#i have screwed it up in the past which is why i did research this time

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I know you?

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: In the aftermath of a brief Kidnapping, Red Hood seems to think your important and wont stop hanging around your apartment.

Or in other terms, Jason got scared you were gonna die and doesn’t want to leave you alone

Notes: Reader is a waitress at a local bookstore/coffee shop that Jason frequents and he has grown very fond of her. They are vague acquaintances And she does not know that Jason is Red Hood. This is literally my first-ever attempt at a fanfic and Jason Todd has been rattling around in my brain. I might attempt to make this like a short series or something. Anyway, I hope it's enjoyed!!

“I think I have a new favorite stalker,” you say loudly out your open window.

 Keeping your window open in Gotham was probably the worst idea you could ever have but your curiosity got the better of you when started to notice the fleeting red hanging out across the street and occasionally on your fire escape over the past two weeks. At first you were worried considering your recent encounter with Scarecrow as an attempted research rat.

However, the longer the red stayed near the easier it became to recognize. His helmet was shiny, which is what made it so easy to spot him. How that was helpful to a vigilante you didn’t know. Red hood was watching you and you had a feeling it was to make sure you were okay. You had heard of other bats checking on Civilians after traumatic incidents when they could, but every night for two weeks seems a bit excessive and he hasn’t actually talked to you. So what was he doing?

With no response to your jab, you lean out your window and repeat yourself, making a point to stare at the red helmet on the building across the street.

“I said I think I have a new favorite stalker!” You continue to stare him down.

Even in the minimal street lighting you can see his body tense, ready to run.

“Maybe he’d like to chat?” you tilt your head in questioning. You don’t why you asked. You were bad at keeping a regular conversation. If he came over and did, in fact, decide to chat, it might end up a short conversation. 

A clattered thud pulls you from your thoughts and you gaze turns from the opposite roof top to the very large man now standing on your fire escape next to your window. You can’t help but stare at him. 6” something and built like a brick wall. Intimidating even leaning against the building.

Was he this big when he saved me?

“Hi?” is the only response you could muster. The urge to slam the window closed and shut your curtains itches at your finger tips. He stares at you, or at least you assume as much, the helmets white eyes giving away nothing. No wonder people were terrified of Red Hood. You haven’t even done anything wrong and you could wet yourself  right here and now.

“Hi” You don’t know why your shocked to hear the modulated voice. He had talked to when he saved you from Scarecrow but it was still strange to hear. Slightly robotic but definitely a person underneath.

You realize that, maybe, you’ve been staring for too long.

“Tea?” you back away from the window and head for the kitchen expecting him to follow, as well as taking a moment to breath.

You just invited a good/bad vigilante into your home! What is wrong with you?  Your mind is a swirling, anxious debate as you fill your kettle.

“I only have Green tea, I hope you don’t mind.” you yell from the kitchen, unsure if he was even in the apartment.

“Not at all” His voice is close then you anticipated, assuming he stay close to the window.

Instead you turn to find him sitting comfortably at your dining room table, watching you move about the kitchen. He looks out of place in your soft warm toned home. His brown leather jacket the only thing that could blend in. The harsh red bat on his chest sticking out like a sore thumb. Your gaze lingers a moment at the holsters on his thighs, suddenly realizing that if he wanted to do something to you, you were screwed. You turn back to your cabinets and pull out a couple of mugs, pushing away the thoughts. Red Hood was good guy, despite what previous attempts at bad he had in the past. You stand at the counter and stare at your kettle, willing it to heat faster. After a moment, You hear a distorted sigh.

“You wanted to talk?” Red Hood asks

You shrug your shoulders without turning, not entirely prepared for a conversation just yet. Red Hood doesn’t push you. The kettle begins to whistle, and you pour the two mugs, settling tea bags into them. You pick them up and set one in front of red hood, and settle into the seat opposite his, blowing on your tea. You take a sip and promptly burn your tongue, hissing in pain.

“it’s hot”

Your eyes fly up to Red Hood. You choke out a thanks, Having not realized he had taken off his Helmet. You let eye linger across his face, very handsome. A scar on his lips, that rests in a smirk, and another across his cheek. As you eye move up you let out a startled laugh, Another mask keeps his eyes hidden.

“What?” He asks, The smirk on his lips grows.

As your laughing fit slows, you pause to breath.

“You wear two masks.” You pause waiting for him to laugh. All he does is furrow his brows.

“it’s funny” you insist but he doesn’t respond. You settle down again. Well as much as you can considering the man in front of you, staring at your mug, slightly embarrassed

“So I’m your favorite stalker? You got a few?” Red's voice rings out in the silence. It’s rough and deep, like he’d been yelling.

A flush creeps up your face. If you were embarrassed before, you were definitely embarrassed now. It had taken you all day to come up with the throw away comment. You thought It was funny. You also didn’t think you would get this far in your interaction with Red Hood.

“Not really, just the one I hope” you chance a glance at him to find him still unsettlingly staring at you as a he takes a sip of his tea, now cooled. Your mind searches for what else to say.

“That’s good, I wouldn’t want that either” Jason finally breaks eye contact with you, looking around your apartment.

With his stare no longer on you, you take the opportunity to really take him in. Despite the scars on his face, there was kindness there. And despite his intimidating stature, he seemed to pull himself in, like he was afraid to take up space. His forearms exposed through his suit. What a weird design. Not that you were complaining. Overall, Red Hood was hot. You flush at the thought.

“Thank you, by the way” you rush out, “for saving me… it really means a lot”

Jason turns his gaze back to you. You brave up and hold his stare. Suddenly thinking, he looks familiar. You furrow your brows for a moment.

“Do I know you?” You ask before you can stop yourself. You physically cringe and try to back track.

“I mean, obviously I know you, you saved my life and all but I mean like I know your face? Maybe, not that it matters. Course you wouldn’t tell me if I did know your civilian identity because then it wouldn’t be a secret. I just think I know your face but that doesn’t mean that I want you to tell me. And maybe you just have one of those faces…” you continue to ramble some more. Jason watches you carefully and finishes his tea. You pause to breath in your rant and he jumps in.

“Thanks for the tea” he grabs his Helmet, sliding it on before continuing, voice changed, “and your welcome, for saving you.”

You watches as he walks back toward the window, frozen and unsure what to do. As climbs out onto the fire escape you yell out.

“Your welcome and you don’t have to hide outside, you can come in next time.”

He’s gone before even finish the sentence. You sink back in your chair.

What is wrong with you? Why are you so awkward? That was terrible!

You try to push the interaction from your mind as you close the window and go about spot cleaning your apartment. Once done your anxious thoughts return.

This is going to be a long night. You think as you turn into bed.

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 6

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, language, PTSD, violence, mention of drugs, mention of torture, mentally unstable Soldier Boy, anger issues

Word Count: 3127

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

For the previous three days, Soldier Boy, Butcher, and Hughie had been searching for you and researching research from several decades ago. Ben wasn't doing well since he was becoming more and more impatient every day and was preoccupied with what he had done to you. The most difficult part was that you might still be tortured while he is free, in spite of his failings. He was struggling not to punch the two idiots who said they could help him find you, but the fact was that he felt guilty for not finding you quicker.

Soldier Boy was constantly smoking weed, and Hughie was staring at the screen of the device he had in his lap, which he called his "laptop." Soldier Boy was taken aback to discover that the device's internet genuinely knew everything. He studied everything fascinating about the modern world during the night so that when he found you, he could teach you such things.

“According to an official statement, Y/N betrayed the company by selling specific highly confidential information to Russia. This had to have happened after you were captured and taken to Russia. Am I correct?” Hughie questioned, showing Soldier Boy the date.

Ben became outraged and said with rage, “Yes,” taking a tenth sniff at the drugs that were on the table. “She didn't rebel against the government; screw that. Selling information to Russia? She wouldn't even offer her flowers for sale.” He truly wanted to prevent himself from punching Hughie or the internet. “Fucking snakes.”

Hughie and Butcher exchanged a look as Soldier Boy went on to swear and praise your innocence. Hughie got a bit anxious when he heard his heater's alarm go off.

With a swift “Okay, okay,” Hughie calmed Soldier Boy. “You can't always rely on the Internet. Everyone knows that already.”

With a suspicious voice, Butcher asked Soldier Boy, glancing at the TV from Hughie's other side, “Why did she leave them though? There has to have been something that happened.”

Soldier Boy was making a lot of effort to move past these painful recollections in order to start over, but those guys were a little too inquisitive and were doing everything in their power to make him feel uncomfortable. He lied, not knowing what to say, saying, “I don't know.” He could feel the heat rising in his chest every second as a result of their pointless questions.

Soldier Boy inhaled deeply and paused for a moment, ruminating on the day he fired you from the team in a very jackass way. If he had seen the previous version himself, he would have suffered a major head injury. You wouldn't have had to go through such things if only he had listened to you once. He caused you to be hurt in every manner possible.

“She didn't do anything wrong, yet I dismissed her from the squad. Noir is the reason everything happened. What a fucking  traitor!” In an attempt to hide his errors by placing the blame elsewhere, Soldier Boy said it aggressively.

Butcher's eyebrows rose up, and he turned to face Hughie, who had been trying to figure out what Soldier Boy was saying.

“What action did Black Noir take? I take it that he didn't fuck her or something during the time you developed feelings for her.” Butcher questioned him in a humorous way.

Ben growled, “Watch your fucking language, or I'm going to make you gargle my hairy balls in that garrulous mouth of yours,” while Butcher gave him a frightened little look to Hughie, who was about to pee in his trousers since the alarm of the heater was freaking him out with his every word. They wouldn't do well if Butcher continued to annoy Soldier Boy in that way.

“You don't need to know the fucking details; just find her,” Soldier Boy continued, cutting Butcher off before he could say anything else.

This states that she would be imprisoned in America for the rest of her life due to her betrayal and that her body would be studied in the future. It appears they covered up your situation but not hers. Hughie continued to scam every headline about you, saying, “There is no more recent news.”

When Hughie said your body would be examined by the best scientists and doctors, Soldier Boy cursed again. Despite being the strongest superhuman in the world, they had tried to kill him by torturing him severely for years. Even to him, they were all downright painful and disgusting. He didn't want to think about how much pain you endured for decades because of his mistakes. When he saved you from the lab, he would make sure everyone who had harmed you died there, and you could start over.

“Actually, we have a very good friend from Vought. She is also conducting extensive searches by herself. It won't be long until we locate your teammate for you.” Hughie said as he picked up his phone as soon as it began to ring.

Despite the fact that it has been a week and the explosion he created is still being shown on TV every night, Soldier Boy cautiously listened to every phone call in the hopes of learning something about you. However, there was still no single sign. He was sure they were plotting new plans to capture him once again. All of them were fucking cowards.

Butcher offered Soldier Boy a glass of whiskey while Hughie was on the phone with Annie in the kitchen.

“Is he fucking a supe woman?” Soldier Boy asked in disbelief. That guy, Hughie, was full of surprises, though his face was screaming that he was a bottom.

“Never judge the book by its cover,” Butcher smirked.

“So the whole thing was a lie, huh?” As if Ben hadn't repeated the same thing a hundred times, Butcher inquired again. “She must have done something really bad to find herself in a situation like yours.”

Butcher was interested in hearing the story because he wanted to know what was ahead. Dealing with Soldier Boy was dangerous enough, but it would become even more problematic if you shared his anger management issues. For a week, Butcher watched your films and interviews, but he was aware that the media was the least reliable source on earth, particularly when it came to superheroes.

With a menacing glance at Butcher, Soldier Boy merely stated, “She didn't do anything wrong. All she wanted to do was get herself free from the team. It seems that they decided not to respect her decision to leave.”

“What do you think she’ll do when she’s free?” Butcher asked with curiosity and added, “Will she team up with you again despite all?”

For days and hours, Soldier Boy had considered saving you, but he dismissed your feelings upon seeing him again. Thinking about it was not something he wished to do. Even though he was well-known for his confidence, he had been secretly experiencing some insecurity lately, even if he didn't want to acknowledge it. It wasn't that he didn't look nicer; in fact, he was in better form than before, but he was anxious that your opinion might change about him. He was aware that your rescue was more essential than those things, though. Later on, he would be considering the relationship between you.

“I don’t know, but of course she’ll team up with me,” he said trying to sound confident and sure of himself.

Soldier Boy instantly got up from the couch when Butcher's lips parted to ask another question. He focused on the woman Hughie was speaking to on the phone. She was talking about a supe expert physician who had been assigned to study the bodies of the captive supe for scientific purposes for decades, someplace in America.

With great excitement, Hughie hung up the phone and turned to face Butcher and Soldier Boy. He said, “Annie found something. Searches conducted by the government on supe bodies appear to have begun decades ago with Soldier Boy and Y/N. They recruited the world's brightest physicians and scientists to work strictly with Vought.”

Soldier Boy impatiently urged him, saying, “Go on” and tell all the shit already.

“All right. There is a single scientist in charge who watches over all supe captives for his scientific studies. He is required to report to Vought twice in a span of three months, in great detail. It has continued for many years. He is retired last year, but he most likely has knowledge of the location of Y/N.”

Soldier Boy thought, Fuck. At last, he located you. As Hughie spoke about the significant possibility of somebody knowing your whereabouts, his heart raced with excitement.

Butcher said, “Starlight did a really good job there, huh,” with a meaninful grin at Hughie's bashful but proud smile.

After a little period of time spent lost in thought, Soldier Boy eventually grabbed his shield from the corner, straightened his suit, and exclaimed, “Let's fucking give a visit this son of a bitch.”

Soldier Boy ignored Butcher and Hughie's warnings and used a forceful move to smash through the old man's door after spending hours on the road and thinking about you. Soldier Boy cast a glance in the direction of the elderly man and thought, ‘They could go fuck themselves.’ Because of his alleged scientific accomplishments about the supes, he was obviously living in luxury. As Soldier Boy cautiously made his way inside the doctor's huge home, his heart was filled with immense fury. He considered the number of times this old cunt had tormented you in order to send Vought a disgusting report.

The doctor was sitting on his couch, watching the news on TV, when he noticed Soldier Boy standing right in front of him. As the strongest supe and two other men entered his home as if they intended to kill him, he was in disbelief and did not know what to do.

After cleaning his spectacles, the doctor said in a shaky, scared voice, “What's happening? Why are all of you in my house?”

Butcher replied, “This is not very welcoming of you, old man,” and he turned off the TV before sitting down on the closest chair. Hughie swiftly but gently took the phone from the old man's hands when Butcher noticed him reaching for it. Hughie made the doctor sit down again with the same gentleness.

Soldier Boy gripped his shield more firmly, as though he were about to engage in combat with his greatest enemy. He gazed at the elderly man in front of him who was in fear and worry, and he loathed him. Still, he had good reason to be frightened. After all, that would be his last day.

“You live in a nice, big house, huh?” Soldier Boy spoke as he moved slowly in the direction of the doctor. “It appears that you made a good living off of the supes you tortured.”

As Soldier Boy approached with menacing steps and a look like a bloodthirsty murderer, the doctor gulped down nervously. “It's not what you think. I don't know how you escaped from Russia, but you need to stay calm and listen to me,” the elderly guy remarked, raising his hand in protest. “My actions were crucial for both the ongoing wellness of the world and the study of supe.”

"Why the fuck would I listen to your bullshit at all?" Standing by the elderly doctor, Soldier Boy remarked fiercely. “You tortured and used supes for money, you fucking old shit.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows slightly and replied, “Not for money. My work throughout the years has contributed to a better understanding of superhero bodies, which has made it easier to bring your kind to the pinnacle of perfection.”

Before Soldier Boy, Butcher growled, “Perfection? Fuck that. You just made the government's weapons better, served their evil shit for years. Nothing more.”

Soldier Boy battled to contain the heat rising from his chest. Instead of apologizing and beg for his life, the doctor didn't acknowledge that what he had done was wicked and immoral and continued to defend himself which made Soldier Boy even more angrier.

“I saw the explosion in New York from the TV,” the doctor said, adjusting his eyeglasses and looking at Soldier Boy carefully. “You cannot deny that what you experienced in Russia made you stronger and better.”

“I killed people there, you sick old fuck.” Soldier Boy grunted and looked at the doctor with disgust. “Have you fucking lost your humanity by examining the supes for years?”

Without letting the doctor  talk any further, Soldier Boy asked angrily, “Where is Y/N? Don’t tell me you don’t know a shit, because I fucking know you sent some reports about her to Vought.”

Butcher and Hughie worriedly watched Soldier Boy, his hand clenched into a fist, as if he may blow at any moment. Soldier Boy grew angrier the longer the old bitch talked. 

The doctor honestly said, “Yes. I spent decades working on her. I can't dispute that she's a bit of a rebel, or somewhat resistant. But because of the research we were able to conduct on her body, we were able to perfect Comp-V, which undoubtedly contributed to Queen Maeve's current status as the strongest female supe in history. And without a doubt, your body assisted Homelander in becoming the strongest supe ever.”

Hughie muttered, "Holy fucking shit," at witnessing the ascending smoke rising from Soldier Boy's chest.

“Where is she now?” Soldier Boy repeated, trying to maintain composure and control over his body while ignoring what the doctor said. “Where on earth are you keeping her concealed?”

“Calm down. I'll tell you where she is,” stated the doctor. “It appears that there will be no stopping what is about to come about, which will ultimately bring the two of you face to face with the Seven. When you get back to where you belong, you'll both realize how weak and worthless they are; you'll see they are the upgraded versions of yourselves.”

Hughie and Butcher quickly left the house after realizing that Soldier Boy would soon blow up the entire place. The doctor didn’t feel anymore as he realized it was his end. He knew such thing would happen sooner or later. He had already a good life after all.

It's fine, he thought, if it was a challenge. If needed, he could simply kill those seven whores. Soldier Boy was willing to remind them all how fucking stupid it was to fuck with him. If this fucking old dick believed he had made the new supes better than him and the rest of the world agreed with his bullshit, Soldier Boy would show them how wrong they all were.

“Where is she?” Soldier Boy growled again as he was getting closer to blow up.

“She’s in Ohio,” the doctor said, giving the full address just before Soldier Boy exploded the whole place into ashes.

This time, unlike the second explosion he had in New York, he did not pass out. He was relieved and at ease at the same time because it appeared that he was becoming more adept at using his new powers. Luckily, he was also able to locate you at last. He got in the car and gave the address he was given to Butcher, who had been looking into the damage Soldier Boy had done after leaving the burned-out house. Hughie's eyes widened in fear as he crouched where he was seated. 

After several hours, Butcher drove them to a massive, desolate structure that resembled the one in Russia. Soldier Boy was more nervous and angry than ever as he recalled unpleasant experiences, but his need to see you overcame these emotions. His gaze was fixated on the building as they all got out of the car. So that's where you were imprisoned there for years, apart from him and all alone.

Soldier Boy led the way without speaking a word, and when five guys came up to stop him from entering inside, he threw them hard against the wall. It was funny because some of them started shooting at him, like they could hurt him or something. Soldier Boy killed some of the men with his shield, cutting off their heads, and killed some of them with his bare hands, making sure not a single one remained alive.

Butcher followed behind Soldier Boy, providing his assistance with his own firearm while blasting at men who were making desperate attempts to stop them.

As Soldier Boy massacred everyone there and killed those who were wailing in agony, the place fell silent. After all, each and every one of them had a hand in hurting you.

Soldier Boy and Butcher looked everywhere for you. He knew you were in the lab when he walked into a massive, frigid room. Your soothing scent and presence were sensed throughout his entire body despite it was weak. He swiftly ripped off the metal door and killed the last person standing behind it, ripping her heart from her chest in one motion and ignoring her cries.

He found you in a similar-looking metal box to his, with an item covering your face and putting you to endless sleep. Soldier Boy approached your capsule while laying his shield on the ground and with a heavy heart.

“I kept my promise,” Butcher stated, hoping Soldier Boy wouldn’t betray their deal and thankfully, he gave him a promising nod.

“Here's my sleeping beauty,” Soldier Boy murmered, unable to contain his smile as his heart warmed upon seeing your peaceful face, before he violently tore off the metal door to free you.

Next Chapter

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A/N: Thank you for your comments for the previous chapter! They made me really happy. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. -`♡´-

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto  @yvonneeeee @starryperson  @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @certifiedhaters

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series! -`♡´-

[daemon-in-my-head]

Ok I'm possibly boutta screw this one up, but, this is one for the writers and the visual artists. This one's gonna get up close and personal too.

Durge Asks - Creator Edition

What or who inspired your Durges design the most? A particular idea or vibe or perhaps another hottie or baddie?

How does their race play into the design? Was it a conscious choice because of the racial features or did you simply enjoy the playstyle or lore?

How do you prefer to portrait your Durge? Do you enjoy them in writing or their visuals more? If you're a writer or artist, would you/have you commissioned someone else before? Would you like to, in case you couldn't yet do it?

How did Durge come to be? Why them? Was it a vibe you tried to capture or a specific visual you wanted to represent? Did you borrow them from previous works or were they handcrafted for this story you have in mind?

Are they a plot device or the driving force? Do they exist to enhance Gortash or has Gortash developed to become the accessory wife? Do they compliment or foil each other?

Personality or looks, what came to you easier?

Is their personal story represented in their overall design? Do they carry any mental scars or physical alterations from the shit that happened to them?

Contradictory or easy to understand, which one applies more to your Durge? Is their design and personality a conundrum, or did you try to keep it as clear cut as possible?

How much did Bhaal influence their design or personality in the end? Did you research lore to purposefully get the resemblance or do you just go with the flow and what feels right for the story you want to tell?

How much of yourself can be found in your Durge? Do you share the same personality, taste, a specific feature? Are they who you want to be or who you used to be? Are they entirely removed from you as a person?

What's your go to medium for their portrayal? Google Docs, a niche notes app, perhaps one specific for writing, Procreate, Clip Studio, MediBang? Hit me with those recs. Do you sometimes mix em up?

OC Art/Stories or shipping content? What do you enjoy the most? What's ur little hidden passion?

Final and spiciest question. How down bad are you for your durge. Would you hit it even though you'd probably not make it out alive?

Ask prev when u reblog, be nice, this isn't strictly romantic, bla bla bla yk what I usually put here. Basically, have fun, go wild, save a fading fandom or smth (yes I copy pasted this, laziness is the great mother of all bad habits and good mothers should be honoured)

Also yes ik I said I'd get to answering asks and they are queued I just wanted to drop this one first so y'all have smth entertaining to do. Time to return to the shadows until I have ideas for these again, aka another temporary retirement lol.

[bi-bi-buckleys]

Ok listen, I wrote this at like 11 last night in about thirty minutes, and have only proofread it twice. But screw it, here’s my “it was all a dream” fic.

Buck awoke with a gasp, sitting straight up in bed. His bare chest heaving as he focuses on catching his breath, slowing his rapidly beating pulse. The events of the last few days are swimming in his head…but they don’t seem quite as sharp. He sits there for a moment, trying to remember….

“Evan?”

Buck startles a bit, but then immediately relaxes. Oh.

Oh.

“Are you okay?” Tommy stands at the top of the stairs holding two cups of steaming coffee. His hair is mussed from sleep and he has a look of concern on his face.

Buck breathes out a quick relived laugh. “Yeah, yeah I-I’m okay”

Tommy doesn’t look convinced as he approaches the bed and sits gingerly next to Buck handing him a cup of coffee. He waits for Buck to continue.

“I just had the strangest dream…” Buck trails off staring straight ahead, his brow furrowed.

Tommy stares at him, eyebrows raised, and when Buck doesn’t elaborate he asks “are you going to elaborate?”

“Oh! Yeah! Umm… So we go to our anniversary dinner and it’s great, but then this girl asks me to take a picture of her and her friends and she’s clearly flirting but I’m not interested but I take the picture then you and I start talking about how you were engaged to a woman and it turns out that woman was Abby!”

Buck takes a breath and examines the confused frown overtaking Tommy’s face and then dramatically proclaims “MY EX ABBY!”

Tommy huffs in exasperation and gives an eye roll as he says, “Yes I got that, but, wait, hold on- we had the past relationships discussion like three months in. I definitely would have told you I was engaged to your ex. Or like…at all.”

“I know but dream us clearly didn’t have that conversation! Also, I didn’t know what the Kinsey scale is but you did!” Buck doesn’t know why but that last part really stuck with him.

One of Tommy’s eyebrows shoots up toward his hairline as he says, “Pretty sure you’re the one who told me about the Kinsey scale after your big queer research binge.”

Buck points his coffee at Tommy, a slightly wild look in his eyes, “Exactly, but apparently dream me didn’t have that research binge! AND!” At this, Buck narrows his eyes accusingly and Tommy prepares himself to have the ‘you can’t be mad at real me for what dream me said‘ argument.

Buck continues, “You called me a himbo.”

Tommy barks a disbelieving laugh as he says, “No I didn’t! Not even dream me could think of you as a himbo.”

Buck rolls his eyes and amends, “Well ok, you said Abby moved on with some himbo, but you didn’t know it was me.”

Tommy nods, somehow following along. “Right, dream us didn’t have the past exes convo. Okay….interesting. Anyway, I’m assuming you spiraled about this whole engaged to Abby thing.”

Buck glared at him. “Wow, rude.” After a beat Buck said “But, I mean, yeah, okay, I did. And I went to talk to Maddie about it and she joked about how many guys Abby turned gay…”

Tommy laughed again, “Wooooah, ok dream Maddie with the homophobia! I hope dream you corrected her!”

“Well I told her you were already gay but I didn’t correct her and tell her I was bi, which is weird.”

“Yeah, agreed. I mean, you took the online quiz and everything.” Tommy quips.

Buck tries to shoot him a dirty look, but he’s clearly fighting back a smile, “Yes, yes I did. Then Josh jumps in with this awesome speech about how coming out in a pre Glee world was different than coming out in a post Glee world and I couldn’t judge those who came before me…”

Tommy interrupts at this point, sensing a pattern. “Again, didn’t you tell me about an article you read about the Glee thing? Are you just giving everyone your research binges in your dreams?”

But shakes his head in exasperation at his dream self and says “Apparently. Anyway, dream Josh helped me to realize that….”

Tommy notices the way that Buck trails off. “That…?”

There’s a slight blush on Bucks face as he continues. “Well… I mean, you know, that I really care about you and I care about your happiness as much as my own and…and I can see a future with you.”

Buck chances a look at Tommy who is smiling at him with so much fondness it makes his heart hurt.

Tommy finally responds with, “Sap.”

Buck can’t help but laugh at that, “Shut up!”

He shoves playfully at his boyfriend’s arm, mindful of the hot coffees they’re both holding. He sobers up when he remembers the next part of his dream. Tommy notices this change in Bucks demeanor and his face becomes serious as he patiently waits for Buck to continue.

Buck takes a steadying breath and says “Then you came over and I asked you to move in with me and you said no because you ‘know how this ends’ and I was gonna break your heart because I was just excited about the newness of being with a guy or whatever and ‘your first isn’t your last’ and then….you broke up with me.”

Tommy’s eyebrows are crinkled again as he processes this.

He shakes his head as if to clear it, “….hang on none of that makes sense. First of all, glad to know dream me is a psychic. Second of all, i wouldn’t call a six month long relationship new. Third of all, thats kinda messed up to say your first queer relationship can’t be your last. Hell, some people have their first ever relationship be their last! It’s not that unusual. Fourth of all, why would I break my own heart and yours over something that might not happen? Fifth of all…”

Buck’s smiling in amusement now, “I don’t think anyone has ever gotten past second of all…”

Tommy barely stops as he says, “Hush - fifth of all! I wouldn’t move in with you simply because where the hell would I put my car lift and Muay Thai ring? Your ‘dinning room’?” He puts air quotes around dinning room, nearly spilling his coffee in the process.

Buck is still smiling as he teases, “Are you done? There’s no sixth of all?”

Tommy sighs and sits for a moment before saying, “Well I’m sure if you gave me a moment I could think of one…”

Buck snorts a quick laugh and mutters “Uh huh” before taking a sip of his coffee.

Tommy’s shaking his head again, this time more in disbelief. “Dream me wasn’t thinking right. Like I’d break up with the guy I love because I’m worried he might one day break up with me.”

Buck freezes. He looks over at Tommy and asks, “….you love me?”

Tommy also freezes, his coffee mug stilled at his lips. His voice goes up an octave when he responds, “…..what?”

There’s a slight tinge of awe in Bucks voice when he says, “You said ‘the guy I love’. Do you love me?”

Tommy looks over at Buck and there’s this hopeful and almost timid look on his face. He remembers the worry he felt when he came up the stairs and saw Buck sitting up in bed, gasping as if recovering from a nightmare. Then he realizes something: Buck may have said it was a strange dream but in truth, it was a nightmare. The idea that Tommy might walk away from him. Might give up on him. Might hurt him. Just like his past relationships did. Tommy can’t have him thinking that for a second longer.

He looks Buck straight in the eye, hoping the sincerity of what he says next comes through loud and clear: “Of course I love you, Evan. More than anything.”

Buck’s smile grows impossibly brighter, his blue eyes shining as he says, “I love you, too.”

Tommy has to kiss him about it. He lifts his left hand up to cradle Buck’s head and leans in, Buck meeting him half way. Buck lifts his right hand to gently rest on Tommy’s bicep, then moves it to his waist. The kiss is gentle, warm, loving.

When they break, they lean their foreheads together and sigh contentedly.

Tommy breaks the comfortable silence first “So…dream you sees a future with me? What about real you?”

Buck huffs a laugh and says, “Yeah, that part is true, definitely.”

Tommy knows his whole face is crinkling as he says, “Okay. Good. Me too.”

Buck smiles dopily back, “Good.”

Tommy takes a deep breath as he gathers the courage to ask his next question. It helps that their foreheads are still resting together and he can’t actually see Bucks face when he says, “So. Evan. How about you move in with me?”

Buck pulls back quickly, and for a moment Tommy panics, but he relaxes when he sees the look of wonder on Buck’s face “Seriously?”

Tommy tries to control the smile on his face as he dryly says, “No I’m making a really cruel joke,” Then rolls his eyes and laughs, “Yes seriously! I have plenty of space, the 118 isn’t much further from my place than it is from here, and well, I like the idea of having you around all the time.”

“Why be apart when we can be together?” Buck asks, still smiling.

Tommy strokes his left hand through Bucks hair, “Exactly! So? What do you say? Will you move in with me?”

Buck practically jumps on Tommy, coffee mugs be damned, and laughs“Yes. Yes! Tommy, absolutely!”

The mugs get moved safely to one of the nightstands as they spend their morning celebrating this new milestone. It’s a pretty amazing start to their sixth month anniversary.

[wutheringmights]

Anyone ask for the commentary yet for the latest chapter >:3 *dies*

You’d be the first!

So this chapter is cursed. Let’s talk about that first. 

You probably noticed that my writing output has been in the gutter this year. I have not written half as much as I should have. There are two main reasons why. The first is that I finally decided to get off my ass and have a more enriching personal life. This means a lot more of my evenings and weekends have been spent exploring other hobbies or taking weekend trips. I don’t regret any of those, and they have really improved my life overall (but I do write more when I am a sad little shut-in).

The second, more pressing reason was that there was a very important wedding I was the maid of honor for. That means I have spent a lot of my free time this year planning a bachelorette, a bridal shower, and helping with general wedding prep. I honestly was not nearly as busy as an expert maid of honor would have been, but all of this took up so much of my brain space that I was having trouble being creative. Multiple times, I would go to a coffee shop with plans to write, only to spend the entire time stressing about buying a new dress or researching hotels. 

I did not realize how stressed I was about this whole thing until literally this week. The wedding is over now, and I am already biting huge chunks into the upcoming chapter. I just have so much more brain space to write. I feel free. 

All that’s to say that this chapter was primarily written the month leading up to the wedding, and my head was Not There. I was struggling to figure the chapter out, and that struggle is reflected in the quality of the prose. For that, I apologize, as inevitable as it was. 

I won’t make any major revision to this chapter, but I have plans to redo my proof-reading. There is an egregious number of typos in this chapter, more than I consider acceptable for a one person team of me. 

(That being said, my typos have gotten worse this past year; ever since AI was integrated into Grammarly and Google Docs, both have been godawful for helping me fix errors. I appreciate how lenient you all have been with my most blatant mistakes.) 

Now that all of that is established, let’s talk about this chapter.

This introduction to Proxi is really, really bad. I am frankly a little embarrassed that I went ahead and published it. While I had a vision for the first few scenes of Link trying to help Proxi and Jakucho’s aid afterwards, I didn’t realize until the day of writing that I actually had 0 plans for how Warriors and Proxi’s first conversation would go. 

I am not even joking. I have a bunch of plans for their interactions together afterwards (which will appear next chapter). But their first conversation once Proxi started to get better? None. 

So what little they talked together here feels like a waste of space. What’s worse, I don’t even know what I would change the dialogue to in order to fix it. My brain is blank. I don’t know.  It’ll probably hit me in a few weeks. This is the trouble with publishing what is essentially the first draft of a story. If my initial ideas are solid, it’s great. But when my brain farts, I’m screwed.

That being said, my favorite part of the past section is that first half where Link frets over how to help Proxi, as well as Jakucho’s speech about the fairies disappearing. 

I have been trying to subtly establish this era of Hyrule as being one that is shocking devoid of magic; having Jakucho mourn the loss of fairies and what omen that could mean feels like I am ruining things. Nonetheless, I just really like the idea of Jakucho having this small moment of wonder over seeing a fairy, as well as her verbalizing these fears that darker times are ahead. 

I think I just enjoy reading about older people having the same anxieties about the world as younger people. It’s more comforting to me than an all-knowing mentor. 

So this chapter has a lot of random names splattered all over the place. Me being me, I stole some of the names from other media and such I enjoy. I’ll point out any fun connections as I find them. 

So for Proxi’s list of names for Link, there’s two of note. The first is Grimshaw, which is the name of the male lead from Lightlark. Despite how much I talk about Fourth Wing on this blog, Lightlark is the bad book I am truly passionate about. 

The second is Wen-li, which is for Yang Wen-li from Legend of the Galactic Heroes. He’s the character of all time for me, and I will go insane if I think about him for too long.

This Proxi section was supposed to go on a little longer, but by the time it came to write it, I was 100% over this chapter. Luckily, next chapter will be a fresh slate and I can finally deliver on all my promises about Proxi’s return. 

I cannot emphasize enough how frustrating it is to know that I fucked up an important character’s return. It’s... sigh. C’est la vie. Whatever. 

Onto the present day:

So I have a particular problem with the present day section. The last chapter, this chapter, and the one I am writing now are all the same plot point in my outline. I severely underestimated how long the lead up to a Very Important Event was going to be. No doubt, I have probably made similar mistakes before. But I am trying to finish this story, so any time I have to draw out the pacing, I die a little on the inside.

I think I initially planned to just skim over how Warriors got to the castle, but then I realized that this was the politics stuff that is the supposed bread and butter of the story. But the reason why I wanted to skim over everything was (as Legend pointed out) fucking networking.

What’s worse, I got to this chapter and realized that, realistically, Warriors should have to spend at least a few months building up a cult of personality. This should be a (purposeful) multi-chapter arc. I don’t want to do that, so I tried to really emphasize how much Warriors was using his reputation as the hero and legends surrounding it to his advantage. Does it still feel unrealistic? Yeah, but we’re just going to have to cope with it. 

Sevas is named for the male lead in Ava Reid’s Juniper & Thorn, which was sitting on my desk when I realized the priest needed a name. 

Colonel Remarque is named for Erich Remarque, author of All Quiet On the Western Front. I think I had made a post name-dropping him around the time I got to this character.

Matthew Thorn... again, Thorn is for Reid’s book. Matthew was just the most bland name I could think of. 

Vlad Dubarry... so I was watching both Castlevania and Rose of Versailles and took the first and surname from both respectively. 

Between the conversation with the priest, the provost office, and Remarque, I was trying to give out a few more details every time to paint a clear picture without boring the reader by reiterating information over and over again. Unfortunately, I still managed to write three pretty boring scenes. 

That being said, I think the friction Remarque offered was interesting to write, even if I had to resist pointing out every single plot hole during it. 

So everything from the castle to Spirit being poisoned took me the longest to write. I knew it was boring, but I could not figure out a way to make it more exciting without omitting the networking stuff entirely. I didn’t really hit a stride with this chapter until I got to Spirit being poisoned. 

The entire time Spirit was being poisoned, I was rubbing my hands together maniacally. I have been searching for a good moment to have a true poisoning in this story and I finally got it. 

Also, I think if this chapter was of higher quality, someone out there would have realized that, for purely medical reasons, Hyrule had to technically give Spirit and smooch on the lips. There should be at least two very silly memes about this. But, alas. The quality.

You can tell I ran into the realization that, realistically, the Royal Guard’s structure would be more complex than I have alluded to previously. Very importantly, you can tell I realized that I should have mentioned the King’s Guard sooner if they were really going to be this powerful subsection of the Royal Guard.

I actually like how the idea that the King’s Guard is only super powerful in matters relating to the king, aka: Castle Town, and is pretty insignificant otherwise. The bureaucratic bullshit that must cause feels very real. But you can tell that I have no idea what rank that would make Endicott. I have been bending over backwards to not state that man’s ranking. 

That being said, his absence from Warriors’s social circle until now is kinda important. Put a pin in that. It will come back.

Also, Endicott is a name I stole from Over the Garden Wall. I picked it because it sounds like the name of someone important. I picked Roald at randomed.

I am really happy that a lot of you have been enjoying the growing distrust the Chain has for Spirit. Insert rant about how victims have to remain palatable in order to be emphasized with, and how tragic it is that the only person who seems to understand that is the person who traumatized him in the first place. 

I feel like I have been fumbling Time’s character a bit, and his conversation at the floor of Spirit’s bed is me finally getting back on track with him. I enjoyed writing that so much, from him trying to fold the scarf to him being upset that no one has learned their lesson yet, all while still not learning a lesson himself. 

There was going to be a comment somewhere that Spirit is in such bad shape in part because his lungs are weak from all that smoking he does, but I honestly don’t know if anyone but Spirit would make that connection. 

I also need to put Legend and Midna together more. They can be so snarky, and I want them to keep a running commentary of Warriors and Spirit’s bullshit like they are two sports announcers watching a football game.

I first imagined Spirit and Warriors’s conversation taking place on the parapet, and came to the same realization about the ladders that Spirit had. I’m glad I put them by the moat, though. The bit about the smell is probably my favorite bit of prose in the chapter. 

I also really like this conversation between Spirit and Warriors. It’s not as insanity inducing as their past bullshit has been, but it hits a few notes. I like Warriors showing off how much he understands Spirit’s abilities (via the jacket), as well as Spirit’s utter disbelief that Warriors is capable of caring for anyone but himself. 

I was also trying really hard to put more of their bullshit into subtext. I have a bad habit of having characters just state what they are feeling out loud, so I am trying to write more coded dialogue. It’s never just about a toaster, etc. 

Warriors was also having such a night of self-discovery. First he had a little moment to freak out about how much his sincere attempts to help sound like manipulation. Then he realized that he would probably never be fully exonerated from his past. Big night for him.

Being unable to fully fix your past is part of the reason why I buffer against the idea of Warriors having a redemption arc. That implies a certain amount of undoing that is just not possible. I don’t know if I am putting that well. However, I am concerned that I am letting my Catholic upbringing color my perspective.

That being said, if Catholicism was a thing in Hyrule, Warriors would be that and be plagued by Catholic Guilt

He’s Catholic coded.

Irish Catholic, to be specific. There’s a difference. 

Anyway, Four. When Four showed up, I was going to have this bit of dialogue where Spirit would allude to knowing about Vio (and therefore, Four) having a relationship with Shadow. It would have been nestled in a larger, coded bit of dialogue where Four would obliquely imply that he was starting to suspect what the Hot Mess is. I cut it because A) Spirit is so socially inept that he cannot do subtly like that, and B) Spirit’s spirit senses would not give him the ability to know about Shadow. 

I also did not want to commit to Four figuring it out first, if at all. 

I have so many ideas about what Warriors the Symbol means to the people of Castle Town that I will hopefully be able to elaborate on in this upcoming chapter.

Realistically, Hyrule Castle should probably be more like a fortress. But again, I have been watching The Rose of Versailles, and I just really liked the idea of the castle being this symbol of opulence during a time of poor economics. The people are struggling but the nobles are thriving, babes. 

Also, Endicott is so much fun to write. He’s like the true antagonistic version of Lincoln. That man was enjoying making Warriors squirm, and I was having a blast writing it. The sexual favors line? I was utterly delighted. 

Realistically, Endicott probably could have been replaced with Whitestone. However, Whitestone is still on the front and I don’t regret putting him there to be Wind’s superior during his short stint as a soldier. (Even if I still think I could have cut out Whitestone in favor of giving Impa more to do.)

I also feel bad for killing Meemaw off so suddenly, but I was enchanted by the idea of her name having to be crossed off because the death was that  recent. 

I also was going to have Endicott spare Warriors for unknown reasons, with the reveal that Ganondorf had been bribing him coming later in the story, However, I was so worried about this seeming too-easy for Warriors that I decided to reveal that detail early. 

Okay, King of Hyrule stuff.

I’m trying to play at this idea of Zelda’s reputation not matching her actual role. Earlier in the story, Warriors describes her as a socialite with no political sense, and Zelda derisively thinks that of herself as well. Then that bit about her being the face of the kingdom is supposed to contradict that perception. She can’t just be a socialite if she had been the mouthpiece of the king since she was a child. 

There’s supposed to be multiple mistakes going on here: Warriors assuming the worst of Zelda, a sexist perception of Zelda by society as a whole, and Zelda feeling worthless because she knows she’s just a symbol. Not sure if I conveyed any of that well. 

Reuenthal’s dementia was caused in part by a stroke, but he also has a condition called prosopometamorphopsia, which is a form of face blindness where faces become distorted the longer you look at them. 

Fun fact is that I generally knew that there was some kind of condition that had made Reuenthal isolate from other people, but I did not pick prosopometamorphopsia until I read this article from the New Yorker. I won’t go as far as to say that I wrote an accurate version of the disorder; I definitely played up the emotional distress it causes for dramatic effect. That is probably problematic, so please do not trust this story as a definitive source on it. 

This also went unsaid in the story, but I imagine that because every daughter in the royal family is named Zelda, they probably go more by their middle names. I almost named dropped one of her sisters as Zelda Artemis, just to be mean.

The last line “A week later, everything went to hell” is, admittedly, very silly. I had a whole section describing what that meant written, but it seriously sucked. I am in the process of rewriting it now, and it’s already so much better. Plus, now that I have another chapter to hit these plot points, I can explore a more daring version of my original idea. Very excited for it. 

That being said, I would 100% cut off that last line and probably improve the chapter by 3%.

And that’s the chapter! Again, I am so sorry that it was such substandard quality. I promise that the next chapter will be better. 

In other news, can I get your opinion on something. Ever since polls came out, I have wanted to do a little census poll on how many people know about CTB, read it, or choose to read it. Just to gage how big the actual audience is. 

On one hand, I think it would be interesting. On the other, it’s a practice in vanity that is very antithetical to how hard I try to be nonchalant about everything. I don’t know. Let me know what you think. 

[raaorqtpbpdy]

In Memory of Mom

Danny meets a strange, Spanish-speaking ghost wandering around Casper High. His Spanish isn't great, but he's pretty sure she's looking for her daughter.

For the Prompt: Danny encounters a strange spanish-only speaking ghost looking for Paulina Sanchez. Being a first year Spanish student, he only recognizes the words "mi hija" and hesitantly leads her to Paulina. It's Día de los Muertos, but because Paulina has been trying to fit in at school, and her papa remarried and doesn't want to make his new wife uncomfortable, they've fallen out of the habit of setting up the ofrenda and marigolds, leaving their mom/wife unable to find her way home. Paulina can't see or hear her, but Phantom can [From @dreamwraith]

Disclaimer: I am white, and I do not speak Spanish. It is with deepest regret that I must admit to using Google translate for the Spanish dialogue in this fic. If you notice any errors in the Spanish, or regarding Día de Muertos (which there might very well be, though I did do my research), please feel free to correct me. I can only do my best, and always appreciate the opportunity to do better.

Read also on AO3

[Warnings for past character death, and mentions of culture death]

Danny typically liked to have more than one day to recover after fighting Fright Knight every Halloween. Not to mention the numerous other ghosts who always had to come out on that stupid holiday to cause as much trouble as possible during the period of time when the barrier between the human world and the Ghost Zone was at it's thinnest.

Of course, Danny never got more than one day, but he would have liked to.

Luckily the ghost that showed during lunch period on November second didn't seem to be causing any trouble. In fact, it didn't seem like she was powerful enough to cause trouble, even if she wanted to. No one besides Danny even seemed to notice her, which at least meant she wouldn't be able to cause any serious damage, even if she tried.

She was speaking Spanish as she walked through the halls of Casper High, and turning her head this way and that as if she was looking for something, or someone.

"¿La has visto? ¿Mi hija? ¿Dónde está mi hija? ¿La has visto?" she called out.

Now, Danny was only a first year Spanish student, and furthermore... he missed a lot of classes, so he wasn't sure exactly what she was saying, but he did recognize the words 'mi hija', 'my daughter'. The last time he'd been to Spanish class, Señora Gutierrez had been teaching family terms. Madre, padre, hermana, hermano, hija, hijo, tío, abuela, that kind of thing.

Subtly, he followed her until she walked into a hallway where there weren't any people, and then, with no one to look at him like he was crazy for talking to the air, he spoke to her.

"Excuse me, are you looking for your daughter?" Danny asked.

"¡sí mi hija!" the woman replied excitedly. "¿La conoces? ¿La has visto?"

Danny knew 'sí', that was 'yes', the most basic of basic Spanish. 'sí' and... and... okay, so Danny couldn't remember what 'no' was in Spanish, but he remembered 'sí'. Ancients, he was really gonna have to start showing up to that class more if he wanted to get the foreign language credits he needed to graduate.

"Uh... tu hija," Danny said, completely confident that he was already screwing up the grammar, "¿que es la nombre?"

"No es muy fluido en español, ¿verdad?" The ghost laughed. "Su nombre es Paulina."

"Paulina?" Danny didn't understand any of the rest of what she said, so he focused on the last bit. "Paulina Sanchez?"

"¡Sí!" she confirmed, enthusiastically. "Mi hija. Paulina Sánchez. ¿Tu la conoce?"

Danny nodded, although he'd kinda fallen off the sentence after 'sí'. "Why are you looking for her?"

"Es el Dia de Muertos," she said. "Quiero verla, pero no encuentro la ofrenda."

Danny had no idea to respond to that. The only word he recognized from all of that was 'la', but he couldn't glean a whole sentence from a single 'the', so he just looked at her with an expression that was half a forced, awkward smile and half a grimace.

"Ummmm..."

Was it safe to lead an unknown ghost to an unsuspecting human? Objectively no. Most especially not when the unsuspecting human was the girl Danny had a massive crush on. But... on the other hand, this particular ghost seemed pretty harmless, and she said she was Paulina's mother. So... maybe it was okay?

"How about I'll take you to her," Danny suggested.

The ghost that claimed to be Paulina's mother nodded excitedly and said something else in Spanish that Danny had no hope of translating. 

Danny led her to the outdoor table where the A-listers always sat, but Paulina wasn't there. After a little bit of prowling the quad, he found her, at an out of the way table no one ever sat at because the the school custodian always ignored it and it was disgusting. 

Paulina had laid her jacket over the bench to sit on, and unfolded a few paper napkins over the surface of the table. She had a handful of sugar cubes, and was poking one with a toothpick for some reason. She hadn't noticed him yet.

As much as he would have liked to go over to her as Danny Fenton and be the hero who let her talk to her mom again, he figured it would probably be suspicious if people knew he could see ghosts others couldn't. A but reluctantly, he looked around to make sure no one could see and transformed into Danny Phantom. The ghost, Paulina's mom, applauded him, like he'd just done a magic trick. To her, it might have seemed that way.

"Thanks," he said, a little sarcastically, and floated over to talk to Paulina.

"Excuse me, Paulina Sanchez?" Danny asked, as if he wasn't sure whether he knew her name or not. "There's a ghost here who wants to speak to you."

Paulina looked up and looked around, then turned back to Danny and raised a perfect eyebrow. She put down the sugar cube she was poking at, and Danny noticed that on her other side, there were two other sugar cubes sculpted into the shape of a skull.

"You mean you?" she asked. "Look, normally, I'd be thrilled, but today isn't really—"

"Oh, no, not me," Danny said. "She has long hair, wearing a nice knee-length dress.... It's kinda hard to describe ghosts in a way that makes them recognizable to people who knew them in life, 'cause colors tend to be different between life-and-death but uh... you and her have the same nose, actually. She says your her daughter? I don't speak Spanish, but I managed to figure out that much."

When he stopped talking, Pauling gave him a flat look.

"Are you messing with me?"

"No," Danny insisted. "She's not a very powerful ghost, so she can't stay in the visible range, but she's here. She wants to talk to you."

"Mamá?" Paulina asked hesitantly. "¿Estás aquí?"

"Sí, hija mía, estoy aquí," Mrs. Sanchez replied. "Estoy muy feliz de verte de nuevo."

Paulina didn't respond for a long moment, apparently waiting. Then, finally, she said, "I don't hear anything."

"I was worried you might say that," Danny said. "I'm gonna have to speak Spanish if you guys want to talk to each other, aren't I?" he sighed deeply. "Alright fine. Apologies in advance because I am gonna absolutely butcher the pronunciations."

"Hija," Mrs. Sanchez said, "volví a verte, pero no había camino para mí. ¿Por qué?"

Danny repeated the words to the best of his ability.

Paulina took a moment to parse them out, with a puzzled expression before finally saying, "Papá se volvió a casar. Su nueva esposa es gringa, así que no le hicimos un ofrenda en casa para que no se sintiera incómoda."

Danny didn't know what any of that meant, obviously, and was grateful he only had to repeat after Paulina's mom, because Paulina herself spoke Spanish very quickly and there was absolutely no way he wouldn't trip over his tongue mimicking her. 

"Pero estoy aquí, debe haber una ofrenda."

Danny mimicked her again.

Paulina looked a little embarrassed. "Sí... yo... hice uno en mi casillero para ti. No quería que no pudieras cruzar."

Her mother gasped. Danny really wished he knew what was going on.

"¿Me mostrarás?"

Paulina's expression lit up when Danny repeated that, and she stood, gathering up her jacket and her sugar cubes.

"Vamos," she said. "I mean, follow me."

She led the way through the empty halls and Danny and her mom followed.

"What were you guys talking about?" Danny asked, then immediately realized what he was asking and quickly backtracked. "I mean, never mind, it's probably personal. I was just curious. You don't have to answer that."

"No, it's okay," Paulina said. "See, my mom passed when I was seven, and every year, me and my dad set up an ofrenda for Day of the Dead with her picture so she could visit us. We moved here from Mexico when I was ten, but we kept up the tradition. 

"Last winter, though, Dad married my step-mom, and she's white, and doesn't know anything about Mexican traditions or holidays. Dad doesn't want to make her uncomfortable, so ever since they got married, we stopped celebrating most of what we used to back in Mexico, so we didn't put up an ofrenda this year, and Mom was asking why she couldn't find it, so I explained."

"Oh... that's... kinda sad," Danny said. "You just had to give up all your culture because your dad remarried?"

Paulina shrugged. "We had to give up a lot of it already, when we moved to America anyway," she said, as if that made it less sad and not more. "At least Sandra's nice, she's just... a little out of her depth sometimes."

"So... where are you taking us?"

Finally, she stopped in front of her locker and turned the dial with her combination.

"I didn't want mom to not be able to visit me, so... I sort of made my own ofrenda in my locker," Paulina explained sheepishly.

The door swung open to reveal the inside. There was a small magnetic shelf stuck on the back of the locker. On it, there was a small electric candle, some kind of orange flower, a pair of black lace gloves, and a heart-shaped locket. The locket was open and propped up so the picture inside was visible. It was the ghost Danny was trying to help.

Paulina reached in an put a few of the sculpted sugar cubes on the shelf next to the locket. The tiny sugar skulls were perfectly to scale with the tiny picture, but absolutely dwarfed by the flower.

The ghost put her hands to her heart and looked absolutely touched by the tiny display.

"Those were her favorite gloves," Paulina explained. "She always wore them when Dad took her dancing."

"What's the flower?" Danny asked.

"It's a marigold," she replied. "Cempasúchil, in Spanish. They're a traditional decoration for the ofrenda. You're also supposed to leave a trail of their petals from the grave to the ofrenda, but... Mom's grave is in Mexico, and the ofrenda is in my locker so...." 

"Ay, esto es hermoso," the ghost said. "Gracias. Amo mucho esto. Te quiero mi hija."

Danny had been to distracted to properly listen, so he wasn't sure how to repeat her words.

"Uh... she says she likes it."

The ghost gave him a look and a light slap that passed right through him.

"A lot, she likes it a lot."

"¡Y te amo!" she added insistently.

"Y te amo, she says," Danny repeated.

"Thank you, Phantom," Paulina said. She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "This means a lot to me."

Danny knew his cheeks were turning bright green, and he cleared his throat awkwardly to make sure his voice wouldn't crack.

"Uh, yeah, no problem," he said. "Don't mention it."

It was then that the bell rang signalling the end of lunch, and Paulina grabbed a couple of books from her locker and headed to class. Her mom followed, even though Paulina couldn't see her.

Danny had to get to class, too. He had Spanish class after lunch, and Ancients knew he didn't need to be missing any more of those.

In class, Señora Gutierrez talked about Dia de los Muertos, and for once, Danny actually sort of knew what she was talking about, thanks to Paulina. Maybe he should ask her to tutor him.

[helenadurazzo]

Chapter One: An Unusual Mode of Transportation

Welcome to the first part of my new series The Discoveries of Phineas Hearst which is basically a rewrite of Hogwarts Legacy. Before we begin please note that there are significant changes such as Phineas starting as a first year and the goblins playing less of a role to name a few. In this first chapter, Phineas finds himself in a bit of a predicament, yet his Professor swoops in with a solution to his troubles

Phineas ran through the train station past the muggles who strolled on their merry little ways as oblivious as ever. He could not believe he was running so late and that his brother did not bother to check on him via owl until it was too late. Phineas supposed he did always have a habit of delving into his researches without climbing out of them and reentering real life. He supposed he could not blame his brother, who had spent the last week with the Prewetts as Leander wanted him to provide some tips on some advanced spells to impress Professor Hecat. What a way to start his time as a prefect! What an example he was making to the new comers, surely he would hear an earful about this from his head of house and Professor Black, but Phineas tried to push those worries down deep within him.

He had been the screw up of the family for as long as he remembered, and his older brother Cyrus teased him relentlessly for it, especially when it took him so long to master Lumos in his first year. His siblings took to magic very early on but Phineas was late, almost to the point where whispers of if he was a squib started popping up amongst the community but they were soon turned to be false. Now he was finally paving a way forward to which his parents approved of, perhaps he could forge a career as successful as his eldest brother in wizarding law, Cyrus himself working endlessly and tirelessly to officially become an auror, even his sister Gladys who had just graduated a few months ago was finding success in the field of investigation.

Phineas knew everything was going down the drain as he crossed through the barrier just as the train departed the station. He cursed mentally, once that train left the ways to get to the school reduced immensely. Julius would certainly tell him that his prefect badge would be taken and sent to a more diligent student. In fact, sometimes Phineas wondered why someone like Ominis was not made a prefect, certainly his father’s connection to the headmaster could have made it quite a simple task. And Ominis had always been one to stay out of trouble and misfortune unlike himself and Sebastian who’s middle name was trouble.

“Ah there you are Mister Hearst.” A familiar voice spoke from behind him, his Professor of Magical Theory, Eleazar Fig, he confirmed as the voice’s owner once he turned around.

“Professor Fig!” Phineas exclaimed as he hurried over to him, “What in Merlin’s name are you doing here? Shouldn’t you already be at Hogwarts by now?”

“And shouldn’t have you boarded the Hogwarts express before it departed.” Professor Fig looked at him cleverly.

“I guess you got me there.” Phineas chuckled awkwardly. “But in all seriousness why are you here? I sense you wanted to find me?”

“Precisely.” Professor Fig nodded, “I wanted to personally escort you to Hogwarts myself. You see, I am meeting up with an old friend of mine and my wife’s in London in half an hour’s time. I wanted you to accompany me. You see, he wanted to share an item he found with me that he could not unlock. I sense it might be locked by ancient magic and since you have a knack for uncovering hidden runes, perhaps these abilities could be used for other tasks, such as deciphering a lock.”

“I shall do my best sir.” Phineas nodded as he spoke with officially.

“I am glad to hear it.” Professor Fig smiled warmly, “Now follow me, the alleyway is not too far from here.”

~~

“It appears we are almost ready to depart.” Professor Fig confirmed after checking with the carriage and what Phineas assumed were theastrals that would be pulling it, a remarkable wonder of the wizarding world. “Now all we need is-“

Suddenly the sounds of Apparation made Phineas glanced to the left as a man who appeared to be slightly younger than his Professor appeared in clothing one would expect from an employee of the Ministry of Magic. He looked around his surroundings curiously before turning around, his face more confident upon seeing Professor Fig as he walked towards them.

“Eleazar! Good to see you!” Mister Orsic exclaimed cheerfully.

“George.” Professor Fig smiled as he shook his hand, “Glad my cryptic description of the meeting place did not stop you from finding us.”

“Do not worry.” Mister Orsic brushed off and chuckled, “I have apparated to much more vaguely described places than this. Though I must confess I did miscalculate on my first try, gave some theatre goers at West End quite a fright.”

“It’s been much too long.” Professor Fig smiled. “When I received your owl I must say I-“

“Best to continue this discussion in private.” Mister Orsic abruptly interrupted him. “We should not be speaking here.”

“Certainly.” Professor Fig accepted, “We shall speak on route to Hogwarts. We have a start of term feast to get to after all, and I would like to show you some new things I collected in my office as well that could help with this mystery.”

“Wonderful idea!” Mister Orsic cheerfully agreed, “As long as your young charge here does not mind me tagging along. It would be good to see that old pile of rocks, I have not been to the castle in ages.”

“Not at all Sir.” Phineas spoke politely.

“Now, after you.” Professor Fig graciously let Phineas himself and Mister Orsic board the carriage before getting in himself and soon enough they were off. Phineas had flown before on a broom but surprisingly rarely in carriages, so the sight of how the ground and people became smaller and smaller was quite fascinating.

“Glad I caught you before you left for Scotland.” Mister Orsic was the first to speak following the takeoff, “I apologize for it being so last minute.”

“Do not worry yourself about that.” Professor Fig assured him.

“Now, I do not believe you have introduced me to your traveling companion Eleazar.” Mister Orsic looked curiously at Phineas.

“I am Phineas Hearst sir. A fifth year student at Hogwarts.” Phineas politely introduced himself to the man.

“Hearst.” Mr Orsic repeated as he pondered. “Your family mostly has found success in the auror office if I recall correctly, is Phoebus Hearst your father?”

“He’s my uncle.” Phineas confirmed, “and currently mentoring my brother as he becomes an auror. My father works in the Portkey office.”

“Splendid!” Mister Orsic remarked, “Takes talented wizards and witches to craft those.”

“I have taken Phineas under my wing for the past few years.” Professor Fig elaborated, “He possesses an extraordinary ability to see magic that is hidden from most eyes, I have never seen anything quite like it. I figured he could assist in figuring out how to open that item you found that Miriam sent.”

“Nor have I heard of such an ability.” Mister Orsic breathed with wonder. “Besides the point.” He turned to Phineas, “I am sure by now you see that you could not have asked for a better mentor. He is one of the most gifted and intuitive wizards out there.”

“Mister Orsic is rather prone to flattery.” Professor Fig gave a rather humble response “and it certainly one of the reasons he has risen so high up at the Ministry.”

“Well, let’s get back to the matters at hand.” Mister Orsic took to a more serious tone as he turned back to the Professor, “Miriam wrote to me before she died, alerting me about a recently formed group of dark wizards and witches who have been causing trouble in numerous hamlets in Scotland with suspicions they might expand and wondered what the Ministry knew about their activities. Before I could respond I revived this.” He continued, pulling out a cylinder container with cone shapes on both ends and a peculiar symbol on the one part of it that seemed to have a slight blue hue to it, almost glowing. “It was the last thing she sent me, Eleazar. It came to me by her owl but with no correspondence, I can only assume.”

“That she had to get rid of it quickly to keep it safe.” Professor Fig finished as he took the container into his own hands as he observed it intently.

“As I told you.” Mister Orsic reminded him, “I cannot open it no matter what I try, every unlocking charm is useless. It is protected by powerful magic.”

“Looks to be made of goblin metal.” Professor Fig observed, “Perhaps someone at Gringotts could know more about it, and that symbol-“

“It’s glowing.” Phineas commented, observing the blue glow more closely as Professor Fig held the container.

“Glowing?” Professor Fig raised an eyebrow as he rotated the container, “I do not see a glow? Is it the symbol or the entire container.”

“Just the symbol.” Phineas specified as Professor Fig let him hold the container to study for himself, the metal was strangely cold to the touch. Yet once the container was in his hands, the symbol highlighted the ends in the same blue glow and unlocked itself on its own, revealing some sort of key.

“Merlin’s Beard!” Mister Orsic exclaimed as Professor Fig took the container back to look at the key. “How did you-“

Yet before they could continue a large force broke into the carriage, splitting it in two. Phineas could only see a fierce dragon with his terrified eyes as he hung on to dear life, watching as the side of the carriage that Mister Orsic was beginning to fall as it succumbed to the force of gravity, while they only remained in the sky due to the invisible thestrals and sheer luck. Phineas could barely hear Professor Fig amongst the loud wind and the intense roars, watching helplessly at the collared dragon who dove down are gobbled up the other side of the carriage as if it was a small candy from Honeydukes. Phineas watched as the thestrals took form, just as how the pictures in textbooks describe them as black, almost skeletal like figures with bodies similar to that of a horse. Yet as the dragon breathed fire once again, he was forced to jump and hope that somehow his life would be saved miraculously.

“The Key!” Professor Fig called out as he lost his grip Phineas assumed meanwhile he was simply trying to stay conscious. “Give me your hand!” He called out in a hoarse voice to which Phineas hesitantly agreed, yet he did not know what was holding back his actions other than fear, surely some adrenaline would have kicked in by now, “Accio!” He casted wandlessly before apparating away to a much safer locale before they became the dragon’s lunch

[triedpklove]

Screenshots of the boy? I'd love to see how bad CF screwed the pooch.

So one of the main things in regards to how Roy has been written since day 1 is how he has always valued his work over himself and others -- ESPECIALLY its impact on the world. This has been fact since Calamity Trigger as shown in his side story, The Diary:

"Why do they not understand, why doesn't [Kokonoe, who is referred to as 'that woman' throughout] understand? As I've already said, this is a discovery that was lurking in the blind spot of our research. When it's the genius talking, and because a lot was said that today I feel it deeply. I definitely feel it. Firstly, only taking a light glance at it, then rejecting it as if some kind of dirt had touched it. Have you seriously stopped to think about it? It's possible. So why deny that possibility exists? If you have an answer within you then prove it to me. Something has to be done about that strange person. I've always felt that that woman is a strange one. Even if due to the deparment's spike in ability she may be a genius but that is different. In spite of being called a god that woman is useless. That woman is useless."

"Today I composed my thoughts once more. Today I had a little doubt about the design of the patterns so I omitted several vital parts in the previous entries. Right now humanity is flowing like blood, I'll explain now. It's become like this. Firstly about anti-seithr, it's the same phenomenon as the phenomenon of the Ars Magus phenomenon. To compensate for this ___ definitely the dangerous Azure which no one has noticed I'd do it once, eventually I want to skillfully, skillfully, do it. I'll have to discreetly do _______ thing ____ and that ______ was unexpected. Different from Ars Magus. Different from those Library vermin's Ars Magus. The huge Azure and azure's ______ bursts open, and the relief that forms quickly grows big, definitely rarely big so you cannot not notice it. Drawing near is dangerous, so first I have to extract that from the rear. It's directly close to the spine.If I rush there I'll die, that's for certain. After I extract the Azure ______ I'd really like to do that. I'll certainly have finally reached. I explained it with all my heart and soul, but no one is listening? to me it seems. So then I should just gently delete everyone. Gentlygentlygently_______"

Day 35 and 51 respectively.

The fact that he's so desperate to prove himself to others, ESPECIALLY KOKONOE, is the whole reason he injected himself with seithr in the first place. He wanted to prove to Kokonoe his work was worth something, even if that meant causing harm in the process.

As much as I dislike what Collisions did to Roy's backstory (as I find the idea of him being physically infected by seithr and melting into Arakune rather than him just simply. falling into the boundary and becoming Arakune more compelling and more terrifying) it did give us more insight on his character and his intentions past the little we knew from his diary and the occasional flashback we see as we play through Litchi's POV as well as her POV in Borderline and Kokonoe's POVs in That Which is Inherited.

Continued under the cut so my mega autism doesn't clog up people's dashes.

(lol, foreshadowing)

(All screenshots above are from Collisions.)

...I think that's more than enough to prove Roy's true mission and what he envisioned his work to become. And with both ways he was written, he both becomes victim to his own hubris -- whether it be him injecting himself with seithr or infusing himself with seithr via smelting. He has thrown all ethics out the window for his own research and has ruined relationships as he did so. (Although his relationship with Litchi is better detailed in Borderline.)

And then we get to Centralfiction.

Before you read this, you may think to yourself, "Oh, CF is simply a different scenario brought about by the Embryo! It makes sense that the writing would be different!" And yeah, you may be write, but in no way does it excuse it from ruining the character arcs we just saw build up throughout the past 3 games. It's pure salt in the wound and considering Centralfiction is the most fresh in a lot of BB story fans' minds it's frustrating to see a character/characters who have already been mistreated by interesting writing choices have their entire arcs ruined by some stupid AU plotline.

Honestly, I could go on forever about my opinion on this scene in it's entirety (and I have, here are some fun links) but all I really have to send is this picture:

For good measure, let's read that bottom line again:

Does that not... entirely go against literally everything I have just established previously? In this context, he's essentially telling Litchi to kill Arakune as he's okay with staying in the Boundary because the self satisfaction of studying the Boundary from the inside is more important to him than others seeing the fruits of his labor. Which entirely goes against his entire character that he has built up from Calamity Trigger until now. If you would like to watch the full scene, here is a link.

Roy is a very well written character, especially when in conjunction to Arakune, Litchi, and Kokonoe/Tager. I could very much go on more about how Centralfiction and it's decisions also destroyed the dynamic/friendship between Kokonoe but that would be another mile long post. So, I will instead share these two win quotes from Kokonoe -- one from Chronophantasma, and one from Centralfiction respectively:

"You've been infused with an Artificial Causality Weapon? Roy…"

vs.

"Kokonoe here. I've captured Lotte Carmine. Get him to my lab. Stat."

She doesn't even call him Roy.

Maybe I'll do another post detailing his relationship with Kokonoe but for now I have Japanese homework due in 30 minutes I need to get done. Hopefully this is a sufficient explanation on my opinions regarding Roy's writing in Centralfiction and how they dropped the ball on it horribly.

[mitsuki-komori]

Request: Luck has ADHD, which is one of the other reasons he had a strained relationship with his mother because she always wanted him to act "normal". Luck struggles with his ADHD. He tries to hide it from his boyfriend Magna but Magna could care less about the awful things Luck's mother said about him in the past and loves Luck for who he is and that he doesn't need to hide his true self. So I guess an angst/comfort story. I hope you have a good day :)

Sounds good. I did a little research, but I’m sorry if there’s inaccuracies in the writing. I hope you still enjoy it

“Luck!”

Luck felt someone shaking his shoulders as he was brought out of his thoughts. “Oh, Magna!” A smile quickly grew on his face. 

“What’s your problem? I said your name a few times.” Magna told him.

“Oh, I was just thinking about something!” Luck said, Magna raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t even hear me.” Magna argued.

“Because I was thinking! I already told you.” Luck put his finger to his chin. “Maybe you’re the one that’s-”

“Don’t even get started, Luck.” Magna immediately cut Luck off. Luck ran around Magna.

“Hey, do you wanna fight, Magna?” He asked. “C’mon! I’ve got so much energy today!” 

Magna sighed and shook his head. “Look, I love you and all, but we’ve already fought plenty of times today.” Magna tried to reason with Luck, but Luck was clearly not giving up that easily. “Jeez… You’re so hyper today… Weirdo.” He said.

Luck stood still for a moment.

‘Hey, mom… Isn’t that the weirdo kid?’

‘Just ignore him, sweetie.’

‘You’re such a freak! How could you possibly be my child? Why can’t you just be normal!?’

“...I guess I can try to ask Asta or Gauche.” Luck muttered before turning around to walk away. With a puzzled expression, Magna’s head jerked up as he watched Luck. Was he screwing with him again? Or did he really just give up that easily? 

Magna sighed and looked down at the table. There Luck was again… Acting strange. Don’t get him wrong, Luck’s always acting strange. However, that doesn’t matter to Magna, he’s just… Different. This is the third day he’s been so hyper, yet unmotivated if it made sense… You could tell Luck was hyper and really wanted to fight, yet he couldn’t be bothered to push enough to actually fight.

It was bugging Magna to put it simply. What bothered him more was the fact that Luck wasn’t telling him a thing. He asked once, but Luck easily dodged the question by pissing Magna off which he fell for way too easily… Although Luck wasn’t very good at talking about himself or his feelings, so it didn’t surprise Magna. It just meant he’d have to figure it out on his own.

Magna was now falling asleep in bed for the 4th time tonight after being woken up. It had to have been a few hours already, and Luck was still tossing and turning? Was he having a nightmare or has he not even fallen asleep yet?

Magna rolled over to face Luck and wrapped his arm around Luck’s waist, pulling him closer. Magna leaned in close to Luck. 

“Hey… Are you asleep?” He whispered, he heard Luck sigh and felt him shake his head.

“I can’t fall asleep.” Luck replied. 

“Are you thinking about something or was it a nightmare?” Magna asked him quietly in a calm voice.

“I guess…”

Maybe this was Magna’s chance… “Can you tell me about it?” 

Magna could feel Luck shake his head once again, which irritated Magna. “Not right now.”

“Why not? When?!” Magna spoke, it was as quiet as his whisper, yet still as effective as he would be yelling. He took his arm back and sat up, looking down at Luck who had turn to look at him, however he had still been laying down. “Something’s been bothering you for a while now and I’m really sick of it! I’m worried and I want you to tell me what’s wrong. I’ve asked a few times and I know you’ve decided you didn’t wanna talk about it, and I’ve been patient… But you’re worrying me… I need to know if something is really wrong with you.” Luck let Magna speak.

Luck looked conflicted for a few moments and turned back over. “It’s not like I’m in danger or anything, so you don’t need to worry about it… I’ll tell you another time.” He mumbled.

“Luck…!” However, Magna was cut off by Luck.

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now, Magna! Let’s just go to sleep and then fight in the morning.” 

Magna laid back down making a little ‘thump’ noise before turning away from Luck and throwing the covers back over himself with a sharp breath.

“Magna! Magna! Wake up, I wanna fight!” Magna was shaken in bed, with irritation, he shot up, nearly bonking Luck in the head.

“Ugh… Luck? The hell are you doing? What time is it?” Magna rubbed his eyes and looked at Luck.

“It’s time to fight!”

“No… We should talk. About last night…” Magna started, Luck backed up.

“No, let’s fight!” Luck gave Magna a big smile. As much as it pained him, Magna couldn’t kee letting Luck get away with this. He shook his head.

“No, Luck. We need to-“

“It’s fine, I’ll just go ask Asta or Noelle!” Luck said before waving and leaving the room.

“Wh- Luck?! Hey! Luck! Get back here!” Magna tried to throw on decent clothes swiftly as he raced out the door and through the long corridors. ‘Where’s the brat gone now?’

After about 30 minutes wandering around, he went out to the common room where most of the bulls were. However, it seemed Luck wasn’t among them, nor the sister-longing weirdo that was usually there… Nacht and Zora, Nero sometimes too obviously weren’t there either, but it was normal for them. Speaking of which, Asta and Noelle were both speaking to each other right now, Luck said he’d ask them… Did he ask Gauche or something?

Magna approached the two, “Hey, do you know where Luck is?” He asked them, Asta tilted his head while Noelle raised an eyebrow.

“You mean he didn’t tell you? He left on a mission with Gauche a few minutes ago.” Noelle explained.

“Yeah… I really wish I could’ve gone!” Asta sulked for a moment. “Oh well, more time for training!” Asta said as he went to do his own thing. 

“Asta, wait!” Noelle followed closely behind.

‘If they left a few minutes ago, I might be able to catch up if I hurry’ Magna sped towards the door when Vanessa decided to speak.

“You and your boy having one of your first couple’s arguements? Luck didn’t seem as cheery as usual today.” Vanessa hiccuped before looking back at Magna. “You should give him a little time. Talk to him about it after he gets back from his mission.”

Magna thought for a few moments and nodded, “Yeah… I guess that would be better…” Magna turned around and sat down. ‘Hold on… I didn’t even know where they were going… They could’ve had Finral make a portal for all I know! Were they really just gonna let me fly outta here?!’

Magna ate his pudding sloppily, it wasn’t in a messy way, more like he was just sluggish and deep in thought. His spoon may have missed his mouth a couple of times so he supposed he was messy in that way.

The door busted open causing almost everyone in the room to flinch. It was even more aggressive than Mereoleona! Gauche stomped into the room, Luck following behind him with an innocent expression— He clearly did something… Did he destroy another one of Gauche’s Marie photos? 

Gauche stomped over to Magna immediately and dragged him out of his seat.

“Hey! What the hell was that for?!” He yelled, confused.

“You need to get your dumb boyfriend in line, he was completely out of control! He wasn’t focusing on the battle almost got himself killed multiple times! I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but you better figure it out or else I’m gonna have to take time away from My precious Marie and beloved Grey to kill you both!” Gauche yelled at Magna before stomping away to the couch Grey was sitting on.

Magna looked at Luck, who had a bit of a guilty expression. He walked over to him, held his hand, and calmly led Luck out of the room to somewhere more private. 

“I’m back…! You wanna fight? Or maybe I’ll eat your pudd-“

“You almost got yourself killed multiple times?” Magna asked him, Luck hesitated for a few moments.

“I mean, yeah! Don’t I usually do that?” Luck chuckled, eyes shifted.

“You know what I mean, Luck! Gauche wouldn’t have said anything if this wasn’t serious, and he says you weren’t focused on the battle? That’s usually the only you thing you ever think about! No more excuses or running away, Luck. We’re talking about this right now.”

Luck took a step back. “C’mon, Magna! It’s really not that big of a deal. I just-“ Magna grabbed Luck’s shirt and held him against the wall, angry. 

“It is a big deal, Luck! You almost got yourself killed! Do you know what would’ve happened if that happened? You’re like my entire world… I wouldn’t be able to go on happily without you…” Magna explained to Luck, his grip loosening. Luck just stared with wide eyes full of shock.

“Magna…”

Magna let go and lowered his arms, wrapping them around Luck. “Please… Just tell me what’s wrong… I‘ll listen, and I’ll be there for you.” 

After Magna had pulled back, Luck snickered to himself weakly with a slight smile. “I guess I’ll tell you then…” Luck thought for a few moments. “Well… One of the bigger reasons me and my mother had such a… complex relationship… Was because of my ADHD. She really wanted a normal child, so she was always telling me to act normal… All the kids in my village were always whispering about me too… The Black Bulls were the first people that accepted me. I didn’t wanna ruin that…”

Magna stood there for a few moments, no words. “You were acting like this because you didn’t think we’d accept your ADHD? You, dumbass! Of course you fine. I mean, Gauche has been here longer than both of us and they still kept him! We’re all weird outcasts here, I couldn’t give a shit whether you have it or not. It was pretty obvious anyway.”

Luck perked up, then laughed a little, “Oh…”

“Luck, I’ll always love you no matter what, everyone has their strange flaws. I don’t give a crap about what your mother said because none of it was true. So don’t go getting yourself killed over it, alright? I was telling the truth, I really don’t think I could be happy without you…”

“Aw… I love you too, Magna! Even if your a street punk!” Luck cheered.

“Yes… Even if I’m a street punk. I love you for who you are, and I don’t want you to hide your true self from me ever. I want to have all of you. And I’ll give you the same in return. Is that alright?”

Luck quickly nodded with a big smile and hugged Magna. “Yeah! That means are fights will be more deadly now, right?! No holding back anything?” He jumped back and punched the air. Magna sighed.

“Did you not listen to a damn you I just said, brat?” Magna muttered, annoyed. Luck leaned in close and planted a kiss on Magna’s lips. Magna was frozen for a few moments, it’s always such an immense feeling every time… 

“I’m really in the mood for chocolate right now, I’m gonna go check the fridge! Hopefully there won’t be any chocolate pudding belong to a street punk~” Luck teased back as he walked backwards and ran off. 

Magna clenched his fist and gritted his teeth, chasing after Luck knowing fully well he’d be completely out of breath and pudding by the time he caught up. He didn’t care though, real men never give up!

“Get back here, brat! You did that to distract me, didn’t you?!”

“Maybe~! Try to catch me if you can!” Luck laughed, what an unfair game he’s playing!

“You bet your dumbass that I’m gonna catch you.” Magna chased Luck full speed. Magna looked at Luck smiling and felt determined.

“Would you guys calm down for once? I’ve got a terrible headache…” Vanessa complained as they burst into the room.

“Haha, sorry Vanessa! I just had to get something out of the fridge real quick!” Luck smiled.

Magna charged towards Luck, but Luck easily dodged and ran into the kitchen.

“Ugh… What a pain in the ass…” Magna took a deep breath, “…LUCK!”

[aenariasbookshelf]

Preview - untitled holiday story

In my defense, the entire story is outlined, even though I only have a few thousand words written so far. But it is the right season, and I need an entry for this week’s challenge for @darcylewisbingohq​. This preview perfectly fits the ‘returning home prompt’, if I do say so...

title: ...I’ll get back to you on that when I figure it out author: Aenaria rating: this bit is Gen, the whole story is likely to be M/Explicit prompt filled: returning home characters: Darcy Lewis, her family, Steve Rogers, a whole host of other Avengers pairings: Darcy/Steve (this should not be surprising by now) tags/warnings: none for this part, but I’ll update this field as needed link: summary: In which Darcy Lewis returns home for the holidays.

Chapter One - Friday, December 20, 2019

“Yes, Grandma, I swear, I’m coming tomorrow.  Yes, I’ll be there by sundown.  I’ve already got my train ticket!”

That last statement is a total lie, but Darcy will never tell her grandma that.  

She doesn’t have a time management problem, she swears.  It’s just that sometimes other things (like helping Jane explore the universe) end up taking priority and she forgets things like buying an Amtrak ticket until she’s at the station, hoping like hell there’s still a seat available and paying through the nose for the one remaining business class ticket on the entire train.  But this time?  Well, the first night of Hanukkah’s on Sunday.  And Christmas is just a few days after that.  And everyone under the sun (or at least in the United States) is going to be traveling this weekend.

She’s so screwed.

Maybe she could rent a car and drive?  It’s not that long to get to Brooklyn from the Avengers’ Compound, only a few hours.  She thinks, at least.  She’d have to look at a map.

So, so screwed.

Darcy shoves the latest stack of printed results under one arm, and uses her other shoulder to keep her phone propped by her ear.  “Did I what?” she asks, then rolls her eyes when her grandma repeats her question.  “No, not yet.  I’ll get them something down in Brooklyn...yes, I realize we have all sorts of artsy villages and stores upstate, but I haven’t had time to pick up the perfect trinket for Aunt *insert name here*...why?  Because work...look, I’ll text you when I’m on the train tomorrow...Okay, bye Grandma.”

She jabs her thumb down on the little red button with far more force than is needed, and drops the phone into her pocket.  The sigh that she lets out is near explosive, and she resists the urge to bang her head against the doorframe to the lab.  This really is a minor issue, and Darcy knows she’s making all too big a deal out of something that has a simple solution.  But she’s already got that reputation in her family, the one who would be late for her own funeral if she had the chance, of being just that much of a flake because she legitimately forgot about something.  And the last thing she wants to do is let down her grandma.

“Okay,” she tells herself, taking a deep breath.  “Walk this stuff over to Jane in the main building, then research trains, then research rental cars.  You can do this, girl.”

Jane’s lucky in that she and Darcy have a small little lab building to themselves to work out of on the main Avengers’ Compound, so that they can do work at night to their heart’s content and not have to worry about disruptions from busybodies, but there are some days when the main building has the equipment that they need.  Also the 24 hour canteen there was a godsend on those days when Darcy had to make sure Jane actually fed her body and not just her brain.

It’s in this main building where Darcy overhears what could possibly be her Hanukkah miracle.  It’s a little fuzzy, overheard with one ear as she’s rushing past.

“What time’s your flight at LaGuardia tomorrow?  I want to make sure we leave here on time.”

Darcy literally freezes in her tracks, then walks backwards until she’s standing next to Steve and Sam, who have paused in their chatter to watch her bemusedly.  “Did I hear you two say you’re heading down to the city tomorrow?”  She may be perpetually late, but never let it be said that Darcy doesn’t have balls.  Just because Steve may be Captain America doesn’t mean that he’s not a friend of hers (that she has a mad crush on, but she’s not going to think about that right now in her hour of need) that she can’t ask for a favor.

Steve’s eyebrows raise up, and there’s a slight smile on his face.  “Yes?  I’m giving Sam a ride to the airport.”

“Got room for one more?”

[nach0]

broken feathers and bloody wings

Summary:

Humanoid anomalies grow wings after a certain stage of development in their powers.

Iris has always hated hers.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 1244

Iris knew she was screwed the minute she heard a long and disappointed sigh.

Which was ridiculous. She was an MTF commander, trained in hundreds of forms of combat, the sole survivor of Omega-7.

She could have just kept walking. Once she was in her cell there was nothing Jacqueline could do to follow her. But she knew it would just make future missions awkward and tense.

“Is there something you needed?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. Maybe if she just bluffed...

“You are aware it’s very obvious when you’re binding, right sir?”

She was, in fact, aware, but she blamed the foundation entirely for that. They denied her proper binds so she had to resort to other things. Like tying her wings together with rope and hiding them under her jacket.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Denial was great. It was her favourite thing. It got her through psych evals and awkward conversations about her feelings.

It wasn’t working.

Jacqueline sighed at her. Again. Iris was already over this ‘disappointed friend’ act. “Right, jacket off. Did you at least make the knot easy to untie?”

“You could just leave it alone and stop bothering me.”

“So no then. Let me do my job and be your medic.”

She reluctantly shrugged off her jacket, pulling out the knife she definitely wasn’t supposed to have to cut the ropes off herself. Most skips would hate having a weapon so close to their wings. Iris was long past caring.

Once she was done Jacqueline pulled the rest of the rope away and let bright red wings stretch and fill the hallway. “How many of us have told you to stop doing this now?”

Iris looked straight ahead at the wall. “They’re a hindrance on missions and reveal me immediately as an anomaly. That’s all.”

“Sure. That’s why you keep them bound and hidden for as long as you can get away with even after we’re back on site.”

She was starting to get annoyed and kept her wings tightly to herself. No use training herself out of expressing with them if one slip-up ruined everything.

“It’s none of your business.” She said with professional detachment. She was the commander, and Jacqueline was one of her soldiers. Nothing more than that. “My wings and my reasons for hating them are my business.”

“...Hating?” Her voice was filled with concern, so genuine it made Iris want to punch something. Or cry. Probably both. “Sir, that’s-”

“I said hiding. You misheard.”

That moment made for the perfect time to leave, so she turned and stormed away without another word. Her cell was silent, but it was safe from judgement and invasive questions.

At least until word of the incident got back to her foundation-mandated therapist.

Horary.

~

SCP-105 Iris Thompson was 15 years old. She hadn’t left her bed in weeks, but that was fine.

There were no missions anymore.

Her photos had been confiscated, but that was fine too. They only showed dead bodies now.

It hadn’t been long after the... disbandment of the team that her wings had started to grow in. The researchers had been ecstatic, saying she’d reached an important stage in the development both her life and powers.

They’d been less excited to explain what cardinal wings represented.

Grief and loss.

How fitting.

She couldn’t believe they expected her to be excited about it.

To her, they were just the final nail in the coffin proving she wasn’t normal.

Because otherwise she could pretend. She could look normal, act normal, and aside from outdated references, she spoke normally. Take her photos away and she was just as average as anyone else.

Wings weren’t average. And now there was no chance of her ever being let go. Even if she lost her powers, actually lost them with multiple tests to prove it, she was a risk to the veil.

And yet they still tried to offer her incentives based on them. Flight training if she engaged with the researchers. Time in a safe airspace if she ate full meals consistently.

It was shocking how they hadn’t realised that it made her far less likely to comply.

The door to her cell opened. She didn’t bother to move from her blanket lump.

“105, you need to get up. Learning to use your wings has now been made mandatory.”

She mentally weighed the pros and cons of being abrasive before deciding she was too tired to care.

“Fuck off.”

There was a long pause. Almost enough to make her regret her decision.

“You will be escorted by force if necessary.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, she sat up. Stretched out her wings. Ran a hand along the feathers.

Iris made eye contact with the researcher as she grabbed hold of one of her primaries and yanked. Then she did another. And another.

By the time they snapped out of their shock and called the guards, her wing was mangled beyond use. There was no way she could fly on the bloody mess, even if her other side was untouched.

She lost a lot of privileges for that stunt, but they’d got the message.

She would never use her wings.

~

Jacqueline had snitched.

Iris was now required to have her wings out at all times while not on missions, which included the cafeteria. She’d avoided it for a while before being told how worried Leora and Stacy were about her, and couldn’t she just come out for a little while to reassure them?

Dammit. She had gone soft.

The pair had swarmed on her immediately, asking questions about where she’d been and if she was hurt.

Usually they were satisfied with grunts and non-committal answers, however seemingly sprouting wings out of nowhere was much more interesting than her classified missions.

“Will we get them?”

“If you’re lucky, no.”

“Do they hurt you?”

“Not anymore.”

“Can you fly on them?”

“Never learned.”

“Can I touch them?”

Stacy’s question threw her and she paused, blinking slightly.

Wings were meant to be personal. They were fragile and much more painful than regular limbs when injured.

But... letting her do it would be an even bigger flip off to the researchers constantly trying to get her to accept them. Besides, she’d been shot before. What damage could one teenager do?

“Alright.”

Leora and Stacy both looked shocked at her response, though they quickly scrambled over to her side of the bench when she spread her wings wide.

There were a number of marks, crooked feathers that had never healed quite right, but they were gasping like it was the coolest thing they’d ever seen.

Stacy carefully reached out and ran a hand along it, frowning slightly at the dirt and dust she’d never bothered to clean out. She gently started trying to brush it out, only to freeze as Iris-

Well, Iris chirped.

She had never once made a bird noise. Not even in distress. But the minute someone is gentle with them-

“We are never talking about this again,” she hissed, standing and almost tripping over the table in her rush to leave. Everyone moved out of the way of a pissed Commander Thompson and she was back at her cell in record time.

A loud groan escaped her.

Everyone who talked about ‘self-care’ and ‘not neglecting an entire part of your body’ was going to be insufferable.

Though she had to admit she wouldn’t mind someone doing it again.

[no--greater--burden]

I recall that autumn day, years ago. I couldn’t believe you had agreed to a second date, after the unfortunate abrupt ending of the first, but when I finally screwed up the courage to ask, you accepted.

You liked my idea of a picnic, so I packed up my wicker basket with the leather shoulder strap, with the sandwiches, some caprese salad, and a decent bottle of a dry, white wine, sadly with paper cups. A nice off-white blanket, and we were on our way.

You were wearing shorts, and that pink baby-T I loved seeing you in, and I was the same, with my favorite red T shirt (the one without stains), which I’ve since misplaced. I wonder if you still have yours after all these years.

It’s interesting the things we remember, small details as if from past lives, forever etched in our memories. That day is one of them for me, and I can only hope for you as well. I remember it with fond regret as the first time I kissed you, and also the last.

It was an early autumn day, not unlike today, with the leaves just beginning to show some color, but still a dry warmth in the air. It was sunny, but clouds were moving in as I dropped the blanket beneath an old oak, acorns crunching under our feet, and we made small talk as we both looked out over the lake a short distance away. I do not remember the precise words we spoke, but we talked of books we had read, and our favorite movies, and of things people getting to know each other talk about. For me it was a giddy heady time as I was absolutely smitten with you and could barely avert my eyes long enough to pull the carefully packaged food from the basket and spread it before us.

Fortunately, you liked your sandwich (I did my research), and the caprese salad was challenging with the paper and plastic, but good. We were both able to drink a single paper cup full of the sweet wine before tragedy struck by way of a stray gesture, and the bottle fell over, white wine pouring out onto the white blanket.

In your haste to avoid the tiny flood trickling toward you, you tried to stand and somehow lost your balance, teetering for a long second, before slowly falling forward towards me. I caught you, and you were able to gently sink down, kneeling in front of me, inches away.

Memories can be so strange. I’ve always had this one but like many memories, I’ve never shared or revealed it to anyone, keeping it safely hidden in that abyss which lies behind our eyes, where it has lain, watching for all these years. I cannot now even recall your name (maybe it was Laura?), or how we met, or why we never saw each other again, but that single, unremarkable autumn afternoon is indelibly marked on my soul.

I remember how you looked that day, and in all honesty, how you looked that day became my standard for what I looked for in a partner. Your long brown hair, tucked in a bun and framing your almond shaped face, warm brown eyes and high, full cheeks, above a generous mouth, with softly smiling lips. Those kissable lips. The face of an angel, sent to Earth that I might have a taste of heaven. Why this memory has chosen now to seize my attention, as I near my final hour, I cannot say.

There you were kneeling forward, your face close to mine, and in that moment, time slowed as my heart thundered in my chest. I could hear my blood coursing though my veins, a drumbeat of urgency as my back and my cheeks flushed warm, and instantly, I knew I had to consume you.

It would be easy to have passed this off as mere lust, an emotion I have experienced often, but this was not that. Lust consumes with a goal, there is an end, consummation and then satiation. Even hunger is imprecise, as hunger can be quelled in the consumption. If anything, this was like gluttony, which can never be satisfied because it is the act of the consumption itself which is craved. This was an eternal moment, where I could feel the desire, in all it’s urgency, but it was not your flesh I wished to consume only, it was you. The *youness* of you. I wanted to breathe your essence in and make it my own. To merge with it, to infuse my being with you, bonding us for eternity.

In that moment, I had a choice, or rather, an inevitability. I could laugh it off, start cleaning the wine, and we would continue with our day as the clouds continued to approach with the rumbling of distant thunder on the horizon. Or…

It was as if a dream, as I reached up and moved a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. It was as if some unknown force was directing my movements as my hand lingered by your ear, then cupping your face gently, broadcasting my intention as I leaned in for the kiss. Nervously I touched my lips to yours, softly at first, a caress. An electric caress that charged every nerve in my body and made me gasp, my tenderness a taut membrane holding back a tidal assault. Then, with no resistance, I pressed them more firmly, opened slightly to envelope yours. I sucked gently on your upper lip, as your hands moved to pull me closer.

My tongue probed tentatively, then piercing your mouth, darting in and out in shallow thrusts, your tongue met mine, and joined in the parry and riposte. I breathed in your breath, and you inhaled mine, and our tongues fenced and danced while our hands roamed freely over each other as time stood still, and the world ceased to exist. The ardor of my kisses intensified, as tenderness gave way to hunger, and my mouth opened as if to swallow you whole. Our mouths merged, becoming one mouth, our tongues intertwined in their mock battle, our breath exchanging our essence as we both sought to consume the other.

That strand of hair I tenderly tucked became collateral damage as I stroked your hair, disheveling it out of careless passion. I noticed my lips becoming insensate from their reckless onslaught and withdrew to seek more tender territory. I kissed along your cheek, reaching your ear. You felt my breath there, and shivered, as I explored your lobe with my tongue and teeth.

You squirmed slightly, as my tongue probed your ear, and I withdrew, softly kissing, tongue probing, and lightly sucking as you tilted your head to one side and my lips made their way down your neck, and then your shoulder. I tugged the fabric of your shirt back, and kissed along your shoulder, inhaling your scent. Light bites and nibbles made you giggle, and I began a more rapid ascent of your neck and cheek and returned to your waiting mouth, refreshed for hungry exploration of your parting lips.

My legs had become outstretched before me and around you, as you switched to sitting, your legs outstretched around me and over my legs. Our faces were level and rocked slowly from side to side as we caressed one another’s cheeks, and chins, and shoulders, and necks and hair. As the sound of approaching thunder intensified, we were heedless, our lips continued to part and close and press and withdraw in a kiss that neither of us seemed to want to end.

Again, my mouth wandered slowly along your other cheek, stopping briefly at your ear, and then down your neck to the other shoulder, all the while breathing in your unique, exquisite, intoxicating scent. From your shoulder, as I tipped your head back slightly, my mouth wandered to your throat; that vulnerable expanse of the most tender flesh. I sucked gently, and kissed along it, and then up your chin, and back to your parted lips as I gazed admiringly at your half-closed eyes and marveled at my good fortune.

Unrestrained, our hands began to roam more freely, oblivious to a loud crack of thunder nearby, and I pulled you even closer with my hands pressed against the area below your lower back. My chest against yours, our bellies nearly touching, as our lips and tongues continued their now casual exchange, like old friends, settling in for a comfortable evening.

My hands wandered up your back, and to the sides, and then one cupped as it slowly enveloped your breast, and I sighed as we felt a drop, then another, followed by a multitude of drops, and the rain came.

This is so beautifully written, it almost feels like a memory I'd forgotten from a different time of life.

To the person who wrote this: thank you for taking the time to pen such a wonderfully imagined scenario and sharing it with me. You are a talented writer and kind to include me in this fantasy.

You are assigned this📜emoji, should you choose to write again.

[storylocke]

Alolan Dusk 11

[The building seemed eerily quiet given the circumstances. Most who worked at the Dimensional Research Lab had already left, and even the doorman seemed surprised to hear that the lead researcher hadn't been in contact with any of the Aether staff since they arrived. The affirmation that she hadn't been down all day only fueled the concern as Lillie and Guzma rushed inside.] 

Guzma:

[While they take the elevator up, there's a long, quiet moment as he seems lost in his thoughts] Sheesh. Every time I try to do good, more often than not, I just make a mess of things. And boy did I screw up this time. 

Lillie:

What did you do? It's not your fault you weren't by the phone when she called. 

Guzma:

Not that. [The doors open and the two step into the short hallway, hurrying to the apartment. He gives a knock. Anxiously waiting] I should have come sooner. I haven't talked to her since we got the news about Kukui. I didn't think she'd wanna see me. 

Lillie:

And why not? [Folds her hands together as there's no answer. He knocks again as she tries not to wring her fingers] It sounded like she's just as worried about you like she is for the rest of us.

Guzma:

And tell her what? "I'm sorry the thing I unleashed decided to eat your husband"? Maybe "Hey! I heard my old rival got blasted into next week, so I just thought I'd check up on you." It's just weird, y'know? [Still no answer? He presses an ear to the door and thinks he can hear movement inside. Braces himself a moment as he knocks harder] Burnet? It's ya boy Guzma, open up! 

Lillie:

[Softly with a bit of regret] Did you and the professor ever fight over this? I know we told them about what happened with the Altar and everything, but I wouldn't want anyone mad at you for….

Guzma:

Nah. Kukui and I butt heads over a lot of things, but that wasn't one of 'em. Pestering me a lot for his little investigation, but, uh…. … [Looks down at Lillie as though asking for permission] Know what? We're going in.

Lillie:

[Her face fills with anguish at the thought of what they'd find on the other side. She gives him a nod and moves out of the way.] I'm calling Quips to tell him what's going on. 

[She walks away and starts tapping on her phone while he takes a step back and readies his shoulder to ram the door. But it suddenly opens! He's stunned to see Burnet almost as much as she appears to see him. The researcher lets out a slight gasp as sleepless, watery eyes gaze up at him before she abruptly throws her arms around his neck to pull him down into a hug.] 

Burnet:

Dear gods, I was starting to fear the worst! What a relief to know you're safe~! 

Guzma:

Me?! After the messages I got?! 

Burnet:

[Eases up to let him stand as she wipes at her face. She tries to smile but her voice still sounds on the brink of tears] I know, I'm such a mess right now. You have NO idea what happened to me last night. 

[From this perspective, Guzma can't help but look past her to peer into the apartment. It's a fairly simple layout with most of the place being one big room, which made him zero in on the bedroom door that had been torn off its hinges. The door was still there, leaning against the wall beside the frame, but it was beyond repair as the lighter colored wood where it had been splintered stuck out like a beacon. There were still sounds coming from further in, too. A hush of movement from that same room.]

Guzma:

[Disturbed, keeping his voice low] …I'll take three guesses. 

Lillie:

Burnet! [Runs over to give the woman a hug as well.] Oh, I've just been worried sick about you! 

Burnet:

[That caught her attention as she lets go of Guzma and stares at the girl somewhat mortified.] Lillie!? What are you doing here?! D-d-don't you have a gazillion things you're supposed to be doing right now? Or something? 

Lillie:

It's been a lot of plan changes over the course of the day. [Her excitement fades as the look she's getting isn't what she had expected this long awaited meeting would be like] And when we heard your message, I just had to come over. 

[Guzma slips past to let them speak but he doesn't take his eyes off the open doorway as he cautiously moves closer. He clenches his fist, and punches it into the open palm of his other hand as a strange noise, a deep, guttural growl can be heard.]

Guzma:

Alright, ya freak, show yourself! 

[Burnet hears him, and motions for Lillie to stay outside before she rushes over. A man steps through the doorway, and pauses as he locks eyes with the former Boss and shifts into position like a large cat about to pounce.] 

Guzma:

[Drops his own battle stance as he's hit with with a wave of mixed emotions] …Kukui?

Burnet:

[Defensively gets between them as she stares down the Shadow.] Honey, please! These are friends! [Slowly approaches him as she sees she has his attention] Friends? Remember Guzma? 

[Kukui eyes the stranger before he suddenly pulls Burnet into a protective embrace. After a moment he notices the girl in the doorway, glares at them with that same guttural noise from before, and tries to retreat with his treasure. Lillie can only gaze in horror as she hesitates to run to help but Guzma moves first.] 

Guzma: 

[Taking off his jacket in preparation for a fight] Hey, get your paws off of her! 

Burnet:

[Awkwardly tries to turn to them with pleading in her eyes] It's okay, he's just scared right now. [Nervously] Now you see why I didn't want anyone else to know. But, since you spend so much time with the others, I thought you might know how to help. I… I don't know what to do…

Guzma:

Tch, alright. I don't know if I can do much. Just need him to pick up that we're not a threat. [Eases up as he sees she's probably right. Even if he didn't understand, it didn't look like Kukui was going to hurt her.] How long has he been hiding here? 

Burnet:

He showed up just last night. I've no idea how he even got here. 

Guzma:

[Shrugs] Fueled by anger, love, and badassery, for all we know. 

Lillie:

[Just shakes her head as she feels her heart breaking all over again] Professor… [Tries to step closer] It's me. Lillie? You took me in like a daughter back when… 

Guzma:

[Holds out an arm to stop her from going past him] Sorry, kid. New Shadows don't really remember anything, so… I mean, given what we know happened to him, he probably thinks he's still under attack from Necrozma. [That brings up an idea though as he addressed the Shadow] Got a problem with the black? We'll just get rid of the black. [Tosses his jacket into the hall] Better?

[Kukui seems all the more confused by the action, but he does slowly let go of his wife. He doesn't take his eyes off Guzma though, as if still watching for any sudden movements] 

Guzma:

[Frowns] Well, it was worth a shot.

Lillie: 

[Softly nods in understanding.] We found some footage recently that showed he was trying to protect Ilima that night. So maybe that's why he's protecting Burnet now? 

Burnet:

[Brushes herself off, but doesn't step away just yet as she's unsure if he'll get set off again] Actually… I um… [Glances up at Kukui] He wasn't the only one to show up here. [The other two visibly tense up and she can see they've already guessed. Saddened and scared at the still fresh horror of it all] I think Kukui came here because we found out where Necrozma is. 

Guzma: [Unsure how he feels about that, but his mind starts trying to piece things together] Burnet, what the hell happened last night?

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: The last of the mainland meetings, let's go~! This was originally combined with the last chapter, and looking back I'm not really sure why since it just feels like this should be a contained moment, y'know?

Archive

[the-mothmaam]

The Cycle

I blamed Jessica for being caught in a narcissitic cycle. But I've been caught in a cycle of my own. My research into narcissim helped show just how close its always been to my life. I'm almost certain my dad had it now that I reflect on the kind of person that he was.

He loved to be in the limelight. He never liked to share the stage much when he was Pack Master. All the cool things he did he hyper inflated their importance, because they gave him importance. This usually became more about his skits and inventions, like the Pinewood Derby tracks, which - yes, dad that was both cool and impressive as Hell.

But I didn't have the support I needed from him. And he kept leaving. Mom did the best she could, but she was emotional enough for three parents. The truth of the matter is that I had a pretty fucked up childhood, between the physical abuse and the devaluing my parents put onto my sincere best efforts.

It makes a lot of sense why I would be attracted to someone like that. My presence helps give them the attention they desire. My need to emotionally reinforce people inflates them. And so I feel useful. And if I'm not useful, I'm a nuissance - or at least that's what I was trained to believe. It's why I self sacrifice so much.

I'm shit at self soothing too. I'm always lonely. Always so needy. And that's my cycle. I find people who "need" me and then because I don't know how to self soothe I become clingy, hoping for someone to fix the abyss inside of me that never seems to be filled. And when they don't I break down or lash out. It happened with Glynn, it happened with Cody, it happened with Eto, and it happened with Jessica. In each instance I felt my usefulness slip away and so I became needy and drove them away.

If I can't be enough for myself. I'll never be enough for other people. My inner critic tears me down so often, and with such conviction that I find it hard to believe I can ever permenantly get a leg-up on it. But something tells me that if I don't try then I might end up doing the same thing with Amy, who, since I have a business relationship with, she'll be even less tolerant of it.

Nobody can fix me except myself. And while I have flaws I need to get it into my head that I'm not broken. I don't know how or when I got it in my head that I am, but I have surrounded myself with people who only reinforce that throughout my life.

I wish this mattered for anything in the past that I've screwed up, but I guess that's what life is, fallling down, getting back up and trying better next time. My emotions are just so painful when I think back on everything that I've lost. It's hard for me to cope with loss. Mom talked about her eventual death last night and I nearly broke down in tears. Why can't I be more okay with the transient nature of people AND life? Why do I feel that any of it is due to me to be static? Maybe I'll ask Amy. Something inside me makes me think its just human nature. But that's really fucked up because the human condition runs counter to that axiom. So it seems like, if that's the case everyone, everywhere is always going to exist more stabily. When is it ever going to be enough for any of us?

Shit. I guess I need to work at just being more appreciative of what I have while I have it.... just like they suggested I do in the hospital.

I hate that there is so much Truth that I've never been privlage to just floating around me like some miopic miasma. But that's another problem for another entry / time / session.

[yeonchi]

Because we'll be having a referendum on this later this year and I somehow feel the need to address this at some point, I just wanted to give my thoughts about the Indigenous Voice to Parliament, which is purely my own thoughts because I haven't got the time to invest myself in the debate.

Someone please tell me why we should have an Indigenous Voice to Parliament when the Aboriginal community, at one point, felt the need to make this:

Nah come on, we can do better than reusing jokes originally intended for "Invasion Day" lol.

In all honesty, while I do believe that the government should take Indigenous voices into consideration (particularly in the remote outback), I'm not entirely sure how and to what extent the Voice will help Indigenous communities, and even if I did, I don't see why it needs to be in the Constitution. Another concern I have is that hypothetically, if there is a potential bill that could help all Australians, but the Voice committee doesn't believe that it would help the Indigenous community, then the bill might not get passed, let alone read, in Parliament because of that. Hence, for the time being, my intention will be to vote No.

You'd think I'd probably be voting Yes given that I'm a Hongkonger and things have happened over the past few years, but this is totally more than me being bitter over the world never giving Hongkongers more of a voice than we deserved.

Over the past few years I've seen the pandering to Indigenous communities gradually escalate from things like the Acknowledgement of Country to outright renaming places to their original Indigenous names out of political correctness. It happened with the City of Moreland, now City of Merri-bek, last year.

While I'll admit that it's nice to know what and whose Country I'm standing on and the same for other places, I'd be okay with the use of Indigenous names if they were used alongside the standard colonial names, not in place of them. If the left wants to call Melbourne "Naarm", then I'm allowed to call it "Hong Kong" just because it's part of the One Country, Two (Naming) Systems scheme of my personal project.

This whole debacle with the Voice and its potential consequences happened because of woke sycophants pandering to sore losers demanding the "decolonisation" of this country while completely neglecting that they wouldn't be living in such a modern society without the things that colonialism bought (for better or worse) along with the communities in the outback that are still facing issues (admittedly brought on by the government in most cases), such as welfare, crime and substance abuse.

But hey, despite my ignorant, edgy and low-key bigoted opinions, I'll happily admit that I'm not the best person to be talking about Indigenous issues - mostly because I don't have the time to care. What I will say though, after what little I know and what little research I did, is that I'm not entirely sure that the Voice, at least in its current form, is the answer, even if it may seem like a means to an end.

At the time of writing this there hasn't been an announcement on when the referendum will take place, so until then I might try to keep an open mind about this. Maybe I'll end up changing my mind, who knows.

UPDATE - 30 August 2023: So it's been announced that the referendum will be on 14 October. Honestly, at this point in time, my stance hasn't really changed.

I watched the 2022 Boyer Lecture with Noel Pearson last night (because there was going to be a screening of it at work on Monday but I couldn't go because I was on a later shift and I had to work from home because of it) and I understood why the indigenous people are calling for recognition. My stance didn't change, but after mulling over it while writing this update, I justify my stance as essentially being, "what if they screw it up?" Once it gets passed, there is no way that the Voice to Parliament can be abolished without it seeming racist and such a referendum would be rejected by Parliament, if not the electorate. So why not have the referendum be about acknowledging that the land was "stolen" and that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders are the traditional owners, then establish the Voice separately after the referendum has passed? Heck, they could have done a second question on the referendum to that effect.

I'm honestly ashamed to admit this, but during the 2017 same-sex marriage plebiscite, I originally considered voting Yes before I ended falling to the pressure of my family and decided to stand with them and my Christian friends in voting No, citing the breakdown of the traditional nuclear family and the slippery slopes of legalising polyamory, incest and pedophilia as well as "trans issues", like men going into female toilets. I'm guilty of being bigoted on that part, but in the years to come, I saw the actions of people like Chris-chan, Yaniv and Keffals (re. #DropKiwiFarms) and realised that my perceived "bigotry" was somewhat vindicated, and not in a good way either.

And as such, that is why I'm still intending to vote No, because I believe the potential aftereffects of enshrining the Voice in our constitution could lead to something just as bad, if not worse, than the three trans people I mentioned earlier. Heck, Lidia Thorpe's doing a good job of it right now and she's voting No because she believes in Treaty before Voice.

But hey, there's still six weeks until the referendum, so who knows, maybe my mind will have changed by then. Then again, in the five weeks since I originally made this post, I never managed to find the time to care, so I'm kind of doubting it.

On the other hand though, if this was a referendum for Australia to become a republic like in 1999, I would vote Yes in a heartbeat because I believe the Royal Family has lost whatever relevance it had left after Queen Elizabeth II's death, plus the Governor-General (Governors in the states) are basically just figureheads for the Crown with no real power. Coincidentally, the preamble proposed in the second question of the 1999 referendum contained a clause that recognised Indigenous people as "the nation's first people". I'm not kidding.

[the-firebird69]

The python are at 301 Baldwin Ave in Arcadia California which is close to Los Angeles it's a different aviary and they're growing them into big proportions 30 40 ft and one is about 50 ft and about 3 ft around and it can crumple a bus and they don't have controls of the proper sedative and they are ignorant and how to deal with it and don't have suits that they use their walking in about them as if they're nothing and eventually they will attack them for their absurd behavior as everybody does and they're going to be nothing shortly.

The other aspect of it is Maunas Brazil, they're building a building there and several of them and using steel surprisingly and around my mom's house is there arrogant people and I wanted to stop I need them out it's ridiculous to let them do this but Tommy F was encouraging it and mac and a whole bunch of people really figured out he's killing them and jumping them into muck from his ships and putting them in the yards and he's a pig and it's good the evidence is there and people are researching it and finding out as him and he's getting killed by a lot of people and his forces are dying here the hands of a lot of people Brad and his people are going to town on these nuts and VGA too are hitting them off heavily. But if you want to find those python that's where they are and his construction projects and my husband says we should take the steel and the equipment anyway they're building because they can't seem to build anything before we're saying and they're the ones who shut down his company his small company and Ron faldetta says it too Mike did it on purpose with this asinine plan they're running so we're going to go after him and we started going after him in the past and I set up a maintenance program and I kept adding to it I got a very huge I said how big is it supposed to be and they said as big as an acid and she said to use it as a template and create maintenance programs for each of these videos and then start doing it and it saved us that's how a genius is and how much it's worth talking about for you nothing but you don't think about it so it's good and we know why but really like they have billions and billions of devices versus your few million you know makes a big difference and your people are just coming right up to people and getting rid of themselves

Katia Equiz

We're going to sue you already understand and you're his daughter and you're screwed him and we're going to sue you for that too you don't understand do you're stupid and we're going to bring suit on you against you about the documents case cuz you're a terrorist and I'm going to bring that to the government's attention to get fired as a lawyer