#it is human to see another's creativity and spin it off in your own way

[ruelpsen]

hhhhhhh i need someone in my fandom be into burps bc i neeeeeed burping headcannons for the guys i like😭😭😭😭 i cant make them myself and i know i’ll never get them:’)

Anon, I see you and feel this so much. It's hard being into something a bit more out there kink-wise or fandom-wise, but the intersection of both is even tougher. Believe me, I know how much it sucks for there to not be anything out there!

BUT while it might not be optimal, not all hope is lost. It never hurts to ask around in kink spaces if anyone else is into [x media]. Or alternately, simply try daydreaming. It might sound silly, but a good dose of fantasizing and seeing where your mind takes you can be a great way to come up with hcs. You don't have to do anything more with them or share them (though you always could)- sometimes there can be something enjoyable about finding kinky joy in daydreams all for yourself.

[dark-corner-cunning]

The "Stuck Heart": A Protective Fiber Talisman/Charm For Your Home

Note To Reader: This working was inspired by Gemma Gary's Charm from her book "The Black Toad". And this inspiration was for a recent project that I did for a Magickal Fiber Class. Plus, working with fiber is a more humane and sanitary option than actually having decaying organs within your home. However, if that's your jam, then go for it!

The protection of our homes and loved ones is of utmost importance to all of us. We go to great lengths to secure our homes, install security systems, and even perform rituals to ward off any negative or malevolent energies. However, have you heard of the powerful charm of the stuck heart?

The stuck heart is another charm that has been used for centuries to protect homes and its inhabitants from the influence of malevolent spirits and ill-wishers. It is believed that the hearts of horses or other large animals, stuck with thorns and pins, possess a strong energy that can keep our homes safe from any harm.

Traditionally, the stuck heart is placed within the chimney or hung within the roof space of a home. This is done in secret, without the knowledge of the occupants, for the charm to retain its protective powers. It is believed that if the stuck heart is disturbed or removed, its effectiveness diminishes.

The symbolism behind the stuck heart charm is quite intriguing. The thorns and pins represent the obstacles and negative and malevolent energies that may come our way. By trapping them within the heart, we are effectively shielding our homes and loved ones from their harmful influence, while returning the sent energy back upon the sender.

The charm is not limited to just homes, but can also be used to protect businesses and other properties. In fact, a stuck heart hanging in a shop or office can safeguard it from envious competitors or any negative energies that may affect its success.

While the exact origins of the stuck heart charm are unknown, it is a testament to the belief in the power of positive energy and the need to protect our homes and loved ones from any harm. So the next time you feel the need for some extra protection, consider using the traditional and potent charm of the stuck heart.

Fiber "Stuck Heart" Charm

The possibilities for this charm are endless, limited only by your imagination, creativity, and practice. There isn't much in the way of instructions, but if you choose to hand stitch, I highly recommend using "Print-Stitch-Dissolve" paper for a smoother stitching process.

For my charm. I opted to use felt for its thickness and ease of handling. To secure the pins I stuffed the heart with poly-fill (but you can use whatever you have). Additionally, I incorporated the symbol of a spider's web designed in a clockwise direction to not only trap any harm but also enhance the power of the incantation. Don't hesitate to add your own symbols of strength and significance to make this charm truly yours.

Lastly, feel free to enchant this charm in any way you see fit, but I enchanted my charm over Frankincense and Myrrh smoke while saying this incantation I wrote:

A charm of power, a heart that's stuck A shield against the spirits of ill luck A talisman of protection, strong and bold Against the malevolent, it will hold For what is normal to a spider's web Is chaos to a fly, caught in its dread And so it is with this charm of mine All harm and danger, it will confine

Let those who wish to cause me pain Be trapped in this web, their efforts in vain For as they try to break through its hold Their own harm shall be the price they'll behold With every thread, I spin with care A layer of protection, I will declare And as the malevolent try to creep They'll only find themselves in a tangled heap Let them be caught in this web of mine And let their ill-wishing fall upon themselves in time

For I am guarded by this powerful charm And their attempts to harm me will only disarm So let the spiders spin their webs of fate For I have my own, and it's not too late To protect myself from those who wish me harm With this talisman, I am safe from their charm.

[mimbotomy]

ask game: ❤️🥳🎬💌

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

With so many fics and WIPs, this was so insanely hard to decide, especially because I have so many conversations and scenes that I absolutely love. But I ultimately narrowed it down to five lines that have already been published, even if some of those lines are longer than one sentence or have been edited in my drafts since they were first posted 😂:

From chapter 5 of The Children of Kephallonia, With No Hesitation:

So when their training session ends so they can eat, Kassandra beckons Phoibe over, kneeling down to grip her shoulder and look her easily in the eye. She is not Nikolaos - she will be better than Nikolaos - but there are no other words than the ones her father gave her so long ago, “You are my greatest pride, Phoibe. Remember that.”

From chapter 40 of Rebirth, Sparta VII

“I take everything so personally, remember?” Kassandra hisses, spinning on her heel to face Alexios with a snarl. A snarl that immediately fades when Alexios flinches, and her eyes fill with pain and horror, “No. No, you don’t. Fuck!”

From chapter 49 of Rebirth, Adrestia II

“No, you owe me a blood debt,” Herodotos solemnly cuts her off, “And I order you to live your life thinking of nothing but your own happiness.”

From chapter 12 of To Live by Another Name, Atropos III

The death of Exekias the Legend is a pitiful one. He stumbles back, and drops his helmet so he can try and staunch the flow of blood with both hands. It pours through his fingers and he makes it two steps forward before falling face down into the pool. His blood turns the water red, and when she spits out the piece of his throat and as much of the blood as she can, it floats like a particularly gruesome leaf in a swamp of blood and bile.

From chapter 2 of Not a Malákes Ravenclaw, Ginny I

“Have you already forgotten what happened the last time you tried fighting one of my battles for me?” Kassandra cuts him off, her voice low and hard and full of barely concealed rage, “Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. It was rather quick for you, after all, even if it felt like I spent a thousand years watching your brains dribble out the back of your skull before Deimos tried to kill me too.”

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

Well, although it wasn’t even my first or second fanfic, I really started writing fanfic because of my story Rebirth.

I started Rebirth bc I had been both reading a lot of time travel fix it fics for Game of Thrones bc I was incredibly disappointed in the final season and bc I was looking for AC Odyssey fics that explored a Kassandra that became more god than human. And when I didn't find as many as I would like, I decided to write my own.

And then I found that I really enjoyed writing and coming up with new situations and worlds to put these characters I loved into, and I just kept writing more and more stories. It became my creative escape in the way drawing and painting used to be, which is not to say that I don’t draw and paint now. But when I started Rebirth, it was the middle of covid, my beloved dog had just died, and I had just finished my first year as a graphic design student and what had always been my creative escape had become my job and didn’t help me destress in the same way it used to. And writing fanfic filled that hole easily.

🎬 If a movie or show were based on your fic, which fic would you choose and who would you fancast?

I think I’m going to have to say the Children of Kephallonia, because in a lot of ways, it’s what I wish AC Odyssey had been. But honestly, I think I would rather see that as an animated show rather than live action, and not just because I am so bad at fancasts 😂

But if I had to fancast CoK, obviously there is no one other than Melissanthi Mahut that could be Kassandra. If she is not cast as Kassandra for the eventual live action adaptation of Odyssey, I will riot.

Phoibe is a lot trickier, mostly because I don’t really know a lot of child actors. But I sorta envision her as a younger Auli’i Cravalho? It’s not quite right though.

I actually have to agree with your casting of Barnabas - Ian McShane is fantastic

As for Herodotos, the actor who instantly comes to mind is both totally wrong and also perfect in my mind, if that makes sense. For some reason, I can only imagine him as Ian McElhinney as Granda Joe from Derry Girls, but like, just the vibes? And only in certain moments? If that makes sense?

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

I have three favorite tropes, all Odyssey related. Or at least, I’m pretty these count as tropes.

First and foremost, I love writing OP Kassandra. Control over fire and lightning and the sea, summoning beasts and monsters, turning the Spear of Leonidas into an eight foot lightsaber? That shit is my bread and butter and jam, and even in fics where I make Kassandra a little more human, it’s going to show up at least a little bit.

Second, I love exploring Kassandra and Ikaros’ bond as something more akin to the bond between human and dæmon in the His Dark Materials books. Like it’s less Kassandra just occasionally astral projects into an eagle and more Ikaros is a not so small piece of Kassandra’s soul, the most important relationship in her life, and they are both individuals and one and the same.

Third, Phoibe lives. Her death in canon serves no purpose except to make Kassandra sad and makes no narrative sense. Obviously, Phoibe should have been the Atreus to Kassandra’s Kratos ala the God of War reboot, and there is nothing that will convince me otherwise.

With the exception of my MCUxOdyssey crossover, in my fics Phoibe either A, never dies at all, or B, comes back to life whether through time travel (ex Rebirth or my WIP A Flap of an Eagle’s Wings) or because Kassandra literally drags her out of the Underworld (ex A Miscalculation, Not a Malákes Ravenclaw, or my WIP There is No Escape. . .)

Ask me more!

[rswitz]

Now that my 2.5-year art journey has come to a close, I thought I’d share the lessons I’ve learned to hopefully help fellow beginners:

Art is a conversation.

I took piano lessons for several years during my adolescence and became fairly good at reading sheet music of songs composed by other people and playing them. However, I have yet to compose an original piece, which had me under the impression that I had no creativity, which I also thought was an unchangeable aspect of myself. But someone I talked to postulated an alternative conclusion; art is a “conversation” - it involves taking influence from others and putting your own spin on it. In a sense, “creativity” isn’t something you’re “born with” as much as it is something you develop over the course of practice.

There will always be someone better.

Now, this doesn’t mean there’s no point in improving at all. It’s a reason to never stop improving. Also, “better” is subjective - someone might excel in some aspects but still fall behind you in others.

You likely won't live up to your idols. And that's okay.

This is one I still have trouble with. I was comparing myself to my inspirations, saying things like "[artist] didn't start when they were already 18. Therefore, it’s too late for me. [artist] didn't need the internet to learn how to draw. Therefore, I shouldn't rely on the internet either." You aren't your idols - you are you. And who knows - you could be an “idol” to someone else yourself one day. That doesn’t mean they’ll have to emulate every step of your journey.

It isn't "too late".

This is another behavior I'm still guilty of and am trying to stop; whenever I see art online, I immediately take to the artist's profile to make sure they're older than me, and if they aren't, I become depressed and discouraged - I feel like I’ve wasted time. However, I try my best to remind myself that just because I’ve been alive longer than someone else doesn’t mean I’ve been drawing as long as they have (I started at 18 years old), and even then the amount of time one has been drawing still doesn’t necessarily equate with skill. There will always be young prodigies in every creative discipline, but just because they’re the majority of the ones you see “retweeted” or “liked”, doesn’t mean that represents their proportion to the general public; for every artist half your age on Instagram with thousands of followers there are dozens of people twice your age who don’t draw at all. Your own path is incomparable to others. Again, I’m still struggling with this myself - I remember freaking out a couple of years ago when I found out an online artist I looked up to was the same age as me. I felt like I didn’t want to become good in the future - I only wanted to have already become good in the past while I was still young, and I remember thinking “why didn’t I start earlier while I was still young?” (the reason being that it had simply never crossed my mind). It’s tough, but I try to remind myself that I can only affect what I can do right now.

In a sense, there are no "original" ideas.

Continued from the 1st point, art (in all senses of the word, not just visual) evolves throughout the human civilization's lifespan by being communicated from person to person in the exact same way language does; at one point in history the first word in “modern” English was spoken, but it didn’t come from nothing; it came from “Middle” English, which itself had influences from “Old” English and Norman French. Some people coin entirely new phrases, but most are derived from pre-existing words and go through so many generational changes that the original template is unrecognizable, giving off the false illusion that it is completely original and that it required no outside influence.

Depression doesn't necessarily spark creativity.

I say this because used to be under the impression that since one of my favorite artists wrote and recorded my favorite album of his while suicidal and on cocaine, that would mean if I was depressed for long enough, I would have a "creative spark awaken in me". This actually isn't as common as you'd think, and when it does happen it happens to people who have already built up the skills anyway (that album wasn't the artist's first album, for example).

References are your friend - the only way to "cheat" is to pass off someone else's work as your own.

Most artists don't advertise what resources they use the same way a magician never reveals their secrets, but this fact used to have me under the impression that I had to draw everything from memory if I wanted to get good. There was a long time when I thought I wasn’t creative enough to be an artist since I couldn’t draw anything from memory. Obviously, that is not true. Now, you shouldn’t post work that’s been traced faithfully to the point that someone who saw the original work would easily recognize it without crediting who you traced, and you especially shouldn’t post someone else’s unaltered work on the internet and pass it off as your own, or say things like “IDK the artist, I found this on Pinterest”.

Take advantage of as many resources as you can.

Despite what I used to think, it isn't "disrespectful to artists who lived before the internet" to learn via online learning resources - it's not like Van Gogh limited himself to painting on cave walls. If you lack the time and/or attention span to watch educational videos as I do (which is why I could never learn from YouTube tutorials or anything like that), there are always books. I personally recommend Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain by Betty Edwards, Keys to Drawing by Bert Dodson, and Figure Drawing for all its Worth by Andrew Loomis.

Practice as often as you can.

Not much to elaborate on. Just common sense, really. If you can never think of what to draw, simply look around you. Try drawing the trash can to your left, your computer monitor, or even the pencil you're drawing with. A lot of these practice drawings will, to be blunt, suck ass, but even though artists rarely post these early pieces of theirs doesn’t mean they don’t exist. That’s why I’ve posted some of my early bad pieces on the internet in the past ([1] [2]) so that there will be at least one piece of evidence that every artist goes through this.

Practice a variety of different aspects. Just drawing repeatedly isn't enough on its own.

For the two years I was drawing, I only ever copied pictures of cartoon and anime characters, so naturally, those became the only things I could draw. I also used to scoff when I heard people say “Anyone can get good if they practice”; my go-to response was “Practice what? I can’t practice what I don’t know.”, because my skills were completely static for the couple years I drew, as I hadn't learned any fundamentals and was only "practicing" while still unskilled. This is where classes and/or learning resources come in. Try to spread yourself out and become versatile. Personally, I think that those motivational comics that say "Just draw/practice!" [Exhibit A] [Exhibit B] should also say "also learn some fundamentals as well because just practicing without them won't get you anywhere".

There's nothing wrong with needing some help.

I used to think being able to call myself "self-taught" as some badge of honor was more important than improving, due to all the online artists who brag by putting "self-taught" in their profile descriptions. My stubbornness in this aspect once got to the point where I refused to use external resources, as I thought I had to only rely on myself in order to be worthy of being considered a true artist. Some people learn best from researching on their own time, and others learn best from being taught by someone else, myself being part of the latter. Despite what some may say, neither is necessarily better than the other.

Be humble, but don't sell yourself short either.

Try to adopt a neutral and objective view of your work - rid your mind of thoughts like “I’m the worst, so what’s the point of improving?” or “I’m the best, so I don’t need to improve.” I’m still struggling with this myself, particularly the former.

Try to learn to take criticism.

This is yet another one I'm still trying to work on, seeing as I'm pretty thin-skinned. However, it's necessary for improvement. The best kind of criticism is specific and detailed. Try to ignore criticism that’s vague, as that critic does not have your improvement in mind.

You don't need a "good reason" to start drawing.

I personally started because I saw a character in a story who also happened to be an artist that resonated with me, and I kept doing it because I wanted to be good at something for once, even though I didn’t enjoy the process itself. 

If you feel like putting yourself and/or your work down in front of others …

… Just keep in mind there’s a possibility someone less skilled than you who admires your work as something to emulate could be listening, and that you are now insulting them as well. Sincerely, spoken as someone who very often sees artists leagues better than them putting down their own work and thinks “If that’s considered “bad”, then what does that make my art?”.

"OP, these are 'Captain Obvious' points; everyone already knows these things."

Maybe. Maybe not. Several months ago, when I myself was a young and naïve artist just starting out (as I still am now…), I would've definitely needed to listen to these pieces of advice.

[mauesartetc]

Yeah I just want to ask how can I truly design a character or anything without using a reference or sort of inspiration? Because something from scratch is hard and challenging.

Creating without inspiration? Literally impossible. Every work of art, every idea, every thought that goes through a person's head references something in their past experience. Salvador Dali's work, for example, is unquestionably strange, but tethered to reality by familiar objects and concepts.

"Persistence of Memory" would've looked very different if Dali didn't know what watches were, or what ants were, or how water reflects the surrounding environment. In a similar vein, he wouldn't have painted his elephants with such long, spindly legs if he hadn't known real elephants didn't have them. Basically, he posed "what if" questions: What if watches melted? What if I incorporated a fragment of a human face into a landscape? What if elephants had legs like spiders? And so on.

Asking a "what if" question is a great way to get the creative juices flowing. Just off the top of my head: What if frogs had armor? What if we used a different set of colors for traffic signals? What if bananas were furry? Hell, the groundwork of whole-ass fictional universes (including my own) has been based on "what if" questions.

But yeah, attempting to create anything without any sort of inspiration is kind of a ludicrous goal. By this logic, anyone whose creation is remotely based in reality is an unoriginal hack. No human being can truly create something from nothing; that's just not how creativity works.

What you can do, though, is take something that exists in the real world and put your own spin on it. Just look at how many different interpretations of the moon artists have produced over the years.

I don’t recommend drawing much inspiration from other character designs, as it runs the risk of making your work derivative. Instead, try exploring avenues outside the medium you’re designing for. Is the character intended for animation? Go to a museum and take in some stationary art. Is the character intended for comics? Go see a movie. An illustrated book? Read a novel. Y’know, just a few examples.

Absorbing lots of different types of art is great for inspiration, but in terms of originality, nothin’ beats good ol’-fashioned LIFE EXPERIENCE. I mentioned this in another post, in which I urged animators to live their damn lives, but the same goes for character designers, too. Your own unique experiences and way of seeing the world will help you concoct unique characters. 

Essentially I’m telling you to touch grass in the nicest way possible. Just get away from the internet for a while and see what you see. And take a sketchbook with you.

[goodnightmemes]

DEXTER SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS (PART TWO)

Lines taken from 2x07-2x12 of the show Dexter. Feel free to change pronouns or edit in any way to better fit your needs. Here is part one.

❛ I thrive on chaos. But this is good, too. ❜

❛ I had to do a little creative problem-solving at someone else's expense. ❜

❛ Pardon my tits. ❜

❛ Are you trying to fuck her or set her on fire? ❜

❛ Sometimes the truth speaks from a peaceful place. It's taken me a long time to find that place, but I think I have, and it's telling me you're not the right one for me. I'm so sorry. ❜

❛ Is that what I am? Clean? 'cause I don't feel that way at all. ❜

❛ No, I won't do that. I won't let you turn me into you. ❜

❛ Hope you don't expect me to comment on that so you can record it on your hidden tape recorder. I wasn't born yesterday. ❜

❛ Your past is a bigger mystery than fucking Jimmy Hoffa. ❜

❛ No matter what you try, no matter when, no matter how hard you work, I'll always be a step ahead of you for one simple reason. I own you. ❜

❛ When I'm alone and it's quiet, I get scared shitless, like I start hearing what's really going on inside. ❜

❛ 'Cause when you're around, I kind of feel like I can deal with anything, you know? ❜

❛ I've always worked best in the shadows, and that's where I have to stay. ❜

❛ You can't go back. You know that. ❜

❛ You are not allowed to talk about anyone I date as long as you're seeing little Miss "pardon my tits." ❜

❛ She is obviously a vampire. A gross english-titty vampire. ❜

❛ Can't change who I am. I'm crass and dirty, and...I have a very filthy mind. ❜

❛ Jesus Christ. They sell anyone a gun in Florida, won't they? ❜

❛ That man. He wasn't trying to rob you. He was trying to kill you. ❜

❛ Nothing you could do,___, would scare me. ❜

❛ Whatever comes, we'll get through this together. I'm not leaving your side. ❜

❛ I need to embrace who I am, who I've always been. ❜

❛ It's like I've been living underwater, holding my breath, and now I can finally breathe. ❜

❛ ___ almost had me believing it was possible to change, to become something else, as if that ever really happens. I've always known what I am. ❜

❛ I'm finding it's best to accept things you can't change, you know? ❜

❛ Is this the monster that you keep telling me about? ❜

❛ Trust me, when you meet the monster, you'll know. ❜

❛ Nice. My subconscious isn't even bothering with symbolism. ❜

❛ I feel...such regret, which is rare for me. But not that I don't mess up. I do...just never so stupendously. ❜

❛ If they're looking for proof, they won't find it. Not here at least. ❜

❛ Then maybe you should come with us, because who knows what secrets will come ❜ pouring out of me once the drinks start flowing. ❜

❛ I'm done with it and you. Did I not make that clear last night? ❜

❛ Those friends of yours, they didn't even know you. They just see the mask, but I see it all. ❜

❛ Can't live with her. Can't kill her. ❜

❛ Fuck! I'm talking about my feelings. What the fuck is your problem? ❜

❛ I've always sensed there was something... off about him. Like he's hiding in plain sight. ❜

❛ If you got in the middle of this and you got hurt… ❜

❛ The only way I can help you is if you turn yourself in. ❜

❛ Don't you disappear on me. ❜

❛ I want you to know that you meant a lot to me, more than you know, and... I just want to thank you for that. ❜

❛ If I never see her again, it'll be too soon. ❜

❛ Sleep would be nice, but there's too much to do. ❜

❛ Okay, I may be sleeping with him, but it doesn't mean he tells me shit or listens to me about anything, so stop asking! ❜

❛ That's right, motherfucker! It's over. ❜

❛ I knew there was something with you. But this shit? ❜

❛ What can I say? You were right about me. I never held it against you. I don't now. ❜

❛ It's a graze wound. Minor tissue abrasion. No hemorrhage along the bullet track. Sorry. I think I'm gonna live. ❜

❛ If you're not gonna let me go, then kill me now. Just get it over with. ❜

❛ You're a killer. I catch killers. ❜

❛ So it's okay to take a life as long as you get a paycheck for it? ❜

❛ Either kill me or set me free. ❜

❛ Taking a life is one thing, but the care and feeding of it is another. ❜

❛ I'm generally confused most of the time. ❜

❛ You ever care about anyone? Then you shouldn't have to ask. 'Cause when you care about someone, you do what you have to do. ❜

❛ I remember when life was easy, when the only question I worried about was "who's next?" Now it's: "How can I dodge my protective detail? "What should I do with my hostage?" These are not easy questions. ❜

❛ It's not about what I think. It's all about the evidence. ❜

❛ Hair-pulling may not be manly, but it's very effective. ❜

❛ If he wanted me dead, I'd be dead by now. ❜

❛ You are the only one I can count on, jackass. ❜

❛ It puts a pit in my stomach that I can only interpret as... sadness. ❜

❛ You working on an exit strategy? I'm afraid that's not gonna happen. ❜

❛ How come there's never a circus when you need one? ❜

❛ What was that shit last night? Some kind of fucking scare tactic? ❜

❛ Don't test me. I could have killed you. I didn't. ❜

❛ You're actually angry. I've never seen you angry. This is good. ❜

❛ I should warn you. You can't play on my feelings. I don't have any. ❜

❛ It's a tough job. It can wear on even the best of us. ❜

❛ I yell a lot...and bitch and complain, and I keep expecting people to guess what I want, but I never really say it. ❜

❛ And that was exciting, you know? The not knowing. What might happen, what could be. It was all possibility. ❜

❛ Your life is going to rest in the hands of the criminal justice system you put all your faith in. I wish you the best of luck. ❜

❛ You need help. Let me help you. ❜

❛ You don't have to do this! You don't have to kill this man! ❜

❛ Sorry it had to go down like this. But there really was no other way. ❜

❛ Stay away. Just stay away from me. ❜

❛ Did you happen to be stuffing a human leg into a garbage bag at that point? ❜

❛ There's that anger again. You got to let that out. ❜

❛ You're spinning. Let me help you. It's only a matter of time before you'll hurt someone else. ❜

❛ Take responsibility for who you are. ❜

❛ Why can't you just let me go? ❜

❛ If I got to choose a person... A real person... to be like, out of anyone, it'd be you. ❜

❛ Who joined who in the shower this morning? ❜

❛ For such a neat monster, I'm making an awfully big mess. ❜

❛ Maybe this is how evil works. Destroying everything it touches. ❜

❛ I've been held prisoner in a cabin for two fucking days. Fucking hellhole. ❜

❛ After everything we've been through lately, I just want... to be together with you guys. ❜

❛ You told me to take responsibility for what I am. You were right. ❜

❛ I can't live in this house of cards anymore, waiting for it all to fall down. I need to do something, you know? ❜

❛ If I do this, I need a day to get my affairs in order. ❜

❛ Mention that when they interview you for the story of my life. ❜

❛ Don't leave me in this cage, anything could happen. ❜

❛ I lie to everyone I know... except my victims right before I kill them. It's hard to establish much of a rapport there. ❜

❛ Sorry about the cage. ❜

❛ I've always been curious to try. Do you have any weed? ❜

❛ Love's a battlefield. Or in your case, a restraining order. ❜

❛ When a pretty girl smiles and bats her eyelashes, we're powerless to resist. ❜

❛ I met with a lawyer yesterday. He helped me prepare a living trust that gives you control of all my assets in the event of my death or... certain other situations. ❜

❛ God. Go away. This is creepy. ❜

❛ I'm free tonight, you wanna stop by? We'll have beer, a couple of steaks? I wanna talk to you about something. ❜

❛ I just need you to know that... you and the kids are very important to me. No matter what happens, I want you to always know that. ❜

❛ I know I've been taking things slow with us, but it's not because I don't have feelings for you. It's more like I have too many feelings, and I just wanna make sure to get it right. ❜

❛ I want you gone. Tonight. ❜

❛ I've spent a lifetime keeping up my guard, watching my back, wearing my mask. Relief was never in sight until now. ❜

❛ Lately, I was starting to feel like I had my head pretty far up my ass. ❜

❛ You decide who you are, who you want to be...and you hold onto that and ride it out. ❜

❛ I need some help! Just open the door! I'm being held captive. ❜

❛ Damn, it's good to see another face. I never thought I would. ❜

❛ When something beyond reason happens, it turns skeptics into believers. ❜

❛ If you believe that God makes miracles, you have to wonder if Satan has a few up his sleeve. ❜

❛ I can't exactly feel their pain, but I can appreciate it. ❜

❛ I kinda forgot who I was. I got it straight now. ❜

❛ The term is homicidal maniac. Not that I'm judging. ❜

❛ A public place. You thought I was gonna...That I would slip my needle into your neck? ❜

❛ You're afraid of me now, aren't you? ❜

❛ You're emotionally color-blind. You use the right words, you pantomime the right behavior, but feelings never come to pass. ❜

❛ You know the dictionary definition of emotions: longing, joy, sorrow...You have no idea of what any of those things actually feel like. ❜

❛ I created a monster of my own. ❜

❛ What did you do to make her so pathetically crazy for you? Does your dick dance? ❜

❛ What're we doing home in the middle of the day? She asked, hoping for sex. ❜

❛ Why? Why do I have to make up my mind? ❜

❛ I've never put much weight onto the idea of a higher power. But if I didn't know better, I'd have to believe that some force out there wants me to keep doing what I'm doing. ❜

❛ As it turns out, nobody mourns the wicked. ❜

❛ Am I evil? Am I good? I'm done asking those questions. I don't have the answers. ❜

[castiel-left-his-mark-on-me]

Hi, Ary, very inactive ex-mutual(i think???) here. Good to see you thriving! ♥ It's been a while since I've dipped my head into cockles stuff. Could I perchance maybe ask uuuuum tf is going on??? lol I see Mish apparently confirmed he used to stay over at Jensen's in Van, and heard newbs were apparently freaking out about it and getting a bit messy, which I get that, business as usual. But I'm also seeing shit about spin-offs? And Jared getting in a twitter fight with Jensen, causing/resulting in stans to going feral and sending hate?? I know you're not as big a fan of Jar, but that's part of why I figured I'd ask you, you usually have a really level head about this kinda stuff. If you don't wanna answer publically, or at all, that's totally chill!

Hey, Rhi! We're still mutuals! Of course we're still mutuals! When I saw the notification of your ask, I was like "Hey! I haven't seen you in a while!" and my husband was like "???" and I said "Tumblr" and he said "Oh."

It was a wild time haha.

In any case, welcome back to the dumpster fire! We are obviously still a mess. So to catch you up, I guess I will start by summarizing both before and after the finale (not sure where you left off so this might be redundant for you) ... basically, it became obvious as the end of the show neared that Jensen was not on board with the plan for the finale; although Jared never stopped singing its praises.

We got confirmation of this during a zoom interview where Jensen said that he actually went into the writers room as well as called Kripke to basically voice how he didn't agree with the direction the final season was going, but he was shot down on all fronts. In another interview, he was asked "What would you tell your younger self going into this career?" And Jensen responded with: "I would tell myself to just keep your head down and do the work" meaning, "Don't try to change things because you can't." I also think that this whole situation is what he wrote "Let Me Be" about for his first Radio Company album, but that is just my own speculation. All of his reluctance, even though he always followed it up with "But I eventually saw the value in the script" or "I came around in the end" (which never sounded sincere, and I don't think he was really trying to sound sincere) made us all very nervous about what was to come for 15x20; and of course, when the last two episodes aired, we saw just how badly they fucked it up.

After the awful finale, the entire fandom became aware of the CW's heavy handed role in the thing, basically squeezing all the life out of SPN to shape it into a ramp from which Walker could launch itself. They not only erased all the love and joy and representation that Cas's love confession gave us, they also tore apart the things that made sense about the bond between Sam and Dean, making it really just about Sam-- and therefore Jared, which of course, Jared seemed to be fine with ... even though no one else was. Misha barely said anything during the finale, and a few of the other actors talked about the show ending in various posts, but Jared tweeted up a storm ... and Jensen? Jensen just sat in sexy-silent resentment of the whole thing. He didn't tweet, he didn't post, he didn't say a word once he no longer had to, and I think that's because he was already going full-steam-ahead on his plans for redemption.

Which brings us to Chaos Machine-- Jensen and Danneel's new production company that is being run by a queer creative director and has a mantra of inclusivity and representation woven throughout it's fabric; and apparently, the first story that Jensen wanted to tell through this new platform is the origin story of Sam and Dean's parents; so last week (?) he announced the upcoming production of "The Winchesters" -- the untold love story of John and Mary. Obviously, John is not the most likable character from the show, so the idea was met with a lot of resentment when it was first announced, but Jensen has gone on to say that he is excited to take on the task of telling the "true" story behind these characters-- the one that makes sense with the pre-established canon and doesn't reject it. So, given that, the idea is being mulled over with a bit more optimism from the fandom.

Who isn't being optimistic though?

Jared Padalecki.

When Jensen made this announcement on Twitter, many of his friends and coworkers congratulated him, but not Jared. Jared responded with a passive aggressive: "I'm happy for you, man, but I wish I didn't hear about it through Twitter." This of course, sent all the die-hard Jared fans into a tizzy and they immediately began asking him if he was serious (hoping it was just a joke-- we all hoped it was because there would be fallout no matter what one's opinion on Jared is). Instead of leaving it there though or just deleting that tweet, Jared went on to tweet some more, saying that he was being serious that he didn't know about the plans for the prequel, and that he was "gutted" that Sam apparenlty wouldn't be included (mind you, this a prequel to SPN... meaning BEFORE Sam and Dean were even born, so how could Sam be included? But Dean is apparently narrating this story so maybe Jared thought Sam should be helping to narrate it? I don't know). But Jared being Jared couldn't just leave that there, he then went on to tweet at Robbie Thompson who was announced as a writer for "The Winchesters" so then Jared went off on him too, calling him "Brutus" and a "coward" acting like Robbie betrayed him (speculation is-- Robbie refused to write for Walker, so Jared is pissed that he essentially chose Jensen over him). He did fairly quickly, remove that tweet attacking Robbie, but of course the damage was done at that point. And it truly only took his first tweet calling out Jensen for some people to be like "Jared-- that sucks if you didn't know but why are you saying any of this publicly?"

As you might know, Jared has had issues in the past with posting hurtful things on social media, and has even used it as a tool for attack before-- calling out customer service agents and public workers that he felt have wronged him, which is bad enough ... but for him to then do the same thing to his best friend of well over a decade? Many people who had once liked him or at least gave him the benefit of the doubt (I used to ...) stopped after this latest twitter tantrum.

However, some people have suspected for some time that J2 had a falling out either shortly before the finale or just after. Their public/social media interactions have seemed awkward, stilted or even non-existent in moments that they normally wouldn't be. In the past year, when Walker premiered, Jensen didn't say much about his friend's new venture other than a "Congrats. buddy" here and there. Later, we learned that Jensen refused to work on the show ... Jared said he make him do it, drag Jensen to the set "kicking and screaming" which made many fans quirk up an eyebrow because, why would Jensen put up a fight unless the two weren't as close as they used to be? And then Jensen moved his family to Colorado (either permanently or for an extended period at least) which is notable considering how he moved to Texas seemingly to be closer to Jared, even buying a house that was near his. All this was just speculation though; but it wasn't until Jared's tweet complaining about not knowing about the prequel that the theories behind them falling out, became less theory and more fact.

The day after his twitter tantrum, Jared tweeted again-- not retracting his statements or apologizing, but instead saying that he and Jensen "talked" and were "all good". Jensen then tweeted too, parroting this statement to some degree, which only made the whole thing even more sour in the mouths of the fans. The fact that Jared didn't apologize for his outburst and throwing his friend under the bus, and also the fact that Jensen-- Mr. Sexy Silence, Mr. Never Tweets, Mr. Tech-Ignorant-and-Proud, actually had to POST SOMETHING saying that he and Jared made up, it just screamed OPTICS. It was obviously the work of agents and PR firms and lots of people going "Look, if you two keep beefing, that will mean the death of both of your projects. Even more people will stop watching Walker, and this SPN prequel will never get picked up due to the scandal." So, the two "made nice" publicly to quell the chaos, but in my opinion, it's all too little too late. Jared started a storm that he can't contain now with a little tweet, and it seems like he knows that too because before he talked about him and Jensen making up, he asked that people "not send threats". He could have just as easily said that he shouldn't have made this a public issue and that he's sorry, but instead, he continued to play the victim and stoke the flames by alerting us all to the damage he's done.

Now, like I said before-- I used to give him the benefit of the doubt. I don't think he's an awful human or that he deserves to be attacked or anything, but he is an adult man with very poor judgment and an obvious selfish-streak a mile wide. He should know better, and he should have more respect for his so-called "friends" and "brothers" than to make them targets to public ridicule. I have a hard time believing that Jensen still sees Jared the way he used to, and I wouldn't blame him a bit for wanting to pull away-- especially when he's moving on to so many new and exciting things. Jared certainly deserves happiness just as much as anyone else, but he went on twitter and basically asked for a scandal, and he got one.

The question is now-- was there a motive behind it? Was just looking for a reason to bring his and Jensen's falling out to light-- while making himself looking like the victim in the process? Or did he genuinely not know about the prequel and just decided to go about "not knowing" in the most toxic and hurtful way he could manage?

In any case, that is the drama ... that is the J2 insanity in a rather lengthy nutshell ... that is the tea ... and I hope it all makes sense.

But the good news out of all of this is, Cockles is thriving-- they are happy and in love and Jensen calls Misha "Babe" and Misha misses waking up to see Jensen in the morning, and they are just as cute and wonderful as can be.

So, I will end that there. I am so glad to see you back, and I hope I answered all your questions in a way that made sense ... I tried anyway!

💖💖💖

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Take-Out Intrigue Part 2

Part One | Part Two 

Marko x Reader

Word Count: 2,524

Summary: A requested continuation of this idea. Reader runs into Marko a few weeks later and is convinced to go on a late night rendezvous. 

There were few moments in life as sweet as when you had just finished a shift.

You got along with your co-workers and the owners were good to you. The job itself wasn’t too bad outside of the occasional snotty customer. But after being on your feet, your body was grateful to go home and just sit.

“Be careful, huh? They still haven’t found that guy,” your boss cautioned as she locked up behind the both of you.

That gave you pause.

Two weeks ago, the cops had come in on official business. Yet another missing person’s case in Santa Carla except this time, the last any one had seen of the victim was outside the restaurant. There were no leads which had the workers spooked, especially since it happened nearby.

Some insisted that he had been in an accident, that he would turn up sooner or later. Others maintained that he must be a criminal himself—why else would’ve he been out so late? 

And a third group of co-workers were bold enough to come out and say he was probably long dead, the victim of a killer. You agreed with them. 

Whatever the case, everyone was more cautious when leaving after the late shift.

Most of your shifts were still in the day but after seeing that beautiful boy on a random nightshift you’d taken on a whim and started signing up for more in hopes of seeing him again. He hadn’t come back yet.

You reassured her as you zipped up your jacket. “Thank you, auntie. I promise to be careful.”

Passing a critical eye over you, she started chiding you about dressing smarter—what kind of fool wore a nylon jacket in these temperatures. You took it without complaint, knowing the nagging was how she showed that she cared.

Her husband, the other owner, was already waiting in their car and the last thing she told you as she got in was, “There’s eight in that bag. Share with everyone at home.”

You held the bag containing a pile of smooth, fluffy buns reverently against your chest.

It wasn’t often that she brought food from home to give to employees but when she did, it was always delicious. The bao was a big favorite of yours.

“Thank you. I will,” you said with a dip of your head.

They drove off and you head down to your own car. Alone on the sidewalk, you juggled everything in your arms to fish out your keys, taking great care not to squish the bao. It was a particularly quiet that night which put you on guard, your eyes darting around trying to peer into the darkness.

Every shadow was suspicious, the corners of buildings a potential hiding spot for a psycho laying in wait. There was also an alleyway you had to pass by that made you extra wary. You darted past it, careful to keep it in your line of limited vision.

Santa Carla was a shifty town, especially after dark, and you’d rather be paranoid instead of caught off guard.

The jingle of your car keys was almost obvious disrupter in the otherwise silent street as you unlocked the car. Your textbooks were demoted to the floor of the passenger seat, the bag of bao riding shot gun in the actual seat. 

For a spilt second, you thought about buckling it in but quickly dismissed it; the seat belt could crush them.

You slammed the door shut when you felt it. A cold shudder on the back of your neck. The kind of anxious realization that you were being watched.

Your head swiveled this way and that, trying to find the source of your unease but the darkness too much of a handicap. It was times like this when you were reminded just how badly lit the street was.

There were no detectible sounds either. You strained to pick up the slightest movement and only heard the rush of adrenaline in your ears.

Desperate to keep your wits about you, you took a deep breath and walked as calmly as you could to the driver’s side. You gripped the car keys tightly, in case you needed to stab someone, ignoring the tremors in your hands. Nothing happened, yet the feeling of being watched remained and you hoped that it’d be okay once you got in the car.

You reached for the handle and thought you were safe when it intensified. There was no warning before a cold hand rested on your hip, the chill cutting through your jacket.

You screamed with everything in you and whirled around, arm poised to gouge out the creep’s eyes.

The other person effortlessly batted your attack away and you recognized belatedly that those distinct curls were familiar. The fight drained out of you with one big gasp of air. “You.”

He smiled excitedly, like he hadn’t just scared the shit out of you. He spun your keys, the key ring looped around his finger. You didn’t remember them leaving your hold.

“Nice jab,” he complimented.

“Yeah,” you stammered, hand over your pounding heart. It was eerie how he snuck up on you like that, even when you were on full guard.

“You didn’t hesitate.” The spinning stopped and he offered you the keys. He leaned in close stopping just shy of invading your personal space. “You have a fighter’s instinct.”

“Only when people sneak up on me.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry about that.”

His voice was perfectly sincere but your intuition didn’t trust him. It told you that he had liked scaring you.

The customer was just how you remembered him from the one time you took his order. Patched jacket and leather chaps and a cherubic face. The flawless face was a harsh reminder that you hadn’t been able to land a single scratch on him.

“We didn’t introduce ourselves last time,” you frowned. “What’s your name?”

He bit his thumb, the paleness of it standing in stark contrast with the dark leather of his fingerless glove even in the dim light. “Marko.” Hmm. It suited him, you decided. “And you’re Y/N.

You stood up a little straighter, uneasy. You were sure that you hadn’t said your name last time—you never introduced yourself to customers.

Once again, he stole the words out of your mouth. “It was on the name tag.”

Oh. You’d forgotten about the raised rectangular underneath your jacket. The name tag. “Sorry. I’m still a little spooked from what just happened.”

“Never took you for a screamer,” he teased. Heat exploded in your face and the night hid how he focused on the small bird shaped pin on the lapel of your jacket.  

He was more mischievous and you wished for the ease of conversation from his other visit. Was this truer to his actual personality? Normally, you’d wouldn’t have minded either way but you couldn’t ignore the weirdness of this encounter.

Your goal was to leave as soon as possible. Either he didn’t pick up on that, or he did and just didn’t care because next thing you knew, he was inviting you to hang out at a park a couple of blocks away. And he didn’t mean tomorrow or next week, he meant right then.

Your resistance was instinctive and the excuse that you needed to go home and get some sleep was both a truth and a lie.

He crowded you against the car, finally crossing into your personal space. You made the mistake of glancing into his eyes and found you couldn’t turn away. The longer you looked, the more you swore that a predatory yellow glowed from his irises.

Human eyes didn’t even come in that color! You were going crazy.

“I think you should come.” His soft tone didn’t match the determined posture. “You’ll have fun.”

You struggled internally but he started to sound reasonable. Forget the fact that this was something you knew better than to do. You really wanted to keep talking with him and an inner voice reminded you that you had been waiting for him to return…This was your chance.

“Okay,” you smiled. The previous reservations evaporated from your mind and all you could think about was the excitement.  

The two of you drove to the park, him on his motorcycle and you in your car. All of the benches empty and ready for the taking. There a few by the basketball courts and there were tons of streetlights in that direction so you went there.

Sitting down, you were finally able to see him clearly. The park used white bulbs in their lights which was an upgrade from the orange ones lining the streets.

“Here.” You handed him one of the buns that you brought with from the car. “It’s char siu bao.”

He lit up. “Whoa! I didn’t know you guys sold this. Is it a secret menu item?”

You laughed, spitting out mashed-up bits of food. Still chuckling, you made sure to swallow and then answered. “Nope, there’s not a secret menu. Not one that I know about any way. Sometimes the owners bring in food to share with us and they made bao this time.”

The first bite had him moaning obscenely. The rest of it was scarfed down quickly and he patted his stomach appreciatively, his cut-off tank riding up to expose more of his skin.

“Damn. That was orgasm by BBQ pork bun. Your angel for giving me some.”

For the second time that night, heat spread across your face and you kept your eyes trained away. His boldness was flattering. How could you have been scared of him earlier? It seemed ridiculous right then.

“So,” he continued, “I couldn’t help but notice the eyesore hanging from your rear-view mirror.”

“It’s not an eyesore. It took me a whole week to make that.”

That impressed him. “Really. You make a lot of things yourself?”

It launched a whole conversation about your latest creative projects. What kind of materials you liked to work with, where you got your supplies, and if you would show them to him sometime.

Marko talked about his as well. He mostly dabbled in clothing projects, like his jacket, and painting although he worked with shells and wood a lot, too. If the extraordinary patch work on the jacket was any indicator, he was seriously talented.

Sensing an opportunity, you proposed that you would show him your stuff, only if he showed you his.

“You’ll have to be specific what of mine you want to see,” he said with a wink.

“The projects, Marko. I mean the projects,” you sassed. It was becoming easier to respond to his quips.

He gestured further down where some patches of spray paint were visible on the concrete ground. “I can show you some now, if you want.”

Your brows shot up. He did say he did all kinds of painting, but he spray painted too? Curious, you didn’t wait for him as you went to go take a peek.

People tagged all over Santa Carla these days, normally on buildings or signs. Never had you seen it left up in a public park and on the ground, no less. A lot of residents complained about what they saw as trashy graffiti, but you thought that was a conservative view. Some it was actually quite good, the talent of the artists undeniable.

The five slabs of park sidewalk examples of good pieces. There were styles that differed from bubbly word font to intricate cartoon characters and it was apparent that many people had worked on this.

You examined them critically, trying to find which was Marko’s based on your limited knowledge.

The bubbly font was too soft for him. The animated turtle with a bandana and nun-chucks, certainly a comic book figure, didn’t seem like him either. Then you spotted a stylized skull with a bird placed in each eye socket, an aggressively written ‘anarchy’ running down the side length of it.

The pin was a reminder on your chest and you knew that it was his.

“Aww, how’d you guess?”

“A little birdy told me,” you said, softly touching the image. What really stood out was the high-level shading he incorporated. The cheeks appeared wicked sharp and the eye sockets had realistic depth to them. You couldn’t believe he managed those techniques with simply spray paint.

Marko crouched in front of you, watching you intently. Your scent and admiration irresistible to him.  

Neither of you spoke as he leaned ever closer. Unlike earlier, the quiet wasn’t scary and you felt anticipation. Right at the moment he his lips would’ve touched yours, there was a big rustle in the bushes to your left.

Both of you froze. You in alarm and Marko in annoyance.

Next thing you knew, another blonde rolled out from the foliage and bowled Marko over. The curly haired boy was quick to shove the other off of him and you were sure what was happening.

Until the new comer with his fluffed hair patted Marko affectionately on the shoulder, the chain attached to his black coat clinking. That was a familiar touch. “Marko!”

“Get your fat ass off me, Paul” he grumbled.

Paul dusted himself off and peered behind at his butt “I knew these pants looked good on me.”

Marko wasn’t having it. “Yeah, yeah. Why are you here?”

“You abandoned me, bud. I was gunna see if you wanted to feed but looks like you’re already occupied.” He turned his brilliant smile towards you and all you managed was wave awkwardly.

“This is Y/N,” Marko explained. “We were just talking.”

“Sure,” Paul said dragging out the r and flagrantly winking. Yikes, he would’ve gotten a show if he had waited a second more to reveal himself.

“Well now that you barged in, I suppose we should meet back up with the other two.”

Paul nodded and ran off into the darkness without any further explanation.

You stood up as well trying to salvage your dignity. Despite moving in for a kiss minutes ago, Marko didn’t try again. He walked backwards in the same direction Paul had left in, wearing his signature smirk.

“I’ll stop by for take-out soon. Surprise me with something yummy.” With one last cheeky wave, he jogged away.

At the moment he disappeared, it was as if a fog had cleared. All of your alarms came rushing back. You must be crazy for having agreed to come to the park!

Who in their right mind went somewhere with a stranger in the dead of night with a killer on the lose?

Were you that weak for a pretty face that all it took was them asking you nicely? Yes, your time with him hadn’t been horrible, actually, you enjoyed it, but something still wasn’t right.

You trudged to your car, kicking yourself. If he came to the restaurant like he claimed, you’d have to put your foot down more. Stupid decisions got people killed in Santa Carla and you were determined not to be another missing person.

Even for a face like Marko’s.

_______________

Bao is so so good! I can’t tell if I have a good handle on writing Marko yet. Yes, the missing person is the one he offed last time and yes, he did use mind powers on the reader here. 

Thanks for reading :)

[underfell-crystal]

~~Cetaphobia~~

Written for @kiokodoodles mermaid pirate AU! This one-shot will cover Harp's life from right before she got attacked by the orca mermaid to when she met Alkai.

TW: Blood, gore, injury, assault, being chased

'Don't stray too far from the island'

It was a simple rule, and one that had good reason behind it. There always seemed to be danger lurking around Seal Island, as Harp's home was creatively named. Harp was careful to follow that rule whenever she wanted to break off from her family while they were out searching for food.

But that was before Otaria and Mother had fallen ill. Father had to tend to Mother and Otaria, so that only left her and Hali. Hali was on the other side of the island where there were the most fish. Harp didn't mind. She knew she was quite absent-minded at times, and her sister was faster than her. Harp looked around, sighing. There were hardly any fish due to the currents this time of year.

Harp continued making slow patrols on the southern side of the island, her disappointment and frustration growing as several passes yielded hardly any fish. She only had two fish in her satchel, and it was making her anxious. What if Mother and Otaria didn't eat enough? She didn't want to think about that.

There.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move. She turned her head and her excitement skyrocketed as she saw several fish disappear into the distance. Harp gave chase.

.

.

.

Gosh, why were fish so fast?! She'd only caught two more out of.... at least a hundred. It was frustrating, but at least she HAD a food source for tonight's dinner. She lunged again, snagging a third fish from the group, making it five in total. She bit the fish just below its head, making it stop struggling. She added it to her bag and turned- then paused. Something big was moving in the distance. Perhaps a larger school of fish? She swam closer, curious. Twenty feet later, she stopped swimming forward. There it was, fifty feet away.

It wasn't a school of fish. It was a half human, half..... half....

'Black and white, Harp. Remember that. If you see those colors, you swim away as fast as you can.'

Half orca. Harp gulped. Both of her parents had told her about how dangerous orcas were on their own, but this one was even smarter. It had a human brain.

It was just... floating there. Staring at her. Watching. Was it hungry? Stars she hoped it wasn't hungry. But just in case..... With slow, trembling fingers, she opened her bag and pulled a fish out, tossing it to the side. The orca mermaid didn't react, just kept staring at her with a creepy, too-wide grin. Maybe if she went slow....?

She slowly started to swim backward, but a moment later, the orca mermaid moved. It was FAST. Harp gasped and turned, swimming as fast as she could back to the island, but she knew she wasn't fast enough.

She knew he was getting close. All the fish had vanished. The island was still so far away-

Her back suddenly exploded in pain, and she let out a strangled scream as the water turned red around her.

Stars, it hurt. Her vision was spinning and white at the edges, and every movement sent waves of pain down her spine. She did her best to keep moving, but it hurt so much. She saw something big and dark coming at her from below, and she wasn't fast enough to move out of the way.

Teeth clamped down on her back and tail, piercing the skin easily. She didn't think it could hurt any worse. She was wrong. Her vision went completely white, and she let out a scream she didn't even know she could make. Her hands scrabbled at the orca's head, and she dimly remembered that eyes were generally weak spots for animals. She raised her hand, and with a scream of pain, she slammed her hand into the orca's eye, her nails tearing skin and cartilage. The orca was stunned and in pain, loosening his grip on Harp's tail just a bit.

Harp seized the chance to plant her hands against his snout and shove, his sharp teeth tearing through the skin on her back down to her tail- but she was freed. She didn't waste a moment. She took off toward the island and could sense the orca coming after her, making her panic spike. She had to hide! She had to get away! She remembered the strange hole in the side of the southern part of the island- mostly covered by rocks- that she'd never explored. She could only pray to the stars that the orca wouldn't be able to fit.

Her dark eyes scanned the shore frantically until they locked on a dark hole- indeed, mostly covered by large rocks. She took a deep breath and dove down, squeezing past the rocks and going deeper into the cave. The cave narrowed as she went, which relieved her immensely. He wouldn't be able to fit down here even in his human form.

Harp spared a glance backward and saw a single black, beady, hunger-filled eye staring back at her. A moment later, the opening cleared. Did he think she was stupid? She wasn't falling for that!

The water slowly grew red around her. She whimpered and hugged herself.

.

.

.

'It was a very close call', her Father murmured as he applied a green paste to the cuts on her back. 'You're not allowed out there alone ever again.'

Harp was fine with that. More than fine with that. But she wasn't fine with how achy and sore her body was. The green paste helped a lot, but the cuts still stung and it was still difficult to move. She still saw that spotted pattern and beady black eye whenever she closed her eyes. Mother, Otaria, and Hali were resting- Hali had exhausted herself chasing down food. Harp flinched as a spike of pain shot up her spine, and her father murmured an apology, rubbing the skin next to the cuts. 'Be strong, little one. You are a survivor. Remember that.'

Harp sniffed and nodded, finally allowing tears to gather in her eyes, turning and burying her face in her father's plain white tunic. She didn't want to go hunting ever again.

.

.

.

The journey to their new home was long. It took over a week to get there. Father smiled and told them 'It'll be worth it. I promise.'

.

.

.

She still had nightmares that she'd wake up screaming to, certain that orca had come back to finish her off. She couldn't go back to sleep after that.

.

.

.

Their home was quiet. Too quiet. There weren't as many souls there as there should've been. But... That was okay. She still had Hali and Father.

.

.

.

Hali was screaming, something metal embedded in her tail. Father was trying to pull her back, but whatever the metal thing was attached to was way stronger. Well, actually, she knew what the metal thing was attached to. A boat.

Hali and Father disappeared above the surface.

.

.

.

There was nothing left for her here. Her family was gone. The nightmares remained. She knew her mother and father had left a chest of keepsakes back at their old island. She had to find it. It was all she had of their once happy family.

.

.

.

Hunting was still hard. The constant paranoia about orcas lurking around made her so hungry. Hungry enough that she became desperate and snuck onto a passing human ship. She was certain she'd be found and killed. She hugged her coat close, reaching for the crate of vegetables.

.

.

.

There was somebody odd on the ship. They weren't human, Harp knew that much. They looked human, sure- but they smelled like.... something else. She didn't know what it was. They had pretty brown hair and an affinity for shiny things. They looked surprised to see her- like she'd caught them doing something wrong. Were they... not supposed to be holding all that gold?

A shout of anger made her startle, and she ran to the deck and leapt off, changing back into her seal form and swimming away with her precious cargo.

.

.

.

She kept running into that person. Always on different ships. Always looking for gold and jewels.

.

.

.

"I'm not sharing any of my gold with you."

The brown haired person looked irritated. Harp nodded. "I know. I don't.... want... the treasure. I.... wanna be friends."

They stared at her. "Uh....... no."

Harp frowned slightly. "Why?"

"Nunya."

"What's.... What's Nunya?"

"Nunya business."

Harp blinked at them. "What's business?"

They stared at her. "...... Oh you're serious??"

"Um.... why wouldn't I be?"

They pinched the bridge of their nose. "Look, lady-"

"Harp."

"Huh?"

"My name. It's.... It's Harp. What's your name?"

They turned away from her. "Pat."

Harp frowned again. "Pat..... Anyway, um.... Why are you pretending to be a human?"

They froze. Slowly turned and looked at her. "What."

"I-I mean, you're obviously not a human... So.... why-"

They were suddenly directly in front of her. Harp yelped and stumbled back as they loomed over her. "How."

"H.... How what....?"

"How. Did. You. Know."

Harp gulped. "Um....."

"Don't lie to me."

Harp watched their hand drift to the scabbard at their side. She looked up at them with wide eyes. "I-"

Their hand was on her shoulder, touching her coat-

She jerked away. "Don't touch me!"

They stared at her for a moment before scoffing and turning away. "Get lost. I don't have time for this."

Harp obliged, scampering out of the room, heart pounding in her chest.

.

.

.

Another ship. Someone was tied to the mast- Pat. Their head was bowed, which made her approach easier. She climbed up the side of the ship, changing into her human form and throwing on her damp dress. She saw a dagger laying on a barrel and grabbed it, wasting no time in hacking at the ropes.

Their head shot upright, and they twisted to get a good look at what was happening. They made eye contact with Harp, gaze widening in recognition. "It's.... you... What are you doing here?"

"Saving you."

The ropes fell away, and they turned to stare at her in disbelief. Harp fidgeted in place. "Um...."

There was a shout from the other side of the ship. "OI!! GET BACK HERE!!"

They both turned and saw one of the crew members standing there, looking furious. Harp and Pat looked at each other and bolted for the railing, leaping over and plunging into the water together.

.

.

.

"Alkai."

Harp sat up and looked at her friend. "Huh?"

They gave her a small smile. "Alkai. That's my real name. Nice to meet you."

(Alkai belongs to @mochamashi )

[fandomsnfluff]

Could I request something with Solomon,Belphie,Satan and Mc? The new story in the event was adorable! ( if that’s too many characters feel free to make any changes, and I don’t really mind whichever scenario <3)

OMG UR SO RIGHT 😭 THE NEW STORY WAS SO FUCKING CUTE I LOVE THIS PROMPT AAAA

twister! (solomon, belphie, satan, & mc)

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

As it turns out, the Devildom had many of its own versions of food and other amenities in the human world. You weren't particularly surprised by this, but figuring out what was familiar to you and not familiar to you proved to be generally pleasant, in some circumstances unpleasant, but usually just surprising.

What came as the biggest surprise to you was that there was, indeed, a Devildom version of the game Twister. It was actually called Devil’s Twist!, but the rules were practically identical to those of Twister. You found this out when Solomon invited you to play a game of it, along with Satan and Belphie, since they happened to be hanging out in the study together when the old sorcerer brought up his idea. Upon arriving, you learned exactly what your suspicions were telling you; it was basically an exact replica of the Twister that you were so fond of. You had memories playing this game with your human world friends as a child, and you were more than happy to indulge in these nostalgic desires with new friends.

As the four of you were getting set up, even more fond memories, but more recently, ran through your mind as you recalled the creative activities you set up with the Little D clones in this very room to try and burn off their energy. Satisfied with the fun they had had, they disappeared, leaving the four of you equally as satisfied but a bit sad that the bratty yet cute young demons had to disappear so soon. You fondly recalled painting along each other’s feet so you could join in the fun, and you smirked to yourself as you recalled their funny reactions to being painted on; it was no secret that they were all indeed very ticklish.

Then you smirked, hoping that they couldn’t see you; that gave you a perfect idea of how to mess with them in the middle of the game. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too mad; after all, it was you, and your were more than happy to bask in their rather gentle treatment of you.

Since the four of you were the only ones in the house, one of you had to reach over and spin the dial to the best of your ability; Solomon was the first one to volunteer, and to make sure it went smooth, his turn was last.

You were the first one up. Right hand on red was your first order, and you placed it on the corner; you were lucky since the red side was facing you. Next up was Satan, whose left foot had to go on green, and finally Belphie’s was left hand on yellow.

Then, when Solomon spun for his first turn, the spinner landed on left foot on red. He smirked at you before reaching over the whole mat to land his foot on the spot right next to where your hand was.

Oh, so that was how he wanted to play it. Luckily for you, you had a trick up your sleeve, and it seemed likely that he would be your first victim.

Since Solomon was no longer facing the board, Satan decided to give the next spin; left foot on blue. It was your turn. You easily swung your body to the side so you could plant your foot on one of the blue spots, the row being easily accessible since it was so close to the red row where your hand was. Solomon’s leg was now pressing into the side of your shoulder; now, more likely than ever, seemed that the sorcerer would be the easiest first target.

Satan’s next turn was relatively easy: right foot on yellow, and Belphie followed with a right foot on blue. The two demon brothers had made a smart move by deciding to move away from each other; Belphie was easily able to swing his body around Satan’s without colliding with his brother as he planted his foot on the blue dot.

Solomon’s next turn was right hand on red, and this put him at the perfect position for your impending attack. He reached over your body so his chest was leaning against your hip, exposing his entire torso to your left hand that had yet to be placed. Belphie let out an amused snort, and as Satan leaned down to spin for your next turn, he commented, “Getting a bit feisty over there already, huh?”

You and Solomon could only laugh. To your relief, your next move was right foot on red. You positioned your foot next to your left so you were now practically sitting upright, your right hand and two feet both planted on the dots on the mat. As Satan spun for his turn, you figured that this was the perfect time to strike. After all, your left hand was free, and it had yet to be designated a position. Smirking to yourself, you reached up and gave Solomon’s side a bit of a tweak, right where his ribs gave way to the soft fleshy part of his waist.

The sorcerer let out a surprised squeak at the sudden contact, and his body lurched away from your prying fingers. You tried to hold back a snort of amusement at his reaction, and judging by the sudden shuffling, you guessed that the brothers heard (and maybe saw) what was up. “MC, don’t do that, that’s cheating,” Belphie commented, but you could hear the laughter in his voice.

But you didn’t plan to stop there just yet. As Belphie was getting set up for his turn, you struck again, this time really pressing in and squeezing at the soft parts of Solomon’s side. He let out a squeal at the contact, and he began to try and squirm away from you, as best he could without losing his position. But you were pretty merciless; the second your fingers found his underarm, it all came crashing down (literally). The sorcerer fell over on top of you, crushing your hand under his armpit to try and halt the sensation, but you still didn’t stop. You continued to playfully tickle him until he was cackling, rolled up in a ball next to you on top of the mat.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Satan told you both, trying his best to sound annoyed, but you could tell that he was at least somewhat amused. “We’ll start another round now.”

You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself as you stood up, offering to be the spinner for the next round. Solomon glared at you as he took his spot on the opposite side of the mat, keeping his distance from you and your tickly fingers. You smirked at him, raising your eyebrows, and he just rolled his eyes before looking away.

As the four of you progressed through the second round, you found yourself becoming quite closely bound with Satan this time. Except he wasn’t quite literally curled around you like Solomon; he had his right foot on yellow while his other foot was on blue, and his two hands were stretched almost all the way to the other end of the mat, on a green and blue dot. You were at the leg end of him, your hands on red and blue dots, and seeing his leg outstretched like that behind him jogged a piece of your memory; the blonde was ridiculously sensitive on his knees. You were in the perfect position to strike. As Solomon was working out his turn, you reached over and lightly scribbled your finger along the back of his knee.

The reaction was instantaneous; Satan didn’t hesitate to completely drop onto his knees, letting out a full-on shriek of alarm. You were about to call out some words of encouragement to him until you realized that he had already lost; his feet had completely come off of the circles that they were on. “Dammit! I should have known you were gonna do that!” he hissed.

“Come on, MC, no more of that,” Solomon reminded you as you all stood up to start a third round. “That’s cheating.”

“But it’s fun,” you responded.

“No more! If you do it again I might just have to punish you. And it won’t be pleasant.”

Part of you wanted to roll your eyes at him, but deep down you knew what he was planning. Then you realized you still had to mess with Belphie, and you shrugged your shoulders and told yourself, fuck it. You had one more target, and if it meant seeing the youngest demon smirk and laugh alongside you, then it’ll surely be worth it.

However, the third round didn’t go quite as you expected. Satan and Solomon both started on one side of the mat, the one opposite of where you were positioned. Quickly, both of them had managed too twist some limb around some part of your body, leaving Belphie out of your reach.

The saving move came when you had to move your right hand from yellow to blue. This closed your exposed chest from either of the sneaky boys crowding you, who may have used that opening to get at your neck or even your armpits. In fact, the new move brought you even closer to Belphie. He was positioned diagonally with his hands on yellow and green, and both of his feet were on blue dots.

Satan took his turn after you, and before you could reach forward and attack Belphie, it was as if he had read your mind and warned you with a verbal, “Don’t.”

You decided to hesitate for a bit, but maybe you waited a bit too long. Belphie’s next move was left foot on yellow, so he pivoted away from you so his body was now parallel with the mat. You had to hide a scoff. But it was your turn next.

The pointer landed on left foot on red, so you stood up to stretch your leg all the way over to the opposite side of the mat. This was a much more comfortable position, but this moved you a bit closer to Belphie. However, he was in a position where his eyes were completely on you, and despite his sleepy nature, it looked as if his gaze were going to stay locked on you to avoid any moves that you were planning to make.

Satan and Solomon made their moves, and it seemed like they were more likely to become tangled with each other than with you, so you decided on moving towards Belphie. His next move was right foot on red, which made him have to move closer to you. Luckily, your next move was right hand on yellow, which put you pretty much up under his chest. You decided to strike again; Belphie wasn’t flexible enough to straighten up so he could get a clear view of you underneath him. As Satan made his next move, you reached your hand up to playfully pinch at the demon���s stomach.

Belphie squealed and began to squirm, attempting to choke his laughter back as you mercilessly tickled him. This one was a lot craftier, and he had attempted to move away from you more often than the others, so you figured it was only fair that you pushed his buttons a little more than the others. You decided to scribble against his sides a bit, but the moment you dug your fingers between his ribs, he came crashing down on top of you.

“MC!” Solomon called. “Do you actually want to play this game, or are you keen on continuing to mess it up for the rest of us?”

You were much too busy tickling Belphie to respond to him. Even though he was practically lying on top of you, you had mapped out his whole torso and were now digging into his armpits, enjoying the squeaky, panicked laughter erupting from his chest. Weakened from the laughter and the squirming, you were able to push him off of you, but when you turned around, you were crowded by an angry demon and an annoyed sorcerer.

“You wanna keep ruining the game for the rest of us?” Satan hissed.

“I thought you liked playing fair,” Solomon added, cracking his knuckles. “Guess not.”

It was as if Belphie guessed what was going on, for he had sat up and wrapped his arms under yours, holding you in place. “You know what you want to do,” the seventh-born drawled, but he wasn’t talking to you. Satan and Solomon exchanged glances, smirking.

Dread filled your whole body, and you (almost) began to regret disrupting the game so many times. “G-Guys...?” you said in a small voice.

But you didn’t have time to protest. For the umpteenth time that day, the whole room was filled with laughter.

[armysantiny]

Ateez Headcanon; Their s/o is a fantasy nerd.

Pairing: Ot8 x gender neutral reader

Genre: fluff, fantasy (kinda), headcanon

Includes: movies, tv shows, merch, movie nights, playthroughs, gifts,

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: n/a

Rating: PG

Networks: @kwritersworld​, @kdiarynet​, @kpopscape​, @ultkpopnetwork​, @kpopcontentcreatorsclub​, @k-dinernet​, @lovesick-net​, @whipped-kpop-creators​, @kafenetwork​, @8makes1teamnet​, @ateezlovenet​

Taglist: @teeztheflag​ | Taglist form

An: I had so much fun writing this! Members under the cut!

홍중 (Hongjoong)

Literally so invested

When he sees the sparkle in your eyes as you explain the lore, his heart is doing flips I tell you.

How hadn’t you told him sooner?

Doesn’t say a word while you talk, only going “Mhm~” with stars in his eyes.

If it’s a videogame, or a roleplaying game like D&D, he will practically beg you to give him a crash course in what to do.

“Are you sure you want to learn how to do this Joongie?”

“Mhm! I wanna learn, it looks fun! Just teach me the basics for now~”

Supportive boyfriend right here.

Will look up playthroughs and explanations of the lore in his own time to get a better understanding.

If he knows a little more, than it can be something the both of you enjoy!

If it’s a franchise like LoTR or something similar, he’ll definitely put the movies on when it’s movie night.

Cue Joong asking you about your favourite and least favourite parts about the franchise.

If there are any spin-off titles, he’ll ask if you recommend watching them too.

May end up becoming a fantasy nerd himself.

Makes you little memorabilia whenever he can.

Honestly loves how large your imagination must be for you to be into fantasy.

성화 (Seonghwa)

He kinda just goes “Woah...” at first.

You think he doesn’t like it; he was sitting there more or less speechless.

When he sees your dejected face, Hwa panics.

Because he does like it, he’s just surprised he hadn’t caught on sooner.

Reassures you that he is interested, and pokes at you to continue talking about it.

Cue several cute interested Hwa sounds

Asks if you have any merch you wanna show him.

He hasn’t told you, but he’s started looking into the franchise for himself.

Might not end up being his taste, but he still keeps a small interest in it.

It was something you were interested in after all.

Chuckles to himself when he sees you really into the series.

Something about you excited about the fantasy franchise you were into was endearing.

Always lends an ear to your theories and headcanons

You surprise him-

He swears you’ve just described an entirely new novel to him.

The headcanon is just that detailed.

Definitely encourages you to try creative writing/design courses to see if you could take your interests further

Asks if you want to create your own fantasy series.

Supportive boyfriend #2 over here~

As long as you’re happy, he’s happy.

윤호 (Yunho)

He’s honestly more excited than you are to be honest

Bounces like a child when you describe the lore to him.

If the stars in his eyes could get any brighter, they would. He is literally the pleading eyes emoji

You mention that you’ve created original characters inspired by the franchise, and he almost pounces on you with even more questions.

Will ask if you’ve created a character based off of himself.

Which you have, and when you show him, he gets even more excited - if that’s even possible.

Will ask you to explain the character’s entire backstory.

Falls in love with you even more - if he even can at that point.

Finds every way possible to have you talk about any and everything fantasy related.

Calls you in the middle of the night to listen to you ramble about your latest character design.

Tells all the members that you’ve created a character about him and boasts about it for months.

You might have another fantasy nerd on your hands now.

여상 (Yeosang)

Kind of a fantasy nerd himself.

So, when you reveal that you’re into fantasy, he kinda goes “Oh? Me too!”

Excited giggles from both of you

Cue fantasy themed date nights...you cuties

Curled up in a blanket together with a load of snacks, watching your favourite movies together.

Oh god the theory discussions you two have.

Now you two can call each other at God forbidden times of the night and talk about your favourite series. 

Since he’s the only one who knows, he’s glad only he gets to see that excited grin on your face when you talk about the show.

Low-key starts boasting about it too.

Like, only he can see you when you’re this cute, you know?

You’d take his drones away if he told any of the boys about your fantasy shows, so it becomes your shared little secret~

Buys you cosplay pieces so you can dress up as your favourite character.

Compliments you for days.

Literally so pretty :(

Takes a thousand pictures (Yes, he keeps a set as his background)

He’s already dressed up as Harley Quinn, so he’s more than happy to dress up as one of the major ships.

Especially if it’s your favourite ship too.

Conventions! Omg you’d go to as many conventions as you could together.

Couple goals~

Singing to soundtracks together as you get ready.

Definitely uses it as a way to tease you.

Sees you having a fan moment over a character and pretends to get all pouty.

“Your boyfriend’s right here, but you’re only focusing on them? Fine then...”

Laughs when he sees the blush on your face

Of course, he gets the same treatment from you.

Healthy relationships, we love to see it. Now where do I get this?

산 (San)

Cannot control the absolute look of admiration in his face at all.

Looks at you with all the wonder in the world. His eyes’ sparkle :(

It may sound a little confusing at first to him, but hearing you describe it with so much passion warms his heart.

Asks you to take the plot step-by-step, so he can understand it a little better

Watches some of it when he can, and he can definitely see the appeal

Interesting characters, an entirely different world, no wonder you love it so much.

He has his games, and you already knew about them, so he’s happy he knows about you more, ‘hidden’ interests.

When he heard you ask him not to find it weird after you’re caught having a fan moment, he pouts immediately.

Why would he find it weird that you were a fan of something? He was quite the fanboy himself, after all

Spends a considerable amount of time reassuring you that he doesn’t find your interests or you weird.

No one is feeling insecure about liking a franchise that makes them happy on his watch.

Buys you merch as soon as it releases.

Little excited claps when he sees your reaction.

It soon becomes your favourite merch item and he’s so proud.

Sees you wearing it literally wherever you can

When you invite him to have a movie marathon with you after he finishes his schedule, San swears he’s head over heels because he agrees without hesitation.

No second thought required

Be prepares to have several more marathons while he asks a million questions at once.

Might have to create a PowerPoint for this cutie. 

민기 (Mingi)

Honestly, he’s kinda lost at first

You kinda have to tell him again and he goes “Oh...I get it!”

Does not get it.

A bit like San, a presentation may be needed at some point.

When he kinda gets it, this baby gets really excited, but he’s almost a little sad.

Because you didn’t tell him until now, you know?

Asks you about the entire main cast, and your favourite character.

Finds you watching your show and quietly sits beside you

He wants to try and understand the plot for himself.

Gets so engrossed, his eyes turn into the pleading eye emoji

He’s so cute, I swear-

Honestly, Mingi finds it so cool that you enjoy fantasy.

“Y/n, can we watch it together from now on? I really like it!”

Yeah, you might end up marrying that man right there and then.

Starts asking you to introduce him to other shows you like that you think he might like as well.

Ends up with a full list and starts watching them all.

I mean all of them

Hell, I think you’ll turn him into a fantasy nerd as well.

Borrows one of your merch hoodies and wears it around the house.

It’s his now :(

Please, he looks so small

You end up buying him a matching hoodie

Refuses to take it off unless he has to.

Listens to all of your fan ravings

Learns about all of your favourite ships.

High-key starts analysing them with you

Yep- you’ve got a fantasy nerd on your hands now, enjoy!

우영 (Wooyoung)

Okay, excited child alert

Another one who literally bounces when you tell him. Gives you puppy eyes for days.

Why didn’t you tell him sooner?

Bugs you constantly about the shows you like and your favourite character.

Which leads him to go on an internet deep-dive (Definitely on Twitter)

He enjoys cooking, so he finds a way to cook the food from the show.

And holy shit it tastes better than you imagined.

Once he sees your reaction, Wooyoung makes it his mission to surprise you with dishes from the show.

Late nights binging your favourite shows together is now a must.

Does kinda laugh a little too loud in your ear, but you’re used to it.

In all truth, you appreciate that he wants to watch it with you

He may be watching it with you, but he also loves seeing your reaction to what’s happening on screen

Please, he thinks you’re the cutest human on earth.

Maybe he takes a picture or two. Maybe

Finds really cute keepsakes from the show while he’s on tour and buys them for you

Takes a picture of them and send them to you with the caption, ‘Look what I got~’

You literally squeal and call him immediately

A proud smile on his face when he hears your voice

You’re rambling thank yous in every language you know and Wooyoung’s there on the other line giggling

Yeah, you’re being spoiled with merch from now on.

Precious baby :(

종호 (Jongho)

Probably has the most neutral response out of all the boys

Kinda just goes, “Oh, that’s cool, fantasy’s really interesting.”

Low-key sounds uninterested, but trust me, he is. Even if it’s just a tad.

Jongho strikes me as the type to not tell you that he’s learning about your favourite show.

You’ll be watching an episode and he walks in, “Oh, [character]’s pairing with [character] is really neat. They wrote them really well.”

“Huh..? How do you know..?”

You thought he wasn’t interested in the show and he giggles at your confusion.

Granted, he isn’t into the idea of fantasy as the others are, but if it’s what makes you happy, it wouldn’t hurt to learn a little about it.

Let’s you take him to conventions and helps you hold the bigger items you struggle with so you don’t drop everything.

Thinks you look amazing in full cosplay.

Lets you experiment on him from time to time.

You get him in some makeup, contacts and give him a prosthetic piece to put over his head.

He thinks he looks pretty good. Might consider trying it again sometime.

He’ll be shopping online and see something.

“Isn’t that from y/n’s favourite..?”

Buys it and surprises you the next time you have a date together.

“Oh? When did you get this? I love it”

“Ah, you know~ I was browsing and it reminded me of you.”

Ends up seeing you take it everywhere

Smiles to himself each time and refuses to tell you why.

Out of all the merch you own, you take the one he bought you with you everywhere

He’s touched.

Doesn’t always pay 100% attention when you’re watching tv together, but enough that he’s aware of the plot line, but not the finer details.

You may not have convinced him to be a fan, but you have turned your boyfriend into a casual watcher.

[narrans]

Everyone needs a little Hero | Rings and Memories

The apartment complex wasn’t the newest and had few features that could be identified as the “latest and greatest.” Sometimes there were problems with the water and sometimes the lights flickered at odd times of the day and night. Every so often, things would go missing or just get misplaced.

One thing this apartment complex did have, however, were stories. Each of its dozen floors held people from different places and backgrounds. Some people were thriving, others trying to make their way. Some were going through hardships and a few just need a friend – someone to talk to.

One other thing this place had among its labyrinth of walls and wires was a whole other world – a smaller world consisting of dozens of families. Some of them big, some of them small, but all of them little – these were the Borrowers.

The four-inch folk live in quiet solitude, surviving by taking what they need in pieces, parts, fragments, and segments. Rarely did something of significance go missing and, even then, it was the humans’ fault for being so clumsy.

There were rules for keeping themselves undiscovered by the humans and, for the most part, these rules were upheld. There were times where humans spread rumors or asked if there were mice and such in the building. Thankfully, the Borrowers had managed to steer clear of the exterminators and their traps.

It was one of their biggest fears – to be seen and caught by a human.

Hero grew up with two older brothers, an older sister, and a younger sister. He also had his parents, grandparents, and even a great-grandfather. His family had never immigrated, a rarity among their kind, and had always been careful. Subtly, the young Borrower with sandy brown hair and bright green eyes had always feared the humans, but also found them fascinating.

Humans were dangerous, yes, but were also ingenuitive and forward thinking. They had creativity and passion as well as the means to do so. Hero knew they had the ability to do horrendous things, but they also had the power to do good.

Every once in a while, he would venture through the walls and listen to the humans watching that big flat thing called a T.V. or a screen. They watched scary things, but the thing Hero was fascinated with was the show about villains and, like his name, heroes.

These heroes had powers and would fight against injustice, whatever that was, and the bad people hurting other people. Some could shoot lasers while others could fly. Some were strong. Some could use their hair. One thing that hero noticed about all of these people was that it didn’t matter who they were or what they looked like – they were all heroes.

Some of them, he noticed, didn’t even have powers. There was one boy who was drawn with green hair and cried a lot that talked about what it meant to be a hero – and somehow the young Borrower found this inspiring. He knew from that moment on he had to live up to his name.

Now, how he was going to go about this he wasn’t sure. He had only just had his thirteenth birthday and was three or so inches on a good day. Needless to say, height was going to be a slight issue, but it wouldn’t stop him. According to some people on a thing called the “inner-net,” you didn’t need to save lives or stop buildings from falling down to make a difference in someone’s life.

This is the notion that Hero clung to one night as he debated for the hundredth time with himself. He didn’t need to be big to make a difference. In fact, some guy by the name of “Gamdalf” said that it was the ordinary actions of small folk that made a difference.

It was settled – and Hero knew who he wanted to help first.

On the third floor, there was an elderly couple who loved each other very much. Hero liked going down and listening to them talk. They were hilarious, mostly because they were forgetful from time to time and would move things without telling the other.

“Where are my glasses?” asked the woman. “Well, I don’t know dear. They were on your head. Did you check there?” the man would respond, all the while wearing them on his head because he thought those were his glasses.

Hero could watch them for hours and be amused. There were a few times, accidentally, where he was laughing so hard that they stopped and looked up at the trim near the ceiling. “Those neighbor kids must think something’s pretty funny.” A handful of those comments made Hero well aware he needed to be careful even when they had a hard time remembering.

The final straw in his debate on helping them first in fact came from the saddest of events. The elderly man, on night, had fallen and went to some place for him to get better called a “hospital,” but that didn’t happen.

The woman came back so very sad and Hero wanted nothing more than to cheer her up. He had to come up with something, and he had to do it quickly as he began to hear rumors that she was immigrating and could see boxes being loaded up.

It was just after dinner and his siblings were out borrowing except for his younger sister Winnie, who was far too young to go borrowing being only six. Hero stood in his room with all of his necessary supplies laid on his bed.

He had a fishing hook, a safety pin, one band-aid, a pin, battery lamp with a new borrowed bulb, a piece of razor, and a strong line which he had checked a dozen times. There were a few moments where he paused to breathe, staring at his muddled reflection in a piece of tin foil he kept in his room.

“Heroes usually have some kind of outfit or a cape. Do I need a cape? I don’t know. Capes get in the way. What about a mask? Naw, that won’t work. It might get in my eyes. This is fine for now.” Hero puffed out his chest, grabbed his backpack of supplies, and headed out through the halls.

He made sure to wave to his grandparents as he ran past their hallway. His little legs carried him at a steady pace past the pipes to the wires he had to lay on to cross from one wall joist to the next. The drop was at least a floor and would certainly be a problem if he were to slip, but the wires were coated with rubber and were nice and thick. Hero had also learned the pro-tip from his oldest brother, Atlas, of hooking the safety pin from his backpack onto the line. Since it was strapped to him, it added an extra safety measure.

Hero slowed his jog to a brisk walk as everything began setting in for him. Was he ready for something like this? He was only 13 after all. He had been borrowing on his own, but this would be different in that now he was going to purposefully move something for the human to notice and become curious about.

Hero cupped his palms and smacked his face lightly to snap himself out of it. It wasn’t like he was going to be seen or anything. Plus, the elderly woman was forgetful. Even if he were seen, she would most likely forget. Right?

The labyrinth of walls passed by quicker than expected. Before the young Borrower knew it, he was standing above one of the ceiling fan tiles that they used to observe. He could already hear the daughter and the older lady talking.

“Mom, what are you looking for?” asked the daughter.

“I… well… I’m sure I saw it in here somewhere,” the older woman replied.

“Dad’s ring?” prompted the daughter. “Mom, you looked in there already. It’s been lost for years.”

“Pish posh I remember seeing it just the other day,” the mother responded as she continued to rummage through the next box. She started taring the tape off of another when the daughter intervened.

“Here, mom, why don’t you check this box,” she suggested, but the mother shook her head.

“No, I distinctly remember seeing it by the couch. These boxes must be on top of it.”

Hero listened for a few more minutes, saddened by the encounter, now knew what he had to do – he was going to find that ring. He pulled himself from the ceiling tile, ensuring it was secure, before heading for the nearest wall that could take him to the ground, which was not a far walk. The path to and from this apartment was well used and so had a permanent line anchored to it.

The sheer drop down was enough to makes his knees weaken and his head spin with vertigo. Heights weren’t always an issue, but that little bit of nervousness was something Hero took as a good sign. If he weren’t nervous, he might miss checking something before climbing the line. There was darkness below where there was usually light. Must be a bad bulb. He wrapped his hands around the line, checked his footing, and descended the line knot after knot.

It took some time, but he finally reached the ground by the floorboards. The walls absorbed the light on his hip lamp. Small dust particles drifted around in the air, lingering as the footsteps above knocked them loose. The Christmas lights which usually illuminated most of the main hallways they traversed were still hanging on the walls on top of the thumbtacks.

Something about the air didn’t set right with Hero. There was an eerie stillness under the floorboards of the older woman’s apartment. Hero felt himself freezing. There was a nervousness in his chest. His heart was beating so incredibly fast now. When did that happen?

The determined boy couldn’t let these things bother him now. He puffed out his chest with a deep inhale and stepped further into the darkness. The joists towered above him at a whole seven inches and effectively had him surrounded on his left and right. Hero began walking up and down the floor joists, starting where he was at the entrance and working his way to the sitting area.

Hero knew where the old woman’s couch was in the apartment; and he also knew there were several wide floorboards and some holes the other Borrowers had left in case they needed to make a hasty exit. Maybe it was unlikely, but Hero suspected that if something had been knocked into the floor, it could have fallen through one of their hiding holes.

He passed by a few more unilluminated lights and noticed a few of the wires were exposed – chewed through. Suddenly, his keen ears picked up something. If he hadn’t been on edge, he might’ve missed it. The light on the hip lamp only illuminated a foot or so in every direction, but sound didn’t need the light to be heard.

A skittering sound of clawed feet scraped just on the other side of one of the joists. It stopped. Then it started again. Immediately, his heart leapt into his throat and the Borrower boy stopped dead in his tracks. Hero instinctively pulled his pin from his side and held his hip light in his right hand.

He peered around the corner and could see with his bright green eyes the small tail of a mouse skittering away from the little bit of light from Hero’s lamp. He exhaled shakily. Maybe he wouldn’t need to fight it today. He glanced down the passage and decided to follow behind carefully.

Cautious step after cautious step, Hero eventually heard the mouse head back down through the walls as he turned down the next corridor. Sadly, there were only three left for him to check.

As he walked down the next hall feeling discouraged, he realized that there was a slight glint up ahead. Still brandishing the pin, Hero stepped forward with the light extended until he recognized the shape of a circle – a ring. He had found it!

The tarnishing silver ring was thick and heavy with writing Hero didn’t recognize. Reading was something his parents insisted that he learn, but even that didn’t help him with these words. There was also some kind of glittery rock in the middle. Now all that needed to be done was get it to the humans without getting caught. This was going to be interesting.

First and foremost – move it. It took some time, but the ring was eventually wrestled into the borrowing bag. The weight was significant and made normal borrowings feel light as a feather. Still, this would not stop the mission.

Hero now had to determine where to put it. Both of the humans were still at home and, from the sound of it, things were being moved around. Hero was usually very dexterous and quick, but he was incumbered by the weight. So, going up right then and there was out of the question.

While he walked back through the halls, he made his decision. He would wait until nighttime and put it in the woman’s bedroom where he knew she could find it – her bedside table. The thought of being so terribly close to a human made his insides flip anxiously. Still, he knew he had to persevere.

The trek to the elderly woman’s room was a long one and one that was taken with caution. That mouse was still roaming around and the last thing that Hero needed was a confrontation when he was debating how to get on top of the table with the ring in tow.

While he walked, he thought of scenario after scenario. I could climb it, obviously, but the weight on my back may make me tired before I reach the top. I could try to pull it up once I climbed to the top, but that leaves me on top of the table for a bit longer than I would want. I could try and tie one end to the ring and one end to me, jump, and have it slingshot up to the top.

Before he knew it, he was under the floor of the bedroom. Hero let his pack slump off of his shoulders and onto the ground, rubbing the aching muscles and tendons in his shoulders. Up above, he could hear the sounds of feet shuffling against the ground. She must be getting ready for bed. Earlier than normal.

The teen waited until the shuffling stopped to make his move, which he finally figured out. He was going to pull the ring up onto the desk. Climbing would be too tiresome and he weighed more than the ring, even if his shoulders argued otherwise, and couldn’t control the descent.

The pack was back on his shoulders again and he was on his way. Up through the opening in the baseboard under the bed, Hero tread lightly up to the immense bedside table, extinguishing his light before arriving. His keen ears picked up on the light sound of breathing just above him. Perfect. Completely quiet.

He tied the line onto his bag tightly before removing his hook. Pause for a breath. Aim. Swing. Swing. Hero let the hook fly from his hands and heard the hook sink in with a firm knock. Perfect. He shimmied up the rope in no time, glancing over to see the sleeping woman barely two feet from him. A shiver ran down his spine. It was completely involuntary and it was only then that Hero realized this was the closest he had ever been to a human before.

Everything about them was so much bigger than him. Their faces. Those eyes. It made his head and insides flip and swirl at the very notion of their hands. Don’t think about that now. You need to get the ring back on the table. He began pulling his bag up with the line. It tapped the table a few times on its ascent, which made him freeze and watch. Not a single stir.

It wasn’t until Hero had pulled up the bag and began pulling out the ring that he heard the older woman stir, shifting under the sheets that could easily smother him. His heartrate spiked, forcing him to swallow dryly as he finished pulling the ring free from the satchel.

The ring was right there in view next to the clock and the lamp. It wouldn’t be hard to find. Hero had almost reached his line when he heard something.

“What the… what is…” the voice of the elderly woman, still saturated with a groggy tiredness. Hero’s breath hitched in his throat. Every impulse shrieked. He almost threw himself off of the table when he saw a hand beginning to emerge from beneath the quilts and covers. Instead, he threw his bag over one shoulder and grabbed the line.

The rope burned his fingers and palms and he landed on the ground with a definite thud just as the light came on. There was no time. He back peddled as fast as he could from the line, regretting using his best hook. He was halfway to the hidden entrance when he heard her speak again.

“Oh… my… Stuart’s ring…” Hero stopped in his tracks. Stuart? Was that his name? The older man? “Oh… thank you little sprite.” Hero’s breath stopped completely. Was she able to see anything? Would she look?

All he knew was he heard the clattering of his hook on the ground, a sniffly sob, and then the lights turned out again. It was a risk, but Hero needed his hook. He quickly darted back and retrieved the hook; however, just before he left, he uttered the smallest “you’re welcome” before darting back into the cover of the walls.

Mission – success! Maybe he was seen. Maybe the old woman believed in such things. He didn’t know. What was certain was he had made someone’s day a little better; and that’s all that really mattered to him.

~Thanks for reading. Have any humans Hero needs to help? Suggestions and prompts welcome down below. Stay awesome!

Continue

Previous

Beginning

[ophiuchus-interactive]

You made some fair points on originality in IF works, but I'd like to ask, what was the intention of putting your work out there? For others to read, isn't it? That means you and other writers are opening yourselves for feedback and ultimately criticism. Whether or not they are what you hoped for, it's going to happen unfortunately. And when there are similarities in terms of specific things (ie. supernatural detective stories) it's natural for others to draw connections. Maybe the author was inspired by another and created their own spin on the story, or maybe they saw how those elements made the story so well received they wanted to do the same for theirs. Either way, when that level of similarity (no matter how superficial or basic) crops up, it's going to be a point of interest, especially when the earlier work is so popular. It's sad when people accuse authors of plagiarism but it's equally sad to be told off for drawing comparisons when you see them, moreso when it's plain to see. You say you're doing this in your free time so you can share your passion projects with others, and that's great, but please understand not everyone is going to like what you put out and, more importantly, aren't obligated to stick around when it's something they believe isn't as up to par as another work.

My criticism of these comparisons that people draw are not a deflection of people actually criticizing works, but instead the false accusation that is being thrown at authors for having similar stories.

This nowhere near drawing comparisons between works. Stories that have similar tropes or beats or elements are part of a genre. No one is criticizing pointing out similarities- it's when people decide that these comparisons must mean that someone was just copying off of another person. And yes, you are absolutely correct, and I agree with you 100%- no one has to like what you put out. At all. They don't even have to give a reason as to why. What people like and what people don't like- even with the stuff I create and put out there in public- is none of my business. You don't like my story? Cool. You're never going to please everyone, and you shouldn't- focus on the people who do like your work, and go with that instead. But what I was talking about in that post are primarily anons who- most notably with TWC- will often outright attack authors for having stories similar to it. This is not criticism. This is just saying that the author is committing a rather egregious form of theft and claiming it as their own property, when the author themselves have put time, sweat, and tears into the story that they wrote without copying anyone.

Take my anon for instance, who accused me of just ripping off characters I 'liked' from somewhere(?) and bastardizing them into Thane and Rosalie. This is not criticism, this is just them claiming that I have stolen the work of someone else and used it. It is a false claim of something I take very, very seriously as a writer, and it is not amusing to be told that you are just some kind of lazy thief who's mooching off of other people's work. It is not amusing nor helpful at all.

What I am attempting to point out with that post is that not only is this just not criticism- i.e, "im telling so/so you stole their story" or "just admit you wrote this because xyz" it is a rather poor understanding of literature and how people are influenced by things they surround themselves with. There are things such as tropes, and storylines, and genres or ideas that are often used and expressed through media. They may look and feel and go for the same moral, but depending upon the execution of the media- the innovation of what the author brings to the table- it may be a total different product by the end of it.

And that to me, is the most important part of that entire post. It is not the silly and often times false accusations of copying, but rather the lack of acceptance from creative communities- both creators and consumers- that in order for something to be good, it needs to be original. But what the hell does that even mean? Do I have to be like Tolkien, and create entire languages and maps and charts for my world? Do I have to avoid tropes at all costs? Do I have to have the entire story from a different point of view? Does it have to be avant garde?

It can be with these elements, of course, but I think many forget that simple stories with simple tropes and dynamics are okay. It's okay to be simple, and no, it's not copying off another person's because it has similar beats that can be see throughout the entirety of human literature as we know it. You don't have to constantly attempt to have twists or worry that your story isn't "original enough" because it goes from plot A to B to C.

This seems to be flung out the window by those few who think they have some kind of God-given right to make the claim of someone plagiarizing another's work, just because it features vampires or death or whatever the hell is similar to something else.

Accusations are not criticisms. They are precisely what they are- accusations. It is best, in my eyes, to not confuse the two.

[mc-i-r]

He tries

Pov: Janus

Tw: major character death, angst, hint of unsymp!sides (except Remus), arguing, illusions(?), knife/stabbing mention (hypothetically), panic attack (implied), swords, all caps (screaming), language, crying, unintentioned body morphing, self deprecating thoughts, overworking, unintentional triggering of panic attack, a  t o u c h of derealization(?)

Let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 2460

A/N: hi @imma-potatoo um I know you probably don’t know me but do you remember this post? yeah I um I wrote it so yeah here it is :)

Edit: tumbled being a bitch baby and I can't get the fuckin link to work I'm so sorry D:

Janus is a complicated creature. He always has been and, presumably, always will be. But that's what humans are, aren’t they? Complicated, fickle little things. They suffer with emotions and thoughts and actions and make their way about the world like little ants trying to please their queen. But Janus has no queen, only five sides and a human to please. He’s not even a human, only a fraction of one that’s forced to live and breathe among the ants. However, no matter what he does, no matter how much he sacrifices and works and improves himself, he just can’t please them. Like I said, he’s complicated.

It’s not as if he’s the perfect person either. I mean, all humans make mistakes right? So why should he be any different? I suppose it’s because of his function, being Deceit rarely has its perks. Sure, impersonating other sides to be listened to or get his point across most likely wasn’t the most effective way to help Thomas but...who can blame him? I mean, it’s not as if he could just pop up and immediately be listened to. Hell, Logan shows up in almost every video and even he’s not listened to! But Janus still tries. And tries. And tries. And tries. And tries.

Nothing works.

Right now, he’s trying to tell them that Thomas needs to take a break. He’s been working nonstop for the past three weeks planning videos, photoshoots, costume arrangements, events, and auditions. Needless to say, they're all a bit stressed. Janus most of all.

Changing from Deceit to Self Preservation was a major change in Janus’s life. I mean, spending years being hated and feared and hidden away from others did its damage, it's part of the reason why Janus inherited the snake traits but, finally being acknowledged that he’s real and a part of Thomas just like everyone else is was....overwhelming. Granted, nothing’s really changed. He still gets ignored, pushed around, and left out but...when those two words left Thomas’s mouth… that was all he needed. All he wanted. To just be seen. To be noticed by someone other than Remus.

It only lasted for a week.

Still, he does his job. He makes sure Thomas washes his face in the morning and drinks his coffee. He makes sure he goes to sleep, takes a shower, washes his clothes and does everything else a man in his thirties does. But throwing more and more projects in the mix means Janus gets pushed to the side, left to scream from a distance that Thomas needs to take care of himself. He’s been working overtime just to make sure Thomas goes to bed, not even worried about what time as long as his head hits the pillow before the sun comes up. Sometimes, he’s been unsuccessful. But he still tries. Even now, stressed and overworked out of his mind, he tries.

He was relaxed...well, somewhat, giving his points sparingly to not push the boundaries of his newfound acceptance too soon. He added a pro here and a fact there, trying to lead them all in the right direction. So far only Patton agrees and, given recent events, that basically means everyone else is against it. Still, Janus tries.

He’s settled in between the banister and Logan, putting him unfortunately close to Virgil who is definitely not sparring on giving him his fair amount of glares. Still, Janus endures, knowing that a break will only do Thomas good. I mean, have you seen Hamilton?

But the bickering soon turns into arguing between Roman and Patton, Janus not even daring to interject. It was surprisingly intense, the newfound hatred on Romans end and the persistent pushing from Patton coming together to explode in a bout of yelling. Janus shrank back from the noise, pushing himself further into the shadows in an attempt to hide himself. It, unfortunately, didn’t work.

“Jan, tell him that he needs to take a break!” Patton pleaded, looking at Janus with eyes that held all too much emotion behind them. He wanted to help, he really did, but…

“Oh yeah, please Janus, tell us why Thomas needs a break now that he’s finally getting work done,” Roman sassed back. Janus knew Roman just wanted to prove a point. He knew that. But the intense gaze the creative side gave him made him shudder. Roman was mad at Patton, not Janus. Still, the look of pure hatred bore into Janus, pricking his skin and making his stomach drop.

He couldn’t speak. No witty quip or sarcastic remark, not even a hiss. He just froze. He felt everyone’s eyes turn to him, waiting for a response to the very simple question. Hell, Janus had been supporting it for the past hour they had been talking about it! But now, all eyes on him and tongues ready to object, he couldn’t speak.

It felt as if the room was spinning, warping and contorting around him until he couldn't tell left from right. He knew it wasn't really happening, the real world didn’t work like that, but his brain was convinced that it was. He felt his eyes go wide and he stumbled, catching himself on the banister. He tried to hide it by adjusting his hat only to be met with a concerned voice.

“Janus? Kiddo, are you okay?” Patton, sweet sweet Patton asked, dropping the fierce gaze and tone and replacing it with a gentle question. Janus swallowed and cleared his throat.

“I’m fine, Patton, thank you for your...concern” Janus trailed off, taking a breath in between his words. His eyes started to waver in and out of focus. He gasped and stumbled again, leaning in the banister to keep his weakening body up. He heard Patton shout something, presumably his name, and rush over to him.

Too close too close too close-

Janus hissed at him, shrinking away from Patton and further against the railing. Patton paused, a flash of hurt washing over his face before he took a few steps back, holding his hands up in defense. Janus hated that look, the type of look that made you want to wrap Patton in a blanket to protect him from the world. He wanted to apologize but his throat wouldn’t work, staying stubbornly quiet as the room spun.

A sharp pain bore its way through his skull, feeling as if a hot knife was being stabbed in his snake eye over and over and over again. He yelled out and grabbed his face, kneeling over as it sent a wave of pain through his body. He could feel the others rush forwards, all ready to help the now screaming side.

Get away get away ge-

“Get away!” Janus hissed out.

He felt his body glitch, his insides morphing into something inhuman. He heard a gasp and he opened his eyes to see Patton covering his mouth, Logan furrowing his brow, Virgil staring at him with wide eyes and, of course, Roman with his sword drawn. Janus reached up to his face to feel glasses. He looked down to see a cardigan wrapped around his shoulders and draped over a light blue shirt. He glanced at Patton, confirming the suspicion that he had transformed into the moral trait.

“Kiddo...what's happening?” Patton asked quietly, patiently waiting for an answer.

Janus didn’t have one.

“I don’t kn-aaAAHH!” Janus tried to speak but was interrupted by another glitch, his voice cracking and diving deeper. He kneeled over again, wrapping an arm around his stomach. He could see a blue tie hanging from his neck and, upon sitting up, he realized he had now morphed into Logan.

“Janus are...are you okay?” Logan asked, speaking quietly and for the first time all day. Janus opened his mouth to speak when he glitched again, changing into Roman quicker than he did Patton or Logan. His mind didn’t have time to register the change before he glitched again, becoming draped in a plaid-patched jacket. He heard Virgil hiss.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Virgil hissed out, more panicked than angry. Janus began to sass back when he glitched again, changing back to his former self.

He took a breath and shook his head, leaning against the banister to support himself. He wrapped an arm around his stomach and felt his skin prickle, his scales shining as well as his discolored eye. He slowly looked up, locking eyes with Thomas.

“H-...help-” Janus whispered before he was cut off by a scream, his body morphing back to that of Patton.

He couldn’t control himself now, his body moving on it’s own accord while his mind begged for it to stop. He just wanted it to stop. His mouth opened and before he knew it, he was speaking.

“I don't know if I can believe whatever YOU tell me.”

The words left his mouth before he even realized what they were, his hand involuntarily slapping itself over his mouth to stop him from saying more. Patton looked at him with wide eyes, covering his mouth with his hands in shock. Janus could see...he could see the pain in his eyes. The hurt. The regret. Tears were already forming on the moral traits’ face, one or two of them rolling down his flushed cheeks.

“J-Janus? What…?” Patton whispered out, voice barely audible even though the room was silent.

“Pat, ple-” he wanted to apologize. He needed to apologize. But the words couldn’t come out. He glitched yet again, changing into the logical side once more.

“You’re nothing more than a glitch, a mistake in the mind.”

Logan froze solid, face blank in shock. Janus couldn’t blame him, having his own hurtful words thrown back at him would do that to you. Logan absentmindedly fiddled with his tie, staring blankly at Janus. Janus tried to reach out, to take a step and tell him that it was okay, that this was all just a big mistake and that he was sorry, but the fear in Logan’s eyes when he took a step forward was enough to know he should keep his distance. Perhaps, forever.

The bones in his back shifted, forcing his body to morph into the creative side. He leaned exhausted on the railing, looking up at Roman in reluctant hatred.

“We can’t trust him! Did you forget that he’s EVIL?!”

Romans surprised gaze turned into a scowl, his eyes narrowing at the unwilling imposter in the room. Who could blame him? Janus has barely even been acknowledged as a facet of Thomas’s personality, much less accepted and liked. If he starts changing and mocking other sides in front of them all is it really such a stretch that Roman would be on guard?

But Janus can’t stand it. Not anymore. He and Roman had come to somewhat of an agreement, both apologizing soon after the last video and working on building their relationship from the ground up. Things had been good as of late but this...this could ruin that completely.

So Janus cried.

He didn’t mean to, it just kind of...happened. The stress from the past few weeks mixed with whatever was going on currently and the loss of trust between him and Roman was enough to send him over the edge.

He choked out a sob, covering his mouth with his hand as he looked pleadingly to Roman. Praying, wishing for it to stop. He just wanted it to stop. Romans intense gaze softened, his sword lowering as the creative side was at a loss for words. Well...almost.

“Jan? Jan, what’s wrong?” Roman asked tentatively, scared of saying the wrong thing or making the wrong move. Jan appreciated him for that, always willing to look out for others no matter what. That's what made him an inspiration.

He reached out with his hand towards Roman, hoping that something would happen to make it go away. All he got in return was another glitch and a purple patchwork hoodie over his shoulders.

“N-no-” he tried to make it stop, to morph back to his old self and hide away forever. But his body didn’t hold him any sympathy, his mouth dripping out evil words.

“Even if he can tell the truth, that doesn’t mean he can be trusted.”

Virgil's eyes lit up in shock, his eyeshadow darkening as he backed up from the deceitful trait. He started shaking his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he slid down the wall. He tried to speak, his words cut off by a wave of panic.

“I-...I’m so-sorry, Jan. I-...I-” the boy in black buried his face in his hands, Roman soon rushing over to comfort him.

“I...It’s o-” Janus was cut off by a grunt as a wave of pain passed through him. “-kay. It’s okay.”

“Kiddo, are you sure?” Patton asked...scared? He was careful, speaking softly much like he did when calming Virgil down from an atta-….oh.

Oh.

Janus slowly looked up at him as his body morphed around him, changing back to his own skin. He didn’t feel real anymore, his face feeling too foreign to be familiar. He had no mask up anymore, all his emotions out there in the open for all to see. His eyes were cloudy, covered in a film of exhaustion and weakness. His skin was pale and flushed, his body shaking. He was absolutely pathetic.

He weakly looked over to Thomas, his body relying solely on the support of the wooden stairs behind him. He locked eyes with him, his stomach souring at the pity in his eyes. He opened his mouth, voice coming out in hoarse rasps.

“Oh, I hate this guy and his creepy...snake face!”

“Get out of here, Jack the Fibber!”

“Gah, Deceit! Leave me alone you slippery snake!”

“Well, your face ruined my day so we’ll call it even.”

“Why is he still here?”

“E V I L!”

One by one he repeated the words, his tears falling faster and his body growing weaker. He collapsed on his knees after the final word, clutching his chest as his breath grew sparse. He heaved in a final breath, looking around the room at each of the sides individually. He gasped out his final words, ones that would stick with the rest of them forever.

“I’m sorry.”

With that, he disappeared, his body falling limp to the floor. There were screams. Cries. Pleas for him to come back, for him to have a chance at being accepted. But it never worked. Day after day, year after year, nothing ever worked. Thomas would realize soon after that he had lost the ability to lie…

...and Janus with it.

Taglist: 

@whattheremus

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[lady-divine-writes]

ACITW AU one-shot - “Draining Pipes” (Rated M)

Summary: After Sebastian is accidentally exposed to Covid, Kurt convinces him to quarantine. While the rest of the city is slowly opening up, Kurt is returning to a life that resembles normal. But for Sebastian, home alone without his boyfriend, isolation is changing him. And Kurt has some concerns... (2063 words)

Notes: Yes, this is a pandemic fic, but I promise, it's funny XD

Read on AO3.

"Hi, honey! I'm home!"

"Nope. Try again."

Kurt's head snaps up so quickly he stutters a step, nearly tripping over his feet even though he'd already stopped walking. He glares at Sebastian from across the room as if the man had gotten up from his seat, strolled over, and, without a word, vomited rancid sushi all over his Manolo Blahniks. "What?"

In a tone reminiscent of one his NYADA dance teacher, Cassie July, used that made Kurt prickle from head to toe, Sebastian says, "Try. again."

"Try what again?"

"Walking through the door."

Kurt spins around to examine the doorway, searching for clues about what he could have possibly done incorrectly. "And what, pray tell, is wrong with the way I walk through the door!?"

"Every time you come home, you say, 'Hi, honey! I'm home!'"

"Yeah, and... ?"

"It's boring. Unoriginal. It harkens back to an era of television situation comedy that had no hand in influencing our generation and, frankly, regurgitating it is beneath you and your dramatic talents."

Kurt plants his hands on his hips and gawks. What the hell happened to his boyfriend while he was away? He was only gone four hours! "Have you been rifling through my old schoolbooks again? I told you, there was no Illuminati conspiracy going on at NYADA!"

"Why don't you try something different?" Sebastian counters, neither confirming nor denying Kurt's accusation. "Something a bit more, dare I say, exotic?"

"Exotic?" Kurt scrunches his nose with distaste when he says it. Of all the words in the English language, that's one of his least favorite. "What constitutes exotic in your twisted opinion?"

"I don't know. Think of something. You're the creative, not me."

"What? I... " A dozen arguments about how he's just gotten home, how exhausted he is, how travel between here and the theater was a pain in the ass because some people still don't seem to understand what 'over the mouth AND nose' means so navigating his way through the subway was like playing a game of human Tetris with potentially infected pieces and that he's never been all that good at Tetris anyway! die on his lips. 

It would be a waste of breath.

Still, Kurt doesn't know why he indulges him, but he turns on his heel and walks back out the door. After a few seconds of deep breathing in the hall to keep from screaming bloody murder, he storms back in and brightly declares, "Buenos dias, motherfucker! Como what's up?"

Seeing as the two of them speak fluent French, Spanglish is the most exotic thing he could come up with.

Sebastian nods in stoic approval. "Better. How goes life on the apocalyptic landscape?"

"I'm not selling my body for Cocoa Krispies if that's what you're asking," Kurt quips, wondering if this is how Sebastian acts at work and how no one has put the man through a window yet, partner or not.

"So what I'm hearing is you didn't bring home Cocoa Krispies."

"Nope. Sorry."

"Bitch."

"Yeah, well... " Kurt removes his shoes and socks, then sheds his coat, his messenger bag, his slacks, and his dress shirt, carefully piling them on a chair by the front door - their staging area for decontamination. While he undresses, he eyes Sebastian, not paying him an inch of mind, sitting on what has been dubbed the convalescence corner of the sofa, dressed in a soft white tee and flannel lounge pants, his laptop open on legs covered by a quilt his mother made for him when he was ten. Sebastian knows for a fact that Kurt is undressing and yet he's not leering at him, wolf-whistling under his breath or licking his lips like he's watching an Outback Steakhouse commercial. He's simply sitting in his spot, eyes glued to his laptop screen.

And Kurt loathes it.

Sebastian's attentions have been waning more and more lately, and even though it's savagely bruising Kurt's ego, he can't blame him.

Depending on how they choose to look at things, this situation could kind of, slightly, sort of be deemed Kurt's fault.

"Thank you again for doing this," Kurt says, extending an olive branch. He's been doing this so often over the past few months, he's started buying in bulk. "I can't tell you how much you keeping your distance and staying home has put my mind at ease."

Sebastian doesn't look at him when he replies: "No sweat, babe."

"I know it was just one small cough... and the kid was wearing two masks... and a face shield... "

"Hey, like you said, no need taking any chances. Right?"

"Right," Kurt agrees. And he believes it. He believed it then and he believes it now. Had the roles been reversed, Kurt would make the sacrifice, more than willing to lock himself away for the sake of curbing this disease and keeping Sebastian healthy.

But it isn't him. 

And he feels like dirt going to work three days a week, returning to something that resembles normal knowing what Sebastian is missing out on.

"It's his mother's fault for not mentioning that her little plague rat has covid before I got stuck on the elevator with them," Sebastian says, possibly trying to make Kurt feel better even though his gaze hasn't shifted.

"But quarantining for six days longer than necessary? That's above and beyond! I mean it. You deserve a medal." 

Sebastian tosses him a wink over his shoulder but he doesn't linger, giving half-naked Kurt only a brief once over. "I got you, fam. Besides, time's up tomorrow. Then... " He thousand-yard stares in the direction of the flat screen "... it's rat-hunting season."

"It hasn't been all bad, has it?" Kurt asks guiltily as Sebastian's eyes return to his laptop. He'll admit that maybe he did go a tad overboard when he'd found out Sebastian had been exposed, banishing him to one end of the penthouse and the guest bedroom, keeping him at broom handle length for the past nineteen days. 

But they were almost in the clear! And that's the part that pisses Kurt off most. 

The disease hasn't been eradicated, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The theater started allowing small groups to return for socially distanced practices. That's a huge win for Kurt. Being away from Broadway and rehearsals and opening nights and curtain calls... it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

Sebastian was on the brink of going back to the office a few days a week, too. It wasn't so much not being at the office that bothered him, but the peripherals - eating lunch at his favorite deli or hitting the gym before dinner. 

Sebastian had taken three tests after that fateful elevator incident, all of which came back negative, so he was confident everything would be alright. He was in the midst of planning his first in-person meeting, but Kurt balked, pointing out that there has been so much controversy over the accuracy of those tests. Sebastian offered to take three more if necessary, but regardless of the outcome, Kurt didn't feel it safe. And even though they had access to the vaccine (because money), being exposed, even minorly, pushed Sebastian's timetable for receiving his first dose back two weeks.

Kurt's father and stepmother have both received theirs, and Kurt was so looking forward to taking a trip to Ohio for a first hug in over a year. He's going to be damned if a four-foot-tall Petri dish ruins that for him!

But because of his paranoia, Kurt and Sebastian haven't touched, haven't kissed in two weeks. They tried the whole Skype sex thing from different rooms of the penthouse, aiming to recapture old college day thrills to boot, but it didn't work out the way they'd hoped. And even though they see each other every day, talk to one another, aggravate each other, throw popcorn and other food items at each other, Kurt misses Sebastian like the dickens. He misses his hugs, his warmth, his smell.

And yes, he misses the sex.

"Since I've been back to work, you've had the peace and privacy to watch those wacky pornos that your brother sends you."

"Yup," Sebastian says, typing something into his search bar that Kurt can't quite make out. "The wackiest."

"Didn't he say something about them being illegal in the contiguous 49 states?"

"Forty-eight. Tennessee turned itself around."

"It would be Tennessee."

"Always is."

"You probably haven't given your fleshjack a rest in two weeks," Kurt prods, worried over these short responses. 

"Mmph... mmm-hmm... "

Kurt starts circling the sofa when all he gets is a chuckle in response, curious if Sebastian is even listening to him. He comes up behind him, standing on a piece of painter's tape they'd put down to mark six feet so Kurt can peek over his shoulder.

And what he sees on Sebastian's screen makes absolutely no sense.

"What are you watching?"

"Drain clearing videos."

Kurt's eyes go wide. "Drain clearing? Wh-what does that mean?"

"This guy drives all over, and when he finds a street that's flooded, he takes out a rake, drags it through the water, and tries to find the blocked drain."

"Does he work for the city?"

"Nah. He's just some guy."

"And he's made a whole channel about... clearing drains."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're watching it?"

"It came up in my recommendations so I clicked one." Sebastian shakes his head, chuckling when stagnant grey water, punctuated by speckles of rain, turns into a whirlpool, rushing through thick iron bars embedded in the concrete and disappearing from view. "It's so satisfying."

"What on Earth were you watching before this that YouTube recommended it?"

"Car cleaning videos."

Kurt's left eyebrow slowly climbs up his forehead. "A-ha."

"Yup. I never realized how relaxing it is to watch a handsome guy Bissell Kool-Aid stains out of carpet. But now... it's my jam."

Kurt huffs, offended on behalf of himself and his own vigorous cleaning regimen. "It wasn't your jam when I was steam cleaning our throw rugs! And the curtains!"

"Yeah, well, things hit different when you're forced into isolation."

Kurt storms forward a step. But then he remembers. And he stops, foot hovering an inch past the sacred boundary that keeps him from venturing too close to infection. He teeters, determination creasing his brow while anxiety wrestles his shoulders back. All the while, a war wages inside his tired brain:

"Get him! You've been vaccinated!"

"It's only one dose!"

"He's not even sick!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

"It's not worth the risk!"

"Yes... it... IS!"

"Come on!" Kurt demands, throwing himself bodily at the sofa. He grabs Sebastian's hand, a small voice screaming inside his head as if his tiny naysayer is being burned at the stake. "Come with me... NOW!"

"Where are we going?" Sebastian asks, rushing to move his computer to the side before he gets dragged off the sofa by his surprisingly strong boyfriend.

"This is an intervention."

"But you shouldn't be touching me! Or breathing my air! I have one day left!"

"You're fine! If you haven't gotten sick by now, you probably aren't going to! This is an emergency!"

"What emergency?"

"Quarantine has turned you into someone I don't recognize! Car cleaning videos? Who are you right now?"

"They're educational. It's good to learn a new skill."

Kurt barks a laugh that could shatter crystal. "Right. Like you'd ever. You'd pay highway robbery to have your ten-speed detailed!"

"Nope, because you'd do it for free."

 Kurt rolls his eyes, unwilling to entertain his boyfriend's mocking of him to ask whether or not that's code. "If you're going to ogle a man wielding a Bissell, Goddammit, it's going to be me!"

"So... are we going to clean some carpets?"

"We're going to take a shower and then have sex. A lot of sex. You're getting fucked and sucked until you're back to normal."

Sebastian snorts, delighted by his incredibly good fortune. "If you insist. But are you absolutely sure about this?"

Kurt stops short and faces Sebastian. He looks him over, making certain he doesn't seem particularly sick, and shrugs.

"We'll wear masks. Or three. I don't need to kiss you to make you cum." Kurt continues to drag Sebastian towards the bathroom as his grin grows to epic proportions.

"Kinky."

[h2ojustaddmako]

Headcanon: The Origin of Mermaids & Magic

Wooooooo...it’s been a long time since I’ve written one of those. I can truthfully say I’m been sitting on this one for maybe over a year...letting it cook up inside me...like a dumpling of information. Okay, weird image, i get it, but that’s the truth.

Basically today I wanna go over a little idea of mine I’ve had for a long time, and every time I rewatched the show, it was fed and grew larger and larger, with more and more information to help me piece out the puzzle of mermaid powers, and why all you thought you know was absolute garbage.

As I went over in my (pretty popular, if I may) post about how the powers work, mermaids use electromagnetism in a way that helps them alter the magnetic field around them and manipulate water in multiple ways to be able to “control” it. The moon is magnetic, and so is Mako Island, therefore, something in the full moon evokes the powers. But what is it?

While watching season 3 and Mako Mermaids as a whole, you’d realize they are more similar than you’d think. Actually, the lore introduced in season 3 seems to be the base foundation to the entire world-building in Mako Mermaids. One thing that is highly notable is the appearance of the crystals. Moon crystals, as I call them, can indeed release “moonlight”, this blue, hypnotizing energy wave. But that’s not really moonlight, per se. You see, moonlight isn’t a real thing in nature; the moon doesn’t radiate like the sun, it’s just reflective, and it’s surely not deep blue. And so, the so-called moonlight in the show is actually something else. Like the stones of Mako, the crystals in them also originated from the moon, and Mako (and every other “moon pool” out there) is probably sitting on millions of them. Considering how many were inside that one piece Ryan and Sophie tried to grab, the foundation of Mako Island is rich with these blue bitches. Now, these crystals are unique because they store inside them the secret to mermaid magic. 

You see, throughout the Mako show, one of the most valuable items are these little ‘moon rings’. These little rings with a nice, big blue crystal right in the middle. While the show never explicitly reveals that the crystals are originated from the moon pool, or Mako at all, but given the pretty obvious design choice, it’s very clear to us that it’s more than just an artistic design. They also work in a very similar way - they both radiate blue energy that is very strong, and have serious powers. Mako gave us a very big hint to the origin of that, by saying the moon rings need to be recharged in full moons. That’s when the power of the moon is the strongest. Now going back a little, we said the moon doesn’t really shine a light of its own, so what are we talking about? Well, like the crystals on the rings, the crystals on the moon absorb power daily, from the sun and space. The sun uses a strong magnetic field, holding the planets and what-not spinning around it in perfect rings since the creation of the solar system. The crystals on the moon absorb that power, and every night, the moon radiates it back to earth, to its cousin, Mako Island. Simplifying things, the moon absorbs power and in return release it towards Earth, only for that power to charge the entire Mako Island crystal colony. Many have spoken about the weird sensation Mako gives them - electromagnetism, and no wonder mermaids feel it stronger, since they are sensitive to it more than most people. The girls felt the comet getting closer because a part of them is now sensing magnetism in the environment.

So Mako is charged with energy, so what? You see, the moon pool’s shape is very interesting. The decision to place it at the bottom of a volcano isn’t just a creative choice (though it is very cool). The shape of a volcano is that of a cone, of a funnel, if you may. The moon centers around the small opening above and radiates into the moon pool itself. Unlike the rest of the island, which seems unaffected during full moon nights, the shape of the moon pool allows the power to get trapped in the spacious room of crystals walls, awakening the power that is also trapped inside the crystals themselves, probably magnifying the intensity of it by a lot. Add the fact that the full moon is the stronger of the faces of the moon considering all of it is facing Earth and you have yourself a force not to be played with. That means that the moon pool as a room has very strong energy to it, one that apparently can turn someone into a mermaid. 

The mystery of why a mermaid, of all things, and what mermaids have to do with the moon is still a puzzle left to be solved. But one thing’s for sure, mermaids are not natural creatures, despite what Mako Mermaids tries to sell you. They have too many human characteristics to only be relatives to humans and go through such an evolution is a short (evolutionarily speaking) time. Plus, no power in the world can turn you into something you’re not, and for Lewis’ examinations and the medical tests they went through in the “fake sick” episode, it’s pretty safe to say that genetically, mermaids are very slightly different to humans, and it’s not something that can be detected without looking into their DNA. But that tells us enough to safely bet that the origin of mermaids is human, and not another species adapted to live in the ocean.

And yet - sea-born ‘natural’ mermaids are so different from humans. They can siren sing, they give birth to “hatchlings” (whatever that means), and heck, some can even speak to sea animals, what’s up with that? Well, these could all be considered under the umbrella term of rapid evolution. In simple words, rapid evolution is the process a species goes through in order to adapt to a new environment that is foreign to it and different from its natural habitat. While humans don’t really have a natural habitat, we are land animals, and therefore, to live in the ocean we’d have to adapt to different factors. The transformation of the full moon only does about half the work, but a mermaid like Cleo couldn’t live in the ocean forever, as we saw when she ran away. She was hungry, ‘cause she didn’t know how to hunt. She was tired, ‘cause she didn’t know where to sleep safely. And you would be too, if you were to be thrown out of your natural environment and into some place you may have the physical skills to handle, but not the knowledge.

So my theory goes as follows: in an order of events, at some point throughout Earth’s history, a piece of the moon detached and entered our atmosphere. The piece broke off, landing in several places around the world, such as China, Ireland, perhaps the Caribbean as well, but the biggest piece landed off the coast of Australia. The new mass of stone tore through the layers of the Earth, resulting in an active volcano, that eventually cooled down and turned into an island. Million of years later, ancient humans, probably a male and a female, discovered one of the moon pools around the world (probably Ireland), sometime around 3000 years ago, before the first mentions of mermaids in Greek mythology.  Said humans were probably considered as witches, gods, beings of magic and power. It is not far fetched to assume they may have escaped into the ocean. Perhaps more people were interested in getting such powers; maybe it was more than two, maybe even tens of people. Mermaids were considered as monsters, beings of evil to be feared of, and when Christianity rose, perhaps unholy abominations. The moon pools were considered supernatural places. All that led to merpeople being secluded, escaping humans, and accepting the ocean as a new home. They adapted quickly, and with time, the mermadic gene was implemented into their DNA. They were still humans, just highly adapted to life underwater. With the industrial revolution, the stories of mermaids became nothing more than folklore, one with ancient gods, monsters, and myths. Every now and then someone saw a mermaid, like Christopher Columbus, but who would believe a person that saw a being half woman half fish?

this actually started as a whole other headcanon, but go figure