#if the race were more boring then i'd understand

[mourning-again-in-america]

weird not seeing any nat'l coverage of the chicago mayoral election. maybe it's just too far away and i'm not a national news junkie anymore but compared to the NY mayoral race, or the attention paid to SF/DC local politics, it seems like nothing for the third-biggest city in the US

[whattheheckmidoriya]

A Million Tomorrows

Description: Change was inevitable. Levi couldn't deny he felt it coming, nor could he deny the dread pooling his stomach at the thought of tomorrow. You seem to have a way of easing those fears off his shoulders.

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing: Post-war Levi x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: AOT s4 spoilers, survivor's guilt. Let me know if I've missed something!♡

Author's Note: Hi, my loves!! It's been so long since I've had something to share with y'all, and I'd been working on this piece for a while, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Masterlist

Join the taglist here!

°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Something in the air told him change was coming.

It unsettled him, the idea of not knowing what was to come in this new chapter of his life. How could the tides shift and the seasons change so effortlessly while his tortured mind remained in the past? How could he be expected to turn the page when there was still so much he didn't understand?

Levi Ackerman didn't fear many things in life, but change terrified him. He wasn't ready for it, at least he didn't think so. The world's orbit seemed to speed up just enough to leave him behind, alone and abandoned. He couldn't keep up, couldn't keep a steady enough pace to remain one with the times.

He was falling behind and didn't know how to cope with the fact. Humanity's Strongest had withered away the second war was no more and Levi Ackerman didn't know how to pick up the pieces, didn't know how to move on now that he no longer bore a soldier's purpose over his shoulders.

He was nothing but a hopeless man, aimlessly stumbling through this life, yet something bloomed within him now that his nights were spent by your side. Indeed, he was hopeless— hopelessly in love and devastated by the fact. How terrifying, to get lost in the warmth of your touch and seek refuge under your sweet embrace— to slink away from the world to satisfy his greedy desires of basking in your love.

You'd created something in him, something so beautiful it chilled his blood in fear. How exciting; how terrifying.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, the warm painting of an afternoon sky slowly being consumed by the rolling of darkened clouds. Levi sighed, nursing a cup of tea in one hand while the other absent-mindedly traced patterns over the arm of his chair. His healing leg bounced over the wooden porch floors, almost impatiently.

Sitting idly always made him anxious. Though he always appreciated being able to savor his alone time, he often found himself seeking comfort in your presence. He'd picked up little habits that reassured him everything was okay— that you were okay. Holding your hand would subtly turn into his fingers sliding over your wrist, searching for your steady pulse. Caressing your cheeks allowed him to be close enough to feel your breath fanning over his skin, easing his nerves. He shyly started offering to bathe together, taking the opportunity to look over you, easing his mind with the knowledge that the scars on your skin were slowly fading with the passage of time.

The war hadn't taken you from him, yet he feared you'd vanish if he dared look away.

Music streamed from within the house, a melody you had claimed to be your favorite the moment you heard it on the radio. He had to admit, he liked it too, the familiarity of it enough to distract his racing mind. If he listened closely enough, he could make out the sound of your voice softly following the words to the song. The corners of his lips quirked into a tiny smile.

Love had made him soft.

Levi waited for you to join him on the porch, the tea in his hand now lukewarm. He cringed. He never liked the taste of cold tea.

A puff of air rushed past his lips as the sky opened up its gates, allowing for the land to be cleansed with a fresh wave of rain. He hummed nonchalantly. He never cared much for the rain, always despising how his shoes would sink into thick puddles of mud in the aftermath.

What a bother, he thought as a chilling breeze nipped at his skin and tousled his hair.

The former captain perked up at the sound of footsteps, relief pooling his chest. You'd finally decided to join him. As the door swung open, he turned in his chair to greet you but wouldn't get the chance to as you sped past him, leaping off the steps of the porch and into the rain.

A breathy laugh spilled out of your mouth, something beautiful and free."This is so nice!" You beamed, spreading your arms wide as the rain soaked your clothes. Wonder twinkled brilliantly in your eyes, your grin a wild thing that made your lover's chest ache.

He wondered, had your smile always been this big? No, he doesn't think so. Something was different— it felt new. A quick tug to his heartstrings had his mismatched eyes following you attentively. He could feel it in his bones, dripping down his stomach, pooling around his toes. Today's different.

Levi gaped at you, shaking his head. "Get out of the rain," he urged, wheeling his chair close to the porch railing. "You'll get sick."

He remembered having this conversation with you years before, both of you clad in torn uniforms, brandishing green cloaks, and worn-out boots. The scene was all too familiar, but your laughter was now wild, void of shame. Too many were the times he had to usher you back into the barracks, scolding you for being so careless. He could no longer count how many times he'd had to rush out of his office to drag you away from the ruthless downpour of a storm, nearly having to toss you over his shoulder to get you somewhere dry. You always said there was something about the rain that made you feel brand new. He always said you were crazy. But he couldn't say no to you now, not when something devilish and daring lingered in your gaze.

You merely turned to him, sticking out your tongue in retaliation. He scoffed.

Thunder roared a little closer now, and your smile only widened. You hollered in response, and your arms stretched up to the heavens. Oh, how sweet the taste of freedom, so fierce and lively.

"C'mon," Levi called after you, setting down his cup of tea. "It'll only get colder." He could already feel a chill crawling up his spine. Perhaps he should be seeking some towels to wrap you in— some warm blankets, too.

Instead of heeding his wishes, you ran further into the growing storm, your boots splashing into every puddle your feet stumbled upon. Mud splattered onto your ankles, tainting the dress that fell just past your knees. You jumped and twirled, laughter spilling past your lips with a joy so raw it seeped into your lover's ears like a sacred melody.

"Wait," He shouted as lightning struck, his heart pounding in his chest. Flashes of white and blue cut through the sky, their impact booming through the air. "Don't go too far!"

But you couldn't hear him anymore. You danced with the wildflowers, bending to the wind, each stomp and clap in rhythm with the crack of thunder. The drumming of rain kept the pace of your beating heart, so full of life and renewal. The heavens were the musicians and you, their valiant performer.

And Levi couldn't just sit by. No, because as lightning sparked through the heavens and the wind bit his nose with a chill, his heart only ached for you. Mismatched hues followed your every move, a pang of longing knocking on his chest.

Wherever you were, he was never too far behind.

"Damn it," he cursed. There was no time to go searching for his cane, the forsaken thing collecting dust in the back of his closet. With whatever strength he had within him, he latched onto the wooden railing before him and began pulling himself off his chair, his limbs protesting at the effort.

The former captain stumbled down the steps, his footing unsure, uneven. The aches in his leg scurried away as he stood a bit taller. Renewed confidence filled each stride once his feet landed on soppy mud. A new chill settled in his bones, something foreign and exciting.

"Come back!" He shouted, yet found himself going after you before he could think twice, his limp carrying him as best as it could. He felt like a madman chasing after falling stars. "Damn it, wait up!"

As if the wind had carried his voice to you like a sweet melody, you turned, a new giddy feeling tickling your heart as he slowly stumbled towards you. Something electric coursed through your veins, sweet and addicting. You laughed and cheered, kicking up more mud with every hop of excitement. Pride swelled in your chest at the sight of him, your heart threatening to chase after your lover.

A clap of thunder broke through the steady drumming of rain, almost as if urging Levi to keep going— he needed to reach you. His legs moved clumsily, the gap between you growing smaller. His hair stuck to his face in a sloppy mess, his clothes clinging to his healing body. Tints of pink dusted his scarred cheeks, nearly stinging his skin as the wind whispered sweet nothings into his ear. And though his bones whined and protested, the wages of war clear on his skin, he felt stronger than he had in a while.

"I'm coming!" Your voice rang through the air, almost as loudly as the chorus of booming thunder that followed.

And you ran to him.

A tug in his heart propelled him forward until he couldn't anymore. He tripped over his footing, his knee giving out and letting him meet the ground. And for once, he didn't care about the dirt under his nails or the horrendous state his clothing was in. Levi let himself get pulled to the dirt by the wind, his back to the ground. Facing up at the sky, he reveled in how the rain kissed his skin.

He's never felt more free.

How unusual, the feeling bubbling in his chest, a crazed little thing that pulled his lips into a smile. As a kid, he always dreamed of the sun, of feeling its warmth sink into his bones and fill his belly. He nearly laughed. How strange to find comfort in a raging storm.

You came like a dream. The dress hugging your body spread around your legs like a flower in bloom as you plopped down in the mud. Cold hands cupped the sides of his face tenderly, and he instinctively leaned into your touch. Cradling his head, setting it over your lap, you brushed his hair out of the way. Was he aware of how beautiful he was? A smile graced your lips, amusement clear in your eyes as he gaped at you, like a man drunk on stardust and hope.

The storm felt so far away now, though Levi was sure it had grown exponentially. But he couldn't focus on that. No, he was too enraptured by the sight of you to worry about such a thing. You, who kissed his scars each night, mapping them out like uncharted constellations. You, who thought his eyes were the most lovely combination of jewels. You, who now laughed so freely it made his heart stutter. He couldn't be any more in love.

"I love you," he breathed, unsure if you'd heard him. A trembling hand, gentle and cautious, reached up to you, wiping away the mud sprinkled on your cheek. His words came in a choked breath, scarred lips quivering under the weight of such sweet emotion, "I love you so damn much."

Something sweet bloomed in his chest, foreign yet familiar in a way he couldn't quite understand.

Even under the rain, Levi could see the tears swelling in the corners of your eyes, your smile so bright and warm. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. How had he managed to find such love? By no means did the odds ever feel to be in his favor, but perhaps the moon and the stars had conspired on his behalf, shifting the tides so that, at the end of it all, it would be you and him.

It didn't make any sense; there was no way for him to understand it. The mystery of this love was too big, but he stopped questioning things long ago. He stopped believing in coincidences. Some things, no matter how impossible they seemed, were meant to be. Like the way your hand perfectly fits in his or how his name resembles the songs of angels when spoken by your lips.

He never thought this life would ever be kind to him. Levi had only known hardship for so long; he'd learned to wear his grief and anger like a second skin. But the way you smiled at him, the way you held him as if he would shatter under your touch— it all made him think that maybe life had some hidden jewels waiting for him to uncover.

"You make this life a whole lot less shitty," His voice came in a hush, raw and flooding with emotion. Stormy eyes fluttered as you caressed his cheeks so tenderly, so gently he felt his chest tighten in an achingly beautiful way. "Thank you."

You smiled, choking on a tearful laugh. Levi seemed lighter. The sharpness of his eyes had softened with time, his infamous scowl slowly replaced by a small smile. His shoulders sagged, no longer tight under a soldier's promise of bloodshed. His knuckles no longer strained around the hilt of a sword but caressed the apples of your cheeks with sweet reverence.

He wore freedom beautifully.

"My sweet love," you mused, your voice like honey to his wounds, balming over the ghosts of battles past. "Thank you for staying."

A breath, sharp and unsteady, rushed past his lips, his chest caving in under the weight of raw emotion. His eyes widened, something new glossing over them. The man cradled in your touch crumbled, his lips quivering as he surrendered himself to the vastness of your love. A broken cry tore through his chest, his breaths uneven as he hiccuped.

He didn't think himself worthy— never believed it should’ve been him who rose with the sun each morning, basking in the warmth of a life others never had a chance to experience. A man forged by the wages of war had no right to savor the sweetness of this life, to have his wounds cleansed by the downpour of the heavens. Sometimes, his mind would drift off, and he'd wonder what this newfound freedom would've been for you had you not been held back by the prospect of nurturing him back to health. Would you have left? If things were different, would you have parted ways? His stomach overflowed with dread at such thoughts. He sometimes wished he'd been pulled into the cold clutches of eternal slumber, to have been whisked away into an abyss he could never escape from. Maybe then you wouldn't be burdened with the cards he'd been dealt with. Yet through his doubt, through his fears, your voice echoed in his heart, offering tender reassurance.

Thank you for staying. His heart ached, overwhelming him with tears he couldn’t seem to restrain. His scarred hand clung to yours tightly, almost as if your touch alone tethered him to this life. What had you done to him? How could you devastate his heart with such sweet love?

Your eyes softened as he cried. Softly, your free hand worked to brush strands of ink away from his face. The man before you was no longer the deadly soldier many feared; he'd retired his blades long ago. The man before you had been in hiding for far too long, holding himself together for longer than should've been asked of him.

Your lover was gentle and kind, and he feared what the future held. He hated not knowing what the sun would bring with its rising and falling— hated feeling uncertain of what his days would look like. But it all seemed a bit clearer now, a bit less fearsome. Something new glimmered in his eyes as his cries boomed louder than the crack of thunder.

Hope.

Change was in the air. He could feel it in his lungs, feel it in the soft breath that carried your words straight to his heart. It crackled all around him, loud, wild, and full of anticipation. It sent shivers down his spine.

Indeed, change was in the air, and, for once, Levi would beg the heavens for a million tomorrows if it meant he could live them all with you.

°•°•°•°•°•

🏷 Levi Ackerman taglist

@leviackermanmyhero245 @violet-19999 @celestair @ms-sin-city @ghostly-haunted @andrastesbeard @ikisstoga @izukus-gf @Bluetima @lemonboi69 @aconstructofamind @imjustasimpxd @notgoodforlife @bubsonnobx @a10vely-yutazen   @Just-sana @Loca-raccoon @Hjnhuh @geese-goose18 @figlia-della-luna

[mamawasatesttube]

Regarding Tim's parents, what are your opinions on how they're usually written and what would you want to see more or change?

MAN... okay. let's see.

so the way people tend to write them in fanworks - like total caricatures of horribly abusive parents, so one-dimensionally evil it's laughable - is boring. it's just extremely boring to me and i don't engage with it or care for it at all whatsoever. there's no nuance, there's no actual understanding of tim's relationships with them, no... anything. it's like people heard a whisper that jack drake is an abusive parent and went "well, it's not REAL abuse unless he's locking tim in a cabinet and starving him and beating him and whatever else". (also i think people often combine this with making tim east asian and janet a tiger mom, which is... yikes.)

so THAT whole incredibly empty mess aside: let's start with jack. jack drake is an emotionally immature and authoritarian parent. he loves tim. he is emotionally abusive to tim. these two statements coexist. tim loves him. tim is endlessly frustrated and trapped in their relationship in ways because jack doesn't see him, not until near the end. it's a source of constant tension. it's fascinating. the love is there but so is the abuse. narratively i understand that once he couldn't provide the tension of "tim has to hide from him" anymore, his story utility was limited, so of course he got killed off, but i think there was still some room to squeeze out interesting stories from him before writing him out. also i think retroactively, tim having to deal with him while bisexual and closeted is interesting and has some real story potential for sure.

janet, on the other hand? well, she appears like four times ever, so there isn't actually a ton to work with. we know tim loved her, too, and the panel of him sitting on the bed going "i know. it's her funeral. my mommy's funeral..." destroys me every time i see it. but because we have a lot of empty space about her, it is our city now. and i personally like to think about her being part of the chinese diaspora in the greater nyc area (which... probably includes gotham in universe, i would think). because i love to give tim racial identity issues and mixed-race issues because he's just so good at identity issues already. ough...

overall i just would love to see more actually nuanced takes on them instead of just "they were HORRIBLE ABUSERS" or "they were PERFECT PARENTS" as the only two ends of the spectrum. and i'd love to see more actual focus on tim's relationship with either of them vs just... hashtag batfam using them as a backdrop, you know?

[knoepfl]

Hello~ I'd like to request a Mylo x reader oneshot/imagine where they are making out and Mylo is all cocky and confident at first but as soon as it gets more serious the real Mylo starts showing and he gets all nervous and lost. I don't know if you do smut so it's all up to you how far you wanna write this (if you wanna write it at all). Have a nice day :)

Beneath the Bravado

Characters:

Mylo: Cocky on the surface, but nervous and tender when vulnerable.

Reader (You): Confident and understanding, helping Mylo feel at ease.

Trigger Warnings:

Emotional Vulnerability: Themes of nervousness during intimacy.

Suggestive Content: Physical closeness, no explicit details.

Masterlist

Words: 1105

---

The city outside was alive, a chorus of distant horns and chatter that never truly quieted. But here, in Mylo’s apartment, the world felt still. The golden light of his desk lamp bathed everything in a soft glow, casting long shadows on the walls. You sat close to him on the couch, knees nearly touching, the air between you thick with unspoken tension.

Mylo leaned back, one arm resting along the back of the couch, his other hand holding a drink he’d barely touched. He turned his head to you, a cocky smile curling on his lips. “You’re staring again.”

“I’m not staring,” you replied, your voice steady, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Right,” he teased, leaning in just enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “You’re just admiring. It’s fine; I get it a lot.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing lightly against his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet…” His smirk widened as his fingers lightly brushed against your hand, lingering. “Here you are.”

Before you could counter, his lips were on yours. The kiss was deliberate, practiced, like everything else Mylo did—confident and teasing, as if he was daring you to keep up. His hand found your jaw, tilting your face toward him as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving with perfect precision.

You didn’t let him lead for long. Sliding a hand into his hair, you tugged gently, drawing a soft groan from his throat. The sound sent a thrill through you, and you shifted closer, throwing a leg over his lap to straddle him. The move caught him off guard, and his grip on your waist tightened reflexively.

He pulled back just enough to murmur, “Someone’s getting bold.”

“Someone’s getting quiet,” you countered, your voice light, but your heart raced as his dark eyes bore into yours.

“Quiet?” His lips quirked upward, though his voice lacked its usual bite. “I don’t—”

You cut him off with another kiss, your hands roaming the planes of his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. His confidence wavered slightly, and you reveled in it, in the way his breath hitched when you kissed along his jawline, trailing lower to the sensitive spot below his ear.

“Mylo,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin.

“Hmm?” His voice was strained, his hands frozen on your hips as though he didn’t trust himself to move.

“Relax,” you said softly, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders.

His laugh was shaky, almost nervous. “I am relaxed.”

“Sure you are,” you teased, nipping lightly at his neck.

He made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, and then his hands were moving, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You helped him pull it off, tossing it somewhere behind you, and his eyes darkened as they raked over your now-bare skin. For a moment, his cocky demeanor resurfaced, his lips curving into a smirk.

“You’re—”

“Don’t say something stupid,” you interrupted, tugging his shirt off in one swift motion.

His laugh melted into a soft sound as your hands splayed against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. The vulnerability in his eyes returned as you leaned down to kiss him again, slower this time, savoring the way his lips moved against yours.

Time blurred as the two of you grew closer—shirts forgotten, your bare torsos pressed together, the heat between you building with each passing second. Mylo’s hands roamed your back, tentative at first, but growing bolder with your encouragement.

But then, as you trailed kisses down his neck, you felt the shift. His breathing quickened, his movements faltering, and his hands stilled on your waist. Pulling back slightly, you studied his face. His dark eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, and for the first time since you’d met him, he looked completely out of his depth.

“Mylo,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

“I’m fine,” he blurted, though his voice cracked slightly. “Totally fine.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “Totally?”

He laughed, but it was nervous, shaky. “I just… You’re a lot. Not in a bad way! Just—you’re, uh…” He trailed off, his gaze darting away as his hands fidgeted against your sides.

“Hey.” You cupped his face in your hands, guiding his eyes back to yours. “It’s okay. We don’t have to rush anything. I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a breath he’d been holding, leaning into your touch. “I don’t usually… feel like this.”

“Like what?” you asked gently, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.

“Like I’m completely out of control,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “You make me feel like I’m... falling.”

Your heart swelled at his honesty. “Maybe I’ll catch you,” you said softly, leaning down to kiss him again.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. His hands found their place on your hips, holding you close as his lips moved against yours with a newfound tenderness. The kiss deepened, but it wasn’t rushed or frantic. It was slower, more deliberate, as if he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into the way his mouth claimed yours.

His fingers brushed your skin lightly, sending shivers down your spine as they traced over your back. You tangled your hands in his hair, feeling the way his heartbeat raced against your chest as your bodies pressed together. The world outside faded entirely, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the quiet intimacy of the moment.

For what felt like hours, you stayed like that—kissing, touching, exploring each other in the dim light of the room. There were moments when his confidence would flicker back—a teasing nip at your bottom lip, a sly grin when he caught you gasping—but they were fleeting, giving way to the nervous but sincere boy beneath the bravado.

“You’re different like this,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to study his face. His cheeks were flushed, his hair a mess, and he looked utterly undone.

“Is that a good thing?” he asked, his voice quieter now, vulnerable.

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “It’s my favorite thing.”

His expression softened, and he rested his forehead against yours, his hands steady on your hips. "You're really something else, you know that?"

"So l've been told," you teased, earning a quiet laugh from him.

The night stretched on, the two of you tangled together in a bubble of warmth and trust. Mylo's confidence unraveled completely, but in its place was something infinitely better-real, unguarded, and entirely yours

---

[bexdrey]

READ MORE???

The sun was setting and Drakken had just landed the hovercar. Another failed attempt and this time Drakken was at his wits end. He got so focused in his own thoughts he had forgotten Shego was with him briefly. She'd tried a few times to get his attention but failed. This confused Shego, normally Drakken would go on and on about how next time would be different. He'd immediately try delving into another plan, but this time was different. This defeat felt worse than the others. Drakken found himself walking down parks path, his hands folded behind his back. His eyes fixated on the ground. Until he paused, lowered his arms and looked up at the sky. "I have failed time and time again. I've done countless plans, some... worse than others, but some of them were brilliant!" Drakken suddenly spoke. "And yet every single one of them end in some kind of failure. Heck, I can't even convince you to come with me to Karaoke night anymore." He didn't meet her gaze and only kicked at the ground slightly before furrowing a brow. He didn't even feel Shego's hand start gently stroking his shoulder. There was a good long pause before he finally spoke once more. "Shego... why do you stick around?" He questioned, his tone unreadable. "With every failure, you complain and tell me everything that went wrong, everything I should've done instead. You'd probably take over the world on your first try if you wanted to." His gaze finally lowered. He stared at the ground for a moment before looking over at Shego, who looked stunned and who's hand had stopped moving. "So why do you keep helping me?" His gaze bore into Shego's, desperately looking for an answer, something that made sense. Shego's hand finally left Drakken's shoulder and she began to run her fingers through her hair. She glanced away, her heart racing. What did she say to this? Did she even know why she stuck around? It was true, she probably could successfully take over the world if she wanted... and yet she didn't have the desire. Something about the thought didn't sit quite right. It was almost like some form of Deja Vu when she thought of it. So then why did she stick around? "Well..." She began before clearing her throat and glancing to the ground, a brow furrowing. "Unlike other villains... I can trust you. I can sleep comfortably at night knowing you aren't gonna try and do something to me while I sleep." She couldn't meet Drakken's gaze as she spoke. She wasn't entirely sure why this was so important to him, it was incredibly rare for Drakken to get like this. Normally she'd give some snappy response, such as the pay being good and her having a free room to bunk in every night instead of some shady hotel. She gave a little shudder at the memories of hotel jumping. "Not to mention you give me my own space to sleep." She muttered slightly. "And you know, you're really fun to bicker with. Easy to mock. Someone like... I dunno, Killigan or Monkey Fist either don't give me good responses or just don't respond at all. You make it interesting." She felt herself relax a little as it seemed she was beginning to understand, herself, why she stuck around. "And you aren't lazy. In fact, I'd say you work a little too much. You're creative, so even though plans fail, there are some that even I fully believed would work." She had stopped playing with her hair at this point and was gesturing with her words. "But I think... I think I stick around because I trust you. You think I'd trust someone like Dementor to help pull off a proper heist? He's too loud! And he doesn't think." She finally met his gaze and Drakken looked surprised. His brow was raised.

"I can't trust anyone else." She stated, matter-of-factly. She remained silent for a moment, trying to garner some expression off Drakken other than processing. "Now, are you gonna mope around the rest of the night feeling sorry for yourself, or are you gonna turn around, get back in the hovercar, take us home and start planning the next 'take over the world' scheme?" With this, Drakken blinked and smirked. "Yeah! You're right, I'm an evil genius, not a sad... lazy... erm.. man!" With this, Drakken turned heel and ran towards the hovercar, but not before grabbing Shego's hand and practically forcing her along. "Come Shego, we've much to do." Of course, at this point, Shego expected these sudden grabs. A part of her even liked them. She'd never admit this though.

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

Weee story and picture :D Mindless doodles turned finished lol

[estapa-edwards]

PROM - R. LEONARD

paring: Ryan Leonard x reader

word count: 4.2k

requested? no

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨��* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

The sound of my alarm blaring at 6:30 AM dragged me out of a restless sleep. Prom was just around the corner, and the pressure was mounting. All my friends had dates, and I was the odd one out. Desperation was starting to set in, and the idea of going alone was unbearable.

As I got ready for school, I couldn't help but think about Ryan Leonard. Ryan was a big deal at Boston College, playing hockey and living out his dream. We had grown up together, shared countless memories, and yet, I hadn’t seen much of him since he went off to college. Could I ask him to prom? Would he even agree? The thought made my heart race.

"Y/N, you're going to be late!" my mom's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Coming!" I grabbed my bag and headed out, trying to shove my anxiety aside.

School was the usual mix of boring classes and the buzzing excitement of prom. My friends, if I could really call them that, were chattering about their dresses, dates, and after-parties. I felt like an outsider looking in.

"Hey, Y/N, who are you going with to prom?" Sarah, one of the self-proclaimed leaders of our group, asked with a smirk.

I hesitated. "I... I haven't decided yet."

She laughed. "Better hurry up. You don’t want to be the only one without a date."

The bell rang, and I practically ran to my first class, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. As the day dragged on, I kept thinking about Ryan. Maybe this was crazy, but he was my last hope.

---- --- --- 

Back home, I paced my room, working up the nerve to call Ryan. My mind was racing with a hundred different thoughts, each one more anxious than the last. Finally, I grabbed my phone and dialed his number, my heart pounding with each ring.

"Hello?"

"Ryan? Hey, it's Y/N," I said, my voice trembling slightly.

"Y/N! Wow, it's been a while. How's it going?"

"Good, good. Listen, I need a favor," I blurted out, already feeling the nerves creeping in.

"Sure, what’s up?" he asked, his tone warm and friendly.

I took a deep breath. "Would you... um, would you go to prom with me?" The words tumbled out faster than I intended. I immediately started overexplaining. "I know it's short notice, and you're probably really busy with hockey and school and everything. I just—well, you know how it is, all my friends have dates, and I didn't want to go alone, and I thought maybe since we grew up together and always had fun, it wouldn't be too weird, but if you can't, I totally understand..."

"Y/N," he interrupted gently, a smile evident in his voice. "Calm down. I'd love to go to prom with you."

Relief flooded through me, but I still felt the need to clarify. "Really? I mean, it's next Saturday, and you probably have a lot going on. I wouldn't want to impose or mess up your schedule."

"Next Saturday is perfect," he reassured me. "I'd be honored to go with you. It's no imposition at all."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Thank you, Ryan. Seriously, this means a lot to me."

"Anything for you, Y/N," he said softly. "I’m looking forward to it."

His calm, steady response eased my anxiety, and for the first time in days, I felt a genuine smile spread across my face. "Me too. Thanks again, Ryan."

"Anytime," he replied. "See you next Saturday."

After we hung up, I collapsed onto my bed, feeling a mix of excitement and gratitude. Ryan Leonard, my childhood friend, and now my prom date. Maybe this prom wouldn't be so bad after all.

--- --- --- 

The news that I was going to prom with Ryan Leonard spread through the school like wildfire. No one believed me. My so-called friends laughed it off, convinced I was making it up to save face.

"Yeah right, like Ryan Leonard is going to show up here," Sarah scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Stop trying to get attention, Y/N."

I tried to brush it off, but the disbelief and mockery didn't stop there. In the cafeteria, I overheard them talking about me while I was in line for lunch.

"Did you hear Y/N’s story about bringing Ryan Leonard to prom?" Emily giggled. "What a joke."

"I know, right?" Jessica chimed in. "It's so obvious she’s lying. Probably doesn’t want to admit she couldn’t get a date."

During gym class, they continued their taunts. As we were warming up, Sarah walked past me and smirked. "So, Y/N, how's your 'boyfriend' Ryan doing? Is he flying in on his private jet to take you to prom?"

Her friends laughed, and I felt my face flush with embarrassment. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay calm.

The worst was in English class. Mrs. Thompson asked us to discuss our plans for the weekend, and when it was my turn, I hesitated. I didn’t want to give them more ammunition, but I couldn't lie.

"I'm going to prom," I said simply.

"With Ryan Leonard," Sarah interjected loudly, rolling her eyes. "Isn't that right, Y/N?"

The class erupted into laughter, and Mrs. Thompson had to call for order. I sank lower into my seat, wishing I could disappear.

Even in the hallways, the whispers followed me. "There goes Y/N, the girl who thinks she's going to prom with a college hockey star," I overheard one girl say to her friend.

"She must be delusional," her friend replied. "No way he’d come back for a high school prom."

I tried to ignore them, focusing instead on getting everything ready for the big night. I bought a dress, arranged for hair and makeup, and counted down the days until Saturday. Despite the constant doubt and ridicule, I held onto the hope that Ryan would come through for me.

As the day approached, the tension only grew. My so-called friends couldn't resist one last dig during lunch on Friday.

"So, Y/N," Sarah said loudly enough for the whole table to hear, "ready for your big date with Mr. Imaginary?"

"Yeah, Y/N," Emily added with a smirk. "I hope he doesn't stand you up. That would be so embarrassing."

I took a deep breath and looked them straight in the eyes. "You'll see," I said quietly but firmly. "He’s coming."

They all laughed again, but I could see a flicker of uncertainty in their eyes. Maybe, just maybe, they were starting to wonder if I was telling the truth.

I spent Friday night in a flurry of preparation, my excitement mingling with nerves. As I lay in bed, I couldn't help but replay the events of the past week in my mind. All the doubts, the mocking, the disbelief—I just hoped that when Ryan showed up, it would be enough to prove them all wrong.

--- --- ---

The night of prom arrived, and I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. My dress was perfect, a deep blue that complemented my eyes, and my hair was styled in loose curls. I looked... different. More confident, maybe. But inside, I was a bundle of nerves. My heart was pounding, and my stomach felt like it was filled with butterflies. I couldn't shake the anxiety that had been building all week.

"Y/N, are you ready?" my mom called from downstairs.

"Almost!" I called back, taking a deep breath and smoothing down my dress for what felt like the hundredth time. I glanced at my phone, checking the time and wondering if Ryan would actually show up. What if something had come up last minute? What if he forgot?

I shook my head, trying to banish the negative thoughts. Ryan wasn't like that. He said he'd be here, and I had to trust him. I grabbed my clutch and headed downstairs, my heart racing with each step.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard a car pull up outside. My heart skipped a beat, and I rushed to the window. Ryan was there, leaning against his car, looking as handsome as ever in a classic black tuxedo. Relief and excitement washed over me, and I took a deep breath to steady myself.

"Coming!" I called out to my mom, my voice shaky. I opened the door and stepped outside, my heart pounding in my chest.

Ryan's face lit up when he saw me, and he smiled that charming smile that had always made me feel special. "Wow, Y/N. You look amazing."

"Thanks, Ryan," I replied, feeling my cheeks flush. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

He opened the car door for me, and as I slid into the passenger seat, I couldn't help but start babbling. "I can't believe you're actually here. I mean, I knew you would be, but still, I was so nervous all week. Everyone at school kept saying you wouldn't show up, and I started to doubt myself. But you're here, and it means so much to me. I know you're really busy with hockey and college and everything, so I really appreciate you taking the time to do this. It's just... thank you, Ryan."

He chuckled softly as he got into the driver's seat. "Y/N, it's really no big deal. I’m happy to be here with you. And besides, prom is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I wouldn’t miss it for the world."

His calm, reassuring tone helped soothe my nerves, and I smiled, feeling a little more at ease. As we drove to the venue, my mind was racing with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Would my friends believe me now?

--- --- ---

When we arrived at the venue, the parking lot was already filled with students dressed in their finest. The school had transformed the gymnasium into a glittering wonderland of lights and decorations. Ryan parked the car and came around to open my door, offering his hand to help me out.

As we walked toward the entrance, my heart was pounding again. I could already see some of my classmates milling around outside, and I knew they were watching us. The whispers started almost immediately.

"Is that really Ryan Leonard?"

"I can't believe he actually came."

I held my head high, gripping Ryan's arm for support. As we entered the gym, the room fell silent for a moment, heads turning to stare at us. The music continued to play, but all eyes were on us.

Sarah and her friends were clustered near the punch bowl, and I saw her eyes widen in disbelief when she spotted us. She quickly composed herself and walked over, her expression a mix of skepticism and forced friendliness.

"Well, well, Y/N. Looks like you weren't lying after all," she said, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the surprise in her voice.

"Why would I lie about something like this?" I shot back, my voice steadier than I felt.

She narrowed her eyes, clearly annoyed that her predictions had been wrong. "Whatever. Have fun, I guess."

Ryan squeezed my hand, and we moved to the dance floor. The music was loud, the lights were bright, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. I glanced around, seeing the looks of shock and envy on the faces of my classmates. It was a small victory, but it felt good.

--- --- --- 

As we swayed to the slow, melodic rhythm of the music, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just Ryan and me on the dance floor. The soft glow of the fairy lights above us cast a warm, ethereal glow, and I found myself relaxing into the moment. Ryan's hand was steady on my waist, his other hand gently holding mine.

I looked up at him, feeling a mixture of gratitude and nostalgia. "Thank you for coming tonight, Ryan," I said softly. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

He smiled down at me, his eyes warm and sincere. "I'm happy to be here, Y/N. It's been a long time since we’ve had a chance to catch up."

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I missed you. Things just aren’t the same without you around."

"I missed you too," he admitted, his gaze never leaving mine. "Life's been so busy with college and hockey, but I always think about the times we spent together growing up."

I bit my lip, trying to find the right words. "It feels like everything changed so quickly. One minute we were kids, and the next, you were off chasing your dreams. I guess I felt a little left behind."

Ryan's expression softened, and he pulled me a little closer. "I'm sorry if it ever felt that way. You were never left behind, Y/N. You've always been important to me."

His words sent a warm feeling through my chest, and I found myself smiling despite the tears that threatened to spill. "It’s just been tough, you know? With everyone at school and feeling like I don’t quite fit in. Having you here tonight... it makes everything better."

He squeezed my hand gently. "You deserve to feel special, Y/N. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise. Tonight is about having fun and celebrating you. I'm just glad I get to be here with you."

We danced in silence for a few moments, the music surrounding us like a comforting embrace. I felt safe and cherished in Ryan’s arms, a stark contrast to the way I usually felt at school. It was as if all the doubts and insecurities melted away, replaced by a sense of belonging.

"Do you ever miss it?" I asked, breaking the silence. "Being home, I mean."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I do. Boston College is amazing, and I love playing hockey, but there's something about being home that you can't replace. The familiarity, the memories... and people like you."

I blushed at his words, feeling a warmth spread through me. "I’m really proud of you, you know. Seeing you live your dream is inspiring."

"Thanks, Y/N," he said, his smile genuine. "And you? What about your dreams? What do you want to do after graduation?"

I hesitated, the question feeling both exciting and daunting. "I’m not entirely sure yet. I have some ideas, but it’s hard to know for certain. I just want to find something that makes me happy."

"You will," he said confidently. "Whatever you choose, you’ll be amazing at it. I know you will."

The song began to wind down, and I realized that for the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful about the future. As the last notes played, Ryan leaned down, his forehead resting gently against mine.

"Thank you for this dance," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.

"Thank you for making it unforgettable," I whispered back, feeling a sense of connection that words couldn't fully capture.

--- --- --- 

As the night went on, I started to relax, enjoying Ryan's company and the magic of the evening. We danced, laughed, and talked, just like old times. But, of course, it didn’t last. My so-called friends couldn’t resist making snide comments and trying to undermine me.

"Look at Y/N, acting like she's all that just because she has a famous date," one of them whispered loudly enough for me to hear.

"Yeah, it's probably just a pity date," another added.

Ryan stopped dancing and turned to them, his eyes blazing with anger. "You know what? Y/N is amazing, and she's way better than any of you who think it's okay to tear someone down just to feel good about yourselves."

The room went silent again, and I felt my cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. No one had ever stood up for me like that.

"Let's get out of here," Ryan said softly, taking my hand.

We left the ballroom and walked outside into the cool night air. The stars were bright, and the tension of the evening seemed to melt away.

"Thank you, Ryan. For everything," I said, my voice filled with emotion.

He looked at me, his expression serious. "You deserve better than how they treated you, Y/N. Don't ever let anyone make you feel less than you are."

--- --- ---

The rest of the night was a blur of laughter and conversation. We drove around the city, talking about everything and nothing, just like old times. It felt like we were the only two people in the world.

After leaving the prom, we got into Ryan's car and drove away from the venue, the city lights twinkling like stars around us. The air was filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated only by our sporadic bursts of laughter and the hum of the car engine. Ryan turned on the radio, and we sang along to old songs that brought back a flood of childhood memories.

"Remember when we used to ride our bikes to the old park and play until it got dark?" Ryan asked, glancing over at me with a nostalgic smile.

I laughed, the memory warming my heart. "Yeah, and how we’d always get in trouble for coming home late. Your mom would call my mom, and they’d both be waiting for us at your house with that look."

He chuckled, nodding. "Good times. Simpler times."

We drove past our old elementary school, the playground now empty and quiet. "It's strange how everything looks the same, but feels so different," I mused. "We’ve grown up so much, but these places hold the same memories."

Ryan pulled over near the school, turning off the engine. "Let's take a walk," he suggested.

We got out of the car and strolled down the familiar paths, the cool night air refreshing against my skin. The playground was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling activity it used to have when we were kids. We walked over to the swings and sat down, gently swaying back and forth.

"Do you ever wish you could go back?" I asked, looking up at the stars.

"Sometimes," Ryan admitted. "But then I think about all the things we’ve experienced and learned. Growing up is hard, but it shapes us into who we are. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything."

I nodded, understanding what he meant. "I just miss the simplicity of it all. No drama, no expectations. Just us, having fun."

He reached over and took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We can still have that, you know. It might be different, but the connection is still there. Tonight proves that."

We sat there for a while, lost in our own thoughts, the silence comfortable and familiar. Eventually, we got back into the car and continued our journey through the city. We drove past our favorite ice cream shop, and Ryan impulsively turned into the parking lot.

"Want to get some ice cream?" he asked with a grin.

"Absolutely," I replied, my excitement genuine.

The shop was nearly empty, and we ordered our old favorites—mint chocolate chip for him, strawberry for me. We sat in one of the booths, savoring the sweet, cold treat and reminiscing about the countless times we’d done the same thing as kids.

"Do you remember that summer we tried to make our own ice cream?" Ryan asked between bites. "We made such a mess in your kitchen."

I laughed, almost choking on my ice cream. "My mom was so mad! We got ice cream everywhere except in the bowls."

"It tasted awful, too," he added with a grin. "But it was fun. One of those memories you never forget."

We stayed there until the shop closed, then got back in the car and drove aimlessly, enjoying each other’s company. We talked about our hopes and dreams, our fears and uncertainties. It felt good to open up, to share parts of ourselves that had been hidden away for too long.

Eventually, we found ourselves at the edge of town, near the lake where we used to go fishing with our families. Ryan parked the car, and we got out, walking down to the water's edge. The moon reflected off the surface, creating a serene and almost magical atmosphere.

"I used to come here to think," I said quietly, staring out at the water. "Whenever things got tough, this was my escape."

Ryan nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I get that. Everyone needs a place like this. A place to find peace."

We sat down on the grass, side by side, the silence speaking volumes. After a while, Ryan turned to me, his expression serious. "Y/N, I’m really sorry about what happened at prom. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

I shook my head, placing a hand on his arm. "Ryan, you didn’t ruin anything. You made it better. I’m glad you stood up for me. It showed me who my real friends are."

He smiled, relief evident in his eyes. "I’m glad to hear that. I was worried I might have made things worse."

"No," I said firmly. "You made it perfect. Tonight has been everything I could have hoped for and more. Thank you."

We stayed there for a while longer, the peacefulness of the lake surrounding us. Eventually, we knew it was time to head home. Ryan drove me back to my house, the conversation still flowing easily between us.

Ryan walked me to my door, and we stood there, neither of us wanting the night to end.

"I had a great time tonight, Y/N," he said softly.

"Me too. Thank you for coming with me. It really meant a lot."

He smiled, that same smile that had always made me feel special. "Anytime. Let’s not wait so long to see each other again, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, my heart swelling with a mix of emotions.

He leaned in and kissed my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Ryan."

I turned to unlock the door, but before I could step inside, I felt his hand gently grab my arm. I turned back, surprised, and saw an intensity in his eyes that took my breath away. Without another word, he leaned in and kissed me, his lips soft and warm against mine. The world seemed to stop in that moment, and all I could feel was the electricity between us, the connection that had always been there but now felt stronger than ever.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathless. I stared up at him, my heart racing. "Ryan," I whispered, my voice barely audible, "would you... would you stay the night? Not like that, I mean. Just stay. I don't want this night to end."

He looked at me, his eyes softening with understanding. "I'd like that," he replied, his voice tender. "I'd like that a lot."

I opened the door wider, letting him in. The house was quiet, my parents long since asleep. We tiptoed upstairs, careful not to make too much noise. Once in my room, I grabbed a spare blanket and pillow, offering them to Ryan for the bed.

"You can take the bed," I said, gesturing toward it. "I'll sleep on the floor."

But Ryan shook his head, a determined look in his eyes. "No, Y/N. You take the bed. I'll be fine on the floor."

I hesitated, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt. "Are you sure?"

He smiled, his expression gentle. "Positive. I'll be more comfortable down here."

Reluctantly, I accepted his offer, settling onto the bed and pulling the covers up around me. Ryan arranged the blanket and pillow on the floor, making himself as comfortable as possible.

"Thank you, Ryan," I said softly, feeling a warmth spread through me at his selflessness.

He looked up at me, his eyes soft and sincere. "Anytime, Y/N. I'm just glad to be here with you."

I smiled, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me. It felt strange, having Ryan here in my room, but also strangely comforting. We had shared so many memories in this space, and having him here now felt like coming full circle.

"Hey, Ryan?" I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Would you... would you like to share the bed? Like we used to when we were kids?"

He looked surprised, but a hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, feeling a sudden rush of courage. "Yeah. I mean, if you're comfortable with it."

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, his smile widening. "I'd like that, Y/N. I’d like that a lot."

We rearranged the blankets and pillows, making room for both of us on the bed. As we settled in, side by side, I felt a sense of closeness that I hadn't felt in a long time. It felt right, having Ryan here beside me, sharing this intimate space.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he said softly, his voice laced with warmth.

"Goodnight, Ryan," I replied, feeling a sense of peace settle over me as I drifted off to sleep, wrapped in his comforting presence. It was a night I would never forget, a night that marked the beginning of something new and beautiful between us.

sorry I haven't been posting. I took a break and it was well needed! but im back should be putting out requests this week.

[montimer]

Joker x hero!reader

Him being ur number one fan (and ur his ;])

Reader in denial and bit dummy

(Could be any ver)

-Back in the hideout-

He jumped to the television when he heard your name. He left whatever he was focusing on, now sitting excitedly infront of the tv. Eager to see you, hear your voice.

An interviewer managed to get you to talk infront of cameras. 'If this is what you all want so bad..' you thought. 'Can't be that bad right?'

While she was introducing herself, his eyes never left your form. Ignoring her, he would get bored if you wouldn't be staring at the camera. "Silly you, you look adorable as always" he says.

"..and today here we are with (heroname)! Say how does it feel like to be one of Gotham's best hero?"

One of? Why they are number one! The best of all.

"Ahah, i wouldn't say that.."

Sweet, as you are always huh?

He kept on watching the show. He focused on every word you said, deeply acknowledging them. Getting worked up whenever the interviewer said something that he didn't like, speaking out loud, correcting her. Talking to no one but the box infront of him.

But one specific question made him go quiet.

"There's this one villain that seems to be very attached to you. You know who im talking about don't you?" The question made you wordless. 'Why yes he sure has been acting weird with you, but its not like that..right?' You tried to calm your nerves. After an awkward second you answered.

"Uh, yeah? Who might that be?" 'Just act dumb, just act dumb'

"The clown prince of crime of course, haven't you noticed?"

You chuckled awkwardly. You kinda felt this coming

"Soo, what do you think of such criminal? C'mon the world wants to know!" She asked you half begging.

Your mind begin to race through options.

'If i say nice things about him, they'll think im on his side, but if i don't, he might get mad' but why do you care? Do you happen to-?

"(Heroname)?"

Oh oh right, answers

"Well uh, well- he's sure is hard to deal with,,but ya know at the end of the day justice always wins!..well expect those few times he got away.."

"Hmm interesting but i'd like to hear more of a, personal opinion"

You tried your best to stay formal, now what? They say honesty is one way of heroism

"Hmm, i'd say he's a genius, just think of the things he builds, the toxin he makes. He's also pretty funny, i mean when he's not hurting others of course! What i ment was..his jokes are great. You gotta have lots of creativity to tell a joke. He's quite a looker too, his costume is nice and all..mmm was that personal?"

The interviewer looked both surprised and amused.

"Yes, that was definitely personal!" She said excitedly.

The amount of eyes made you even more nervous than before. You tried not to face palm. Instead you excused yourself, waved at the camera and flight away.

The interview came to an end.

'Gosh i just hope he wasn't watching' oh but he was, every single second

And there in the hideout he stared at the empty screen. Unmoving, processing slowly what you said.

Hey what did you blurt out just now? Genius,funny,handsome?

He begin to smile wide. Jumping up and down laughing excitedly. Acting like some teenage girl having a crush on a celebrity.

He knew it! You loved him just as much as he loved you! And here he was worrying you were gonna say something mean. Nonsense, why of course with his genius mind-as you said- he could figure it out in a snap of a finger!

He went to pick up the little plushy of you, cuddling up to it. He had every piece of merch he could get his hands on.(and photos he took of you while you weren't looking)

He usually steals them from local shops, and sometimes feeling jealousy upon seeing people cuddle up to the tiny form of you, he burns the rest. No one can touch whats his! He's sure they understand (incase they don't they should know whats coming to them)

In his mind its special and only he can have it, after all he is your biggest fan.

[perlen-gold]

Of Fairest Flame

Yeah, I'm TOTALLY on time for this (wait, it's already November you say?!) but this is something I've been working on for @ainurweek for Day 9: Melkor I Mairon

(I have something for Day 1 - 8 too... just not yet finished... it's a good thing I'm never late.)

Read on on AO3 or under the cut as it's so long 😆 (and also totally unrevised ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ).

Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated ❤️ though I can understand if you're too bored to read!

Also, I'd like to thank the people here on tumblr who encouraged me and assured me this was a nice fandom. Having been a wholly silent part of this fandom for years and years this is the first thing I have picked up the courage to share and I want to tell you, guys, THANK YOU! ❤️❤️❤️

At Mairon’s feet the whole world was made of gold.

When he passed, even the black-oblivion, obsidian-sleek walls of Utumno lit brazen-bright. Pits of bonfires woke beneath the iced rocks, and gilded flame-tips licked at his limbs from the sheer walls of Angband, polished to hot embers and glowing coals in his presence.

Wherever he trod was the flame of his hair. However dark the night, its lustrous strands wove glowing rubies into the roaming night. Whatever darkness he summoned around him was pierced by the golden gaze of his eyes.

His shadow dissolved into a golden crown when his fairness shone forth as he willed it to as leaping water over steep stones and cleaving rocks.

And I saw him take it, this heated glow of his as he had taken the rising crown from my hands. Oh, I had stared at him, harder and deeper than any mountain flesh or gaping chasm. I could have struck him down, torn him asunder as easily as I called spitting heights and depths to my biding. And yet his flame never even flickered in my direction. Not even when scornfully he took the gleaming jewels, heady with his disdain, from me. For my little flame did not shape mountains and chasms.

Gilded iron was his alloy and will his anvil.

It was beauty alone that Mairon shaped.

Patient, or as patient as I would, I watched him call forth in the forge the spearing splendor of my crown and the hideous shape of Orcs under the skies just as meticulously.

There is a fearsomeness in unpleasing appearance and Mairon knew it well. The dread Orcs inspire in the common man was of his design also, naturally.

So was the stronghold of Angband. A rock-hewn fortress of efficiency, warfare and secrecy, I never tired to wander its complexity, wondering and, with all my heart, occasionally longing to fell it just to see how Mairon would rebuild and recreate its terrible beauty all over again, though I never told him so. He knew anway, of course, and kept his keen golden eye on me like a wolf guarding its prey.

Yes, ghastly they were, the creatures Mairon unleashed upon his foes, the heinous Orcs and gruesome goblins, mountain-trolls and blood-teethed wolves, swathed in the blinding darkness of my Balrogs and fire-drinking dragons.

Mairon, however, ceased to be fair in battle.

Oh, he could have seduced most of his adversaries, forced onto week knees with his sorcery many more and all the rest. But a cobra will not feed upon limp flesh, the cheetah must race, the falcon swoop to pierce the songbird onto its claw.

And so, with his flickering flame-smile, Sauron, as they called him, set a different trap entirely to spring.

The light upon his face was an uncanny ally of his.

Illuminating the finest of his bones to marble-cutting flawlessness.

Chiseled heights, darkness and light were there ought to be neither, glowing shades and whisper-gleaming rays of sunlight beneath a blackened sky.

His voice rang the air like silvered iron, mellifluous and haunting at once, as commanding as a furnace and as tender as a caressing hand, his laugh bright sunlit pearls and cruelly suffocating ashes.

At the dawn, on the shore of battle, the highest elven kings, fiercest queens and most spirited warriors rode for him without hesitation. Sauron, the cruel, they murmured stern-faced among them, and he was indeed wickeder than any Orc or Balrog of mine.

They set out and rode and stroke to earn their place facing him, swords held aloft, their steadfast resolve soaring to shield their people and beloved ones and let detested Morgoth’s lieutenant perish at last.

What they met utterly unnerved, unrooted, unhinged them.

Comeliness.

Handsomeness.

Fairness.

Pulchritude.

Beauty.

Those are mere words. Spoken tumbling winter-leaves struggling to paint a hail storm.

He was all and naught.

And more.

And more.

And more of it.

Both women and men trembled in mesmerized dread and eerie, bloodcurdling want, gaping upon him. Intoxicating pleasure rose in them when they first caught his eye. It was like pain to them.

 By then Marion’s battle-born strides would have become languid-long strolls. The few who still had any morsels of wit left about them tried to break away their eyes from the light-infused apparition frantically, searching for the malice of his mace, gripping their swords with their sweat-slippery fingers.

It always charmed him into the smallest, most dazzlingly curving smile. They almost never realized that to Mairon the sword tip’s deadly dance was just another art, another craft to design and shape.

The most valiant were always wild on their obedient horses to shoot like arrows at him.

Towards the end, they all fell, crawled, cursed, glowered, quivered under the tip of his iron-clad foot. I have always thought him nearly never more beautiful than when he coaxes his cruelty like a lover’s kiss before the bite.

Around them their friend’s torn faces and daughters’ and sons’ smeared lips, honeyed with crimson blossoms and singing gold flowers. The unnatural light painted the blood-gasping ground and changed their fallen comrade-in-arms’ gruesome wounds to crimson-cold brocade.

Mairon had them between his teeth till they died of bliss and horror alike.

Until they sighed and shrieked and moaned and wept.

 “You are Sauron,�� they would utter, staring, accusing, spitting at him.

Oh, yes, Mairon said. Smiled. Oh, yes, yes.

Sometimes the very young ones, well-trained boys and girls, would beg him then. Then, Mairon’s rose-soft, velvet-curling lips smiled even more beautiful.

Around him the thrusting, piercing, blood-lilting, iron-soaked air was limned with gold. In this pause, this endless biding of time against the grey-spraying portrait of misting blood and blooming battle he liked to pull off his helmet at last. Slow and delicately this one, rapidly in a great sweeping arch the other time.

It is the last thing they always see.

The reaching length of his hair curling into sunlit waves of gleaming water ripples, his sun-shaming light pouring as endless waterfalls.

The pinkish tip of his tongue a glimpse between his curving gold-dusted lips in the moment of his kill.

In the blink of a startled eye, Mairon’s beauty rippled into a haunting, living, wraith-like phantom.

The high-browed elven lord’s eyes always widened and their lips spit on the ground before his last smile.

Before he opened them as ripe figs bursting on touch.

When I came forth from my fortress, the ground shook with satisfying anticipation and a rumble swept through our armies, his and mine, mine and theirs. As I stepped forward without forewarning, the roiling battle was surging under Mairon’s sway as usual.

A draught of wind … I could listen to the softness of Mairon’s petal-perfect skin in it. I could savor the unnatural shadows illuminating his brow and cheekbones in the exact, precisely perfect way whispering across his features and taste the whipping of his hair in my mouth, scarlet-sizzling as coals. On his flaming head his crown – for it was more iron crown than helmet – was a smooth black somehow enlightening the flawlessness of his features even more. His iron-slinking armor, sharp as curving wolf teeth, clung to the virtue of his shape. His fiery hair, tamed in the forge only, was afly like shimmering birds. I saw it whip through the air as Mairon turned abruptly around even before the roaring Orcs next to me blinked at my sudden presence.

At once, I saw the flare in him bright as sunlit gemstones as I set foot on the battle field, his intricate thoughts shooting like spider’s webs into a myriad of calculations at once.

The mind of any other Valar and their servants are like lily-bedded ponds. Deep their water runs but slow, and the pebble thrown barely bounces across the surface. The ripples are soon gone.

Mairon’s mind, however, darted like fire prancing, dazzling to watch its hundred and thousand swift flickers.

I seldom partook in battle and, oh, hard it was becoming already to stifle my laughter.

Promptly, I could see his clever embers stirred in their battle-focused ash-bed, swiftly and instantaneously.

Ah, how often had I thwarted his meticulous plans in the past before for no obvious reason – not obvious to him, that is – at all?

Sometimes I had leapt into action when he would have stalled my impatient hand, sought to preserve what I annihilated and at other times I had cherished what Mairon had deemed worthless.

So wary was his gaze as it first flew into my direction like a sleeping volcano’s first spark that I could sense a thousand thoughts ignite into a hundred interweaving sparks at once. He knew I was seldom to do what he bid me to and never to follow a plan to its end.

Oh, but he was a quick-bright little flame, and whatever havoc I wrought upon his elaborate schemes he would never be surprised nor deceived twice and what could scratch upon the perfection of his composure once never did even reflect on the polished marble sheen of his features ever again.

Oh, but he knew me so well indeed as the fire knows the logs it steadily consumes. It had become increasingly hard to catch him unawares, to make mark any impression upon his clever, ever-calm countenance.

A thousand wiles I had played upon him through the ages already and a thousand predictions and presumptions were lapping at his iron-clad feet now.

As soon as I set foot on the ground it trembled and Mairon’s gold flame hair was afly.

Instantaneously, his face turned in the direction of my arrival and, though he was far away on a lone hill, in the midst of battle, a commander of forces who would be commanded by none other, I could see his shimmering beauty whip around.

Belike, I would seek his advice or perhaps I would undo all his careful webs and sunder all his admirable designs upon a mere whim of mine –  he was fascinated and loath to watch me do it.

So, as the ground rumbled beneath my iron-clad footfalls and even the darkest creatures of my armies shrank away in fright, I could see him not step back like them but instead devise and foretell a thousand things to be prepared for me, to predict my wisdom – of which he doomed little upon me – and envision the chaos I could wreck.

Bright could I see the light of his mind as he drew it, keen as the nimble blade he was wilding.

A lesser being he was, yes, so much more fragile and less mighty than I. But none of the other Valar, let alone their servants, possessed his mind’s spark-gleaming quickness, second only – or so I hoped to believe – to my own infinite-stretching mind.

Golden thoughts sparked within it, darting as light, trying to decipher the cause and – more important in Mairon’s glittering mind – the ends of my wild stepping into battle.

Again, I almost burst out laughing.

My hammer, however, dragged a gaping gorge behind me. I did not lift it nor unleash its deadly power and that, I think, a brimming in my chest, is what drew Mairon’s suspsicion most.  

From my path, my army swayed, Orcs and darker creatures shrinking back.

But I am a god and it took me scarcely more than a few strides before I reached him.

Mairon’s face was like marble showing neither dent nor impression whatsoever. If I had knelt at his feet his splendid expression would have shattered – but in my mind the idea I carried within me was of another kind and I brimmed with the anticipation of it.

Ah, how unearthly, uncannily, unrelentingly beautiful he was!

Mairon, His sword reluctantly held, raised his gold-infused gaze at me.

Inside the dazzling gold there were cold calculation and smug disdain aglitter.

Ah.

That potent mixture of mocking smugness and complacent taunt.

I have never told him that, though lesser in being, immortality and power, Mairon’s visage bore one fruit none other in Eä could offer.

In all other beings I had seen and sniffed it, beasts and birds, elves and orcs, wild things and god-like creatures alike. The other Valar, too, I had seen the sheen of it upon them – why, even Manwë – and it had filled me with glee unimaginable.

Not him, though.

Never him.

Forest of giles, oceans quick as arrows and mountains sharp as knives, I could see a whole world blazing in his aureate eyes.

Even smug disdain, if he had the nerve for it – and Mairon almost always did. Even, in those rarest moments when he was most unguarded, trust.

Amidst the tides of our forces I stood still in front of him. On Mairon’s flaming hair his crown – for it was more iron crown than helmet – was a smoke grey, somehow illuming the brilliant symmetry of his features even more, his iron-slinking armor sharp as wolf teeth clinging to the sculptured fairness of his shape.

That fierce serpent beauty flashed. Yes, my lord? What is it that drives you forward to my meek reign?

The scarlet flame of his hair tangling around him in a windless breeze, a luscious bow, mockingly coy, of curving lips and white teeth. I could hear his voice tingle in my head.

Having left your hideout, is there something you ask of me?

Ah.

Insolence and impudence. Arrogance. Amusement.

A whole world but never fear.

I could have wrapped my hands around his slender neck and squeezed without even a gleam of scare in him. I could have lifted my hammer, torn the earth beneath his feet, dictated the skies to strike him with thunder and lightning.

Ages and aeons ago, in the sweltering gleam of Aulë’s forge, he had spotted me among the darkness long before I revealed myself. His eyes shone in the dark brighter than any cat’s. Instead of raising his voice, crying wolf and havoc for help, he watched me and I could feel his gold-gaze lingering.

I went back to my underground halls that day, pondering that brazen insolence just to return the next night trying to break his unwavering gaze.

“How do you know I will not smite you where you stand?” I asked him upon the next day in the deserted forge when I let go of the shadows at last to bend over him.

He cocked his head like a bird and returned, smug as a raven:

“How will you know I will not betray you where you sit?”

The cheek! I was a poisonous viper and he was another and, oh, how fiercely I wanted him to be mine, mine, mine then and mine alone!

His soft neck was between my hands before even he could elude me. Instantaneously, the gold in his eyes sparked with realization and horrified shock of what I was about to do in a split heartbeat ere I was upon him. His lustrous hair whipped like gold ribbons in a wind where there was none, his skin was iridescent in his otherworldly apparition-beauty.

His gilt-rimmed pupils dilated but it was already too late.

I pressed my mouth amidst the surging battle forces upon his pearly lips and kissed.

Flame-swift, Mairon’s rage was so instantaneous I had to swallow my cackling laughter just to prolong the touching of our lips a little longer before he could defy me.

A conflagration met my mouth and I, made of ice and fire, allowed him to singe me till I felt actual pain for I burnt and grinned now beholding the utter outrage in Mairon’s gold-limned eyes.

I could not fathom what incensed him more – the fact that I would do this outside the secrecy of his sweltering bed chambers or the incidental truth that I had accomplished to take him yet again by utter surprise.

Suddenly, the hot-white rage came, ever more terrifying and beautiful than a thunderstorm.

He looked like he might have struck me down then and there, me, in front of everyone.

Then Mairon turned – not because he could not but would not strike me – and away he  went like a conflagration to ravage the battlefield, descending upon our enemies as the sun, golden-bright and blind-burning, veiled in the light of stars and comets, and I watched him, his beautiful blaze transforming into a wraith-like furnace which he cast upon the enemy so that neither elven nor mortal survivor – if they survived – would be able to look  at a beautiful face, be it fair maiden or lovely lad or sweet rose, and bear it ever again.

As my thunder-laugh broke from my chest the ground around me shook and shuddered.

Pierced as though scorched, the swelling of my lower lip seared.

Oh, I was looking forward to golden vengeance he would spin to wreak upon me.

I laughed.

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Miscellaneous Monster Tales 8

Walking Mushrooms

I love the running joke in the MMTs that walking mushrooms are one of the most beloved and researched monsters in-universe.

One of the canaries said you can tell what a dungeon is like based on the walking mushrooms and they're usually gigantic when they get dispatched to one.

I think the implication is that giant walking mushrooms are a miscellaneous result and sign of the dungeon reaching level 4 maturity, but I like to imagine the dungeon actually makes them deliberately as part of its growth.

At level 4 maturity, the dungeon is actively trying to attract more adventurers to itself, and it generates riches at the upper levels again to do that. What if it also purposely grows giant walking mushrooms to attract these mushroom fanatics as well?

Unicorn and Bicorn

I'm going to stick with my idea that unicorns and bicorns aren't drawn to people based on any virginity/infidelity/etc traits.

This MMT explains that unicorn horns can purify water while bicorn horns can neutralize the unicorn's power. I think people gradually misunderstood what they can do and started associating unicorns' purifying magic to mean they only associate with purity and bicorns' neutralizing magic to mean they associate with the opposite.

I'm glad this addressed some questions I'd had about the water irrigation infrastructure. It doesn't fully answer if the water in the dungeon is being recycled, but the dungeon is not magically creating new water. It's getting that water from somewhere, either sewage from above-ground or within the dungeon, and purifying it with material made from unicorn horns.

Izutsumi joined in beating Laios just for the fun of it.

Troll

Got super curious when I saw this one since we hadn't actually seen a troll. Was not disappointed at all.

Troll being the half-foot term for a tall-man reminds me how in Elder Scrolls, dwarfs are actually a subset of elf who called themselves Dwemer. The dwarf name was given to them by giants.

The path from "Tall-man" to "troll" is a bit easier in Japanese. The way you'd pronounce "tall" would be something like "toh-ru" while "troll" would be "tu-roh-ru".

Laios only thinks Tallmen are boring because he's been a Tallman his whole life and doesn't understand what makes them amazing. From Chilchuck's perspective, Tallmen are actually fascinating. Tallmen are durable and strong, they have amazing stamina, and they have excellent magic potency. Even if though all the other races can boast being better at some things, Tallmen are actually amazing cause they can do so many things each other race cannot.

We got a glimpse of Chilchuck's kids here.

So the person covered by Leed's portrait in the chapter 56 title image was definitely (probably) one of his daughters. And I guess it's safe to assume his wife has black hair.

It's hard to tell, but the rightmost girl has freckles.

I went back to the title image for chapter 52 to try figuring out if Chilchuck's other kids were in that shot, and I'm starting to think this was from when Chilchuck and his wife were younger.

At first, I thought the person on the left was one of Chilchuck's brown-haired daughters, the person on the right was his black-haired daughter, and the person whose head is barely sticking into the shot was Chilchuck.

But the left-most person's hair doesn't part the same way Chilchuck's daughter's hair does, but it looks similar to how Chilchuck's hair parts. So maybe this is a get-together between Chilchuck and his wife's families when they were young.

back

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for stopping the Clock?

I (46, M) have lived what could be referred to as a "charmed life" so far. The son of immigrant parents, yes, but having pretty much seamlessly integrated into the life of a privileged American, I was born with an unnaturally great well of intellectual potential that frequently alienated me from my schoolboy peers. I had a successful career in the field of crime prevention for many years, and, when the time came for me to retire early due to a federal conflict of interest, I used the renown I'd earned to get a leg up in the field of industry. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though I had no more worlds to conquer. But, as I soon remembered, there's no real point in trying to leave your mark on the world when the future of said world seemed as bleak as it seemed in those days.

I won't bore you by going over recent sociopolitical events; I'm sure you've been reading about it in the morning paper, where it's persistently made the front page at least once a week ever since the '79 bombing of Beirut. All you need to know is that I was just as scared of the looming threat of thermonuclear Armageddon as the average Joe. Hell, if anything, I was probably even more scared, as I was able to conceptualize what would happen to mankind afterwards. The thought of society being dragged back into the primitive Dark Ages because of the selfishness and hate of generals and politicians, instead of further being uplifted into a global technological utopia free of prejudice and despair, was almost too much for me to bear. I felt an irresistible need to do something before everything was destroyed.

Then, one night, I found myself watching reruns of an early '60s TV show called "the Outer Limits". I saw one particular episode, "the Architects of Fear", that depicted a world in a similar state to the one we're living in now, and the plan the scientists in the episode formulated to avert the crisis gave me an idea. The world needed a powerful enemy to unite against, one that belonged to no Earthly race, creed, or nation that could be vilified in the aftermath. The world needed an alien invasion. If the late Enrico Fermi was correct in his calculations, then that meant that there were no aliens to invade us.

And that meant that someone would have to make one instead.

I know, it sounds so cheesy, almost like something the villain of one of those old Republic film serials would come up with, but bear with me. I'd been researching the once-thought-impossible sciences of teleportation and bio-augmentation, both of which had been successful thus far, and had access to a remote and secluded location far from any government oversight. The plan was to create an entirely new organism impossible to recognize as anything originating on Earth, teleport it to the center of a globally-significant metropolitan area, and let the whole world unite to take it down. The death toll would be massive, yes, but it would be nothing compared to the billions in every nation that would be doomed to either suffer agonizing deaths from radiation poisoning or writhe mindlessly in unending post-civilization riots if the Doomsday Clock hit midnight and nuclear war broke out worldwide. Think of it like how fire departments sometimes use controlled burns to stop the progress of actual wildfires.

Of course, like all great plans, every part didn't line up exactly with what I'd accomplished. It was especially hard to find anyone actually willing to help me with it. Case in point: an old colleague of mine, Mr. B (61, M), just so happened to stumble across the location where I was growing the organism. He had previously served in the field of combat, as well as being a bit of a nihilist and a highly controversial figure in general, so I expected him to understand the necessity of fighting fire with fire, so to speak, or at least to find it bleakly funny and stay out of my way. To my surprise, he did neither of those. He called me a madman- a clear case of the pot calling the kettle black- and expressed his intention to go forward to the media with what he'd learned. I ultimately had to kill him to prevent him from telling everyone.

I barely had enough time to contemplate what I'd just done when another figure from my past, of whom I have even less positive things to talk about, came back into my life to inform me that he would be investigating the death of Mr. B- I never bothered to learn his name, so let's just call him "Mr. A" (probably older than me, M). Thankfully, the rude, unkempt, borderline insane little creep had a hypothesis entirely different as to what was going on, so I let him go in the moment and immediately set out to cover my tracks as best as I could. And I did a good job of it, too, if I do say so myself. I won't elaborate on exactly what happened, but I made several more morally-questionable decisions- and, in the end, it was enough for me to pull through. It was crazy enough to work, and it worked. I did it.

As soon as the organism was set loose, an outright homicidal Mr. A showed up at my front door, bringing with him even more ex-colleagues of mine- Mr. D (40, M), Ms. J (36, F), and, surprisingly, Dr. O (56-ish, M-ish), a man involved in an earlier step of my plan who, for a variety of reasons, I was genuinely frightened to see. The battle was brief and bloody, claiming the life of a beloved pet of mine as collateral damage. However, I was able to show them the fruits of my labour just in time- the entire world had lost track of its thoughts of war in light of the so-called invasion and was now discussing potential peace talks, effectively pausing the Doomsday Clock at a minute to midnight.

Seeing what potential damage to international geopolitics could be wrought if they blew the whistle on my plan, I shakily convinced Mr. D, Ms. J, and even Dr. O to leave peacefully, free to go their separate ways so long as they said nothing about the incident. Mr. A, however, stubborn and neurotic as he was until the bitter end, remained resolute in the idea of "bringing me to justice", even if it meant throwing the world away. I'll always remember, in my darkest nightmares, the look on his face when I was forced to have him killed, too- another sacrifice on the pile of progress. But it was over now. I pulled off an impossible deed, and the world was a better, stronger, more loving place for it.

And, yet, here's the rub. Now that all is said and done, I'm no longer certain that I did the right thing.

I sacrificed everything in the name of stopping the Clock and saving the human race from extinction. I killed both friend and foe, both innocent and guilty, and those who survived the whole ordeal will likely never speak to me again. Bodies beyond your wildest imaginings now fill the ruined streets, all dead by what was ultimately an extension of my hand. The only man fit to serve as the impartial judge of all the world is long gone, having left for someplace inaccessible to science, and I am haunted by his parting statement- that nothing ever ends.

Please, just tell me, even if in just some infinitesimal part, that what I did was worth it.

EDIT: I'm an idiot. A blind, idealistic idiot. They called me "the smartest man alive", and I was too stupid to realize that Mr. A was lucid enough to keep a diary. Since its publication, everybody knows who's typing this already. I no longer care about what you think of me. Judge me however you want. Nothing beside remains.

[dearestspirit]

don't die

-> diluc ragnvindr x gn!reader

-> fluff

-> wc: 486

-> note: diluc's birthday art knocked me on my ass so here we are, a day later

you sigh, watching as diluc rummages through his drawers, getting dressed for the day. sitting on your shared bed, you're carefully propped up against a comfy mountain of pillows. yesterday, you had sustained a few injuries during a commission you accepted. unfortunately, with some broken bones and heavy bruising, recovering enough to get back to your work as an adventurer would take some time. diluc, however, had reassured you that any leftover commissions you had, he'd take care of. he knew you wouldn't want to disappoint the commissioners, even though they'd likely be more than understanding of your current physical state. while it was very sweet of him, and you appreciated his efforts to nurse you back to health, part of you also ached to keep him home.

"i wish you didn't have to go," you mumble, easing yourself down into a lying position. "i'm going to be bored all day."

diluc chuckles, shaking his head. "i know, love. i'd stay home if i could. it won't take very long, though."

"any time without you is too long, isn't it?" you quip, playfully pouting.

"don't try to charm me," he tuts, coming to stand at the side of the bed. he cradles your face in his palm, the metal of his rings cool against your warm skin. tenderly, diluc's thumb grazes your cheekbone. "then i'll really stay home."

"promise?" you smile.

"i'll be back as soon as i can be." he steps back, shrugging on the last layer of his clothes.

groaning a bit, you hook your legs over the bed to stand up. diluc is quick to race to your side, holding your waist to keep you steady. "hey, it's okay, i'm alright. i just wanted to say goodbye properly." you hum, head leaning on his broad chest.

"okay, but then i'm putting you back to bed," his lips leave a kiss on your forehead. "i'll see you when i get home."

"alright," you move back, hands settling on his abdomen. "don't die out there. or else."

your scolding amuses him, his head tipping back with a laugh. it makes you smile too, wrapping your arms around him.

"i don't think your commissions were that deadly, dear," diluc exhales, and you can see the faint remnant of his smile on his lips. "let's get you back to rest."

diluc's hands effortlessly take hold of you, lifting you by the waist. settling you on your back, he goes through the motions of adjusting your pillows and checking that you're comfortable. tucking you into the blanket, he leaves the hem of it just under your chin. satisfied that you're content with it all, he takes a step back, but not before planting a kiss on your cheek.

"i love you." he mumbles against your skin.

"i love you too." you tell him quietly, drifting to sleep as you hear the click of the door when he leaves.

[shinpikurage]

"how did you find me" on here 3 people post dainzhu and enjou's tag barely gets updates. you were not hard to find /lh

man i love dainjou. and dainzhu. mostly from platonic perspectives (coughs. aroacedainsleif user name) and the others are funky too, just simply not my style AHDGDG. i've always imagined dainjou frenemies to be like

"We're friends, he just doesn't want to admit it." Enjou says casually, leaning on Dain's shoulder.

Dainsleif doesn't react except for taking another sip of his alcohol. "When the Abyss Order is no more, you may be the last one I kill, but I will kill you." He promises.

Enjou simply waves his statement off, looking at the Traveler. "See?"

The Traveler facepalms, while Paimon just gives him a blank stare.

they are. terrible. but dain would be slightly bothered if something happened to enjou. and pyro heat is good for him and baizhu's chronic pain. so he deals. and i also believe qiqi would love dain but not so much enjou bc he is simply too warm. ex:

Baizhu: qiqi, this is enjou. he's a friend.

Enjou: why hello, little lady! it's nice to meet you.

Qiqi: ...hello.

Q: ...dr. baizhu, i don't like him.

B: qiqi, be nice. remember your manners.

Q: sorry sir...

E: oh, it's quite alright. i understand adults must seem so utterly boring! i've been called worse, anyhow.

(Qiqi leaves)

E: what a shame! kids generally rather like me.

Changsheng: *(very skeptically)* they do?

E: why not? i may be a trickster, but i'd never truly hurt an innocent! my colleagues, though; they'd blast through whoever stood in their way, whether child or hero!

C: so you tricked children.

E: what? how did you figure that out?

C: you basically just said it!

B: no fighting while i'm working on medicine, please.

B: even so, i must apologize for Qiqi's behavior. whether it's about your demeanor or not, she has an avid dislike of anything warm, as it starts to disrupt her body's cryo preservation and start to decay her flesh.

E: yeesh, and i thought i had it bad. no offense taken!

plus. yaoyao shoulder rides in lector form. boy is fucking TALL. dain (along with qiqi) is also there on child supervision and makes sure any launched yueguis don't go too far.

I LOVE YOUR IDEAS!! Especially the frenemy concept!

I also HC Dain as Aroace, but he's Demiromantic and Demisexual, and it takes him centuries to understand it fully, and years to be comfortable enough with Baizhu. And he's a bit emotionally stunned, so probably years for him to accept Enjou as a companion rather than an enemy, but it's okay, they both have the time

I feel like Changsheng and Enjou are the most chaotic duo to ever exist, sometimes Baizhu comes back from house calls and sees them together and he's immediately thinking about all the damage they caused

The number one rule in the household is that Dain, Changsheng and Enjou can't be fully alone with the children because they are such a bad influence on both of them lmao, to the point Ping and Cloud Retainer were asking Baizhu WHERE YaoYao and Qiqi had learned to do pranks on others. They probably do spend a bunch of time playing with them (when Baizhu is working), like hunting frogs or racing, even training them from time to time, but now only with supervision because last time Enjou was teaching Qiqi how to steal

I really love them, I like any Polycule Baizhu ships (that doesn't involve the characters I don't ship Baizhu with ofc). Baizhu and Dain hold a special place in my heart, being two disabled characters related to immortality. Throwing Enjou in the mix just makes it more fun since he's 1. A menace 2. Can also be paralleled to them in many ways

I wish they'd meet in canon, it would be a fun encounter :)!

[beeboos-creativecorner]

Speed, Shadows & Hijinks — part 1

Day 1, here we go ! I present to you, the beginnings of this mess. These were a series of snippets I wrote last year when I was just getting into the Sonic series (and I got bored during tutorial periods and I wanted something to write lol). Believe it or not, it was Team Sonic Racing that got me here in the first place !! And, here, for the very first time, I'm revealing my one Sonic OC, Jinx the Kea (my little NZ gremlin, shit-for-brains birb). To put it briefly, Jinx is under the tutelage of the racer with the most vehicular expertise - you guessed it, Shadow. Needless to say, it's not going smoothly. At all. I'd hate to go without mentioning, although this is the first snippet written, it is certainly not chronologically first. But I'll clear all that up once we get to it because I'm lazy <3

Fic under the cut !!

Speed, Shadows & Hijinks

Part 1 : Deflation

"Hey, Jinx, if your training with him is stressing you out — you know, you can always learn some driving tips from me. I can pull a few strings and transfer your mentorship, I'm sure they'll allow it if I try." It wasn't only Jinx that didn't understand Shadow's behaviour, evidently. Given that, they couldn't really give Sonic any real commitment to his proposition, and instead let off a bit of steam in the form of dismissal.

"Nah, it's just been a rough day, that's all. I appreciate the offer, though." Their head slumped onto the table, the steaming cup above them serving as a representation of their evaporating spirit. They downplayed the situation to the best of their ability, because it was owed. To Shadow or to themself, they weren't sure.

Not even a child could be fooled by their lies.

"How he's treating you isn't fair!" Amy pitched in. "You're doing your best, believe me, you're great on the track! You're not to blame, he is. He just needs a little more patience and he'd see how good of a racer you are!"

Since their arrival, Amy always had Jinx's six. Her surety and confidence in defending the newcomer was never unwelcome. Amy was good with people. There was an undeniable merit linked to the statement, where it was more fact than simple speculation. The words she exchanged with others were rarely misunderstood. She could pacify even the most wild of beasts — or become the thing she seeks to calm. It was either or with her, and there was some relief in knowing Jinx was on Amy's good side.

Jinx saw value in having Amy as an ally... or a friend. Her and Sonic both. Tails too. There was no animosity in their interactions with Jinx and that, they reckoned, was paving the road for potential friendships. What's obstructing your potential from becoming reality? They wondered exactly that. Shadow had cryptically asked that of them once. Different circumstances, consistent question. The answer was plain as day: spending all their time and energy on a serious mug who wanted nothing to do with them or the development of their skills.

As much as they hated it, there was validity to Shadow's criticism. He was nothing if not brutally honest.

"Thanks, Amy, but... maybe he's right. I'm slow, I hesitate; I don't trust myself to do the right thing. And every moment in that vehicle is a split second decision between life and death. Maybe I'm failing myself because my confidence dictates how I'm driving. Should I apologise to him for that?"

"No!" She was so adamant. Jinx admired that to an unfathomable degree. "He's a grump, his reactions are unkind. Just leave him. Tomorrow is a new day and he'll be over it by then, don't worry. I know Shadow, he doesn't hold a grudge unless it's important to him."

The Speed, Shadows & Hijinks Series :

[ Prev ] — [ Next ]

[milflewis]

✄ DVD BONUS: pick a fic and I’ll describe or write a deleted scene!

Telepathy au pls

fic ask game

the way this isn't even an actual fic. let alone one that has deleted scenes. i don't think about it apart from when i'm like what should i write for mark lol. but! my forensic lecture was so boring yesterday that i spent the hour thinking about if it WAS a solid fic then what would be a scene i'd chew over and probably end up deciding nah this doesn't work or say what i am trying to have it say. so. long story short here is valtteri and george talking about fucking and being mind-bonded with lewis but fucking doesn't actually mean fucking or smth like that

"What?" 

Valtteri's voice is hammered flat and low. This is the time for George to brake. He is about to end up in the wall, missing the racing line, tyres spinning.

He keeps going.

“Did he have sex when you were, uh, bonded with him? Or be with anyone?”

It is a little embarassing that he stumbles over Valtteri being bonded with Lewis, and not, more normally probably, his teammate and friend having sex. George tries to be glad that he actually gets the question out at least semi-coherently this time.

Valtteri stares at him unblinking. It is a heavy thing, heavier even than Toto’s. His eyes really are blue, George thinks, a touch hysterically, blimey. 

He feels like he sometimes does after a particularly hot shower; raw and cooked and unpeeled at the edges, like a frog.

georgie, Alex texted him once, sick of George talking about sharing his mind with Lewis, or more accurately, sharing-but-not-sharing, it could be worse yeah.

And then: just think about it mate

Alex believes proper punctuation, or really, any punctuation at all, only belongs in things like job contracts and historical romance novels.

u could be paired w bottas

Oh, fuck off.

George remembers that now, blood gone cold.

Valtteri blinks. 

“Are you really asking me this?” 

George doesn’t think he’d understand Valtteri any better if he shared a mind with him. Not that he understands him at all now.

He can see Lewis laughing from inside the garage, surrounded by his mechanics. George and Valtteri are tucked away in a walkway leading off of it. Perhaps not the best place for a chat like this but the question, well chewed over, slipped out before George could help himself. When Lewis first spotted them, the sea in George’s head didn’t even ripple as Lewis made a questioning face at him. George only shrugged back.

“I just,” George starts, and then stops again. He is crossing a line, he knows he is, even if he doesn’t know exactly where or what that line is. This is something he should probably only be asking Lewis, if he is allowed to be asking at all in the first place. George’s head spins. His throat has gone dry. “You don’t.”

He inhales deeply, and lets it sit in his chest before breathing out. He does it again.

He glances over in Lewis’s direction to see him trying to make eye contact.

“I don’t get him,” George admits finally. It feels like he is showing Valtteri a hole in his chest and shining a light through. “I’ve tried – but, it’s just. He is just, I don’t know. Is he holding back because of – Is this how he is?”

The sea in his head wavers, shivering.

What George didn’t tell Alex is that sometimes it feels like he does share a mind with Valtteri. He isn’t sure someone could be in Lewis Hamilton’s head and not feel connected to Valtteri Bottas.

George knows he is crossing a line, mentioning this to someone other than Lewis, but this is Valtteri. He can hate it all he likes, covet it in a way that he wishes he never found out he was capable of, but it is true. When it comes to Lewis, Valtteri doesn’t really count. Or maybe, he counts for more, somehow.

George has never forgotten the sting in his hand after smacking that helmet, or the plane rides before and after. He once woke up two seats over from Valtteri with a blanket tucked around his knees, despite having fallen asleep without one.

“It is not you,” Valtteri tells him like that is not the best and worst thing George has ever heard. “Lewis isn’t.” He frowns here, careful. There is a slight colour to his cheeks.

George might actually be dying.

“This is not what Lewis does. He tried, I think, before, but it didn’t suit. He needs, um.” Valtteri rolls his eyes fondly. “It’s not about you. He is just Lewis. This is how he is.”

“Okay.” George clears his throat. “Okay, okay. Yeah, alright.”

“Alright,” Valtteri says, only a touch mocking.

“Yeah,” George continues, ignoring him. “I can work with that. Okay.”

Valtteri rolls his eyes again. George decides it is still fond.

[vro0m]

Brocedes hasnt been brocedes all year. Its just a lot more ovi now. We got a certified nico lewis situation at merc. Toto picking the wrong guy once again. Whats new?

Okay first of all I wanna say this can't be a Nico - Lewis situation. There will never be a Nico - Lewis situation again. But I guess what you mean is there's an open, direct rivalry at Merc again. Which. Yeah sure. That's usually what happens. I'm not surprised it's happening, we mentioned it before.

(long post)

I'm not sure what you mean by 'Toto picking the wrong guy once again'. If you mean in the context of hiring George, I disagree because George is a very good driver. If you mean in the race, I highly doubt Toto is the one making the strategy calls in the middle of things. At the very most, the strategists tell him the options and he might green-light one of them.

They've been having strategy issues for a while now. That's also something we've talked about before. If anything, I'd say the issue lies with the strategy team rather than Toto or George. We've said the bad calls were hidden by the good car performance before but also I do think it's gotten worse. Back when it was announced that Vowles was leaving, I said not directly replacing him was bullshit. They claimed the rest of the department would just divide Vowles' workload between themselves. Toto said they'd been doing it already during the '22 season (when did the strategy issues ramp up? idk). What I said at the time was "someone is going to have to make the final decision on strategy" and "otherwise it's not gonna work". It might just not be working.

One thing I'll give credit to George for is that he's trying things. Hasn't there been a convo in the last few weeks with people (including me iirc) saying Merc is too conservative with the strategy? That they need to stop acting like they're at the front, defending rather than behind, chasing? Also isn't it kinda boring when the team doesn't give the car that's qualified behind a chance and only uses it to support the other? (Also with his quali performances lately, wouldn't that do more harm to Lewis than George?) I guess it's just the way being a fan goes, but I feel like every race weekend I see fans of either driver defending what or complaining about what they were complaining about or defending the previous race, depending on who they're rooting for the most. It's okay when it's their blorbo only (which again : just being a fan).

Anyway props to George for being a driver, and asking for more. That's his job. Sometimes it annoys me ngl. Sometimes I feel like he's acting too entitled during the races. But as I also said before, it's not particularly unexpected from a young driver. Lewis was really not that different in his days lol. They all have a chip on their shoulder and they are all essentially starving egotistical cunts. The older ones might just have learnt to hide it slightly better through the years. Slightly. Is Lewis being more of a team player? On track, probably so, props to him for that. Don't know how long it's gonna last in these conditions though, given that he's also a starving egotistical cunt. Off track, he's complaining very loudly and unsubtly about not being prioritised by the team in a not-so-great way imo. I'm repeating myself yet again but it's not as easy as just saying here's what needs fixing with the car, then claiming they're not listening to him when it doesn't suddenly work. Merc is truly fumbling with the development, and patience is not Lewis' greatest virtue lol. He's clearly getting frustrated with the performance, understandably so. I'm simultaneously pretty sure that's true for the whole team, not just him. So him saying they're not doing their best and voluntarily just not doing what he wants is probably not helping.

I do think that the team is gonna have to find a way to make it work between them two on track before they take each other out or straight up disobey team orders out of hunger or frustration. But well. Do I have to link the essay again? (Sorry for bringing it up 10 times a week.) It's not that easy managing intra-team rivalries and I see some people claiming they should pick a n°1 driver but how? Right now, Lewis and George are on par in quali (8-8). George has less points for sure but you also gotta take into account that he's had four terrible races in the year, not always by his fault (although sometimes yes). Outside of these four races, their results are very similar. This is not a Max-Perez type of gap by far. Lewis is most probably not gonna stay for 10 more years despite what he sometimes likes to pretend, George might. I'm still rooting for Lewis first and everybody else second but if you look at this realistically, it's not as simple as saying to George "look we're betting on you for the future, someday, but until Lewis retires you'll always be a second thought to us. But you know, still stay with us and take it lying down. Toodles!" He's completely right about it, but it's easier for Lewis to say "we're fighting for the team not for driver points" when he's the one ahead in the standings. Because what? You always always have to do better than your teammate. (Again, sorry for bringing it up constantly.)

In some way the issue with both of them is impatience. Lewis is impatient to have a good car again and he's starting to somewhat take it out on the team which isn't ideal. For all they looove saying we win and we lose together, that's not a supportive behavior claiming publicly they're just not listening to him. George is impatient to get track position and to beat his team-mate and he's rushing the racing too much, making rookie mistakes in the process (see Singapore) and demanding sometimes more than his due during races.

So yeah I think they need to rein them both in — one off track, one on track — but also without rejecting all new ideas and all questioning, both when it comes to the car and when it comes to the race strategy. It's not gonna be easy, but it's definitely gonna be very interesting.

[ape-apocalypse]

Road To The Kingdom - Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes Film

I remember seeing the trailers for Rise of the Planet of the Apes, shaking my head at yet another remake of a long-ago franchise. In 2011, we were hearing rumors of a new Spider-Man coming to replace Tobey Maguire and now I was looking at Harry, son of the Green Goblin, becoming a scientist and creating a drug to make apes smarter. On the other hand, Andy Serkis was getting a main role, more screen time than Gollum in Lord of the Rings, where I adored him and was eager to see him again. I was going in with some hesitation but decided to just turn my brain off for a summer action movie. 

I was surprised with how much I enjoyed Rise. Many fans seem to put this as their least favorite of the reboot trilogy. I can understand why; it doesn't have nearly as much action as Dawn or War and runs at a slower pace. But what it did have was fantastic character building in Caesar, which is needed in this trilogy. I would not be as engaged with these movies if I didn't love Caesar. Seeing him start as a little baby with his human family living a carefree youth, and then grow into a mature ape questioning his place in the world really filled out his character. He could have easily just been a random lab chimp who got smarter but I think the slow-build really fleshes him out. You empathize with him when he protects James Franco's father to the point of biting a neighbor. The human world completely turns on him and Caesar is forced to realize his true nature as an ape. 

Andy Serkis is truly allowed to shine in this role. Gollum was fun and had the two different sides to play with but there is such a powerful subtlety to this performance. Though Caesar can sign, it's mostly not translated into subtitles; only in two conversations with Maurice does the audience get a translation. The majority of the film and Caesar's story is carried out entirely through his expressions, gestures, and body language. Look at the tall confident walk he has when directing Rocket to give cookies to the other apes. The heartbreak I felt as Caesar's expression falls when his human family says he can't go home. The wordless fury when Buck the gorilla sacrifices himself on the bridge to bring down the helicopter and save the escaping apes. Even when the story can get bogged down a bit in the constant science explanations, I immediately perk up when the focus switches back to Caesar and can soak in the incredible performance of Andy Serkis.

Rise is much less action filled than its sequel films because it has to cover a lot as set up for the apocalypse to come. That set up is good, but again the science is a lot and can be a bore. However I think the pay off works. The horror of a simple graphic of the Earth, where one line splits and becomes many more, spreading across the planet, was very effective for me. I've heard people who didn't like that the apocalypse that destroys the human race is done in the credits, that it feels more like an afterthought. But for me, I think it was a powerful hook. Halfway through watching the film for the first time, I'd forgotten that this was Rise of the PLANET of the Apes. So I was excited for Caesar and his apes to escape, just happy that they'd gotten their freedom. Then the sick pilot and the spreading sickness animation hit me like a ton of bricks like "Oh shit, I forgot the humans have to die for the ape world to happen!" This probably didn't happen for everyone, especially those familiar with the original movies, but I liked the ending, undercutting the triumph of the apes with the doom of humanity.

Other than Will and his father Charles, the rest of the human cast is mostly forgettable, servicing the story where needed. Tom Felton of Harry Potter fame is a bit fun in his over-the-top hatred of the apes. When he gets to say the iconic "get your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty ape", my movie theater laughed at how forced the line felt, which I'm sure was not the intention. The weirdness of the line was swallowed up by the excitement of Caesar speaking for the first time and leading the apes out of the shelter, but I still remember the laughter of the audience when rewatching this movie. 

Overall, I think it's a great start to the series. Not the most exciting of the films, definitely dragged down by a lot of science exposition and unremarkable human characters, but a good intro to the world, setting up the apocalypse and making you root for a bunch of apes over the humans. You probably could jump directly into Dawn and War if you wanted, just knowing that humanity was wiped out by an illness that made apes smarter and Caesar is the leader, but I think getting to know Caesar makes it worth a watch before the more exciting films.

(Note that this is the only movie in this trilogy that does not have a novelization, likely because it was the first film and they didn't know how well the trilogy would do. It's a shame because I would have loved to read the thoughts of Caesar finding his place among both humans and apes.)

Intro / Next