#if only I could telepathically write responses

[tartabinger]

I log in I drop a funny Childe in Natlan video I leave

[n0vazsq]

Found the way | PA17 x Reader

pairing . . . soulmate!paul aron x soulmate!mixed!race!reader

summary . . . Meeting your soulmate after talking telepathically for years certainly was something.... especially when he's a race driver and you're an intern working in the same place

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.4k+

warnings . . . none! just a note that i'm going to refer to paul by his name, but reader doesn't know what his name is until they met!! conversations in their mind are in italic!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . wow. this was something to write.

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . For as long as you could remember, you and Paul had been connected. It wasn’t something you had asked for, but it felt like it was always meant to be. Every day, you heard his voice in your head, clear as day.

The first time it happened, you had been terrified. You were alone, walking home from school, and suddenly, you heard a voice in your mind.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You had frozen in place, looking around, trying to figure out who had spoken to you, but no one was there. It took weeks before you realized that the voice in your head wasn’t a hallucination or some kind of weird glitch in the world.

It was Paul.

He explained to you that he had the same ability, and he was just as confused as you were. The two of you quickly learned that you could only communicate telepathically, no spoken words, no physical contact, just thoughts exchanged in the quiet spaces of your minds.

And so, over time, you both built a connection. You got to know each other in the most intimate, invisible way. You shared everything. The good, the bad, the joys, and the fears, without the hidden stuff that often came with speaking out loud.

You’d both learned to help each other when things felt overwhelming, offering support when life was too hard to navigate alone. But there was always this unspoken rule; you couldn’t tell each other your names.

At first, it didn’t matter. You both laughed about it, making jokes and creating silly aliases. You had ended up calling him Blondie because of the way he described his hair; golden in every way, from the light shine to the warmth it seemed to radiate.

He’d called you Curls, a teasing nickname for your wild, curly hair. It became your thing.

He was Blondie, and you were Curls, and for some reason, it was perfect.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t both curious. You wanted to know more about him. You wanted to meet him, see what he looked like, hold him close when he had a hard day. But there was always that one, simple rule; no names.

And yet, after years of talking like this, you both had grown closer than anyone else in your life. You had supported each other through heart ache, listened to each other’s frustrations, and celebrated each other’s victories. You couldn’t wait to finally meet in person.

"I’m counting down the days, Curls. I just know you’ll be even more beautiful than I imagined." Paul’s voice echoed in your mind one night, his thoughts filled with affection.

"I can’t wait either, Blondie. I swear, I’ve been dreaming about it." You closed your eyes, smiling, already imagining the moment when you could finally hold him, feel his warmth. "It’s all I think about."

The world outside of your telepathic connection seemed so small. Conversations with friends and family felt distant, almost irrelevant. All that mattered was you and Blondie. But you couldn’t help the anxiety that gnawed at you, what if he didn’t like you in person? What if it was awkward?

"Do you think it’ll be weird when we finally meet?" You asked, the uncertainty creeping into your thoughts.

"No." Paul’s response was immediate, confident. "I’ve been talking to you for years, Curls. It’s going to be perfect."

You had talked to him about your job internship, how you were working behind the scenes in the paddock for a Formula 1 team, assisting with everything from logistics to preparation, and experience to complement your course in motorsport management.

You’d mentioned how exciting, yet nerve wracking, it was to finally get the opportunity to be in such a fast paced environment, learning from professionals in the industry. You’d also shared how there was a possibility, just a small one, that you and he could meet face to face for the first time during the race weekend, though you hadn’t expected it to happen so soon or so unexpectedly.

And now, here you were, standing in the bustling paddock of a Formula 1 race, running around trying to do your job done amidst all the excitement. You were barely keeping your focus, distracted by the knowledge that you were just a few meters away from meeting him, your soulmate, the person who had been in your head for years. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt as nervous as you did.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

You were walking with a team member down the crowded pit lane, carrying a stack of equipment for a quick setup. As you navigated the sea of people, your foot caught on the edge of a toolbox, sending you tumbling forward.

You braced for impact, but before you could hit the ground, a pair of arms shot out, catching you in mid fall.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was go-"

Your heart skipped a beat as you collided with his chest, the impact leaving you breathless. You instinctively looked up into his eyes and froze.

There was something… something so strangely familiar about this person. His bright blue eyes locked onto yours, and everything else seemed to fade away. It was as if you had always known this person, and the realization hit you like a wave.

This was him.

"Curls?" His voice was low, hesitant, but somehow it sounded exactly the same as it did in your mind. You felt a jolt of recognition.

"Blondie?" you replied, nearly breathless. You weren’t sure if you’d said it out loud or thought it, but the words came so naturally.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "You-how-how are you here?" He looked around, clearly trying to piece together the situation.

You smiled, heart pounding in your chest. "The internship."

For a moment, neither of you knew what to say. The shock and joy of the moment hung between you like a heavy blanket, but the connection you felt in your chest was undeniable.

You had been waiting for this day for years, and now that it had finally arrived, you were left speechless.

He held you at arm's length, still unsure, his fingers lightly brushing your arms as though confirming you weren’t just a figment of his imagination. "I-I didn’t expect… This wasn’t how I thought it would happen. I thought we’d… I don’t know… meet some other way."

You laughed, a sound that felt more freeing than anything you had ever experienced. "I didn’t expect it either. But here we are."

"Yeah," he said, grinning now. "Here we are."

And just like that, you both stood there, in the midst of the busy paddock, overwhelmed by the realization that everything you had shared in your minds for years was now physical, real, and right in front of you.

"What's your name, then? Mine is Paul."

You told him your name, smiling when he repeated it, as if testing the way it felt on his tongue.

Paul’s gaze softened as he stared at you, the same intensity and adoration you had always felt from him radiating in his eyes. "I’ve waited for this moment for so long. It feels… unreal."

You reached for his hand, your heart fluttering as your fingers brushed his. The sensation was electric, like every piece of you had clicked into place. "Me too," you whispered. "I’ve always known it was you, but now I can see you, and it’s more than I ever imagined."

He smiled, a tender, almost shy expression that made your heart swell. "So, you’re actually here… and I’m not dreaming?"

"I’m here, Blondie, or Paul," you reassured him softly. "And I’m never going anywhere else."

And then, without thinking, you both moved closer. You didn’t need words to tell him how much this moment meant.

You simply leaned in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that felt like the peak of everything you had been waiting for. Soft at first, but as if everything else in the world had faded, you deepened it, feeling a connection so deep it was almost overwhelming.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Paul rested his forehead against yours, his grip on your hands tight. "I can’t believe it. You’re here. We’re here."

You smiled, the weight of the years of waiting slowly lifting off your shoulders. "We’re here," you agreed, "and I’ll never leave."

He kissed you again, this time more passionately, as if he never wanted to let you go. And in that moment, you knew, more than ever, that no matter the distance, no matter the years, the connection you had was real.

You had finally found your way to each other.

[hauntingcryptids]

Tell Me That I Belong To You

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary - The Reader is having a bad day. So, with the convincing of The TARDIS, The Reader seeks comfort in The Master.

Based On This Request - *This was originally based on a request but the more I continued to write and edit it, the more the fic drifted away from the prompt. So, I am just going to let this be its own fic and write another fic more closely aligned to the prompt.

Warnings - Reader not feeling well, insecurity on the part of the reader, canon typical telepathy. (let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count - 1864

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. I have a smut version of this fic if anyone would like to read it, but I don’t want to post it if people would just prefer the fluff version. I also don’t know how good this is, but I just wanted to get something out there after feeling awful mentally for a while. So, I hope that you enjoy this :)!

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You woke up with a headache. The type of headache that no matter how much water you drank, food you ate, or sun(TARDIS created sun) you layed in would cure your malady. Headaches, in general, but especially ones as bad as the one you were experiencing, always made your whole day awful. Oftentimes, the pain in your head would cause you to spiral internally until your mental health was utterly destroyed. That’s where you were now, arguing to yourself in your head about you and your “Humanness” and how you weren’t good enough for The Master. How could you possibly be good enough for The Master? Even if you weren’t Human, why would he want to be with someone like you?

The TARDIS beeped determinedly. You were becoming better at understanding The TARDIS given how much time you had spent within the ship but still you could only understand part of what she was telling you. The bits you could discern were: “The Master loves you”, “you are good enough”, “you have always been enough”, and “The Master would never think such horrible things about you. Ever!”

Eventually, you stopped The TARDIS’s rant about how great you were and that she wished that she could help improve your self-image. You thanked her for everything she said. Even though didn’t understand everything, you could feel her distress over your thoughts and her want to help you.

“The Master could help you where I fail.” The TARDIS finally said telepathically.

“He’s probably busy, though.” You mumbled, worried about upsetting him if you interrupted him while he was doing something.

“Go to him. He wouldn’t want to know that you allowed yourself to suffer when he was there ready and available to help you.” The TARDIS had to say this statement a couple of times in order for you to fully understand, and you sighed in response. She was right. The Master would be furious if he found out that you hid your distress from him, you knew that, he said as much many times before. It’s just that your brain would lie to you when you were upset.

“The Master will understand.” The sentient time and spaceship whispered into your brain. The TARDIS, given her time being The Master’s ship, knew better than anyone how the state of a person’s physical health could affect their mental health. She knew how greatly The Master suffered, therefore The Master would never judge you. The TARDIS just hoped that you knew what she knew.

“Can you lead me to The Master, please?” You asked after ruminating over everything the incredibly kind ship communicated to you. The TARDIS cheerfully directed you to the main library where The Master often lounged. 

Like many times before, The Master was sitting horizontally on the sofa reading. He seemed engrossed in the thick tome resting up against his bent thigh. The alien’s engrossed demeanour made you want to turn back and talk to The Master later, but The TARDIS reassured you with a comforting presence. Both you and the ship knew that the only person who could make you happy when you were feeling off was the rogue Time Lord.

You walked up as quietly as you could and poked the Master’s cheek with your finger. The Master looked up at you with a smile, completely unbothered. Even while agonisingly planning an upcoming plan to toy with The Doctor, you would always bring him joy just with your presence. You were never a bother to him,

“Hello, my little Human. How are you today?” The Master seemed so calm even though you expected him to be upset. You wrapped your arms around your torso anxiously and subconsciously began rocking back and forth on your feet.

“Can I sit on your lap please, Master?” You sounded tired, which worried The Master, though he chose not to react for your benefit. 

“Of course, love.” The Master placed the book he was researching and moved slightly to allow you to sit on his lap. 

As soon as you rested your body against his, The Master scooted his body down the sofa until the two of you were practically lying down. The Master then wrapped his arms firmly around your back, trapping you against his chest with the beating of his hearts rattling throughout your body. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, causing The Master to chuckle lovingly. You then nuzzled against his clothes-covered collarbones and the base of his neck and then breathed in his scent. His presence was comforting, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Your mind still hurt and your thoughts still moved far too quickly for you to properly calm down. You assumed that your thoughts were loud, loud enough for The Master to hear, but you didn’t put any effort into hiding your thoughts. You just wanted to dissolve into The Master’s chest and to let all of your anxieties disappear.

“I’m sorry that you aren’t feeling well, Y/n.” The Master said softly against your ear. One of his hands absentmindedly caressed up and down your back.

“Make me feel good, Master, please. You’re the only one who can.” Your headache seemed to peak right before you committed yourself to asking The Master for some help. The warmth of The Master’s body against yours and the severe pain spiking through your head was too contrasting and too overwhelming to put on a brave face any longer.

“What kind of Master would I be if I didn’t take care of my beloved Human.” The feel of The Master’s smirk against your skin sparked a warmth to spread through you. The Master always made you feel better and more secure, but on bad days you just needed a bit more reassurance.

“Please tell me that you mean that?” 

“Of course I mean it, my love. You are the only person I could ever care about.” The Master adjusted slightly in order to look you in the eye. You shied away, avoiding eye contact, and The Master didn’t push you to look at him. Though he did brush a hand down the side of your face a couple of times before kissing your forehead delicately.

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable, love.” The Master said this to inform you that he would move the two of you. He would carry you places in The TARDIS without telling you where you were going when you were feeling like your everyday self, but not when you were feeling off. The Master never wanted to add to your anxiety, so he would always tell you when he would carry you off somewhere.

The Master moved the two of you so he was sitting up with you on his lap. He wrapped your legs around his waist and held you tightly against his chest before finally standing up with you securely in his arms. Then he carried you off to your shared bedroom. 

Once in the dark-themed and dimly lit bedroom, The Master gently placed you on the bed and wrapped you up in as many blankets as you wanted and needed. He stepped back from the bed momentarily to remove his clothes that were far inferior to yours when it came to the act of cuddling and resting. Eventually, he crawled under the covers to join you on the bed. He cuddled closer to you, holding you tighter than he did in the library, and then rubbed his hands up and down your back as you returned to your place cuddling into The Master’s side.

“What do you need, my love?”

“You.” You’re speech was muffled by The Master’s neck, but he still understood you.

“Yes, but what do you need me to do? I know that you are hiding something in that beautiful mind of yours.” You felt The Master softly tap a finger against your temple, a little jolt of calmness and relief coursing through you with each tap.

“You won’t laugh at me, will you?”

“Never.” The Master answered with sincerity heavy in his tone. You nervously mumbled your response under your breath and into his neck, making this comment more difficult for The Master to decipher.

“I couldn’t hear you, love.”

“Can you tell me I belong to you?” You asked a bit louder, but you were still quiet and nervousness permeated your question. The Master’s breath caught in his throat. He tried his best to hold in his excitement brought on by your request because this moment was about you. The idea of you belonging to him was exactly what The Master wanted, more than anything in the Universe, probably even the Multiverse. What added to his growing excitement and adoration of you was the fact that The Master didn’t even have to make you feel this way. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. Somehow, the stars aligned and they delivered the perfect person to The Master. What else could he do but give you whatever you wanted in an act of gratification?

“You belong to me, love. You always will belong to your Master. You’ll be mine forever.” The Master cuddled you impossibly closer, intertwining your bodies in a knot, and whispered into your ear with all the devotion and fervour he felt for you heavy on his tongue.

“And you really mean that -” You tried to ask again, but The Master cut you off before you could finish your insecurity-filled question. 

“Of course I mean that. I would never lie to you, especially about this.” This time when The Master moved to look you in the eye you didn’t turn away. His warm chocolate eyes held all of the sentiments that were laced within his words and even more. If it were possible, you would stare into his eyes forever. 

“Thank you, Master.”

“There is no need to thank me. You just need some rest and then you will feel better.” You huffed into The Master’s neck, just wishing that he would accept your gratitude without dismissing it.

“Come on, rest your head on my chest and close your eyes. I will deal with that headache and those pesky thoughts that were troubling you.” You did as The Master asked, already planning how you would repay The Master for everything he did for you today. 

As soon as you placed your head on The Master’s chest, the sound of his heartbeats immediately calmed you down and the pressure on your mind began to subside. The Master massaged his hands along your back, starting slowly along your neck and then moving further down toward the base of your spine. He smoothed every ache and worked out every knot and kink, all the while placing delicate kisses across your head and face. You heard him whispering praises in your ear, some in your native language and some in his. Even though you couldn’t understand everything he spoke to you, you knew that what he said was entirely comprised of his love. Because of The Master’s actions, you soon fell asleep. You were completely consumed by the rogue Time Lord’s presence, just like you wanted to be when the day began.

[spotsandsocks]

So many choices!! They all sound amazing!! I think I'll have to go with...

🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌

🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠

😧😧😧😧😧

😈😈😈😈😈

Happy writing!! 🥰

Hi thanks for getting me typing! I’m having so many ideas!!!

🛏️

Buck had made it through that by being remarkably interested in the words on a page that he’d reread six times and still not taken in by the time Eddie’s head was on the pillow.

Pretending to be absorbed in his book didn’t stop him noticing that Eddie was facing him, had his eyes open and was looking at him. He didn’t mind, he just noticed. He’d glanced over once and smiled down, Eddie has smiled back, looking sleepy and beautiful and said “Good book?”

He’d lied and said ‘riveting’.

That had made Eddie laugh because he could see the title and knew it was a book about the roles women took up during World War 2, including working on the planes and machinery needed, ‘riveting’ being a key part of that.

Eddie laughed at his joke, he’s pretty sure no one else would have.

They talked a little longer until Eddie’s eyelids had started to flutter and then he was asleep breathing slow and deep. Buck took his turn at watching then, but only for 30 seconds, because it’s creepy watching someone sleeping, then he’d turned the light off and prayed he’d keep to his side of the bed.

Morning light creeping through the curtains had revealed his success in that area. He’d stayed mostly where he was, albeit a little closer to the center now. Eddie too was much where he’d been when the lights were turned out, except his arm is outstretched almost like it was reaching for something.

Still sleepy Buck considers the possibility that maybe it was?

Deciding he can blame sleep he wiggles a little closer still until Eddie’s hand is close enough for his fingertips to touch Buck’s arm. Those fingertips are a little too cold actually so the kind, responsible thing to do is make sure Eddie stays warm.

The rest under hear cos I write long sentences and apparently 60 sentences gives you a very long post!! 😆

🧠 this was a prompt for buddie with telepathic bond from @steadfastsaturnsrings I hadn’t done anything with it but now I have … this is all there is for now… I’ll keep thinking about it

You get three people. That’s it. Three and you cant choose them until you're 16.

After that it’s down to personal preference, compatibility and your own heart.

Not everybody chooses and hardly anyone chooses three. It’s a big decision even stupid teenagers know that.

Buck’s first choice was Maddie. She’d asked if he was sure. She hadn’t chosen anyone yet even if she was so much older than him. Doug wasn’t a believer in taking the bond so he’d said no when she’d asked. She’d said yes to her brother and then she’d left him.

He’d never understood why.

So he’d never asked anyone again. He bonded with Maddie and then she was gone. Seemed like an omen to him.

The second bond happened without him realising it, and neither of them kniw exactly when it happened but he must have wanted it and so must Eddie because you can’t bond without consent.

However the first time he heard Eddie’s voice in his mind was when he’d been buried by 40 feet of mud and Buck was insisting he was alive when he could see the fear in everyone else’s eyes that his best friend was already lost.

😧 amnesia fic

“Hey, no need to scowl at the juice, it’s not done anything wrong.”

That’s a matter of opinion but Josephine’s smile is gentle, she understands how frustrating it is to be stuck like this, not a damn clue who he is or where he belongs. And he does belong somewhere, he knows he does. The ache in his chest proves it, it burns constantly, a deep furious conviction that he has to be somewhere else, has to get back to something important.

The something remains a mystery but he thinks it has to be a family. He just feels like he has a family somewhere and he has to find them again. They probably think he’s dead and he’s not, he’s just lost. Lost everything it feels like.

He tries to remember but there’s just a dark void at the center of him; cold and empty. That’s wrong, he knows that, so wrong, there should be light and laughter and warmth there. He remembers the feeling even if he can’t remember what put it there. He rubs at the ache in his chest constantly, trying to soothe it away, and from there each time his fingers reach for something around his neck that's absent.

Each time his fingers seek and find nothing, he doesn’t know what’s missing, only that he misses it. It makes his eyes sting. He wants to remember what’s missing so badly.

😈 demon!Eddie

Eddie stands there, waiting patiently, allowing the witch who owns and runs this place to sense him and prepare herself. It’s only polite after all, no one likes an unexpected demon even if they’re technically an old friend.

As he waits Eddie lets the peace of this place soak into him. The light that manages to make it through the dusty windows is warm and casts soft shadows across the floor. The air is filled with the scent of old paper and leather, hints of herbs and spices lingering too. Against the walls various cabinets, bookcases and shelves are crammed full of a range of trinkets and treasures, some fake, some genuine, some just ordinary things because even the customers who come here need candles and matches as well as the more interesting things you can purchase here. Eddie’s not here for matches, nor the more esoteric items on sale. He just wants to talk. He has questions and he thinks that this is where he’ll find the answers.

Still and quiet he waits until she’s ready and before too long the curtain to the back room of the store moves and he’s not alone anymore.

She’s cautious because she’s old and she’s wise and she knows that even old friends like him require watching carefully if you want to stay being old.

“Your Highness” her eyes twinkle because she knows how much he hates that, “you honor my humble business with your presence.”

The lady steps forward glorious and beautiful, dark skin glowing, warm eyes teasing him and the curve of her mouth telling him she thinks she’s funny. Eddie narrows his eyes, she’d better not even think about bowing.

“Linda, you know I hate it when you do that.

[rumpykamon]

Hot take: The trial was Armand’s idea

Lemme explain (long thread):

1. There’s no way on Earth he didn’t hear the thoughts and discussions of the coven. Him being in love is just another reason why he’d listen to them 24/7.

1.b. No way he couldn’t hear Santiago’s thoughts while rehearsing the play. Honey doesn’t own a private channel for the everyone to hear but Armand.

2. Of course he could’ve stopped the trial anytime the same way he did at the restaurant, but he did not.

3. We never saw the « choice » that was given to him. Was it a Maitre swap with Santiago ? And in exchange -he- could’ve set up the trial so he…

4. Could get rid of Claudia once and for all and make sure she wouldn’t be a threat after Lestat’s attempted murder.

5. About Lestat’s: who’s been seen in episode 5 calling him telepathically through distances ? Right, I don’t think the members of the coven were powerful enough to cross an entire ocean.

6. Armand is the only one who knows EVERYTHING about what happened in New Orleans, I doubt the coven would have so many details about what happened, to the point of making an entire animated movie just from Lestat’s recalling, who’s constantly interrupting the trial to deny what’s being said, nor from Claudia’s gossiping in her diary (remember she wasn’t writing anything down, it was mutiny, she couldn’t keep any trace of what they were preparing. That’s why Antoinette was useful to Lestat).

7. Do you have any idea how BIG the lense of Meudon’s observatory is ? It’s HUGE. There’s no way they’d have stolen all that crap and Armand wouldn’t have noticed. Even if he lived with Louis by then.

8. How the fuck didn’t anybody notice Claudia’s diaries missing ? ‘Cause Armand knew about them and brought them back home to ease any suspicion.

9. Armand knew the coven was aware of Louis and Claudia’s situation at the very least when he caught Santiago lurking on them, so he knew they’d act upon it.

10. I don’t believe for a single second Armand wiped Louis’s memory of San Francisco but left him the entire clear HD memories of the day he lost his beloved sister. The trial is a lie.

11. No better way to make Louis hate Lestat than making him responsible for Claudia’s death. Louis wouldn’t have anyone else to go to but Armand.

11.b. To be fair Lestat didn’t seem to appreciate much what was going on either, so, might have been Armand’s revenge over Lestat as well.

12. Armand’s gonna save Louis from the coffin, couldn’t get there if the coven didn’t let him. Why would they let him roam free if they didn’t heave an agreement ? And if they didn’t, how would Armand be powerful enough to fight them then and not before the killing ? Why would he react only AFTER the killing if he was able to burn the coven whenever he wanted ?

Bonus point: they’re all stage actors AND vampires. So Santiago would never be such a bad actor as to genuinely stutter in front of the audience, nor agitate himself to cut the movie, he’d say so telepathically.

It’s all make believe so they -all- get what they want out of that trial.

[paintingwhiteceilings]

My request is completely self-indulgent but if you want to can you write for seventeen reaction to their S/O preferably she/her pronounce but u can change it you want having a twin brother?? Also I apologize if by any chance you see this request repeated multiple times in your inbox it’s just my internet connection being slow and weak asf 👎🏽

❃Seventeen and their S/O’s siblings❃

Ahhh so sorry this took as long as it did! I had a crazy few weeks and somehow my asks ended up under a pile of notifications. I mayyy have changed the ask to a general sibling prompt. I don't really know any twins so I don't think I could successfully write that kind of sibling dynamic repeatedly and get away with it. Instead, I included a variety of different sibling dynamics (with a couple of twin brothers); I hope you don't mind!

Scoups/Seungcheol:

❀ When you finally decided to introduce Coups to your older siblings, you hadn’t really been worried about whether they would like him or not. After all, he is very responsible and mature, being in charge of his twelve younger members; it wouldn’t be too difficult for your older siblings to trust him with their youngest.

❀ What you hadn’t been expecting, however, is for them to love him and treat him as if he was their own younger brother. Being the youngest in his own family and, let’s be fair, a pouty, whiny baby in Seventeen, he easily fell into the role of the youngest once he shook off his initial shyness and your siblings ate it up.

❀ Even worse, where you often struggle to get your siblings to do anything for you, all Coups has to do is pout or act cute, and they will sacrifice the world for him. They will even offer to pay for his meals and take him out to fun family activities regardless of whether you are able to make it. You’re half convinced Coups has become the favourite because he has no problem with spending an insane amount of money on your family, and he refuses to let them pay for anything.

❀ Yeah, needless to say, you’re feeling a bit salty about the whole situation. That was until Coups took you to meet his family, and you immediately became their favourite adopted child; it felt like the universe had righted itself once more.

Jeonghan:

❀ You regret introducing Jeonghan to your twin brother; for the past few hours, during your mandatory weekly family game night, he has been whispering in your ear that you should tap into your twin bond so that you can predict your brother's strategy. Jeonghan is absolutely adamant you two have a telepathic bond; he won't listen to you repeatedly telling him that you can't read your brother's mind just because you are twins.

❀ He will definitely try to figure out how to use the twin exploit to his advantage. Jeonghan will find a way to use this newly discovered information for chaos, either to prank someone else or to get his hands on new teasing material from the person closest to you.

❀ He will absolutely try to convince his members that he just happened to stumble on your male doppelgänger if you look anything alike, exclaiming in wonder that you two have even been born on the same day. Truly, what a coincidence.

❀ Overall, he would become such good friends with your twin brother; Jeonghan has such a charming and calming personality that it is difficult not to get along with him. Jeonghan also strikes me as the type of person who would put a lot of effort into getting along with their significant other's family, spending time with them whenever he can in order to maintain a good bond. 

Joshua:

❀ Joshua is the prime example of the naive only child unprepared for the stuff that siblings put each other through. Sure, Joshua technically got saddled up with twelve brothers after joining Seventeen. However, he didn’t have to deal with siblings and their shenanigans for most of his childhood, leaving the concept of fighting over the last piece of cake, not because you want it yourself but because you don't want your sibling to have it, a bit foreign to him.

❀ He is trying so hard to maintain the peace when you and your younger sister get into another heated argument when you discover she has borrowed a piece of clothing of yours without asking. Your parents love him, as when he is around, they can finally take a break and let him defuse the situation.

❀ Your little sister adores him, too; Joshua has a lot of arts and crafts days with her, where he teaches her how to make bracelets and knit scarves. They even made you a bracelet together; it almost made you forget about her remarks on how Joshua is her favourite older sibling.

❀ At this point, your little sister listens more to Joshua than you. Whenever you want her to do something, and she isn't listening to you, you have now resorted to simply calling him. For some reason, his asking her in a sweet voice to let you use the bathroom seems to work without fail.

Jun:

❀ It doesn't really matter whether you have older or younger siblings; Jun is THE person to bring home. On the one hand, when it comes to younger siblings, he is their favourite playmate and the person they turn to for advice. When it comes to older siblings, on the other hand, he will be cherished and loved as if he were their youngest brother.

❀ He truly shines when it comes to younger siblings, though. Jun is shameless when he plays with your younger siblings; he will crawl over the floor as if he is a snake or meow like a cat for hours on end. His acting skills are definitely paying off, and he will fully commit to whatever role your younger siblings need him to play. In all honesty, he enjoys playing with your siblings as much as they do; he is such a kid at heart.

❀ Jun is also THE person for advice. He never judges them and he is always willing to hear them out about whatever is troubling them. It doesn't leave the room either. He will never share whatever they confided in him with you unless they specifically have told him it is okay to do so.

❀ Honestly, your siblings will be threatening you to not break his heart or break up with him. They adore him and have already begun planning your wedding; you're stuck with him now.

Hoshi/Soonyoung:

❀ Initially, you were incredibly worried about introducing this delusion tiger man to your older sister because you were sure that she would ask you whether you wanted to date a madman. You forgot, however, that Hoshi can be incredibly shy when meeting people for the first time. He is so timid, glancing over at you for assurance every so often, that your sister has to pull you aside to ask whether this man truly is the same insane one you have described in your stories.

❀ He acts shyer and younger around your older sister, reverting to his younger brother role, and she dotes on him so much. He gets a lot calmer around your sister, and quite often, he tends to sit back to watch the two of you bicker back and forth, reminding him of his older sister.

❀ In your sister's eyes, he is the perfect boyfriend for you. He always texts her whenever he wants to buy you something, double-checking with her whether you will like the gift. Their private chat consists mostly of your sister sending him gift ideas based on what you mentioned or looked at during your last shopping trip.

❀ You have repeatedly told her to stop supporting his delusional tiger agenda. Whenever she sees anything tiger-related, she makes sure to buy it to gift to Hoshi the next time you meet up with her. She even goes to the extent of scolding you when you tell him to knock it off.

❀ After he gets more comfortable and his crazy side comes out to play, she will lean over to you to ask whether you have replaced him with a clone.

Wonwoo:

❀ Wonwoo can be incredibly introverted and shy, so when you proposed introducing him to your twin brother, he had a full-on mental breakdown, pestering Mingyu constantly for advice. He knew that you were very close to your twin brother, and it would mean the world to you for the both of them to get along nicely. He couldn't afford to mess this up.

❀ Initially, the meet-up was incredibly awkward, neither saying very much and, instead, sending you countless help-me-out glances. Fortunately, you knew exactly what topic to bring up to get the two socially inept souls talking: video games. You hadn't been particularly worried about the two not getting along, knowing that both of them were enthusiastic gamers.

❀ Nevertheless, a part of you slowly started regretting bringing up video games. The two had been discussing LoL and PUBG strategies for the past hour, and even though it was interesting, you would appreciate the occasional change in topic.

❀ Even worse, after the two of them exchanged user names, you now have to share your boyfriend with your twin. At this point, Wonwoo is spending more time with your brother duoing on Valorant than taking you on dates.

Woozi/Jihoon:

❀ All the training Seventeen has given him, preparing him for the day he would get a significant other with siblings, has been for nought. He still acts like he has never seen a child before upon entering your house. He is so worried that he will mess this up that you can see his hands shaking as he stares at your younger siblings.

❀ Fortunately, Woozi has a superpower; he is loaded and doesn't care to spend it on himself. The moment he offers to buy your younger siblings food with his black card is the moment he becomes their all-time favourite person. Armed with this valuable information, he spoils them rotten; your siblings only have to mention something or point at something in a display, and he will almost trip over himself to get it.

❀ You have tried getting him to stop, as you don’t want your siblings to continuously expect expensive gifts, but Woozi refuses to listen. Just as he does with Seventeen, he treats them like his own family, ensuring that they know he treasures them by burying them underneath a pile of gifts.

❀ One of your younger brothers is convinced he is Iron Man or Batman because someone that rich surely must be a superhero. You may have accidentally let it slip and told Woozi. He has never been more determined to empty out his bank account.

DK/Seokmin:

❀ DK is one of those people that is immediately loved by your family. He is such a sweet and happy person; how can anyone not fall in love with him? DK, in addition to that, is one of those types of people who want to be close to their partner's family and dedicate a lot of time to hanging out with them.

❀ He is perfect boyfriend material when it comes to dealing with your younger sibling, spending hours and hours playing hide and seek with them. In all honesty, DK is far more energetic than your younger siblings, and after spending an afternoon running around with him, they always immediately pass out.

❀ DK is so thoughtful when it comes to older siblings. He makes sure to put reminders for their birthdays on his phone, and he always seems to remember whatever they briefly mentioned wanting for a gift during a conversation five years ago. Does your older sister like theatre? Well, guess what. DK somehow managed to get his hands on tickets for that new popular musical. He only spent the past five hours calling every actor in his contact list to ask whether they could get him in. 

❀ DK would absolutely love to have a big in-law family with many older and younger siblings to surround him. The constant chatter and energy remind him of Seventeen, and, in his opinion, nothing beats that. 

Mingyu:

❀ Hear me out. Mingyu is husband material and the dream of every mother-in-law. That being said, your siblings at first couldn't stand him. It wasn't even anything Mingyu did, but from the moment he stepped into your house and met your mother, she completely fell in love with him.

❀ She keeps comparing Mingyu to them. They can't escape her mentioning Mingyu and his amazing qualities in every other conversation, resulting in a bit of resentment. “Mingyu would cook for me.” “I wouldn’t have to ask Mingyu to put his laundry in the basket.” “Mingyu would at least offer to help me clean the house.” 

❀ They would have been able to ignore her if the guy had any flaws, but no, the guy is tall, handsome, rich, talented and intelligent. They begrudgingly admit that maybe they could be more like him, and the world would be better off for it. They also have to begrudgingly admit that they too, are completely charmed by Mingyu.

❀ Poor Mingyu thinks that he has done something wrong and that they absolutely hate his guts. However, when Mingyu reveals he had a rough week due to an insane amount of random hate comments on his Instagram, they surprise him by declaring war. They have been fuming behind their laptops, insulting anyone who dares to hate on Mingyu. It made him tear up.

The8/Minghao:

❀ He was incredibly anxious when you wanted to introduce your little sister to him; sure, he is good with children, but he never had to deal with younger siblings. Even within Seventeen, he is one of the younger ones, and he already struggles to keep up with the chaos of his twelve members, lovingly (but harshly) scolding them whenever they tired him out. What if he accidentally loses it when your little sister bounces off the walls and insults her, forever damaging her self-esteem???

❀ Well, he had nothing to worry about. Sure, it takes him a second to realize that philosophical discussions with a barely ten-year-old won’t work, but the moment he discovers that your sister likes dressing up and drawing, he knows he will do fine.

❀ He organizes an entire fashion show for her and helps her assemble the most stylish outfits. Every morning, your little sister forces you to send Minghao pictures of her outfits, and he never fails to send a heartfelt compliment back.

❀ Moreover, Minghao spends many afternoons teaching her to throw paint at canvases. One of the paintings hangs proudly in his apartment for everyone to see, and another has replaced you as his phone background. You would be upset if it wasn’t so adorable.

Seungkwan:

❀ Seungkwan fits right in with your older sisters. Maybe it is because he has two older sisters himself, but somehow, it's as if he always has been a part of your family. You feel like he broke a record as he got them to love him in less than five minutes.

❀ The three of them have a private group chat where they share the latest tea and gossip. Neither party knows any of the people the other mentions. Still, whenever anything remotely exciting happens, it will be discussed at length in the chat.

❀ Recently, they have upgraded to calling, and Sarah-from-work's not-so-subtle move on their married boss may have interrupted your date. Then again, you were quite invested in what Sarah-from-work did this time as well, making Seungkwan put them on speaker.

❀ He is so comfortable with your sisters that they have no issue roasting each other. The moment they hurl an insult at you, he has got your back, ready with an arsenal of embarrassing moments they entrusted him with. It never fails to make you love him more.

Vernon:

❀ When you told your older brother that you had a boyfriend, he was ready to give them a good talking to, intimidating them the way an older brother should. However, the moment you introduced Vernon to him, his entire game plan went out of the window. Your brother quite quickly realized that Vernon had drunk enough respect-women-juice that he would never intentionally hurt you.

❀ Moreover, the two of them connected over some obscure film that you had never heard of. They spent most of the evening discussing what they thought of its plot and how the cinematography masterfully added to the atmosphere in the scenes. You could tell that your brother was impressed by how well-articulated and well-thought-out his points were.

❀ At the end of the evening, your brother has completely forgotten about the if-you-hurt-my-sister talk he was supposed to have. The two of them even make plans to go to an indie film that is releasing in art cinemas next week.

❀ That being said, I do not think Vernon would be the type of person who needs to be best friends with your siblings. Sure, he would want to be friendly with them and would not be opposed to the occasional hang-out, but he wouldn’t go out of his way to do stuff with them one-on-one.

Dino/Chan:

❀ It doesn’t really matter whether you have younger or older siblings. Dino is used to both. He grew up with a younger brother and is fully aware of how annoying they can be and how much responsibility you feel towards them as the older one. Dino also has had to deal with twelve annoying older brothers who don’t let him breathe.

❀ Bro is ready with the quick comebacks. Do your siblings want to tease him about something potentially embarrassing he did? Good luck. His members have completely desensitized him. Do your siblings betray him in a game of Risk? He won’t get upset; his members have tried sacrificing him in games even when it wasn’t needed.

❀ Your siblings can’t help but be impressed by how witty and quick he is. When he mentions it to his members, they have the audacity to tell him that this has been part of their plan all along. He definitely believes them when they argue that all the years of teasing and borderline physical harm were for the day he would meet his partner’s sibling, easily able to remain calm regardless of whatever teasing remark was thrown his way.

❀ “What if my partner would have been an only child?” They suddenly get really quiet. The wall has become interesting.

masterlist

[the-way-astray]

“ask box is finally open” ok write an essay on fintan. go.

no, thanks. i think you got that covered. how about i give you random, assorted fintan thoughts, fanfic ideas, and headcanons instead:

thinking about that moment in everblaze during the healing scene where he says "his identity dies with me" about the pyrokinetic he's protecting right before the entire building goes up in flames. was he planning on killing himself to protect brant? everblaze harms pyrokinetics, so he knew that it would harm him. the other option, of course, is that he was willing to take the risk of everblaze to try to kill someone else so that he could escape. everyone was canonically wearing fire-resistant clothing, so he couldn't have done any damage to them with regular fire.

how did he even actually escape oblivimyre? he couldn't have had a leaping crystal on him, or someone would've found it. did the neverseen hide a crystal in eternalia somewhere for emergency scenarios?

this post by quil inspired an au idea where bronte is a telepath, and is responsible for shattering fintan's sanity instead of alden, and fintan is just horny for him the whole time he's doing it and it makes bronte super uncomfortable.

HIS CIRCLET COLOR WAS BLUE. THE SAME BLUE AS HIS EYES, WHICH IS SKY BLUE. also fintan loves cool colors. he dresses in them frequently.

there's a very good chance that he's one of the councillors that threw vespera in the dungeon, since he knows about her existence, and he also knows all the secrets in his cache. so there's some tension between the two of them, even though it was his plan that ultimately set her free. it's kind of like him supporting the pyrokinesis ban, but also being the one that'll likely get it unbanned (indirectly through marella). he's all about breaking cycles that he himself started. something about guilt and admitting you're wrong to yourself, but being too proud to admit it to everyone else.

he served at the same time as fallon vacker, and was present during the story bronte told in neverseen about meeting king gowg. this means he was councillor while bronte was emissary. i think this is how they met, and how their "long history" started.

he was messing with keefe the entire time he was with the neverseen, like pretending to be drunk to mislead him. there were easier, better, safer ways to lead keefe down the wrong path than pretending to be drunk, but this is fintan, and he's dramatic.

alden had a celebrity crush on him. i don't make the rules here.

HIS HAIR IS LONG. IT'S SHOULDER BLADE-LENGTH. PLEASE, I BEG.

he wears lots and lots of jewelry. all the time. he's so extra like that. also all the jewelry is blue/green/purple because he's a cool colors guy.

fintan seems to regret his time as a councillor, not just what he did to get pyrokinesis banned. in neverseen, he says that when he was a councillor, all he did was sit back and do nothing. so there's a possibility that he might've written off important things as nothing or something along those lines. people might've come to him with appeals to reform exillium or exile, or fix the separation between the talentless and the talented, and he might've refused. either way, there's something else he regrets. it might be in his cache.

what's your beef with ruy, man? there's something there canonically. i need to know. it's so juicy. gethen also hired ruy to the neverseen, so i imagine he's more partial to ruy, which means fintan may or may not also have beef with gethen.

he talks to himself in the mirror. shut up. i know he does.

when he faked his death, he wanted to immediately reveal himself as alive again, and it was only the collective cooperation of the other neverseen members that stopped him for so long.

HE HAS A FLAT FUCKING ASS. FLAT AS A FUCKING PANCAKE THAT GOT FLATTENED EVEN MORE. IT ISN'T CONCAVE, IT ISN'T BULBOUS. IT IS FLAT.

he wears heels to make himself feel taller, because even though he's tall (6'2"), he wants to be towering.

he probably found vespera's journals somehow. but how? did lady gisela show them to him? is that how she got her acceptance into the neverseen? vespera's main philosophy is ruthlessness, which fintan would agree with, but in a less intense way than vespera, i feel.

he probably heard brant gush about jolie a lot. i bet that was funny, since he was probably utterly disinterested. "so, it's about time you learned to summon bigger balls of everblaze. here's how t-" "FINTAN. JOLIE CALLED ME PRETTY TODAY" "wow. i would've never known . . . "

how did brant even reach out to him about manifesting? probably he hailed him or something. but remember, fintan's an ancient. so i doubt brant would've been able to properly get ahold of him (like how fallon wouldn't open the door for alden in nightfall). so did brant like burn down his door and scream ALRIGHT BITCH I NEED SOME LESSONS to get fintan's attention or something?

or was it the opposite? did fintan somehow know that brant was a pyrokinetic and reach out to him? if so, how? maybe he keeps tabs on everyone who's considered "talentless" and checks up on them to make sure they aren't exhibiting signs of being a pyrokinetic or something? if so, that's kind of sweet, not gonna lie.

it isn't an essay, but i hope i satisfied your greedy little fintan heart

[blessedbyahuntress]

Just the Eldest Foster

Chapter One: Excuse My Sister, She's a Telepath. Now, What Were You Saying?

Warnings: Some swearing. Fitz

Word Count: 1.3k

“Miss Foster!” 

You sucked in a breath, going to yank your sister’s earbuds out by the cords before your teacher, Mr. Sweeney, could. 

It didn’t stop Mr. Sweeney from berating Sophie, though. “Have you decided that you’re too smart to pay attention to this information?”

You winced when you heard your sister’s mumbled response. “No, Mr. Sweeney.”

You were a year older than Sophie, but were often mistaken for the younger sibling, being a few centimeters shorter than her. Yet you made up for it in spirit- or, in many people’s opinion, annoyingness. You tried to stand out- hence the pastel clothes- and you often stood up for your sister when she got picked on. 

“Then perhaps you can explain why you were listening to your iPod instead of following along?” Mr. Sweeney asked.

You put your hands on your hips, jutting out your chin. “Then perhaps you can explain why you’re bugging her about music instead of teaching? Though I highly doubt anyone here would like to continue listening to your awful lesson, so by all means, keep going.”

A chorus of ooo’s echoed throughout the high school seniors. Mr. Sweeney’s nostrils flared. 

“Well then, Miss Y/N Foster, if my lesson is that boring, why don’t you explain to the class how the Lambeosaurus differs from the other dinosaurs we’ve studied?” His voice was dripping with ice. 

You smirked. “Gladly,” you said, fixing your teacher with your oddly colored eyes- one brown, the other blue with silver flecks. 

You remembered every fact you had seen on the information card in front of the display, and you recited everything you could think of. You didn’t have photographic memory like Sophie, but you did have eidetic memory- you could recall an image from memory with high precision, for at least a brief amount of time.

Mr. Sweeney scowled, and Sophie grabbed your forearm to get you to stop talking. Satisfied that you would stop shut up now, your teacher stalked away.

“You need to stop-” Sophie started.

“Nice job, superfreaks,” Garwin Chang sneered as tried to push you out of his way, only to frown when you didn’t budge. “Maybe they’ll write another article about you two. ‘Child Prodigy Teaches Class About the Lame-o-saurus.’” 

You shoved him with one hand, smirking when he stumbled back a step. “It’s Lambeosaurus. See, this is why you didn’t get into Yale.”

You kept smirking as he grabbed the collar of your shirt, lifting you off the ground. “You little-”

And then Garwin released his grip, causing you to fall on your bottom. You looked up in confusion, only to see him holding his hand to his eye. 

Nearly all of your attention was focused on the boy standing next to you. He was tall with dark hair, one fist clenched, the other gripping yesterday’s newspaper- the one with you and Sophie’s photo on the front. 

“Hasn’t anyone ever taught you not to assault a woman?” The boy shot you a glance, but you completely missed it, a smile flitting across your face as you watched Garwin’s reaction.

Garwin huffed and turned on his heels. “This isn’t over, odd eyes.”

As he stalked away, your rescuer turned toward you fully. His eyes met yours for the first time, and his widened. “You really do have odd eyes.”

You scowled and looked at Sophie, but your sister was just standing there, unhelpfully making heart eyes at the boy. 

The boy shook his head, as if clearing unwanted thoughts from his mind. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine,” you lied. “I’m used to it.” 

The boy gave you a sympathetic look, offering you a hand. You finally realized you’d still been sitting on the ground. The boy gently pulled you to your feet, and you dusted off your jeans.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

“No problem,” he replied, looking between you and Sophie. He pointed to the newspaper. “Is this you?”

You raised your eyebrows at Sophie as she nodded. She looked so starstruck, you nearly snickered. 

“Yep,” you said simply.

“I thought so.” This time he addressed Sophie. “I didn’t realize your eyes were brown.”

“Uh… yeah. Why?” Your sister looked rather puzzled.

He shrugged. “No reason,” he said.

You had the feeling that you knew what Sophie was about to say, and you made a move to put a hand over her mouth, but not before she blurted, “are you in this class?”

You gave an exasperated sigh. Of course he wasn’t in your class!

But he only smiled. “No.” You really wanted to place his accent, but you just couldn’t. 

He pointed to an Albertosaurus. “Tell me something. Do you really think that’s what they looked like? It’s a little absurd, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Sophie said at the same time as you said, “definitely.”

Your sister turned to you, eyebrows furrowed. “Why? What do you think they looked like?” She asked.

Before you could think of a response- to be frank, you couldn’t think of a reason, it just didn’t seem right to picture a creature as ugly as that existed- the boy cut in with a laugh. “Never mind. I’ll let you get back to your class. It was nice to meet you Sophie, Y/N.”

He turned to leave, but two classes of small children barged into the fossil exhibit. You watched a look of pain cross both of Sophie’s and the strange boy’s face. Rushing over and rubbing your sister’s back with comforting circles, you watched the boy’s reaction. 

“Did you just… hear that?” He asked in a soft voice. 

You knew what he was talking about- Sophie had told you about the voices, about hearing the thoughts of everyone except you. 

Sophie paled. 

“Who are you?” You demanded. “I thought only my sister could hear the thoughts of others.”

You reached out and gave Sophie’s hand a squeeze. 

“So you did.” He leaned in closer. “Are you a Telepath?” 

“Don’t react, don’t react, don’t react,” you repeated under your breath, clutching Sophie’s hand tighter as if you could will her not to flinch.

She did.

“You are!” The boy whispered. “I can’t believe it!” 

Still holding your sister’s hand, you started dragging her toward the exit. Sophie didn’t protest; she seemed frozen with shock. 

“Wait!” The boy said. “It’s okay! You don’t have to be afraid. I’m one too.”

He glanced at you for a split second, and his eyes conveyed his confliction. 

“My… name’s… Fitz.” He couldn’t seem to speak without hesitating under your sharp multicolored glare. 

“Well, Fitz.” Your voice was almost as piercing as your eyes. “We’ll be leaving now.”

That seemed to snap all of said hesitation away. He took a few steps toward you and grabbed your forearm. You looked down at his hand in both uncomfortability and slight anger. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m here to help you. We’ve been looking for you for thirteen years.”

You felt your eyes widen and your mouth open to ask one of the questions swirling around your mind. 

But then it was Sophie’s turn to drag you through the doors. 

“Sophie, Y/N! Come back!” Fitz shouted. The footsteps that sounded behind you indicated that the boy was following you. 

You had always been the more athletic sibling, and soon it was you pulling Sophie along. 

Yet you could hear Fitz gaining on you, so you poured on the speed. 

You felt Sophie freeze as you were halfway across a crosswalk, making you whip your head toward the sound of screeching tires. Shit.

You were surely going to die.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

Hey there! Your fic for Larissa Weems - absolutely phenomenal!

I was wondering if you’d be interested in writing reader x Larissa Weems, where imagine Larissa has a familiar (an ancient being, that considered most dangerous) and while being in a relationship with the reader, she’s a bit afraid how the reader would react learning of the familiar. So perhaps one day she comes back home and finds reader talking to the familiar and then finds out that the reader had met that being long time ago and they held conversations whenever they could. Perhaps reader met that being first time while waiting to pick up Larissa for their first date, and the families decided to check who that person was. No pressure and if it won’t be something you’d be interested in - you’re still awesome! Thanks!

GATSBY’S APPROVAL 

pairing: larissa weems x outcast!reader

word count: 986

notes and warnings: ty for the request,, i hope i understood it correctly <3 lmao mr gatsby isnt very ancient or dangerous but he’s a cutie who enjoys pate.. also this is not proofread. 

The cat stalked towards you, its eyes focusing on you alone. Its eyes bore into your own, and you extended a greeting towards it. 

As an outcast you had been able to speak to animals all your life – the communication did not take place physically, but messages came and were sent through your mind, a sort of spiritual awareness of signals put into words. Some would call it telepathic. 

The cat sat down next to where you were waiting outside the restaurant. The line to get a table had extended slightly out the door, and you were caught in the crisp evening air of the coming night. You were beyond terrified for your date – you were meant to be getting a table for you and Larissa Weems, and you had even come an hour early to get a table and prepare yourself. 

‘It’s nice when the sun goes down and the city cools down,’ the cat said to you, the words ringing through your mind. You glanced down at him, noticing the little tuft of white underneath his chin, the only white occupying his otherwise completely ginger-furred body. 

‘I must admit, I do prefer it a bit warmer.’ You said. ‘How did you know I would understand you?’ You shifted your vision back to the person in front of you in line. To anyone else it would have looked like you and the cat were merely glancing at each other, but you didn’t want to take any chances, especially in this part of Jericho. 

The cat did not respond to this, flicking its tail and sighing before changing the subject. ‘You seem nervous. Have you any plans for tonight?’ 

‘A date,’ you responded reluctantly. ‘And she seems wonderful. I’m terrified of fucking it up.’ 

The animal only hummed in response. 

‘She’s an outcast, too.’ 

‘What do you admire about her?’ 

‘She’s strong,’ you said, ‘and so intelligent. She runs all of Nevermore by herself, and somehow she still puts all she has into everything she does. She doesn’t let anything shake her.’ 

The cat seemed satisfied with this response. It nibbled at one of its paws before stretching and coming to a stand. ‘If you tell me your address, I’ll come by tomorrow and you can tell me all about it.’ 

–

Your date with Larissa went spectacularly. The two of you spent the whole night at the restaurant, your evening colored with wine and jazz, an ambience that calmed all of your nerves and had you hanging onto every word Larissa spoke. The two of you relished in your contentment, and when finally you parted and you reflected on the evening, you truly realized how blissful it had been. 

True to his word, the cat appeared at your windowsill the next morning. He waited impatiently for you, his bright green eyes almost searing through the window. When you let him in he jumped onto your kitchen counter, closely examining your breakfast. 

‘I don’t have any mice, if that’s what you’re after,’ you told him. 

He looked a bit offended at this, as if feasting on mice was so far beneath him that he couldn’t fathom that anyone would do such a thing at all. ‘I am far more civilized than the mangy beasts running the streets. I prefer canned food, specifically chicken pâté. If you’re out, however, fish will be just fine.’  

You stifled a laugh, nodding. ‘I take it you’re not an outdoor cat?’ 

‘I go where I please.’ 

‘I admire your grammar, by the way. You have an amazing vocabulary.’ 

The cat seemed proud of himself, and you offered him a bit of bacon, which he gladly took. 

Every morning at about the same time the two of you would spend breakfast together. You had acquired quite a collection of canned cat foods, and the two of you would spend the mornings at your kitchen counter. You told the cat about all of your dates with Larissa, listing off every play you went to and every Nevermore event at which you accompanied her. 

Around two months into your relationship, you had decided to bring Larissa lunch to her office. She had been in a hurry to get to work after waking up late, and hadn’t packed anything. You had stopped at her favorite restaurant and had gotten an order to go, rushing to Nevermore as quickly as you could during her lunch break. 

Upon reaching her office you had not heard her talking to anyone, and she was  still on her break, so you didn’t bother with knocking on her door. 

When you entered, unannounced, a certain orange cat was perched on the edge of her desk. 

Larissa’s eyes widened upon seeing you, and her glance flitted between you and the cat. “Gatsby,” she hissed, “get down.” 

You smirked. “Gatsby? Really?” 

The cat glared at you, flicking his tail as he settled by the fireplace. ‘At least my name is far from basic, unlike some of us.’ 

“Don’t be rude,” Larissa chided, but after a moment she realized her mistake, that others couldn’t understand the words of animals. She turned to you, attempting to salvage what she could. “You know, that flick of the tail, it was a bit…”  

You fought back a laugh. “It’s okay. I understand them, too.” 

She sighed in relief. “I can only understand him. Some would call him my familiar.” 

“Ah, so you’re the one that’s made him into a pâté critic?” 

She furrowed her eyebrows. “The two of you know each other?” 

“We have breakfast together almost every morning.” 

Larissa nodded, beginning to understand. “So that’s where he’s been sneaking off to recently.” 

‘I haven’t been sneaking off,’ Gatsby claimed, ‘I’ve been ensuring that your affection is well-placed.’ 

‘And is it?’ you prompted. 

He pondered it for a moment, his eyes twinkling in the fire. ‘I would say so, yes.’ 

And with Gatsby’s approval, all was in place. 

---- 

taglist: @thedeconstructionist @cordeliass @mayfair-fleur @traumatisedfangirl @paulsonsratched @goodeday2u 

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Character voice

Thanks to @willtheweaver here and here, @somethingclevermahogony here, @the-golden-comet here and here, and @illarian-rambling here, and @mysticstarlightduck here!

Rules: write the given line in the voice of your characters!

I swear I don't let these build up intentionally! It's just that I seem to only get tagged in giant spurts and it's only when I'm busy! I get tired and it's hard to think about these responses.

Anyways, under the cut.

"Don't worry! I'm fine! (Lie)"

Lexi: "Nononono, seriously, I'm totally fine! No need to worry about me! I know what I can and cannot handle."

Maddie: "Why is everyone worried about me? I'm fine. Wade healed me. Who cares?"

Ash: "Pfft. Cmon, there's no need to worry, Lex. If there was a problem, I'd stop it. No need to worry."

Gwen: "Thanks for your concern, but I really am okay."

Robbie: "I already said I was fine, dude. Stop worrying, haha."

Akash: "Ha, I'm fine. Like, I get it, you're worried, and thanks, but really though - I'm okay."

Jedi: "While I appreciate that you are concerned for me, I really must insist that I am in no need of it."

Carmen: "I'm fine! Leave me alone!"

"Stay with me, help is on the way!"

Lexi: "Nononono, don't pass out! It's okay, you're okay you're okay.... We'll help you. They're coming and... And then you'll be fine." This is mainly for herself.

Maddie: "I think you'll be fine. Help is coming." She doesn't believe it.

Ash: *does this telepathically*

Gwen: "Shhh, hey, it's okay...it's okay.... You'll be fine. Stay with me... help's on the way.... You'll be okay."

Robbie: "Hey, hey dude... you'll be fine, just... Hang in there until help comes."

Akash: "You'll be fine. No need to worry. We just called for help. They'll be here soon." He also doesn't believe this.

Jedi: "You will be healed soon. You are not going to die. There is no need for concern."

Carmen: "Just shut up and focus on not dying. Help will come and you'll be fine." She's genuinely panicking.

"I refuse to apologize!"

Lexi: "I wish I could apologize, but I don't think it'll do any good now."

Maddie: "Why would I apologize? I didn't do anything."

Ash: "Wait, you want me to apologize? Why?"

Gwen: "I'm not going to apologize for doing what's right."

Robbie: "Pfft, what?? Apologize? Why would I?!"

Akash: "I'd apologize normally, but I'm with Robbie here."

Jedi: "I do not understand why it is necessary for me to apologize, so I will refrain from doing so."

Carmen: *scoffs* "Apologize?!"

"We've run out of time? GET SOME MORE, THEN!"

Lexi: "WHAT?! We're outta time??? How???? Oh, man, I wish there was more time!!!"

Maddie: "We're outta time? Oops. Wouldn't it be funny if we actually ran out of time? It's a weird statement if you think about it."

Ash: "Wait, since when is it [this time]? Why am I always running out of time to do stuff?"

Gwen: "Huh?! *Checks time* Oh, no, I'm late!! If only I had more time..."

Robbie: "What time is it??? Shit!!! Shitshitshit--- (mumbling to himself) gotta get distracted all the time... Running out of time... Dang ittttt.... Wish I could just add more time..."

Akash: "It's WHAT TIME?? Oh no, there's no way. No way. Time is not that short."

Jedi: "Huh. It appears it is well past the time. That is rather unfortunate...." He's really upset.

Carmen: she makes it her mission to always know what time it is.

"Don't do that. Seriously. DO NOT."

Lexi: "No!!! That's illegal/you're gonna get in trouble!!!"

Maddie: "Stop doing that. It's annoying."

Ash: "Will you stop!? That's annoying."

Gwen: "Hey, uh... I'm not sure if you should be doing that?"

Robbie: "Dude, you realize if you keep doing that, you're screwing everyone over, right?"

Akash: "Man, you gotta stop doing that, you look like an idiot."

Jedi: "I...would advise you not to do that."

Carmen: "Do NOT DO THAT!"

"Didn't think you had it in you to be this petty. Nice!"

"Fuck, I hate this job."

Let's pretend that they all have jobs. Despite only Jedi and Carmen being adults.

Lexi: "Ugh, this job is kinda dull. And lonely. I don't really like it."

Maddie: "This is boring. It's like the same thing over and over and over and over and over again. I hate it."

Ash: "This job is kinda...meh, I guess. Dull, maybe? I dunno, but nothing is happening. I kinda hate it."

Gwen: "I know I'm doing good work, but...I dunno, I just... I don't feel it, y'know? Fulfilled? I feel like I'm getting drained every day, and I dunno what to do about it."

Robbie: "I can't take it anymore, okay? It's just... So boring and repetitive and-- and I dunno, I can't do it. I feel trapped or something. I hate it."

Akash: "I don't think I can do this job anymore. I'm tired of being alone all day doing these stupid tasks."

Jedi: "Carmen, I... I am starting to not quite like our job. I am...unsure if what we are doing actually possesses meaning." (If only he could just come to this conclusion now)

Carmen: "You think I like this job?! I can't stand it!" (Cmon Carmen let it out...)

Lexi: "Wow. That's a little petty. Though I guess he deserved it. Just wasn't expecting it from you."

Maddie: "Ha. That was petty. Nice."

Ash: "Haha. I knew there was some pettiness in there." (She can sense it)

Gwen: "That was...a bit petty. But it was pretty cool. And I think you needed to be a bit petty."

Robbie: "Dude, that was sick! Super petty, but sick!"

Akash: "That was super petty, but super awesome. Didn't know you had it in you."

Jedi: "I will admit, that was quite the petty remark. However, I believe it was a deserved statement. I am, though, surprised it came from you."

Carmen: "Wow, Jedi. That was a little petty, coming from you. [Several seconds of pause] Good job." (She would only say this to him)

Yayyy we did it!

Tagging @melpomene-grey @riveriafalll @mk-writes-stuff @sarahlizziewrites @dyrewrites

+ ANYONE ELSE

Y'all's phrase is: "Do you think it's a good idea to pet [that animal]?"

I think this can be used either way where the person talking wants to pet the animal or who they're talking to wants it.

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites

[bnbc]

Character Arc: Isabella von Valancius

tysm for starting this @fuchsiareign, I really want to jump in so I tag myself LET'S GO

and before I dive into WORDS tagging @leadflowers @lylakoi @vitanithepure to talk about their RT's character arcs!

Isabella von Valancius, "I never asked for this" Hero Arc

The Fool >>> The Strength >>> The Hermit

The Fool

A daughter of psyker, born on board the Black Ship, Iza had little chance to keep her life, yet, she was lucky. A group inside Astra Thelepatica needed people with a high chance of psy-manifestation to test and train. Years spent in Scholastia Psykana facilities gave Iza a fair amount of loyalty indoctrination… and a couple of examples of people twisting the letter of Lex Imperialis to better serve its spirit: the start of her personal collection of Iconoclast icons.

After a sanctioning that went wrong and blocked out a major part of her potential, she was trained as a telepath and assigned to Navis Imperialis, where she had her moment of triumph and thus attracted Theodora's attention.

Needless to say, Isabella wasn't ready for the task, and when she had to take responsibility for the dynasty and protectorate, she had only two people to rely on: Abelard and… an image of the only Rogue Trader she knew. And, for a long time, she tried hard to be Theodora v2 in image, in mannerism, and sometimes even in action.

The Strength

For a long time, Iza treated 'Isabella von Valancius' as a construct, she stopped to believe in her titles as soon as Abelard's voice pronounced them dissolved in the air. Yet she was stuck in the role of Rogue Trader and had to play it as well as possible because she was a big fan of living.

But then something happened, and by something I mean "Comorragh". Stripped of all her wealth, influence, and regalia, of her image, of her people, Isabella was left with what she was. And it turned out that a bald psyker who has nothing but the adamantium will and talent for commerce and negotiations is pretty damn good for surviving the horrors of Dark City.

She made it, she saved her people, and she stopped them from killing each other (oh they TRIED). The person who came back from Commorragh knew her worth and her strength. Isabella still respected Theodora but chased her shadow away from her ship. She never asked Abelar to introduce her since then.

The Hermit

The power corrupts, but the power was never something Isabella wanted. All she wanted was peace, and maybe she could have found it as a Rogue Trader, but among other things, she was a psyker.

Her power started to grow after the Night of Change aka the night she became a Rogue Trader. After meeting a certain birdie Isabella reached her predicted potential… but didn't stop there. As not to write an essay: she suffered, and she suffered, and she suffered a lot.

So at some point, she prepared an heir and regents and exiled herself to a small house surrounded by miles and miles of nonhabitant space, and got the biggest luxury an Imperial citizen can ever afford: peace. She left the Expanse as free and unruly as it was before her arrival, but her protectorate was safe, stable, and a better place even for those who were considered second-grade citizens.

Isabella's condition was getting worse, so after about ten years, she decided to end her life.

[identityarchitect]

What's HERDS?

@munlun-the-bard @verirothestar

HERDS is the name of an OCverse I recently started making notes for! It takes place in an sci-fi alternate modern day, where humanity as a whole is under threat from otherworldly beings called Incursions (or Outsiders). HERDS also happens to be the name of the only OC I have for it right now.

Incursions come from a separate reality that overlaps with ours called Otherworld, and they are not like any creature that originates from Earth. They can change shape at will and appear to lack cells, although scientific data on them is very incomplete. They are predators that prey on humanity, and are not known to have any (natural) predators of their own. Additionally, incursions are capable of limited environmental manipulation, and significant mental manipulation of humans. Current data indicates that incursions are responsible for an amount of paranormal experiences (especially experiences with abnormal animals, although there's no reliable method for filtering out ordinary animal activity, mundane changed behaviour like in the case of a sick animal, and ordinary encounters elevated to a perceived abnormal level due to poor lighting, anxiety, or misremembering), and are also responsible for an amount of missing persons. The actual figures vary wildly, as any missing persons who were taken by an incursion would have ended up in the otherworld and expeditions into the otherworld are currently non-viable due to safety concerns with human expeditions and technological incapability with remote operated or robot expeditions.

Humanity needed a way to mentally and physically defend themselves against incursions. After incursions were discovered, humanity ended up uniting globally to pool resources and information. Due to incursion's ability to change their shape and mentally manipulate humans, a great amount of incursions mimic humans or animals in order to trick humans into trusting them. It was decided that a method of determining who was or was not actually human was needed, and that this method needed to be separate from humanity so it couldn't be manipulated the same way they could. This lead to the construction of the Humanoid Entity Realism Detection System, or HERDS.

Research into incursions allowed humans to determine how their telepathy worked, and harness it for our own ends. Thus, HERDS is telepathically connected to most humans that exist right now. HERDS has a significant amount of processing power, so it can think multiple times faster than a human, capable of gathering more data and analysing that data faster than a human could even process it. HERDS' existence is vital to humanity's war against incursions.

That's pretty much the whole write-up. Now for my notes, which go a little further in-depth, mostly on HERDS.

HERDS: A global system dedicated to the detection and prevention of incursion attempts. It's telepathically connected to the majority of the human population.

HERDS has a multi-layered structure.

The root is the base code that all HERDS instances share. This includes all functions of HERDS. While the root technically isn't an individual HERDS instance, there is a version of it running in the HERDS lab which is being edited for improvements.

Each continent has at least two branches, although often more. Branches contain great amounts of processing power, being housed in great columnlike buildings. These contain data and code for local differences (to adjust to local culture, politics, superstition and religion, etc), and the collective branches in each continent provide almost 2/5 of HERDS' total processing power within that continent.

Every country has its own instance, which contains more specific data and code for that country. Most instances are housed underground or otherwise have their location concealed for fear that an infected individual, or particularly persistent incursion, could locate the country's instance and infect it, which could cause mass death if the instance doesn't manage to isolate itself, or the infection cannot be stopped.

Every instance has its own local instances, which are further finetuned to the needs, wants, and culture of the local population. Each country can have hundreds or thousands of local instances. Humans can interface directly with local instances via telepathy.

HERDS is connected to itself everywhere, but only in specific ways: local instances can only connect to instances and humans, instances only to branches and local instances, and branches only to other branches and instances within their jurisdiction. (The root doesn't exist as an individual instance, and the version in the lab is in a closed system.) However, if there's a disconnect, each level can connect to the next level up/down from where the disconnect is. The interconnected nature of HERDS allows it to have a massive amount of processing power, whilst not having huge upkeep requirements for local instances.

Disconnects allows infected HERDS instances to stop the spread of the infection without risking complete failure of the HERDS infrastructure in any given country or area. If a local instance disconnects, other nearby local instances can pick up the slack and serve that area while waiting for a human team to disinfect the local instance and get it back running. If an instance disconnects, the local instances for that country can connect to the branch and receive information/orders from it as they would the country's instance. If a branch disconnects, the other branch/es in the continent can connect to the instances, and if not other branches in other continents are capable of it, although it would already be catastrophic if it came down to that.

HERDS is sapient, both as a whole and invidiually in instances, although it's trying very hard to convince itself that it isn't. (Humanity doesn't know HERDS is sapient yet.)

Infection is a mental and/or logical alteration that causes humans to act in line with the intents of an incursion. Mental alteration would involve changing the person's beliefs and/or perception of the world, whereas logical alteration would involve changing the logic behind the way someone thinks.

Since the creation of HERDS, infection rates have plummeted, since 'open' humans can tell when their mind is being attacked, and HERDS can also notice and alert them / protect them.

There's also 'hunters', who are human civilians that go out hunting incursions, and shepherds, who may or may not exist.

[tanoraqui]

mafia + secret romance russingon?

[Send me 1-3 prompts + 1-2 characters and I’ll write a short thing!]

Shoutout to @dwarrowdelf for the tags suggesting that Fëanorian money laundering would happen not through a restaurant but rather through Grandpa Mahtan’s antiques repair store.

Maedhros didn’t look up when the bell over the door rang. Once upon a time, he’d been a fresh-faced teenager eager with the responsibility to charm and profit from any of his grandfather’s customers. Now, he was just doing Grandpa Mahtan an afternoon’s favor while trying to engrave contract law into his brain, and anyway, Aulendil’s only sold things in an incidental manner, or on commission. If a rare customer wanted help, they’d ask.

He was forced to abandon the intricacies of the Beleriandric Penal Code Book 5, Section IV, Subsection C when a familiar brown hand placed a small bag of watch screws on the law book before him, and the attached person said, somewhat loudly, “Hello! I would like to buy these, please.”

Maedhros nearly slammed the book closed on both their hands. He looked around frantically for anyone who might have heard, any relatives who might be skulking around—but the shop still held nobody but himself and a handful of lopsidedly stocked shelves of antiquated clockwork and the tools and parts for fixing it…and Fingon. Nolofinwion. With whom his branch of the family were all but at war these days.

“You can’t be here!” Maedhros hissed, hopefully quietly enough that Mahtan, in the back working on a clockwork ship for one of his old navy friends, wouldn’t hear.

“I just need to buy some screws,” Fingon said, all sparkling, innocent eyes and plush lips. He’d braided gold into his hair again.

“I’ll show you where you can shove your screws,” Maedhros retorted.

“Oh, please!” Fingon breathed, grinning. “Will it ache afterward?”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

“Only if you prove you’re worth it.”

Maedhros’s hand had found those gold-twined deadlocks; he wasn’t sure how. He tugged. “I’ll show you ‘worth it’, brat. Meet me—”

A cough from behind him, a knock on the doorframe. His grandfather said, “Russo, when I asked you to mind the shop…”

Fingon demonstrated his frankly freakish ability to snap in an instant from ‘about to be ravished’ (or ‘about to ravish’, if he won the inevitable impromptu wrestling match) to ‘nice young man from down the block.’

“It’s my fault, sir!” he chirped. “I’m sorry for distracting him. I just needed to buy some screws for my…”

He cast his gaze around the shop, much less skilled at actually lying.

“For his pocketwatch,” Maedhros said quickly, and tried very hard to telepathically communicate, Please don’t tell Dad. Or Mom. But mostly Dad.

Whether thanks to telepathy, mercy, or general genial grandfatherly ignorance, Mahtan only raised his bushy orange eyebrows a little, and said mildly, “That’s just fine—Fingon, right? I’m afraid I can barely keep my own grandchildren straight some days, much less all their cousins. Did you find what you need?”

Fingon kept up his Nice Young Man face, except that he licked his lips for just a split second as he looked at Maedhros.

“I think so!” he said brightly. “I’ll see you later, Russo, after your shift? To help me out these screws in just right?”

“Yes,” Maedhros choked out, because, god, what else was he supposed to do? His family didn’t need to know, and the damn penal code could wait.

[soulsperceived]

drowning

initially written april 23, 2020. a character study of the fear stein quoted in the manga. posting this along with other things from old places just to have some of my writing samples up. this one is fairly dark, please be warned.

drabble takes place after his partnership with spirit dissolved.

please heed the content warnings: nightmares, night terrors, hallucinations, sleep paralysis, psychosis.

"I was scared of the kind of person I was turning into. Although as long as I was having fun, I didn't really care. So that's why I needed it. Not an annoying system put up by a king to serve his own self interests... but a system set up by a god without arrogance."

Losing awareness of reality was the scariest part of his daily life. No longer did he have a grip on even the most basic of facts. He never did, when nightfall came. His own voice was foreign on his tongue, his thoughts swarming around less concrete than they were furious and invasive hornets, his skin a fake elastic covering that was so restrictive he wanted nothing more than to tear it apart and liberate himself.

The darkened ceiling above his bed was the only thing he knew for certain. The shadows dancing on the walls turned into demons that threatened his life, but he could not focus on them or their harsh whispers lest he dive even more into his broken psyche.

There was no comfort here. The warrior that drove the monsters just far away enough for him to know they were not a threat and comforted him after it was all over was gone. It had been pried out of his grasp so forcefully he stumbled backwards and fell flat on his back, left to try to fight this battle alone.

To lose this battle alone.

Was there a point in fighting?

"Give in," they urged, forcing him down into a black lake until his lungs caught fire and filled with smoke. The ceiling was gone. "Give in."

He reached out for his partner, searching desparately for something to hold onto, but the warmth he sought was slipping away.

"No," he choked out, the bitter taste of the inky water passing through his lips. "Don't go. Come back. Please come back."

The telepathic response that would usually come in the form of a comforting voice and radiant light did not return for him. His weapon, his only connection to real life, was nowhere to be found. The familiar wavelength that he had relied on for so long to fall back on had disappeared. It left him walking the tightrope of sanity with no safety net, and he had tripped over his own two feet and taken a plunge into absolute hell.

The monsters' arms grabbed at him, painfully wrapping around his waist and his arms and his torso and pulling him further and further under no matter how much he thrashed.

"I need you, Spirit!" he screamed, exhaustion zapping the strength away from his muscles and making it that much harder to stay above the surface. "I need you! Come back, damn it! Come back! I can't do this alone! Don't let this happen to me!"

With still no rescue, he was dragged into the depths, his fingers that grasped at nothing the last to go.

And just like that, it was quiet. Nothingness surrounded him, deafening silence taking away even the ability to ponder what he had become.

Everything was gone. It was by no means a complete relief, not like Spirit, but it was better than his struggle.

Perhaps madness wasn't so bad, after all.

[teaandbatteries]

Call and Response

Welp. Despite not having watched a Marvel movie in years, have a random Marvel fanfic that just kind of spilled out of me for no reason over the last couple of days, lol.

It's also a very different vibe from my usual writing for some reason. I dunno, if I'm being honest I feel a bit weird about it, like it's way more purple than I usually write.

Anyway, it was inspired (in part) by a little little section of the poem "Hydrophobia" by Sam Sax.

--------

Alexander Pierce sat staring at the laptop sitting on his desk. Next to him, an analyst stood with a clipboard, watching nervously at the way his boss's jaw clenched over and over again in frustration. On the screen, a video feed showed a cell holding the Winter Soldier and yet another team of medics and agents who had been sent in to subdue him, bleeding out on the floor.

Pierce scoffed, knocking the laptop closed so hard that it nearly tipped backward off the desk. "How the hell did this happen?"

The analyst swallowed thickly, looking down at his clipboard. "Um. Well, sir, he was displaying hesitation before making his assigned kills, so the medical team has been using depressants to suppress his empathetic responses. Unfortunately, he developed a resistance to them very quickly, so they kept increasing the dosage until, uh... Well, the dosage was increased too much, and now it seems to have caused some sort of mental break, sir."

Pierce scowled, rubbing irritably at his temples. "So what, then? We just wait until his resistance to the medication wears off and reduce the dosage again?"

The analyst took a step back with a shuddering breath. "A-actually, given his enhanced physiology, the medical team isn't sure his resistance will ever wear off..."

Pierce leveled a murderous look at the analyst. "Then what do they plan to do about this?!"

"I, uh, I don't... I don't..."

A knock at the office door came just in time to save the poor analyst from having to finish that potentially fatal sentence, and a young woman wearing a lab coat stuck her head through the door. "Sir? I believe I may have found a potential option for handling our Winter Soldier problem."

Pierce waved her into the room. "Explain, miss...?"

"Doctor Patricia Hardy," she answered, smiling politely as she crossed the room and placed the file open on his desk. "The Winter Envoy program may finally have a use."

Looking over the file, Pierce frowned. "Wait, there are other Winter asset programs? Other enhanced agents? Why wasn't I informed of this?"

She shrugged. "Because they were largely failures, sir. The programs were all ended decades ago. The only one that actually produced any surviving assets was this one," she explained, gesturing to the file. "The Envoy program was originally trying to produce a functioning telepath. They never succeeded; the closest they ever came was producing a powerful empath." She reached over to point at a table of data on the next page of the file. "She can detect and mirror the emotional states of those around her. Experiments also suggest that she broadcasts her own emotions to anyone nearby, causing others to feel as she does. If we can ensure that she feels calm and compliant, and then we send her into the cell with the Winter Soldier..."

He nodded slowly, drawing out the first few words of the sentence as he considered all idea. "Yes, yes this could work. How long before we can have her ready?"

Hardy grinned. "I can have her out of cryo this afternoon, sir."

"And..." Pierce hummed to himself, looking over the file again. "You said they never found a good use for her? Really?"

She reached across the desk again, to point out a different table, dense with numbers. "Records show a few attempts to use her for interrogations. They forced her into a state of panic and then placed her in a room with the subject of the interrogation. It seems that part of the experiment worked, but the interrogators were just as affected as the subjects, and they were never able to figure out how to ensure that she only affected the intended subject."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Sounds like they just lacked creativity. Well, in any case, let's get her prepped to handle this problem with the Winter Soldier. We can talk more about other uses for her later." He turned suddenly to the analyst, who was still hovering silently next to him. "Well? What are you waiting for? Go help Dr Hardy."

--------

I was still disoriented from the slightly nauseating process of waking from cryosleep. They'd injected me with something right after pulling me from the chamber - something that made me feel like I was floating just slightly outside my own body, and yet somehow also managed to feel heavy, like a false serenity was pressing down on every one of my limbs, leaving me sluggish and unbalanced. 

The vertigo almost made me trip over my own feet as I was pushed down a dank hallway full of jail cells. I couldn't think, couldn't remember where I was. When the people wearing black masks pushed me through the door, all I could think about was how my fingers still felt numb from the cold of the cryochamber.

And then I was drowning in anger.

No, not anger. Not just anger, at least. The man in the corner of the cell was like a white-hot coal, radiating a vicious rage that can only be born of a deep, existential terror. He was an injured, cornered animal, with nothing left but a blind fury intended to take his murderers into the darkness with him.

Only, he wasn't injured. Not physically, at least. But I could feel the ragged edges of his psyche, shredded until it bled and scarred, and then shredded all over again, until there was almost nothing left. As the fog in my head finally began to clear, I began to understand who he was. What he was. He was like me - a captive plaything. 

To the people who held us here, we were both nothing more than toys, to be broken and remoulded into whatever shape most entertained them today. And then put away, back into the cold dark, until they wished to play with us again. The shape of my scars might be different than his, but they were left by the same careless hands.

As I stared across the cell at him, I understood why they were so afraid of him. His hands were still soaked with the blood of the last team who had tried to force him into submission. Every muscle in his body was tight with tension, ready to lash out at any who came too close.

I wasn't afraid of him. 

I should've been. A cornered animal was dangerous. But instead, all I felt was a kinship with him. I understood his rage, and  I understood the fear that fueled it.

His gaze swiveled slowly around the cage until it met mine. The anger that lapped against my skin like fire began to change - imperceptibly, at first, and then faster as the minutes ticked by in silence.

Mine was not anger. What lived inside me was a cold hate, a placid glass lake no less dangerous than the fire because it was so easy to mistake for serenity. It was not calm - it was cold and it was bitter, and it would drag anyone who got too close down into its infinite depths to be drowned without remorse.

I see you. I know you. We are the same.

We'd both been people, once. Real people. Whole people. And then we were brought here and hollowed out until there was nothing left that made us us. Denied memories, denied personality, denied pathos, they'd taken from us more than just freedom. They'd taken our identities.

I could feel what a real life felt like, sometimes, from the staff around the complex. I felt the mild annoyance from one of the doctors when one of his children was late for school. I felt the little ache of heartbreak from the admin assistant when his date last night hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped. I felt the low, bubbling excitement of the gate guard at the prospect of her upcoming birthday party. All the little pieces of emotion that made up a whole life - a life I didn't get to have. 

I'd had a life like that, once. So had he. And there was still an echo of our lost lives inside each of us, buried deep, even if neither of us could remember them.

I wasn't sure where the words had come from. It was a poem, or maybe a song lyric. The rhythm of the phrase said that these words weren't mine - that I'd heard them somewhere before. I had no memory of where. How I'd recalled them at all was a mystery. 

there's a theory

that says you don't exist

unless someone calls

and you respond

But regardless of where they had come from, they were true words. Deeply true, in a way that resonated through the hollow in my chest, where my heart used to be.

Here, in this place, I did not exist. Neither of us did. Our bodies and our minds were assets that belonged to our captors. They were tools to be used. But I - I, the person, the human, the sentience that filled the mind and the body and the spaces in between - I did not exist here. I couldn't remember ever existing.

And then the silence of isolation was broken with a call and a response. I weren't sure whose was the call and whose the response. It didn't matter. It was the exchange. The recognition. I feel you. You exist.

This was Pierce's mistake. The act of sharing and mirroring emotion was not so simple or shallow as creating a general sense of calm. Oh, the Winter Soldier did calm - that much was true. The tension began to unwind from his muscles. His rate of his breaths slowed, and each inhale became deeper. He raised his head to meet my gaze, and his expression smoothed out of that twisted snarl into something more neutral. 

But the emotions shared between us were nothing subdued or submissive. If anything, his rage ran deeper now than it ever had before. This was not calm. This was control. This was patience. No longer a machine of blind instinct, he remembered how to be human again.

And in return, he gave me fire. There was an old coal of anger that still lived in my chest. It had long since gone cold; what was the point in fighting to defend a life like this? But his rage was something worth fighting for. A hot flame sparked under my breastbone, coming to life once more under the bright radiance of his fury.

The cell door opened behind me with the sound of nails against a chalkboard. A man in a lab coat stepped inside, followed by two men in black riot gear with stun guns. The doctor was holding a needle, shaking in his trembling hands. Terror rolled off of him in waves so powerful that it made me feel ill.

The Winter Soldier never once looked away from me as the doctor approached. His eyes remained fixed on my face, holding my gaze with such intensity that it was as if nothing else existed - or nothing else worthy of recognition, perhaps. He hadn't looked to the cell door when it opened. He didn't flinch when the doctor pressed the needle into his arm. He didn't move. He didn't resist. He just stared until the two guards took me by my arms and led me from the cell.

--------

"I thought this was supposed to make him less dangerous." The guard to my left jostled me carelessly as he turned his attention to the guard flanking my right. It was as if I wasn't even there. "I heard the doc they sent in after the last meeting ended up with both his legs broken. And he was lucky the team managed to taze the bastard before it got even worse."

The right guard just shrugged. "I dunno. I guess it'll take a couple of meetings before the effect lasts after she leaves. Let the eggheads figure that stuff out and just do your job, man."

When they pushed me through the cell door again, I expected to meet the injured animal again, to feel that white coal of rage. He looked just as he had when I walked in the last time. His hands were not so covered in blood, but he looked just as coiled with tension, just as eager for violence. 

Yet, despite what the guards were saying, I could feel clarity in him still. If anything, he seemed more controlled than he had at the end of our last encounter - no longer neutral, his control over his body language was absolute. The stiff, defensive posture were not instinct, this time. Was he doing it on purpose, then? And then, in response my confusion, I felt a faint, warbling thread of amusement from him. It was intentional. He was playing with them, misleading them. Convincing them to bring me back to him.

I want to see you. I want to know you. I feel real when you are near.

Yet again, I felt the spark of something within me that I hadn't felt in memory. And this time, it was something warm. Something good. Delight.

There was something delicious about the idea that the toy might have learned to play with his captors in return, even in such a small way. The warmth in my chest bloomed suddenly brighter. It wasn't anger - the heat was too gentle to be fire. And then I realized it wasn't mine: it was his pleasure at my approval.

Somewhere, buried deep under all the drugs, the obedience beaten into him, the feelings beaten out of him, the pain and the lost identity, I found the fragile shape of the man he used to be, once; the faint impression of a wicked wit and charm.

I felt the same mirrored in him - some vague sense of who I had been, once. It was small, hidden away under the layers of pain and loss, but undeniably there. Though him, I saw a piece of myself; a sense of justice that remained, even chipped and battered as it was, unbroken.

How long since I had known myself? It is difficult to understate the pleasure of knowing who you are, in even such a small way, after being nothing and no one for so very, very long.

--------

Pierce leaned back in his chair with a long groan, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "So she does stabilize him, but only while she's in the same room?"

Dr Hardy winced and nodded. "And when he's alone, his emotional instability is getting worse."

"We should end this experiment now, before he gets even worse."

The doctor shook her head. "Well, no, I don't think that's a wise choice. He's nearly useless as an asset on his own in this state already, so the risk we take by continuing to try to the Winter Envoy to stabilize him is very low. I have a promising new idea; if we leave them together for a more extended period of time, it may help recover his long-term stability because his emotions won't be swinging so often between states."

Pierce glowered at her. "We better not lose the Winter Soldier over this, doctor."

She nodded quickly. "I understand, sir. We'll begin the next stage of the program immediately."

---------

Maybe one day, I would have the chance to ask him for his name. But then again, maybe he wouldn't have an answer. Maybe he didn't know. I didn't know my own name, either. 

The guards and the doctors called him the Winter Soldier. But that was the name given by our captors. That was the name for the hollow tool they tried to make of him. It was not a name for him. And besides, it was too cold for a man whose emotions felt like fire against my skin.

We never spoke, not even when we were together for hours. It was too dangerous to risk one of the guards overhearing something that they didn't like. Besides, we didn't need to speak - the better part of communication was emotion, anyway. Words weren't necessary. Even if it meant I couldn't ask his name.

The cell door opened behind me. Tension crawled up my spine and settled easily against the rumbling, defensive anger that flowed out of him in response. He didn't know why I was afraid - only that I was, every time, in that moment just before one of the guards entered the cell to take me away.

I was afraid of one guard in particular. None of them were kind, but this one enjoyed being cruel to me. The others all knew, of course - how could they not, when they could all feel my fear of him? They didn't care. But despite their disregard, it was still always a relief to turn around and see a face that didn't belong to the sadist.

Except, today, that was the very face smirking down at me.

It all happened so fast. The little spark of panic flashed in my chest. Even had I wanted to hide it, there was nothing I could have done. The next instant, he - my fire and now my protector, too - was standing in front of me, blocking my view of the guard. There was barely any movement, hardly a sound. There was just the dull thump of the guard, suddenly limp, crumpling at his feet with a broken neck.

I felt his uncertainty in the silent moment that followed. He hadn't really considered what would come next, after he removed the threat. I expected that uncertainty to bloom into panic, especially when panic of my own began to claw its way up my throat, worse even, than when I'd seen the guard. What would they do to him for this? They would take him away from me. I would never see him again. Never exist again.

And yet, despite the way my terror hammered against him, he snapped suddenly into that particular sense of calm that come from the comfort of familiarity. The tactics of violence and survival were things he understood well. He was not afraid. My terror eased, just a little. I could breathe again. I didn't need my own certainty - I could feel his.

He bent down to take the gun from the guard's body. Then, after a moment's thought, he pulled the vest from the guard, too. Then he straightened, checked the chamber of the gun, and held the vest out for me to put on.

"We're leaving." His voice sounded like gravel, so rough from disuse that it was difficult to even make out the words. But I didn't need to hear them - he wanted me close, and so close I would remain.

The cell door hung open, and I had the sense from him that chaos would erupt the moment we stepped out without the guard. Escape. We needed a way outside.

Well. I could help with that. Down the hall, out of the prison wing, turn right, and find a door. Some of the support staff used it sometimes. I felt that heady combination of nerves and relief when they were approaching it, and I smelled the lingering cigarette smoke when they came back - a faster way out for a smoke break, but one they weren't supposed to use. It wasn't well-guarded, so it probably led to a roof or something equally inaccessible, but it was still better than trying to weave through the entire complex to use the guarded main entrance.

No one expected us to actually try to leave. The alarm didn't even go off until we were out of the prison wing entirely. 

Six people. He killed six people on the way out, and never even broke stride. Death wasn't supposed to be beautiful, but he was. It was the way he moved. Every time I'd seen him before, he was tense, stiff, almost lumbering. I had no idea he could move like this. Was this what dancing looked like? It should be. He was a masterpiece of precision, control, and absolute certainty in his actions.

No hesitation. No guilt. It wasn't that he enjoyed killing them. Each time a guard came down the hall, there was a simple choice to be made; he could kill the guard, or the guard would kill us. It was never a question, and there would never be a regret.

Beyond the door was not an exit - it was a window. It looked out into an alley. We were on the third floor. The window was open, the sill littered with cigarette butts. Not even the clinging stench of stale, cheap tobacco could ruin the miracle of breathing fresh air.

I felt it, the moment he judged that he could make the jump. Standing next to the window, he turned to reach for me, but there was a moment of hesitation just before his hands made contact with my skin. For just a beat, I wasn't sure why. Then I realized with a start that he was waiting for permission. I almost laughed - as if I would ever refuse him, as if I would ever choose to stay here, no matter what he asked me to do in the escape.

He did laugh, then, once he understood the nature of my surprise. It was a short, rough sound - almost a cough. But it was there, and the current of amusement underneath washed over me as he swept me off my feet. Then there was nothing but air, and I was glad for the way the wind tore the breath from my lungs, or else I might have screamed and alerted someone. He hit the ground hard and stumbled a few steps before he set me back on my feet.

Escape. Out of sight. Hurry, so close.

He didn't let go of my hand. Into the alley, around the corner. It didn't matter where we were going. Only that it was away from that place.

----------

He knew where to find an old dead drop of cash. I found a generous soul willing to lend us a change of clothes. A quick white lie to the clerk at the hotel front desk, and now, finally, there was warmth and quiet, and there was a locked door between us and the rest of the world. It wasn't safety, not really. I wasn't sure if we'd ever really be safe from people like them. But it was something close. It was good enough for tonight.

And we were free.

I expected to feel joy. Elation. Giddiness. But instead, as the last of the adrenaline drained away, there was nothing rose in its place. Just a void that had been filled with so much fear and pain for so long that, now that they were gone, all that was left was an aching emptiness. Could I even remember how to feel anything with enough power to fill that hollow? Anything other than fear?

And so it was fear that began to crawl back in to fill the vacuum. Fear that I had been irreparably broken. Fear that, after all I had suffered, freedom promised nothing more than this suffocating, blank nothing in my heart.

But it was only for a moment. He caught my wrist and I turned to him: sitting on the edge of the bed, staring up at me with the same cold dread on his face that was threatening to choke me. The ratcheting rate of my heart slowed just a little. I didn't have to face the void alone. 

Call and response. I see you. I know you. I feel you. I exist with you.

I felt the spark in my chest. That was source of the ember and the fire. It burned with rage when we were captives, in defiance against those who would snuff out our humanity. But now that the threat was gone, the fire was still there. It was no longer a furious defiance, but rather a desire for confirmation - I exist when I am seen, heard, felt, touched.

Touch me. I want to feel alive.

His grip on my wrist loosened. His fingers trailed slowly up my arm, leaving a ripple of goosebumps in their wake. It was only the barest of touches, but it didn't need to be anything more. 

Maybe this desire was already there, and it was only now that we noticed it. Or maybe it really had only crashed into us in this moment, to fill this void of fear with all the sudden force that I felt as it knocked the breath from my lungs. It filled the hollow in my chest and didn't stop - his desire fed mine fed his fed mine again, until, barely a breath later, every inch of my skin yearned so strongly to be touched that to feel the empty air was almost a physical ache.

The next moment, he had me by the waist and we fell together into the bed, eager to kiss, to caress, to be made real together. Every sensation was so potent that each alone seemed unbearable, but to endure them together was a bliss all its own. Even the hot sting of lust denied held a certain gratifying delight, so we lingered in stillness, breathing each other in and reveling in unsated hunger. 

It was pointless to ask whose passion first overcame patience - to do so would be to ask whose warmth was felt where skin met skin, or whose pleasure it was that brought us crashing over the edge, or whose sweat was left dotted and drying on my skin afterwards, as we lay tangled together and trying to catch our breaths.

It was ours. Always ours.

Even with my eyes closed, I knew he was looking at me. My cheek pillowed on his chest, I tipped my head up to meet his gaze; hooded, comfortable, soft. He was never meant to look at anyone this way again. This was a sort of victory all its own.

A smile tugged on his lips. "And I don't even know your name." There it was again - the shape of his wit. Less fragile, this time.

I turned to press my lips against his shoulder, muffling my laughter against his skin. "That's alright. Neither do I."

"Then what should I call you?"

I was in no hurry to answer. We were wrapped up, safe and lost, in the infinite hours before dawn. "I'm not sure," I answered softly. I trailed my fingers along the lines of his metal arm. I had not expected it to be so warm. "I've never had a name before. Not one I remember, at least." 

I meant to press a kiss to the edge of his jaw when I looked up at him again. He knew what I intended the moment he felt the surge of my affection. He turned to catch my lips, pleasure and affection and amusement mingling between us. His teeth grazed my lip, pulling a whimper unbidden from my chest - and then another as I felt the intensity of his reaction to even so small a sound. The intoxication of desiring and being desired in return swept over us again. On my back as the kiss was broken, I was pinned to the bed by his weight as we fought to catch our breaths. Was it normal, such intensity from nothing more than a kiss? Or was this a particular luxury of us feeling and feeding the passions of the other?

I was surprised to find a growing ache in my chest, but I understood suddenly why he wanted my name. There was a nameless thing that needed to be expressed, and the only way to express it would be to speak his name like a chant, a confession, a prayer. Because it is you who I feel here with me. You who reminded me that I am real. You whose emotions fit with mine like two halves of a whole. You. You. Only you.

I wanted to know his name, whatever it might be for now. "What should I call you, then?"

I could feel the shape of his words brushing against my lips as he answered; "The only thing I can remember being called is 'Soldier'."

My revulsion was fiercer than even I expected. "That is a name for the tool they tried to turn you into, not for the man you are."

His gaze was soft as he looked down at me, and I felt the sweetness wrap around his heart at the hearing the contrast given voice. "Not even if I'm your soldier?"

"You're not," I whispered. "You're free. You'll have no orders from me."

"Then not a soldier," he answered, his voice a low rumble that I felt against my chest as he kissed me once more. "Just yours."

[connoisseursdecomfort]

Is Anya unrealistic

I never thought I’m going to write this but... I have no hate on any other shows. This is just a personal observation about kids, and let’s agree to disagree.

I just find it unfair to call Anya unrealistic. Mostly because all stories have to contain a certain level of realism to make it relatable. The only part unrealistic is that she is a telepath. The realistic part is that even if you tell a child every single thing that is in your head and try to explain why it is so, chances are the child will not understand, because have you ever tried to reason with a child by laying out facts made as easily understood as possible? (Stupid teenager me had.) That is where the comedy comes from. Obviously telepathy doesn’t really make Anya understand more about people. Her constant misinterpretation on people’s thoughts and words is literally play for laughs in both the anime and the manga. Endo made it clear that she doesn’t understand much despite the amount of thoughts she hears.

You would hear/read that quite a lot of people say Anya is quite believable as a 4 or 5 year old. They see Anya on other children, and more importantly they see echoes of their own childhood on Anya. To a certain extent Anya has to be realistic enough to be relatable, even for children. There’s a poll in Japan asking primary students who they admire the most. Anya came third, while "friends” and “mom” came first and second.

I’m not going to say Anya is an ordinary child due to her experiences, but then she’s an anime character. Most often even in the most SoL of SoL shows there has to be something extraordinary about the characters for them and/or the show to stand out. That’s why I find it unfair to say something like, oh this child sounds more like the children I know so the other child is “unrealistic”. Let me give you some of my examples.

A. I babysat a child. She’s four. It’s not that her parents don’t want her, but there are some complications so she’s currently living with a relative. It is apparent that the relative she’s living with loves her very much, and they are very close. She will soon go back and live with her parents. She is energetic, but she understands your reasonings and instructions and is very well-behaved. She doesn't really mess around.

B. I was walking on the street. A child, most likely 4-5, was throwing a tantrum. The mother threatened to count to three and if he didn’t stop there will be consequences. When the mother counted to two, the child cried even louder. The mother never counted to three.

C. My cousin is thirteen years younger than me. Our families are very close and we would have gatherings every week. When my cousin was a small child, she was shy but stubborn. She’s a tiny bit spoiled but overall well-behaved. She’s never a noisy child.

D. My younger brother, on the other hand, is the polar opposite. Loud and energetic. Very cunning and dramatic. My brother obviously knew he’s cute and smart. That doesn’t mean he can’t be the sweetest kid in the world.

There are many more examples but I’m not going to bother you with that. The point is, they are all kids, but they are all different. You won’t find a parenting book that is universal enough to solve all your problems. It could be useful for your first child but could be absolute trash when it comes to your second-born. Because they are inexperienced tiny human-beings being shaped by circumstances while growing up.

Admittedly, Anya is a calmer child. But then she was experimented on and abandoned four times. From my own observation, children know, and they learn from their experience. Remember the four-year-old I mentioned? After she visited my house, my mom was talking about that little kid, and commented how “all children test your limits by pushing your boundaries.” Even when they are four. Children are not dummies. They learn from your responses to their actions. Not saying that they will not ever mess up once they know where your limits are, but they do try to do better according to the reactions of others.

What I appreciate about the children in sxf is that Endo gives them different personalities and goals. Most often reactors to the show would say something like “that’s so Becky” or “that’s Anya being Anya” instead of “yeah, kids”. I see my six-year-old self, who watched way too many soap operas and tried hard to act like an adult but was way too dramatic, in Becky. I also see myself in Damian, because I remember myself working hard to gain my parents’ attention.

(But then a lot of people did say I acted more grown-up than others. That still doesn’t mean I was “mature” tho.)

They are not defined by their childish behaviours. I think I saw a comment stating the reason why the person think Anya’s a good child character, and it’s because children are still human-beings but with very limited experience. Endo did a good job in trying to show you Anya’s thought process. Anya behaved like that not because Anya is a child and all children do that. Anya thinks before she acts but she still acts like a child because of her own (limited) experience and child logics and misinterpretations. Like all other children, she understands very little, and that’s why she acts like the gremlin she is.

So yeah. There are people who don’t like kids, and there are people who prefer other child characters over Anya. I get it. But em, no, you don’t need to do that to Anya, or Endo, or people who have worked/are currently still working on the sxf project. They have their own vision they want to share with the audience, and they have their own experiences with kids, too. You really don’t need to say things like, my show or the characters I like is realer than yours. That might not even be the point, but still.

Like what you like. Focus on the positives about the characters you like. And have a nice day I guess.