#if nothing else it seems like it hurts a hell of a lot less

[solalunar-eclipse]

No-Way Mirror

Inspired by this fantastic comic and a conversation I had with the talented @sharpedgedfool.

TW: blood, minor punctures, brief mention of the sensation of blood being drawn (and of course blood drinking)

Also available to read on AO3!

(This was mostly written before my hiatus began, I just wanted to finish editing it in a semi-reasonable timeframe, ahaha.)

...

Shadow continued to smile wryly after his admission, allowing himself a faint laugh. “The best part is,” he continued, “I can’t even begin to imagine how a vampire would go unnoticed for any length of time. Their teeth are massive, surely anyone bitten by them would scream and get them caught almost immediately?”

What Sonic said next came as a bit of a surprise. “I could show you, if you want.”

Shadow glanced over in confusion, finding that same self-confident smirk still on Sonic’s face. “What?”

“I can show you what a vampire’s bite actually feels like.” he explained, throwing in a cheeky wink for good measure.

Ah. That made more sense. Shadow rolled his eyes. Sonic was probably trying to goad him into a fight of some sort or another—or perhaps even being flirtatious. He did tend to match Rouge’s energy at times, though this was the first instance Shadow had noticed where he had done so without the bat being directly present.

Well, he had been at the party for a while anyway, and he was tired enough of socializing that he was willing to humor Sonic, for his own entertainment if nothing else.

He pushed off the wall, shrugging. “Sure. Why not?”

The blue hedgehog’s eyes widened, and Shadow took a bit of pride in having thrown off his companion. “Really? I mean, heck yeah, man!” Sonic grinned, leading him towards the back of the house. This wasn’t his place, it was Amy’s, meaning both that Sonic probably knew it almost as well as his own and that Shadow was distinctly less willing to tear it up than he might have been if it were Sonic’s home.

Once they’d made their way down the hall and into a side room, Shadow raised a skeptical eyebrow at Sonic. “So, what’s this ‘vampire bite’ supposed to feel like, exactly?”

Instead of replying, Sonic took a deep breath, steadying himself—

—and then lunged.

Shadow was practically thrown backwards, only catching himself half upright on the desk that happened to be by the window. A sharp, pinching pain radiated from his neck, but it soon settled down into a duller yet persistent ache.

Had that moron actually gone and bitten him as a joke?!

For a fraction of a second, Shadow was prepared to tear into Sonic, both verbally and also physically if necessary, but then he noticed something else that left his limbs feeling oddly as if they’d been filled with lead.

The teeth currently buried in his neck were…very sharp. And, now that he was thinking about it, very long, especially for a hedgehog that hadn’t been genetically modified like him. Shadow had gotten his blood drawn enough times in his life to know what the sensation of blood leaving his body felt like, and he could also feel that in his veins.

Okay. New assessment of the situation. Sonic was, quite possibly, an actual vampire. Which meant that vampires were real. And Sonic was currently drinking his blood.

Shadow wasn’t really sure what to make of all this. He didn’t exactly want to try and rip two vampire fangs out of his neck—while he would heal fast enough that his health wouldn’t be a concern, it would hurt a hell of a lot worse than it currently did.

Thankfully, before he could think much farther than that, Sonic seemed to rouse himself slightly. He shifted a little, exhaled against Shadow’s neck (and wasn’t that a whole host of other things the hybrid would prefer to never unpack), and then slowly retracted his teeth.

Almost nervously, Sonic took a few steps backwards, his lips stained a green that would normally have been only a shade or two lighter than his eyes. Right now, though, his irises burned as crimson as Shadow’s. That was a little odd considering he hadn’t just consumed red blood, but Shadow had already been made quite pointedly aware that his knowledge about vampires was severely lacking.

“Um.” Sonic said, the picture of eloquence as always. “…I kinda expected you to throw me through a window by now.”

Shadow blinked. “Why?”

“I dunno, maybe ‘cause I just bit ya and drank your blood for a solid ten seconds?” Sonic shot back, but his raised quills made the comment seem less like a quip and more like an accusation. Accusing who, the hybrid hedgehog wasn’t sure.

“Honestly, I…just can’t find it in myself to be all that bothered,” Shadow said, still feeling a bit distant and bewildered.

Sonic frowned, stepping forward again to look more closely at Shadow. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t take enough for you to be dealing with blood loss, but you seem kinda out of it.”

Shadow looked away, paying a little more attention to how he was feeling for a moment. “I think I’m just overwhelmed.” he explained softly. “I was already beginning to feel a bit strained from the party, and this is…not bad, necessarily, just a lot to process on top of all that.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.” Sonic looked uncomfortable and guilty, and Shadow didn’t particularly enjoy seeing him that way.

“Here,” he offered, “why don’t you walk me home? That way I have more time to ask you some questions in a place that isn’t keeping either of us cooped up.” A place that isn’t keeping you from stretching your legs, Shadow didn’t say, but heavily implied.

A soft half-smile, so unlike his usual cocky smirks, spread across Sonic’s face. “That sounds great, honestly.”

The two of them left through the back door, each texting their friends to let them know that they were leaving early. Despite the fact that Sonic had a lot more people to message, he finished at about the same time as Shadow, given that he was rather less concerned about any minor spelling errors and tended to type much more quickly.

They walked in silence together for a little while, Shadow gratefully taking the time to process what had happened.

So, Sonic’s a vampire. What now?

…well, do I really even have to do anything? Sure, he drinks blood, but he has far too strict of a moral code to actually hurt anyone permanently. And he’s been a vampire this entire time, long before I knew, and there haven’t been any problems, so…I suppose this doesn’t really change much at all.

It seemed the silence was too good to last, though, because Sonic spoke up. “Hey, uh…sorry. About drinkin’ your blood a little, back there. I really figured you’d, like, punch me in the face or Chaos Blast me off or something.”

Shadow blinked, drawn suddenly out of his thoughts, and accidentally said the first thing that came to mind. “I honestly forgot I could do that.”

Sonic let out a laugh that was half genuine, half disbelieving. “You forgot? How’d you forget about the thing that literally only you can do?”

“I just did.” Shadow insisted, only barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his companion. “And if you’re so sorry about it, then why didn’t you pull off as soon as you realized I wasn’t reacting?”

“I didn’t think I’d even get that far, really.” Sonic shrugged, and Shadow shot him a half-hearted glare.

“It wasn’t a date, Sonic, it was you biting my neck.” he retorted flatly.

The blue hero laughed again, this time a proper unrestrained cackle. “Aw, what, should I take you out to dinner next time first?”

Shadow nearly stopped walking, only just catching himself. “Maybe I ought to bite you ‘next time’, we’ll see how you like it.”

“Aw, c’mon, you wouldn’t bite lil’ old me, would you?” Sonic batted his eyelashes innocently, his fanged grin completely undercutting the image he was trying to portray.

Shadow had a feeling that Sonic was hoping to goad him into insisting that he would, so instead he tried a different tack, looking to throw the other off. “I suppose you’re right, given that I’m a vegetarian.” he said, adding a pointed, “unlike somebody currently present.”

Sonic abruptly started pouting, an expression Shadow didn’t often see on his face. “Hey, normally I’d just snag a few blood bags from the hospital! That’s at least better, right?”

“You what.” This time Shadow actually did stop walking.

The sharp tone of his voice alone had Sonic freezing mid-stride as well. “I mean, it—it’s not really that many! And I only take the ones that’re gonna expire, I swear!” He held his hands up defensively.

The hybrid let out a sigh. “Still, people might need those. Frankly, I’d rather have you bite me again than keep on raiding hospitals.”

Sonic’s uncharacteristic silence made Shadow hesitate. He looked at the vampire properly, only to see him wearing an expression that looked a little like someone had just smacked him with a live fish.

“You’d let me feed from you? Like, for real?” he asked, blinking and shaking his head as if to make sure he hadn’t just imagined Shadow’s words.

“I would.” Shadow insisted. “I can regenerate blood much more quickly than most people, so you might even be able to take more than you could from a hospital’s blood stores. It’s a win-win. You get a meal without the theft and uncertainty, and I get to know that you’re not stealing from hospitals anymore.”

Sonic stared at him in disbelief for a moment longer, before smiling more genuinely than he had throughout the entire rest of the night. “I’d—I’d honestly really appreciate that.” he said, rocking back on his heels.

Shadow nodded in agreement. “I’ll send you a message at some point to schedule a time, then, unless you get hungry soon. If so, you can text me—but don’t pretend to be hungry when you’re not!” he added quickly. “I’ll be able to figure it out if you do.”

“Cross my heart, I won’t!” Sonic said, doing the associated motion for bonus effect and adding a wink at the end. Clearly religious symbols (at least from human traditions) weren’t as good at dispelling vampires as they were made out to be.

“You’d better not.” Shadow scoffed lightly. “Now then, where—” he continued, looking around for a street sign, only to realize— “oh. This is my street.”

The vampire frowned unhappily. “Aw man, already?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing me again before long.”

It was almost comical how quickly Sonic perked up. “Hey, good point! I’ll be seein’ ya ‘round soon, Shads!”

He dashed off before Shadow could even begin the sentence “Don’t call me that,” which was heard only by the empty space around him.

Shadow let out a tired sigh, and walked the last few meters to the front door of the building where Rouge’s apartment was. The receptionist at the front desk gave him a slightly odd look, but he paid them no mind as he stepped into the elevator, allowing himself to lean against the back wall only once the doors were closed.

He shut his eyes and exhaled. He didn’t regret making that offer, not one bit, but if every subsequent vampire encounter was going to be as draining (pun not intended) as this one had been, he might need to schedule them even more carefully than he’d originally thought.

Once the elevator arrived at the correct floor, he shuffled over to the apartment door and unlocked it with practiced ease, stepping inside and instantly beginning to shed his costume. It was only once he’d removed his cape that he caught sight of himself in the mirror and did a double-take.

There was an acid-green stain on the right shoulder of his shirt, marring the pristine white material. Shadow stepped closer to the mirror and took a closer look. Indeed, there were two puncture holes in the shirt’s neck on that side, showing exactly what had caused the stain.

Sonic had probably gotten saliva on his nice shirt too, the idiot. Shadow huffed in mild irritation as he pulled it off, heading to his room to hide the damage. He would see if it was salvageable tomorrow.

If not, then it seemed that he would be insisting upon a suitable replacement from Sonic the moment that vampire scheduled his first feeding session.

~~~~~~~~~~

AN: I said it on my reblog of the original comic, but I’ll say it again here as well—if you liked this, then please check out Orion’s Fleetway and Shadow series! It’s very similar, very well-written, and much longer than this small piece.

[roisnoir]

OMG.

I just had someone legitimately tell me I was using too many "big words" and she didn't understand them.

The words in question were "medical" "survey" and "confidential" This person is an office manager at a cosmetic medicine practice.

My mother lied to me. Cute and Stupid really DOES cut it.

headsmashyheadsmashyheadsmashy

[c-is-for-circinate]

It feels like there's this narrative that fandom keeps wanting to explore, with Steve Harrington, about this very specific type of martyrdom where self-sacrifice is an expression of a lack of self-worth. And, like, yes, write the narrative that's meaningful to you, and yes ok Steve does admittedly get beaten up a lot, but -- legitimately I do not think this narrative is actually Steve's story.

Like, without gendering things too much, there is something in the Steve fanon that I keep seeing that's so reflective of the specific kind of sacrifice and societal pressures exerted on girls, specifically -- this story of 'you make yourself worthy and worthwhile by carving pieces out of yourself', of believing that you must always give and never receive to justify the space you take up in the world. Yes, boys can experience this same pressure (and obviously trans and nb people of all genders run into it as well! sometimes a lot!), but especially in the mid-1980s cultural context where Stranger Things takes place, it's just...really not likely to be a dominant narrative for Steve to be operating under? It doesn't even really match the Steve we see on screen -- who is happy to make sacrifices for the sake of others, yeah, when needed, but who's not particularly kind or giving unless somebody asks first.

And Steve does get hurt a lot on other people's behalf! And this is a problem! It's just a completely different problem than the one fandom keeps writing.

Steve, and I'm going to say this forever, is a story about toxic masculinity, which the show may or may not even know it's writing. The archetypes influencing Steve's character as it shows up on the screen (and the stories and messages that Steve would actually be surrounded by in his actual life) are not deconstructions of suffering heroes who never should have had to fight in the first place and were destroyed by it. That's the Buffy the Vampire Slayer story. Steve's not Buffy. Steve's cultural context is Indiana Jones.

Steve is The Guy! And part of being The Guy is that you're expected to take the hits -- not because Steve is less important than the women-and-children he's supposed to protect, but because, the story says, he will get less hurt. Why should Steve get in between Billy and Lucas? Because Steve is an eighteen-year-old athlete and Lucas is in middle school, and of the two of them, Steve actually stands a chance. (And yes, Steve got badly hurt there, and Max had to save him -- but if Lucas, if Max had taken that beating they would not have been running through those tunnels later.) Was somebody else better-qualified to dive down to the uncertain bottom of a cold lake in the middle of the night? Steve doesn't list his credentials there as a way of justifying some ideal of martyrdom; he is literally the most likely person on the boat not to drown.

And make no mistake: when Steve's pulled into the Upside-Down, he survives the bats long enough for backup to get there. Realistic or not, he's apparently tough enough that he's physically capable of hiking barefoot through hell without much slowing down. Steve is the tank for the same reason as any tank: because he literally has been shown to have the most hit points in the group. You cannot honestly engage with Steve in this context without dealing with the fact that he's right.

AND THIS IS A PROBLEM! This is still a problem! But it's not the same problem that fandom seems to expect. It's not an expression of caretaking or the need for self-sacrifice; it's not an issue with Steve valuing himself less. It's an issue of toxic masculinity so ingrained that Steve doesn't even recognize he's suffering from it, because one of the tenets of toxic masculinity is that Big Strong Guys don't suffer. It's just a concussion, it's fine, he'll walk it off. It's not that Steve thinks he deserves to get hurt, or even that he's less deserving of safety than the others. It's that absolutely nothing in his cultural context allows him to admit that he can be hurt in a significant way.

There's still so much tension that can be gotten out of this situation, I swear. There's so much that can be explored in writing! Hell, the show itself is deconstructing some of this trope, believe it or not, by giving us a Steve who absolutely can take all the hits thrown his direction but still doesn't know what the fuck he's doing with his life. It turns out that doing his job as The Guy is only mildly helpful in horror movie situations (mostly by buying time for smarter, squishier people to do the damage from behind him), and somewhere a little worse than useless in everyday life.

But Steve does not go out of his way to self-sacrifice, he really doesn't. He just does his job. He's The Guy. Of course he's not going to let a kid or a girl or some scared skinny nerd who just learned about monsters yesterday take the hits. Of course Steve's got this.

[galedekarios]

this is a personal vent post so please let me just get it all out without trying to come at me lol:

so many ppl saying they respect larian's decision to peace out and not deal with hasbro/wotc, but i have to be honest, i don't respect them at all.

they are leaving a game behind that is unfinished and a narrative mess.

they leave a game behind where everyone paid the same amount of money for it, yet depending on which character you prefer, you get less content.

the disparity between everyone else and their writer's pet ast*rion is insane. he has a half to a third more content depending on which character you compare him to.

they leave behind a sparse act 2, which is already so barren compared to act 1 and all it had to offer. act 3 is a narrative mess and lacks structure.

they leave a game behind where they made promises a handful of weeks before release where they ought to have known that they, in fact, will not be delivering said promises: access to the upper city, consequences for playing certain races across the acts (playing a drow is going to be different in act 1 and gives you advantages vs act 3 where it would give you understandable disadvantages), etc etc etc.

they leave behind a game where content was cut from the companions to make it seem like the origins have something to offer when that system is barely able to compare what origin playthroughs offered in dos2 and it hurts the game and the experience (like tara being cut for companion gale).

they leave behind a game where they promised to much variety and proclaimed in panels from hell how they struggled to show the width and depth of the game, but really? it's about as deep as a puddle. a lot of the choices do not matter. kill ethel? nah, she's alive and well in the city. no sister hags to be angry here. give karlach no infernal iron and never talk to her at all? doesn't matter, she'll survive until the end of act 3 and will still call you her bff. dissuade gale to use the orb? we'll make sure he'll still offer 3 more times just in case. send yenna away from camp bc you don't want her there? doesn't matter, she'll stay. and yes, i'm aware these are all small things, but they are part of a larger problem. almost nothing you do truly matters to the point of where i just skip most things in act 1 and 2 now.

they leave behind a game that they promise to still patch, but some things have been broken since early access / release to the point of where i'm like i'm sorry, but your word that you will continue to patch things means about as much to me as all the other empty promises. the dialogue about morena dekarios is still broken and it's been over half a year now. the astral sea scene has low-res body textures for months. i know from mutuals who love minthara that her romance is still broken. and i could go on and on.

and what gets me the most about this is all is that they have learned nothing at all from dos2: act 3 of that game was so bugged and all over the place that i couldn't muster up the motivation to finish it the first time i played. they neglected a character to the point of where he could have been removed from the game or made a general hireling (beast).

those issues were at least attempted to be fixed in the definitive edition.

with swen saying that there will be no new content anymore and stating that both bg3 and its characters are now property of wotc/hasbro, it seems unlikely we'll even get an attempt of a fix.

so what this boils down to to me is just another game company not delivering on their promises after overselling their product and more or less abandoning it after a year to move onto the next big thing.

i don't think i can respect that ngl.

[picaroroboto]

For the past couple days, I've been unfortunately cursed with thinking about Zenos yae Galvus. I don't even particularly like him - not that I dislike him either, Zenosfuckers you can put your scythes down - but it seems to me like a lot of the fandom either greatly misunderstands him, or doesn't even care to try to understand him, which from an objective standpoint as someone who cares deeply about writing in video games kind of pisses me off. But I'm more pissed about the fact that I'm apparently going to keep thinking about this issue until I actually write a character analysis of him.

Q: "But, what even is there to analyze with him? Isn't he all about wanting to fight the WoL and nothing else?"

Well, you wouldn't be wrong with saying that. That motivation is at the forefront of his character, and even if you look closer, everything about him comes back to either "violence" or "lack of understanding of others". But there are more meaningful sides to his deceptively simple character. That question of meaning is what I really want to look into - what does his character mean, what symbolic or thematic role does he play in this story?

Q: "Better question: why are you posting this on your art blog/Fate meta sideblog?"

Good question, with a stupid answer: I have all of 6 followers on my FF14 sideblog, and around 150 here. Let's go under the cut so they don't have to read a wall of text, unless they want to.

When you look at and compare FF14's villains, you can see a very clear change, no doubts thanks to the change in main writers. ARR Gaius and Thordan are more or less two-bit villains - Gaius's memeable iconic Praetorium speech gives us insight into how fascists try to justify themselves but little into Gaius's actual personality, while all Thordan gets as far as depth of character is an NPC in a sidequest remarking that he wasn't always a bad person and was probably doing what he thought best for his nation. Nidhogg is a little more understandable, since revenge is a relatable motivation to anyone who's been hurt by others. In Stormblood, Zenos and Yotsuyu are both presented as deserving of pity even as they do terrible things. Come Shadowbringers and Endwalker though, the story takes a greater interest on why villains like Emet-Selch and Elidibus do the things they do, and the player is allowed more options to try to understand them and see how similar they are to the WoL. Hell, Hermes and the Endsinger are barely "villains" at all, with the level of sympathy the story shows them.

What I'm getting to here is that Zenos, with half his arc in Stormblood and the rest in Endwalker, is sort of caught in the middle of this shift. He played the role of the rival character in Stormblood really well, but come Endwalker, he's standing on a stage full of heroes and villains with grand causes and deep motivations, as the guy whose sole motivation is fighting for pleasure.

It seems he's not unaware of this contrast himself - when Jullus confronts him for ruining Garlemald for no good reason, he retorts with "Would you be happier had I a good reason?" Zenos makes no attempt to justify his own actions and doesn't care that his reason seems incomprehensible and unforgivable to others. Yet in that same cutscene Alisaie hits him with the fact that if he keeps living solely for pleasure, he'll die alone. When next we see Zenos, he's alone at the Royal Menagerie waxing philosophical about what he really sought in the battle with the WoL.

See, what really motivates Zenos isn't just the thrill of battle - this guy has gotten Battle High and the joy of human connection confused. Really.

Even before he gets so perturbed by the idea of dying alone, there's other suggestions, like his proposal of friendship to the WoL when they fought in Stormblood, and then later his dying words in which he explains that he never understood others - at his core, he's just lonely. I know there's an official side story that tells it, but you don't need to know the exact details to glean that he had some sort of tragic backstory. Sad, but not a surprise, considering he's the prince of the Garlean Empire, raised to take the throne and continue the Empire's legacy of violence.

At his core, he's a very lonely person, but also a thing of violence, raised using violent methods for the purpose of causing more violence. Violence is how he lives and breathes - the only way he gets any sort of connection with others in a world of hurting and being hurt is the brief connection warriors dueling as equals can sometimes find. Don't deny that this sort of connection exists - FF14 is great at making fights that are both fun and tell a story. Hence, why he goes crazy for the WoL, but also refers to them as "friend". In their fights, he senses (or thinks he senses) similarity between him and them. Beneath all the madness is a pure, genuine joy in seeing the self reflected in the other...but he also instantly gets on the train to projection-town, population Zenos, and assumes the WoL is exactly like him, ignoring or failing to notice that they also fight for deeper meanings. The worst part is, he doesn't even notice that what he's actually seeking in fighting them is connection until Alisaie's aforementioned callout.

So he goes and angsts for a while, then turns into a dragon again and flies across the universe to help us kick the Endsinger's tail feathers, then issues his challenge for that duel he'd been longing for. But what's changed is that he starts with a question - "Such pleasures you sought for their own sake, and for no other reason, is that not so?". Dying after the duel, he's full of questions too: "Was your life a gift or a burden? Did you find fulfillment?" Alisaie's suggestion that he'd die alone actually spurred him to realize what he actually sought in the WoL, and now he's asking all these questions in an attempt to, for the first time in his life, genuinely connect with another human being.

The questions aren't important just because they're a sign of how Zenos has changed in Endwalker - they're actually the thematic heart of Endwalker! ARR may have had "Answers" as it's theme, but EW is the expac of questions. Namely the biggest question of all: What is the meaning of life? Different characters have different answers to that, leading to the grand-scale symbolic conflict being the Endsinger's despair - her belief that there is no meaning in life - versus whatever reasons the WoL chooses to live for, left, as always, up to player interpretation.

When you look deeper, Zenos isn't actually as out-of-place in the symbolic conflict as he first seems. His depressed worldview - that metaphor about drowning in a swamp again - seems to align with the Endsinger's view about life being meaningless. But he aids the WoL in defeating her. In that way he serves as part of the answer to her question about the meaning of life. He may have resented life at times, but he still found meaning in chasing pleasure. Not the strongest or most beautiful reason to deny oblivion, perhaps, but it did enable him to help the WoL triumph. I think of Zenos's philosophy as being connected to the concept of "Amor Fati"...largely because this quote explaining it sounds like something he'd say, or at least agree with on some level:

"and if our soul has trembled with happiness and sounded like a harp string just once, all eternity was needed to produce this one event—and in this single moment of affirmation all eternity was called good, redeemed, justified, and affirmed."

So he does have a meaningful role in Endwalker, as the "Amor Fati" against the Endsinger's "Memento Mori". I think that in this the story shows that his reason for living, while somewhat shallow, is not necessarily a morally wrong thing in and of itself (setting aside for a second all the people he hurt in his pursuit of that). It's just that, since it is a lonely pursuit that denies everything except for his target, it still feels empty. The core of the counterargument against the Endsinger's despair is that both pleasure and fulfillment are necessary to live a meaningful life in a meaningless universe, and that's why Zenos is here in Endwalker. Why he even exists in the story in the first place.

Even if you're one of the people who deeply hates Zenos...well, you probably wouldn't have read this whole thing if you did, but I still think it's important to read into characters you dislike, because every character in a story is written for a reason. Plus, trying to understand even their worst enemies is one of the WoL's key traits as of ShB and EW. With his last breaths, Zenos was trying to understand the WoL too - carrying this understanding of him with you as we move into our next adventures is the least you can do for your "friend".

[jals-stuff]

a routine.

Orter Madl x f!reader

Obnoxious, sour, call him whatever you want, Orter Mádl couldn't care less about what people thought of him. You can’t help but wonder if that’s what you find attractive, or if you just have a thing for authoritative, serious-looking jerks (because I do).

Warnings: slight angst? orter is a jerk, hurt (just a bit) with comfort, reader being too nice.

Word count: 3.4k words

Note: again with no sleep, sorry for any spelling mistakes, don't stone me to death. thought about making a part 2 for this, no clue yet let me know what y'all think. (i swear i have never simped for a man that hard before)

definitions at the end, but it doesn't matter if you don't read them so no worries! enjoy-

Indeed, Orter was a man who would sweat for the status quo to be protected. If this man had his name on an alignment chart, the creators would have to make up something like “lawful lawful”. That is how lawful Orter Mádl gets. It didn’t matter to him how people perceived him, or whispered to each other whenever they saw him walk through the large corridors of the Bureau of Magic. Few things mattered to him in fact, but if he had to put them into a list, it would look like this:

Making sure rules and order are respected

Staying undisturbed during working hours (and out of working hours, too)

Not doing anything unnecessary.

He had a very specific routine he followed almost perfectly everyday, and so far, nothing had pushed him to change it. No one had, either, because from an ordinary person’s point of view, Orter was nothing else than a sour workaholic, strict, obnoxious man. Most women (and some men as well) who worked at the Bureau always seemed to look to the ground when crossing his path, while the other ones were too busy gossiping about him being a potential serial killer, since he was “so calm and quiet”. But one (wo)man’s trash is another (wo)man’s treasure and surely enough, you were one hell of a hungry raccoon lady. 

You had been working at the Bureau for almost a year now, and since the very first time your eyes had landed on him, you knew he was the one you wanted. And since that day, you were one of the only people who even dared speak to him— if you don’t count the other Divine Visionaries as people (because Kaldo’s… obsession¹ with honey made him a creature, and not a human being, we have to be honest here). 

You’d always greet Orter when meeting him in the morning, or wish him to have a nice break time when he’d actually allow himself to take a break, and he would simply greet you back, always giving you the same confused look. Simply seeing him illuminated your days and kept you going through your seemingly unending workload. Yet, as much as you enjoyed these small interactions, the same couldn’t be said about him. 

Orter didn’t dislike these despite the way he looked down at you everytime you greeted him. He simply wasn’t used to such… fervour² from any of his other colleagues. You were certainly very passionate, and he had to put in a lot of effort not to just immediately send you away whenever you’d bring him coffee when you had free time or simply try to chat a little when you were to give him a report. 

It wasn’t against you or anything specifically, but Orter was a firm believer that saving energy was the move. After all, why bother doing anything that is unnecessary? 

Even if it, indeed, was nothing personal, you were pretty much everything he disliked. Noisy, talkative, full of energy, sPEED, and quite naive as well. The embodiment of a child who has been given too much sugar and is now experiencing the zoomies. 

And so, like an uninvited grain of sand in his eye, you slithered your way into his daily routine. Each morning, before entering his office, he knew he would encounter you at this specific time of the morning shift, by turning this corner. It happens everyday, and it will happen again today. He knows you get your break at 10:05 am and usually will knock on his office door at exactly 10:11 am to bring him your reports as well as some coffee you grabbed for him.

He knows that in the afternoon, usually between 3:48 pm and 4 pm, you’ll find an excuse— any excuse to bring him some pastries, or any kind of snack with another cup of coffee, but this time a bit more sugary. 

He has gotten used to it now, but he still cannot quite understand why you’re spending so much energy on him, and when Orter doesn’t understand something, he gets frustrated. He does not often interact with anyone, and so the fact that people around him might have feelings is completely unbeknownst to him, or so it seems. 

...

It’s approximately 4pm on that day and, as usual, you knock on his door. He looks up from his paperwork and just mutters to come in, knowing damn well it’s you. But this time, you’re not bringing any coffee or snacks. You just hand him a report you had written, as usual, and he notes that you look a little nervous.

You patiently wait for him to read through your carefully written report. He gives a nod, not even a word, as usual, and this time, instead of immediately leaving, you decide to speak up.

“Umm..” you start, and you start wondering whether this is a good idea or not. He’s looking at you now, in all of his cold, emotionless expression. “So… would you maybe… like to have your coffee break with me this time…?” you ask, looking away a little bit.

He leans against his chair’s backrest at the suggestion. He could definitely use a break and some coffee right now, but he isn’t sure if he can take the amount of energy you’ll be talking with for the whole duration of your time together.

“With you?” He asks, and you’re unsure if he means this in a mocking way, or if he’s just asking. You shyly nod and he adjusts the position of his glasses a little bit. “I could use a break,” he starts “but I’m not sure I can handle more of your… eagerness to converse³.”

It hurts quite a lot; you knew Orter had always been blunt, but to hear it from his mouth was something else. Were you really bothering him that much? Maybe he didn’t mean it in a bad way? After all, he did have a lot of work, and of course he’d like to free his mind a little bit and enjoy peaceful silence with his afternoon coffee. He quickly takes note of your nervous squirming and your lack of response.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he finally says after what seemed like an eternity “I don’t want this headache to get any worse.”

A headache. Was this really all you were to him?

“I.. can stay quiet if you’d like me to, but I would really like to have—”

“No, thank you. I’ll have coffee on my own. ” He cuts you off, looking back to his paperwork, probably very oblivious to the fact that he just hurt you deeply. “I don’t understand why you’re so eager to interact with me when all I’m really asking for is to be undisturbed.” Was it personal, or was it because of his lack of human interaction? Well, both meant the same to you, if you really were the only person he interacted with, it was directly against you.

You didn’t know what to say. You wouldn’t give up on him, of course, but your entire personality had just proven to be a nuisance to him, and you weren’t sure how you’d recover from this one. You had been standing for a minute, looking at the ground in front of his desk, before his authoritative voice you loved so much pulled you out of your overthinking.

“Anything else?”

You shake your head ‘no’ and promptly exit his office now. It sounded clear to you that you were a disturbance to him, and it was the complete opposite of what you wanted to be. But again, no matter how bad his rejection felt, you decided you’d be a little more like he wished you’d be: invisible, silent.

You made a mental note to change your behaviour around him and stop being so clingy and noisy all the time, then maybe, if you destroyed this personality of yours he seemed to loathe, maybe he would look at you. Even just once.

...

Orter arrives at the Bureau the next day as usual, and already knows you’ll be just around the corner where he meets you everyday. He gives a sigh and walks around… to find no one. He blinks a few times in surprise, but simply assumes you’ll be somewhere else, ready to greet him…. But there’s no sign of you. Or rather there is one, but it’s only the usual morning coffee you give him, and it’s sitting on his desk inside his office. You, on the other hand, aren’t here.

“Probably a different schedule today.” he thinks and quickly dismisses it to sit at his desk and remove his coat. He takes a few sips of the warm coffee and sighs before diving into his unending paperwork again.

As expected, there is a knock on his door at 10:11 am. He lets you come in and is pleased to see you’re still bringing him some coffee, along with your usual report. You quietly greet him and hand him the papers as you put the tall coffee cup on his desk, and await his review. Again, he gives you a nod and puts the papers back into his drawer, and as he looks up from his paperwork again to listen to your usual morning talk, he’s surprised to see you leave his office without a word.

“Probably has more work today.” he thinks, dismissing the change in your behaviour as the man sinks into his paperwork once more. You, on the other side, are only hoping your efforts aren’t vain. You’ve practised staying silent for a bit and you think you’re nailing it, honestly. All for the sake of the obnoxious, lawful man.

It doesn’t occur to him even once that you might be in emotional pain from his words; he isn’t well versed with other people’s feelings— and probably not his own either. You probably have more work today, and that’s why you’re not as talkative as usual. Or maybe you’re tired. Are you sick?

He stops himself for a second and takes off his glasses to rub his eyes a little; no. No, no. It shouldn’t matter to him whether you are ill or simply tired. He has too much work to do to care about one of his coworkers.

Roughly around 3:50 pm, you knock on his door again, bringing in the usual pastries and sweet coffee. Now, he’s wondering which excuse you found to visit him as he crosses his hands on his desk and looks at you intently.

His eyes on you start to feel uncomfortable. It’s like he’s tearing your soul open and trying to figure out what’s going on in this little skull of yours⁴, and really, it isn’t just an impression. He was expecting you to ask him out again, or talk about the weather, complain about your workload, but none of these words escape your mouth. A simple, polite “have a good afternoon”, and you’re gone immediately.

Your schedule must really be something else for you to quit pestering him about your state of mind like you used to do. But again, he takes a bite of the delicious pastries you brought him, and keeps working in religious silence as he occasionally takes a sip of the sweet coffee you delivered.

Time flies fast, and it’s already evening. You clock out, as one does, and as you walk away from your office, you encounter Orter, who seems to be clocking out at the same time. And this is when the overthinking kicks in. Is he going to think you waited for him? Will he believe it was a mere coincidence? What if he thinks you’re being clingy and annoying for clocking out at the same time? 

But your thoughts come to an end as he simply walks away without a word; maybe he just doesn’t care. Right, maybe he just doesn’t care. It probably didn't matter whether you were quiet or talkative, hyper or calm. He probably didn’t care.

...

The next morning, you arrive earlier at the Bureau, as you did yesterday, and fulfil your morning routine: getting a few snacks for yourself, and a tall coffee for Orter. But unfortunately, the cafeteria is a bit more crowded than usual, and you end up exiting it at the same time you usually did. 

He encounters you again at the very same corner, and he is now convinced you simply had a rough schedule yesterday, but as he was about to greet you, you simply hand him the coffee and walk away towards your office without a word. 

The day goes on like the previous one; you barely exchange any words with him, and he makes no effort to change this. You’re quiet, reserved now, and you just internally pray that he will like you more. This isn’t you, but you will be whoever he wants you to be, if there’s the slightest chance that he will look at you.

What you were completely clueless about was how this little change of yours was affecting him. At first he didn’t think much of it, but he had gotten used to your nonstop talking, to your cheerful voice when you greeted him, and to the very specific hours you’d come to visit him and ask him out or talk about everything and nothing. 

Orter was going nuts. The routine he had gotten used to was crumbling for reasons unknown, and he couldn’t understand why, it was beyond his power. The grain of sand in his eye⁵ had become an entire desert, and the frustration was great enough that he could barely focus on his work anymore. Something was missing. He needed to figure it out quickly.

His focus was long gone, and all he could think about was why the usual, cheerful girl who always greeted him with a smile and warm coffee had become so… dull and painfully normal. Had you been sick the whole time? Why did he even care in the first place?

But as much as he disliked admitting it, he had grown quite fond of your behaviour, even though his words had proven to oppose this fact. He needed to make sure of what was lacking in his daily routine now. You were still here, you still brought him coffee everyday, did your job correctly… What could be missing?

His mind was a complete mess and he could not get you out of his head for some reason, which made him even more annoyed. You were such a headache and a nuisance, right? He couldn’t possibly be going insane from the lack of… you?

As usual, at 10:11 am sharp, you visit his office with your daily report and his coffee. This time though, he doesn’t take the papers from your hands and just crosses his legs, looking straight into your eyes. “I would like you to read it out loud for me.”

Read it out? You ask yourself, why couldn’t he read it himself? But again, we are talking about Orter Mádl; this man could tell you to get on all fours and bark, and you would gladly do it without giving it a second thought.

“...right.” You started, a little confused at his sudden request. “The Bureau’s investigation on Magol Castle…”

Your words grew distant to him, but not your voice. He wasn’t listening, he was listening. He felt himself oddly soothed at your tone, for once, as he kept trying to find this missing piece of the jigsaw. But it was as if his focus had returned and he could finally get back to work. As soon as you stopped talking, he extended a hand for you to give him the reports, and you did.

“Good, very good. I’ll read it again later.”

You stood in awe for a second; Orter had just praised you. Your efforts were working, and now you just had to keep going and stay quiet most of the time. You gave a polite nod and walked away from his desk. 

“Wait.”

That was it. You were the missing piece. But it made no sense, since you hadn't left, you were still here with him at the very moment... but then why did it feel like you weren't?

You turn around as you hear him speak and you just stand there, waiting for him to keep going. The silence is heavy and it seems like an eternity before he finally speaks up again.

“You’ve been… quiet.” He remarks, his eyes never leaving yours, and you couldn’t tell whether he meant this in a good or a bad way. Of course, his expressions always suggested that everything he said was to be taken in a bad way, but you knew better than to assume anything, especially about Orter Mádl. “Why?” he asks, and there’s an undertone of desperation in his voice. He sounds like he’s at his wit’s end.

At this point, you can’t really do anything else than speak up and tell the truth, can you? So you take a few steps towards his desk and nervously fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“I… do not wish to be a nuisance or give you a headache.” You simply reply, in all of your honesty, and he looks at you, clueless and distraught now. Was that the reason why you had been silent the entire time? Were you driving him completely crazy because of what he said to you?

He buries his face in his hands and sighs. His glasses were slightly falling from his nose now that his hands were rubbing it entirely. You walk around his desk and gently push his glasses back in place, his state worrying you a little bit. You had never seen him being affected by anything before, so you were a bit confused.

“Are you alright..?” You quietly asked, not daring to touch him too much, lest he’d find you clingy, but the man sighed loudly once again and cleared his throat, his hands crossing against his desk again.

“You are driving me insane, (Y/N).”

You’ve never heard him speak your name before, and it felt… rather nice. You couldn’t tell if his words were meant to be good or bad though, so you only stood next to him and waited for him to speak up again. An uninvited feeling of guilt made its way to your heart and you couldn’t help but feel like all of this was your fault. You only wanted him to look at you, to make his life a little easier… but instead, you had somehow wrecked it.

After what seemed like an eternity, Orter was still dead silent, and you had to do something.

“I… I’m sorry…” you mutter quietly, not fully sure of what you did, but feeling the urge to apologise anyway. His state was more than concerning and you were the cause for it. “I… meant no harm, with whatever I did to you…”

And then something hits him. A feeling he’s probably rarely felt before: guilt. He looks up at you, and you clearly look like you’re holding back your tears as you shamefully look away from him. It takes all of his energy not to get angry— but at himself this time. He was the one who caused this situation, not you.

“It wasn’t your fault, only mine.” He sighed as he took off his glasses and started wiping them to distract himself from your sad expression that was awakening a myriad of new feelings within him. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I… did get quite used to your company. Please, feel free to speak as much as you want.”

He looks up at you, and despite the fact that he still isn’t smiling, his eyes are softer now, his expression is gentler and his voice has lost its authority. He is just asking you to speak to him. It isn’t even an order, he is actually pleading.

You can’t help this slight blush from creeping up to your cheeks as you try to regain your composure. You had gotten praised by Orter today, and he even pleaded with you and apologised? It was clearly your lucky day, so you thought you might as well try your luck. You cleared your throat a little.

“A-hem… so… maybe you… would like to have coffee with me this time?” You ask, timidly.

Orter merely chuckles, still not letting his face sport the ghost of a smile. He simply pushes his glasses up to his nose and stands up, pulling his coat back to his shoulders. 

“I would love to.”

¹: this man will cover his sashimi in honey and proclaim it’s still edible.

²: read → insistence. 

³: nonstop yapping.

⁴: empty, hollow. Not a single thought behind those eyes— or so he thinks.

⁵: you, sorry.

[vivgst]

Hey this is my first time doing an anonymous post but I just wanted to ask if you could maybe do like a fic where Valeria and reader are like friends with benefits but kinda have a tough and hateful love with eachother and sex too lolll

Heyyyy<3333 Dw, Im kinda new too, yesterday I was gonna answer one and I ended up deleting it.

All of us know how stubborn Valeria is, right? She lies a lot, even to herself.

Tw: Angst, smut, not happy ending.

If you had to talk about what your relationship with Valeria was like, you would say it was horrible, loving her was exhausting and consumed your soul, it hurt so much that you could even feel it physically and it was a hell that you refused to leave precisely because you were exhausted, leaving her was just another move that would leave you with less strength and you felt incapable of doing it.

And you were clinging, clinging to that kiss on the forehead that she gave you one night thinking that you had already fallen asleep, to her jealousy and possessiveness that seemed to be signs of love in a twisted and quite harmful way, you clung to her laugh that sounded like the one of a teenager and all those things that made you weak at the mere idea of ​​leaving her, you couldn't.

But with each passing day it became more present, it got in your thoughts like a virus and ate away your whole body, it made you spend sleepless nights.

What if you left her? It would hurt, yes, but you would be calmer and your peace was priceless, it was non negotiable, however you had given it to her as if it were not something important.

And eventually you got sick of it and in one of your endless arguments you left her mansion swearing never to return, she made fun of you, of course.

“You're going to come back like you always do.” She muttered mockingly as you walked out of the mansion with teary eyes.

But to her surprise, you didn't. Weeks went by and she didn't hear from you, you hid, you had the nerve to think she would be the one looking for you so you left your apartment, that made her even angrier.

Because well, she did look for you, but how dare you think she would? It had to be you, it was always you.

Valeria hated giving in, but she gave you what you wanted, she knew that even if you left your apartment you couldn't miss work so she went there at night.

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest when you were passing through a deserted alley and you felt an arm wrap around your waist and pull you deeper into said place, however you relaxed noticeably when you saw it was her.

“I thought I would crawl back to you.” You said sarcastically and she gave you a glare before rolling her eyes, Valeria hated your sarcasm but she would mess with you before you got through her and you knew that.

“You’re one of my best toys, chula.” She spoke in a low voice and you felt your heart sink and that uncomfortable feeling in your stomach that made you nauseous, something typical every time you imagined her with other women, in other arms, kissing other lips, it made you sick, there was nothing more unbearable than thinking about that.

But you were tired of fighting to show her that you cared, especially because it ended up being a sacrifice in vain that left you bleeding and if there was something that Valeria apparently liked, it was seeing you vulnerable and knowing that she was the cause of that pain.

“Maybe it's time you get someone better, there must be plenty of them out there.” You said and although what you wanted was to run away like a coward, you raised your face to meet her gaze that for the first time looked disconcerted, however she was able to hide it well in that mask of coldness she always had.

“I don't see the need to do that when I have you in front of me.” She spoke and you could tell she was going to say something else but you interrupted her.

“I don't want to see you again, Valeria. I don't want to keep in whatever this is, I don't feel like it.” You said and if you knew her a little better you might have noticed the fear in her eyes.

The idea of ​​losing you had never been something she considered because you had simply chased her so much that she couldn't imagine you leaving her, but it became real and she didn't like seeing herself waking up in an empty bed, wrapped in the same sheets she shared with you.

"You can not-"

“Are you going to force me?” You blurted out and knew that maybe implying that was a mistake.

She could do some crazy shit sometimes but never in her life and under no circumstances would she lay a hand on a woman if she said no, never. And you knew it, but you liked that now she was the one glaring at you, offended by your words.

“Oh, did I hurt your feelings?” Your voice was now echoing in the alley but there was no one and you were really so angry now that you didn't care if someone listened or not, you just wanted to hurt her, frustrate her. “You are like a man, you are always criticizing them but you are the same, you are doing the same shit they do to other women.” Your words hit a nerve and she pushed you against the wall, the sharp thump of your back against the concrete echoing throughout the place.

Valeria approached you, there was fire in her eyes and you grinned cheekily at her, no matter how angry she could be, she wouldn't hit you and you took advantage of that from the first moment you realized it.

“Shut the fuck up, do you have any idea what you're saying?”

“I do, honey. You are the same, you are just another rat, just like them. You're a fucking coward because you hate that I leave yet you still don't give me what I want!” You yelled at her and she clenched her jaw, Valeria was used to violence and her body normally reacted on its own to situations like these, so holding back was difficult for her.

“And what the hell do you want from me?” Valeria said, raising her voice as well and letting out a growl full of frustration, this night was going differently than what she planned. “What the fuck do you want? Speak". She murmured softly, her body pressed against yours and you felt yourself burning in her intense gaze, you hated her.

“You know what I want, I've said it a million times, you know I want to leave these games and be honest.” You tried to break free from the prison that was her body but her hands tightened on your hips, clinging to you as if the thought of letting go hurt. “I want you to admit that you have feelings for me.”

"I do not feel anything for you". She responded almost immediately and her gaze wandered all over the floor that was within reach of her eyes.

That was the problem with her, her love was weak, it wasn't enough. She was such a coward about this situation, you knew what she said wasn't true, but she refused to admit it, to being vulnerable because that would only hurt more in the end.

“Look me in the eyes when you lie to me.” You said in a whisper and when her gaze met yours your legs weakened, you could see the conflict in her tired eyes, the pleading and all the war that was inside her, she was showing it to you, because she never let you see nothing she didn't want. “Val, just-”

"I can't". She said in a thin voice and you had to swallow hard in an attempt to relieve the lump in your throat, her gaze was still fixed on yours and you knew what was going to happen, you hated yourself for it.

You hated yourself because when her lips met yours you didn't pull away, you wrapped your arms around her neck and held on to her. Her hands moved down to your thighs and tightened on them to lift you up and gently press you against the wall, your legs now hugging her hips.

The softness of the kiss went to hell as soon as it started, now her tongue moved inside your mouth with need and you sucked on it, earning a groan from her, your skin burning as you felt her body crushing yours against the wall and when her hand went to your pants you pulled away from her lips.

“You can’t fuck me in an alley.” You mumbled, you were breathless and panting, your chest rising and falling rapidly and you felt the adrenaline rush through your body. Valeria gave you a look full of confusion, her eyes narrowing slightly and you looked at her in disbelief, she was really confused.

"Why not?" She asked and you had to sink your teeth into the inside of your cheek, biting it to hold in your laughter, it was unbelievable.

She didn't let you respond, she just rolled her eyes and crashed her lips on yours again, her fingers massaging the inside of your thighs and you had to hold on to her arms when you felt her move away from the wall, starting to walk and you were embarrassed because... what if someone saw you two? but what was happening felt too good…

You both got into the back seats of her car and you began to undress her, almost tearing off her clothes because the desire you felt to touch her warm skin was killing you. Your hands moved desperately and even then it wasn't the speed with which you expected them to move, plus being in that small space was quite uncomfortable, but you managed and then she helped you undress.

You straddled her thigh, her hands on your hips and yours on her shoulders to balance yourself a little as she began to move you slowly, the feeling stimulating enough to soak her skin and make you shudder, your sensitive nub throbbing every time as your hips rocked and you caught your lip between your teeth to keep from moaning too loudly, who knows, maybe someone outside might hear.

Valeria had her gaze fixed on yours, she loved it, she loved watching you fall apart in front of her and the way your gaze relaxed when you were turned on, how weak you were for her.

The heat was unbearable, the car windows were foggy and you began to ride her thigh faster, chasing your pleasure that swirled in your belly like a wave of fire. Your hand went between her thighs and you began to make circles with your thumb, gently massaging her clit, your other hand made its way to her jaw, raising her face abruptly so that her eyes returned to yours.

What you liked most about having sex with Valeria was that she could never swallow her pleasure, you had her almost drooling just from playing with that nub of sensitivity, she couldn't even moan, she just panted, she felt dizzy and there was no nothing she could think about other than how good you made her feel.

You weren't much different, your body was numb from tensing up so much, trying to hold onto your orgasm but you couldn't take it anymore and you let it wrap you in a warm hug, the movement of your hand between Valeria's thighs becoming erratic and trembly.

Suddenly you felt her hiss and her juices soaked your hand, both of you relaxed after the release and you got off her lap, the heat burning your skin wet with sweat, among other fluids.

You wanted to sleep right there, you were exhausted, but you didn't want to leave and you knew she wouldn't let you. And normally you would argue for her to listen to you and take you home, but you let her take you to the mansion, you let her guide you to her office even though you knew the way more than well, and you let her take off your clothes, much more slower than how you moved in the car. You sat at her desk, now she was the one who was taking off her clothes under the intensity of your gaze and everything began to move in slow motion but fast at the same time, you felt influenced by the same feelings that invaded you every time that you saw her, all the frustration and anger, uncertainty and pain, because you loved her and she insisted that she didn't.

She didn't love you, but her eyes ran over your body softly, she didn't love you but her hands worshiped your body as if it was one of a goddess, and you told yourself that she didn't love you thousands of times, while she kissed you, while her fingers sank inside you delicately.

But how could she not love you if the way she made love to you was a confession? The passion with which your bodies were wrapped was a poem and an oath that the fire could consume everything in its path except what she felt for you.

And it was so overwhelming to feel her so close knowing that her soul refused to connect with yours, your eyes betrayed you, letting the tears run down your cheeks and her eyes fixed on yours, she didn't need to ask anything because she already knew. Valeria knew it. She knew and felt your pain that was also hers, even your pain was hers, there was nothing left of you that you could claim as your own.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry". She murmured and had to take a deep breath to contain the sea of ​​emotions that would soon form a wave to try to drown her.

She pulled you into her arms, in one of those hugs that made you feel comforted, but they were the same arms that hurt you so the comfort also felt wrong, out of place.

You couldn't realize when you fell asleep, but you woke up with one of the pajamas she had bought you, in her bed, in her sheets, but without her.

Like always.

And you decided to blame the burning in your eyes from haven’t had much sleep, you decided you weren't crying because she had run away from you, you weren't crying because this was what always happened, she left you before you woke up because having a conversation with you was overwhelming and her throat felt dry just thinking about it.

You weren't crying, or were you?

You didn't know anymore.

[kimmie2me]

Greeny Ghost

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ghost!Midoriya Izuku x AFAB!Reader

.....

The alley stretched out longer than you’d thought, shadows swallowing the corners, broken only by dim streetlights. You’d walked down plenty of places like this before, but this one was unnervingly quiet. Your friends were supposed to be with you, daring you into the so-called “haunted” alley, but when you turned back, you saw—no one. Just empty space.

“Those jerks,” you muttered, kicking a stray pebble with an irritated huff. Just your luck to get abandoned in the middle of a ghost story.

That’s when you saw him: a faintly glowing figure at the far end of the alley, barely visible in the low light, his form flickering like static on an old TV. He wore a junior high uniform, like he was frozen in time, but it was his eyes, wide and curious, that had you rooted to the spot.

"What the hell." You blurted out, which caused the ghost to jump a bit.

“You… you can see me?” he asked, sounding more surprised than you felt.

“Guess so,” you replied warily, feeling your fists clench. You took a step back, but he stayed still, watching you with something close to wonder. “A-are you the… ghost? Y'know.. that one ghost?”

“No. I mean, yes, but… not like… like an evil ghost!” he said, frowning as he waved his hands in the air, trying to seem harmless. “I don’t hurt anyone or anything. I just… hang around.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? So why are there all those rumors about people going missing in this alley?”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “I have no idea! I’ve been here for years, and no one ever went missing because of me.” His arms crossed, and he gave you an indignant look, clearly offended. “I keep watch over the place. There’s a run-down building nearby, and sketchy people use it for… whatever sketchy people do. I’m just here observing them, making notes sometimes.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, unconvinced. “Sounds like something an evil ghost would say. Plus, why would anyone believe some… green-haired ghost taking notes?”

His frown deepened and he sighed. "Really? 'Green-haired ghost? I have a name and identity, you know? My name is Midoriya Izuku."

You shrugged, giving him a skeptical look. “Sure, whatever. and I'm giving you a new identity: ‘Greeny Ghost.’ Also, how am supposed to trust you? You're a ghost and the movies basically explain what you're supposed to do. Just don't haunt me or I'll pour holy water down your throat.”

He threw his hands up. “Why are you making this harder than it has to be? I’m just here because I, well, exist here.” His voice softened a bit, frustration giving way to a hint of sadness. “It’s not like I can go anywhere else.”

“Yeah, and every creepy spirit says that before they drag you into some other world and keep you locked up for eternity,” you replied with a smirk, folding your arms in a show of exaggerated defiance. “Sorry, but I’m not falling for the ‘poor trapped ghost’ act.”

Izuku groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if your words were physically painful. “You remind me so much of Kacchan! In a bad way!”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Uh-huh. And what, or who, the hell is ‘Kacchan’?”

Izuku looked at you, his face twisting into an expression halfway between exasperation and resignation. “Kacchan! My… a friend from junior high. Sort of. He’s… well, actually, no, he’s nothing like you.” Izuku seemed to rethink this, blinking in realization. “He’s a lot worse.”

“Wow. So you’re saying I’m less tolerable than some guy named Kacchan, who, by the sound of it, doesn’t sound like someone with a good rep?” you said with mock offense, pressing a hand to your chest. “Way to compliment a girl, Greeny-Ghost.”

He looked like he was about three seconds away from floating back through the alley wall, giving up on this ridiculous exchange.

You look at him a bit more closer, and you note he looked about your age, but… different. Ghostly, of course, but there was something else, something in his eyes that almost seemed… lonely. You didn’t know if you believed him, but something about him made you stay.

“What’re you even doing here?” you finally asked, taking a careful step forward. "Are you trapped here or something?"

“Besides not being evil?” he shot back, still salty. But when he saw you weren’t about to leave, he sighed, softening. “A villain got me… in this alley. I was just a kid, and I never really… left, I guess. People pass by now and then, but nobody usually sees me.” He shifted, looking suddenly uncertain. “Actually, you’re the first one to ever talk to me.”

You studied him, noticing the worn edges of his uniform, the tired, resigned look in his eyes. He seemed less scary and more… well, kind of tragic. Still, you weren’t about to let your guard down. “Yeah, well, maybe people hear the creepy noises you make,” you challenged. “Y'know it freaks them out.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Oh! You mean the notes? I’m trying to keep track of the activity around here,” he said defensively. “Besides, no one told me my note-taking was creepy.”

“Right,” you said, biting back a smirk. “So you’re a scholarly ghost, huh?”

A light blush appeared on his cheeks. “Look, I don’t get many hobbies! Ghosts don’t have a lot to do except observe.” He crossed his arms, giving you a quick glare before his expression softened again. “Anyway, I’m not the villain here. The creepy noises? That’s just me muttering to myself or something.”

Your arms relaxed a bit, the eerie feeling of the alley giving way to something else entirely. His earnestness was unexpected, and honestly, a little endearing.

“Alright, Greeny,” you relented, softening just a little. “Maybe you’re not as evil as they say.”

He sighed, looking relieved but still a little skeptical himself. “That’s… comforting, I guess.”

You shrugged, shoving your hands in your pockets. “Guess I’ll see you around.” You turned, giving him a small wave as you walked away, his faint figure watching you until you disappeared around the corner.

.....

Three days later, you found yourself back at the alley. You weren’t sure why—maybe it was the way he’d looked at you, or that stupid hopefulness in his voice. This time, you came with something: a small letter in your hand, the ink smudged slightly where you’d clutched it nervously.

You called out, half-expecting him not to show, but he appeared, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Back already?” he teased, a lopsided smile on his face. "

“Don’t get too excited,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone casual. You extended the letter. “It’s… from your mom. I found her, told her I met you… and I convinced her to write something for you. Don't ask why I did it. You looked so miserable here, it made me miserable.”

His mouth dropped open, his expression turning from surprise to something you couldn’t quite name. He took the letter in shaking hands, his gaze fixed on it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“She… she actually remembered me?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He looked up, tears pooling in his eyes. “Thank you… I can’t believe you’d go out of your way for… for me.”

You shrugged, feeling a little awkward under the weight of his gratitude. “Figured you could use a reminder that you’re not just… some alley ghost.”

He laughed a little through his tears, wiping his eyes. “I’m really not an evil ghost,” he said, voice soft and grateful.

“Yeah, well,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a small grin. “You’re still Greeny Ghost to me.”

Izuku blinked, visibly surprised by your small grin, and for a second he just stood there, processing it. Then, with an awkward but excited energy, he smiled back.

“D-do you want to, uh… stick around for a bit? I could, um, show you what I’ve written down,” he stammered, gesturing to a tattered notebook that materialized in his hands.

You chuckled. “Sure. Show me what a scholarly ghost looks like.”

He lit up, practically vibrating with excitement as he began flipping through his notes, talking fast as he pointed out every bit of information he’d gathered. You listened, half amused and half impressed by his careful, detailed observations. Each page was crammed with tiny, meticulous handwriting that covered everything from people he’d seen pass by to strange objects left in the alley over the years.

“I try to keep track of everything,” he explained earnestly. “It’s not like anyone really notices me, so I figured… maybe someday, if someone needed to know anything about this area, I’d have it all written down.”

“Sounds like you take your ghostly duties pretty seriously, huh?” you teased, glancing through his observations. "Well, I try to be a hero in my own way" He replied with a small smile. As you skimmed a particularly eerie note about some “sludge villain” incident that had occurred nearby, a thought hit you.

“Wait, was it… the sludge villain? Was that what got you here?” you asked, looking up to find his expression turn somber, yet resigned.

“Yeah,” he murmured, a shadow passing over his face. “It all happened so fast. I didn’t even see him coming. They said… All Might couldn’t get there in time.” He paused, then shrugged, as if he’d long made peace with it. “Guess it’s just the way it happened.”

You looked at him thoughtfully, and something in you softened. “You know… I think All Might was really sad about what happened to you.”

Izuku’s eyes went wide, almost panicked, like you’d just told him he’d accidentally disappointed a beloved friend. “S-sad? I didn’t want him to feel sad! I mean, All Might is my hero! He’s… he’s… I never wanted to make him feel like that. I was always cheering him on!”

You attempt to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, which failed as it phases right through. After a second try, you deem the gesture to be futile. “Hey, it’s okay. All Might probably knew that. And who knows? I bet he even came to your funeral.”

Izuku looked up, the panic giving way to a kind of hopeful wonder. “You… you think so?”

“Of course,” you said, grinning a bit. “And hey, maybe that ‘Kacchan’ guy you mentioned showed up too. You’re not as alone as you’d imagine, Greeny.”

He looked at you, eyes brimming with a strange mixture of gratitude and disbelief, as if no one had ever told him something like that before. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice soft and full of warmth. “For saying that. It… it actually means a lot.”

You shrugged it off, feeling a little flustered under his earnest gaze. “Yeah, well, can’t leave a ghost like you feeling down, right?”

Izuku chuckled, the sound light and unexpectedly comforting. “I guess not,” he agreed, eyes still shining with gratitude as he turned back to his notes, flipping to a fresh page. “You mind if I write down that you came back? I think… I think I’d like to remember it.” You nod.

"Yeah, sure you can."

From that moment on, he followed you like a quiet shadow, slipping into conversations, teasing you as much as you teased him, and reminding you of the friend you’d found in the most unexpected of places.

[sandyca5tle]

Slime HRT - 24 Months

Well, these past couple months have been hell, with a light at the end of the tunnel that I’ve now reached, but still. Anyway, on with the show…

So, before I get into the really gritty stuff, my jaw and teeth were converted pretty early on, as well as my ear bones. The former were a little funky, but honestly nothing really changed there, since I already don’t need to chew things, losing my teeth was no big deal, and for the latter, there was a small blip in my hearing - for a few minutes - but then it came back, honestly better than before. I wasn’t super worried about the hearing loss, particularly after eyes taste and smell, only how long I'd be deaf for, but fortunately, as I said, it really wasn't a problem. I’m pretty sure that my slime has just replaced my inner ear’s function innately, and since hearing is just interpreted vibrations, and slime is pretty good at vibrating. What was and has been nice is the cat ears I made a few months back can now actually function, which took a little getting used to, but my hearing is super good now, if a little overwhelming at times.

Right, on to the less pleasant parts: Remember how in the last update I said that apparently you know when your brain goes, yeah, that’s true, and it’s ‘cause it’s genuinely the most painful, disorienting, and scary thing I have ever experienced. First of all, unlike a lot of other changes, it kinda just goes all at once - I think it’s a survival thing, the brain/core wouldn’t function while being half transformed, and it’d probably kill you if they tried to. Only issue is that this means that your brain basically dissolves over the course of a few hours, which is excruciating, and the weeks leading up to that absolutely suck as well.

The first thing I noticed was the pain - headaches, some of the worst I’ve ever had (which I know I’ve said a lot over the course of this, but I was fortunate before to have very little issues, and turns out transforming your whole body hurts). I tried to take some painkillers to help, but they don’t seem to work any more - not sure if it’s ‘cause my biology is so different now, or ‘cause my body breaks them down too well, but either way they don’t work, so I had to suffer through the pain.

Either on top of or because of the pain, I've had a general sense of disorientation. It started off as just sometimes getting a little turned around in games and the like, but it progressed to getting lost if I tried to go anywhere (which was compounded by some other stuff too). Frankly it's a good thing in the final days before my brain changed that I hurt too much to go anywhere, else I probably would have ended up somewhere entirely unknown at a really vulnerable stage in my transformation.

I also have had some memory issues while things have worked things out. My memory has never been amazing in the first place, but I started to get very forgetful, forgetting appointments, plans, even eating (I'd usually ‘remember’ when I started idly eating random things I had around, which has meant I've lost a few things, but I don't remember what so I'm keep finding things I need to replace). I’m also pretty sure I lost some older memories too, but it’s really hard to tell if that’s from normal forgetting or forgetting ‘cause my brain was becoming mush, it’s kinda scary not knowing. This is also part of what compounded my disorientation - when telling left from right is getting hard, forgetting where you're even meant to go or have come from only makes things worse. Also, try reforming yourself from a puddle when you barely remember what you were before… definitely had some interesting shapes recently. Honestly, it was terrifying, I actually didn't know if I'd ever be able to remember things again (obviously I can, but I didn't know that at the time, and my memory of that period are sketchy at best)

Of course, the pain I mentioned earlier made it hard to focus on things, but even beyond that my ability to focus seemed to vanish. I have been so easily distracted over the past couple of months. Genuinely a glint of light or something could completely draw my attention from whatever I was doing, and then I'd usually completely forget what I was doing, get distracted by something else and wonder off. I apparently walked off in the middle of so many games and videos and just any activity I was doing. Frankly it's a miracle that I have any notes, or remember enough to actually write this entry, I kinda spent most of this last month piecing together what I do remember and have notes of (the notes are not the most legible, worse than my normal handwriting which is awful anyways (there's a reason I type these updates)). 

On top of all this, I also had nightmares and hallucinations. The former sucked, but honestly asides from waking up in some weird shapes in attempts to either fight or defend myself from whatever was jumping me in the nightmare (assuming it was a monster one) they were over once I woke up. The hallucinations were worse, since they could appear at any time, and oh boy do they seem real. Sometimes they were small things, noises, or a shape in my periphery. Other times they were blurry, intimidating figures in the distance. And of course with my inability to focus on things, these hallucinations would only be another thing to distract my addled brain. The worst though, was waking up from a nightmare, a puddle unable to reform, and the nightmare continuing as a hallucination in the real world. That'd usually shake me up for a day - and annoyingly my memory issues didn't really seem to extend to them. I'm still working out what was real and fake from that time, and it has not been easy, or fun. My ‘brain’ feels like goddamn soup whenever I think about that time. 

On top of everything else, sometimes I'd faint. Sometimes due to pain, other times (particularly towards the end of the transformation) I'd just keel over, only to wake up in a puddle of myself. It was really disconcerting and scary… kinda felt like my brain was just cutting out, and I was a little scared it might not cut back in at some point… and of course that’s one of the things I remember clearly, the fear and worry of that - very clear that the ‘remember bad shit’ survival instinct was and still is functioning, as annoying as that is.

Since I don't particularly want to linger on those thoughts more than I already have, an interesting thing to note is that even through all of this, my actual mental faculties didn't diminish - while I was forgetful and distracted, if I managed to make myself, I found myself just as capable as before. I partially did this to help assure myself I wasn't losing myself, but also because, let's be honest, slimes aren't known for being the brightest bunch, and I've been a little worried this whole time that I'd get dumber or something. The pamphlet I was given didn't really say anything about this happening, but I know from trans hrt that the information your given doesn't always include every possible effect (I know it certainly failed to mention the attention issues during the most recent stage, and the blindness from before) 

But, despite last month being basically the worst month of my life, I have survived, albeit a little scrambled, and I'm slowly putting everything back together. And of course, now, there's nothing human left in me! I'm all slime!!! (It makes me so unbelievably happy to be able to say that now).

Interestingly, unlike everything else, my brain hasn't fully gone, instead I ended up with what I quickly realised is a slime core! For those unfamiliar, slimes can have a core, which is essentially like their brain/major organ inside them, usually looking like a small coloured sphere. While slimes are usually pretty hard to damage permanently, damage done to a slimes core can be very debilitating, like heart, brain, or lung damage for humans and stuff. 

I actually think I had a kind of proto-core before hand, but didn't notice it, and I think it came around about when my digestive system was changed, since I think my core manages matter-to-slime conversion (I'm guessing this ‘cause that's improved since my core has now fully formed). I guess I didn’t spy it before ‘cause it was too small or something?

On that note, my core is/looks like, interestingly, a kind of verdant green gem. It mostly just seems to float inside of my goo, although I can move it around my body wherever I like, but I tend to keep it either right in the middle of my torso, or in the middle of my chest (at least in human form). Both areas have a decent amount of goo protecting my core, and it looks neat to have it there. 

It does actually look really pretty, especially when taken outside of my body (don't worry, it can be taken out of my body, so long as it remains in contact with my goo I'm completely fine), and yeah, just kinda looks like a funky green stone/gem. I am curious as to why it's green, and I'm kinda hoping it's gonna boost the efficiency of my photosynthesis, and that it's green ‘cause of chlorophyll, but I don't honestly know yet, need some nice sunny days to properly test it out. 

I did find out that if my core does become separated from my goo, I can just reform another body from stored goo around the core, leaving the old body to fall (but I can just reabsorb it afterwards to maintain mass). Oh, and before anyone worries that I was being reckless, I made sure to check that I wouldn't die before I tested anything.

On the note of stored goo, it seems like excess goo/matter is stored in the core, like fat in humans. I'm not sure what or if there's a limit or what happens if I try to eat too much, but as far as I've gotten for now, it seems to be fine. I have noticed that I actually seem lighter now, I still seem to weigh about as much as I look like I should (maybe slightly over) and as such it changes if I make myself grow bigger, but not really if I eat things. I'm not entirely sure quite what's going on there, as that seems like some physics defying shit, but it's actually super useful, means I can store as much mass as I'd like and not break the sofa when I sit down. 

So asides from all of those experiences and changes, I've found a couple other things that have sprung up from these changes. Firstly, I've found that my body feels much more coherent, I'm very much now one gelatinous entity, rather than bits of one and bits of another. Movement feels much more fluid now, especially outside of a humanoid form (not that I've gotten worse at being humanoid, just better at everything else) and I honestly find myself kind of hot swapping between slime ball and slime girl as I need/feel like it. Also navigating crowds is super easy now, just kinda slipping and moving between any gaps (I could kinda do this before, but again, now it feels so second nature). On top of this, my multitasking seems to have improved. I still can’t say one thing while writing another, but I've gotten better at physical multitasking; I struggle less coordinating my ‘hands’ when I try playing the piano for example (I still can't play it, but I've got more of the coordination for it). Add in that I can very easily have several limbs/pseudopods/whatever you want to call them at once (which is honestly why I think my multitasking has improved, it's to facilitate control of the numerous structures I can now produce) and it’s become very easy to manage multiple, physical, tasks at once. 

One thing I have noticed myself doing, almost subconsciously (and honestly, this might've started a little before now, but I'll talk about it here, since I've really noticed it now), I'll just adjust my body however I need in the moment. Now, this may sound kind of obvious, but it's a little funky (but mostly neat) to just suddenly grow an extra limb, or pseudopod to hold or grab something quickly, or to just adjust my mass to better balance or manage something. Again, very neat, but a little funky to realise when I didn't consciously think about it. 

Relatedly, shaping has become easier, not sure if that's due to practise, or having a more compatible neurological centre, but I seem to be able to shape myself quicker, and I seem to have gained a better memory for shape too, the latter is definitely due to recent changes, or at least, definitely due to the treatment.

I've  also still been working on my acid control, which feels like it's gotten easier, but again I can't say whether that's from practice or the recent changes, but I can at least somewhat reliably keep an area of my body acid free now for a bit.

Unrelated to the treatment, but I'm actually much shorter now, at least in my humanoid form, clocking in at around 4’4”(slime ball form has remained the same size, at around 30cm tall). I always liked the idea of being really small, and I can now, and it's not like it really offers any disadvantages, since I can just reach tendrils up to grab things from high up (with eyes/vision so I can see what I'm doing), plus it means I have more spare slime to spend on other, more fun things than just being tall. This all being said, the idea of using all my slime to become really big also has its appeals, but it's less practical for day to day life. 

To touch on one final thing, I definitely don't feel human anymore. I'm a slime, through and through, humanity is just a memory. I've mentioned before feeling more and more detached from humanity (if I ever felt truly attached) as this process has gone on, but now that I'm seemingly done, I don't feel human at all. Interestingly, I find this aspect has been remarkably similar to gender transition, with the feeling of being a guy slowly fading away until it seemed alien to think of myself as one, which kinda feels like where I'm at at the moment. I'll likely catch myself still including myself in humanity from time to time for a while, but I can safely say I'm a slime, and I am so happy I can now. So that’s what my life has been for the last couple of months, and while parts sucked - like, really sucked - the end result is so unbelievably worth it. While this feels like the end of slime hrt, I do have an appointment planned with the doc to talk about my next step and hopefully get myself onto shapeshifter hrt, so my next update will probably be about that. See y’all then!

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Tag list below cut (lmk if you want to be added)

@calliecwrites, @friedsputnik, @now-entering-the-goop-zone, @scrubbinn, @lilacinthefog

@mint-and-authoress, @losttodreams, @redroversendjayover, @ariathelamia, @kanithedemoncat

[thenightfolknetwork]

Hello. I'm, um, not entirely sure how to talk about this. I hope it's okay if I misspeak. I'm a human, right, so I think that needs to be clear more than anything, but I've been very involved in the creature community for years now. I live by a great big lake and I always liked to walk down the shore late at night or early in the morning, you know, just to try and get out of my own head, and one night ages ago I accidentally tripped over someone's jacket and twisted my ankle. It was a gorgeous fur jacket, too, not like any kind of fur I'd seen in a jacket before, but just stunningly soft and thick as Hell.

Now, of course I didn't take it, that'd be awful, but also I had just hurt myself in kind of a nasty way and so it wasn't like I had anything else to do but sit by the shore next to the jacket and waited, and yeah, a few hours later one of the lake seals popped its head out of the water, looked at me for a good long while, and then...well, I mean, you know how the rest of the story goes, I'm sure.

Anyway, it's been a few years now and I've become really close to this family. I didn't really know anyone in my town before meeting them and I'm not on speaking terms with my own folks, so in a lot of ways these people have become my family, and it's an honor that they trust me to keep guard of their cloaks and such when they go out. But I've got this problem, right, and it's just...over the years it's felt less and less like I fit in with other humans. All my friends are nightfolk now, my family hates me even more because they're bigots--in this night and age, can you fucking believe it--and it's just like every night I get further and further away from the shore.

I'm just scared because...I don't *want* to stop drifting away. I've had dreams of joining them down there in the lake, practically every night for months on end. I've tried doing research into methods of joining the community but I don't want to become a vampire, I don't fancy any lunar-aligned nonsense, nothing has felt right except selkies, but I can't decide if I'm just self aware enough that I need a push from an outside viewer to try and accept something I already know full well...or if no, actually, that little voice in my stupid head that won't go away that keeps calling me a fraud, an invader, an appropriator--what if the reason it's not going away is because it's right and I really don't belong?

Just...please be honest with me. Am I a complete asshole for spending hours every day trying not to just outright beg my family--sorry, chosen family--to help me sew myself a cloak, or is there something to this?

First of all, reader, please rest assured. As long as you are speaking from a place of kindness and a willingness to learn, you don't need to worry about using all the correct terminology. I always try to listen generously when people come to me in need, and I encourage our followers to do the same.

Unfortunately I can well believe that bigots like your biological relatives still exist. I'm glad you've been able to extract yourself from their hateful society, and have found comfort, support and kinship among the nightfolk.

You say there is a little voice in your head calling you a fraud, casting doubt on the validity of your feelings. As much as you might want to push it away and stop your ears, I want you to listen to that voice, just for a little while. Pay attention to the language it uses and what ideas it seems to have about the world.

And then ask yourself: is this my voice? Does that sound like me? Or does this sound like a last, desperate, wriggling remnant of the people I've worked so hard to distance myself from?

Every one of us is raised with a narrative, a story about the world and our place in it, and how we should treat the people around us. We're told that story by our parents, by our teachers and schoolmates, by television and books and a million other sources. The story is so vast and so all-encompassing, it takes an enormous effort to be able to see any single part of it clearly.

Imagine, then, how hard we have to work to realise some of that story is untrue, or harmful, fed by hatred and fear. To start untangling ourselves from the rotting, strangling roots of the story we've known all our lives, and start planting something new and fresh and honest.

It sounds to me like this little voice is one of those lingering strands of the story you were raised with – one where liminality is nothing to admire or strive for, and where you cannot be trusted to know your own mind, and your own needs. It's time to tell yourself a better story.

You've found people who honour you with their trust and who make you feel supported and loved, as you deserve. You admire them, and want to be like them. None of this sounds “stupid” to me.

This is not a decision to be taken lightly. By all means, take your time, and talk your feelings through with your family. But I think you already know what story you want for yourself, reader – and for what it's worth, I think the world will be better for its telling.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[takaraphoenix]

Four months into my Teen Wolf renaissance and I am kind of fascinated by the way my interaction with it changed and shaped with this current rewatch of the show, the shift in priorities.

I used to monoship in this fandom. There was Sterek and nothing else.

Now I'm juggling multiple ships and my first ever poly-ships for this fandom. Which is a delight, because I'm a polyamorous person first and a writer second so to actually have poly-ships in this fandom sparks a whole lot of joy for me. So does generally having multiple ships, because I've always been a multishipper.

It's interesting though, that with these multiple ships, it has become very clear to me what's my actual most important dynamic for this fandom. Because it doesn't matter what the Stiles ship is, it doesn't even matter who the pack Alpha is and what pack we're talking about, I need Boyd and Erica to be alive and to be in Stiles' pack. These three mean the fucking world to me, they're the core. The pack around them may change, the romantic ship for Stiles may change, but those two are alive and together and beautiful and Stiles' pack.

Other things, I am much more flexible on. There are characters I don't particularly care whether they're portrayed as good friends or bad friends, but if a fic goes outta their way to keep Boyd and Erica alive just to have them be bad to Stiles, I am out of that story faster than you can look.

Jackson is slightly more negotiable. He's still very important to me and I prefer him to be in the pack, but there is also something appealing to him being in London and him and Stiles building a long-distance friendship after the Nogitsune, that phone calls and texts might make it easier for Stiles to talk about what happened, that the Nogitsune trauma and the kanima trauma bonds them. I prefer them to be pack, but they don't have to be, as long as they are still friends. If I have to see Jackson post season 2 sticking around and being pack, just to then be a bully to Stiles, I am also out.

Like. I do fully understand that all three have, you know, more or less antagonistic pasts toward Stiles. I also understand fics that just turn everyone aside from [romantic partner] against Stiles for max angst. It's just that these three? These three hurt me to read as bad friends.

The more I write and read for the fandom, the more important does Alpha Peter become to me too. Even outside of romantic Steter, it just... feels wrong to me when he's a beta even more wrong when he's Scott's beta ngl. There is so much healing, redemption and hope in the idea of Peter as an Alpha who gets to rebuild the Hale Pack and keep his family's legacy alive.

Used to be Derek for me, but the more I think about it, the... unhappier he seems as an Alpha in canon and the fonder I grow of the idea of him getting to be a Right Hand. Of him getting a second chance with a Hale Pack but without the burden of having to try and be the Alpha. (I do still love writing and reading Alpha Derek though, especially when it's Sterek. But if I had to pick a favorite Hale Pack dynamic, it'd have to be Alpha Peter and Right Hand Derek.)

Now, out of this list, Peter was the only real surprise. Even back in 2014, when I first got into this fandom, I preferred my Berica alive and as friends with Stiles and I liked my Stackson brOTP.

But genuinely the biggest surprise to me is how much I latched onto Spark Stiles, because this was something I used to actively avoid. I used to think of that as nonsense. I mean, come on, that was one episode and canon moved on from that, how did you grow that attached to it.

Somehow, this rewatch, I just feel very indignant about the fact that they really gave Stiles magic for one episode and then did jackshit with it. What the hell. After ten years, I finally understand why the fandom couldn't let go of that.

Comfortingly enough did my favorite thing not change in the past ten years though. Give me Pack Mom Stiles or give me death. That's still the best damn thing this fandom ever did, in my opinion, and whatever the ship or the pack or who the Alpha is, Stiles is Pack Mom.

But it is interesting to see how my own interaction with the story and the characters has changed over the past decade and on this third to fifth watch (depending on what season we're talking about. I've seen the first two seasons more often than the rest).

[mousy-nona]

I feel like a fic potentially focusing on Lucifer’s depression would be really interesting! That is, like.. Alastor can’t let the hotel be seen with a king (who’s a sniffling whiny bitch). Its sadly more beneficial to have him revered in this particular instance, so he’s determined to “fix” it? Idk how in character that prompt is, but I figured sending it to you wouldn’t hurt!!

TW: heavy stuff halfway through -- depression; angst.

There were some days Lucifer couldn’t get out of bed.

There was nothing particularly wrong with him. Which made it all the more embarrassing, which made it harder to explain, which made it easier to stay in bed and hide from the world, and so on and so forth…

Get up, the Stern Lucifer in his head said, sternly. You have the Assembly today. What’ll the Sins think if you don’t show up?

“Don’ wanna,” he groaned and tossed the covers over his head. The darkness was soothing. He let his eyes slip closed. Just one more minute…

“People are beginning to talk.” 

He bolted upright, his eyes growing so wide he was worried they might actually pop out of his skull.

“Alastor? What the Hell are you doing on my bed?”

Because he was. On the far edge. Sitting with his legs crossed. As casually as if this was the kind of thing regular people did every day: break into the King of Hell’s room and sit on his bed.

(Not that Lucifer hadn’t thought about the demon in his bed before, but usually it was in the damn thing and with a lot less clothes and what the actual Hell was he thinking right now?) 

“People are beginning to talk.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“Yes. Because I don’t think you heard me the first time.” Alastor eyed him, clearly unimpressed by what he saw. It had the odd effect of making Lucifer want to punch the demon in the nose and pull the covers over his head at the same time. “If you don’t get up in the next five minutes, you’ll be late for the meeting.”

“Oh, who cares?” Lucifer sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. “It doesn’t matter whether I’m there or not. They’ll squabble and Ozzie will flirt and Beezlebub will try to get everyone drunk and Mammon will drive everyone up the wall with new pyramid schemes.” 

Alastor tilted his head almost a full 45 degrees. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Was the man half-owl? A mean gleam shimmered just below the surface, turning his eyes into bloody rubies. “If you hate ruling so much, why not just give up the crown? Let someone better take it.”

“Oh?” Lucifer snorted. “Sounds like you have someone in mind.” 

Alastor sighed, as melodramatic as a soap opera. “Alas, I would – but I doubt the six Sins would listen to lil’ ol’ me.” His accent slipped from transatlantic to all New Orleans, and Lucifer found himself hanging on every word. Southern suited the demon, was just as much Alastor as the color red and his old fashioned suits.

He shook himself out of it, snorting. “Please. Try the humble pie act somewhere else. You’ve never thought of yourself as little even once in your life.” 

“Caught in the act!” The demon sang.

There was a long moment of silence as Lucifer hugged his blankets to himself and Alastor hummed some blues under his breath.

“How do you do it?” Lucifer said suddenly, and blushed, ducking his head back into his knees.

“Do what?” 

If Alastor had looked even the tiniest bit mocking, or teasing, or annoyed, Lucifer would have dove into his blankets and that would have been that. No meeting, no big Assembly, the entirety of Hell could go to…well, Hell, for all he cared. 

But Alastor seemed honestly curious. Not soft, never that, but he was looking at Lucifer as if he actually cared what he had to say. 

“How do you keep going every day?” 

With anyone else, he would have apologized immediately for worrying them. Charlie would have started crying and immediately urging him to go see someone about his problem. Lilith would have listened, but a part of her would have been writing up her list of to-dos for the day. And anyone else – well. 

He didn’t have anyone else. 

That was part of the problem though, wasn’t it? 

But because Alastor was a cold, callous bastard, he didn’t have to apologize. He could just be honest. Already he was starting to feel some of the weight fall off his shoulders, as if carrying the words around had been half the battle. 

Alastor tapped his cane on the ground. “Because I have half a doe in the fridge, plans with Rosie next Tuesday, and in a few months I fully intend to rule Hell.”

The last one caught Lucifer completely by surprise. He half-snorted, half-coughed into the crook of his arm. “Excuse me?” He squeaked. “Should I be alarmed?” 

“Absolutely not, my dear.” When Alastor grinned, there was something remarkably predator about it. “Didn’t you hear me say the Sins would never listen to me? I couldn't do it alone.”

“But then how do you intend…” Lucifer stopped, and his cheeks turned an absolutely brilliant shade of scarlet. “You– you– you don’t mean?”

“Ah, there we go,” Alastor said. “Took you long enough. It’s a good thing you’ve got a pretty face, hmm?”

“I’m married!” 

Alastor leaned forward. For one brief second Lucifer thought he was going to kiss him – but instead, he pat him on the head, as if he was an overgrown toddler. “My dear…one wedding ring does not a marriage make.”

Lucifer scrambled out of bed and tumbled to the floor in his hurry to get away from the complete and utter madman. 

“Ah, good! You’re up!” Alastor snapped to attention, bustling about as he got Lucifer’s outfit prepared for the day with the grace and ease of a seasoned valet. 

Lucifer took the proffered outfit, gaping up at the demon looming above him like – a nightmare? A dream? You could never tell which was which when it came to the Radio Demon. “Were you trying to get me out of bed this entire time?” 

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“No!” He spluttered, his cheeks once against stained wine-red. “So all that stuff about – wanting to rule Hell was…?” He would absolutely explode if he had to complete the sentence.

“Perhaps if you get up in the next–” Alastor checked his bare wrist, no watch in sight. “Two minutes, I’ll let you know.” 

The man is absolutely bonkers, Lucifer thought, but he did pick himself up off the ground and start getting ready. For some reason, it wasn’t nearly as hard as it had been earlier this morning – not when Alastor was there to confuse, entice, confuse, ridicule him. 

Alastor walked jauntily towards the door, but paused with his hand on the knob. 

“One step at a time,” he said suddenly. 

“Excuse me?” 

Alastor graced him with his patented I have been saddled with an idiot look. “You asked me how I keep going. I take it one step at a time.” 

Then he was gone. Lucifer stared at the outfit he’d left for him -- it was his favorite suit, with gold accents and ruby highlights. When had Alastor bothered to notice?

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

One step at a time, huh? He could do that.

[not-a-mimic]

why is it an important point that alan is very light sensitive and prone to migranes? other than being a disability rep for those of us who cannot function in broad daylight without sunglasses and explaining why the bright lights in aw1 are such a pain to look at (from alan's point of view) but like. it's important.

we see it in the flashback with alice where alan is hangover and seemingly has his sunglasses next to his bed already - a little weird right? and alice mentions them as well - because this is common. because he often needs them. frankly speaking from experience you don't get to the point where the sunglasses become a mandatory bedside fixture unless it's a really bad day often - which must be the case here. we also see then in 'herald of darkness' where "Dark shades could never save the day" and we see alan in shades. it's common for him. he does it often. mood! anyway mr champion of light being sensitive to light is just a funny coincidence right? wrong.

I also suspect that alan's tendency towards full outfits is also a part of this. no sane human wears that many layers in september, and alan specifically covers pretty much all the skin possible without looking weird.  also a lot of his article shots in rose'.... shrine have sunglasses and thick layers as well. this man is SENSITIVE sensitive to light and that's a coincidence I can't ignore in the remedy!verse.

alan was born (as stated in aw2) in 1977 - we don't know when, or where as he moved to new york later. his mother spent most of his childhood in psychiatric facilities, and his father is not only non existent but highly suspiously fictional (the only object we are told alan has of him is the clicker. the fucking clicker. tom zane's clicker that was definitely written into alan's life before he was born and was not a gift from his father proper. frankly we know the least about alan's childhood compared to all other remedy!verse protags - not knowing where or truly when he was born is important because it leaves options.

Light sensitive could be a coincidence - but we thought that about the nightmares too, and they turned out to be important clues. and hell-  *Scratch* is less sensitive to light than Alan is - only flashbangs and the super steong hand flares make him flinch, direct light seems fine unless super powered and normal flares are nothing. alan actively gets headaches from these things and obviously it hurts him. wtf is up with that? when the protection of the dark presence patches up your weakness you have a issue.

theory time:

we know alan is tied to this god damn lake. zane wrote it so - at very least alan was destined to fall in it at the end of aw1. but what if there is more? we also know that alan's darkness became at least the aw2 dark presence which. fine? an endless cycle of destroying yourself while under the impression that that's not yourself. we don't know if the dark presence in aw1 is also this same one, and if it isn't we now know there can be multiple dark entites (implied by Mr Scratch also). if it is then damn alan has issues.

I don't know if its just me but the fact that the small darkness within someone can be escalated out to being the whole larger dark presence at full power feels... off. that feels like it doesn't work with what we know of the entities- unless there was more darkness in alan then originally suspected fueling this presence. the strength of the dark presence born from him combined with the strength of his light sensitivity makes me very suspicious to how human he was originally, and how much of alan is just lake bullshit. if he was a creature or creation of the darkness forced into a human body (perhaps the 1976 awe the andersons fought back in brightfalls wasn't all it seemed. maybe the dark presence or something else was looking for a crack to escape through. maybe it succeeded, but was reborn as a human who was already showing signs at a young age of being light sensitive and also being a parautiltiarian, and a strong one at that.

maybe there was never a father because there was never a mother - linda wake may have found a child on the lake shore and adopted it as her own, not knowing the truth behind its origins. maybe the torchbearers who operated in brightfalls around that time were involved. maybe the reason alan and tom look identical is the dark entity needed human dna when being reborn as a human and zane was there at the right time. could be why other traits are shared, and zane foresaw and influenced the creation of the dark place to get what he wanted (after all it was borrowing from him his face and personality - at very least it could give him wiggle room to escape?)

alan always had... issues. darkness. a lot for a man. so what if its all supernatural bullshit? no one is looking too closely because there is supernatural stuff going on. I'm not sure this man is human, or at least his soul isn't and never was. some darkness wearing a human skin maybe, sensitive to the light but forced to manage it. I don't know, maybe I'm looking too much into this.

[kindlingkeen]

I need to know if I’m alone in this or maybe missing something.

It always bothers me when people say Tim’s childhood was so much worse than Jason’s, or even says they’re the same kinda thing. Am I the only one in this?? (More specifically when they compare them) Like it feels like they’re minimizing Jason’s story to nothing, when it makes his character up as much as his death does. (I’ve even seen people compare Tim’s childhood to Jason’s death, which is. A choice.)

Granted, I’m not a big Tim fan (he’s a cool character, just not the one I focus on) so maybe I’ve missed some part of his canonical backstory or ive subconsciously got something against his character idk.

But from my understanding, Tim is a rich kid who was taken care of (as in, he always had what he needed), just his parents were neglectful? Or away? (Not to say this isn’t bad, of course wouldn’t wish that on a kid either)

But Jason’s lived surrounded by crime and poverty, hell we see panels where he’s hurt and generally not havin a great time.

And I’m fine with people making angst worse because like, favourite character. I’m sure I’m guilty of doing the same to Jason (fave character bias and whatnot) it’s just something that strikes me as odd. But hey, maybe I just don’t know about some canon panel that shows Tim’s childhood as a tragedy where he almost died countless times (another thing I’ve seen fans use)

So yeah. Generally, what do you think about this? I am not too great with character analysis & whatever else, but I like the stuff you’ve said in regards to characters. I know you’re a Jason fan, unsure about how you feel about Tim/how much you know, but curious about your opinion anyway. Thanks.

You are not alone, anon.

You’re also not missing anything in canon, Tim’s childhood was not a tragedy (his parents traveled a lot and he spent his time in boarding school). Were his parents on the neglectful side? Yes. Does that equate to being parentless and living on the street before the age of 12? No. I answered an Ask about Tim a little while ago explaining why I don’t really care much for Tim in the comics or a lot of fanfics. And I only ranted a little about how projecting Jason’s trauma onto Tim is Not. Cool. So maybe check that out.

As for my opinion on this … *takes a deep breath* Let me start by saying that everyone should like what they like, read what they want, write what they want, etc. No judgement or shame intended at all.

But … my opinion is that the enemy-to-caretaker trope is to blame for the over abundance of this dynamic in the fandom.

It seems like this trope grew out of/is a Gen take on enemies-to-lovers. I have absolutely no problem with this trope in general. In fact, I quite enjoy it in certain settings. But the thing is, lovers can be equals. But a caretaker, that has an inherent power imbalance to the relationship. A caretaker takes care of a person who is in some way weaker or less able than them.

So, to make Jason a caretaker for Tim, you somehow have to make Tim weaker, and with time and repetition that’s gotten amplified to much weaker.

The easiest way to do this is to jack up the angst and trauma of Tim’s origin story and increase his overall vulnerability. Because in reality, the inherent power imbalance between Jason and Tim is not that significant. Jason is only two years older than Tim. They’re both supposed to be badass vigilantes who can fight and solve crimes. Tim’s home life was loads more stable and supportive.

Play a few games of fanfic telephone, and all of a sudden you have a baseline of touch-starved Timmy who was made to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs as a wee little niblet and then Lazarus-mad Jason came along and tried to murder him repeatedly (nope), slit his throat (‘twas but a scratch), and generally traumatized him beyond repair (Tim is Robin, pretty sure he’s been beaten up before). 🤦‍♀️

That’s my opinion, anon! Thanks for the ask! 💙

[satureja13]

Next morning. Vlad was still a bit shaky on his legs, but fit enough to get up and act as if everything was just fine in front of Ji Ho. Who, hopefully, never finds out he attacked Vlad hidden in that mannequin ö.Ö' Jack set up his beloved Whiteboard, threw some photos of their abilities and weaknesses on it and started the presentation. Jack: "So, here we have a few..." Sai interrupted: "Is this a pic of me in my underwear??? What does this have to do with our abilities? And where do these photos even come from?" Jack: "It is a pic of Jeb healing you = ability, after you hurt your leg. Please, let me just finish, won't you?"

Jack started to adress all their abilities and weaknesses they collected for their homework from Leander. Goal is to find a way to remove the spell from Ji Ho (his grandfather cast on him so Ji Ho was able to seduce Vlad to get a grip on his powers) to avert the prophecy (which says Vlad will destroy the Council...) = long story short ö.Ö' His grandfather must have cast the spell while Ji Ho lived in the ocean after his mother died and the landlord wanted him to work at the brothel. Ji Ho doesn't have much memories of this time until Ms Coombes found him and took him to Copperdale, where he met Vlad and the others... So, their abilities: Kiyoshi is was the most powerful. In his time as a demon, he was able to survive his own execution and cast powerful spells. But now, since he's also a diety his abilities seem a bit dulled. But he was able to show Jihovere a glimpse of her feelings (though that was in the therapy game...) and he made the TukTuk fly... Vlad went through hell and back after he died from Ji Ho's (for Vlad) poisonous blood. Vlad is also able to sense where Ji Ho is, should he be in danger. As vampires, Vlad and Sai are able to mind control. Which could be helpful, but they'd be outnumbered anyway by the Council, so two mind controlled of them less (while Vlad and Sai could do nothing else but control them) would not make any difference... And Vlad and Ji Ho were able to keep the Council at bay with their Bond Magic. But the Bond is not here beyond the Veil. (And we all know how much the Bond hates Vlad since he tried to cut the Bond.) So to use their magic, they need to go back to the mundane world, where the Council will await them. Now that Ji Ho has his feelings back, he will be an easy target - and a possible danger. Another possible danger is Super Soldier Jack. No one knows what the Council might have hidden in his DNA when they created him... Jack went on to ramble about their abilities and weaknesses. Jeb and him even managed to send them a message from the future! But only Future Jeb and Jack know how they accomplished it -.- And so amazing this all might sound - for their current situation, most of them are utterly useless.

Saiwa: "So, we can be quite sure that the Council knows Ji Ho has his feelings back, since his grandfather forced him to let them all out to save us ingame. And they had lots of time to prepare for our return to the mundane world where we'd to try to stop this spell. They also might have blackmailed powerful creatures to fight for them, more powerful than us. Like they did with Genji, for example. And they know the Resistance won't put other sub-units in jeopardy to assist us. Ji Ho's grandfather might even be able to remote control him, like in the game. And since Ji Ho is the only one who is able to kill Vlad, according to the prophecy, this will be a dangerous mission. This could have been their plan all the time! To prevent their doom!" The Boys went silent for a while. Their heads are spinning - but they didn't come up with any solution.

They agreed to meet again as soon as they gathered some more useful strategies. Sai went to the beach. His heart is heavy. Again, he failed as a leader. How are they supposed to go back to the mundane world? They also can't stay here for very much longer. They took all possible lessons and it just gets more and more expensive, lingering here beyond the Veil. And Sai does not even know how to pay for the tutoring they had until now. He needs to ask for a loan. And he dreads it. They weren't even able to fully pay back for the last help they received from the Resistance...

Jeb followed Sai. Jeb: "We are going to figure something out, hm? We're in this together and I'm positive we are going to find a way, as always. We already mastered the craziest tasks. And you've lead us through them. Don't make yourself small." Sai cried for a while. And Jeb pulled him a bit closer. How could he push Jeb away from him when his embrace feels so good? Francine was right. They could accomplish so much together. With Jeb by his side, Sai felt he could achieve everything.

'I took my love, I took it down Climbed a mountain and I turned around And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills 'Til the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? Mmm'

Fleetwood Mac - Landslide

The pics from Jack's whiteboard: And a few more/in no particular order (and these are not even all the ocassions they used their magic during the last 2 years ^^')

As far as we know, Jack has no magic abilities. Just his werewolf powers and the fact that he's the Super Soldier :3

And the Outtakes: This is another new interaction from the Lovestruck EP

They are so cute! I'm so happy they are back together again.

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Who killed Jack?' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-28

[that-random-outsider]

sliding on in cause you said your taking bridgella prompts.

Uliana makes Bridget cry and Ella has to co-comfort B while also sending the wrath of god into Ulianas very own poor unfortunate soul.

I just need more of this dynamic I’m literally obsessed with Ella being Bridget’s casual watchdog. Just absolutely content to tag along in the background if it means Bridget all happy and sunflowers and rainbows

kind if short but I hope you like it!! I love how Ella always looks prepared to go to fucking war for Bridget and I'm living for it.

Ella loved seeing Bridget smile, more than anything in this life. It was like watching the sun shining on her brighter than the hottest summer days. And when she cried the world seemed to lose all of its color along with her. And seeing Bridget cry at that moment was like watching her tears wash away all the color in the kingdom, and Ella wasn’t having it. “Bridget, it’s okay I’ve got you” Ella promised hugging the princess tightly as she glared at the octopus standing behind her friend. If it was up to her, she’d wipe that smug smile off of Uliana’s face. But Bridgett didn’t need a body guard at that moment, she needed a friend. Still, that didn’t stop her arms from tightening around her friend in a desperate attempt at self control.

She could feel Bridget return the favor digging her head deeper into Ella’s shoulder clutching Ella like a life line. And from the corner of her eye she could see Uliana do a mocking gesture of tears and Ella couldn’t control herself. A low growl escaped the commoner as she gritted her teeth at the sea witch. That was it. No one made Bridget cry, no one dimmed her light. Ella let go of her grip around her friend “Ella? What are you..” Bridget tried feel her friend pull away, but Ella just wiped a tear from Bridget’s eyes and promised to be right back. Bridget just watched in confusion as Ella made her way to Uliana and her gang wondering what she was going to do when… oh no, she wouldn’t. Right?

Wrong.

Ella decked her right in the nose stunning the girl just long enough for Ella to tell her off. “Stay the fuck away from Bridget you glorified squid” she commanded as the VK glared at her do intensely Ella feared she might drop dead right then and there. But Bridget was counting on her so she stood her ground despite everything in her telling her to get the hell out of there. “I will kill you” Uliana said her tentacles raising menacingly from behind as Ella took a few nervous steps back casting a glance to a shocked, and slightly red Bridget. “Get her” Uliana commanded and Ella bolted out of the court yard as fast as she with Uliana’s gang hot on her tail.

It was stupid, she knew that. I mean what else was to be expected when she punched the meanest bully in school in her face? Nothing good that’s for sure, but seeing Bridget cry like that? Face buried in Ella’s shoulder, arms clenched around Ella’s torso, the light she shined so brightly dimmed by Uliana so cruelly. It was unforgivable to her. And the sting surrounding her knuckles reminded her that she of how satisfying that had been even if she’d pay for it later. Eventually she came across a dead end. “Shit” she cursed under her breath, this was going to hurt. A lot. Even so, Ella didn’t mind. She’d gone through worse for less and for Bridget she’d di it all over again. It was just one beating. She could take it. For Bridget she would do anything.