#i mean i get that this story is a little loud with the symbolism

[ominouspositivity-or-else]

one of my friends didn't like the story i wrote and with the kind of stuff i write i need to get used to it but i wasnt expecting it and so it kind of hurt and kind of has been hurting for the last month

[noisyghost]

(I started sketching this design nearly immediately after season 2 ended but just now had some time to clean it up so. Excuse me rambling out loud here)

TLDR; I actually really liked the initial design + direction for Warwick-Vander (I <3 human faced werewolves)! But the show design kinda felt like a transitory state between Vander and Warwick to me, so I wanted to try my hand at blending his Arcane design with his in game design. Like a "what would he look like if the transformation kept going" kinda thing. There's a few things I'm not fully settled on, but Im mostly satisfied :)

(rambling under the readmore, its 3 am as i type this lol)

When season 2 first started, I sort of had it in my head that the narrative would have Vander "die" for Warwick to finish the transformation into his final form, forcing Vi and Jinx to finally say goodbye together. Well! That didn't happen lol. I mean. Vander did "die", but whatever was left behind isn't really Warwick. I'm not quite sure what they were going for, either with him or with how Jinx "dies", its all just a little messy when i feel like there was a more obvious narrative conclusion.

Visually i think the final design in the show is cool removed from context, but it doesn't really make sense to me in regards to the story. Like. Warwicks whole thing is that he curbs his violent impulses by killing "bad guys" in the undercity. League lore is a hot fucking mess and I don't even go there so I get that they (the writers) were playing fast and loose but I can see why so many Warwick fans were less than pleased with where the show leaves him, because it doesn't really feel like the same character outside of his initial experimentation.

In my own idea palace, Jinx fakes her death and leaves Warwick to be Zaun's new mascot. Having this literal monster that eats bad guys and saves innocent people in the process become a new symbol for Zaun feels like a no brainer to me. Imagine the iconography they'd make for this thing! And it brings Vanders whole schtick back around; he still "dies" but the Literal Memory of him lives on in Zaun, still protecting the people he cared about most. You get the bittersweet ending of Vi and Jinx having to move on because hes not really their dad anymore, but their memory is what keeps Warwick "human", still with Zaun even if Vi is doing Piltover shit and Jinx is off exploring the world.

Idk! I know the implication that Jinx faked her death is there, but whatever happens to Warwick seems to be like they didnt really have the time to fully explore the ideas they were going for, so a couple characters just got kinda left floating at the end there. If Ekko and Jinx werent going to run away together, I wanted to see Ekko befriending Warwick so they could fight to make Zaun a better place.

I have more coherent ideas than this but it's 3 am when im typing this so sorry if im not eloquent enough to properly explain what im thinking. Ekko and his weird dog that used to be his uncle. Imagine.

[the-whispers-of-death]

I read the veteran one with Ghost and I am in LOVE!!! I wanna ask for more veteran male reader and Ghost bcs just hwrkemendksdndn love it!! If you dont wanna do it its fine and feel free to ignore this if you want but just so you know I LOVE THE WAY YOU WROTE IT!!!!

Here's the first part.

Imagine you and Veteran!Ghost on your first date. (It's important to note that he foregoes his mask/balaclava since you two are going out for dinner.)

You know what it's like to be overwhelmed when in the presence of so many civilians, so you take him out to a restaurant that is a small diner that only a few people know about.

You're the perfect gentleman, gently guiding Ghost to a booth with your hand resting on the small of his back. You pull out his chair and push it in when he's settled in said chair.

While you're both looking at the menu, Ghost can't help but glance up at you every now and then.

His eyes take in your face, his lips twitching upwards at the sight of your eyebrows furrowed as you decide what to order. Your skin is wrinkled, but not too wrinkled, and he loves your crow's feet the best. He loves how they're a symbol of your age, of how much you've laughed and smiled during your lifetime.

Ghost is hardened from his years in the military, scarred physically and emotionally from war. And yet here you are, a man who also has been in the military, for even longer than Ghost has, but you're still kind. You've come out of war and healed from it.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, glancing up at Ghost and seeing him staring at you. But you don't seem off-put by his staring, instead a smile works its way onto your face. "Do you know what you want to order?"

Ghost nods despite himself, glancing back down at the menu and choosing something random. "Yes, I know what I want." His words are laced with double meaning, but he then clears his throat. "Are you ready to order?"

You nod and wave the waitress over, both of you ordering your food. Once the waitress is gone, you look back at Ghost. You eye him for a bit before taking a leap of faith, reaching over the table and touching his hand lightly, giving him a choice to pull away or to embrace the gesture of affection.

Your smile widens when he intertwines your fingers together, holding your hand. "How are you feeling? This place isn't too loud for you, right?" you ask.

"It's not too loud," Ghost replies, his heart melting at how considerate you are of him. God, he doesn't know what he did to manage to get you to be on a date with him. "I want to know more about you, something no one in the support group knows."

You chuckle at that and tell him about your family. You two exchange stories of happy memories until the food comes and your conversation continues in between bites of food.

When the date comes to an end, you pay for the food, despite Ghost's protests.

"Nonsense, it's only fair that I should pay," you say after taking the bill and placing your card in the check-holder. You give the check-holder to the waitress, watching her leave to charge your card before focusing on Ghost again. "I'm the one who brought you to this place, so I'm the one who should pay."

"You're old-fashioned," Ghost teases, getting up from his seat once the waitress comes back with your card.

You huff in playful anger at his words, standing up as well once your card is back in your wallet. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

With one hand resting on the small of his back again, you lead Ghost outside and to your car. Just to continue your playful banter, you manage to open the passenger door for Ghost before he can.

"After you, my little prince," you say, a cheeky grin on your face.

Ghost's heart skips a beat at the petname, a blush working its way onto his face and neck. He can't deny the way the petname coming from you makes him want to melt.

He clears his throat and gets into the car, his heart fluttering when you close the door behind him.

The ride back to Ghost's flat is a short one, unfortunately. Ghost finds himself not wanting this night to end as he goes to the entrance of his apartment complex, you having walked him there.

He looks back at you as he stops short in front of the entrance, his mouth dry. "Would you come up with me to my flat if I asked?" he asks, his eyes on yours and his heart pounding in his chest.

A soft smile appears on your lips and you gently lift your hand, cupping his cheek. "As tempting as that sounds," you say, relishing the way Ghost leans into your touch, "I'm a gentleman. It'd be rude of me to go up to your flat on the first date."

With those words, you lean in, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek before pulling away and letting your hand fall. Ghost takes the hint, nodding and turning to walk inside the apartment complex.

"Old-fashioned," he playfully grumbles, the words floating to your ears via the slight breeze.

Your laugh in return is loud.

"My age is part of why you like me!" you call out to him just as he enters the apartment complex.

Ghost can't seem to be able to deny it.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)

[astrea16]

Piers and Pirates

So I've never watched One Piece before the live action, and I was curious about the anime but wasn’t sure I’d be into it so I started with Skypiea right away. The interesting thing I’ve noted about the structure of the story is that it reads a lot like a DnD campaign: one big journey divided into story arcs with their own atmospheres and challenges, and of course the iconic “you want to go now?” that turns into a ten-episode prep before the sky islands. I’ve briefly mentioned them before, but some of the encounters are so creative. I’m thinking for example of the Swamp Priest with the body control of a toddler who can’t cross his arms on his chest and forgets to say things out loud; or the old lady at sky customs who will let you pass because she can’t do anything to stop you but then sends an entire squadron after you. It’s a shame the anime is so poorly paced because the worldbuilding is genuinely phenomenal—but then again, it’s like watching a really long DnD campaign.

You can tell that Oda put a lot of research into his manga because every piece of information feels believable, whether it be Robin’s knowledge on ancient civilizations—the fact that Skypiea itself was inspired by the Mysterious Cities of Gold makes so much sense—or Nami’s navigation skills. It feels like you could sail in any direction and find an island with incredibly rich lore and characters. I’m just in awe of how unique each of them feels. Character creation is HARD, and yet no two are the same in Oda’s world. I could only achieve this level of depth with consistent roleplay, and he did it with all of his characters. They speak for decades of reading stories and consuming art blooming into one personal mindscape.

But the most remarkable one is Luffy. As opposed to the typical hero on a journey, Luffy doesn’t stand out because of a major personal growth or anything of the kind. toraheart put it perfectly in their analysis by calling him a catalyst: the story isn’t about Luffy, it’s about how he changes the world around him. How he inspires people to break free from their chains, how he stands for an ideology. More than an actor, Luffy is a symbol. And you can see that as clear as day in One Piece Fan Letter (2024) where he receives less than a minute of screen time, yet his presence resonates throughout the entire episode. The Marine who was inspired to save his brother in a moment of crisis, finding his strength in the boy whose own brother had died before his very eyes. The little girl looking up to Nami as a beacon of hope and rebellion, the same woman who found the courage to ask for help so that she could free herself from a decade of child exploitation at last. The teenager who works at the bookstore, listening to Brook’s music to get through her day. All of these were informed in some ways by the unstoppable force that is Monkey D. Luffy. He quite literally jumped out of a fire in that episode, and we know that epic imagery is one of the most evocative means of inspiration. If the boy wasn’t an anarchist, he’d be the face of revolutionary propaganda.

Speaking of anarchy, some people have called him a terrorist and I think I can stand with that. Luffy is kind, yes, but he is also selfish and stubborn. Despite his desire to help people achieve their dreams, he is entirely unconcerned with casualties when he’s fighting. He has only one goal in mind and will do anything to see it to the end. What compels me isn’t his beastly strength or his extraordinary abilities, it’s the fact that he wants everyone to do the same. To find their one piece, and to add it to the puzzle. It may not fit the first time around, but there will be people riding the same wave as you. And if someone stands in your way, well then screw that! Why do you think Luffy was so happy to have his face on a wanted poster? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not because it confirms his power. It’s because he knows that the world finally sees him. Luffy doesn’t really care about the treasure, he wants to become King of the Pirates so that he can have a place in a world that doesn’t want him.

To finish up on Fan Letter because it’s a masterpiece and I need everyone to acknowledge it, you really get this sense of carelessness from the Strawhats making their escape out of Sabaody. Yeah, everybody knows what they’re up to and they’re not exactly subtle about it (see: Luffy), but since when do they give a damn? The whole world is watching and they’re not even looking back, they’re just feeling the wind in their backs and staring straight ahead. Doesn’t that make you want to go on a grand adventure yourself?

By the way, if you liked the feel of the animation I highly recommend checking out the Gobelins channel on YouTube. It features several shorts by aspiring filmmakers in art school and they’re all a freaking delight to watch.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Gang with y/n who loves putting patches on her bags and cloths, like clothes and maybe even tjere clothes

Summary: The Gang w a Patch Obsessed!Reader Warnings: None Author's Note: None. PONYBOY thouroughly believes your patches make you look so adorable. He has never seen patches used the way you do, to decorate your clothes instead of feeling a little shameful because your clothes have holes in it. He believes that even a couple of soc girls are jealous of your patches because they're very fashionable. He lets you decorate as many things as you can, but in places he can easily remove them because he might need it removes for something. He loves the symbolic ones, because then only he and you know what it means. JOHNNY really likes when you relate him to patches. His favorite is when you put sunflowers on the insides of his jacket. He just thinks its so cute. He'll give you a matching one if you teach him how to put it on correctly. The stitching isn't as good as yours, but you can tell that he tried, and that's the beauty of it. He definetly puts patches on the lining of your coat secretly, but they're actually really well put together. SODAPOP thinks your patches are so adorable. He's able to get to know so much about you just by looking at you. He'll actually fall head over heels if you put a soda bottle on something of yours, he thinks it so cute even if the gang thinks its corny. He's always asking you to fix the DX logo on his shirt because he picks at it when hes bored and it falls off a number of times. For your birthday, he'll save up every paycheck and buy you custom patches of whatever you want. He's so excited to see what you'll do with them. STEVE thinks the patches are such a good hobby. He likes going through them and hearing the story behind each, he thinks it makes you two more connected. Although he tries not to change up his work shirts and pants, he lets you put a patch on everything else. He loves seeing you go wild with your hobbies and seeing you zoned in on something you like. He learns how to put patches on things but he's not very good (yet). You told him it would be a great gift if he put a patch on something of yours and now he's stressing about practicing. TWO-BIT thinks the patch collection is so cute. He collects beer bottle caps, and if he could hang those from his clothes without his mom getting pissed he would totally. He often zones out and just stares at one of your patches, examining the detail and intricate lines. He starts picking up patches from here and there too, returning them to you when you ask for some. He gets a little more and more interested in patches after a while. He loves when you put the beer bottle logos on his clothes, it makes him feel tuff (oh two bit i love you) DARRY thinks its just darling that you are intereseted in patches. He tries not to bother you about your hobbies too much but he loves watching you sew on some new patches, or organize them. He lets you put tiny patches all over his roofing clothes, it makes him feel close to you. His personal favorite is the Superman logo on his jeans over his hip. He won't partake in putting on patches for a long time because he can't sew without thinking about his mother, but he'll get there. DALLAS at first thought it was a bit of a safety concern. When you two started dating, he didn't want random guys knowing what you liked, so he made sure he was always there with you. He never lets you put a patch on anything he owns, except for his jacket (if your dating long enough). He lets you put on one patch on his jacket over the sleeve, and he chose the patch. He decided on the skull and is so proud of himself (and you) because it looks so good. He secretly hinted that you get a matching one on a sleeve, but he's too shy to say it out loud.

[armystrong980]

Help Him

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mild Cursing

Word Count: 9,234 😬

A/N: This is my first Bucky Barnes fanfic. Please go easy on me! I would love to know how all of you liked the story. Enjoy, and thank you for reading!

    Steve called me to the conference room of the Avengers Compound. He called sounding pretty serious and asked to see him immediately. With no hesitation I made my way over. At first glance I watched him pace up and down the room with his head down and his hands on his hips. "Shit, this can't be good." Steve caught a glance at me. He seems lost in his head but he motioned me to come in anyways. 

"Thank you for coming so quickly." He paused, "There's something you need to know before I start." Steve hands me a folder with a worried look on his face. "This mission is going to be very dangerous. I need my best Avenger and all I could do was come to you." He sighs.

 I take the folder from him confidently. "Thank you for reaching out to me. You could've chosen Nat or Wanda." "I don't want to make it sound like you have to do this but I know I can always count on you. That's why I called." It's true. I had saved Cap's ass more times than I should've.

As I open the mission folder with a shaky breath, it revealed a man in cryo with a HYDRA symbol next to it. You read the name out loud, "James Buchanan Barnes?"

He nods as he looks me in the eyes. "I need to save him." I've heard this name before but couldn't quite put a finger on it. "May I ask who he is?" Steve crosses his arms loosely and looks down slightly biting his inner cheek. "He's my best friend, family, I thought he was dead all these years." 

I look at the information on the file that shows James' birthday. March 10, 1917. It made me think. "Smithsonian." I blurted out. He looks up at me with a knowing look in his eyes. "I seen you and him together in pictures at the Smithsonian. All this time he was under HYDRA's control?" Steve nods uncrossing his arms.

I had become best friends with Steve ever since he had gotten out of the ice. I would do anything for him. "I'll help you." It was as if weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Are you sure?" "Steve I'm positive. Let's go bring your friend home." All he could do in that moment was hug me. I hugged him back and heard him whisper in my ear thank you.  

Steve’s shoulders seemed to drop a little as he released the embrace. He took a deep breath, clearly relieved, and looked at me with renewed determination. "I can't tell you how much this means to me. I know this isn't going to be easy, but I trust you completely."

I nodded, flipping through the rest of the folder. The file contained blueprints of the facility where James Buchanan Barnes, also known as Bucky, was being held, along with security details and a rough schedule of guard rotations. It looked like a high-security compound, which meant we’d need a solid plan to get in and out without drawing too much attention.

"Have you got a specific plan or are we coming up with something on the fly?" I asked, trying to gauge how much preparation Steve had already done.

"I’ve got a few ideas," Steve said, his tone shifting to a more tactical one. "But I was hoping we could brainstorm together. We’ll need to be quick and efficient—any misstep could jeopardize the mission."

We spent the next few hours going over the details, mapping out the security measures, and figuring out the best approach. We decided to use a combination of stealth and quick strikes to neutralize the guards and avoid detection. Steve would take point, and I’d cover our rear and handle any unexpected complications.

As we wrapped up the planning, Steve gave me a serious look. "We’re not just rescuing a friend here. Bucky’s been through a lot. He’s probably been brainwashed and tortured. We’ll need to be prepared for anything."

"Understood," I said, my resolve firm. "We’ll get him out of there. We just need to stick to the plan and stay focused."

Steve clapped me on the shoulder, a small, appreciative smile tugging at his lips. "I knew I could count on you."

With our plan set, we gathered our gear and prepared to head out. As we left the conference room, I couldn’t help but think about the gravity of the mission ahead. This wasn’t just about rescuing someone; it was about saving a part of Steve’s past and, hopefully, helping a friend reclaim his future.

We set off towards the compound, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The stakes were high, but with Steve by my side and the mission clear in our minds, I knew we had a fighting chance.

The operation went off almost flawlessly. With Steve’s meticulous planning and our teamwork, we managed to infiltrate the compound, disable the security systems, and reach Bucky’s cryo-chamber without incident. As we approached the chamber, I could see Steve’s anxiety transform into a mix of hope and determination.

Bucky was unconscious, strapped inside the chamber. His face was a haunting reminder of the time lost and the struggles endured. Steve’s hands shook slightly as he worked to deactivate the cryo-system. The chamber hissed open, and Bucky’s breathing seemed to steady, though he remained unresponsive.

“Is he going to be okay?” I asked, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve glanced at me, his face etched with concern. “He will be. He has to be.”

With the cryo-chamber open, we carefully lifted Bucky out and placed him on a stretcher. Steve’s eyes never left his friend, a mixture of relief and worry playing across his features. We transported Bucky back to the Avengers Compound, where medical personnel were on standby.

The next few days were a blur of medical assessments and treatments. Bucky was slowly waking from his long period of cryo-sleep, but the process of reorienting him to reality was fraught with challenges. He was disoriented, struggling to piece together his fragmented memories.

During this time, I found myself spending more and more time with him. I was assigned to monitor his recovery, help him adjust, and provide emotional support. As I sat by his bedside, talking to him, I saw glimpses of the person he once was—charming, kind, and fiercely loyal.

One evening, after Bucky had shown some signs of recognition and began to engage in conversation, he looked at me with a curious expression. “You were there at the compound. I remember you… but I’m having trouble placing you.”

I offered him a reassuring smile. “I’m Y/N. I helped rescue you and bring you home. Steve’s been really worried about you.”

Bucky’s gaze softened. “Steve... I remember him. We’ve been through a lot together. I owe him everything.”

“And you owe me nothing,” I said with a chuckle. “I’m just glad we could help.”

As Bucky continued to regain his strength and clarity, our interactions became more frequent. We shared stories, laughed over old memories, and supported each other through the tough moments. Bucky’s sense of humor and resilience were contagious, and I found myself drawn to him in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

One evening, as the sun set and cast a warm glow over the compound, Bucky and I took a walk through the garden. The tranquility of the space was a stark contrast to the intensity of our recent experiences.

“You’ve been incredibly patient with me,” Bucky said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” I replied, glancing at him with a shy smile. “It’s been my pleasure to help you, and to get to know you better.”

Bucky’s eyes met mine, and there was a moment of unspoken understanding between us. The bond we’d developed was more than just friendship—it was something deeper and more profound.

In the days that followed, as Bucky continued to heal and adjust to his new reality, our relationship grew stronger. We spent time together away from the compound, exploring the city and enjoying each other’s company. It was clear that our connection was more than just a fleeting attraction; it was something that resonated deeply within both of us.

One night, under the stars, Bucky took my hand in his and looked at me with a mix of vulnerability and affection. “I never thought I’d find someone who could understand me like you do. You’ve been my anchor in all of this chaos.”

I squeezed his hand, feeling a rush of emotions. “And you’ve been mine. I’ve never felt this way before, but I know that what we have is real.”

Bucky leaned in, his gaze lingering on my lips before closing the distance between us. The kiss was tender and filled with a deep sense of connection. It was as if all the pain and uncertainty of the past had melted away, leaving only the pure, unspoken promise of a shared future.

As we pulled away, Bucky’s eyes were filled with warmth and hope. “I want to build a new future, with you. Whatever it takes.”

I smiled, my heart full. “I want that too.”

From that moment on, Bucky and I began to forge a new path together. We faced the challenges of his recovery and the complexities of our evolving relationship with courage and optimism. Through it all, our love grew stronger, transforming from a bond forged in the fires of adversity into a lasting partnership filled with hope and possibility.

And so, with the Avengers Compound as our backdrop, we embraced the journey ahead—one where we were no longer just allies but partners in every sense of the word, ready to face the future together.

[genshin-obsessed]

Bound to You | Blade x Reader

Howdy! So, I don't have a real reason for writing this, other than I felt like it. I've been heavily debating doing more fantasy type fics, but I just don't have a proper idea. This might just help me a little! I think this should have 3 parts just to finish up the story, so I may most likely add two more to this. Word count: 4516 Extras: Fantasy AU

Blade's red orange eyes practically glared at you as you flipped through the third book in your possession. He watched the frantic look in your eyes only get worse as this book was yet another dead end. The previously darkened room was illuminated by the large sigil Blade was sitting on. It was bright yellow, with every symbol pulsating with enough power to keep Blade prisoner. Golden cuffs with long, ghost-like chains held onto his wrists, refraining him from leaving the sigil that he'd been summoned with.

"Could you at least let me go?" He asked, his tone of voice indicating his clear frustration. His head was propped up on his closed fist, while his elbow rested on his knee. It had been so long, at this point, he was just bored.

"No!" You yelled as you looked over at him with a frown. "You've been doing nothing but yelling at me and hurling insults." Blade sat up a little, that fighting fire lit within him once more.

"Oh? What the hell else am I supposed to say? Only an idiot confuses a binding spell for a summoning one." Your frown only deepened at his sarcastic words as you placed a hand on your hip.

"It was an accident! It was really just a test to see if it was even going to work!" You argued, but it only irritated the demon before you.

"Who reads an incantation out loud as a test? You really are an idiot." He scoffed, making you groan out loud. For the last hour and a half, he'd done nothing but call you dumb and stupid for what you did. Which was fair. You certainly didn't mean to bind a demon of his worth to you, you just wanted to practice summoning a demon for future fights! However, you were so engrossed in reading, you accidentally read aloud the incantation... which wasn't even the right one, you came to find out. As for the sigil… well, you just decided to set it up to see how much work it would require. You did intend to use it but at a later date since none of the items were perishables.

"Hey, I'm still really new at this mage thing, ok?"

"You're new to using magic, but not new to reading right? It literally states on the page before that it's meant to bind demons to your own soul. You know, even we don't use spells like that." He explained as he adjusted his legs that were beginning to get sore.

"What? But don't demons make that whole pact binding thing?" He rolled his eyes, as if he wasn't surprised that you would even ask such a question.

"No. We create contracts that are called pacts. Both parties list their terms and conditions and once those terms are fulfilled, the pact comes to an end. The connection between demon and mortal is held by the signed contract, which is why they're kept safe and hidden. As you know- or at least I hope you know- the easiest way to break a contract with a demon is to destroy the actual tome it's written on. Soul binding is nearly unbreakable. It actually binds the souls together and there are no conditions required for it. There is no tome to break and it's an extremely powerful spell that’s almost forbidden." He explained, doing his best to stay calm since he had been furious the entire night and it was exhausting.

With every word that spilled from his lips, you realized just how grave your situation was. You... really didn't mean to do this. You wanted to practice summoning a demon which is why you set up the circle exactly as stated in the old grimoire you found. Blade had a point... the instructions and sigil were on one page but the page before had all the warnings including the title. Somehow when you were flipping through the book, you skipped over that. Mainly because the next page explained which color candles to use for what demon. So, you figured it was just a regular old summoning spell.

"There... is a way to break it, right?" You asked, your eyes flickering to the demon.

"Of course there's a way to break it. Every spell can be broken, but the more powerful the spell, the more limitations appear. This particular spell is avoided by many precisely because of how difficult it is to break it. Even your death wouldn't break it, you'd just be resurrected because you're attached to my soul. And vice versa."

"Aren't you already dead?" Blade's eyes widened at the audacity you had to ask the dumbest question he'd ever heard in the centuries he'd been alive.

"Are you serious? No, demons aren't dead, in fact, we can't die permanently. We just get resurrected in hell, which is probably where you're going after this dumbass stunt." Your eyes widened at his words, and you couldn't help the words just escaping your lips.

"Does that mean I'm stuck with you for eternity?"

"No. I'm stuck with you for eternity." Blade corrected, with an irritated smile ghosting his lips as he looked away, shaking his head in disappointment. He was far from the most powerful demon in the hellish realms, but he was up there and to be stuck to such a weak mage was practically insulting. Not to mention your lack of understanding in apparently everything.

Though… you did succeed in the spell which felt like the biggest shot of luck ever; but spells like this didn’t ride on luck. 

"Why would anyone have a soul binding spell for demons?" You asked with a pout, your eyes glancing at the torn, leathery binding of the grimoire you'd used earlier.

"It's a grimoire right, and not a scroll?” Grimoires, as opposed to single use spell scrolls, were written by high level magic users. Mages- and often witches- usually created their own. There were a multitude of reasons from convenience to secrecy, if they’re confident enough, they could create their own spells. “Chances are whoever owned that grimoire was probably close enough with a demon to bind their souls together. It's an easy way to gain immortality.” Blade replied, his own red-orange eyes flickering to the grimoire that sat on the small pedestal.

"Isn't using magic to make yourself immortal punishable by an eternity in the prison of torment?" You questioned as you walked over and grabbed the grimoire.

"Only if you're found out." Blade answered, leaning back on his hands and staring up at your ceiling. "It's not easy to recognize a bound soul when they're both powerful. Our magic will intertwine and you can use my own soul energy for yourself. To those who aren't like the High Mages, you'll just look like a strong magic user."

You opened the grimoire, walking back over to Blade who looked at you. Kneeling beside the sigil, you placed the grimoire in between you two and slowly moved through the pages.

"Honestly, it just has simple spells. Here's one to make plants grow faster, then there's a minor healing spell, one to help wash dishes, then the spell I used to summon you, but then there's this orb spell which preserves whatever you put inside of it, this one helps dig tunnels- I mean this is a total beginner friendly grimoire." You said as you looked up at him. However, Blade was still staring down at the grimoire.

"Give it here, I wanna look at it."

"Sure." You slid the grimoire into the circle allowing Blade to grab it, picking it up and flipping through the pages. He was silent for a moment as he read through each of them before turning the book back to you.

"I knew it. It's been modified." It was the spell to create a preservation orb.

"How do you know?" You asked, tilting your head a bit as your eyes glanced over the text. Nothing looked weird.

"Magic is second nature to us. I know this spell and the original's orb lasts at most three days before it expires. This one doesn't- it's a permanent orb."

"Ok, so they improved upon it? What's the issue?" You countered as Blade placed the book back in his lap. “Didn’t you just say magic users can make their own spells?”

"There's a bunch of beginner friendly spells, then a nearly impossible spell to cast and a modified preservation orb spell? Nothing seems out of the ordinary? Who did this book belong to?"

"I don't know, I found it in a ruined house." You said with a shrug, making Blade's eyes widen.

"You just picked up some random person's grimoire and started to play with it?"

"Well, I wasn't worried because it had a bunch of beginner friendly spells and it let me touch it. So, I just thought it was a grimoire made for newbies like me!" Why wasn't Blade surprised you would do something like that?

"Well, for one, it didn’t react negatively with you because it's made for us. Whoever created this was obviously a magic user- that's you... somehow. And it's meant to help bind a demon's soul, which is me. I don't think the author expected anyone to find it, though it’ll blast anyone else who tries." The lack of hesitation in his words made you flinch a little.

"So, other than immortality, why would someone bind their soul to a demon?" You asked, making Blade sigh as he fell in thought. That piqued his curiosity as well, why would someone go to these lengths and not just make a contract?

"I don't know. Power, control, the ability to traverse the hells, maybe even love? Though, the weird orb situation is the most confusing. Whatever this person was doing, they needed a preservation orb that lasted... forever."

"Think if we find the orb, we'll know more?"

"Probably, but you still need to let me out of here." Blade said, referring to the sigil he was sitting on. A frown crossed your lips and you were silent for a moment. You may not have meant to summon him, but you could tell he was a powerful demon. You needed one in combat because you weren't the best fighter and were still a novice. However, you knew he'd leave the first chance he got and... you didn't want that.

Blade stared at you before reaching forward, still within the boundaries of the sigil, and snapped in front of your face. It was enough to pull you out of your thoughts.

"Hello? Let me out."

"What if you run away?" You asked in a small voice, your tone wavering as if you weren't sure whether those words should escape your lips or not.

"Go where? You'll know exactly where I am 24/7, which is one of the perks of soul binding. I can't go anywhere without you knowing. Not only that, as the creator of the bond and me being a demon, you have some level of control over me."

So, he'd stay if you commanded him to? Not only that, but he'd protect you in battle if you commanded him? So far, this soul binding thing didn't seem so bad. You couldn't die, this powerful demon was gonna be with you all the time, and he would do whatever you asked. You weren't entirely sure of your specialization... but conjuration didn't seem so bad with him.

"Ok." You replied, sitting on your legs and touching the edge of the symbol with both palms. According to the book, it was quite easy to make it go away- which was the opposite of setting it up and drawing it. The symbol's bright light began to dim, little by little before it dissipated completely.

Blade inhaled sharply, exhaling slowly and he stood up. The ghostly chains that held him to the sigil were gone, but the cuffs remained on his wrists. He raised his arm to get a better look at it. There were symbols on the cuffs themselves, which he recognized as protection spells. Multiple of them.

For him or for you?

His red orange eyes flickered to you before he roughly reached out and grabbed your throat. A scream escaped your lips as he yanked you forward, giving you little time to fight back. You felt his sharp nails digging into the sides of your neck as he squeezed tightly. His grip was strong, cutting off your breathing in seconds. Against his brute strength, you could do nothing except attempt to pry his hand off. 

"Th-the hell?!" You choked out, weakly looking up at him. However, he released you as quickly as he grabbed you, staring down at his cuffs again. You instantly took a step back, gaining distance from him. After a brief coughing fit, you spoke up. "What was that for?!"

"It's not for you..." he mumbled, entranced by the spell writing on his cuffs. He didn’t even seem the least worried about your current state as he began to examine the cuffs once more. Why would a demon get a protection spell? Not one, but multiple.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, making him look over at you. He held his arm up, the cuff glowing a dim gold. You could feel the power radiating off of the bands, even making you look away for a moment. He was really stuck, there was no way he could ever break out of those.

"There are protection spells on this thing, but they aren't for you. In fact, I could've killed you right there, which is bizarre. I've never heard of a mage putting a protection spell on a demon. Especially in this situation, where it would be more beneficial for you to have safety from me."

Usually, demons had no reason to harm or kill those they made contracts with. The end goal was to acquire the soul, which could easily be done through granting their wishes. But soul binding was different, there were no end goals. At the end of the day, Blade owed you nothing, not even his mercy.

"So, you choke me to find out?" You yelled, glaring at him a little. Your heart was still pounding in your chest and you weren’t sure if you could trust him considering he just admitted to being able to kill you. Even if you wouldn’t stay dead for long, you didn’t want to die! 

"If I told you, you would've expected it. Whatever spell is meant to protect you, wouldn't kick in if you don't truly believe I'm going to harm you. So, I didn't say anything. But I released you by choice, nothing actually stopped me. Meaning... this mage trusted the demon they bonded with. I'm starting to think it was a friends or lovers situation." You rubbed your throat while he spoke, turning away from him a little.

"Can demons even be trusted?"

"Only as far as their contracts are concerned. No demon will ever break a contract. Otherwise, not really." Well, at least he was honest.

Eventually, Blade walked closer to you, stopping only a couple feet away. Your hand briefly flew up to your neck but he made no sudden movements. Instead, holding his hand out, he met your gaze with his own. This time, you saw no anger or hatred, which brought an inkling of comfort to your mind. 

"I am Blade. For the time being, I will be your personal demon. You may use my services as you wish, and I will do my best to protect you from any harm. I only ask that in return you help me break this soul bond."

Your eyes slowly fell to the outstretched hand as his words rang in your ears. You didn't expect him to say something like that, but at the same time, your soul bond was a type of contract, right? So, he was just abiding by it.

Hesitantly, you reached out and grabbed his hand, your fingers tightening around it. Raising your eyes, you nodded to his terms.

"Ok. I will help you break the bond. Thank you for serving me." Yet, the words felt like sandpaper in your mouth. You weren’t entirely certain why, but you knew your words weren’t genuine.

Once that was done and over with, Blade retracted his hand and walked back to the grimoire. His eyes slid across the old pages, searching for any clue. As far as he was concerned, he could only sense a weak protection spell on it, nothing else. That meant the pages hadn’t been altered with magic. 

“Where did you find this? We should go back there to see if we find any more clues.” With little hesitation, you found yourself nodding to his words.

“Sure, but it’s a bit of a trek. I found it on a trip I just recently went on.” You explained as he walked to your desk and grabbed your bag, putting the grimoire inside of it.

“Doesn’t matter to me. By the way, until we figure out who made this book, try not to use it. Even if the spells are simple, they’re not meant for you. Best to leave them alone.” Understanding what he meant, you agreed. That book clearly had a purpose which you didn’t know of. Trying to use it could cause issues like with Blade. The last thing you wanted to do was cause more problems that you didn’t even know how to solve. 

“I’ll need to get another grimoire then.” You said with a sigh. Those things didn’t come cheap and you were still a novice mage. Being able to buy one… well, it was gonna take a while.

“Why bother? Don’t you have scrolls or something?” Blade asked, looking over at you.

“Scrolls aren’t as informative as grimoires. Not to mention they take up a lot of space and some vanish once the spell is cast.” You replied with a slight sigh as you began to clean up your mess.

Blade’s emotionless eyes watched you for a moment before he began to help. For any magic user, having their very own grimoire was proof of their abilities. Not only were they great sources of power and knowledge, if a mage ever managed to climb to greatness, their grimoires would get preserved in the Library of Novis, which was the biggest library the entire region, said to contain every single spell known to man.

Novice grimoires were often given to young students just beginning their journey into the arcane, but were usually loans and needed to be returned. Blade couldn’t begin to understand why you didn’t have one. There were plenty of grimoires handed down within families for young mages, yet not only did you not have one, but you chose that dingy book that clearly had its own ulterior motives.

A bit pathetic… but admirable. Though the spell you casted was powerful and unstable, you did it. No destruction came to you, this small space, or him. In fact, Blade felt great, technically speaking. The sigil also subdued his powers and kept him there and that’s something he expected from a high level mage.

Blade stopped for a moment and looked at you as you kept picking up the candles you’d laid out. The space around you two was dark, but Blade could make out the rundown walls and floorboards with his sharp eyes. The room was barren except for a small desk on the side, an old looking bed on the other, and what seemed to be a dresser beside the bed. The scent of dust lingered in the air and tickled his nose- it was almost enough to give him allergies. Turning his head, he saw two training dummies against the wall behind him, both covered in a thick layer of dust with cobwebs to boot.

Looking back at you, he noted a frown on your face which was expected. But with your newly created bond… he also felt your resolve. In fact, if he focused hard enough, he felt your desperation to be a great Mage.

An Archmage. Like the legendary celestial, Alessia. Noting that you were distracted, Blade decided this was the best time to peek inside your mind. Inhaling softly, the demon closed his eyes and focused on you. Your presence was heavy in his mind and heart.

He could feel your breathing, gentle and soft. Your heartbeat was strong, yet hastened. He felt your muscles moving as you picked up each item and threw it into a nearby box. Every curl of your fingers made his own tingle. Soul binding was scary, even he wouldn’t attempt something so stupid. But, he had to admit- it was fascinating to be here like this with you. You felt like an extension of himself yet he couldn’t control you.

Pushing past the physical aspects, he delved into your mind. Other than you scolding yourself over and over for making this mistake, he felt that resolve again. To be better, to be stronger, to be more mindful. There was a lingering sadness that he couldn’t decipher. He wanted to push past it, to see what you were thinking but stopped himself.

A gasp escaped his lips as his eyes shot open, feeling the sensation fade away. His eyes landed on you once more, who hadn’t realized what had just occurred. He could just peak into your mind like that? You couldn’t ever hide a secret from him. Yet, the idea of pushing through your defenses to peer into your mind felt unfair. You wouldn’t appreciate that, right? Being you and all.

There is one thing he wanted to hear you say.

“Hey, (y/n).” He called, making you look over at him, your hand abruptly stopping. It felt weird hearing him say your name and not call you an idiot or something.

“What?”

“Are you allied with a college? For your magical training, I mean.” At his words, you shook your head.

“If I was, I wouldn’t have summoned you the way I did. I actually can’t afford attending a college right now. I wasn’t born with the gift so I never prepared. Now, I’m so much worse off because of it that I can’t even attend a college if I wanted to. I’d just humiliate myself and make life harder.” Your words weren’t burdened with sorrow or anger, as if you were just stating pure fact. Even in his own heart, he didn’t feel any particular emotion stir. What? You just internalized your failure and called it a day? This was the worst way to learn magic in his expert opinion.

Plenty of thoughts filled Blade’s mind. With how dumb you were, it would be so easy to just manipulate you to do what he wanted. Hiding his emotions from you was an easy job, it’s not like you even knew you could look into his mind. Not only that, but you were so naive and clearly alone. But, that weird resolve of yours made him waver. You may have thought you were a failure, but you didn’t just live with it. You were still trying to learn and do better. He wasn’t sure if he was pitying you or not, but another thought flashed in his mind. One that seemed to yield a better outcome than just manipulating you. Standing up, he let out a sigh as he gestured for you to approach him.

“Come here.”

“Why?” You asked as you dropped the items in your hand into the box and walked over. Grabbing your shoulder, Blade positioned you in front of him with your back toward him. “What?”

“Like this.” Intending to put those neglected training dummies to use, he pushed one of your arms out straight, and  your palm to one of them. Reaching out, he positioned your hand in a more relaxed form. Using his foot, he pushed your feet a short distance apart and forced you to bend your knees a little. “Make sure you’re in a steady stance or you’ll fall over. From here, push your energy into your fingertips. Don’t force it, or it’ll explode.”

Deciding not to question him, you breathed and followed his instructions. It wasn’t necessarily easy to understand what he meant by energy, but you tried it anyway. For a moment, you felt a warmth at your fingertips. It was the slightest sensation that you could’ve almost missed.

“It tingles.”

“Good. It’s easy to aim since you’re pointing your hand. Be careful and try not to aim this attack recklessly. Also try to avoid heads.” He pushed your hand downward a little so you weren’t pointing at the training dummy’s head. “Once it feels like a good build up, release the energy. Literally, think in your mind that you’re letting it go.”

Giving it a moment to build up some more of that energy, you did as he said. You let go of the energy. Suddenly, a blast escaped your hand and fired straight at the dummy, hitting it right in the chest. You were knocked back a little too, but Blade kept you steady.

“What the- what was that!?”

“A blast. Good.” The demon commented as he stepped away, inspecting the dummy. Because it was a training dummy, it wasn’t destroyed but Blade could see the point of impact. That would certainly kill… as long as you didn’t fly away.

“How did you know I couldn’t do that?” You inquired, your eyes flickering to him. Even now, you felt the tingling at the tips of your fingers. It was that easy?

“Because that’s one of my attacks. You definitely don’t know it.” He replied, walking past you to finish up your attempt to clean up. “But make sure to plant your feet firmly or you’ll fall over like you almost did just now.”

He… taught you a personal spell? After all that name calling and stuff, he was actually willing to help you? That was kinda nice of him. You watched as he quickly cleaned up with his magic. He made it look so easy, flicking his fingers and making all the excess items fly into the box you’d used earlier. You hadn’t even figured that out, no wonder he kept judging you. He wasn’t entirely wrong, you were as weak as they came and he was the opposite. He grabbed the bag with the grimoire, making sure the book was secure.

This was the demon you were expected to just let go? He was powerful, smart, and handsome. You knew it was the right thing to do, but at the same time this was a good chance. A good opportunity to learn magic and have a powerful companion at your side.

“Stop staring, idiot.” He said as he looked back at you, holding the bag out to you. “Come on, we need to get going.”

“Right, thanks for the help.” You said as you took the bag from him, slinging it around your shoulder.

“Just keep your word and I’ll consider it even.” 

[kallie-den]

Lifestyle Takeover Ch. 3

Now that Vivienne has fallen under Mel's sway, she instructs Emma to take the high-powered CEO for a very particular makeover...

This is a commission from Neana, and a sequel to Lifestyle Journalism! Previous chapters can be found under the same tag

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I  write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)

—

At first, Vivienne was entirely quiet and calm. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so utterly at peace with herself. Normally, her entire life felt like a battle. There were endless pressures, buzzing around her like flies. Not now. She was perfectly still. Perfectly relaxed. Vivienne was conscious of nothing but a gentle, rhythmic purr she could feel throughout her entire body. It seemed to be coming from beneath her.

Then came a noise so loud, urgent, and uncomfortably familiar, it pierced through her calm and dragged Vivienne unwillingly back to awareness.

It took her a long moment to remember that the sound was her phone ringing.

The ringing ceased, but it was too late. Vivienne blearily opened her eyes and, after the blurry haze resolved into a set of distinct images, realized she was sitting in the back of a limo. Somehow, at first, it didn’t occur to Vivienne to question that. It simply seemed right.

“Oh look! She’s, like, waking up.”

“So she is. Welcome back, sleepyhead.”

Vivienne looked up and saw Melanie Adams sitting opposite her. She blinked. She looked to one side and saw Emma sitting next to her, in all her pink, bimbo glory. She blinked again, then blushed.

Emma. It was really her. It hadn’t all been a dream.

Vivienne’s embarrassingly eager adoration for the bimbo hadn’t been diminished by their meeting. If anything, she was more starstruck than ever. The CEO sat up straight and tried to hide her blush by rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“I apologize,” she said blearily, hoping to recapture a little dignity. “I must have… well, I suppose I’ve been putting in some long hours lately.”

“I understand,” Mel replied, offering a sympathetic smile.

Vivienne nodded gratefully, then looked out of the window. She frowned as the realities of the situation began to set in.

“Where are we going?” she asked. She had no memory of getting in a car or agreeing to anything.

“We’re going shopping!” Emma squealed gleefully. “We’re gonna get you, like, a whole bunch of new outfits.”

“That’s right,” Mel added, a strange look in her eyes. “You remember, don’t you?”

Suddenly, she did. As Mel spoke, the memory was lifted out of the heavy fog that seemed to surround Vivienne’s mind. Remembering that, though, only prompted more questions.

“Right,” she agreed slowly. “But… why?”

Mel’s smile was beginning to look faintly condescending. “We were talking about how stressed and overworked you are. About how you need to make some changes and learn to relax. And since we’re friends, we decided I’d help you out by taking you shopping. Remember?”

Vivienne nodded. It was all coming back to her now, and it was just as Mel said. “Right,” she repeated, rubbing her head. “Goodness. I really must be tired.”

“Don’t worry,” Mel told her. “We can fix that.”

As they spoke, another memory was coming back to Vivienne. This one, unprompted, was far less concrete. It was a mere impression, accompanied by a faint, inexplicable sense of loss. Guided by it, Vivienne found herself reaching up toward the pocket in which she normally wore her pocket watch.

It was gone.

“Looking for this?” Mel asked.

Vivienne looked up and, to her shock, saw that Mel was holding her most prized possession, the very symbol of her prowess as a mind controller, dangling between her fingers.

Vivienne frowned deeply. Mel having it seemed right, somehow, but she couldn’t remember why. That troubled her.

“Why do you have that?” she asked warily. Perhaps something was afoot. Some kind of plot to entrap her and weaken her mind.

“Don’t you remember?” Mel replied. “Whoever’s holding this is in charge. That’s how it works, isn’t it? And since I’m the one who’s taking you out shopping, I’m in charge. That means I hold the pocket watch. Isn’t that right?”

“Oh.” Vivienne steadily relaxed. “Right.”

It was all coming back to her now.

“I can’t believe I forgot my own rules like that,” she apologized again. “I just can’t seem to get my head off my pillow today.”

Mel threw a grin at Emma. Her pet bimbo was giggling helplessly. Vivienne couldn’t imagine at what.

“That’s perfectly OK,” Mel assured her. “Just as long as you’re clear on how this all works.” She gestured to the pocket watch again.

“Of course,” Vivienne promised. “You’ve got the watch. You’re in charge.”

Before Vivienne could figure out why that was bothering her so much, her phone started ringing again. Reflexively, Vivienne slipped the phone out of her pocket and made to answer it.

“Stop,” Mel instructed sharply.

Vivienne froze. She flashed Mel a dissatisfied look.

“Don’t answer it,” Mel told her. “You’re not doing any work today. This shopping trip is all about relaxing and having fun with a makeover. No business.”

Vivienne couldn’t help but feel uneasy with that. Her phone was still ringing. She looked down at the caller ID. It was work, of course. Her CFO was calling.

“It could be important,” she protested.

“They can manage without you for one day,” Mel retorted. “But you? You desperately need to blow off some steam, Vivienne. Don’t answer.”

For a long moment, Vivienne languished in indecision. It was true that, probably, her people could cope. Vivienne couldn’t imagine that anything disastrous was happening. But equally, as CEO, her sign-off was needed on all kinds of decisions, and her leadership style ensured that none of her underlings would be willing to move forward on anything without her. By not taking this phone call, Vivienne was likely causing her company a serious headache. It was in opposition to her entire long-held personal and professional ethos.

But Mel had the pocket watch. She was in charge. That was the rule.

“Fine,” Vivienne acceded. She declined the call.

Listening to Mel felt strange. It didn’t sit quite right with Vivienne. After all, Mel was her rival. Vivienne despised what she represented. She was still determined to hypnotize Mel and break her to her will - eventually. But for now, Vivienne had to follow the rules. As scrambled as her memory was, she could at least remember that much.

But it was more than just that. Vivienne was surprised to find that she was taking a strange comfort in following Mel’s orders. It was a novel experience, she supposed. A welcome break from having to decide everything for herself. She glanced across at Emma, giggling happily again. Was this how she felt all the time? Every day? Vivienne wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that she felt much, much more envy than she did contempt.

Maybe her plans could afford to take a back seat. Maybe letting Mel take the lead for just one day wasn’t so bad.

“Wow!” Emma exclaimed at Mel through her giggles. “Oh my god, that thing, like, totally worked, huh?”

Mel couldn’t suppress a grin of her own as she looked back at her girlfriend. “It really did.”

“What did?” Vivienne asked irritably. Mel was in charge, yes, but that didn’t mean Vivienne liked being talked around.

“Nothing,” Mel swiftly assured her. She glanced at the cell phone Vivienne was still holding. “Actually, Vivienne, you should turn that off before it rings again.”

Vivienne pulled a face. The thought of being out of touch filled her with anxiety. She’d already missed half a dozen calls. There was something exciting about it too, though. Like she was a child again, skipping class.

Not that how she felt really mattered. Not while Mel had the pocket watch.

“Very well,” she agreed. Vivienne switched her phone off and tucked it back in her pocket.

“Good.” Mel’s grin widened. “Look, we’re here.”

Right on cue, the limo pulled over to park. Looking out the window, Vivienne could see that they had driven to the city’s high-end shopping district. The kind of place only elite hypnogarchs and their most favored servants could afford to shop. Vivienne had been there once or twice, although mostly she relied on her brainwashed assistants to do her shopping for her. She simply didn’t have the time.

As they stepped out of the car, Mel checked her own phone before turning to Emma and Vivienne. “I hate to bring down the mood, but it looks like I actually have a couple of calls I need to take,” she said. “My mothers. Work stuff. Emma, why don’t you take Vivienne around?”

“Oh-em-gee!” Emma squealed, while Vivienne blinked in surprise. “Really? I can pick out her stuff?”

“Of course,” Mel replied indulgently. “It’ll be a nice treat - for both of you. Besides, I’m sure Vivienne is just dying for the two of you to get a little one-on-one time.”

Vivienne’s heart skipped a beat. The way Mel said that was alarming. It was almost as if she knew. But no. No, that was impossible.

“Well, yes, I’m sure it’ll be lovely to… to get to know one another,” Vivienne replied lamely, fighting to keep her face neutral. Emma giggled some more.

“Yeah!” the bimbo exclaimed. Without warning, she locked arms with Vivienne. “We’ll be, like, besties in no time.”

Vivienne could have fainted from sheer, starstruck joy.

“Oh, before you get going,” Mel added, “Emma, you’d better take this.”

A distinct shiver raced down Vivienne’s spine as she watched Mel hand Vivienne’s pocket watch over to Emma.

Emma was in charge now.

Vivienne could certainly think of worse things than that. It was like a fantasy come to life.

“Come on!” Emma cried out, already tugging at Vivienne’s arm. “Let’s get going! We’ve got soooo much shopping to do.”

It was like being caught in a whirlwind. Pocket watch and rules notwithstanding, Vivienne was powerless to keep herself from being unceremoniously dragged around the shopping district. Emma’s giddy, gleeful, irrepressible energy was impossible to resist. Vivienne found herself breathing hard as Emma pulled her at a jog from one store to the next, from aisle to aisle, gushing over different items of clothing. Suddenly, she had a new thing to envy Emma for: her fitness. Thanks to all that exercise, Emma seemed to have endless breath to spare for gushing over different clothes and how they might look on Vivienne. It was all Vivienne could do to nod agreeably and try to keep her head from spinning.

But there was one thing she couldn’t help noticing: all the clothes Emma insisted on looking at and buying were pink.

“I… I’m just not sure this is really my color,” Vivienne offered diplomatically, as Emma held something up against her body for inspection. She truly hated disagreeing with her idol, but she felt she had to say something.

“Yes, it is!” Emma replied, somewhat indignantly, and with such force Vivienne couldn’t bring herself to argue back. “Pink is the best. It’s everyone’s color. Duh.”

With the matter settled, Emma marched Vivienne over to the cashier to pay for a set of new sports bras and a couple of pairs of leggings - all bright pink. All the clothes they bought - lingerie, workout clothes, a few casual outfits - were so garish and so revealing that Vivienne could never have seen herself wearing them. But she quickly found she didn’t regret any of the purchases. Quite the opposite. Emma’s joy for all things pink was proving truly infectious. The more they shopped, the more Vivienne could sense her own feelings softening.

She couldn’t help it. Emma loved pink, and Vivienne wanted to be like Emma.

It was impossible not to. She had everything Vivienne didn’t. She was joyful, carefree, and completely unselfconscious in her happiness. More and more, Vivienne found herself dwelling on the strange envy and longing she felt toward the bimbo. Maybe Emma and Mel were right. Maybe a makeover was exactly what she needed. A few lifestyle changes to bring everything into balance.

All so she could keep pursuing her corporate ambitions, of course. Eventually.

Besides those deeper ruminations, there was, of course, a much simpler form of pleasure to be taken in their little shopping expedition: Vivienne was Emma’s biggest fan, and she was having her favorite bimbo porn star of all time pick out clothes for her.

It was a dream come true.

Slowly but surely, Vivienne started leaning into it. She joined her voice to Emma’s as they squealed over cute outfits. She started suggesting things for herself - always pink, of course. It was fun. More fun than she’d expected. And Emma seemed so pleased with her whenever she did. Soon enough, the two of them were like peas in a pod, giggling over cute clothes and the flashy new outfits they were putting together. Vivienne was having the time of her life - even if Emma did keep pushing at her boundaries of modesty a little.

“Are… you sure?” Vivienne asked gingerly, indicating a pink pencil skirt Emma had picked out that was far, far too short to be deserving of the name. “There’s got to be a longer one around here somewhere.”

She knew Emma was keen for her to have it, and so she half-expected the bimbo to reach for the pocket watch and assert her authority. Instead, Emma simply leaned in close and fixed her with the most devastating puppy-eyes stare Vivienne had ever seen.

“Aw, c’mon!” Emma pleaded. “Don’t you, like, think it’ll look good?”

“I…” Already, Vivienne could feel herself melting.

“It’s just soooo perfect.” Emma’s eyes were practically glistening. “Please?”

“F-fine,” Vivienne found herself saying. She was helpless to resist Emma.

“Yay!” Emma brightened at once, before marching off towards the cashier.

It always played out that way, no matter how risqué the item. Lacy thongs, slutty bras, ridiculous heels - in the end, Vivienne fell prey to them all. It was a strange feeling. Usually, Vivienne always got her way. She was a CEO. A leader. A hypnogarch. Someone who’d clawed her way up from ignominy. She wasn’t used to being such a pushover. Yielding to Emma’s will just felt so easy. So natural. Whenever she tried to muster an objection to the kinds of clothes the bimbo was picking out, her head turned foggy and hazy, and the right words simply wouldn’t come. Simultaneously, the temptation to giggle and smile and just say ‘yes’ grew and grew.

Now and then, as they shopped, Vivienne wondered if she should be worried about the fact that she felt so hazy, or that she was proving to be so weak-willed. But each time she decided - no. It was just a harmless shopping trip. Nothing more.

Besides, Emma had Vivienne’s pocket watch, and that meant she was in charge - and that was Vivienne’s own rule! How could anything be amiss?

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, once Vivienne’s arms were aching from the now-huge shopping bags she was carrying around, Emma led her to the changing room of a particularly up-market boutique. It was the kind of place where the changing room really was a room of its own, with luxurious couches and soft, flattering lighting, and where the staff would bring glasses of champagne on request.

“Finally,” Vivienne sighed, slumping onto one of the couches. “I could use a moment to catch my breath.”

“Nope!” Emma admonished, still a wellspring of excitement. “No time! Cause it’s time to, like, try on some of these adorable outfits.”

Vivienne groaned, but good-naturedly. Emma truly was irresistible. Vivienne hauled herself back to her feet and, as Emma indicated, stepped up to the mirror.

“Oh, yeah,” Emma giggled. “This is gonna be soooo much better.”

A shiver of anticipation raced down Vivienne’s spine, and the CEO giggled nervously.

“Right!” Emma exclaimed, before scrunching up her face like she was struggling to concentrate. “How was I supposed to do it… um… Vivienne, you should just, like, stand there and let me undress you, m’kay?”

“Oh!” Vivienne blushed a little. “Um. OK.”

“And… let’s see…” Emma had the distinct look of an actress who’d forgotten her lines. It was kind of endearing. “While I’m doing that, I want you to, like, look straight ahead at the mirror. And just, like… look at yourself. Got it?”

“Sure.” Just as Emma instructed, Vivienne turned to face the mirror and looked at her own reflection.

At once, Vivienne was struck by just how radical a departure from her typical wardrobe her new clothes were going to be. The clothes she was currently wearing were, like all her clothes, dark, formal, and classy. That morning, Vivienne had dressed herself in one of her normal work outfits: an expensive, finely-tailored, black suit jacket with matching pants, a white shirt beneath, some stylish but sensible flats, and a few pieces of designer jewelry to accentuate the look.

She looked good. Very good, in fact. Vivienne looked fashionable, wealthy, intelligent and powerful. All-in-all, it suited her perfectly - and yet, Vivienne couldn’t help but be struck by how plain and joyless her fashion now seemed compared to what Emma wore each and every day.

“So, like,” Emma began. She spoke with the air of someone who was about to launch into something they’d rehearsed. “Isn’t it funny how some people say that the stuff we wear is, like, part of our… um… our identities?”

Vivienne laughed a little at the way Emma was struggling. “I suppose so,” she agreed. “I’ve heard people say that, yes.”

“Yeah!” Emma said excitedly. “I mean, Mel always says stuff like that. But I dunno. To me, it just sounds, like, silly. What does it even mean? It’s like… like what clothes you put on makes you who you are, or something?”

Vivienne let out another laugh. She felt lucky just to be here, with her star, Emma, listening to her speak like this. Being able to bathe in her presence was just as wonderful as she could have hoped.

“How does that even work?” Emma pouted. “I mean, c’mon! Like, what, you just put some different clothes on, and suddenly you’re a whole new girl? That’s so silly!”

Her voice was especially delightful. Vivienne felt like she could listen to it forever - that lilting bimbo voice, rising at the end of every sentence, free of even the slightest hint of stress or shame. For a long time now, listening to Emma on her videos or audio recordings had been a source of comfort for Vivienne. In person, it was even more relaxing.

“But… I guess maybe I do kinda get it,” Emma reconsidered, tilting her head. “I mean, look at me! I’m a total girly ditz, and all I wear is stuff that’s pink and pretty! So that makes sense, kinda. And you? You’re like this… this serious, smart, big-time business lady! So you wear suits and stuff. It all matches.” She giggled. “Isn’t it funny when you see it like that?”

Vivienne giggled along with her. It just felt natural. She was in such a good mood. Being with Emma, like this, made her feel so light and fluffy. It helped, strangely, to know that Emma was holding her pocket watch. Emma was in charge. For some reason, that made Vivienne feel very safe.

“Still.” Emma’s brow furrowed slightly. “It’s weird to think about how, like, if that’s how it works, then when you take off your clothes, it’s like… it’s like… it’s like you’re taking off who you are. You know?”

“I’m… not sure… that’s how it works,” Vivienne replied bemusedly, and was surprised at how distant and absent her own voice sounded. It was as if, just by listening to Emma, she’d drifted off into a kind of waking sleep.

“I guess maybe not,” Emma conceded brightly. “But! You never know. Maybe it’s just, like, something for you to think about, while you’re getting changed.”

As she spoke, Emma gave a cutesy little flourish that, it just so happened, placed Vivienne’s pocket watch in the palm of her hand. Vivienne could only watch in the mirror as the bimbo fastened the watch to a gold chain necklace she plucked from her purse, and then clasped it around her neck like an amulet. With Emma wearing the symbol of authority, her words seemed to stroke Vivienne’s very soul.

“Let’s get started,” Emma announced. “Remember: just, like, stand there, and watch.”

Vivienne nodded numbly. She stood on the spot and watched herself in the mirror. Emma’s reflection was behind hers, and her eyes were drawn to the pocket watch around her neck. Its rhythmic ticking was endlessly seductive.

“First, I’ll take this off,” Emma said, reaching for the front of Vivienne’s suit jacket. She unbuttoned the front, then took hold of the collar and started to peel it away from the CEO’s shoulders. “You know, a jacket like this really sym… um… symbolizes you, right? It’s what people in, like, your position wear. Businesswomen. Leaders. Serious people. People in charge.”

Vivienne nodded again as Emma’s words worked their way through her mind. There was an undeniable, powerful truth to it. Whenever Vivienne dressed herself in the morning, putting on her suit always felt like putting on her outer layer of armor. With it, she was ready to face the world.

“But now,” Emma added, as she pulled Vivienne’s arms out of the sleeves and let the jacket fall to the ground, “it’s off!” She giggled. “No more serious business lady.”

A dizzying sense of loss took hold of Vivienne’s gut. Once, she’d been on a private jet that had run into some turbulence, and the plane had dropped a thousand feet in just seconds. It was just like that. For a brief moment, she stirred.

Then, the pocket watch caught her eye again. She noticed how, reflected in the mirror, the numerals around the face were backward. It was all the more captivating for it. Trying to read the watch was like trying to unravel a little puzzle. Somehow, it reminded her:

Emma had the watch. Emma was in charge.

No more serious business lady.

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the sense of loss was gone, and Vivienne felt nothing but an incredible, blissful lightness.

But Emma was only just getting started. “Now, your pants,” she said, already unfastening them. “I think these are like… um… I don’t remember what Mel said, actually.” She giggled. “But it makes me think about that expression. Y’know? Wearing the pants? Like, being in charge.” Another giggle. “Well, um, now you’re not!”

Like she was sleepwalking, Vivienne stepped out of her pants. Once more, she felt it: the loss, then the lightness. It was quicker this time. Easier.

Maybe it was something to do with the way she’d been following Emma’s lead all day. Vivienne was completely and totally swept up in her rhythm. If either of them was wearing the pants in the relationship, it wasn’t Vivienne. And somehow, that felt natural. It was like Vivienne didn’t need to be in charge anymore.

It was such a relief.

“Next,” Emma cooed, “your shirt.” She reached around Vivienne and started to unbutton it. “It’s so… so nice. Nice and professional. Nice and modest. I guess you can, like, show a little cleavage, if you want. But besides that, you look really, um, what was the word? Dignified. Yeah. Dignified.”

Once more, Vivienne nodded. She was so relaxed. Listening to Emma was so easy.

“Let’s take that off too.” Emma giggled quietly. “Shall we?”

She slipped the shirt off of Vivienne’s body and let it fall softly to the ground.

Vivienne shivered briefly as she felt the cool air on her bare skin. She looked at herself in the mirror, losing herself to her own image. She was wearing little more than her underwear now. She was so exposed. So vulnerable. That thought brought with it a little spike of adrenaline. A certain unfamiliar thrill.

And yet, it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t unwelcome. Far from it. She sensed that here, with Emma, she didn’t need to guard herself. Didn’t need to project an image. She could simply be.

Vivienne felt free.

“How about your shoes?” Emma suggested next, bending at the waist. “Let me take care of those for you.”

In the mirror, Vivienne saw the bimbo lifting her feet and slipping her soles out of her shoes.

“Flats, huh?” Emma giggled. “I mean, they’re nice! Stylish. Sensible, huh? Just like you. That’s what I always think when I see a girl wearing flats. That she’s so, like, serious.” Another giggle. “Makes me wonder what she’s like when the flats come off, and she puts on something a little flashier instead.”

As she finished removing Vivienne’s shoes, Vivienne found herself giggling absently too. Every time Emma took something off, she felt lighter, and that lightness was only growing, filling her, leaving her euphoric.

She was starting to understand how Emma could be so happy and giggly all the time. In a way, it was only natural.

“Oh! And let’s take care of that jewelry too,” Emma exclaimed, standing up. She reached for Vivienne’s pearl earrings, and then her necklace - silver, worked into a fine pattern. “Oo, fancy! Your accessories are all so, like, dignified. So proud. It’s seriously impressive! But, I dunno, I always get tired of being proud like that.” She giggled. “It’s way more fun to just be like me, y’know?”

Vivienne found herself giggling and nodding in vacant agreement.

Being proud was so tiring. But she didn’t need to be proud. Not right now. Not with Emma. She was private, comfortable, safe. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see someone proud or dignified or serious. She simply saw herself, free of expectations.

“Last thing!” Emma announced. “We got you some, like, new lingerie. So let me just take the rest of this off.”

She started unhooking Vivienne’s bra, then, after slipping it off her shoulders, turned her attention to the CEO’s underwear. Vivienne had been wearing a matching set, neither flashy nor frumpy, simply classy and comfortable.

“See, this is what, like, really gets me about all that stuff we were talking about a moment ago,” Emma mused out loud. “If your clothes are your, um, identity, or whatever, then what even happens when you take everything off?” Emma giggled. “You’d be like, nothing. Right? Like a - what do you call it? - a total blank slate!” She seemed pleased with herself for remembering the phrase. “Like there wouldn’t even be a single thought going on in your head.”

Her words sank deep into Vivienne’s mind and echoed within. When, with Emma guiding her, Vivienne stepped out of her underwear, she was left completely naked. Lightness washed through her, and with it a kind of stillness. She was staring at the mirror, and her reflection seemed to echo nothing more than her own blank, tranquil state of mind. She felt nothing. She thought of nothing.

There wasn’t a single thought going on in her head.

“I think I did it! Yay!” Emma cheered quietly, after inspecting Vivienne for a moment. “OK! Now comes the really fun part.” A huge grin came to her face. “I get to dress you up again!”

She started reaching for Vivienne’s shopping bags, rummaging around for particular items. Vivienne remained perfectly still, watching impassively in the mirror. She was a blank slate. There was nothing for her to do but watch.

“Let’s see… Mel had something just adorable in mind…” Emma muttered to herself. “Here it is!” She plucked out a lingerie set and rushed back over to Vivienne, an eager glint in her eye. “Oh my gosh, I can’t wait!”

In a flurry of activity, she dressed Vivienne up in the lingerie. Vivienne was nothing more than a passive mannequin, assisting with the process only as Emma guided her. But she was still obediently watching her own reflection, and the sight of herself wearing those new garments immediately left a deep impression on Vivienne’s hypnotized mind.

They were like nothing she’d ever worn before. The bra was perfectly fitted but tight, clearly designed to push up on her breasts and give her a deep, plunging, visible cleavage. It was unmistakably both slutty and frivolous; pink, and embroidered in lace with little flowers and flowing patterns. Even worse was the thong. A matching pink, it was wickedly thin and hid almost nothing, and was clearly shaped to accentuate the lines and curves of the wearer’s hips and ass.

Once, underwear like that would have offended Vivienne’s pride - but now, her pride was gone. Her mind was primed to accept what Emma gave her, and feel good about it. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a woman who was hot, slutty and shameless.

And she liked it.

“It’s perfect,” Emma purred, admiring her handiwork. “OK. This next!”

The next item was a white blouse. At first glance, it was innocuous, albeit far, far more frilly than anything Vivienne might have usually worn. But once Emma slipped Vivienne’s arms into its sleeves and started to button it up, her design became clear. The blouse was absurdly, obscenely tight. It clung to Vivienne’s figure and, moreover, it was so small around her chest, it couldn’t be buttoned up to cover her cleavage, or even to hide the lacy hem of the push-up bra beneath.

Only one word came to Vivienne’s entranced mind as she took in the look: pornographic.

And that was her, now. Pornographic. A dumb, gleeful, sultry smile came to Vivienne’s face. She looked good. She looked hot. What else was there to say? Clearly, she was meant to be looked at. Stared at. She was meant to enjoy her body, and let other people enjoy it. It was so simple.

“And… here.” Emma was already putting on the next item of clothing. “Careful,” she giggled. “It might be a little tight.”

It was a pencil skirt - ostensibly. In truth, the garment was so outrageously short, it barely deserved the name. The tiny tube of fabric clung tight to Vivienne’s hips as Emma pulled it up, and once it was in place, it covered almost nothing. Vivienne immediately knew that, with every single step she took, it would threaten to ride up and expose the equally slutty thong she was wearing.

And the skirt was, of course, bright pink.

A transcendent fondness for the color was quickly searing itself into Vivienne’s identity. That was what she saw when she looked in the changing room mirror: a girl who loved pink. The color made her feel bright. Bubbly. Giggly. Girly. Euphoric. It was just so right for her. It brought her such happiness. In that way, she was just like Emma.

Black? Gray? No way! Those were boring.

Beyond that, something else about Vivienne was now taking shape. She was an office girl - or at least, a kind of porno parody of one. That was what the blouse and pencil skirt suggested. It made her look like a stereotype of a slutty secretary. That was her role, she could only assume, or something similar. She wasn’t serious. She wasn’t professional. Yes, technically she was a CEO, but that no longer seemed like such a suitable role for a girl like her. Perhaps, instead, she could just be a pleasing little boardroom mascot.

Vivienne giggled at the notion. It felt good. It felt freeing. Nothing to worry about but looking hot. A girl like the one Vivienne saw in the mirror had no cares or stresses besides that.

The next item Emma presented Vivienne with only cemented her new identity. It was a pair of ridiculous, bubblegum pink, stiletto heels, the kind you could barely walk in, polished to an eye-catching sheen. There was no way a serious, proud, stern CEO would wear heels like these. No, Vivienne thought, as Emma helped her into them, one by one. That wasn’t her. Not anymore.

“C’mon!” Emma urged. “Try ‘em out!”

Naturally, Vivienne obliged, strutting back and forth in front of the mirror a few times. At first, she almost fell over with every step, but eventually she started to get the hang of it. As she walked, she couldn’t help but notice how, just to keep her balance, she needed to place her feet in a line and swing her hips back and forth. It was like she was begging people to stare at her ass.

Vivienne’s dumb grin widened. The sheer, shameless, slutty frivolity of that was a delight. It was so refreshing.

“You look totally hot!” Emma squealed. “I can’t wait for the final touch. Here it is!”

To Vivienne’s slight surprise, Emma produced a pair of large glasses with pink rims and pressed them to Vivienne’s face.

Vivienne’s first instinct was to express that she didn’t need glasses. Then, she realized that they were fake. Clear lenses. Just a fashion accessory. And once she looked in the mirror, it all became clear. The glasses fit with the rest of her outfit perfectly. It was just what she needed.

Because, paradoxically, the glasses made her look very, very, very dumb.

Vivienne giggled. Maybe she was. Being dumb didn’t sound so bad. After all, Emma was dumb, and she seemed all the happier for it.

Yes, Vivienne decided. She felt like being dumb. The hypnotized CEO decided to let go of all the big, complicated thoughts that were threatening to intrude on her newfound bliss. She didn’t want to think about those things. Being dumb like Emma seemed like much more fun.

She giggled again. She was dumb, and she loved it.

Looking at her, Emma sighed fondly. “You’re just perfect,” she cooed. The two of them giggled together. “OK! We totally need to go and show Mel your new look. Come on, Vivienne.”

Vivienne was ready to follow her but, after just a couple of steps, Emma stopped abruptly and turned back to the other bimbo.

“You know,” Emma said slowly. “That really doesn’t suit you anymore, huh? You don’t look like much of a Vivienne.”

Vivienne had to agree. Emma was in charge and, besides, Vivienne was now too dumb to think for herself. “I guess not!” she tittered.

“In that case,” Emma decided. “From now on, let’s just, like, call you Vivi!”

***

Hours later, Vivi finally arrived back at her family mansion. She’d spent a little more time out with Mel and Emma, but eventually, Mel had been pulled away by her corporate duties, and Vivi had similarly felt forced to head home so that she could get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, she’d need to work twice as hard to catch up on all the work she’d missed out on during their little impromptu shopping trip.

As she thought about that, Vivi’s carefree giggles died away and the euphoric grin she’d been wearing for hours fell from her face.

Now, more than ever, work sounded completely, infinitely exhausting. All of that stuff was just so boring. So joyless. It didn’t suit her. Not anymore. Did Vivi really have to go back to that life? More than ever, it was so desperately tempting to just let it all go. To dress the way she wanted, pink and slutty. To behave the way she wanted, dumb and silly and giggly. Maybe, if she just let go, she could be like that every day.

Just like Emma.

She couldn’t just walk away, of course. She had far too much responsibility weighing on her shoulders. Something would have to be done about Valeyard Solutions, her company. Suddenly, Vivi’s mind went to Mel and her mothers, and their interest. Perhaps she could just sell to them and wash her hands of it all.

Perhaps she could be free.

For the briefest of instants, her mind was made up. But then, as she stepped across the threshold to the house she’d grown up in, Vivi’s mood turned. In those familiar surroundings, once faded, now reborn in grandeur, it all came flooding back. Her motivation. The reasons she had to fight so hard, day after day. It was all for this. To make good on her family name. To prove herself. To prove she could stand on top.

Vivi rubbed at her face. How could she ever have forgotten?

And why had she wasted a day hanging around with that whelp Melanie Adams? Mel wasn’t her friend. She was her enemy. Her rival - not that she deserved the title. Vivi had let hours go to waste shopping when she could have been advancing her plans to see Melanie Adams subjugated and hypnotized.

Hypnotized…

Then, at last, the penny dropped. Cheeks burning red, Vivi - no, not Vivi, Vivienne! - tore at her ridiculous clothes, trying to rid herself of the shame. She couldn’t believe it. She, Vivienne Gilbert, had been hypnotized - and they’d used her own pocket watch to control her, making her act like a dim-witted bimbo for their amusement.

They’d made her act like Emma. That, most of all, was what stained her cheeks with a churning mess of emotions.

Vivienne would never live it down. Being hypnotized like that was unthinkable for someone in her position. If anyone found out that it had happened - or, god forbid, about her weaknesses - Vivienne would be ruined. She was living out her greatest nightmare. And somehow, the very worst part was how genuinely good it had all felt. Try as she might, Vivienne couldn’t seem to banish that memory from her mind.

Instead, she settled for drowning it in fury as she vowed her revenge.

Melanie Adams would pay.

---

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who  support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following  patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

Artemis, Chloe, Grillfan65, The Secret Subject, Morriel, Dex, orangesya, dmtph, MegatronTarantulas, Madeline, BTYOR, Sarah, Mattilda, Emily Queen of sloths, Neana, Shadows exile, Abigail, Hypnogirl_Stephanie_, Jade, mintyasleep, Michael, Tasteful Ardour, Chris, Dennis, Full Blown Marxism, Morder, S, Brendon, Drone 8315, Jim, Erin, HannahSolaria, hellenberg, Kay, Miss_Praxis, Violet, Noct, Charlotte, Faun, BrinnShea, B, Foridin, Jennifer, EepyTimeTea, Phoenix, Jim, Sebastian, Joseph, Thomas, Liz, naivetynkohan, Basic dev, SuperJellyFrogEx, Katie, Lily, spyrocyndersam13, zzzz, Mal, Bouncyrou, Nimapode, Ash, Artemis, Geckonator, TheRealG, Anonymous, J, GladiusLumin, Ada, Marina, Space Prius, Alex, Michael, Thomas, Dasterin, Djura, Joe, Mattilda, Ana, proletkvlt, DOLLICIOUS, Yodasgirl, Allie~, Cusco-, Griffin, Bouncyrou, Hazelpup, Jakitron, Leah, ravenfan, Ash, ferretfyre, Alphy D, Latavia, KBZ, Ashe, jlc, Jackson, Elizabeth, noe, Steve, Melo, gynoidpoet, MaeMae2569, Thomas, Haggisllama, naughtzero, Nevin, Waddings, Aletheia, NewtypeWoman, ostara, Ivy, Ramanas, Myles_EXVS, tidalGardener, Junefox, dylan, Girl with a Hog, Daedalus, Brainy, Alan, Abigail, Motoyuuri, likenyah, Valmire, Ambition

Finally, special thanks to Neana for commissioning this story!

[cologona]

See in my eyes the greatest tragedy of DITF is that events were leading up to Bruce and Jason finally resolving this simmering issue between them, where Jason thought being Robin was what gave him a place next to Bruce, and Bruce was treating his, Dick, and Jason’s trauma as identical.

The thing that busts my balls about Robin Lives is that it has the broad strokes of what the hypothetical timeline where Jason lives should have.

Bruce realizes his mistake in uncritically projecting his own trauma and coping mechanisms onto his sons, growing from hyperactively empathetic into genuinely compassionate. Jason gets security (emotional security, which given that superhero comics are a story of symbols means it’s the most important kind) from the reassurance that he is loved regardless of his title as Robin and gets to really choose if he wants to be a vigilante or civilian. He gets to grow up.

That Jason doesn’t survive in the main timeline is a tragedy because instead of that emotional resolution and eventual growth we just get a teenager’s corpse and a father regressing into the worst possible version of himself.

But Robin Lives isn’t interested in any of that. It knows but it doesn’t care, because a lot of that great juicy stuff is just relegated to stray panels and background exposition.

Despite the narration being from the POV of Jason’s own therapist there’s very little description of what Jason’s actually going through at all. He gets like a few panels on one page max to voice his thoughts and the rest is what? A bunch of vague drivel about how he’s so broken and traumatized. More frequently the therapist narrator is talking about how beautifully and nobly Bruce suffers. Gimme a break!

As far as Robin Lives is concerned the most interesting thing Jason can do is be a wretch. As far as it’s concerned Jason is nothing, he’s a prop, he’s a moral landmass over which the forces of the two real main characters of this story fight.

I can’t express how much contempt I have for this story, with that ending which is clearly trying to make a Deep Statement about ~the cycle of violence~. Except if it was really invested in the point it was trying to make it’d take more interest in Jason himself as the principal subject. It would give a shit about how valuable the opportunity to heal is.

It would not have Jason get help and grow into his own as an adult, only to inexplicably become evil because what- he killed Joker so that means the moral disease transferred to him? See how stupid it sounds when I say it out loud. According to Robin Lives there’s just no hope once you’ve been Broken. You are doomed to become your abuser.

And that shallow symmetry this story forces the characters into, with Dick and Jason becoming the new Batman and Joker rubs salt into the wound. A dichotomy between those who are Good (like Bruce and Dick who respond to trauma by becoming even more pure) and those who are Weak (like Jason and -apparently- Joker, who go into hysterics and subsequently catch the disease of Evil). How OOC the characters felt should’ve been a warning to the writer that something was off, but alas!!!!

I’ll stop here now because I’m getting too heated to be coherent, but yeah I Dislike This Comic.

[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - Family Reunion

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning(s): none!

—————————————

It was the first time I was taking Trevor home to meet the entirety of my family. So many people in one place. Rambunctious, loud, intimidating people.

Trevor would fit right in.

I knew that, but he wouldn’t listen. No matter how many times I told him, he never believed he would be fine.

We had to fly to the city nearest to my hometown. After bidding goodbye to his lizard and leaving the poor thing with his roommate. He begged to bring Drago at first, but I insisted it wasn’t happening. My father was not a fan of animals in his home. Anything other than a dog would not pass. I knew my mother would wrinkle her nose at the sight of a lizard too.

There were certain family members I was worried about Trevor meeting. One side of my family tended to be a little more judgmental than the other side. One side was full of fun and insanity. The other side was.. well they were fun too, but sometimes new people could throw off the dynamic.

I worried Trevor would do just that, but I also told myself it was a simple Fourth of July party. Nothing to fret over. A few days we would be home, and then we’d go back to Anaheim.

I got him started on the hour drive from the airport to my childhood home, thankful that my parents wouldn’t be there to see him as soon as we got there.

We utilized the time alone. I let Trevor roam around the house, and eventually I led him up to my old bedroom. He was concerned by the sight of a twin sized bed, but I told him we’d make do with the space we had.

He asked about all of my tiny trinkets and decorations, getting to know a part of my life he was never fully immersed in. Then my parents came home and we spent the evening in the living room. Catching up, telling stories, and laughing the night away.

By the morning, Trevor was up well before me. Not early by any means, but we’d been up late, so sleeping in felt necessary.

He shook me awake around ten a.m., and we laid together for close to an hour before we slipped out of bed to get ready.

“Do you think this is overkill?” I stepped out of my closet to peek at Trevor. His blue polo was matched with a pair of white shorts. He didn’t have any red on. Nothing looked too overdone or extra. His hair looked a little poofy, but I’d blame that on the shower he took before bed, and all the moving he does when he sleeps.

“Trevor, you look fine.” I assured before I stepped back into the closet. I gave my own outfit one last look before I stepped out to slip on my shoes. I was met with the sight of a very unconvinced looking boyfriend, and I let out a sigh the second I noticed his tension.

He looked great, honestly. A piece of me wanted to stay home and celebrate the Fourth of July in another way with him. His skin was such a pretty golden color, and his cheeks were slightly pink from the beginnings of a sunburn he got back in Anaheim. I reached out to grab one of his forearms while my other hand traced the tattoo he had on the opposite arm. Nike, a beautiful statue and a meaningful symbol in his life.

“My family is going to love you. Just be yourself, yeah? Maybe don’t curse as much.. but other than that, be yourself.” I teased softly. Trevor was slow to nod before a smile made its way to his lips.

“I can’t believe I’m meeting your whole family.”

I couldn’t believe it either. I couldn’t believe it up until the moment we were pulling into my grandmother’s driveway, parking off to the side, and climbing out of the car. Then my body was buzzing with electricity. I could already hear everybody inside. We were early, so it was only immediate family there.

I walked Trevor through the garage and into the foyer. My heart was beating a mile per minute. I’m sure his was too. His hand squeezed my own as the conversation slowed. I kicked my shoes off just in time to see my baby cousin come flying out from the living room.

The little guy shouted my name in excitement before he looked back at his parents to see if they heard him.

Soon my whole family was rushing into the foyer to greet.

“Holy shit.” Trevor mumbled as he stepped up behind me, his body pressed into my back.

The hugs and endless, “how are you’s” eventually died down enough for me to introduce Trevor. The moment of truth.

“This was that plus one I was telling you guys about.”

“I’m Trevor. It’s nice to meet you guys.”

He was accepted into the family almost immediately. After he was introduced and got to know my family, he blended. He was regarded as just another visitor after more people began to arrive. I lost him after a while, only to hear him in the kitchen where my grandmother was asking him to help her carry things out to the fire pit.

Nothing meant more to me than knowing Trevor got along with my grandmother, who was usually high strung and easy to stress out.

As more people came around, the party moved outside. Kids ran about while family caught up. Everybody made their rounds meeting Trevor. He communicated well with people, that I knew, since the day we met. But he communicated even better with my family.

“He’s real sweet, you know that?”

I looked away from him to see my grandmother peering down at me with a proud smile.

“Works hard too.” She added.

“Yeah.. I love him a lot.”

“I can tell just by the way he looks at you, that he loves you too.” She pointed a finger at me. “I was so worried when you left for California. I don’t really know what I was worried about now. I should have known you’d be bringing somebody home.“

“Thanks.. that means a lot.”

When I looked back, Trevor was gone. I heard a squeal from behind me, and when I turned in my lawn chair, I caught sight of Trevor playing wiffle ball with the kids. His shoes and socks were gone, kicked off to the side with a bunch of other tiny pairs. I couldn’t help but giggle at how he played with them. Chirping and smack talking, chasing them down and laughing all the while. That awkward breathy giggle laugh that was so contagious it had me chuckling in my seat.

Trevor and I agreed we weren’t ready for kids, but when we were.. I knew he would be a great dad.

I set my drink down and stood up, walking across the yard. I kicked my own shoes off and slipped my socks away.

“Can I join? Or is the game strictly for kids?” I called, and caught the attention of all the little eyes. As well as the big pair in the midst of all the fun.

“You have to be on the opposite team.” Trevor responded, heaving for air.

“You bat!” The little girl at home plate called. “Trevor throws too fast.” I walked over as she slipped the bat into my hand and ran off to the side, giggling excitedly.

“Are you playing unfair?” I asked accusingly. One didn’t have to be athletic to play wiffle ball. Hand eye coordination was all it took. And I’d been playing this since I was as old as the toddler standing on second base with his older brother.

“Me? No!” Trevor and I both assumed our stances as he responded. “But I’m not taking it easy on you.”

“Same here, Zegras.”

He pitched. I swung. The ball went flying. We weren’t far from the house, and I felt accomplished the second I heard the plastic ball whistle through the air and hit the wood siding of the old home. Trevor took off after it, I thought it funny to prance around the bases. Until I spotted Trevor running full speed ahead at me while I was in between third and home plate. One rule in family wiffle-ball. A rule as old as time. No home runs. If it was possible to get tagged out, you were going to get chased down.

“Trevor, no!” I screamed as laughter immediately fell from my lips. I picked up the speed, as did he.

He reached for me just as my feet touched home plate, one of them getting caught beneath it and managing to fall forward.

Trevor grabbed ahold of me, but he went down too.

I heard my team shouting in victory, and the rest of my family laughing and shouting as well, but I was too busy laughing along with Trevor. Our legs covered in grass stains, as were our elbows. Trevor carefully touched the ball to my side.

“You’re out.” He spoke.

“I am not! I crossed home plate!” I gave him a shove, and soon I felt a pair of tiny knees digging into my back, and a child drape herself right over my side. Another kid joined, and I groaned as he climbed on top of me as well.

“Man pile!” I heard a little boy yell, and I gasped when he jumped on top of Trevor.

Soon there was a whole lot of us laying in the grass and laughing. Trevor tried to push a few kids off, but they only returned. We accepted our fates until parents came by to help us out, pulling their kids aside and giving us some space.

“I definitely scored,” I mumbled as I pulled away from Trevor.

“Did not.” He reached out to brush the grass from my knees, ever the gentleman despite our argument.

“Did so!” I countered, soon feeling the tickle of his fingers against my sides. I broke into a fit of laughter.

“I won, fair and square!” Trevor pulled an old dandelion from the ground around us, shaking it in my face. I grimaced and tried to wipe the fuzzy seeds away.

“Damnit Trevor, quit that.” I groaned softly with a smile.

No wonder he got along with the kids so well.

I finally slipped away from him and stood up, brushing myself off while Trevor made a show of the ‘pain’ in his joints while he stood up. I rolled my eyes at him.

I heard a few kids shouting about s’mores when one of the adults brought the marshmallows out.

“Are we making s’mores too?” When I looked back at Trevor, his eyes were wide with excitement.

“Obviously, T. Though I’m not sure you need any more sugar.” I turned around, hearing him huff and feeling his hand slip into mine as I guided him back toward the fire. Kids were already gathered around the table, and I giggled before I slipped away from Trevor to make my way over.

“You guys have to be careful with all these pointy sticks, okay?” I instructed as I grabbed one of the bags of marshmallows and opened them. “Everyone tell me how many they want.”

It was a hot mess trying to figure out which kid yelled which number, but soon Trevor was at my side, helping me with the little ones.

“Be careful, and don’t run!” I called to the last child as he left to find his mother. I glanced up at Trevor before grabbing a one of the metal skewers.

“We have to send a picture to Jamie. He’ll be so jealous.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at how excited Trevor looked. The way his eyebrows moved with his mouth, and his eyes squinted when he was excited.

“Give me a marshmallow, Zegras.” I chided. He pulled two from his half empty bag and slipped them onto the stick. “I said one.”

“You won’t make one for me?” He pouted.

“Ugh.. god Z, you’re so needy.” I whipped my body around in a sluggish manner, whining playfully over his own pout. Trevor chuckled at me before his arms wrapped around my body.

“I know, I’m the worst.” He mumbled with a giggle. “I’m gonna put the rest of our stuff on a plate, then I’ll come find you.”

“Grab peanut butter cups!”

When he joined the rest of my family around the fire, we found ourselves seated in the grass. Trevor sat next to me while I roasted our marshmallows, the plate of Graham crackers and chocolate in his lap.

The kids quickly began to gather around us, plopping down left and right, mostly around Trevor, but a few with me as well.

“Trevor look what I have!” A kid held out her messy marshmallow. Her face was covered in evidence of the other three she ate before.

“I’m about to have one too.” Trevor giggled. “I’ll tell you guys how it tastes.”

“Oh auntie makes them the best!” Another little boy called. He practically lunged into Trevor’s lap, settling himself in the space where his legs were folded criss-crossed. I giggled at the surprise on Trevor‘s face.

When I looked back at the marshmallows, I realized they were beginning to melt off the skewer.

“Trev! Crackers!”

The kid seated in Trevor’s lap leaned back against his chest while Trevor helped me make the s’mores. I leaned the skewer up against the fire ring after, and we clinked our snacks before I allowed Trevor to take the first bite.

The look of pure bliss on his face was enough to boost my ego for a lifetime.

“Wow.” He spoke through a full mouth.

“That’s why I suggest the peanut butter cups instead of normal chocolate.” I quipped before I took a bite out of my own s’more.

“I want a bite!” The boy reached for Trevor’s snack, and I giggled when my boyfriend pulled it out of the kid’s reach.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll make you one.” I stretched an arm out to ruffle his hair. “Kelsey, can you go grab me another marshmallow?” I asked a little girl to my left. She smiled and quickly got up to go find the bag. I leaned into Trevor’s side while I waited.

The little boy in his lap aimlessly played with Trevor’s shoe strings, before looking up at the hockey player with a blank stare. Trevor was busy finishing the last bite of his s’more before he made eye contact with the kid.

“Hunter?” The little boy’s head perked up at the sound of his mother’s voice.

“Gotta go.” He mumbled as he climbed out of Trevor’s lap, with a bit of assistance.

“Bye, Buddy.” Trevor offered him a fist bump before the kid ran off to find his mother.

I stared my lover down with an incredulous smirk. When Trevor looked back at me, his brow rose quickly.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just love how good you are with kids. And my family.”

“Really?” He looked surprised. “God I was afraid they’d hate me.”

I laughed softly, wrapping an arm around his back. “They could never hate you. You’re the first guy I’ve dated who’s actually treated me nice.”

“Oh don’t tell me that.. that makes me sad.” One of his hands came down to rest on my thigh. I brought my free hand to rest on top of his.

“You’d have to kill me or burn my apartment down before they hated you.” I joked, earning a small laugh from him.

“I don’t think I’ll end up doing either of those things.”

“Eh who knows? You might manage to cause a small kitchen fire one day.”

“Hey!” He gently pushed me, and I giggled at his offense.

Our conversation settled into silence before I looked back up at him.

“How many kids do you want?”

“Huh?”

“Kids.. Trev. Do you want kids?”

I watched him contemplate my question.

“A few? Maybe like.. three? I grew up with two siblings. I feel like three kids balances out a house well. Ya know?”

I didn’t quite understand his logic, but if Trevor wanted three kids, I figured I could go along with that.

“What about two and a dog?” I suggested playfully.

“Oh, a dog like Louie?”

“Yeah, we can get a dog like Louie. I was thinking maybe something a little more protective though. A Great Dane?”

“What if it eats our kids?” Trevor’s question caused a quiet fit of laughter to fall from my lips.

“They’re very gentle dogs. Just territorial with strangers and intruders.” I explained.

“Well that’s what we have Jamie for.” Now we were both laughing.

“I’m not having three kids and Jamie.”

Trevor playfully gasped. “I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

“He’ll get over it.” I gently squeezed his hand.

“He’s gotta be the uncle to our kids. He’d better get over it.”

“What about Griffin?”

“Eh. Jamie’s closer.” I rolled my eyes and giggled softly, leaning back into Trevor’s side.

“I’m gonna tell Griffin you said that.” I mocked quietly.

“He’ll get over it.” He responded in time.

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[manytoonepoet13]

What is a rose truly for?

~~~🌹🥀~~~

This music video has left me quite... confused? Perhaps a bit frustrated? Because I can tell there is something in this mv, in this song, but I can't put my finger on it on what it is exactly. Particularly, I am torn over the symbolisms, why these specific visuals were used, why these specific transitions, and so on, how they would fit in with the general timeline and the overall story, it's confusing, at least, as of now where there's a lack of English translation. I'm certain everything will fall into place, but until then, I want to discuss my theories.

1.) "I'm Stitch Dot." I first approached the title quite literally, stitch as in stitches and it may relate to the tapestry and quilts Roma's kingdom is known for. Then I looked at the possible meanings it could have in literature, to which I have discovered that "stitch" may refer to a sudden pain, which is understandable since you get hurt when you get stitches, or, you get hurt which is why you need to get stitches but you end up hurting yourself more because of those stitches.

That last thought was close, it made me relate it to roses, and my thought looked a little bit like this: "A rose, it's beautiful, but it has thorns. Find yourself pricking yourself, you get hurt. And it's somewhat similar to a dot. But sometimes, that aside, sometimes when you get hurt, the pain is not similar to a mere dot. Sometimes, the pain is too much that you need to get stitches to fix yourself and keep yourself together." That thought is VERY close to what the title wanted to convey because, vague it may be, I tried to actually say the title out loud "I'm Stitch Dot" and, perhaps it's just me, but it sounded something similar to "I'm stitched up."

That thought made me compare it to the visuals, where different fabrics were stitched up to form one quilt, one tapestry. Those different fabrics were supposed to symbolize the different parts of Romarriche...

2.) Fabrics.

The fabric here is most likely representing the "old french" or "old american" aesthetic they wanted him to convey through his clothing, and perhaps a part of his personality. This is Roma on surface level.

There's a lot going on here, but let me break it down for you.

a.) The white fabric with pink flowers: Most probably relating to an "innocent" kind of love, one that symbolizes his kind heart, his caring and generous nature.

b.) The purple (or magenta?) fabric with pink flowers: Most probably relating to a slightly more intense love than the other fabric, probably representing his want and determination to protect others, which may relate to this line from his wiki used to describe him: "Determination Hidden Deep Within a Tolerant Nature."

c.) The blackened red fabric that looks like it has roses but also has this white thingy that looks like it was scribbled down randomly: An extension of the previous fabric, but here, it got intense to the point of disarray and this is where the SEEDS take place. Roma dislikes it when his friends are hurt, while this may not be an insecurity, it is a dislike, therefore a negative emotion, therefore the SEEDS would provoke him so they could feed on those negative emotions. The rose pattern is him, the white scribbles is him being plagued by paranoia of not being able to protect his friends or anyone if the situation calls it. This leads him spiralling down and overthinking and over-worrying which will lead the SEEDS right to where they are and the cycle will continue on until the unfortunate happens.

d.) The black fabric: Him getting corrupted. Easy as that.

This struggle to remain calm but at the same time to be on guard to protect whoever dear to him will be the main thing that will lead the SEEDS right to him if he doesn't balance it out.

The same thing applied here, only half of the screen is mixed with the red textile overlapping the black fabric. Most probably, if meant in a good way (to which I hope it is), means that he managed to balance it out. The fabric we talked about became more vibrant, and perhaps a bit more orderly now. While the fabric that consumes the second part of the screen, the black fabric with red textiles, most probably means how even with these negative emotions, he managed to find that point where he managed to find good in it, he managed to find the power he has, how instead of paranoia, he sees determination, and covered it with the intense emotions that he has now embraced.

And Merold? Why does he have the purple fabric? Well, his intense emotions has been "tamed" in a way during Your Melody and had now learned his lesson.

3.) Frames.

Most probably, the frames being used in this mv is to show how Roma used to confine himself, or his emotions rather to keep them from being too intense or scare people off, kind of like Merold in that broken mirror. But throughout, he has learn to open up, and be free.

Which is why he went from this:

To this:

But unfortunately, I don't think I could end this happily. Perhaps bittersweet.

4.) The distance between the lords and knights.

This is something very interesting I found in the comments section. (Thank you and credit to these people, by the way.)

They highlighted how even though the knights and their lords are close, there is still a distinct line, this distance that none of them dare to cross. And this speaks a lot considering Roma's relationship with his lord is probably the closest out of all the knights. Marroncream was the one who taught him how to make sweets and sewing, this solidified their bond and brought them closer together. They cherish each other, care for each other, yes, but still, there is this distance between them that never seems to close. Perhaps it is their titles? Their duties? The sense of professionalism? This is most probably why gray roses was shown - they symbolize formality and sophistication. Or perhaps he just struggles to convey it properly. The knights do have this "sickness" where they don't know how to express their feelings properly and do things they think is for the best for the people they love without thinking clearly (sometimes).

But what I really like about the second comment is this line "Although you don't your love isn't very beautiful, do you also think it's as important as the needlework of your beloved master?"

This love grew because of his bond with Marroncream, primarily because of them bonding over needlework. If ever he considers his love as something that is not very beautiful, the same love that grew from needleworking with his beloved master, and the love that came from seeing the finished art his master has made, would he consider the needlework of his master not very beautiful like his love? Would it be as important as his "not very beautiful" love? He would most probably answer no, but what he is implying is leading to the answer yes. Why?

Like I said, this love grew from needleworking with his master and the awe and admiration from seeing the finish product of his master's finished needlework. If he were to consider his love "not very beautiful" he would deem his master's needlework "not very beautiful" as well.

That would most probably leave him silent. Contemplating. Wondering about his answer. This is a common problem with the knights, one that I would relate to my earlier statement about the red fabric (c). Him feeling so much yet all of this thoughts are practically scribbles that he can't think clearly and wouldn't know how to express it properly... That is something he would have to learn. That is something he has learn thought the mv.

5.) Eyes Closed.

Perfect! I was wondering about this, and it's quite fitting as well. I've said this in passing before where eyes have been quite the prominent symbol in Fragaria. First shown in Ever Red, then Your Melody, so on so forth. But the most recent one is Bouquet of Wishes, and now, this.

And it's quite interesting to know this point because the story this comment has mentioned (Thank you and credits to this person), fits the overall world of Fragaria in a way that I've never thought about before. Cover your right eye, then you won't see your past — how the first timeline of the Fragaria world has fallen. Cover your left eyes, and you won't see your future — the uncertainty, the potential of having history repeat itself when they least expect it because they lost their memories. Right, applies to Roma, left, applies to both Merold and Puruth, But what does it mean to have both eyes closed then? I haven't read the story myself, but, if I were to connect this with the mv and the overall world of Fragaria, it could be described as momentary peace.

You close your eyes, free yourself from looking at the horrible things that has occured for too long, and let yourself relax... breathe... think... reflect... You close your eyes and see black. The void of color, or lack thereof, you usually associate with the SEEDS, but in this moment where it is just you, you would be able to breathe and free yourself of paranoia and anxiety, and reflect... You close your eyes and see your friends, your beloved master, your people, you see how they have supported you all throughout, you see how far you have come despite the consequences. You close your eyes and see everything. Everything you have done. Everything you haven't done. Everything that needs to be done.

You close your eyes, and suddenly, everything is falling into place... The only thing you need to do now is open them, but keep that sight in your heart, stitch it into your very being, your very should... And take it from there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The knights ask nothing in return for their love.”

[rhysricepuffs]

random badeni hcs because i cannot form a normal thought abt this show (this was supposed to include several characters but i got carried away with badeni) (english isnt my first language so pls pardon some faulty grammar) (also pls excuse the messy writing, these are just stuff ive jotted down)

Badeni:

• probably hyperlexic and learned to read at an early age

• used to be ramble a lot when he was younger. he liked to monolouge about random things he found interesting. his ramblings were about things that kids his age didnt care about (which consequently led to some struggles with his social life early on). he mostly yapped about poems/stories he read, but he also talked about the symbolism of a flower he picked, or the name of a random rock that looked cool

• used to be sweet kid :( he smiled alot and was joyful back then

• didnt like that certain things were the way they were, and there was no further explanation to it. why did you have to follow a certain unreasonable rule at school? why was it rude to interrupt someone while talking? he constantly questioned and asked why, which led to many people disliking him. he eventually learned to question internally instead of expressing them out loud.

•gets so fixated while researching/reading and can even continue so several days in a row. The only times he stops is when someone (usually grabowski, and later oczy) checks up on him, and then he realizes that he’s at the verge of passing out

• meaning that he tends to forget his needs and has to be reminded to hydrate, sleep, etc.

• would absolutely lose it over a hug. he’s definitely touched-starved. bonus points if someone plays with his hair :( (not that he would just let anyone do so)

• he opened up to oczy and jolenta over time. he let jolenta braid his hair, and he told oczy about certain academic knowledge he didnt know about (it was his way to show appreciation)

• has a habit to pace around. a complex equation requiring much thought? he paces around. someone spewing illogical, stupid yap? he paces. if he needs some time to unwind? he paces. sometimes, when either oczy or grabowski checks up on him, they see him just walking in circles while tugging his finger around his chin ( like the thinking pose) and he sometimes talks with himself too.

• he would be a bassist in a modern band au; he might appear withdrawn and aloof, but this guy would be willing to take the spotlight anytime (i mean, have you seen some of those bass solos? they slap. literally)

• in a modern au, he’d probably be very conservative about listening to music: his taste would only consist of classical music, refusing to listen to anything else due to classical being “objectively better” because he says so. until oczy came and introduced him to indie, rock, pop, etc. at first he denied the appeal of it, but later he caught himself listening to them out of curiousity and ended up liking it. when confronted about it, he’d just say that it was nothing special while bopping his head to the beat.

• modern au badeni would be so skeptical and frustrated over social media. He doesnt like the nature of it; posting appealing things with little to no further information about it and the blantantly obvious lies and traps people fall for. it was mind-boggling to him. What do you mean that people base their opinions on short form content, when to be able to gauge the reality of certain topics, one would have to research beyond snippets of information? What do you mean that people consciously lie about a product’s effects for the sake of profit? The truth being somewhat obscure wouldnt sit right with him. The only reason he’d ever download such an app would be watch cat videos

• speaking of which, he’d 100% be a cat person. if he sees a random stray cat, he’ll go all pspspspspsp and hug and cuddle with it :) (making sure no one he knows sees him, though). he would own a cat that he would spoil :)

•badeni would wear a type of perfume that smells like a combination of violets and musk (im no expert in perfumery), and it would blend with the scent of books due to him being around them most of the time. but he usually doesnt bother wearing perfume--only on rare occasions where he has to present himself well. in fact, he finds perfumes to obstruct his sense of smell (he does have a strong sense, after all. remember when he called out oczy for reeking of blood?)

• due to his poor eyesight, either grabowski or oczy gave him a description about things that were hard for him to see, such as things from afar, or some small object.

planning to write one with oczy soon :)

[r0semultiverse]

Mr. 6 made you do a good show to be released?? 👀 um....

This is already giving serious eye vibes.

A whole show dedicated to public humiliation?

The Mr. Bonzo suit started moving??? 👀 Serious stranger vibes. 🤡

"It actually became a sort of ritual"

I've seen people being like "don't cross tag" but buddy... the writing cross tags itself here I mean c'mon! 😂 Something something ritual of the stranger- okay, I'll keep listening!

Hey, what's with the music?? Hey, who is Terrance Menki???👀

"The police said there were eleven bodies in total and his wardrobe was full of all sorts of homemade costumes." BRO IS ACTUALLY MAGNUSPOD WILLIAM AFTON-

"It certainly had a profound effect on the Mr. Bonzo brand." Oh I'm sure it did, holy fucking shit. 👀

Oh, me using this image is rather ironic now.

"In a lot of ways I’m more his prisoner now than I ever was on my show." WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT? 👀

"The witness statements from three murders over the last five years that claim a person in a Mr. Bonzo costume was at the scene? Do you think there could be a copycat?" Has the fear of clowns manifested as an actual clown-guything?

"Don’t contact us again." "Us?" "Why am I still trapped dealing with all this this- Why won’t he let me go?! Why-" So Mr. Bonzo is absolutely a clown cryptid of sorts with some sort of hold over Nigel.

Oh no, Gwen's about to fuck around & find out, isn't she? 👀

Hey, is Colin still himself & is he supposed to be back?

Hmm, okay, I guess that's him (hopefully).

"Maybe don’t tell them I’ve been on their terminals. They’ll only get the wrong idea." "If Lena asks, I wasn’t here." Seems like everyone's got their own little secret investigations going on, fun! This can only go well! 🙃

One of the episodes absolutely no one shows up to work except Lena is there & is like "where the fuck did everyone go?"

"Time to get some new hires again I guess."

Let's go!! Ruin exploration gang!!

"Like, it’s Saturday night and I’m choosing to hang out in a hole with you. A wet hole. And not the good kind either."

Alice with the absolute best quotes. lmao

That sounds like something with giant wings like a bat or some sort of cloth flapping in the wind. Let's hope it's the latter!

Oh a rusty old filing cabinet! Wait tetanus- 😭

"That carved floor in the big atrium – I don’t know what’s going on with that." Ah so we're just gonna breeze past that then. 😶

These are probably the remnants of old avatar creation test areas like mentioned in the Gerry & Gertrude episode. I'm just assuming here.

A key? Big find! Let's go!

AS I WAS SAYING-

Gwen, it was nice knowing you. 🫡

"Now get out of his house."

Archivist! 👁👄👁

"symbols of ancient otherworldly power"

Wait could this be a timeline where this universe's Jane Prentiss actually did manage to invade the building & succeed? I'm thinking out loud.

21:10 that sounds like critters, insects specifically 👀

"I have memories of weird stuff I saw here, but no context. I want to know what was happening, why they chose us… why they didn’t choose me. Maybe find the bit where everything started to go wrong." I am so captivated & intrigued please recount said memories to us- I mean Alice so we can learn more. Please. 👀

EXCUSE ME, WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT?!? WHO IS "[ERROR]?"

WHY DO THEY SOUND DISTORTED AS FUCK?? ARE THEY FROM THE PRIME TIMELINE OR IS THIS A NEW THING?

ARE WE GAZING OUR EYES UPON A WRETCHED THING FROM THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES?!

edit:

Is Lucia Wright an avatar of The Flesh now (in this universe or from the original timeline somehow)? Because it sure fucking sounds like it! 👀 Well, at least that key was put to good use! 😂

Also, supposedly Mr. Bonzo is a reference to Mr. Blobby.

Gwen, I'd be quaking in my boots too. That thing is terrifying!

Late observation but this universe & story seems to focus a lot on the cryptids & I like the direction it's going in! Loving this plot of cryptid hunters, childhood avatar experiments, a strange institute where our main character has past trauma, & just all of it is so good! 💜

Amazing episode, 10/10, I was at the edge of my seat the entire time! 💜 That Bonzo scene & the sound design were absolutely horrifying, thank you! The ending too! 🔥

[letsgetrowdy43]

Prologue— we're just getting started

Au Master list

This is an eventual Mark Estapa x Reader story, very much a slow-burn romance

It started with intense nausea, waves of sickness rolling over her for moments at a time and it ended with her pacing around the bathroom of the Umich hockey senior house with the pregnancy test sitting on the counter, the timer for three minutes set as she watched the countdown begin. Second, by second her stomach dropped with each tick of the clock.

Her roommates had been a little too overbearing as of late due to her 'sickness', so sure this little illness was the result of a largely regretted hookup with her best friend, meaning that taking this test in the comfort of her apartment wasn't an option right now. Instead, she hid away from the world in a bathroom that reeked of axe body spray and had dirty clothes all over the floor.

None of this was in her life plan, it wasn't write-in her five-year plan that she promised a naive and younger version of herself. This scenario was written in the stars, fate running through her veins as she stared from the count down back at the test.

All of the boys exited the house about five minutes prior, screams of endearment to the 'sick' girl as they exited the house and headed off to their afternoon practice all except for Nolan and Nick who could now be heard downstairs, voices sounding as the door slammed behind them. A greasy 'pick me up' breakfast in their clutch, promising a McMuffin was just the perfect remedy to help settle her stomach after a morning of puking her guts up in their bathroom.

Nurse Nolan and Nick were screaming once again for her to come to join them downstairs, promises of coffee and food to lure her from her hiding spot. "If you wait any longer the ice in your coffee is gonna melt!" Nick yelled from the bottom of the stairs. "A little patience would be nice blanks" she yelled out, surprised that her voice was able to reach above a choked whisper.

She stared down at the piece of plastic for a second, her heart beating against the cage of her chest like it was trying to break free of its constraints, loud thuds filled her ears as the timer hit ten seconds, then five, three. And then the world went silent, the thuds turned into rings, and in a split second, the sign turned from a loading symbol to a big fat positive sign.

The little computerized screen mocked her. '2-3 weeks' It was like a slap straight to the face. The test dropped from her hands back onto the counter as she fell to her knees, finding her head hung over the toilet once more.

Nolan heard a loud bang come from upstairs, followed by the familiar sounds of agony as she threw up. But this time it ended differently, there was no call out to let the boys know that she was okay, she went silent and then followed it with muffled cries making Nick stop in his tracks and head up the stairs.

"You okay in there?" he asked as he knocked gently on the door, his hand fumbling with the locked knob as a beat of silence passed. “I did something stupid,” she said through the door, her voice already giving up on her, she slowly opened the bathroom door and collapsed into nicks arms, gasping for air as he steadied himself, “like unbelievably stupid, and I need you to take me to the hospital,” she mumbled into the man's chest.

Nolan stood in the doorway of the bathroom his hands gripped the bottle of water harshly as a worried expression filled in his blank face, his stomach in knots as he watched the colour drain from her cheeks.

Nick's fingers gently raked through her hair as she shook uncontrollably into his frame, her fingers gripping at his workout shirt as he held her up to support her, gasping for air as she cried into him.

“What kind of stupid are we talking about, cause me and Nolan can fix anything” she pulled her face out from its hidden place under Nick's chin, worry-filled his face as he searched her for any signs of physical hurt. She cringed and handed Nolan the positive pregnancy test that was being held in her firm grip, "you can't fix this."

“Holy fuck”

She frowned with a sigh and leaned up against the bathroom counter, the sleeves of a sweater shed stolen from Kent being used as a tissue, wiping away the salty tears that kept rolling down her cheeks, her skin itching from the irritation. The mess of mascara under her eyes is smudged more as Nick uses his thumb to wipe some of it away, a light frown on his face as he pulled her back into his arms.

"I'm so unbelievably fucked Nick," she whispered as he pulled away to shake his head. "You're not doing this by yourself if that's what you're trying to imply," She knew exactly what he meant, if she was going through with this, every guy on the Umich hockey team was going through it too, she was one of them, and Nick was going to make sure that every guy knew that.

“Is there anyone you want us to get? Your mom? Maybe your secret lover...” Nick dragged out suspiciously waiting to see if she would spill who the father was. Her eyes went wide as a gasp left her lips, her stomach suddenly feeling in knots once again, “oh my god I have to tell Philippe” her hands came up to her mouth the muffle the incoming cries.

“You slept with Lapointe?!” the two best friends exclaimed in unison as she looked up at them with a glare, “sorry not the time” Nolan whispered and patted her shoulder. "you have the emotion support ability of a rock, y'know that?" Nick said elbowing Nolan to go and hug the girl.

“Philippe and I were a one-time thing, you guys had just done your first home game, and I had done a lot of pregaming” she shrugged defeatedly and took the test back from Nolan, her bottom lip now pulled between her teeth as he squeezed her up against his chest.

A small laugh left her mouth as she recalled the entire affair, "we were so drunk, I woke up the next morning alone, in Holtzy's bed and we never spoke about it again," she grinned remembering her run-in with Owen and Kent the next morning as she rolled out of Steve's room with no pants and no excuse but to come clean.

"You're telling me that you fucked Phil in Steve's bed! And half of the Sophomores know! This is gold, truly" Nick laughed gaining a smack from Nolan. "Who has a lack of emotional capacity now dickhead!"

Nolan took the girl by her shoulder and gently pried her away from him, looking her in the eyes, "are you sure it's his?" "Yeah, you haven't finally given into Estapa's flirting yet have you?" Nick grinned, he loved picking on her for Mark's, not-very-well-hidden crush on her, all the boy knew though that she harboured a little adoration for the freshman who couldn't take a hint to save his life She glared over at him, "I got pregnant, that doesn't entitle me to sleep with half of the Umich rooster" she frowned as Nick grinned back all her.

"But I'm positive that it's Phils, I haven't had sex with anyone in like six months" a bitter-sweet smile on her face as Nolan led her out of the bathroom to get ready to head to the hospital

-❀-

"It's mine isn't it?" Philippe mumbled as she walked into the kitchen, a tired expression on her face as she feigned sleep, praying that a cup of tea or something could soothe her to sleep. She'd recently moved into the spare room in the senior's house after much begging from Nick. Philippe had grown suspicious of the boys new found protectiveness over the girl, his inkling had been settled after overhearing a call between Owen and Nick, solidifying and answering all of his questions,

"I was gonna- how did you-?" she stared at him, and sat at the kitchen table with barely any lights on, the mug in her hand fell to the floor making her jump, abandoning the idea of tea she cautiously moved closer to him.

She nodded gently trying to rack her brain around the fact that this conversation was about to happen. The make-it-or-break-it moment, she thought to herself as she stepped away from the man to grab a small piece of laminated paper, a six-week sonogram of their baby.

"Blanks called Owen while we were on the way to practice yesterday to ask if he could drive you to your ultrasound appointment" he whispered as his hands reached out to touch her, his vision was slightly blurry from the nerves. She stood in front of him, silent, not wanting to disrupt the peace. Her fingers gently racked through his curls that had been crushed with his hat and she placed the small photo in his palm. Begging eyes as she retreated away from him, a sad smile on her face as she watched his gaze soften at the tiny black and white photo.

The man's thumb ran over the little screening of the baby before looking back up at her, her face riddled with guilt as she waited for some sort of reaction. Quietly praying that his reaction was anything but negative, she didn't even need words, just some sort of reassurance,

His lips pulled into a small smile, watching as the worry in her chest deflected and she smiled back. He reached out for her hand, intertwining their fingers as he pulled her closer to him, "you call the shots here, okay, I will back you up a hundred percent of the time, you just gotta tell me the game plan" she rolled her eyes at his sports reference.

"Thank you" she whispered and leaned forward to gently kiss the top of his head, his hand found the small of her back, his hand brushing against her soft skin as he soothed the goosebumps on her skin, the two of them basking in silence for a moment longer.

"I think I'm going to keep it" she pulled away from his touch to look Philippe in the eyes, "I can't explain it, but this feels like something that I need to do" she whispered. "You don't have to explain to me" he mumbled back. "What I'm trying to say is that doesn't mean you have to be involved, I want you in the picture, but if you can't I understand" she gave him a sad lopsided smile, her fingers fixing the chain around his neck as his brows furrow. "No no, I'm going be here for you, and I'll always be there for them" he pulled her into his lap and hugged her tightly.

"I'm not gonna sit back and make you handle all of this alone," he said lowly as she cried into his neck, mumbled thank you leaving her lips as he squeezed her tighter

-❀-

Philippe grabbed his hockey bag and got ready to head him before Brendan grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back onto the bench, “sit down Lapointe we need to have a chat” Grano smiled softly as Philippe looked at the room to see the entire team staring at him

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his hand raking through his damp curls as his expression grew worried. “Hush I’m the one asking the questions,” Nick said sitting down next to him, obviously trying to intimidate the poor boy who grew nervous under the stares of his entire team

“Anyways we need to talk about your new-found situation” Nick smiled and looked around the room to the rest of the guys who waited for a response. “We’ve already discussed it,” Phil shrugged, his cheeks tinted a rose shade as he looked around at the room, all of the guys waiting for some sort of confirmation that he is in fact going to be a dad.

“Are you gonna marry her?” Mark was the first to speak up after the long pause of tense silence, Phil's eyes narrowed as he looked over to the boy. “Shut up,” KJ smacked him in the arm. “Be honest we are all thinking it!” Jay laughed which gained him a smack as well.

“She doesn’t want to be together romantically” Philippe shrugged and stared down at his feet, painfully aware of the awkward tension that now filled the air. “Good” Nolan chirped, with a big grin. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I’m the one asking questions” The captain silenced both of the boys.

“Why are we doing this exactly?” Phil sighs and looks around the room at the freshmen who look equally as uncomfortable.

“We are just making sure your interests are where they should be,” Brendan grinned and pointed at the photo of the latest sonogram that happened to be Philippe's Lock Screen, “I mean Phil you’re going to be a dad, this is some life-changing shit!” “I know, and I’m all in, she knows that” “Good, that’s all we needed to hear” Nolan’s patted the boy on the back, a grin on his face as she gently shakes his fellow teammate's shoulders.

“Does this make him daddy?” Dylan joked from the far corner of the room making all of the boys erupt into cheers.

Nick turned to the boy who looked ready to make a run from the locker room as soon as possible, “we mainly just want you to know that we have your back, we’re your team, we’re brothers, so you or her need anything let us know” he nodded at the door, a sign for Phil to final go home to the girl waiting for him.

“Thanks, guys,” he said standing up and walking towards the door, but not before hearing a startling “TEAM BABY!” leave Brendan’s mouth.

-❀-

Championship season came and went, her boys were Big Ten Champs and managed to clinch a spot in the frozen four. But soon after came the time no one was looking forward to.

The boys were off to join the big leagues, literally.

“I’m so mad at you guys right now” she frowned as Matty hugged her once more, "but I'm also so proud of all of you" she smiled into his shoulder.

“We are the worst, we know” Owen mumbled as she walked over to hug him again. A smile spread across her face as she ruffled his outgrown hair, he looked up at her with a wide grin, “at least you’re self-aware.”

Everything was gonna be different, the boys that had been a constant in her life ever since orientation week was leaving. all of them leaving to be on different sides of the country.

"You still have Phil, Truscott, and Holtzy" Kent mumbled as she went over to him once again. All the boys cringed at the sentence as her face dropped, "you really think telling me that I'm stuck with the idiot who knocked me up and the other two smart asses is gonna fix it?" he hugged her to shut hut her up, swaying back and forth as she wrapped her arms around his neck, "I'm about to have a baby and you're all leaving me"

“You need anything ever, call okay,” Thomas said seriously, motioning to all the boys, "we will drop anything to come and fix it" All the boys nodded as she pouted at them, "I love you guys" she said as the tears started.

-❀-

Summer rolled around quickly meaning that it was time for her to head back to St. Clair, Michigan hometown to not only herself but also her favourite freshman Mark Estapa.

"Mark I swear to god drive so carefully," Philippe said putting her suitcase in the back of the frosh's car, "you have precious cargo on board, so help me god if I hear that something happened I will fly down here and kill you with my bare hands Estapa" he warned one last time before placing a kiss to her cheek and lowering himself to her stomach to whisper a few good words of affection.

She looked over to the boy awkwardly standing there and rolled her eyes, Mark smiled and waited for the man to be eye to eye with him once again, "I promise I’ll be careful, you have my word" he said before Philippe pulled him into one of those really awkward side hugs "Good, see you both in a few weeks," he said helping her into the car and shutting the door behind her.

She waved to him through the window before letting out a loud sigh. "he really took to that paternal instinct" Mark joked making her let out a groan her expression filled with annoyance at his already very overwhelming state of panic. "He's gonna be a good dad, he's just nervous" her expression and looked over to Mark who seemed really tense.

There was a question just sitting on the edge of his tongue, he knew it wasn't appropriate to be asking if the expecting mother was still single but since he first met her at a party during his frosh week, he knew he was done for, she was gonna have a chokehold on him until the moment she graduated.

"So are you guys like together now?" "God no," she laughed, he had tried to convince her that it could work out, but she knew it was just wishful thinking, "don't get me wrong he's great, but we just wouldn't work."

Mark nodded awkwardly, the rest of the drive was filled with small talk, and complaints about pregnancy hormones, mark ranted about how messy Ethan kept the dorm, and then they both bitched about the lack of plans that they had over the summer.

"thank you for the drive Mark" she grinned as he pulled up outside her house, she got out of the car and he followed after her, "what are you doing?" she asked as he opened the trunk. "I'm not gonna make a pregnant woman carry her own suitcase," he said like the answer was obvious, as he hoisted the bag out of the trunk and let her lead the way to the front door. "oh" she turned a light shade of pink, "thank you"

she made it to the front door, she hugged mark and bid him goodbye as her mom swung the door open making the two pull away from each other, "oh my god hun you're huge" she said excitedly before pulling her daughter into a hug. "mom this is Mark, Phil's teammate, he drove me home," she said as her mom smiled softly at him. "I remember Mark, I've seen him play," her mom grinned as she said her thanks to the boy and ushered her daughter inside.

"Y'know if it doesn't work out with Philippe, Mark is a cutie" her mom grinned at her as they walked into the kitchen. "Yeah, I guess he's cute" she shrugged and looked at her mom who laughed.

-❀-

Mark was sleeping comfortably wrapped up in the warmth of his comforter before the ringing of his phone startled him awake.

"Uh hello," his voice rasped with sleep as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of his phone screen. "she went into labour early, I need you to go the hospital and make sure she's okay please, I'm trying to get a flight but I won't be there until tomorrow at least" the voice on the other end sounded panicky and out of breath.

"What? who is this?" he looked down at the phone screen to see that it was nearly three in the morning. "Mark it's Phil, she is in labour, I need you to go there and just make sure that she's okay" "Oh shit, yeah I'm on my way, don't worry" he shot up right out of bed and headed straight into his closet.

The drive to the hospital felt like ages, and he didn't even know if she wanted him in the waiting room.

"oh mark honey" her mom pulled him into a hug, excitement running through her veins as she waited in line at the cafeteria for a coffee. "Philippe wanted me to behave to give him updates or something, he's a little nervous about the whole thing," Mark smiled as he bought her and himself a coffee. "He called to let us know, but I'll make sure to let her know that you're here, and well come get you when the baby is here, sound good" she smiled one last time before walking down the hallway.

After a long nap and a lot of groaning while trying to get comfortable on a metal hospital chair, three hours had passed, and a nurse dressed in pink scrubs walked up to the boy and gently tapped the sleeping boy, "Are you mark?" "Uh, yea?" "follow me" she ushered for him to trail behind her, tiredly walking up to the door, "she's in here," the lady said before opening the door and letting mark walk in before shutting the door behind him.

a little baby girl sat in her arms, bundled up in a small yellow blanket, contently sleeping again her chest. "You did that" he whispered as she motioned for him to come closer.

"You really didn't need to sleep out there Phil would have been fine" she mumbled as she looked up at him. "I wanted to, for him, I also wanted to make sure you're okay, plus I now get to rub it in everyone's face that I met it first" he joked as he finally looked at a really tired-looking new mom. "Her name is Florence, little Flo" she mumbled and brushed her thumb against her daughter's cheek, "it's my grandma's name" "It's pretty," he said awkwardly staring at the baby and then back at the mom, his fingers brushing the baby hairs out of her eyes.

"Go wash your hands and you can hold her" she whispered and looked over to the sink, a smile on her lips as she looked back at Mark. "Really? are you sure?" "you slept here overnight, it's the least I could do" she looked up at mark whose face broke out into a toothy smile.

She gently sat up a little to easily pass the baby over to mark, "just make sure to support her head" she whispered as she placed the small baby in his arms. "She looks like you" he mumbled, as he sat in the chair next to the hospital bed, "she has a little resemblance to Phil, but she's just as pretty as her Mama" he mumbled to the baby and then looked up.

An amused expression sat on her face, "you're really flirting with a woman who just gave birth?" "Did it work?" he joked, his fingers playing with the small onesie on the baby. "Not a chance" "It was worth a shot" he couldn't wipe the smile off of his face, a permanent grin on his lips and cheeks stained a light red as his gaze switched between her and the baby.

"I know we aren't that close, but if you or her ever need anything, I will be there always," he said gently looking down at the baby who made a content humming sound as she grabbed a hold of his finger. She looked down at him, her eyes tearful as she watched the two of them interact, "thank you, Mark"

-

-

-

I know it's kind of long and boring, but I just wanted to provide some sort of foundation for the whole series/ au!!

Hope you guys love it

[scariusaquarius]

stay in the magic circle.

Thorin Oakenshield x Fem! Reader

A/n: I should really try to write these up two at a time so I can just post one, write two more, and stay ahead of schedule but lmao. I couldn't think of a better character than Thorin for this, though I did think of using Francis :0 i guess this is sorta a supernatural/hobbit au

WEEK ONE: Mythology, Day 3 - Wendigo

-

Genre: Mythology/Folklore, Angst

Rated: Mature

Warning: Cussing, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Graphic Depictions of Gore, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Graphic Depictions of Cannibalism

-

Author: ScariusAquarius

-

If there was a creature you hated more than anything, it was wendigos. When your father had first taught you about wendigos, you didn't think it would ever be likely that you would have to hunt one.

But in the realm of the supernatural, you should always expect the unexpected.

Your back was against the wall, sweating up a storm and causing your cuts and gashes to burn from the salty fluid seeping into them. Mud and dirt was caked all over your body, and you were trying hard to settle your breathing. From across the cave was blue eyes, wide and filled with apprehension as he looked at you.

You swallowed thickly before whispering, wincing when a loud screeching sounded from deep within the cave tunnels.

"Thorin, are you alright?"

Thorin was clutching his leg, blood seeping between his meaty fingers as he tried to stem the wound, sweat running down his temple.

"I think so. What in Mahal's name is that thing?"

You carefully put a bullet into your gun before shifting a little, grabbing your flame thrower and fumbling for a lighter.

"It's called a wendigo. It's the worst fucking creature to hunt, I swear. Every wendigo was once a man that would resort to cannibalism in a desperate attempt to keep from starving to death. They can be hundreds of years old depending on how much they eat and how often."

The wendigo in the cave screeched again, this time sounding much closer, and Thorin looked nervous.

"Everytime you eat, you just get hungrier and hungrier for it. You start to change until you're no longer human."

Thorin shook his head.

"What a disgusting existence. We don't have creatures like these in my realm."

"Yeah, well, you're also not from a horror story, either."

Thorin nodded as if it made sense, and you finally found your lighter. Just as you lit the flamethrower, there was a gust of wind, and a screech from the entrance. You and Thorin snapped your gazes over to see the wendigo, and you raised both your gun and the flamethrower.

"Stay inside the magic circle, Thorin!"

Thorin gestured to the ground, exclaiming.

"You mean these dirt sigils? How will this protect us?!"

You yelled out as you shot the wendigo in the eye, making it screech.

"I'm a wizard, Harry, that's how!"

"My name isn't Harry!"

You pulled the trigger on the flamethrow, the Wendigo letting out an inhuman scream as it burst into flames, and the hunt was finally over. Panting, your adrenaline began to slow down, and the exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks. Sitting down on the ground, you watched as the wendigo turned to ash, and Thorin asked.

"Is it over?"

"Not just yet. Need to go find my brothers if they haven't already escaped their cages."

Thorin nodded, and you reached into your backpack, pulling out a first aid kit and handing it to him.

"Here, use this to patch your leg up."

Thorin grabbed the bandages from the kit, and he asked as he gestured to the symbols written in the dirt.

"So, are you a sorceress?"

"No. They're sigils that can repel the wendigo. As long as you stay in the magic circle, the monster can't get you."

Thorin nodded before asking.

"Are there sigils for every creature?"

You stood up albeit shakily, and you patted his back.

"Oh, my young grasshopper, you have much to learn. Let's go find my idiot brothers, okay?"

Thorin nodded, and deeper into the caves you two went.

[END DAY 3]

[mynamesaplant]

Yearning for Wood Floors

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just a little short story about @critterbitter's hc of Elesa. This is not too long after her and her dad immigrated to Unova. Elesa is def not bitter about it, I promise 🤞

I'll probably post this to AO3 and I'll update this when I do.

Enjoy!~

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The floor was scuffed and dry, practically ancient judging by each crunch that crackled up Elesa’s spine with each step. The varnish looked more like those potato chips that were served in brightly colored bags at lunch. Yellowish, opaque flecks that made the room feel neglected at best and abandoned at worst.

Floors back in Sinnoh never looked like this.

Elesa’s frown deepened as she toed some of the loose chips at her feet, a spray of prehistoric resin sailed across the room. She stifled a sigh. It was kind of sad really. She remembered the wood floor at her cousin’s house, their mom always kept the floors spotless, and whatever cleaner she used made the house smell fresh and clean.

Things weren’t like this back in Sinnoh.

Aunt Johanna, like every other adult in Sinnoh, had everyone take their shoes off at the door. Elesa was used to padding around in her socks or bare feet, but Aunt Johanna bought her little Pachirisu slippers to wear around her house. That had to help keep the floors nice and clean from whatever was being trekked in from outside. It made sense. Meanwhile, Elesa watched the water puddle on the floor at her dad’s feet from his brogues. The rain had soaked into his laces.

That wouldn’t have happened in Sinnoh.

…

She missed the fuzzy Pachirisu slippers at her cousins’ house.

Elesa’s face scrunched up, her mouth thinning as she tried to suppress the flash of anger she felt toward her dad. He and the woman behind the desk were still talking – not that she could hear, she turned her aids off about ten minutes ago when the adults started getting into the paperwork. Even if her aids were on, it’s not like she could understand them. She didn’t understand Galarian.

Another stupid reason to bring her to Unova.

This office – what had her dad called it? – Unovan Disability Services, it seemed like a forgotten department in the government building. Elesa had pressed close to her father as they waded through the subways, up to pavement level, and through the dense crowds to this innocuous building by the harbor. The crowds were loud and made her feel claustrophobic.

There were so many people here compared to Sinnoh.

This woman was their assigned agent, her assigned agent, and she was here to help Elesa navigate this new environment while she learned Galarian. Elesa flicked her eyes up to the metal name plate. Her blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly in her attempt to read. The strokes and dots looked too limited next to the symbols for kanji she was familiar with.

“This is the agent, Talbot-san.”

What was written had to be her name. It had to be. What else could it be? Elesa might know what the letters said Talbot, but that didn’t mean she really grasped their significance. She offered Talbot-san a smile that didn’t really make in past her eyes, which prompted a sympathetic tut from the woman. Probably because she knew Elesa didn’t understand but might have wrongly assumed she was shy or nervous.

Elesa was mad. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to go home.

She didn’t understand why she couldn’t stay with her mother. Probably because her mother was busy with her work as a ranger. Headquarters deployed her all over the country and sometimes outside it to Fiore or Almia to help teach new rangers or to help with relief efforts after major disasters with displaced people and Pokémon. Elesa wouldn’t be allowed to stay at home alone or to go with her mother due to the nature of her work.

Aunt Johanna, Dawn, and Lucas came over to help them pack. Her dad didn’t even help at all really, Aunt Johanna did most of the work and scolded Elesa when she got frustrated with her dad. Her aunt had sighed and knelt down, lightly gripping her shoulders and giving her a sad smile.

Elesa knew what divorce was, but that wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was understanding why.

“I know you’re upset, but please be patient with your father.”

She wouldn’t understand until later that her dad was heartbroken about his Staraptor. The death of his starter and the divorce with his wife broke him. He needed to start fresh, and Elesa was dragged along for the ride.

Something nudged into her shin, her dad’s work shoes, and she looked up at him. Leaning down, her dad asked Elesa what kind of Pokémon she wanted. That was why they were here after all, to get a starter Pokémon that would be able to assist Elesa on her journey when the time came.

That time couldn’t come soon enough for Elesa.

She had plans to find her way back to Sinnoh no matter what it took.

He kept listing ones she didn’t know. As much as she tried not to let it show, her face screwed up in frustration, because her dad never listened to her. She had a favorite type. His wife knew (her mother had gotten her a novelty pin from the Sunyshore gym giftshop – she treasured that pin). His sister-in-law knew. Why didn’t he?

Why did he drag her here?

She didn’t want to be in Unova.

She missed Sinnoh.

“でんきタイプ.”

Electric.

That’s all she wanted.

Her dad must have conveyed that to Talbot-san because she clapped with delight and brought up a few options for her to pick from. She swiveled her computer monitor toward them. The computer whirred hard enough to be felt through the floorboards, evidently working hard to only show names and no images.

Blitzle

Emolga

Joltik

Tynamo

Elesa just picked the first one, pointing with her finger before returning her gaze to the ground. It didn’t really matter. She always wanted her starter to be a Pachirisu anyway. She stared down at these messy floors, cracked and brittle, and Elesa had to stop the sudden tears that were threatening to drip from the corners of her eyes.

She missed Aunt Johanna. She missed her cousins. She missed Sinnoh.

She missed when her feet didn’t crunch down on hardwood floors like they were browned leaves in the autumn.