#for my boy Brick Frog

[henchmanobsessed]

No RitBotBH spoilers:

Just watched the movie and so fucking happy

If this is really the end, the show was done justice

Let's write some letters though, so it's not the end!!!!!!!!!!

...

Oh whoops this was in my drafts since this morning. Anyway let's write those letters!!!

[threepandas]

Your Biggest Fan: Villian/Yandere Izuku

You Ruined His Plan.

No one was supposed to CARE. They NEVER care. NEVER ask questions. They look, at the red shoes, the note, then shrug it all off. Just another statistic. One more gone, of an already "dying breed".

The Quirkless had been a "dying breed" for a while now.

He bet they didn't even know where that phase came from. It was WAR propaganda. Quirkless population numbers were supposed to level out a decade ago, according to estimates. But noooo! They kept DROPPING!

Dropping, Dropping, DROPPING!

Like notebooks and little boys off roof tops.

No Heroes coming to save them. Smiles for everyone ELSE. Just burns and bad grades they didn't earn, ruined lunches and funeral flowers on desks. Kicking and kicking and PUNCHS until they break! Until they fight back. Until THEY are the problem. THEY are the monsters!

Dreams destroyed and online friends who go silent.

Funerals. Mothers who cry but don't protect you.

ANGER and where are the HEROES?

Here... apparently.

She is... she is standing HERE. Arms crossed. Mouth in a furious line as she listens to the principal spew his excuses. She does not look like she believes a single one. Does not look sympathetic or dismissive in the least.

The disgusting trash around her isn't used to it. Are slowly beginning to sweat. Panic. It is beginning to dawn on them... that there could be CONSEQUENCES for their actions. Their criminal neglect and cruel allowances.

She looks disgusted. Furious. And... when she glances at the supposed last words of Hanako-chan? Utterly heartbroken. She stands, feet planted, shoulders back, as she argues and pulls rank. Threatening to ARREST even the police officers THEMSELVES unless they DO THEIR JOBS.

As is her RIGHT. Because this is not JUSTICE. Nor Vengance. But can bring, at least, closure to the soul of a little girl wronged. Prevent others from harm. And she stands as a shield against that harm. It is her JOB, her DUTY, and so help her, if she must hunt each and every one of them down and HAND DELIVER them to a cell? She WILL.

She stands there, in the cold afternoon light, like...

Like A Hero!

He has to slap both his hands over his mouth. To stop his dreadful muttering habit from escaping again. He... he hasn't found anything INTERESTING enough to mutter about in so LONG. Gotten out of the habit of controlling it. His control is shot. And... and OH~!

Ever since Kacc-... Since All Mi... THEM. He hasn't... hasn't BELIEVED in Heros like he used too. He WANTED too! He did! But...? It was like it just... died inside him. Slowly. Painfully. Screaming.

It HURT.

It hurt so, so much. Everything was angry and grey and TERRIBLE. B...But? But! BUT NOW? It's like a giddy spark of light has struck a match inside the empty cavern inside him, lighting up the massive caves where his belief once lived. I..It's so small and fragile. So WARM.

He scrambles back. Hands pressed to his mouth, eyes shut tight, uncaring of the rough brick he's pressed too as he slides to the wet ground. It scrapes him up. But what's a few more scrapes amongst the rest? He's always hurt. It's his life. It's ALL their lives.

He breathes. Savors the fragile warmth in his chest.

"Hey, are you okay?" That voice. No, no it can't be... his eyes shoot open. Startled he looks up. Directly... into... a.. mask.. "You're looking pretty banged up. My Quirk doesn't have many medical uses, so unless you think you've cracked a bone or something, I hope you're good with band-aids. Fair warning though. All the Froppy one's are already gone. Kid's LOVE frogs."

It IS. His Hero. THE Hero. She must have finished up. Noticed him somehow. Sloppy...

Ah!

Already kneeling, she gently takes his hand. Is already pulling out a medical kit from her thigh pouch. He spots "good job!" Stickers and a few lollipops. He... he has QUESTIONS. For the first time in YEARS. Who is she? What school did she go too? What Quirk does she have? Where does she work out off?

Why did she CARE?

Is it a one off? Would she care AGAIN? Her hands are firm but gentle. She keeps him "distracted". Asking him inane questions to take his mind off his pain. Kind. So KIND~! He manages to get her Hero name before she goes. Sends her off with a smile that hurts his face. Reminds him how many years it's BEEN since he's truely grinned.

He races home. Fingers flying on his phone. His lieutenant can deal with Hanako. Get her settled with her new family. He... he NEEDS too... TOO-!

He SLAMS his shoebox of an apartment open, ignoring the bellowed demands and insults of the filth that live around him. It's only muscle memory that has him locking the dozen locks behind him, to keep out the scum that would attempt to prey upon him.

He... he NEEDS-!

Where?!

There!!!

His "work" laptop. So bleeding edge I-island will be cursing their own bigotry for centuries. If only out of GREED. They don't know what they've lost by turning down those engineers and applicants. But Izuku does. He collects them ALL.

And now it pays off once again.

It take less then a moment. Easier then breathing. And he has EVERYTHING.

Her arrests records. Her case load. Her school records and medical files. Social media. Current audio book. Hero ranking, media presence, the chatter about Her online. EVERYTHING.

It's... it's beautiful.

A "troublemaker" who wouldn't shut up about the injustice she saw around her. Wouldn't stand for it. Got into fights to protect the weak and defenseless. Helped where she could. It put her on the wrong side of the narrative. When she wouldn't shut up about how everything WASN'T fine and what those in power were doing was WRONG.

She was a child, they were not. She HAD the option to shut up and pick her own future over the well being of those around her.

She chose to be a HERO instead.

Like... Like HIM. She was robbed of her DREAM. Of going to UA. The future she wanted, she fought for, needed like AIR.

But... but Aaah~♡ she was so COOL! Didn't give up! She sued. Made a RACKET. And when it got her record wiped but not her chance to enter any Japanese Hero school reinstated? She took the winnings from her lawsuit, her parents reluctant consent, and WENT ABROAD.

Came BACK with a hero license that the Japanese government had to recognize as per international accords. Let her take the final test HERE.

They BURIED her in the rankings. Must HATE her. A real hero, come to SHAME THEM for all they've become~♡ Or, well, HE thinks she will. How can she NOT? When she is so much BETTER?

He needs everything. Bedspread, pillows, posters, sweaters, slippers, MERCH! There's not enough. He should commission some. Where are his notebooks? Ah, no. He needs a NEW one! A better notebook! Oh! Oh! He could COMMISSION a notebook! Oh that's PERFECT!

He may have just met her today?

But he can already TELL~ He's gonna be her NUMBER 1 fan!

[linkemon]

Beauty is only skin deep (yandere) Schoenheit Vil x Reader x LeBlanche Neige

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

ɴᴇɪɢᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴠɪʟ. ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ? ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ᴡᴇʟʟ, ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴜsᴇᴡᴀʀᴅᴇɴ ᴏғ ʀᴀᴍsʜᴀᴄᴋʟᴇ ᴅᴏʀᴍɪᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ. ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀʏ ɪs ʙᴀsᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴠɪʟ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇɪɢᴇ's ʟᴏᴏsᴇ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ғᴀɪʀʏ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ sɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ.

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: 1. ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴs sᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀs ғᴏʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ 5. 2. ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴛᴇxᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴs ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ᴅɪsᴛᴏʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏғ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

— I'm wishing for the one I love to find me... — The singing voice sounded closer and closer.

[Reader] looked around among the green trees, trying to find its source. At first, she was very scared when Grim told her that he had heard something or someone strange in their dormitory. She assumed they were ghosts but when she asked them about it, they denied it. So, complaining about the scared cat, she went to check the situation. There was nothing good to say about their crumbling and overgrown bit of school but it was still their corner. If any of the students came here just like that, she had to talk to them. Crowley wouldn't do anything about it anyway, as long as she knew the lazy headmaster. At worst, she could try to report it to the housewarden responsible for this person.

The girl passed another sad-looking bush. And behind it she saw an intruder. He chose a place near a well that had not been used for a long time. Its newer version was located in the main courtyard of the school, so it was forgotten by everyone. The bricks were covered with moss that tried to keep them in check. The boy rested both elbows on the unstable wall and stared at his reflection in the water below. She had to admit he had a beautiful voice. She had never heard the song but the notes were pure and seemed to permeate her entire being. The feeling with which he sang was truly moving. But that didn't change the fact that his uniform was definitely different from the ones worn at Night Raven College. Instead of black, he wore white.  What was someone out of high school doing here?  A beret with a red ribbon rested askew on his head. Only when she got closer to him did she realize that there were birds sitting on the hat. She took a few more steps and suddenly, out of nowhere, the boy was surrounded by a circle of animals. All the squirrels, mice, hedgehogs and even frogs in the area came out of their hiding places and stared at her accusingly, trying to separate her from the singer.

[Reader] stepped back. The crack of a branch under her shoe startled everyone, including the teenager. He stopped mid-sentence and turned towards her. Unfortunately, he leaned against the well where the bricks were loose. The girl grabbed his hand before he could fall into the dark abyss. The boy swallowed loudly. She could see him slowly realizing what he had just avoided.

— Thank you very much... ummm... what's your name? — Embarrassed, he still held her hand.

— I guess I should ask who you are first. You don't go to our school. I am Housewarden of the Ramshackle Dorm and for obvious reasons no one should venture here.

Was [Reader] lying?  Of course. No one issued any bans on staying in this part of the forest. That didn't mean the stranger would know about it. After the series of overblots and increasingly strange events that had occurred since she arrived at the magical school, she was fed up with trouble. She wanted him to just disappear and let her spend her afternoon doing something else. For example, buying the can of tuna promised to Grim.

— Really? I'm so sorry! — He grabbed both of her hands and closed them in his as a gesture of remorse. — I didn't know you weren't allowed in here! Director Ambrose didn't mention anything but I also admit that I was a little lost and...

If he was lying, he was really good at it. But for some reason it didn't seem like that to her. The brown eyes looked really sincere. There was a sparkle about them that she felt was missing from many NRC students.

— Who is Director Ambrose? — [Reader] asked, releasing her hands from his grip.

— Ah... he's the headmaster of the Royal Sword Academy. It's a twin school to yours. My name is Neige. Neige LeBlanche. — He smiled gently.

If such a school really existed, the girl had never heard of it before. She heard something about the Spelldrive tournament but she had other things on her mind at the time. Not that she'd ever needed it before. She learned many things about the world of Twisted Wonderland this way. By chance. Because to the people around her, many facts were so obvious that they couldn't even think of making her aware of them.

It seemed to her as if the boy was waiting for something. But she didn't know what for. So she decided to take pity on him and offer help.

— Well... I'll walk you to the exit — she said, moving forward.

On the way, Neige told her why he came to her school. It turned out that there was a festival every year that (as always) she had no idea about. He planned to appear as one of the participants, dancing and singing with his friends. The headmaster decided to take him with him to get used to the unknown place. Scratching the back of his neck, he admitted that he had never been very good at reading directions, which had landed him in the wrong place today.

— I think you sing really beautifully — the girl said, seeing the Ramshackle's gate in sight.

She had to admit that when she compared his voice to the singers she knew from home, none of them seemed to compare to him. He had kind of a charm to it.

— Did you hear that at the well?! — The embarrassed boy forced a smile. — It wasn't a big deal... although I'm glad you liked it! — he added quickly.

— You should take up music seriously. Do you play with your bandmates or something? — [Reader] asked.

— So you don't know anything? — His brow furrowed for a moment in surprise.

— About what?

So she had no idea he was a star. This was new to him. Usually everyone who met him knew who they were dealing with sooner or later.

— Neige! My dear, there you are!

[Reader] has never seen this man before. However, she could assume that he was the director of RSA. He was dressed in a long, dark blue robe. Again and again he stroked his snow-white beard and adjusted his glasses. Plus, he showed up with Crowley, which was definitely unusual.

— We have to go — the old man said, shooting a defiant look at the NRC director. — I'll see you at the festival. I wish you good luck! — he said not so sincerely.

— May the best win! — Crowley smiled maliciously.

All the ravens in the area began to squawk.

LeBlanche followed Ambrose but at one point he turned and ran back.

— I didn't ask for your name in the end! — He panted, resting his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

— [Reader] — the girl replied, casting a questioning glance at her headmaster.

The man shrugged and then walked away, leaving her without a word of explanation. She'll need to learn more from her first-year friends.

— See you at the festival! — With these words, Neige disappeared around the corner.

***

Vil looked at his reflection in the mirror. His face was perfect. As always. It reflected the hours spent perfecting it. Healthy diet, training and sacrifices. Hours devoted to self-improvement. All this to become an actor that the crowds will love. And yet he won again. Neige LeBlanche. He got another role. Schoenheit was to remain a villain forever. He never managed to pass the casting for the main character. Maybe because good was never in his nature. Although in the case of his rival it was almost childish naivety, which honestly irritated him.

— Mira, Mira, who is the most popular actor of them all?

— Your search results are: Neige LeBlanche, Vil Schoenheit...  — The boy threw the phone on the couch. He didn't need to hear any further results.

All for nothing. He overcame so many difficulties to get here and was still in second place. Even after that stupid overblot he survived. The dark, sticky tentacles of too much magic were still stuck deep inside him. Not physically but in the mind. In the end, the doe-eyed boy mattered more to everyone around him. Even for Rook, whom he trusted so much. He didn't manage to survive his Fairest One of All, or poison Neige, or even win that stupid competition.

The only person who was still by his side after all this was [Reader]. Ramshackle Housewarden didn't hesitate to run straight to meet him as his curse lingered in the air. And although it annoyed him at the time that she was on the opposite side, he was aware that she did it for him. She told him about it when it was all over. She was the only one who was really there. Perfectly imperfect girl. So out of character with his image. And yet he fell in love. He fit it somewhere in his busy life, full of fame and fans.

So why did this thought bother him?  Did he really need to check this?  He shook his head. He had nothing to fear. He knew they were made for each other. It wasn't a test or a game. It was proof. Confirmation of how connected they are to each other.

He thought of the Big Seven. The Fairest Queen also used her talents. Astrology, potions and alchemy. All this to become better. Why shouldn't he be like her?  He should use his gift. Its fruit will be a beautiful gift. A certainty that they will keep with [Reader] as a couple forever.

He made some tea. Epel's family sent it. Their apple orchards had been popular since he advertised them on Magicam. He strained the grounds and poured the brew into a cup. Little. White. Pure as snow. With a gold pattern on the edges. Soft. It was easy to destroy if you weren't skilled enough.

He heard footsteps in the corridor and hesitated for a moment over the tray. Maybe doing it today wasn't a good idea after all.

— Sorry for being late. I bumped into someone on the way and stayed to chat. — [Reader] closed the door and sat down on the purple sofa.

— Ah yes? With whom? — Vil placed the sugar cubes on the silver tray.

The sugar, of course, was cane sugar. If they had to poison themselves from time to time, at least he'd do it with a slightly healthier version.

— With Neige — the girl replied after a short moment of silence. — We haven't seen each other since SDC.

The Song & Dance Championship. This unfortunate event was the moment when his life spiraled completely out of control.

His hand didn't shake as he sweetened the tea just the way she liked it. After all, he has been an actor for almost his entire life. Was he angry? NO. Perhaps rather disappointed that she was giving LeBlanche any attention at all.

— What were you talking about? — he asked.

— Mainly about you. He would really like to be your friend, Vil... I don't think he fully understands that you don't like him. Even after everything that happened between you two.

Friend. The word gave him a headache. For some reason this boy had made up his mind thinking that they could be anything more than enemies. Neige was as bright as the sun. Vil was like the moon. What he did best was reflecting its light. And no matter how many modeling sessions he undertook, how many articles he appeared in, how many fans he gained on Magicam, how many premieres he had, he was always the worse one. He hated him. So much so that he was ready to poison him a few months ago. He was glad he was stopped. Such a victory would not be worth little. One day he will overcome him in skill and achieve complete perfection. True beauty.

— I'm not going to be friends with him — Vil said firmly.

— I know. I won't push you to do it. I just wanted to tell you this because we'll probably be seeing more of him.

— Why? — He sat down across from her, setting the tray on the gold-plated table.

— Crowley agreed to a new student exchange program. Some people from RSA will come to us for a few weeks. Grim and I were given quite a thankless task. We are to accommodate them for this time. None of the other housewardens agreed to have them under their roof. I didn't really want to give in but keeping this demon cat costs money. And Neige asked on behalf of Headmaster Ambrose.

Vil touched the magical pen hidden in his pocket and touched the cup with his finger. Maybe it was a good day to do it after all. It wasn't jealousy. It was just confirmation of what he already knew.  Fairest One of All . His unique spell that inflicts a curse under any condition. A dream from which only the kiss of true love can awaken. Wasn't it romantic?

His lover lifted the tea to her lips. She took a sip. The eyelids closed almost immediately. He saw surprise in her eyes. However, this expression was quickly replaced by a calm, sleepy face. He caught the porcelain before it could hit the floor.

He gently stroked her face with his thumb. She looked lovely taking a nap. But he had to wake her up. They didn't have all day.

— You'll still have plenty of time to sleep — he whispered.

With these words, he connected their lips. It was strange not to feel her kiss back like she had every time before. He moved away. He waited a few seconds but nothing changed. His heart started beating faster. He tried again. Still nothing.

He felt his thoughts speeding up. After all, he cast the curse correctly. He thought about every word. So why wasn't anything happening?

Heat rushed through his body as he helplessly tried to shake the sleeping girl. The truth dawned on him like a storm of applause piercing the silence after a performance on stage. His spell never lied. So there was only one explanation. They weren't a perfect couple. That's because Vil wasn't [Reader]'s true love...

***

Neige looked around the dormitory. It was obvious that the Headmaster was sparing his thaumarks when he came to Ramshackle. Old curtains, creaky floors and an unattractive surroundings. But that didn't change the fact that there was order here. Grim had already explained to him how hard work he had done (with a little help from the housewarden, not that he needed it, of course) to get the building up to date. And indeed, despite the old age, there was something cozy in colorful blankets, a plush sofa and an old TV.

It was nice here. At least in his opinion. The RSA students who came with him seemed to disagree. At least not everyone. One third-year tied a scarf around his head and began scrubbing the floor as soon as he arrived, complaining about bacteria. Several others, however, started arguing with the first people they met, saying that it was unfair for them to live in such conditions. He had known about the rivalry between the schools for a long time but he had a feeling that some people really exaggerated.

While Ramshackle itself wasn't that bad, it wasn't how he imagined his stay here would be. He hoped to study and spend time together. For a few quiet moments when he can enjoy his life as a student. He loved his fans and music was a big part of him but sometimes he needed a break. Meanwhile, when he arrived, he found a worried demon cat accompanied by worried ghosts. [Reader] slept for the third day in a row and couldn't wake up. Her worried friends, whom he knew from the festival, came to visit her. According to the headmaster, it wasn't a restorative nap but some kind of illness or curse. He was unable to say. The students from Heartslabyul discussed among themselves that Crowley was not making much effort to change the student's situation.

LeBlanche really liked [Reader]. It felt stupid to admit it but when they met, he wished at the well that he would find true love. He even threw the thaumark into the water. It disappeared into it with a soft splash. It's not entirely that the boy believed that his wish would come true. However, when the girl grabbed his hand, he felt that maybe fate was not just a fantasy he had read about in books. He sincerely hoped that he would get to know her better when he came as an exchange student. Their conversations rarely lasted long because he usually had to go back to school right away. He wanted to change that. However, he came across this unfortunate situation and now the only thing he could think about was how to help the bedridden person. Maybe he should join the protest Ace and Deuce were organizing. Her friends were very worried about her and said that they would not wait for the headmaster to graciously do anything.

Neige entered the room. Her condition still hasn't changed. She was breathing steadily. The sun streamed through the dusty window, illuminating her unnaturally pale face. There were students from Pomefiore in the room. He recognized Rook. The boy smiled warmly at him. After all, he was his first fan, which he found out during the festival. Epel, on the other hand, looked at him quite indifferently. He had to admit that his performance at SDC was truly great. The high voice he used was memorable. Vil, on the other hand, frowned when he saw Neige in the doorway. The boy put it down to being worried about his friend. It must have been really hard for him because he looked furious.

— Hi, everyone — he greeted them quietly, walking up to the bed.

— We were just leaving — Epel announced, pulling the vice housewarden behind him.

The blonde looked genuinely disconsolate that he had to leave. His friend was just the opposite. He must have had enough of sitting.

— How are you feeling, Vil? — the brunette asked, standing right next to him.

— How should I feel if my girlfriend has been lying here for three days? — The tone of his voice was as cold as ice. It pierced menacingly through the silence in the room.

— Girlfriend?

If there was one thing LeBlanche didn't expect, it was this. He had never heard that they were a couple before.

— We didn't flaunt our relationship.

Probably because of his career. In Schoenheit's industry, couples were viewed quite unfavorably. Single people were perceived better by fans. He knew something about it himself. Although in his case he had never had to choose before.

He looked at [Reader]. So he had been getting his hopes up all this time. He hoped that everything would be alright with her and that she and Vil would be happy again soon. And, although he felt a slight twinge somewhere near his heart, he decided to ignore it. His friend was a truly wonderful and hard-working man. No wonder she chose him.

He sat down on an old, worn-out stool, right next to the headboard.

— Ummm... hey, [Reader]. I don't really know what to say in situations like this. It's the first time I've encountered something like this — Neige laughed quietly. — I hope you feel better soon and...

— Don't you have anything else to do? — asked the blonde, giving him an angry look.

Vil was standing in a dark part of the room, away from the window. He crossed his arms over his chest. His high heels hit the old boards again and again.

That was not nice. Despite everything, the boy decided not to worry about his friend's words. He must have been nervous. It's natural in such a situation. He'll definitely get over it soon, so he had to be understanding.

— I'm leaving now — he nodded.

In fact, he didn't have much time to say anything. But he didn't want to upset Vil even more. He grabbed [Reader]'s hand. She was cold to the touch. He hoped she would be warm again soon. When she is healthy, they will talk as before. Even if only for a moment, he will be satisfied. He kissed her knuckles gently.

— Wake up quickly — he whispered.

He turned to leave the room. In his thoughts he prayed for the patient's quick recovery. Suddenly he heard a loud yawn. He couldn't believe his eyes. [Reader] was already awake. She rubbed her eyelids and looked around.

— Vil. — Her voice was quiet, but definitely not friendly. — She stared at her boyfriend, her fingers clenching the sheets.

She stood up, wobbling and Neige immediately ran over to help her stay upright. She was furious. He had never seen her like this before.

Loud laughter echoed throughout the dormitory. It was Vil. It started with a chuckle and then progressed to a mocking laugh.

— Him? — He pointed to the brunette. — Of all people it had to be him?

He pulled out his magical pen. A purple mist began to creep out from under his feet. Fairest One of All  flowed across the floor, trying to fill the room.

— Everything's all right? We heard… — Rook almost got hit by a spell.

Magic flew right above his head.

Vil stared ahead. He was aware of what was happening. He was on the road to the overblot again. Dark goo filled the crystal in his pen. Faster and faster with every second. And yet he had no desire to stop it. What was the point?

They were standing right in front of him. [Reader] in front. How it suited her. She was the first one ready to rush towards danger, despite her lack of magic. It's been like that since she got here. He was impressed by it. She was like a legendary prince in shining armor. Neige stood behind her. With his naive kindness as a shield against everything life threw at him. How idiotic. Like a damsell in distress.

— Vil, let's talk...

Prince and princess. Perfect couple. He was never allowed to play the main character. He was always the villain. So where he stood was his place on the stage. On the opposite side.

— True love's kiss! — He heard himself, as if from a distance, laughing hysterically.

Of all the possible people, it had to be LeBlanche. The man he hated. He had everything he always wanted. And now he even had her. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be consumed by the approaching darkness.

If he couldn't become the hero, he would be the villain...

[chongoblog]

My First Pokemon Playthrough

So I've noticed in my time of talking about Pokemon, I've told a lot of various anecdotes that are all a part of my very first time playing Pokemon. I was feeling nostalgic, so I figured I would share what I remember about this playthrough for everyone to enjoy. There may be a tangent or two in there and people who have followed me a while may have heard these before, but hey.

For context, I believe I was about 8 years old at the time, and after collecting some Pokemon cards, watching a kid play Crystal at summer camp, watching some of the anime, and generally being a pretty big fan (I even have Pokemon Yahtzee burned into my memory for some reason...), I finally got myself a Game Boy Advance with Super Mario Advance 2: Super Mario World, some Frogger game (after looking it up, it was Temple of the Frog), Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2, and, of course, Pokemon Sapphire.

I remember that my starter was Torchic. I don't remember why I chose that one, although I remember really liking the color red at the time (which I still do), so that was probably why.

I don't remember too much about my team or the general progress I made in most of the game, but I do remember Slateport City. For those who do not recall, in Slateport City in order to advance you need to get into the museum, which is blocked off by Team Aqua Grunts until you talk to someone in the shipyard. There are also Team Aqua grunts blocking the route ahead

Now, my 8 year old brain for some reason concluded that the only way to get past the Team Aqua Grunts was to intimidate them with a high enough level Pokemon or something like that. So one night, while I was supposed to be asleep on a family beach vacation, I beat down more poor level 13 Pokemon than I could count. I learned later what I was actually SUPPOSED to do, which led to me finally fighting the Team Aqua Grunts.....with a level 42 Blaziken.

And since the Name Rater was in Slateport City and my starter had evolved, I figured it was only appropriate to give him the new moniker "MAGMA MAN"

The rest of the playthrough went about as normally as tearing through the game with mostly Blaziken normally would go. There were a couple exceptions though. First off, at the Weather Institute, after I saved the day from Team Aqua, they were kind enough to gift me a Castform, but my party was full, so I couldn't get it. My 8 year old self did not read this. (Remember this, it will come back later). But I managed to make my way through the game, catching Kyogre with my Master Ball and giving it the nickname "LEGENDARY"

Then we come to the Elite Four where I hit a brick wall. I don't remember my team at the time exactly, but I do remember it was MAGMA MAN which had reached about level 80 or so, LEGENDARY which was about level 48, a level 36 Pelipper, two level ~35 Tentacruels, and some other sixth Pokemon I don't recall. And for some reason, I just couldn't beat the Elite Four with this team for some weird reason. The best I could ever get to was Drake. I felt I was utterly defeated.

That's when we bring a new character into the story. A member of my friend group at the time who we'll call "John" to protect the innocent. Now John had a very "uncle who works at nintendo" type energy to him. The group used to play Gauntlet: Dark Legacy together all the time, and when I got the GBA port of it, he convinced me to trade my recently obtained copy of the Pokemon Trading Card Game Boy game for a Gameboy-Gamecube cables, only for me to learn too late that it didn't work like that, and from there, there were no backsies (but then I got ahold of a copy of Pac-Man VS and Four Swords Adventure then I learned to emulate, so who's laughing now).

Anyway, John saw that I was struggling and he decided that he wanted to help me out. You see, he had come across an incredibly powerful and rare Pokemon that couldn't be found in the wild. He had gotten it exclusive, and I had never seen it before. It was called a "Castform". Now John had Ruby version, so he decided that as much as it ached him to part with it, he figured it would be a reasonable trade to trade this powerful Castform for the slightly less powerful LEGENDARY. I agreed.

And then he moved to Ohio.

To this day, Castform is my least favorite Pokemon because of this betrayal. I was so distraught at 8 years old that I completely restarted my game of Pokemon Sapphire. I don't remember much about that second playthrough, but there's a reason why.

This rival battle on Route 110 is somewhat infamous for being quite the sudden difficulty spike. And since I knew how to get past Team Aqua now, I didn't have an over-leveled starter to stomp my rival with ease. After losing to her about five or so times, I got frustrated and figured that whatever team I had wasn't cutting it. So I restarted again.

In my third playthrough, I made it all the way to the rival battle on Route 110. Then she stomped me repeatedly. So I restarted again.

This cycle would go on for, like, 15 resets. I didn't count, but it felt like there was hundreds. As I would keep on resetting and playing through the early-game of Pokemon Sapphire (which I had practically memorized at this point), I would start to take things a lot less seriously, sometimes picking the girl character, making my name random gibberish, etc.

Eventually, on one of these playthroughs where I started with Treecko, I actually managed to beat the Route 110 Rival Battle! And on my first try too! And thus began the epic journey of a girl named DE.

Now, I'd figured at this point that maybe only leveling up one Pokemon wasn't the best approach, so I was trying to balance my teams a bit better (I guess my rival taught me something). I was making my way through the game, and one day I'm checking out my best friend's Pokemon in Ruby, and who do I see in his box, but a Kyogre. I take a look at his name, and I can't believe it. It was LEGENDARY. John had traded it to my friend before he moved.

My friend didn't know that it was originally mine, so he offered to trade it back, which I accepted. LEGENDARY was a disobedient little bastard since I didn't have enough badges, but he got the job done. I don't remember the team I ended up using to finally beat the Elite Four, but it included my Sceptile starter, a Sableye that somehow knew only Fighting-type moves, and two Kyogres, LEGENDARY and LEGENDARY2.

And that's my first playthrough of Pokemon Sapphire. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.

[mothiir]

sorry to be that rehash that droid de suggondeez plotline (I REFUSE TO CORRECTLY SPELL FRENCH) with big e stealing a wife but could we pretttty ppLEAAAASE get some more mothiir? i am obsessed with the eldritch inhuman but human behaviour you write him with. it makes me want to chew on him while simultaneously wanting to beat him with a brick out of hatred. i have so many ideas. but ill take anything you offer up fr ill live off the scraps like a feral dog, its just that the the whole david and goliath vibe is TASTYYYY. please dignify my complete insanity for just an intsy winsy second because all i can imagine is how utterly FUCKED the stolenwife!reader's pov is. you try fight back a little too much? oh haha, ur so cute, but keep biting or scratching him and he'll sicc one of the custodes (or a few) to really try you out. let you be so overstimulated youre begging for something in you, and oh boy big e'll sooo do that dont worry. or maybe humble you by keeping you basically half bare like yeah not so cocky now LMFAO IM SO SORRY I NEVER GIVE PROMPTS SO BRAZENLY LIKE THIS BC IM A COWARD FULL OF SHAMEEE UR SO MUCH BRAVER THAN MEEE (thank you sm if you do or dont run with anything i spat out just then)

first of all, never apologise for requesting stuff and also i totally respect your disrespect of the French language. as an englishwoman i am contractually obligated to hate those frog-eating bastards (disclaimer: this is satire pls don’t cancel me). secondly i absolutely love your description of my interpretation of big e because it is also exactly how i feel about him. beat him with brick, pat hair, back to brick. I know i have moved away from that content but I still wave my emperor fucker flag and am always taking requests for him

i promise there will be actual coherent fic soon, but for now here is a bullet pointed list of the sort of things that guilliwife experiences (if there is one in particular you want a full fix of let me know):

the Emperor steals you, and does not think to tell Guilliman — why would he? He fucks you, enjoys it tremendously, then has to go and do some important Master of Mankind warp fuckery that means you spend about a fortnight in some random rooms with no one to talk to but the Custodes. And they barely talk! You never work out if they are bodyguards or prison guards, since you can’t imagine that you are important enough to warrant guarding, but you also don’t think that there is much effort needed to stop you escaping. Where would you even go?

It would be so much easier if he was always a selfish monster in bed — but he isn’t. Worse: he eats pussy exactly how you think a man with millennia of practice would. He likes bringing you to the very edge of orgasm and just stopping, pillowing his cheek on your stomach and watching as you whine and cry, partly with guilt and partly with sheer frustration. You end up begging him to fuck you, stumbling out every title you can think of — lord, emperor, sire, master — but his patience is limitless, and he can keep going for hours, until you’re completely insensible, promising every depraved thing if he will just stop teasing and put it in you

You belong to him. No one else is allowed to touch you — apart from valdor, one of his oldest friends and dearest allies. And captain Kytan. And a few other custodes. Sometimes at the same time. They’re extensions of his most absolutely not divine will — they can partake in the same luxuries he allows himself, otherwise what kind of a leader would he be? He likes seeing his best soldiers happy, especially when it’s because valdor is balls deep in your arse, while he enjoys the sweet warm stretch of your throat. You jostle and whimper between them, so full that you can barely breathe, and afterwards the emperor watches as valdor thumbs open your cheeks, just to watch your holes struggle to close up around the shape of his cock. Still, valdor can’t linger too long - there is already a line

He will cum inside you so much you swear your stomach bulges a little from it all. You have nightmares about popping like a balloon

eventually word reaches the Emperor that Guilliman is looking to speak to him as a matter of urgency — he is currently buried deep in your throat, enjoying the cute little gluck-gluck-gluck noises your gag reflex makes as you try to fit him all the way into your tight gullet. He does not ask you to stop this before answering the vox from a distraught Roboute, who is blathering about his fiancée going missing? The Emperor chuckles a little to himself, patting your hair — ah, having a woman to be wed and a woman in his bed, Roboute is far more like his father than first thought — wait. Ah. Singular woman. Singular. Shit.

[whats-9plus10]

Venture Bros.: Radiant is the Blood of the Baboon Heart commentary and extras.

This is what I gathered during my first watch. Hopefully, I'll be able to upload the audio bits like I did for seasons 1-7 eventually! I'll catch all the little details then 💛

Let me get this out of the way. They did not answer the most important question of all.

In the past, Doc and Jackson have said that what they say in the commentary isn't necessarily canon. What is canon is what's in the actual show, not what they explore outside of the show because they're always changing their minds. Sometimes they disagreed while answering questions. Take that as you'd like.

Jonas didn’t abandon The Monarch after the plane crash intentionally. He assumed he died or he ran away before he got there. They hinted that Jonas downed the plane himself.

When asked if Jonas loved Rusty they say he’s a bad person, the villain of the show, and a monster. Jackson thinks he might have been a boy adventurer himself. They compare him to baby boomers forcing their children to live the lives they wanted themselves.

Does Rusty have the other twin killed when only one dies? Jackson says only when they witness the death. He referenced Ice Station Impossible. Brock has done it before.

Ritchie Valens refused to join The Guild and Red Mantle and Dragoon’s (Buddy Holly and The Big Bopper) initiation was to kill him so he wouldn’t tattle.

Doc says the second sons are the ones who succeed in The Guild, not the first sons, because they’re most likely to become evil and that’s why Dean was chosen as The Guild’s successor.

Doc described two episodes he would like to do: 1. "Heads in the water." Which is the heads of characters bobbing in the water after a crash for the entire episode. An all dialog bottle episode. 2. An episode that starts off like a regular Venture Bros episode. Then a henchman dies and everything pivots. 21 calls his wife and says “Real sorry but your husband died in service” (Doc put on his 21 voice here). We then see the wife and daughter (from another marriage) and follow them in their lives.

What is The Monarch's favorite ABBA song? Doc thinks Waterloo and Jackson thinks Take a Chance. They riff as Monarch and Dr. Girlfriend for a few seconds.

Gary's a big Sneaker Pimps fan.

Rusty doesn't have a middle name. If you ask Rusty he'll say the S stands for sexy or science or SUPER science. Rusty’s favorite musical is Starlight Express or RENT (Jackson disagreed). He's never actually watched them but he likes the advertisements.

Brock Frog is the guy that "brings in bagels". A 3rd generation Italian American from "bricklayer stock." He fell out with his dad because he wanted to bring bricks into the future. He teamed up with Professor Vigo Dale, who screwed him out of half of the company after Brick Frog gave him all of his brick ideas.

Mantilla has the ability to make things invisible by touching them but claimed it was teleportation. “It’s all bullshit…and she had money from her past”

Mantilla has been "garbage picking" from The Monarch’s trash, such as Dr. Mrs.'s costume ideas in season 3 that she had thrown away and their wedding invitation.

The guys in the warehouse with Jefferson were all roommates in the 90s.

We would have had a full episode of Force Majeure and Jonas Venture's rivalry.

We would have had another episode of Billy and Colonel Gentleman "John Wicking" after Mischa was found dead right before a doggy costume contest.

Matt Berry was supposed to voice Force Majeure.

Why does The Monarch hate Doc so much? Jackson says “Obviously it (the thought that Debra left him for Rusty) bothers him a little more than he said.”

They called Gary's hair “the popular millennial cut” and made him "half Glen Danzig half Wolverine."

Doc has drunk his own urine multiple times because they pee in bottles in the Astrobase. "Recently".

During the last scene in the movie when everyone is talking, Gary and Hatred were talking about a loofah. Hatred asked Gary "Ah...you use a loofah?". Dr. O was talking about intermittent fasting.

24 made a guest appearance in the "Fan Questions" extra for a few seconds.

They refused to answer the questions about Scare Bear and what Rusty and Billy were doing in the time machine in case they're able to continue the story.

They made a joke about telling people just enough in the commentary to get them excited and want more. (A “joke” haha)

During Prom, Pete and Billy would have studied the Push It video extensively. Pete would’ve entered the dance floor and “boxed it out” to make space. Billy would’ve walked in the circle nonchalantly. Then they would have recreated the entire dance.

[3-2-whump]

(Re)Living a Nightmare, part 2

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You're still here? Okay, it's not gonna get any better for our poor boy. Do read and heed the tags/CW.

Basic Summary if You Decide to Skip

Also please skim this chapter and this chapter if you haven't already, because they will be referenced heavily in the story coming up

TW/CW: rape/noncon, bound and gagged and blindfolded whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, knife play, neither safe nor sane nor consensual, blood (lots of blood), victim blaming, internalized victim blaming, whumpee and whumper unknowingly triggering each other, blunt force trauma to the head (face), panic

NOTE: The inner thoughts and opinions expressed within do not align with those of the author, who themself has never and would never condone such thoughts and opinions in real life. Reader Discretion is advised.

All Thomas asked of him was to change into clothes he wouldn’t mind replacing, which usually meant that whatever Khaled wore would be torn/burned/ stained so irreparably that it’d just be thrown away after. Already based on that request, Khaled could guess he was in for a rough night. He had no idea how much worse it could get until he was blindfolded, bound, gagged, and carried out the apartment and down to the cold garage, where the hard foot-well of the back seat waited for him. The car revved to life, and his restrained body lurched forward as Thomas pulled out of the garage and drove them to fuck knows where.

Eventually they came to a stop, Thomas exchanged some words with the night-shift guard at the old house, and then they kept going until they parked. Khaled slowly started to put the pieces together. They were back at the old house, which probably meant Thomas wanted to take him downstairs, which meant whatever he wanted to do to him would be too messy or too specialized to do back at the apartment. What is he planning? Khaled wondered. He’s asked me to wear my most expendable clothes, he’s tied me up like I used to be when I was recaptured, he’s thrown me into the back like when I was recaptured-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the car door opening. He blindly tilted his head toward the chill of the night and the distant sound of frogs singing. A pair of calloused hands hauled him up from the foot-well of the back seat and slung him over a broad shoulder. “Thought you could escape me this time, did you?” his master’s voice purred in his ear.

A pit of dread competed with the chill of the early spring night in his bones as Khaled realized what all this preparation had meant. Master wants to roleplay my escape attempts. He began shivering, though not just because of the cold. A warm hand rested on his buttocks to steady him as he felt himself being carried inside, through the hallway, and to the front of a very familiar door. Reliving his failed escape attempts but with an added sexual element was one of Khaled’s recurring nightmares. What cruel irony was this, that he had begged so enthusiastically no more than half an hour ago for this man to make his nightmare come true?

The familiar creak of a door opening preceded the dusty, dried-blood smell coming from the stairs leading down into the cellar. Khaled pleaded through the rag stuffed in his mouth and the tape sealed over his lips as they descended the stairs step by concrete step. He tugged at the zip ties binding his wrists and ankles, but all that did was dig the hard plastic further into his flesh.

The cellar in the basement was the only room in Luciano Antonio Costa’s old house that didn’t get renovated when they converted the rest of it into an office space. Mainly because its purpose as a room for torture and interrogation never went obsolete. Khaled didn’t have to see it; he’d been down in the T&I cellar enough times to have the layout committed to memory. Dusty, red bricked walls arched into a curved ceiling where two overhead lamps hung by thick chains, illuminating the large expanse below. A fireplace and all its accompanying iron tools sat to the left, and a rack lined with various instruments of torture was positioned to the right. In the middle was one large table with scratch marks furrowed into its edges, and many other types of equipment were either shoved in a corner or hanging from the ceiling, suspended by heavy chains and hooks like morbid chandeliers. Partitioning a back portion of the room was a large iron gate leading to a small offshoot of the basement, much like a door to a prison cell. Not much lay beyond the iron gate besides a hard-worn bench and several opaque plastic storage tubs full of mysterious items.

Khaled squirmed as he was lowered onto his stomach on top of the familiar table. “What were you thinking,” scolded the nightmare looming above him. A faint swish of a pocket knife and cold steel next to his skin made Khaled pause his struggles as his master cut away the zip ties. “Escaping in this cold weather without so much as a scrap of clothing on you –did you even have a plan?” he taunted. “I don’t know what your plan was, or even if you had a plan, but was it really worth freezing yourself to death?”

Khaled enjoyed the freedom of his unbound limbs for only a moment until his wrists were snatched into a tight grip and gathered in front of him. A coarse and scratchy material –rope, most likely –began entangling around and in between his wrists as his master continued talking. “We have a tracking chip installed inside of you, remember? You can never escape me; I will always find you.” With a forceful tug, Khaled’s hands were pulled in front of him, then he couldn’t move his hands at all. The other end of the rope must have been tied off to the ring attachment at the edge of the table.

His ankles remained free, if only to make it easier to take his pants off.

There were some light shuffling noises before the wooden table groaned under a newfound weight. Khaled felt the body heat of another person leaning over him. The cologne Thomas wore quickly overpowered his senses as the man hovered close. Khaled could feel his master’s breath on his ear and something hard and stiff against his backside. “The last time you tried to run away, a friend of mine advised me to cut your tendons,” Thomas sultrily whispered.

Oh god no. By now, Khaled knew which escape attempt they were reenacting, and, coincidentally, it was the one he had nightmares about the most.

“I don’t want to permanently cripple you though,” Thomas sighed, “mostly because it would be even more of a hassle to care for you, but I will cripple you temporarily, at the very least...”

He could already hear the hiss of the iron.

His panicked cries took on a new pitch of desperation. Without warning, his master’s fingers pinched at the edge of the duct tape on Khaled’s mouth and pulled, making him scream in pain. The rag was quickly removed, only for his tormentor to shove his index and middle fingers past the boy’s teeth to depress his tongue. “Suck,” he growled, “because this is the only lube you’re going to get.”

“Please, no, not this one, please, please no, not this, not this,” Khaled begged around the fingers in his mouth.

The fingers quickly withdrew before Khaled’s head was yanked back by the hair and then smashed onto the table. Stars danced across his blindfold, and a faint trickle of something warm and wet escaped from his nose.

“Let’s try this again.” Thomas shoved his fingers back into the boy’s mouth, burying them to the knuckle and making the boy gag. “Suck.”

Khaled shakily worked his head up and down the length of the fingers as his tongue lapped at each digit. He started to cry. As soon as the fingers withdrew, his pleas picked up again in earnest. “Please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me-”

“Would you relax?! I’m not going to burn you!” Thomas shouted above him. “What about any of this looks like I’m gonna burn you?!” Khaled heard a frustrated huff above him as his master yanked down his pants and underwear, exposing his bare ass and legs to the cold. The shed clothing was discarded, landing with a soft whump somewhere behind them. The two digits that were in his mouth forcefully entered him below, all pretense of play forgotten as they began roughly working him open. “Besides which, weren’t you the one who wanted to do this? You asked for this, you wanted this! You said you would be good for me!”

And he was right, he did say he wanted this. He asked for this to happen. So, with a defeated sniffle, Khaled went quiet and limp.

“So, are you going to be good for me now?”

Khaled’s bruised forehead scraped against the table as he nodded.

“Thank fuck,” Thomas grumbled.

I asked for this, Khaled told himself. The darkness around his eyes became damp as the blindfold caught his tears. I asked for this, I wanted this. He repeated it like a mantra as the man on top of him replaced his fingers with his cock and steadily screwed him against the table. I asked for this, I wanted this. Something tore down there as an unmistakable thin, warm, and sticky fluid trickled past the cock pummeling his hole. I wanted this. I wanted this…

I didn’t want this.

I never wanted this. Any of this.

I don’t want this. Slowly, the new mantra gained strength, and he let the words slip between his lips with every shuddering breath. “I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this-”

“Tough shit,” his master grunted.

Khaled pulled against the rope restraining his hands as he struggled against the body pressing into his. “I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I-” Again, Khaled’s face was smashed against the table. He heard a faint crunch as a new river of blood flowed out of his nose.

“You can scream all you want, nobody’s going to hear you,” Thomas growled, “but for fucks sakes, can you please scream something less annoying?!”

Khaled kept repeating it between every sniffle, like a sad broken record. “I don’t want this,” he sobbed. “I don’t want this… I don’t want this…”

His begging finally outwore Thomas’ need to finish. “Fuck,” his master huffed, unsticking his sweaty torso from Khaled’s clothed back as he pulled out of him. Khaled collected his heaving breaths. It would be too naïve of him to believe his bitchy whining finally got through, but he would appreciate this moment while he could.

He suppressed his sobs and tilted his head to follow the footsteps and shuffling sounds Thomas was making as he tried to guess what would happen to him next. Khaled heard the faint schwing of a different knife being unsheathed. It cut through the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt as his master finally completely undressed him, tearing away the scraps of cotton the knife didn’t excise from his body. “You said you would be good for me, but you have been anything but!” A twisted strip of cloth was wedged between his teeth and hastily tied off at the back of his head. His master’s hand pinned him down by the back of the neck, crushing him against the table with the weight behind it. “You said you missed me, but you’ve only fought against me this whole time!” Khaled screamed into the gag as the tip of the knife sank in between his shoulder blades. Its blade dragged tortuously and deliberately through his skin as his tormentor continued griping above him. “You’re a fucking liar, you know that?” The knife mercifully lifted from the trough it had carved, only to be plunged into a new area of Khaled’s back. “Do you know what I do to liars, boy? I make them pay!” The raw wounds on his back wept with blood as the knife kept slicing, spilling over his sides and pooling underneath his stomach and the table below. It was hard to cry with a gag in his mouth and a broken nose full of blood. He gasped for breaths between sobs, never quite getting a satisfying breath before the pain of the knife would make him scream again. His tears slipped past the saturated blindfold and tracked down his cheeks to join the pinkish smear of saliva, snot, and blood he could feel covering the lower half of his face. “This is for Callahan!” The knife drove down and sliced another line through his skin for each name the monster dropped. “This is for Trémeaux! And Robinson, and Martinez, and Kruger, and Kościelsky, and this-” The knife dug deeper this time. Khaled bit into the gag as his nerves screamed in agony, the steel scraping something hard as it dragged against his back. “-this is for my brother; he is never coming back! Tony is never coming back, and it’s all because of you!” the monster above him roared.

It was in that moment, between the terror and the pain, that Khaled realized with a fascinated horror that his master was reliving a nightmare, too. I need to snap him out of it if I’m getting out of this cellar alive, he realized. So, he set his own trauma and pain aside and began doing what got him into this mess in the first place. The twisted cloth had loosened just enough. He pushed it out of his mouth with his tongue and started begging as if his life depended on it, because this time, it really did.

“I didn’t kill him!” he cried.  “I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him!” Khaled screamed well past the point his throat hurt. “Master, please, I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill any of them! I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill him, Master, I didn’t kill him…” If the knife had stopped cutting into him and the rope around his wrists had been untied, Khaled was too far gone in his panic induced catatonia to notice. “I didn’t kill him… I didn’t kill him…” he rasped through a throat torn raw from screaming.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood

[azsazz]

SJM Ask Game

Thank you for the tag @daydreaming-nerd !! 💙💙 (I do want to hear those redacted answers for where you put tharion lol) I feel like it's been so long since I've been on tumblr or even done one of these but I'm excited💙

1) What’s your favourite SJM book?

Hmmmm I'm gonna say ACOMAF because that's when I was first introduced to Azzy and the obsession began 💙😈

2) Which is your favourite series (tog, acotar or cc)

If you don't know me, CC is one of the worst books I've ever read. It's hard to choose between ACOTAR and TOG tho because they were both really good....

3) Who is your favourite character? (And why?)

Hehehehehehehehe. Az obviously 🥰

4) Do you have a favourite quote from one of the books?

Hmmmm...tbh not really...the ones that stay stuck in my head are the cringey ones...BUT, let's go with "Cassian shot him a glare. 'I don't see you spouting poetry, brother.' Azriel crossed his arms, still smiling faintly, 'I don't need to resort to it.'" THAT'S GODDAMN RIGHT BBY YOU DONT 💙💙 legs spread for mah boi

5) Favourite ship?

Azris frfr

6) Elriel or Gwynriel? Or neither?

Azris frfr

7) Who’s the most underrated SJM character?

Oooof there's so many. Fenrys. I've never gotten enough of him.

8) Which character do you wish to learn more about?

Azris frfr. I want both of their backstories rn

9) Are there any characters you don’t like?

Bryce Quinlan and Danika Fendyr

10) Favourite bat boy?

My king azriel 💙💙

11) Favourite court?/ Which one would you most like to live in?

Honestly I'd probably either live in Autumn or Night tbh.

12) Favourite SJM villain?

Does Tamlin count? lol.

13) If you could change one thing in any of the books what would it be?

That CC never happened

14) Favourite SJM theory?

Azris frfr

15) Favourite Archeron sister?

Prob Ness

16) A character you feel is over-hated/ underrated:

over-rated: bryce quinlan

under-rated: chaol 💙

17) Aelin, Bryce, or Feyre?

Aelin!!

18) What’s your favourite character from each series?

Fenrys, Azriel, Ruhn

19) If you wrote an acotar book what would you call it?

A Court of Smoke and Cinders? (azris frfr)

20) Who is your favourite acotar blogger?

nah there's literally too many to choose from

21)What fics would you recommend to people who love the series?

The Serpent and the Wings of Night

Questions for writers

22) Easiest character to write for?

Azzy because i built him brick by brick

23) Hardest character to write for?

LUCIEN. IDK WHY

24) What’s a character you’d like to write for but haven’t yet?

lol who haven't i written for? hmmmm...maybe fenrys, aedion, or hunt?

25) What’s a court you’d like to write about more?

Dawn!

26) What’s a character you won’t write for and why?

hmmm...idk I'd like to say that I'd try anything once...

27) If you could only write for one character ever again, who would you pick?

azzy. nobody compares to him

28) Whats your favourite trope to write about when it comes to Azriel?

right now i think modern aus...in any sort. or anything that involves angst i love putting everyone thru some shit

29) What do you think is the best/favourite acotar fic you’ve written?

hmmmm...i feel like this is impossible to choose

30) Who are your favourite friendships to write about?

eris x anyone because this man needs a friend

31) For first time readers to your blog, which three fics would you recommend they read?

LMAO ummm...I'll list at least one for. every character

Az: Cupid's Chokehold or Midnight Muse

Cass: In Storm or Dial Drunk or Better Men Have Hit Their Knees and Bigger Men Have Died

Eris: You Know I Always Liked Playing with Fire or Hide

Rhys: Clandestine Love or Dioxazine

Lucien: The Other Woman or My Happy Ending

or literally any poly can't go wrong with those tbh

No pressure tags: @writingsbychlo @acourtofwhatthefuck @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @azrielhours @a-frog-with-a-laptop or anyone else who wants to participate!

[lizzie-is-here]

lonely is a man without love

part vii- choice

“hug me like the night holds the moon” - alexandra vasiliu

summary: fighting egyptian gods honestly isn’t that bad, especially when marc and steven look so good in their suits

wordcount: 2.1k

warnings: language, violence, honestly i think that’s it, not much fluff but i’ll make up for it in the last part i promise

a/n: thank y’all for being so patient with me, this isn’t the last part, there will be one more bc i want the moon boys to meet the avengers 😏 also wondering how oscar isaac feels knowing he’s played some of the hottest characters to exist bc my miguel obsession is concerning 💀 i hope y’all enjoy, love you all sm, have a great day 🫶🫶🫶

taglist: @thefictionalgemini @ravenz-hope @undiscl0sed-d3sir3s @iateall-your-cookies @disregardedplant @sunflowers-4 @yellowumbrelllaaaa @bagsy-not-it @local-mr-frog @thescarletredwitch @jupitersmoon167 @creamecafe @stevenknightmarc @theluciansystem @kingtwhiddleston @spider-biter @mxltifxnd0m @sgt-morgan @no-dont-be-suspicious @onzayhe @namorslit @i-cant-write-for-shit @vainillasmil157 @doublevirgogirl @boofy1998 @seninjakitey @khaleesihavilliard @gaypoetsblog @letmehavemyfictionalmen @bitchotine

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“That’s fucking disgusting,” you murmur to yourself as three bullets fall out of your slowly-healing wounds.

Coming back from the dead was remarkably unremarkable, you think. However, the sensation of ammunition leaving your body on its own was rather unpleasant.

Heaving strained sighs, you wring out your hair as you make sure the room is empty.

“Ok, Taweret, what now?” you ask.

You don’t expect your body to seize up, and for her voice to leave your throat as you uncontrollably spew words.

“There will be an opening in a nearby wall to where Khonshu’s ushabti is at the Chamber of the Gods. Do you see it?”

You gasp, coughing from the intrusion. A few yards away, the bricks open, revealing a shady tunnel with glowing hieroglyphs. You still don’t fuck with small, dark, magic tunnels. But, you suppose you don’t have much of an option.

“Alright. I’m going in.”

The tunnel opens up to a massive chamber, and you can see Harrow and his team at the entrance, confronting what seem to be more avatars. You sneak past in perfect silence, weaving through tunnels on an instinct you suspect is controlled by Taweret.

Finally, you reach a wall of lamps. In front of each one is a tiny statue. Scanning each one, your eyes land on one that seems newer than the others.

“Surprise,” you singsong. “I’d recognize that ugly face anywhere. Now what?”

The same uncomfortable sensation takes over your voice.

“Smash it on the ground, it’ll free him.”

You raise the ushabti above your head before hurling it with some personal spite. It shatters on the floor, and the fog that emanates from it rises into a form.

“I do not sense Marc Spector in this world,” he announces. “He died fighting, no doubt.”

You raise a brow. “Yeah, no shit. Doing your dirty work.”

“It’s far from over. If Marc is truly gone, I am in need of an Avatar. Would you protect the travelers of the night-“

You wave your hands, cutting him off. “Would you shut the fuck up? I’m already Taweret’s temporary Avatar. Go resurrect Marc before I get Wanda to curse you.”

The god disappears in a cloud of dust, and you hear his voice echo from the main chamber. You listen in silence before a loud beeping interrupts.

When you look down at your gauntlet, the small screen displays words that make you audibly groan.

“Shit, shit shit shit,” you hiss, hurrying to the main chamber while also desperately trying to hang up the call. “Not the time, Nat!”

As you turn a corner, you come face to face with a squad of Harrow’s followers, and in your panic, you press the wrong button.

“Hey (Y/N)!” a chorus of voices say. Team dinner, shit again.

“Sorry guys, kinda busy right now!” you shout back, shooting down three people as you whip out a baton.

Wanda’s voice calls out through the fight.

“I felt your heart stop, (Y/N), what’s going on?”

Grunting, you throw a man into the wall before hopping on a woman’s shoulders to fling her backward.

Sighing, you tap the gauntlet, projecting the call so you can see their worried faces gathered around the phone.

“No biggie, I died for a little bit, but I’m all good.”

At the instant outburst, you wince. Probably should’ve chosen different words.

“Маленький паучок, ты такой мертвый, когда вернешься домой [Little spider, you’re so dead when you get home]!”

You roll your eyes, brushing off the term of endearment. With the room cleared, you run out of the Chamber of the Gods, right out the front of the Great Pyramid. Left and right, Harrow’s followers are judging the souls of civilians. Great. More headaches for you.

“Shit, kid. You need me and Buck to come over there?”

“He’s right, I’ll kill whoever did it.”

Firing blasts of energy from the gauntlets, you start taking down as many fanatics as you can. You’d rather not shoot them, but it would be easier, you have to admit.

“Did you at least die in a cool way?”

“Yelena, not the time.”

“C’mon, Cap. Let her have her fun.”

“Don’t start with me, Tony.”

“Guys!” you yell over the arguing. “I’m fine. We might have a new recruit, too. If he gets revived.”

Yelena gapes at the phone.

“You died together? Wow, pretty serious.” She wiggles her eyebrows as you strike down a man trying to grab at you. “Have you two kissed yet?”

You blush. “…Yes.”

The loud reactions have you cringing, but the blonde assassin grins.

“Awww… That’s disgusting. But I’m happy for you!” She shoves the phone to a very worried Natasha.

The redhead sighs as the team goes back to lighthearted bickering.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.

You duck behind a corner, catching your breath. “Yeah, yeah Nat. I promise. I’ll be home soon, okay?”

She nods, and with one last goodbye, ends the call.

You slump against the wall you’re hidden behind, groaning and mumbling curses. When you peek out, you see a giant crocodile goddess swallowing souls.

“Oh, wonderful,” you sigh. “How the fuck am I supposed to fight that?”

“I have an idea!” Your voice says, once again not your own. “Plus, it comes with a rather fashionable outfit.”

Coughing as Taweret invades your senses, you shake your head. “Sorry, I don’t do those weird superhero costumes.”

“Please? It has wings- Ooh, and swords!”

“Ok, how about a compromise,” you suggest. “Just add the wings and swords to my suit?”

Apparently, the goddess is happy with that, because large metal wings form down your back, glinting silver in the candlelight. You can feel the handles of swords under them. When you wave an arm, the corresponding wing follows your movements.

“Oh…” you chuckle. “Sam’s gonna be SO jealous.”

Your moment of pure glee gets interrupted when a small white blur flies by, carrying a screaming man along.

“Ah. Glad to see you back, idiots,” you whisper to yourself, preparing to run over to where they fell. Instead, the wings boost you up onto the nearest building.

Taking a moment to balance yourself, you quickly adapt to the feeling of gliding on the metal wings and swoop in in time to kick Harrow’s ugly face before he strikes Marc.

Marc takes you in. The wings, the smirk on your face, the fact that you’re okay. He can’t help but be amazed.

When Harrow tries to strike again, you cross your arms, repelling the blast with the wings.

“Marc, are you-”

You get cut off by a tight hug and a kiss planted on your forehead.

“You’re alright,” he whispers, almost like he doesn't believe it. His hands hold you like you’ll disappear. He barely pauses before pulling you into a kiss, tension leaving his body as he sighs against your lips.

You smile. “I’m alright, it’s okay.”

In a flash, his suit changes, along with his voice.

“Wow, you look amazing. Where’d you get the wings?” Steven asks.

“Hi, Steven,” you chuckle as you turn. Harrow is finally standing up from where you knocked him on his ass, and dozens of his followers have gathered.

Steven perks up. “Hey, I’m really jazzed about showing you these new skillsets we have.”

It’s impossible to not grin at his antics. “Alright, let’s see it.”

You both break into a dead sprint, with you using the wings to boost you. The new swords fit perfectly in your hands, becoming deadly as you combine them with your baton training, twirling and twisting the blades as you slash through men.

When you turn around to check on Steven, you see Marc instead.

“It’s good to know you two are getting along now,” you chirp before charging forward, cutting down whoever you need to to get to the man at the center of it all.

You strike Harrow’s staff with both swords, tag-teaming him with Marc. You make a deadly combination. That is, until he slams the staff on the ground and sends you flying,

He holds you down, hand raised above you, before Steven tackles him away, leaving you to catch your breath.

The fight only escalates from there. Marc and Steven switch seamlessly, leaning into each others’ strengths. They fight Harrow to a standstill, holding him back from wrecking the world. Usual superhero stakes.

You, however, are preoccupied. Namely with ripping the doors off of vans and helping civilians.

A purple glow blooms behind you, and you can spot Marc holding back Harrow’s magic as you rush pedestrians away from the area.

Blocking bullets, you dive back into the fight as soon as you clear the area. But you don’t get far.

A stray blast of magic throws you to the ground. Hard. You groan as the tingling, nauseating feeling rushes over you. Your legs are too shaky to get up.

When you fight to raise your head, you see Marc. He took the brunt of the strike, evidenced by the crater he lays in. Harrow is stalking closer, raising his staff above him. When he brings it down, you can see the power leaving Marc’s body.

And you can’t have the first boyfriend (kind of? maybe?) you’ve ever had die before he even takes you out on a date.

The brick you hurl at Harrow hits his knee with careful precision, and he stumbles. With a vicious kick to his ribs, you knock him far enough away to help Marc up.

But it’s not Marc.

His suit may be the same, but the eyes are different. More tired. His posture is guarded, and the way he holds the crescent dagger is more offensive than defensive.

He says nothing as you head into the fray. Whoever he is, it’s the same alter that was on the roof in Cairo, and he’s ruthless.

Steven fights with blunt weapons. Marc fights with knives, but more on the defensive. Whoever this is… He fights like you.

You fight in tandem, whittling down Harrow’s strength until eventually, you break his staff over your knee and whoever’s controlling the body nearly kills him with the force he uses to take him down.

His eyes roll back, and Marc returns.

The fear in his eyes is enough to know that he has no clue what happened. He stands with your help, shakily surveying the area.

“That wasn’t you, was it, Steven?”

The other man fronts effortlessly, gripping your arm a bit tighter.

“Not a chance, mate,” he gasps.

“Whoever it was,” you say. “He’s been hiding all this time. And he’s definitely more violent than either of you.”

Far away, Ammit begins dragging an unconscious Khonshu away. You curse under your breath, watching the two giant gods disappear from your sight.

You turn to Marc. “Get Harrow. I know how we can stop Ammit.”

Dragging an unconscious man is easy work for him, and Marc tosses him onto an altar inside the Chamber of the Gods with little regard to further injuring him.

The chamber may be destroyed, but the magic still lingers. It’s residual energy, and takes a while to dissipate, you’ve learned. You’ve stumbled into Wanda’s red swirls and had horrible flashbacks for hours too many times to not learn your lesson.

“If you can imprison a god in a statue, why not a person? The power in this room should help us bind Ammit to Harrow’s body.” You glance up to the ceiling. “Taweret? Got a spell for us?”

Instead of losing control of your voice, you can hear her in your mind, merely guiding your actions.

You nod after a few seconds. “Ok. She says to take my hand, and we can start the spell.”

The strange sensation is back, and this time you’re chanting in Egyptian, hardly understanding the words as a lavender glow wraps around the room.

It circles the statues of the gods. For how destroyed the room is, they’re still intact. It completes the loop, leaving Marc’s hand and ending in yours.

A lavender haze streams from the ceiling, funneling into Harrow’s mouth as his eyes snap open.

“You can never contain me,” he says, voice overlapping with Ammit’s. “I’ll never stop.”

Khonshu appears next to you. You’ve grown used to it now, barely reacting.

“Finish it,” he growls. “And leave neither of them alive.

As Marc stands above Harrow, knife at the ready, your stomach twists.

“While he lives, so too does she.”

“I have to finish this,” Marc whispers to himself. “If not, I’ll never be free.”

You furrow your brow. “Marc. You are free. This is your choice.”

Khonshu cuts in. “The choice is vengeance. We cannot take the chance that Ammit finds a way out. She will kill again.”

“Now you sound just like her,” Marc says.

He drops the man on the altar, and your heart swells.

“If you want them dead, do it yourself.” You can’t control the smirk on your face as he stares the god dead in the eye.

Right before he speaks again, he glances at you for reassurance. You nod.

“Now, release us.”

[laurabwrites]

WIP I'm Accepting I Will Never Write

My brain has been generating too many Star Wars ideas for me ever reasonably get around to writing all of them, so I'm going to start dumping them on here (maybe AO3 as well, not sure yet) once I've accepted it's an idea I won't get to. So, to start off:

Anakin got Arrested at the Start of the War

In this one, Anakin's massacre on Tatooine was revealed shortly into the war (Qui-Gon Jinn's ghost, A'Shared Hett or Padmé having a conscience, doesn't matter it's not the point of the idea and I don't think it affects the plot). Anakin goes to Jedi jail in the Temple and the war proceeds apace.

At the end of the war, when Palpatine sets off Order 66, the Temple Guard who in another timeline became the Grand Inquisitor lets Anakin out. They would be killing all the Jedi, but somehow the Jedi have been alerted and the Temole seems strangely light on clone troopers they could be using as backup. The Grand Inquisitor knows this, Anakin doesn't. He's been in Jedi jail and has no idea what normal operations in the Temple have looked like for the past three year. They manage to get to the atrium of the Temple with the objective of getting out and rounding up some clone troopers to come back with. Except there's this Tortuga fighting both of them. She's not getting in any hits in on them but this scrappy, can't be more than 16, 17-year-old is holding both of them off while simultaneously organizing the Padawans and Initiates to grab younglings and run.

Then the 212th enters, Cody and Rex frog marching Obi-Wan in.

Which gives Anakin the opportunity to villain monologue about the Jedi Order not understanding emotion, they threw him away, Palpatine recognizes his true power, Obi-Wan will see the destruction of everything he holds dear, blah blah blah. Basically entitled white boy I did no wrong (ignore the dead children), you'll regret being so mean to me (enforcing the consequences of my own actions), ranting regurgitating Palpatine's bullshit about Jedi.

Meanwhile, the Grand Inquisitor is noting that a lot of kids are safely getting the fuck outta Dodge and the 212th is getting some good lines of fire. Why are they letting Anakin monologue instead of enacting Order 66?

Finally as Anakin is winding down, Obi-Wan speaks up: yes but, you see, you made one critical mistake.

Anakin, sneering: oh what's that

Obi-Wan: you hurt your Padawan-sister

Obi-Wan Force pushes Ahsoka and every remaining kid out of range while the entire 212th opens fire on Anakin and Grand Inquisitor.

Inquisitor is dead on the ground (sorry buddy, you were just a plot device to get Anakin out of his cell and show off how badass Ahsoka is with Soreasu mixed into her Jar'dai (I think I spelled those right...)). Anakin is on his Force bullshit, not quite dead, as Obi-Wan, Cody, and Rex come over to check.

Anakin: you won't finish me off, you're a Jedi, you're too weak.

Rex putting three rounds in his chest and three in his head: I'm no Jedi, slaver.

Backstory to get to this scene that slammed into me like a ton of bricks months and months ago:

212th never split the 501st off since Anakin wasn't there to get Knighted. Therefore Fives went to Obi-Wan when he found the chip. Obi-Wan got Shaak Ti to distract the Kaminoans, so Quinlan (or another Shadow, but I like using Quinlan for the known connection to Obi-Wan) could dig in Kaminoans' files and find documentation as well as an emergency counter signal. Obi-Wan dechipped his battalion anyway, not wanting to rely on the counter signal being permanent. They then jammed Coruscant's communications when Cody got the Order from Palpatine. 212th then uses the counter signal on the Corries, as they go to the Temple to grab whatever Masters were on planet. The clones and a fourth of the Council go kill Palpatine as he's declaring the Empire on the floor of the Senate.

[littlelightfish]

✨️Masterpost✨️

I decided it would be good to have all my dungeon meshi related posts linked here, to organize a bit.

🍳Dungeon Meshi🍳

Like father like daughter

Why they don't nickname Chilchuck

Chilchuck's nightmare

Chilchuck angst (nightmare post related)

Yeet the child

Where his ears?

When he's a dwarf

Chilchuck's family photo

Awkward hug

Heights analysis

Shitty meme

Senshi stinks

Silly boys

Holm struggling

Mickbell & Kuro analysis

Holm appreciation post

Chilchuck doesn't like skirts

Folke family

Old man jumscare

What's he eating

Animation studio mistake (related to what's he eating post)

Common occurrences

Mickbell + Holm screenshots

Marcille is a furry

Kabru alerting Holm

Kuro carrying the baby around

Holm apreciation post pt.2

Mickbell cares so much

Holm and his undine

Proud family

Happy feet

Rabbit trauma

Chilchuck angst material

Ghost honest reaction

Random Mick & Kuro + Chilchuck

Chilchuck's love chart

Girls

The best canon couple ever

Rice balls

Holm appreciation post pt.3

Bricks×Chilchuck is real

Request from a fish

Coworkers

Achoo sequence

Funny chapter 14 stuff

Chilchuck only has 3 moods

Catching Marcille

Kaka

Episode 5 scene analysis

Hand Mick to Senshi

Holm nation was fed today

Miss Frog

Holm voices

Manga-Anime ep. 16

This lil' fella

Mick's scream

Messy hair Holm

Un-messy hair Holm

Episode 17 sillyness

Senshi's thoughts, apparently

Dad coded Chil

Peak dad behaviour

I wanted to see him sad

Dandan analysis (why not)

The best canon couple ever (2)

Thoughts on art

Holm's Sister

The same picture

Holm's back

Pretty boy Holm

The cutest boy ever

Contribution to other nations

Mick and Kuro

Holm <3

He eeping

My girl

Senshi

Mick&Kuro's age when they met

Dwarven miners

Senshi's clothes

He be rollin'

Spot the diference

Stop tall-man exploding

Where his ears? [Colorized]

No. Fucking. Way.

The fall of the dwarves

My favorites (ep.26)

Patting the blonde

My Holm drawings :D

Tallchuck

Once again, Holm

The fluffiest guy ever

Daughters ages when she left

Marcille's torture

[sabrondabrainrot]

I finished the 87 series as a whole (except the European vacay season like I can't find it anywhere) and want to cry!!! My boys!!! I can't believe it's done!!!

What an awesome show. I might have to rewatch it just to write down more notes and thoughts. ;)

Anyways here's some headcanons about my sweet 87 boys and some show observations:

Hopefully with this people might give the show a chance. It's so delightful and charming. You won't be disappointed.

🐢🧡🐢💜🐢♥️🐢💙

The turtles are all basically 3-4 years old. They make tons of comments about living half their lives in a fish bowl and when Yoshi comes across them they're still babies. When they're shown mutating, they go from baby turtles to the older bipedal forms we know them by.

They're all identical sans their voices. (In the 87 show not only does April have trouble telling them apart at the beginning but so do the animators in every episode)

They all seem to possess super strength and some levels of invulnerability. Donatello in particular had a multiple story brick building dropped on him, which he just walked off. They've all shown varying skills such as bending metal with their bare hands. Raphael as a practical joke in one episode picks up a couch and hurls it at Donatello just to be smartass. Leonardo cuts metal like tinfoil.

They still think of themselves as turtles first and foremost, so they don't refer to each other as brothers. (despite the fact they're totally brothers) and simply address each other as friends. (They're brothers tho we all know the truth 💕)

Something not explained in the opening of the 3rd season, the turtles as babies, before they mutate, are shown with different shell patterns. While it's not obvious which turtle is which it is neat the artists went out of their way to animate each turtle with a unique pattern.

When you watch the show the amount of people and mutants that dislike the turtles is shocking. For a fun kids show made in the late 80's to mid 90's, it's basically a huge allegory to the civil rights movements and you can even take relevance to human rights movements of today.

Despite being so lovable they have only a small circle of friends. Most of those friends at some point have betrayed them too.

The boys have seen two different futures of themselves. (not counting their shared apocalypse nightmares) The first future is where they get old together in a mansion and they're heralded as heroes and everyone likes them. The second future doesn't show them but in the second future it's stated being a mutant is a crime punishable by death and all mutants are criminals regardless of deeds. This is before the red skies studio era of writing. That's before it's supposed to get edgy.

They all are highly intelligent. They can each pilot every vehicle ever present in the show despite none of them having a formal education, license, or understanding of the rules of the road. Michelangelo in particular seems to have a knack for US fighter jets.

In season 7 episode 11, titled "Dirk Savage: Mutant Hunter!" We meet two new mutants named Rahzar and Tokka. They're a gay couple. You don't believe me? Go watch the episode. I'm not pulling your leg. I swear. I promise. It's a good episode go watch it.

Master Splinter calls them his sons. He also calls Carter, his newest student, son occasionally too. It's his term of endearment.

The turtles in this version are known to get sick pretty regularly. (probably because of their still developing immune systems). They always get sick as a group and they totally soak up the pampering.

They in the first season share a 4 stack bunk bed and then after the bunk is destroyed in the season 1 finale they each get their own alcoves which they treat as their own rooms.

I didn't remember which Punk Frog said it, but one of them called Leonard and Michelangelo his Bubba which is a term of endearment for brother. The punk frogs call each other bubba too. So unlike the turtles they were either all frog brothers who mutated together or after mutating they just decided they're brothers and they also adopted the turtles as their brothers too.

Mondo Gecko seems older in this series because of his appearance but he's the same age as the turtles and actually mutated from the same ooze as them on the same day at the same time so he in 87 is like a mix of their brother and cousin? He's related regardless. (We all know the truth in our hearts)

Shredder and Krang act like a married couple who've been married too long and are on the cusp of a divorce but they've been together too long so they just keep tolerating eachother.

They all love the unhinged gross unholy pizza combos. Michaelangelo's stated combos are actually tame compared to some of the things they've eaten. One episode the boys committed to the bit so hard they ate lit candles just to mess with Michelangelo. They get pregnant sardine fudge pizza cravings at midnight. They put cereal on regular pizza for breakfast. They hate vegetables though. They literally gag when Splinter eats sushi. They refuse to eat bugs despite their turtle origins (interesting enough the Punk Frogs don't even like pizza at all first unlike them) but like they will eat out of the garbage. But not fresh handmade sushi.

They're so casual about being in public. Like they have disguises but sometimes they just go out in public as themselves. They also have so many elaborate disguises. In the first episode their first instinct to blend in was to throw on bright neon shoes, various bomber jackets, and start publicly beatboxing and breakdancing.

The turtles get called slurs by Shredder, Bebop, and Rocksteady. The slur in question is "Shellback" . When Donatello makes an evil clone the first thing the clone does is call him that slur. It's so funny like that's yourself. Donatello basically called himself ugly. Why is that so funny.

Shredders go to threat in the show and many other villains go to insult is to straight up threaten to eat them. Like, do none of the villains care about getting salmonella? Why do all the villains want to eat them?

Something I've noticed, they refuse to use nicknames. They only use each other's full names. It makes me wonder why? I theorize it's probably to do with the fact Master Splinter gave them their names and that's the first thing they received? It's not like they're not playful enough to use nicknames.

Despite his fatherly role in their lives, the turtle boys don't call Splinter their father and this is more than likely to do with the fact they see themselves as turtles and know they have turtle parents. (Again we know the truth)

April in this show is an adrenaline junky. She's also a child endangerer. She's helped save the day a lot but she would much rather the world burn so she can film it as her next big scoop.

The boys treat April like their mom in this show. April herself doesn't really get that. In one episode she got poison flowers and thought it was from the boys and went to "let them down gently" because she thought they romantically liked her.

April on multiple occasions reads bed time stories to them. She in one episode read the same bedtime story 4 times just because they liked it that much. She was going to read it a 5th time just for Leonardo.

When Zack, the 5th turtle, was in danger instead of helping him April shouted "What a scoop!" and filmed a child in a death trap.

Splinter believes in wholesome gaslighting in this show. He once cured three of them of permanent balloon-itis with moth balls but made up a story about how it was an ancient mythical legendary cure. Then after they were better he said it was moth balls.

April actually got fired from her job because she wouldn't badmouth the turtles on live television (also for other reasons). She focused on freelance while helping the boys on the side.

April is really bamf. She's actually saved the turtles just as much as they save her.

I just want everyone to know I love these little guys. The turtles are pure little snookie pookie baby bookies. No one knows the amount of space these silly little fictional turtles take up in my heart.

I hope maybe with more word out people might give the 1987 tmnt show a chance. It's really cute and funny. A super enjoyable time. It doesn't deserve the ragging it gets from other shows and fanbases. They're just goobers.

Thanks for reading my ramble list. :)

Also! if there's any fanfic recs please let me know I'm making a list and checking it twice ;)

[tigersullivan01]

Mother figure Alma Peregrine x Teen Reader - little trouble pt1

Having the capability to transform into a Fox as a peculiarly isn’t ideal, people don’t take the time before judging you. Being labeled a thief the moment they know is quite harsh to go through every time you enter a new loop with a new ymbryne, it makes you throw hope out the window and become what they label you as. 

So being sent off to another loop isn’t surprising, although having Miss Avocet transport you is. I never liked the old woman, she is full of herself. Everything she says has to be right because she said so. 

Sitting on the train in complete boredom with my small torn up bag with an extra shirt and my green frog stuffy, maybe i could nick some wallets? 

“I’m going to the loo” I mutter before standing up and weaving through the crowd of passengers, slipping my hands into pockets and slipping out wallets, watches, jewelry and notebooks. 

What? Notebooks contain interesting stuff, like gossip or interesting facts, or a look into the life of person I stole from. Setting back down in my seat beside Miss Avocet, sliding my goods into my torn bag. The old hag grabs my wrist and pulls me out of the train towards the docks, the sky’s sending down drizzling rain making the streets muddy and filled with water. Looking at the people we pass and snagging a few more valuables before we get to the ticket booth. 

“Two tickets please…….there you go……thank you”

 Grabbing my wrist again after buying the tickets and pulling me on the ferry. 

“OKAY! No need to drag me around like a stray dog!” I say irritated and getting slapped across the face from Miss Avocet as a response. 

“Do not speak like that young child! Show respect for your elders and you may have a home one day, ungrateful child. I’m sending you to Miss Peregrine, she’ll put you straight. She’s my best student and a strong woman, she’ll crack you in a few days. If not then you’ll be on your own”

Good can a woman spit less when talking through her anger? I’m practically soaked in her saliva! Grumbling as I sit down on the wet beach as un-proper as possible, spreading my legs widely and sitting on the edge, leaning back with my arms crossed over my chest. 

“Sit properly child! Straighten that back and knees together!” 

As the ferry docks the dock on the small island Miss Avocet grabs my wrist AGAIN and dragging me through the small town and muddy streets, through the brush and towards the loop entrance, out of the cave on the other side and up the front steps of the gigantic brick house. Almost slamming my head against the door from the abrupt stop, the doors open sharply. Revealing a tall raven/ blue haired woman in her mid twenties? A feminine suit and a pipe, sharp eyes and a commanding look. 

“Esmeralda! Glad to see that you’ve made it safely. Is this my new ward?”

“Alma dearest! It’s a pleasure to se you again, although I wish it was under better circumstances, yes this rascal is your new ward. I warn you they live up to their namesake, they have light fingers. Now I must be of, goodbye dear and you child” she puts a finger against my chest. 

“I suggest you behave, or you’ll become an orphan without an orphanage to take you in” with that she leaves. 

“Please come in dear, I’m Miss Peregrine delighted to meet you” she introduced herself and walks inside, I follow after her fast pace. 

“Y/n…..Y/n Fox” she smiles and puts a cup of tea in my hands and pulls me to the back garden. 

“The twins and Clare, Hugh with the bees and Millard the invisible one, the girl with big shoes is Emma and the redhead is Olive. Enoch is in the window on the second floor to the right, Fiona is the girl in the garden and Bronwyn is the girl that’s helping her, the boy reading in the grass is Horace” she points everyone out and turning to me. 

“I understand that you’re not the easy child to look after. Your previous ymbryne sent me a long letter about your….capabilities. I’d like to make my own observations before I jump to conclusions, how about take you to your room?” 

“Yea”  She walks inside putting the cups on the kitchen counter before walking upstairs and opens the door furthest down the corridor to the left. The room is small, a bed in the corner, dresser against the wall and a window beside it and a small rug on the floor. 

“Make yourself comfortable, supper is at five” she smiles before leaving, I push the door shut and pull out the notebooks, wallets and my frog stuffy and sit down on the bed, making myself comfortable and starts going through the wallets, counting the money and looking at the different bruises cards and notes, throwing the wallets in a pile in the corner of the room for later and moving onto the notebooks. Reading through them, and severely judging people on a few points in their notes, I hear a clock wringing. I guess it’s already super then. Walking downstairs and towards the chatter from other children I find the dining room and an empty seat beside Emma? I think that was the blonde’s name and Miss Peregrine. Sitting down and looking over my pre filled plate in front of me. 

“Go ahead and eat before it gets cold” 

Miss Peregrine announces and the children starts eating, I only push the food around and nibble on some meat. 

“What’s your peculiarity?” The boy with bees asks. 

“I can transform into a fox” I mumble uninterested. 

“So you’re a thief?” The boy that smells like death asks. A hole minute and around forty seconds before I’m one’s again labeled a thief because of my peculiarity. Called it!  

“Enoch! We do not greet our guests like that, apologize!” Miss Peregrines practically growled at the death boy. Receiving a glare from the boy as the dinner continued uneventful. 

“Go and get ready for bed so we can watch the movie” the children goes upstairs quickly but i don’t bother, i don’t even own pjs. I simply walk away and transforms into a Fox and follow the first child to the movie room when they come downstairs. I lay down underneath one of the sofa’s as the rest of the children filter into the room, Miss Peregrine standing in the doorway. 

“Where is our newcomer?” She asks confused and i wag my tail from side to side so she’ll se me. 

“Oh there you are, come here” To my surprise she pulls me out from underneath the sofa and picks me up in her arms before returning to her spot in the doorway and turning the lights off. Staying in stunned silence in the woman’s arms, this has definitely never happened, not even my own mother touched me, specially not in this form.

Horace’s dream is about clothes, suits and ties and that fancy stuff I’ll never afford. After that I’m carried outside and put down in the slightly damp grass as the others prepare for reset. A few smaller fighter planes flights over us followed by a larger aircraft that drops the bomb, after the day is rewinded again we all head inside. I quickly run upstairs to my room and curl up in a ball wrapped inside my frog stuffy and the covers, I hear the clicking of heals and feel the smell of Miss Peregrine as she enters the room. 

“Good night Y/n” she says before leaving again. I lay there for a few minutes, another first, my first time someone wished me a good night. Odd 

Hello I give you this as an apology for the latest one i posted, it wasn’t good. I’ll do the second part as soon as possible, I’m myself not patient when it comes to waiting for upcoming parts. - Tiger

[baelontargaryen]

Daenerys & The evolution of “If I look back I am lost”

She was walking down a long hall beneath high stone arches. She could not look behind her, must not look behind her. There was a door ahead of her, tiny with distance, but even from afar, she saw that it was painted red. She walked faster, and her bare feet left bloody footprints on the stone.

…

Darkness, Dany thought. The terrible darkness sweeping up behind to devour her. If she looked back she was lost. “My son was alive and strong when Ser Jorah carried me into this tent,” she said. “I could feel him kicking, fighting to be born.”

…

Had she? Had she? If I look back I am lost. “The price was paid,” Dany said. “The horse, my child, Quaro and Qotho, Haggo and Cohollo. The price was paid and paid and paid.” She rose from her cushions. “Where is Khal Drogo? Show him to me, godswife, maegi, bloodmage, whatever you are. Show me Khal Drogo. Show me what I bought with my son’s life.”

…

If I look back I am lost. “It was a cruel fate,” Dany said, “yet not so cruel as Mago’s will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and every god that lives. I swear it by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. Before I am done with them, Mago and Ko Jhaqo will plead for the mercy they showed Eroeh.”

…

“This was no god’s work,” Dany said coldly. If I look back I am lost. “You cheated me. You murdered my child within me.”

…

Inside the tent Dany found a cushion, soft silk stuffed with feathers. She clutched it to her breasts as she walked back out to Drogo, to her sun-and-stars. If I look back I am lost. It hurt even to walk, and she wanted to sleep, to sleep and not to dream.

— Daenerys IX, AGOT

“Aggo,” Dany called, paying no heed to Jhogo's words. If I look back I am lost. “To you I give the dragonbone bow that was my bride gift.” It was double-curved, shiny black and exquisite, taller than she was. “I name you ko, and ask your oath, that you should live and die as blood of my blood, riding at my side to keep me safe from harm.”

…

She could feel the eyes of the khalasar on her as she entered her tent. The Dothraki were muttering and giving her strange sideways looks from the corners of their dark almond eyes. They thought her mad, Dany realized. Perhaps she was. She would know soon enough. If I look back I am lost.

— Daenerys X, AGOT

If I look back I am lost, Dany told herself the next morning as she entered Astapor through the harbor gates. She dared not remind herself how small and insignificant her following truly was, or she would lose all courage. [...]

— Daenerys III, ASOS

If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

— Daenerys II, ADWD

“Continue as we planned. Gather food, as much as you can.” If I look back I am lost. “We must close the gates and put every fighting man upon the walls. No one enters, no one leaves.”

— Daenerys VI, ADWD

One would be dead before the sun went down. No queen has clean hands, Dany told herself. She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost.

…

Then you truly are a fool, Prince Frog. Dany gave her wild children one last lingering look. She could hear the dragons screaming as she led the boy back to the door, and see the play of light against the bricks, reflections of their fires. If I look back, I am lost. “Ser Barristan will have summoned a pair of sedan chairs to carry us back up to the banquet, but the climb can still be wearisome.” Behind them, the great iron doors closed with a resounding clang. “Tell me of this other Daenerys. I know less than I should of the history of my father’s kingdom. I never had a maester growing up.” Only a brother.

— Daenerys VIII, ADWD

Keep walking. If I look back I am lost.

...

No, Dany told herself. If I look back I am lost. She might live for years amongst the sunbaked rocks of Dragonstone, riding Drogon by day and gnawing at his leavings every evenfall as the great grass sea turned from gold to orange, but that was not the life she had been born to. [...]

...

Dany watched him go. When the sound of his hooves had faded away to silence, she began to shout. She called until her voice was hoarse … and Drogon came, snorting plumes of smoke. The grass bowed down before him. Dany leapt onto his back. She stank of blood and sweat and fear, but none of that mattered. “To go forward I must go back,” she said. Her bare legs tightened around the dragon’s neck. She kicked him, and Drogon threw himself into the sky. Her whip was gone, so she used her hands and feet and turned him north by east, the way the scout had gone. Drogon went willingly enough; perhaps he smelled the rider’s fear.

— Daenerys X, ADWD

[historia-vitae-magistras]

The other asks got me thinking - what would people's impressions be of Alfred/Matt/Jack/Zee if their only information was how Arthur talks about them?

(Also, I feel super obnoxious asking but - did you get the ask I sent about the fic with Matt and Alfred in 1920? I just want to make sure Tumblr didn't eat it like it ate the one I sent about the Eirian's death fic.)

Not obnoxious at all!!! it means a lot you ask after them and I did! Your comments take me like 10-15 business days to process because they short circuit my silly brain with thanks and joy. This got really meandering and I apologize in advance.

In the years before Arthur knows what Alfred is going to be, and its almost only human fatherhood, everyone with ears knows how amazing Alfred is. The reckless abandonment of stoicism to a storm of delight, fascination and joy. He's probably owned that estate, his bribe from the Normans, for centuries and barely touched it until Alfred's born and suddenly the living standards he was fine with aren't good enough. That chunky giant cherub he carries around people don't need to hear anything to see how incredible Arthur finds the lad. And Alfred learns to talk and to read and to live, that doesn't change much. His boy is so bright, so tall, so headstrong, such a good boy, such a credit to his father. Even when he's locked up, being prepped for a burning, this man is thinking, talking, and celebrating about his boy. Later, in the aftermath of when Alfred shot his jaw off at Yorktown, Arthur drunkenly can list all Alfred's flaws, concoct a story about how the lad caught the cock-pox and died and then start babbling about how proud he is. That keeps up for the rest of history. Alfred probably even gets verbal recognition of pride. That respect, that recognition. Father and sun, shade and shadow, respectively. It's bizarre how well they work together now. Some onlookers might not be able to make out what Arthur feels. He says the best things with the most dismissive tone and the worst things in the most affectionate way.

Matt... probably kind of vague but mostly pleasant. The bricks don't usually report on the mortar. The farm hands when he's young raise their eyebrows at the wee frog who feeds the chickens and hides in the rafters and behind the furniture and does his best to be out of the way and forgotten. Humans mostly regarded him as a ward but the memory and scandal of Alfred before him overshadowed his early British existence. Later, especially in the 19th century, humans are very confused by him because Arthur repeatedly denies him inheritance rights, he never got Arthur's name. He might be the oddest of Arthur's children to on-lookers. In more modern times, Arthur is much more likely to mention him. Sweet boy. Thoughtful lad. A right conch, that one is.

Jack is all over the place, much like Alfred. Arthur is as equally as worried as he is frustrated with him a lot when he's little, and some when he's older. When he was a baby, everyone heard what a smiley little thing he was. Jack would tumble down little hills shrieking with laughter, tell the neighbor she smelled funny, and end up in trees like a spooked cat. The neighbours have been paid so much money because Jack was always liberating livestock or riding whatever horse he fancied. When he's older, everyone can see him and Zee racing their horses like absolute madmen all over the property. Odd little thing who will complain through church so much Arthur can't make him go, often on the shoulders of that older pointy one. In the late 18th century, bastardy was hardly a crime and Arthur didn't really have to really outline Jack's existence to humans so they just assumed he was the natural son from a long naval career. A bright, wild little thing, who grows into the broad and jolly lad always making losing bets at the horse races who is the only one of Arthur's children who can regularly drink the be-pickled old fart under the table. In the modern day, Jack is known as the loudest, laughing, happy lad with a very large collection of animals and a lot of biology credentials.

Zee is probably his most mentioned child. His blue stocking baby girl who, unbeknownst to the old fart, has killed him a handful of times because that cranky, sweet, clever, obedient veneer belies a will just as strong as his and a defiant streak that might be wider than Alfred's, just sneakier. Unlike his boys, who had the benefit of cocks, he's much more vocal about Zee and her talents and virtues. It's when she's born that he starts making up stories that make her and Jack his legitimate offspring and he's always talking about her, how bright she is, how clever because on some level he is aware she is at a significant disadvantage due to being a girl and easier to other. British titles break my fucking brain but he might have upgraded his own title at some point just to give her the option of a title or courtesy title which she only ever rarely used before WW2 if it at all. Jack gives her shit constantly for being the right honourable kiwibird. When she's little its all about how sweet, pretty bright, clever and grumpy she is. What a credit to her father! He'll never let her marry! And now is much more about her accomplishments, the things they enjoy, his pride in what she's allowed to be now through a lens of utter affectionate sentimentality.

[zipzapzopzoop]

There's a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow

Chapter 11: Follow the Yellow Brick Road

Lewis lied and told his parents he was carpooling to school with a friend today. 

He hate, hate, hates lying- especially to his new parents. But this was serious. He never would’ve done so if his family wasn’t in danger.

Lewis walked with Wilbur and Mrs. Robinson through the city, looking for any traces of the others. It would almost be fun if they weren’t so worried. Well… why does it have to be bad? Maybe it can be fun!

“Okay… I have an idea,” Lewis began.

“How about we make a little game out of it? First person to find a clue wins?”

At first he worried he was being insensitive… until the others’ faces brightened. Morale was up! “Alright…” Franny nodded. “Let’s think for a minute… If they could go anywhere… where would they go?”

------

Downtown was first, and It didn’t take long for things to begin popping up.

Wilbur pointed up at a blue stripe painted on the side of a building. 

“That’s one point for Wilbur Robinson!”

“Nicely done!” Franny ruffled his hair. Lewis took a good look at the wall. He suddenly noticed another stripe - purple this time- on the ground, leading down the same path. 

“I think he’s trying to lead us somewhere.”

Franny and Wilbur looked at the purple arrow. Wilbur glanced over and saw another yellow arrow painted on a fence. It also pointed in the same direction.

“Laszlo, you’re a genius…” Wilbur mumbled and began to follow, Lewis and Franny in tow. 

Suddenly, Franny froze. “Are you-”

Franny put up a hand.

“Wait. Did you hear that?”

“Hear what-”

Ribbit!

Franny spun around and practically dove into the pile of trash. She threw things aside, digging up the source of the little sound. There he is! A little frog in a suit. His leg was stuck under a garbage bag. The moment Franny moved it, he sprang up into Franny’s arms and clambered to her shoulder.

“Frankie! I’m so glad you’re okay! Are you hurt?”

“Not at all, just a little sore. Dodged a mean lookin’ cat and got my leg stuck. Boy am I glad you’re here.”

Lewis realized no matter how many times he sees them, he may never get used to seeing talking frogs.

Franny gave Frankie a light pet on the head and despite the tough demeanor, Frankie couldn’t help a happy croak.

------

Tallulah felt like she was going in circles.

When the paint on the wall began to take her to a darker part of town, the alleys stretched longer, the people were meaner, and the air reeked of all kinds of disgusting things. She had climbed a fire escape and slept there, but got no rest. Every minute that passed, she grew more worried about her brother. 

And now she was back to navigating the alleyways.

Tallulah was so focused on looking up at the paint that she almost walked into the chain link fence in front of her. She frowned at it. Maybe she’d find another way- around…

A low growling froze her in place.

She turned around to find two big stray dogs. They looked mean… and hungry.

Tallulah made a small sound and backed into the fence. “Hey… gentle…”

She knew it did nothing, but it was better than not trying at all, right… right?

A shriek escaped her throat when the dogs charged. 

Another dog squeezed under the fence and bit at one of the dogs. 

“Buster?!”

The two began to scrap. Buster was small but he fought with everything he had.

The other dog began to close in on her and was suddenly hit with- a meatball?

“Incoming!”

Tallulah looked up just in time to see Gaston jump the fence and get between her and the dogs. Buster let out a loud pained cry and Gaston turned his canon on the stray attacking him. Tallulah gasped when the other dog snuck up behind Gaston and latched onto his leg, earning a yell from the stuntman.

Tallulah looked around frantically and grabbed the first thing she saw - a sledgehammer. “Get back!” She swung at the ground, hitting the concrete and sending the dog away from her uncle. Gaston shot at the other dog and it let go of Buster, scampering away. “Bad dog!” Tallulah shouted, narrowly missing the stray and hitting the ground again. “Leave my dog alone, asshole!” Finally the strays retreated, tails between their legs. Good. Tallulah nodded with a huff. 

Don’t fuck with the Robinsons.