationship between the societies. 

seeing that sevika needs time to think, shoola backs up from the table and starts heading toward the door. her direction changes at the last moment, bringing her to one of the pneumatic tubes, her left index finger tapping the mechanism. “anything you need.” 

then sevika is alone in her office. 

[review-anon]

(Puts a mistletoe above Tsurugi and Miu)

Well aren't you handsome and hot yourself...

Can we just get this over with, as I have a lot of work to do.

Tch you are no fun!

*The two kiss awkwardly*

Pay up Akane, you said he wouldn't do it.

Argh curse the fact Miu was too horny for him!

Also where's Kokichi he said he wouldn't do it!

Well given who Kokichi is...I think he lied.

Okay fine so what do I owe you?

You have to watch a entire season of Kill La Kill with me!

Well at least it will be pretty to look at.

[blaithnne]

CBS Ghosts is my new guilty pleasure so take my new OCs. The Blanchet family were distant French cousins of the Woodstones who visited the house in the early 1900s, only for a violent house robbery to take the life of their youngest daughter, Mercedes, and her loyal self appointed guard dog, Horse. Only 8 years old, it takes some time for Mercedes to understand her fate, and for some time she’d be very distressed that her family seem to be ignoring her. On the bright side, the other ghosts are there to try and make things easier, though the misfit collective have a hard time caring for a child given their circumstances, and conflicting ideas on how best to raise a little girl.

Of all the ghosts, she is closest with Thorfinn. He has a soft spot for the little girl.

[feliformiaboy]

an expedition thirteen(?)-strong !!

[seperate images under the cut, rbs>likes!]

[cuttledreams-bugs]

June theme: Parasites!

1. Ectoparasite: Pocketbook Mussel (Lampsilis ovata)

2. Endoparasite: Polypodium hydriforme

3. Mesoparasite: Shark Sucker Barnacle (Anelasma squalicola

4. Parasitoid: Ladybird Fly (Gymnosoma rotundatum)

Fun facts in the read more!

The pocketbook mussel uses decorated fringes and patterns on its mantle to flicker and shimmer like a fish, drawing the attention of larger fish such as bass. Once close the mussel blasts the fish in the mouth with larva, which then attach to and feed off of the fish's gills.

Polypodium hydriforme... where do you even begin. I love them first of all. They are parasites not of sturgeon, but the sturgeon's egg cells- wikipedia describes them as one of the few animals to live inside the cell of another animal. On top of that, they actually develop inside out while inside said egg cell. Once it's time to get moving out of the host, they flip right-side in and in the process grab the host egg cell's yolk and drag it inside itself, using it to live off of once free in the ocean waters. And that's only scratching the surface.

Goose barnacles are a shark parasite! They are barnacles that embed into the skin of certain sharks, extending their root-like bottom tendrils into the flesh of the animal to extract nutrients while the top portion remains exposed.

Ladybird flies in contrast to all the above probably feel the most normal haha. They plant their eggs on shieldbugs, with the young then growing up within the host, later to re-emerge for pupation and adulthood.

[that-was-anticlimactic]

i will never understand how or why the httyd movies did the books such an injustice.

the movies aren't even an adaptation - they stole the name of the series, the name of some of the characters and places, and the general idea that there are dragons. honestly, i would be fine with the movies and maybe even like them if they didn't capitalize off of cressida cowell's incredible books that never get any credit.

the books are an amazing story about the cycle of violence and how vengeance and revenge is dangerous. hiccup says that the past is a ghost story, one we need to learn from to better ourselves. the books are about how everyone deserves freedom, how every creature, every being on the earth deserves to be free. we see that in the slavemark, with the dragons.

and like... hiccup is so different. they did him a severe injustice. he's scrawny and intelligent and learned to talk to dragons simply by observing them! he chooses kindness first above all else; instead of yelling at toothless to train him, he is kind. and in the end, that kindness is why toothless chose to save him. bc even toothless himself says that dragons are inherently selfish creatures who care only for their survival. hiccup is brave - his beliefs differ drastically from both the vikings and the world.

hiccup is a child who chose to do the right thing even at the expense of himself. he agreed to free the slaves on nobert's ship, and in return, they gave him the slavemark which is easy to give but cannot be removed. he was like twelve. and having the slavemark means he cannot be with his tribe or his family, it means he isn't considered a human being anymore. and he keeps it a secret for awhile until it's revealed and when it is everyone turns their backs on hiccup. his family, his tribe, his mentor, people he TRUSTED. everyone except fishlegs, and, once she got over the shock, camicazi. he was thirteen. and even when he lost his memories and was really injured, he persisted. he was told to go to tomorrow and to save the dragons and he did bc in his heart he knew it was right even though he didn't know who he was or how he got there.

and fishlegs,,, oh my god FISHLEGS!!! the did him SO DIRTY!!! fishlegs is hiccup's best friend, one of the main motivators for hiccup. he steals norbert's potato for the sake of fishlegs, he gives fishlegs his dragon and goes to retrieve another, he takes the blame for fishlegs. and fishlegs does the same for him. he takes the slavemark with pride. he refuses to turn. he gives hiccup his lobster claw necklace which is his most prized possession. he is brave for hiccup, he believes hiccup is alive. he fights for hiccup harder than anyone else ever has. he does not turn. his is loyal, has allergies, has asthma, has a squint and a limp, has glasses bc he's blind without them... and he's still a hero despite being a runt, despite everyone even the adults telling him he's hopeless, telling hiccup to leave him behind.

and they cut camicazi! i'm sorry, but astr*d is nothing compared to camicazi. camicazi is a tiny, feral child who can easily best hiccup, fishlegs, and pretty much anyone in a sword fight. she can bring a grown man to tears with her rudery and smack talk. she is recklessly brave and craves adventure and follows hiccup blindly bc she trusts him that much. she isn't in love with hiccup - in fact she doesn't care about romance and love. she gives up everything to help hiccup bc she has a strong sense of justice. she is the motivator, the cheerleader, she finds a positive in everything. she never gives up. literally never gives up. and that's one of the most inspiring things about her: she always has hope.

and toothless! god!!! toothless is *thought to be* a common or garden dragon. he is horrifically tiny, he is literally toothless, and is the biggest brat in the world. he will cause problems on purpose. he has a stutter, he's the most selfless selfish dragon around. he and hiccup can talk to each other. he masks his fear with singing and being annoying. his growth is remarkable. he starts off refusing to obey hiccup, doing the opposite of what he says, making life harder for literally everyone around him, and he's still somewhat like that. but he's also braver, more caring, more willing to make sacrifices for the sake of others. he's clever, which he needs to be to make up for his size and aggression. he protects hiccup with everything he has, therefore, he protects what hiccup cares about just as hard. he was the only dragon that didn't abandon the vikings in the first book bc he cared about hiccup.

and snotlout,,, god,,, i will never forgive the movies for butchering snotlout. hiccup's cousin, the bully character, the one who is horrifically jealous that hiccup's dad was born before his. the one who desperately wants to prove himself, to be worthy, to make people proud. and you hate him, you despise him. he betrays everyone many times bc of the nothing promised to him by alvin and his mom. he loses himself, turns his back on himself, all bc he wants to prove himself. all bc he wants to be better than hiccup. and hiccup still forgives him and gives him chances, sometimes out of pity, but also bc snotlout is his cousin. he can't just turn his back on him no matter how miserable snotlout made his life. and in the end, snotlout sacrifices himself for hiccup. he gives up his life for hiccup in one last attempt to set things right. his death and the events preceding it are one of my absolute favorite moments in the book. gives me chills. makes me cry.

that's the thing with the books - they're so realistic. there is no inherently happy ending where everything works out. the first book begins with "there were dragons when i was a boy", implying that they're gone now. the books show there are consequences to our actions. they enslaved the dragons, they fought against them during the dragon rebellion all bc alvin and his mom said to, and now they're gone bc a simple apology doesn't fix hundreds of years of enslavement. and the only way for the world to move forward was for the dragons to leave and heal on their own. and now they have to learn to live without them. and yeah i've heard the third movie ends like that but. it doesn't have the build up. it doesn't have "there were dragons when i was a boy". it doesn't have eleven books of development to back it up, to make it feel meaningful.

i know that the movies are really special to a lot of people. i know that, on their own, they're genuinely good movies. i can acknowledge that the soundtrack is amazing and the animation is beautiful. i just can't see past the way they butchered the world that i love, the world that i grew up with. i can't see past the way people yelled at me for saying i liked the books better, the way that people gave me weird looks when i showed them a picture of the original toothless, when i tell them that nightfuries aren't even a type of dragon. cressida cowell created hundreds of different dragons, and the movies couldn't even pick from that. i can't forgive the way that barely anyone knows there are books bc the movie barely gives credit to them. i cannot forgive the way they capitalized off the books and then shoved them aside. i know cressida thinks they're good movies and i know a lot of httyd book fans also like them. but i just... i cannot get over how much they changed and how they missed so much and ignored the books. also they got rid of camicazi so hiccup could have a love interest and that is unforgivable to me.

if you disagree, that is a-okay. we're all entitled to our own opinions. i just ask that you, perhaps, try the books out. give them a chance. bc they're amazing works of art and also just like. don't yell at people who don't like the movies? whether it's bc they prefer the books or just aren't into that kind of movie. and just remember that dreamworks didn't come up with the story; cressida cowell did.