#like if my post hadn't have gone so wild they'd be up there

[chapinii]

question would u ever be open to putting ur gêmeos sims on the gallery

ahhhh i'd rlly like to but ppl on twt have discovered them and i'm scared of putting them on the gallery because i'm paranoid of weirdos with certain mods using them :')

(I may wait until things over there have died down and put them both on secretly, my id on the gallery is the same as here I believe - I won't lie now that i think abt it an older version of cellbit might already be on there but shhh)

there's currently a cc list of the two on my twt, chapini_ !

[peachesofteal]

Hey Peach!!

I just read the ultimate angst post you made and I'm literally not ok but I absolutely love your writing. You write angst so so well it's astonishing and I strive to write at your level one day.

But I can't get all these possible scenarios out of my head about that au so I thought I might share them with you.

So I'm thinking Darling is going to the motions of grief and anger as the boys leave and so decides to ignore them completely. Like she goes ghost mode on them. They text her their apologies on the day their leaving and for obvious reasons can't keep in touch after that.

Darling is a complete mess for the first couple of months after their departure. Living in that apartment alone would become too much for her. Every nook every coner holding precious memories of their times together. She would cry looking at the knick knacks they'd left behind accidentally. Fantasizing about what could have been if she had told them, If they hadn't decided to break up on the spot without consulting her, if they had communicated better. But it's too late now, their gone and she can't even let them know she's pregnant, not that she wants to anymore after being dumped like that.

She decides eventually to pull herself together for herself and her growing child. An apartment move was very necessary for her mental well-being so she decides to move somewhere her child can have a fulfilling upbringing. A fresh start somewhere where she isn't consumed by their memories. Somewhere that doesn't remind her of them when she's walking through the park where she would pick wild flowers together with Johnny to put in pretty vases on the dinning table or going to their favourite grocery store and shops looking for ingredients to try new recipes together which might not always turn out great. Or when the local pub owners ask where her pretty men are when their away on ops. Those little things would chip away at her if she had to think about them constantly.

So she moves and begins her difficult and lonely journey as a single parent but still trying to enjoy all her first milestone of her pregnancy. She goes to these wellness classes for expecting mothers where she has to watch couples enjoying their pregnancy together while she sits there all alone. It's difficult to attend these check-ups and classes but she manages for the sake of her child. She might have a little gender reveal by herself or with some friends but in my head darling might go to a bakery with the little slip of paper the maternity nurse had given her and asks them if they could make a cupcake with the adjacent colour filling on the inside so she can celebrate at home, probably with some nice food and her favourite movie. Deciding the name of the child, painting and decorating a nursery, going clothes shopping she wishes she had them there with her as much as she doesn't want to admit missing them, she also might cry alot along her journey but she is constantly learning as she goes along to give her child the best possible life she can provide. But as her mental health fluctuates she finds it increasingly difficult to take care of herself as she nears the due date to give birth.

All this is happening while the boys are on their very difficult and taxing mission. Trying their best to stay alive for each other while dealing with the guilt of hurting darling the way they did . They try to rationalize their decision to break up with her to dissipate their growing guilt but to no avail. They're constantly thinking about her, wondering how she's faring, if she's eating well, if she's recovering from the hurt they caused. They hope to come back alive to talk to explain their reasoning for their decision and try to make it up to her again. Not realising the darling they had left behind was long gone by the time they would get back.

Sorry for going off on a tangent I hope you enjoy my little take on your au. The real angsty parts comes when they get back a realize she's gone for good. Thanks again for blessing us with your writing 💗

I am throwing writing tools at you! Books! Notebooks! Pens! Paper! Laptops! Disco baby au 18+ Mature themes.

I love all of this, but one thing that really sticks with me is the image of Darling, sitting at the kitchen table, alone with a cupcake. You don't have a party, don't have friends over, you just go to the bakery and get this one, singular cupcake, made for yourself.

And then, when you finally get home, after a way too long day at work, your body sore and back tired, you sit down in front of it.

You always thought, that if you were to have a baby, this is something you'd do with your partners, if you even chose to do it at all. You always envisioned not finding out, leaving it for a surprise when the time comes, but this... none of it feels right. None of it feels like it should, and you think that means you shouldn't wait. You should get to know, right now, since there's no one else to share it with, no one else who even cares.

So, when you finally cut into it, and finally see that stupid color on the inside (because also, screw this whole concept to begin with) you don't feel joy. Or excitement. You feel crippling sadness, and you rest your head on the table as you start to cry, cradling your belly with a hand when the baby starts to move.

This was supposed to be good. We were supposed to be happy. You can't not think about the way Johnny would whoop and cause such a ruckus at the news, the way his eyes would light up and how he would pull you in for a devastating kiss. You think about Simon, and the way his eyes would grow wet, even though he swore he wasn't crying, how he would hold you and tell you how happy he is, how much he loves all three of you now. You, Johnny, and little baby girl.

You can almost see them, in the flat, almost hear them, and if you close you eyes, you can picture them sitting on either side of you, holding your hand, kissing your skin slowly. Making you feel loved. Making you feel safe.

But they're not there. You're alone. You, and little baby girl, doing it on your own.

[james-a-b]

the TATINOF experience

ok so. i've wanted to make a post about this for a While now; i feel like a lot of people don't really understand or appreciate how unprecedented TATINOF really was, and for me, watching it in Seattle in 2016, it was the best day of my life.

So here we go.

(I've put the rest below a readmore bc this is an 18 paragraph post lmao)

On March 26th, 2015, Dan and Phil revealed TABINOF via a trailer set in the distant future. The book itself was not entirely unprecedented- other youtubers had written and were writing books, but for the most part (at the time) these were either fictional works or serious biographies; TABINOF was a time capsule of Dan and Phil's youtube brand, and a glimpse into parts of their lives we hadn't seen yet. (For example; Phil's hamster breeding adventures) But tucked into the pages of the book in the trailer were a pair of tickets to The Amazing Tour Is Not On Fire. This was insane. No youtuber had ever gone on tour before, save perhaps for a few musicians; no one had done a stage show. No one knew what to expect.

And, as they asked the audience of each show not to share spoilers, most of us went on not knowing what to expect until we'd seen it ourselves.

I saw the show on June 18th, 2016, near the end of the US leg of the tour. I went in knowing three things:

There were set ways in which we the audience could participate: there was Crafty Corner, Weird Kid, Phone Support Hotline, and a 7 Second Challenge submission box. (I submitted art to Crafty Corner, and I was thrilled just knowing they'd see it)

The set was a giant microwave. What this meant, I could not imagine.

Everyone who'd already seen the show said it was incredible.

I remember having had a dream that I was at the show like a week before it actually happened, and I woke up just as the show was about to start in the dream because my brain couldn't come up with anything they might do onstage lmao.

I can't even begin to put into words how incredible the atmosphere was before the show even started. Phannies were lined up for two blocks outside the theatre, and I'd never felt so welcome anywhere in my life. The doors opened. I believe Cornelia was working the merch stand pre-show, though I don't remember for sure- I got a signed copy of TABINOF and then I took my seat.

The set was incredible, and the pre-show playlist was amazing. Everyone sang along to every song, and when Troye Sivan's Wild came on, everyone screamed. Seriously, if you've never looked at the pre-show playlist for TATINOF you should. Finally, All Star by Smash Mouth played. Everyone was singing along, and laughing because of course Dan put that in there, and then, halfway through the song, the music stops and the lights go out. Everyone screamed, and the opening sequence began to play on the microwave. I understand why they opted to edit that directly into the beginning of the recording, because it would've been a little difficult to see in the recording otherwise, but at the same time it hit so much better when it played directly on the microwave.

And then they came out on stage, and they were so much more awkward than I expected. Dan kept squatting slightly, like he was trying to be shorter, and Phil moved almost like a marionette. They said their hellos, and then they addressed the microwave being there, and the plot started to become apparent- Phil had microwaved his laptop.

I'm not going to get into too much detail on every bit of the show, because I've already written about eight paragraphs and I could write about twenty more going play-by-play through every aspect of the show, but that's not the point of this essay, so I'll attempt to keep things at least a little shorter than that.

The first truly unprecedented thing was when Dan said they were "having a bit of a domestic" when Phil said he couldn't get off the lion. This was the very first time they'd come anywhere near addressing the elephant in the room (their relationship) publicly since the V-day vid. Obviously, compared to the things they've said in 2024 (we've never fucked on youtube, etcetera), "we're having a bit of a domestic" is incredibly tame, but this was huge. Everyone screamed.

And then, shortly after, Phil started singing, and everyone screamed much louder. They did little songs all the time in baking videos or while playing the sims, but this was different. This was on stage, with a spotlight and everything. It was not a surprise to me when Dan cut Phil off; I thought the song was for sure a joke, that there was no way they'd come back to it (spoiler alert, they did).

And then there was the 7 Second Challenge bit, and Reasons Why Phil Was A Weird Kid, and Uncle Dan's Phone Support Hotline, and the PINOF 75 bit. And it was all weird and crazy and amazing. But the next thing I really want to focus on is Fanfiction Live.

Fanfiction Live was... absolutely insane. My show chose cowboys on the moon, and the script they wrote for it was.... so undeniably gay? Like. "Should Phil draw Dan like a French girl"? Are you kidding? This really happened???? They wrote this in 2015. Four years before they came out. This was so far beyond unprecedented. This was unthinkable.

And then, immediately following this insanity, they began Smashing Plates and then they were like "IT'S DIL" and by this point i was hoarse from screaming but when I tell you I screamed...

And then Dil said all those things about Dan feeling like nothing he did was worth anything, but that it meant a lot to Dil and to the audience, and that Phil felt like he had to change who he was to please others but that we appreciated him for who he is... I melted. It was a moment of such genuine honesty, and they'd saved my life, and I loved them so, so much.

And then Phil started singing again, and Dan didn't stop him, and Dan started singing too, and the song was so them, ironic yet genuine, and I was out of my mind because I couldn't believe they were Singing On Stage like that, like, they were youtubers. Not professional singers. No one asked or expected them to go that far. But they did it.

it was the best day of my life.

[sesamestreep]

number 50 for the rogue one crew!! knowing full well that i have a prompt of yours regarding that very crew wallowing away in my inbox .... humblest apologies

50. the hands of fate (from this list) a quick sequel to this. cross-posted to ao3 here happy more joy day 2024 🩵🤍💙

Baze spent a good twenty years of his life listening to Chirrut tell him that they couldn't leave Jedha, whenever the subject arose. Baze's arguments—that their fellow Guardians were gone, that their religion had been all but wiped out, that their holy city was overrun by the Empire, and that there was nothing left for them there—had never made much of an impression. Chirrut remained adamant that they needed to stay and when Baze asked him why, he only said the reason would become apparent in time. Baze, at least, had a lifetime of experience listening to Chirrut's vague proclamations to prevent him from getting too annoyed with this non-explanation. Being more in-tune with the machinations of the Force than Baze is, and being deeply beloved by him regardless, Chirrut can get away with such things.

He'd almost shouted at him on the ship as they narrowly escaped the destruction on Jedha. Had that been why they needed to remain? So they could watch their home, already stripped of its autonomy and its peace for so long, finally be annihilated before their very eyes? His eyes. Chirrut does not—cannot—watch. He hadn't been sure who, of the two of them, was the luckier in that moment. But they hadn't been alone then. They were surrounded by strangers and, while he wasn't above giving Chirrut a piece of his mind with an audience present, he hesitated to give these people on whom their lives now depended the impression they'd picked up two raving mad men in the desert. After that, everything else had happened too quickly for Baze to have the luxury of deep contemplation and the matter had been pushed aside in favor of following the captain, of helping Jyn, of keeping an eye on their pilot. Arguing with Chirrut would have to wait.

Baze is ashamed to say he doesn't put it together on Scarif, not even when they'd all nearly died. He doesn't put it together when they're back with the Rebellion, keeping vigil in the medbay as, one by one, their crew—Rogue One, Bodhi had called it—healed up and moved on. He doesn't put it together even as he watches with mild amusement as Jyn and Cassian grow closer and closer like two trees twisting around each other in the wild, becoming inseparable as he and Chirrut did long ago. He doesn't put it together when what he once thought of as a natural tremor disappears entirely from Bodhi's voice, replaced with a tone of gentle command, or when the frost melts entirely from Jyn's demeanor when she interacts with her partner's droid and he is so entirely shocked when that same droid delicately—delicately!—inquires about Jyn's bloodwork halfway through her pregnancy and listens sympathetically as she rants about the medical droids the Rebellion employs that he can be forgiven for not noticing it then either.

No, he only puts it together when he's sitting with Kitri in his lap and she wraps her whole fist around his pointer finger and refuses to let go. It's a random, seemingly insignificant moment for his heart to stop and the whole of his life to suddenly come into sharp and coherent focus, but he assumes no one really gets to choose these things or their timing for themselves.

Next to him, Chirrut makes an inquisitive noise, which probably means Baze stopped right in the middle of speaking.

"This is why we couldn't leave Jedha," Baze says, impressed that he's managing any words at all right now amidst what could most reasonably be called a life-changing revelation. "This is what we were waiting for, all that time. Them."

"Of course," Chirrut says, wiggling his fingers within capturing distance for the baby, much to her amusement, not seeming to understand or appreciate that Baze is going through something at the moment. "You mean to tell me you didn't know that?"

"You're telling me you did?"

"Not beforehand. I'm not psychic," Chirrut says, as if such a thing is entirely ludicrous to believe. As if that's not how it sometimes feels to Baze when Chirrut describes the way the Force moves around them all. "But the moment I spoke to Jyn, I knew. That's why we followed her and the captain! What did you think I was up to, if you didn't know until now?"

"I thought it was one of your strange whims, Chirrut."

"It's been years, you daft old man," Chirrut laughs.

"Yes, well..."

Chirrut shakes his head, amused. "You really will follow me anywhere, won't you?"

"Yes," Baze says, only vaguely embarrassed by the admission. "Don't act surprised."

Kit makes a noise of objection from her spot in his lap, the smallest foreshadow of an all-out cry, probably because she hasn’t successfully captured Chirrut’s hand with her own yet in this simple but frustrating game he’s initiated. Across the room, Baze sees Cassian, who has dark circles under his eyes again after many years of looking healthier and better rested (though these ones have appeared under happier circumstances), start to rise from his seat, ever watchful over his daughter’s moods and needs. Before he can get far, Baze sees Jyn put a hand gently on his forearm to arrest him and an entirely silent conversation happens between them in the brief eye contact that follows. He feels like he can read all of the beats of an argument and a counter argument and a surrender in the smallest lifting of eyebrows and lowering of lashes.

“We have help,” Jyn says, softly but firmly, as if they’ve spoken all of their concerns out loud so far.

“I know,” Cassian replies, and settles back in next to her. He briefly closes his eyes and rests his head on the back of his seat. Jyn doesn’t take her hand off his arm until he moves it to rest around her shoulders a moment later. Looking over to Baze, Cassian adds, “If you need me to take her, though—”

In the very same moment that Jyn reaches out to swat him for that, Kit screeches with laughter, having finally captured her other uncle’s hand and covered it in an unfathomable amount of drool in an incredibly short amount of time, and diverting Baze’s attention from her parents at last. Next to him, Chirrut smiles with a dangerous amount of pride.

“The Force moves delightedly around this one,” he says, surrendering to this injustice with good sportsmanship as always. “She would have made an excellent Guardian.”

Before the pain of that pronouncement can hit him, Baze hears Jyn speak up. “Good thing we picked up a couple of them in our travels back in the day,” she says, turning to Cassian. “Smart of us, wasn’t it?”

Cassian nods, not so successfully hiding a smile. “Wouldn’t want her squandering any of her potential,” he says. “You’ll have to keep an eye on this connection to the Force, Chirrut. Let us know if she needs any training…”

Chirrut lifts his head at that, looking like a hunting animal picking up a scent. The idea of it hadn’t occurred to him either, then, which makes Baze feel less stupid for not thinking of it himself. He’d grown so accustomed to think of the Guardians as gone and dead, like Jedha was, or at the very least nearly extinct. Kitri’s far too young to have the survival of an entire religion on her shoulders, but he and Chirrut can tell her the names of their teachers and elders and friends and their stories will survive for another generation. There are other children of the Rebellion, too. Their way of life need not die with them. It’s a heady, baffling new feeling, this untempered hope. They’ve been rationing it out carefully among them for years and to have his fill of it all at once is slightly overwhelming.

Chirrut’s expression would be closed off to anyone who hasn’t known him for fifty years, but Baze sees through its defenses quite easily. He sees the surprise and the awe and the barely guarded delight all there plainly. Chirrut turns his attention down to Kit, still chewing on his hand happily, and runs a palm over the sparse but silken hair on her head lovingly, and something heavy and ancient slots into place in Baze’s soul, the final piece of a long forgotten puzzle settling in where it belongs.

“Good to see there are some things in the galaxy that can still surprise you, old man,” Baze says, not sounding nearly as irreverent as he wishes to.

Kit laughs in the same moment Chirrut does, like she’s in on the joke somehow, like she’s been waiting for it. And who knows? Maybe she is. Maybe she has.

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Hank Voight and The Crackhead Detective

It is finished! I am on the waitlist for an AO3 account, and will promptly post it when I am able to! Until then, I have it printed and bound! 🩵🩵✨✨

This piece is co-written with @creativeimagination206 - It has been a wild journey. We have had so much fun writing this. Once it’s posted, I hope everyone else loves it as much as we do!

Below, you can find an excerpt! (I don’t own any of the memes or quotes used, this is all for fun!!)

Some time passed, the Chicago traffic heavier than usual due to tourist season. Voight wasn't in too much of a hurry this time, seeing as Kate hadn't said much since they'd left the crime scene. He visibly relaxed as he moved into his "zone,” pondering on the case.

Soon enough, they'd passed by a Target store. Kate's lips pulled up in a small smirk, then she started speaking in an announcer-type voice, fairly loudly, so as to interrupt the silence engulfing them. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-TAAAAAARRRGEEEETTT!!!" Then, she went completely silent, her face deadpanned, as if nothing had even happened.

Voight had been startled by the sudden shift in noise, but moreover, was terrified of the deadpanned look after, as if he had imagined the whole thing. He blinked and looked at her for a short moment as they stopped at a traffic light. "What the hell was that?"

She looked at him, as if she had no idea what he was talking about. "What?"

He blinked at her, furrowing his brow. "Just now. When you screamed."

Kate hummed, looking as if she was trying to remember something from years ago, then shrugged, looking back out the window. Voight stared at her with intensity, but she didn't falter, looking out the window and practically ignoring his burning eyes. It wasn't until someone behind them honked to let Voight know the light was green that he looked away to drive again. He continued on, inwardly wondering what he had done to deserve this kind of treatment, and if she was insane.

They came to a stop at another light, Voight trying to find the words to say. He looked at her. "Listen, if you want this to work out, you can't be acting like this, it's-" He was cut off by two patrol cars speeding through the crossway of the intersection.

"You stirred up all the wee-woos! Here come all the wee-woos now!" she practically yelled in a vaguely southern dialect. Voight was about to retaliate when she continued, obnoxiously waving her arms as she made the sounds in time with the squad cars passing by. "WEEEE-WOOOO, WEEEE-WOOOO, WEEE-WOOO," She continued with the sounds until the sirens were completely out of earshot, before letting her hands fall into her lap, dropping her face again, and looking back out the window.

Hank had since gone through the green light, driving and looking over at her every so often, wondering what drugs she was on. He didn't talk to her anymore, trying to focus on the case instead.

.

When they pulled up, the two of them got out and walked to the house. Kate rang the doorbell, humming as she waited, glancing at Voight. He tried not to make eye contact, fearing some other bullshit would come out of her mouth, but when he chanced a sideways glance at her, she retaliated with a quiet but very offended, "bombastic side-eye!" and a small huff afterward. Although confused, he was glad she didn't scream it this time. He tried to comprehend her words but couldn't as the door opened.

The elderly woman who answered it smiled at them. "Hello, dears. What can I do for you?"

"Chicago PD, ma'am," Voight said, holding up his badge and clearing his throat. "Is that your car?"

"Why, yes," she said, furrowing her brow. "Is something the matter with it?"

"No, ma'am," Kate replied with a gentle smile. "Were you driving it this morning?"

"Oh, well, no, my son had the car all last night and this morning. He's just upstairs." She turned around and yelled into the house. "Travis?! Travis, come down here, please!"

Kate peeked into the house as Greta stepped aside, seeing someone come down the stairs. The man was young and lanky, but when he saw Hank and Kate or rather, their badges, he broke out into a run toward the back door.

Without a word, Kate ran down the front stairs, sprinting around the house to catch him. Voight sighed, quickly moving through the house and to the back door, chasing after Travis. There was something slippery on the back steps, Voight immediately falling flat on his ass on the stairs. He groaned, muttering expletives beneath his breath and just sitting on the stairs, defeated. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. He hurt his back or tailbone, and he wasn't sure which. Of course, this had to happen when he was paired up with this twenty-something year old detective, who was absolutely off her rocker. He would much rather get the grief from Olinsky or even Trudy than listen to Katelyn's reaction.

Katelyn came to the backyard, furrowing her brow. She'd lost Travis down a set of alleyways and circled back to find Voight on the back steps of the woman's house. She could barely keep herself together as she caught sight of him. She ducked behind the fence to gather herself, taking a breath before she appeared in his line of sight, walking over and looking down at him.

"I don't want to hear-"

"Miss Keisha. Miss Keisha... Miss Keisha!" She looked down at Voight, making direct eye contact. "Oh, my fucking gosh, she's fucking dead."

Voight groaned, letting his head lay back on one of the steps. He may as well have hit his head, since it was pounding with a migraine from listening to the complete nonsense this woman constantly spoke.

[teetle-time]

It's Free Baby Estate

In one universe, a freshly-escaped cloud of nanobots would see a conman selling robots and imprint onto him. In this one, the nanobots would escape just a few minutes too late to see the man, and they would spend the day alone, without anyone to call their dad.

When nighttime falls, however, that's when teenage brothers come out to play.

(Or, HI THE IDEA OF THE TEETLES IMMEDIATELY ADOPTING NANO IS CONSUMING MY BRAIN)

Based on this post from @mycatateit bc the writing gremlins got to me again lmao

〜

Raph leapt across the rooftops in blessed silence. Nothing against his brothers and father, of course: Donnie was simply enamored with some new hunk of junk he'd found after they'd helped April move into her dad's antique store, Leo was helping him brainstorm possible uses, Mikey was suggesting wild comic-book-type ideas, and Splinter had gone to his room to meditate.

This all just meant that Raph needed some time to himself to try and put that advice he'd spewed at Jones the other night into action- that was to say, he needed to clear his head SO freaking bad.

He jumped a slightly large gap, tucked, and rolled, keeping his momentum going as he leapt back to his feet.

Another gap came up soon after, another jump got him over.

He happened to catch a weird flash of motion from the alley below, and it was easy for him to come to a stop on the next roof and peer down at whatever-it-was.

It was some kind of…robot.

Now, Raph really wasn't all that keen to interact with any tech that hadn't come from Don's lab, especially not after the recent run-in with Baxter Stockface or whatever-his-name-was. Even this new robot's small size didn't matter- the Mousers hadn't needed to be big to be a major pain in his shell.

However, it seemed to be vaguely person-shaped, and it was seemingly hugging its knees as it sat against the wall of the alley.

Raph scowled.

He scanned the surrounding area with a keen eye. If he went and got himself captured by humans because some Pinocchiobot or something looked sad, his brothers would never let him hear the end of it.

However, the only humans Raph could see were sitting in their apartments, engrossed with various things. An old lady knitting, a young couple leaning into each other and looking at a TV, a man bouncing a baby and singing something Raph couldn't quite make out- all of them were minding their own business, and none of them were pointed out the windows Raph could see them through.

A quick check of the rooftops revealed even fewer humans, and even the one he saw was facing the other way and tapping at a cigarette as they headed back inside their building.

Whatever this robot was, it didn't seem to be bait in a trap.

Raph scaled his way down the wall of the building he was on, and as he grew closer, he heard sniffling.

"You gotta be kidding me," he grumbled under his breath.

The sniffling immediately stopped, and when Raph glanced down, the robot was jerkily scanning the alleyway, its face frozen in a blank expression. In a synthetic voice that sounded almost nervous, it asked, "H-hell-lo?"

Aw, shell, it sounded like a toddler.

Raph knew now that there would be no escape from his brothers' teasing, though for a much different reason than he'd first thought.

Welp. In for a penny.

He let himself make noise as he hopped the last few feet to the ground, then held his empty hands up for the robot to see when it whipped around to look. "Whatcha doing out here all alone, kid?"

The robot stared at him, then asked again, "Hell-lo?"

"Yes, hello, we've already passed that part of the conversation," Raph tried not to groan.

The robot ducked its head back behind its knees. "Sor-ry."

…the robot kid just apologized to him.

The robot kid. Just apologized. To him.

"Welp, you're already the most polite pile of metal I've ever met," Raph remarked. "And trust me, I've met more than I ever thought I woulda. It's been a weird few days."

The robot peered out at him again, and while its face didn't have the ability to change shape from the simple slab it was, its tight grip on its legs loosened a bit.

"That still don't answer my question, though. Why're you out on your own?"

The robot's head dipped slowly, and it fumbled through its next word even worse than the last couple. "Alllll-lone."

Raph found himself dropping to one knee in front of it. "What, you don't got a mommy or daddy or nothing? You can't have just popped out of thin air. Where'd you come from, huh?"

All he got in response was a mechanical whine.

Raph gave the robot a quick once-over. It looked like something Raph might've built- focused entirely on function, not necessarily the prettiest piece of engineering, and (this was the most critical) unable to house any fancy-schmancy spy cameras or what-have-you.

Like, Raph was pretty sure the robot was built exclusively from the parts of one of those street conmen's cheap toys. If there was any kind of surveillance in those things, he'd eat his own shell.

"Well, how about this," Raph said. "Me and you, we don't really look like the kinds of folks that most humans wanna hang out with. I do have a family, though, my brothers and my pop. We all don't fit in, but we do it together. If…if you wanna, I can bring ya home to meet 'em."

The little robot perked up. "Fa-mi-ly?"

"That's right, kid," Raph said. He held a hand out for the kid to take. "Whaddya say?"

The kid's posture brightened, and it (he? she? they?) took his hand, standing to a full height of Barely To Raph's Hips.

Raph picked the kid up without a second thought, and once his passenger was secure against his side, he made his way to the nearest manhole. "Alright, kiddo, I mighta got here from the rooftops, but I don't really wanna drop ya, so we'll be taking the boring way home."

The kid pressed tighter against him with a small nod.

His brothers could tease him all they wanted. So long as this didn't blow up in their faces or turn out to be a ploy from Stockman after all, Raph was already too attached to the kid to care.

Much.

He hefted the cover off with his free hand, slipped inside, then gingerly slid it back into place over his head. It was a bit of a balancing act, making sure he didn't fall or drop the kid while he did so, but he managed it with a little bit of luck and a whole lot of spite.

Just the way he liked it, frankly.

He began the descent down the ladder. "So, you got a name, kiddo?"

The kid's head tilted. "Name?"

"Yeah, kid, your name," Raph said. "Like…you can call me 'Raph.' Or 'Raphael,' that's my full first name, but the only times someone calls me that is if they're trying to convince me I'm doing something rash or something. Or if I'm in trouble, heheheh."

"Raph…" murmured the kid.

Then, in a stern woman's voice, as though from an audio recording, "Codename: Nanotech."

Raph blinked. "Wait. Don't tell me that's your name!"

The kid shrank in on themself a bit as the two of them hit the bottom of the ladder.

…Raph had a sudden urge to figure out who that woman's voice belonged to.

For no reason in particular.

Just because.

Out loud, instead of telling the kid this completely true information, Raph said, "Well, that's all fine and dandy for somebody's science project, but it's a bit wordy to use for a little kid, right? What if we shorten it some? Like how I stick to 'Raph' even though it's just a part of my actual name?"

That got the kid to loosen up a bit.

Raph struck out, mentally tracing a path back to the new lair before nodding. "Yeah, what about…Nano? Short, sweet, and snappy."

The newly-nicknamed Nano nodded into his plastron. "Raph! Nano! Nano, Raph!"

Raph chuckled. "You like that, then? Thank goodness."

Nano giggled unsurely, then again with more confidence. "Nano, Raph, Nano, Raph!"

As Raph started seeing more of the fancy architecture that came with the new lair, he realized- "Aw, shell, I gotta let my family know I'm bringing you home. You mind if I make a quick phone call, Nano?"

"Fa-mi-ly," stated Nano seriously.

"I'm gonna take that as 'you're fine with it,'" Raph decided.

He fished out his shell cell and dialed Donny, who picked up after only a few rings.

"Raph, what's up?"

Raph snorted. "Alright, first order of business- you gotta promise not to laugh at me."

Donny's voice tinged with amusement. "Why?"

"So I may or may not have found a little kid robot crying in an alleyway while I was out," Raph said. "I already checked 'em over- there's no fancy-schmancy spy tech in here, just some kinda AI in a toy robot housing. Not even an evil AI like whatever the Mousers had going on, either- I'm pretty sure this kid considers itself…himself? Herself? I dunno. Kid acts and thinks like a toddler, is my point."

Donny chuckled. "Awww, did Waphie find a widdle baby?"

"Hey, watch it. Is Mikey getting in your head or something?" threatened Raph without heat. "Since this kid seems to be just that, a kid, I'm bringing 'em back to the new lair. Figured I'd give you guys a heads-up before I show up with a robot, especially after what happened with Stockman's little toys."

"Good thinking," Donny conceded. "I'll want to give this 'kid' a once-over before we officially declare them safe, for sure, just so we can try and avoid another forced move. I'll meet you just outside the lair, in the northern tunnel?"

"You got it," said Raph. "I'm coming from that direction, anyways."

"See you then," said Donny.

The call ended, and Raph pocketed the cell once more. "Y'hear that, Nano? My bro Donny wants to give you a bit of a checkup once we get there. That okay?"

"Check-up," repeated Nano quietly. Then, louder, "Doc-tor?"

"Eh, he ain't licensed, if that's what you're asking," Raph admitted. "Kinda hard to get a diploma when you're short and green and mutated all over, but he's plenty smart enough for it. He works with tech a lot, too, so he's probably the closest thing we'll get to a robot doctor. You don't gotta, but it'd help us make sure everything's going okay with you."

Nano thought it over for a long moment- long enough that Raph was starting to get nervous, he could see Donny just up ahead- then nodded. "O-kay."

Phew.

Raph grinned and turned his attention to Donny. "Alright, we're here. Let's get Nano's checkup taken care of."

Donny smirked knowingly at Raph, then softened the smile into something friendlier for Nano. "That's right. Would you be alright with Raph setting you down for a bit so I can check you over?"

Nano looked up at Raph.

Raph tried to look reassuring.

Even though those kinds of expressions had never really been in his wheelhouse, it seemed to work, because Nano nodded to Donny. "O-kay."

Raph carefully set Nano down, stepping to one side to give Donny room to work.

"So, 'Nano,' huh?" Donny asked as he knelt down, inspecting the kid's joints. "Did Raph name you?"

"Raph!" Nano said. "Nick-name!"

"Oh, really?" Donny peered nonchalantly through a gap in Nano's chest, then up to the kid's face. "Might I ask what Nano's a nickname for?"

Nano's head ducked down, and the stern woman's voice spoke again. "Codename: Nanotech."

Donny blinked, then glanced at Raph.

Raph crossed his arms. "Like I told the kid, that sounds like the kind of name somebody would give their science project, not a kid."

Pick up on what he's putting down, Don.

Donny seemed to clock what Raph wasn't saying almost immediately, if the quick flash of hardness in his eyes meant anything, but when he turned back to Nano, the steel was already shoved out of sight in favor of a warm smile. "Well, I think I'm with Raph on that one. 'Nano' definitely rolls off the tongue better."

Nano nodded. "Raph, Nano!"

Donny rocked back on his heels. "I think that's about everything we gotta check up on. Everything looks good, as far as I can tell."

Raph grinned. "Hear that, Nano? Everything's good!"

"Good! Good!"

Donny pushed himself to his feet. "Let's introduce you to the others, then, alright Nano?"

Nano nodded quickly, grabbing for Raph's hand and clinging to him tightly.

Raph gave the kid's hand a squeeze, drawing a little giggle, and oh, shell, he was so in over his head here.

Donny smirked at him again, but just turned to head into the new lair. "It's right over here."

Raph led Nano towards the arch, letting the kid hide behind his legs when Mikey, Leo, and Splinter all glanced their way.

"Hey, guys, remember how I said Raph made a friend and wanted me to check 'em over?" asked Donny, walking over to one side to leave Raph and Nano in the spotlight. "Meet Nano."

Nano peered out from behind Raph. "H-hell-lo…"

"A robot baby?" asked Mikey.

"Raph…" said Leo warningly.

"Hey, me and Don both checked the kid over already," Raph defended. "They're a robot kid I found crying alone in an alley."

He raised the ridge where his eyebrows might have been at Leo knowingly. "Pretty sure the kid built the body from scratch somehow, too. Just motors in there to move the limbs around. Nothing else."

Hint, hint.

After a second, Leo nodded, relaxing slightly. "Well, it's not like we're not used to the unusual around here."

Mikey grinned. "You can say that again!"

Splinter got to his feet and walked over to Raph and Nano. "How curious."

Nano looked up at Raph, the grip on his hand tightening.

"It's okay, kiddo, this is my dad," Raph said quietly. "This is Master Splinter."

"Dad…" Nano thought for a moment, then looked back at Splinter. "Dad-dy?"

Splinter's eyes widened, then he smiled. "I would be honored to be your father, little one."

Nano gasped, then let go of Raph's hand to waddle up to Splinter. "Dad-dy! Dad-dy!"

If anybody asked Raph later, he most definitely did not smile to himself as Splinter gave the kid a hug, and he certainly didn't feel a warm lightness in his chest at the sight.

"Hey, if Splinter's adopting you, then that makes us your big brothers!" realized Mikey.

"Hm, that's right," Splinter agreed. "I see you already know Raphael and Donatello, but the other two are Leonardo and Michelangelo."

"You can just call me Mikey, though, little dude!" declared he, hopping over to join the little group.

As Mikey, Splinter, and Nano walked over to the couch, chatting to each other, Leo stepped closer to Raph and Don, speaking lowly. "How'd a toddler-bot capable of building a body end up in an alleyway?"

"I dunno, but if I had to guess, whoever built the kid wasn't trying to build a kid," Raph said.

"When I asked Nano's name, Nano played what sounded like a recording of someone saying 'Codename: Nanotech,'" Donny added. "Whoever made this kid, they operate under some kind of official protocol, be it legal or otherwise. My money's on Nano either escaping or getting scrapped for not working the way those people wanted them to."

Leo frowned. "Nanotech, huh? Why the not-very-microscopic body, then, you think?"

Mikey's voice gasped in awe, and the three of them turned to look as a cloud of silvery somethings rose from Nano and engulfed Donny's latest whatchama-hoozie-doodle, pulling it into Nano's body. After a few moments, the cloud settled back into wherever-it-had-been, and Nano's face turned to them and smiled.

Because Nano's face wasn't a solid plate anymore, instead being made of a few plates around the eyes and mouth that could now move on their own.

"That answer your question?" murmured Raph. Then, louder, as he flashed a thumbs-up, "Looking good, kid!"

Donny smiled wearily. "I guess that's one way to settle the debate about what I was gonna use that for."

Nano beamed and went back to whatever was going on with Mikey- oh, crud, Mikey was already turning the kid into a comic book addict.

"Right, well, I'll leave the serious tech talk to you two," Raph said, narrowing his eyes at Mikey. "I need to relieve Mikey of his Nano privileges."

Mikey blinked innocently, even pointing a finger at himself as if to say 'moi?'

"Jurassic Park is where it's at, Mikey, not your comics!" Raph pressed, striding over and hopping onto the couch. "Master Splinter, y'mind if I take the TV and show Nano some true art? I think the tape's still in there from last night. It's not a perfect adaptation of the book, but I dunno if the kid can read yet."

Splinter chuckled. "I don't see why not."

"Raph!" said Nano, hopping up next to him on the cushion and shuffling over until he had an armful of robot.

Raph just gave Nano a pat and settled in, digging the remote out of the cushions. "I'm right here, kid."

Nano smiled up at him, then turned to face the TV as Raph switched to the VCR and started rewinding.

Mikey started snickering, but Raph just flicked him in the forehead without even looking.

"Ow! Hey!"

Raph chuckled to himself, and Nano giggled with him after a few seconds.

Ooh, yeah, Raph would tear the world down for this kid, alright.

[elgaladwen]

Younger Days - Nimardril

I wasn't sure where to start with fics since I have so many (most of which I won't ever post) but I decided to stick with the LOTRO universe for now, so here's a short little one about bratty/emo Nim when she was much younger. Curonthos is another of my characters who was friends with her deceased father, and tried to set her on the right path after her parents were gone. More about Nimardril is here.

"Do you want to end up like your father?" Curonthos hissed as he grasped Nimardril's shoulders, relieved that she felt solid beneath his palms, yet disheartened by how much the flash of defiance in her dark eyes reminded him of her father.

"I killed them all, didn't I?" She answered belligerently, sounding for all the world like a petulant child, and causing him to remember how very young she actually was.

She should be safe in Caras Galadhon, learning from books, or perhaps in the training yard, not out here covered in the blood of orcs she'd just dispatched, seeing things hard for even adults to see. Why had Firithdir decided to take her along with him from such a young age? She seemed to be a natural with bow and blade, sure, but not much else in life, and he worried for her future.

Curonthos sighed, already regretting his words twofold. Firithdir hadn't gotten killed by being reckless, but rather an orc archer getting a particularly lucky shot, and he shouldn't try to scare Nimardril by invoking her father's death. She seemed so keen on putting herself in harm no matter what he tried to tell her, though, and all he could do was teach her better techniques, so that she might more easily survive. And who was he to deprive them of a good fighter, who wished to be there, when so many did not?

"You did. But please wait for the others next time." He admonished in a more gentle tone. "It would be a a great pity if you were taken-"

She shrugged out of his grasp with a noise of disapproval. "I'll just have to not let myself get taken, then, huh?" She moved past him back toward the treeline, and the safety of the Wood, not once having met his gaze.

Hanging his head for a moment, Curonthos wondered if he'd messed up somewhere, or if there'd ever been any hope for her at all. It had been easy enough for he and Luinlalaith to say they'd look out for Nimardril when her mother had left Lothlórien in an attempt to join Firithdir in the Undying Lands, even imagining she might be something like the child he had never given Luinlalaith, yet that was not to be. The girl grew more angry and wild by the day, and the only thing he found to channel her emotions and energy was to keep training her, and letting her help with duties at the border. Luinlalaith tried to get her interested in other things closer to home, but it never worked, and both of them despaired. He could only hope that in time, she might grow more calm, or at least more keen on self preservation. Truly he worried that he would fail the daughter, just as he had the father, and so long ago, his brother too.

~~~

Nimardril kicked the door shut behind her, cursing as she tried to brush a strand of hair from her face, still stiff with dark blood. It had been a quick, and thankfully uneventful trek back home from the border, and Curonthos had even suggested she come back to he and his wife's flet for a bath and a meal, but she had refused, just wanting to be alone.

Alone. That's what she was here, in this home that was once her family's. In this forest. In this world.

She knew she should be kinder to her father's friends, they were only trying to help her, yet it felt as if they were trying to replace her parents, and why should she have parents, if hers were gone? Sometimes she wondered if she should have gone westward with her mother, but she had refused, stupidly thinking she could avenge her father somehow.

As her eyes took in the dim mess of the room, she sank down against the door, an unbearable tightness in her chest threatening to burst its way out. This place had once felt so safe to her. She could remember coming in with her father after walking in the woods, having fresh bread baked by her mother, all of them gathered by the hearth to talk and tell tales.

Now the hearth was dark, and the chairs broken in a fit of rage some months ago. She felt a little ashamed of that, and thought maybe to repair them, yet she just couldn't muster the energy to truly care. She didn't want the chairs, or this house with its taunting memories of a happy time. She just wanted to be fighting orcs, or at least hunting. Those were the only times she felt good or useful, and her father had always been proud of her skills.

She looked to the toppled bookcase, the tomes her parents had so lovingly collected strewn about the floor. She had promised her mother she'd continue her studies, but she'd stopped everything that wasn't related to scouting or fighting. She could read and write, she reasoned. She didn't need to do it well, though she did miss having stories told to her, and the comfort of them helping her relax.

With a sigh, she picked herself up off the floor, trudging to the washbasin in a kitchenette now empty of food. She found the washbasin empty too, and somehow this broke some last thread of control within her, and she began to sob, her hot tears making tracks upon her dirty face, and plinking into the basin one by one, as if she could fill it with her sorrow.

Of course it was empty. She'd not filled it before she left, just as she'd not bothered to clean the house, bring up wood for a fire, or stock the pantry. Her parents had done all of that, and though it was certainly well within her own capabilities, she missed having someone take care of her.

For the second time that night, she found herself on the floor, this time struggling to breathe as the sobs forced their way painfully up her throat. She tried to calm her galloping heart. She tried to tell herself that she certainly did not need anyone to take care of her, but it didn't work, at least until exhaustion won out, and her crumbled from, knees hugged to hollow chest, drifted into the land of dreams, where she still sometimes found wonder.

[homoeroticgrappling]

Revolution is going to be emotional

Or: me reflecting on wrestling and Sting, under the cut

Revolution marks the anniversary of the first time I sat down to watch AEW, I got invited by a friend who was into wrestling to come hang out for the PPV weekend and watch it as a social thing and figured why not? We spent the day before doing a crash course for me (and the one other non-wrestling fan in the room) so we'd know who we were going to see at the PPV and what storylines were going on so we could follow and pick who we wanted to root for. One single clip with Danhausen in the background tipped me from intrigued to actively invested, I stayed up all night catching up on things and when the PPV started I was so excited to watch even if I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I got into wrestling in a big way immediately, I haven't missed a show since then and I've met so many incredible people through wrestling especially here on tumblr, including the love of my life. (Wish I could time travel and try to explain to my past self that thanks to a wrestling demon with a thing for teeth and his hoodie wearing, chip chomping tag partner I met the most incredible person, wrestling is such a wild thing to explain without context) I guess people are right when they say wrestling really does bring people together, it definitely changed my life for the better

Before that point, the most I'd done was keep loose tabs on Rhea Ripley after seeing clips of a match of hers late 2018, but I hadn't thought wrestling was "my thing" so I never tried engaging with it more. I didn't grow up with it, I wasn't allowed to watch it when I was younger, the most I can remember interacting with wrestling as a child is getting to play with a friend's action figures when we were maybe 9. I couldn't for the life of you tell you who most of them were supposed to be, there's only one that stuck out in my memory enough for me to know who it was: Sting. I didn't know who he was, but I had a cool goth uncle so I wanted to play with that one because it looked like the guy in that movie my uncle liked. I remember my friend excitedly telling me "HE'S THE BEST ONE" and showing me how to pretend swoop down from the rafters of an imaginary venue so I could properly play Sting.

I can remember watching AEW when I was a new fan and didn't know anyone and going "I know him!" Sting's reach extended beyond wrestling fans, and although I didn't know much about his career I knew he was a big deal. I watched his run in AEW, I got recommended matches of his throughout his career to check out, and I could see why they called him the icon. When I spoke to people who watched wrestling when they were younger but didn't keep up with it, they'd ask if there was anyone they'd know and I'd always immediately say Sting, usually getting a response along the lines of "wow, he's still going? I used to love him"

(I also managed to meet some people at an event for All In 2023 and discussed with them my ranking of Sting eras by most attractive, because I am not immune to an attractive person in face paint. Then maybe 15 minutes later as we were waiting for the elevator to leave the hotel, who should come up also wanting to leave but the man himself. I have never gone so silent in my LIFE I swear, made panicked eye contact with our little group, and as soon as he'd gone on his way I got asked if I was okay, as if I hadn't just felt my life flash before my eyes)

Like a lot of people, I haven't known the world of professional wrestling without Sting in it, and it's going to be strange for him to not be there anymore. So many wrestlers are posting tributes, he paved the way for the current era of professional wrestling in America and he has inspired so many people. Seeing the outpouring of love and sharing of memories it seems like everyone is united in celebrating not only his career, but the man behind it as well. Although it's bittersweet knowing tonight will be his last match, I'm grateful I got into wrestling in time to see him wrestle live in person and see him go out on his own terms, happy and healthy. Knowing he got to decide how he wanted this to go, who he wanted to wrestle with and against, it doesn't matter to me what my personal feelings might be on if I would've picked this for his last match because it's what he wanted, and Sting always delivers an entertaining match.

I hope we all have fun, but most importantly I hope Sting has fun in his last match before retirement. He's earned it.

[picnokinesis]

Hello! I am back with more songs >:)

Caves from the main playlist

Epilogue from the teen playlist

Weave from the anterograde playlist

Heck yes >:D Also loving how, once again, you've picked one song that is like, THE SONG of the playlist, and then another where I'm like 'wait why did I put that one on again....' and then I relisten and I'm like oh. oh yeah.

Caves by Gregory Alan Isakov is one of THE earliest campervan au songs. I discovered it in about June 2020, and immediately wrote a scene for part 9 that has had ripple effects all the way back to part 3. I trust you all remember this part from Chapter 11 of Part 3, when the Doctor looks through the photos that were in the shoebox that Brax gave to her:

Compare this to the lyrics of Caves:

And I used to love caves Stumble out into that big sky Remember that bright hollow moon? Showed our insides on our outsides

This song is all about the Doctor and Koschei's childhood - in fact, the ONLY REASON the cave thing happens in the story is because of this song hahah. But it's also how much things have changed between them - this rift that now exists because of the Doctor's amnesia:

You go ahead There's something I forgot Walk slow and I'll catch up Let's hear the stars do their talking

And also:

Did I hear something break Was that your heart or my heart Like when the Earth shakes Then the silence that follows

The second one in particular is great because of the whole thing with the four taps - which, of course, in campervan au is meant to represent the Doctor's heartbeat and Koschei's together, one after the other. But the first one is almost like, I guess almost post-canon I guess - if these two could actually sit down and talk to each other about everything that happened, everything the Doctor has forgotten, they'd probably be able to reconcile somewhat. But emotions are far too intense for both of them. Koschei, like the Master in the show, has had his sense of identity completely shaken by the Doctor not being defined by him in the same way that he is defined by her. She's everything that he is, and his entire life is defined by her - in many ways literally, since he certainly wouldn't have gone to prison if it hadn't been for her, and even in [redacted] au where that doesn't happen, he still ends up dedicating his entire life to her in other ways. But she doesn't even remember him. (...the silence that follows...)

And then there's this part, which just makes me think of these two kids messing about, causing trouble around Skelmanthorpe, sneaking out to explore caves, and being able to just be with each other, not worrying about all the things that have hurt them and made them who they are, and being simply understood by each other without needing words.

This town closes down same time everyday Put out the smoke in your mind Let's put all these words away Lets put all these words away

Weave by Foxing is, I think, the first song by Foxing that I heard? Which is wild, because I'm obsessed with their later album (aka Draw Down the Moon, aka the most thoschei album of all time). Oh wait no, actually, I think it was possibly a different song on this same album that was recommended by spotify at the bottom of my anterograde au playlist. I remember that I liked the vibes but it didn't quite fit, so I went to listen to the rest of the album to see if there would be anything more suitable - only to find Weave, the first track, was absolutely perfect:

How have I been stuck here for so long?

In anterograde au, the Doctor can't feel time - she can't form new memories, so every day she wakes up, still thinking that it's late September 2018. She's stuck in that time and can't change that fact, and every day that fact becomes more and more disorientating. The more time that passes, the more jarring and obvious the loss of memory is.

Selling out an old soul for sales I am caught up in the guilt Making a living off of drowning Leaves me one step in the wrong Have I been stuck here for so long?

The other problem with her inability to feel time is her ability to heal. In the main au, the Doctor can't move on from what happened to her as a teenager because she doesn't remember it. In anterograde, she remembers it, but can't remember the healing itself. Koschei has a bit of a breakdown about this, when he realises that now she's always going to be trapped in this place of fear and confusion, and never going to be able to escape it. If you remember how much he wanted to save the Doctor from the analysis of the song Delilah, the idea of him failing to save her as a teenager is bad enough, but in this au, not only did he not save her now, she is now trapped in this place for the rest of her life, and that's like...the worst possible outcome, as far as he's concerned. Not only did he not save her, but he never will be able to save her. He can't fix it.

As it turns out, he's somewhat wrong about this. Pretty sure I said this when I was talking about The Funeral, but the Doctor DOES begin to heal, albeit slowly and albeit without her being consciously aware of it. But the brain remembers in other ways, and it's about two or so years in before someone points out that actually, the Doctor is more relaxed around Koschei that it clicks for him.

The winding love of life lost No longer haunted by the thought That every mark I make on emeralds are now One step in the wrong One step in the wrong One step in the wrong I’m alright, it’s time I moved on

Epilogue by The Antlers is a lot haha. I mean, this entire album is a lot, and means so much to campervan au, but this one in particular. I can't actually go too much into this one for the same reasons that I can't pull apart the song Two from the same album, but I'm just going to put these lyrics here and tell you to think about the Doctor's fear of hospitals, the way Koschei so desperately wants to save someone who won't let themselves be saved, the fact that the entire album uses this narrative of a hospice and the relationship between a nurse and a patient as a metaphor for abuse, and how both the Doctor and Koschei are constantly haunted by each other:

In a nightmare I am falling from the ceiling into bed beside you You're asleep I'm screaming, shoving you to try to wake you up And like before You've got no interest in the life you live when you're awake Your dreams still follow storylines Like fictions you would make So I lie down against your back Until we're both back in the hospital But now it's not a cancer ward We're sleeping in the morgue Men and women in blue and white They are singing all around you With heavy shovels holding earth You're being buried to your neck In that hospital bed Being buried quite alive now I'm trying to dig you out But all you want is to be buried there together

Oh, and this bit works for the main au, in the context of Koschei and the Doctor bed-sharing for ages until suddenly they weren't, but really it's for [redacted] because it's painfully accurate:

I've woken up, I'm in our bed But there's no breathing body there beside me Someone must have taken you while I was stuck asleep But I know better as my eyes adjust You've been gone for quite awhile now

ALSO! This part ends up creeping into my writing so much. I actually think it ended up in Ruth's chapter?

But you return to me at night Just when I think I may have fallen asleep Your face is up against mine And I'm too terrified to speak

Yep, it was in Ruth's chapter from Part 6 Chapter 22 (Postscript II) - but I've definitely used this for thoschei too, and I'll bet it's around somewhere in campervan au. It just might be in a scene that's on my excerpts document that never sees the light of day rip. But this album by The Antlers is important to Ruth's backstory too, as well as thoschei's, so the parallel here is very intentional

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Reflections

Chapter Six

Master List / Real People Master List / Reflections Master List

Pairing: Mia MacAlsdair x Au Tom Hiddleston

Warnings: language, 18+ Minors do not interact

A/N: I apologize in advance should my Scottish/English interpretations be incorrect. I am Canadian playing in a world of my own making. Do not @ me.

**I do not tag. **To be notified of updates and new works, subscribe to me or the story on AO3 for email notification, or follow the library blog @tilltheendwilliwrite-library  with notifications turned on so you’re not missing out. An account is required to access my work on AO3. For more information on how to get your FREE AO3 account, see this post.

~

Tom stared at the shaking door, rattling on its hinges from the woman's ire. 

Never meet your heroes. 

What did that even mean? How the hell was he that woman's hero? 

He scrubbed his hand over his mouth. "Fuck." He was such an arse. 

That hadn't gone the way he intended. Yes, he wanted to warn her off Kip, but he meant to do so sternly without insult. Instead, he'd insulted her entirely and did so with all the grace of a stampeding ox. 

But she'd thrown him off. 

Kip spent the last weeks talking about Mia MacAlasdair every chance he got. They emailed. They texted. He giggled like an utter buffoon acting the smitten pup whenever her name popped into his phone. It was the same - or nearly - that he'd done with Serina. 

He wouldn't allow his brother to throw away three years of love and his new family for some fling! 

Two weeks of waiting for this moment, watching Kip make a fool of himself, and listening to Emma wax poetic about how nice their new resident Mia had only increased his rage. 

Then, she walked through the door. 

Shock at the absolute beauty of her left him mute. Her chin just reached Kip's shoulders, and her dazzling smile carried all the way to ocean-blue eyes. Her alabaster skin was liberally brushed with freckles as if someone kissed her flesh with gold dust, then returned and did it again. The gold repeated in her copper hair, the strands a little wild where they rested on her shoulders. 

She wore jeans that caressed curves made for a man's hands and a wool jumper he would bet money was knit by Agatha Barnes, the village fibre artist. She had a distinct way of layering colours that should appear garish but always seemed to work out in the end. Still, it did little to hide the swell of generous breasts when Mia crouched to set her work down. 

She had thighs that could suffocate a man. 

The glory of her seized his tongue, rendering him all but mute.

Then Kip started in and renewed his rage when he got to watch her flirt, touch, and tease his brother. Did she have no shame?

Then, when he called her out on her behaviour, she played her part to the nines, denied everything, and left in a huff. 

Still, what was that parting remark?

The door swung open with a bang and made him wince. Did no one remember the castle was old?

"What the fuck did you do?"

As it was only half a minute since Mia left, he imagined Kip saw enough of her exit to deduce they'd argued. 

"I fixed your mistake before you made it," Tom replied calmly, eyeing the package leaning against his desk. 

"Fixed my- What mistake?" Kip frowned. 

"Come off it, Kip! You were halfway to an indiscretion, and you know it!" Tom bellowed. 

His jaw dropped. "You think that I- that Mia and I-" He barked a short laugh, then thrust his hand through his hair as he began to pace. "Of course, you do because, for some reason, you believe I'm still twenty and stupid! You right wank! What did you say to her?"

Tom scowled. "Please, Kip. I've seen you work. I know how you treat women. What would Serina think of your new side piece?"

Kip threw up his hands. "She knows, you fucking cock! She knows all about Mia, her art, and I commissioned a piece for her. She's read the emails and texts and even texted Mia herself. Fuck, you're a piece of work! You could have asked, but no! You assumed the worst of me again and arsed it up!"

Tom blinked at him in surprise. "What?"

"Mia isn't some home-wrecking, gold-digging hussy! God dammit, Tom! Tell me you didn't threaten her? Tell me, for the love of Highpark, you did not put your hands on her!"

He hadn't seen Kip this upset in a long time and slowly came to the realization he'd muffed it. Badly. "I… may have grabbed her arm when she went to walk away."

Kip's face paled, then burned a scary sort of red. "You. Did. What?"

"I didn't hurt her and let go when she told me to."

Kip scrubbed his hands over his face. "People in the village talk to Emma. Cora talks to Emma. But everyone talks when there is gossip to have. The only person who doesn't listen to that gossip is you!" he roared, shaking his fist. "If you bothered to listen, you would know Mia arrived at Ashwood Farm sporting a week-old shiner lovingly given to her by her ex-fiance!" 

Tom stumbled back and sat on the edge of his desk. "What?"

"You put hands on an abused woman. You accused the sweetest, kindest, gentlest woman of being a homewrecker. And do you know the worst of it all?" 

Tom didn't need to respond, knowing Kip would tell him whether he wanted to hear it or not. Kip mad was something to see, but a quiet mad Kip was damn scary. 

He crossed the room to scowl out the window. "She didn't have a clue who I was when we met until I teased her with a few movie titles. She recognized Ragnarok, the only movie of mine she knew was Thor fucking Ragnarok because "she liked the other guy better." The one who played Loki first."

His jaw dropped. "What? She actually knew there was a difference?" So many people had no idea they'd switched him out for Kip until the press tours started, and his brother was praised for doing such a good job. 

Loki's army, virtually en masse and overnight, became Kip's fans instead. He didn't want to admit how much that hurt when replacing him in the industry he once adored seemed so easy. 

"She knew. She said you had passion. She called your scene with Chris during Avengers magic. That single tear when you sneered sentiment was magic."

Tom frowned. He may be flattered, but he'd had his fair share of obsessed crazies back in the day. 

"Fuck off, don't even," Kip huffed before he could ask. "Emma's been poking at her, but she didn't even know your name until we informed her that the previous Loki was our brother Tom. She doesn't watch movies often, and what telly she enjoys appears to be of the home improvement genre."

Just then, thunder cracked loudly over the house, causing the windows to rattle and lights to flicker. 

"Bloody hell!" Kip cursed. "It's like the skies opened!"

Tom glanced out the window and watched it come down in sheets. "I'll find Mia and apologize. She said she was having tea with Emma."

Kip squinted. "Not anymore. She's driving off."

"In this?" Tom barked. 

"Seems she's desperate to leave. Wonder why that could be?" Kip snapped. 

Tom was running before he made the conscious thought to do so. 

~

Mia muttered curses on the head of Tom Hiddleston as she drove slowly around the castle. It was like a wall of water falling on her, making it nearly impossible for the wipers to keep up. As the humidity climbed, the condensation inside the cab made the widows foggy, but she couldn't make the defog work in Henry's truck. 

She glanced down to try and find the right button again, glanced up to make sure she wasn't going to drive off the road, and stomped both feet on the brake, causing the truck to skid to a stop, sputter, and die. 

A man was heaving for breath, bare inches from becoming a hood ornament. 

Mia shoved open the door, leaned into the downpour and screamed, "Are you out of your corn-fed mind!"

Tom rounded the side of the vehicle and stood in the open doorway. "You're the one who nearly hit me."

"You ran out in front of my vehicle in the pouring rain! Gods, do you have a death wish on top of being an asshole?" she shrieked, now mad and wet. 

He squinted, hair dripping, nose dripping. 

Why was he still so pretty?

"I thought Kip said you were Canadian. Aren't Canadians supposed to be ridiculously nice?"

She glared and snapped, "We're perfectly lovely until you piss in our timbits!"

He arched a brow. "That was decidedly rude. How very unCanadian of you."

Incised, Mia leaned out the door, subjecting herself to the rain to get nose-to-nose with him. "Don't you know the Geneva Convention was created because Canadians decided rules of engagement were more like suggestions? So test me, Hiddleston. See what happens."

His grin spread quickly. Then he laughed. 

It wasn't fair. No man should look that good soaking wet, nor should a laugh make things that were hella dormant wake up and stretch. Her freaking ovaries quivered at the sound. 

"If you're just going to bray like an ass, I'll thank you to shut the door," she huffed. 

He didn't quit laughing but reached inside, put the truck in park, and stole the keys. 

"What the fuck?" Mia muttered, too stunned to stop him. 

"You flooded it. You won't be going anywhere for a time. Might as well come in, get dry, and have tea with my sister. Besides, you're so mad you didn't even realize you're driving on the wrong side of the road." 

She eyed his offered hand like a snake waiting to bite her. "This one-eighty you've done is giving me whiplash. Did you crack your head at some point during your sprint through the castle? How many fingers am I holding up?" She held up three. 

His smile faded into something that looked a lot like contrition. "Mia." He leaned into the cab so the rain bounced off his back instead of his head. "I owe you a massive apology. Kip explained that I had it all wrong, that you and he are only a strange sort of friends," he smiled a little, "and I'm a tosser for putting my hands on you after what you went through before you came here."

Mia blinked. "Is a tosser an asshole?"

"A supreme one," he chuckled. 

"Then I accept your apology," she nodded. "And don't worry about the grabbing my arm thing. If you hadn't let go, I would have made you." He frowned and glanced between her eyes as if looking for bruising. "I left because he hit me. It was once, and he only succeeded because he surprised me. Colt's thing was words and subtle barbs, not fists."

"It shouldn't have been either, love," he murmured. 

Oh, that was a dangerous word and a wholly unreasonable feeling it produced when he said it. 

"No man has the right to touch a woman in violence." He stepped back out in the rain and held out his hand again. "Come on. If we run, it won't be so bad."

Mia looked at the sky and back at him. "I'm half soaked just sitting here. I'll be fully wet getting out!"

A slow grin crawled across his lips. "Then let's get wet, love."

Large red danger signs flashed in her mind, but Mia was already reaching for his hand. He tugged her into the rain and right up against him so he could shut the door to the truck, then stared down at her for a half second more as Mia licked her lips, tasting the rain. 

His eyes darkened, but he turned on his heels and dragged her into a sprint that took them around the side of the castle to an open set of patio doors. 

Once inside, with the rain shut out, they stood dripping on the hardwood of an extremely fancy parlour and stared at each other for long heartbeats as water plopped on the floor. 

"I'm dripping-"

Tom hummed and flexed his hands.

"-all over your floor." 

His dark gaze raked down her body and back up, locking with her eyes as he murmured, "Then let's get you out of those clothes."

She reached for his hand, but instead of following him, she used his arm to steady herself as she toed out of her shoes and peeled off her wet socks. 

"That won't help the trail we leave behind," he chuckled. 

Mia shrugged. "It's the polite thing to do."

He shook his head before following her lead, unlacing short boots and peeling off wet socks. 

She looked away. A barefoot man should not be sexy. Why the hell was it so sexy?

When he offered his hand, his smile knowing, she took it, allowing him to lead her where he would, packing her dripping shoes and socks along with her. 

~

Mia sat in a parlour out of Downton Abbey, warm wool socks on her feet, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a sweater lent to her by Tom. It was a weird way to end up in a man's clothes, borrowed after being thoroughly soaked, thanks to him, but it wasn't as if she could wear Emma's. 

Upon seeing them dripping down the hall, his sister's shriek of distress had echoed and caused every servant within hearing distance - which was quite a lot - to pour into the hall and gape as the Lord of Highpark walked barefoot and soggy toward the stairs. 

He scolded Emma for making a scene, but it lacked conviction when Emma rounded crossly on him and launched into a beautiful dressing down. It tickled Mia to no end to hear Emma call her brother a slew of names in her cultured accent and then demand he apologize. 

Mia snickered when he sheepishly said he already had, earning a side-eye and amused smirk that made her shiver. 

Emma scoffed but immediately began to fuss, insisting Mia be led upstairs and allowed to shower before she 'caught her death,' then insisted Tom provide alternate clothing as there was no way Mia could borrow any of hers. 

Mia wanted to protest but knew it was stupid. She was soaked to the bones and gratefully agreed, as the idea of standing under hot running water was appealing. 

Still clinging to Tom's hand - as he wouldn't let her go - Mia climbed their fancy stairs, trying not to stare like a ninny. 

Emma and no less than three maids separated her from Tom, herding her in one direction as his fingers lingered, skimming her palm as he reluctantly released her. 

She glanced back in time to watch him walk the other way. Her traitorous heart fluttered when he flexed his hand, making her wonder if his also tingled. 

Emma insisted she give over her clothes so they could be washed and dried. 

After much fussing, they returned downstairs, where Mia was bundled before the fireplace, given a lap quilt, tea, and cookies. 

The entire experience was surreal. 

"You're sure he apologized?" Emma fretted, scowling at the door as if Tom would appear at any moment. 

He hadn't. The clothes were waiting on the bed when she got out of the shower, but since then, she hadn't seen so much as a hair of the oldest Hiddleston. 

"He did. Though, I gave him what for first. Who runs out in front of a moving vehicle?" Mia grumbled, nibbling the edge of her lemon-flavoured cookie. 

Emma glanced at the door again and sighed. "Tom doesn't like any of us driving in weather like this. That's how accidents happen."

“Accidents?” Mia murmured. 

The wane smile on Emma's lips slipped. "Our parents were killed in a storm like this. A car lost control, sending them off the road. The crash killed them both instantly."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I lost my parents to a house fire."

Emma gasped. "Oh, Mia! I knew they passed when you were young, but I didn't know how. Were you home at the time?"

She shook her head. "I was sleeping over at my friend's house. The police woke her parents, and they had to tell me. I was eleven. Someone said they died of smoke inhalation in their sleep. It was unlikely they ever woke up before…" She swallowed thickly and looked away. 

"At least there is that," Emma smiled. 

"Small comforts when you're little," she sighed, then shook her head. "Well, this conversation turned morbid."

Emma chuckled. "Should I ask about your ex and get all the ugly out of the way?"

"There's not much to tell there. Colt and I met in the last year of university. At first, he was amazing. I didn't have a lot of friends growing up in foster care, and unfortunately, you hit eighteen, and you're on your own. I worked a few years first to save money for school, went back late, but got my fine arts degree. A fat lot of good it does you though. It's not the most sought-after degree in the job market." Mia rolled her eyes, causing Emma to snort. "He was in his last year of law. We became friends and then started dating. Two years later, I moved in with him. Everything changed with the pandemic."

"It was hard, even on us." Mia frowned, but Emma shrugged. "Running Highpark is expensive, but we love it. We do what we can to keep it going."

"I should know that. So many places like this have turned to tours and rental options to keep them afloat. Plus, I've seen your website."

Emma scoffed. "Hack job of a cut and paste." She cast Mia a devious side-eye. "Perhaps an art major would be willing to give us a hand?"

Mia chuckled. "I majored in fine art, not computer design, but I can help with colour theory if you want."

"I want," Emma begged. "I feel like a five-year-old designed that thing."

"You?" Mia snickered. 

"Kip," she scoffed. 

Mia giggled. "Well, that makes perfect sense."

"An artist he is not," Emma chuckled. "He tried, but that's not his cuppa."

"You didn't want a professional to do it?"

Emma sighed and slumped against the sofa back. "At the time, we couldn't. We didn't know how bad it was before Mum and Dad died. I was gone, married to Ethan already. Tom was off being a rising star, with Kip chasing his heels. You can imagine the shock when, after the funeral, we discovered Highpark was so close to foreclosure that the bank was breathing down our collective necks. But we couldn't let it go. It's our home, all we've known, and so much of our history is wrapped up here. Tom gave up his career to come home and sort it but insisted Kip keep striving for his dreams. He tried to stop Ethan and I from moving back, but I insisted. Besides, Highpark is good for the boys."

She had sent the kids off to pester Kip, causing peels of laughter to reverberate down the hall at odd intervals. 

Emma explained that the eastern wing of the castle was strictly for family, whereas the western wing and great hall were open to the public. After a few months, they brought in the cafe and expanded into weddings, resulting in a smashing success, rapidly bringing Highpark back into the black. 

Now, with Ethan and Tom working on bettering the bloodline of the stud - something their family had run for generations but her father showed little interest in, allowing it to falter - they had two thriving businesses that weathered the chaos of Covid quite well. 

Mia could tell Emma was very proud of her family, especially her brother Tom and his sacrifices to save their family home.

"Sadly, Colt and I didn't weather the pandemic," Mia sighed, accepting another cookie and a sandwich for her plate before thrusting her hand through her hair. 

"It was bad?"

"It didn't start out that way. I think the forced proximity, working from home, constantly in each other's space grated on him. We had a decent-sized apartment, but there's only so many places you can go in fourteen hundred square feet."

Emma winced. "I suppose there is."

"I made a lot of excuses for him, missed a lot of red flags." Mia watched the fire crackle in the fireplace. "Some I didn't even see until I was on a plane halfway across the Atlantic reflecting on what happened. He started seeing someone else a year ago."

"He cheated? That bastard!" Emma cried. 

Mia flashed her a halfhearted smile. "It was pretty clear we were only going through the motions by then. There was no intimacy. We barely spoke to each other. I tried, but he would yell, scream really, and punch walls." Sighing, she rubbed her forehead. "I should have left when that started, but I had a shit job that barely covered my costs and no way of affording a place on my own. I didn't even have a car to live out of because I always used city transit."

Letting her head fall back on the sofa, Mia stared at the ceiling, very high and decorated with fancy plaster. 

"What about other friends?"

The self-deprecating laugh escaped before she could stop it. "Didn't have any."

"No one?" Emma whispered, taken aback. 

Mia sighed. "I'm… a bit quirky. My brain doesn't work like everyone else's. It's easy for me to fall into a project and stay there until someone pulls me out. The single-minded focus can be acute to the point that I don't see anyone or anything else until it's done. Friends would reach out, but when I stopped reaching back… they gave up. I never meant to ignore them; it just happens."

"People are shit."

Mia glanced at Emma. The sympathy, understanding, and annoyance invading her face was a surprise. 

"I understand better than you think," she sighed, picking at the sleeve of her sweater. "You wouldn't know, but I'm not the typical lady of the manor. I was a bit of a disappointment to my parents, a little too loud, too exuberant, too fanciful. They didn't understand me. Thankfully, Kip, Tom, and Ethan do. We moved back from the north, and like you, I lost most of the friends I made when I was no longer 'available' because Highpark became my focus."

"I wondered," Mia teased. "You don't remind me of Lady Mary Crawley at all."

Emma burst out laughing. "Oh, thank the universe for that!"

Mia chuckled, ate her sandwich, and groaned. "Gods, everyone's bread tastes like freaking ambrosia."

"Bread doesn't taste good in Canada?" Emma snickered. 

Mia shook her head. "Store bought isn't the same. I swear Cora's going to make me fat."

"Oh, please! You're a stick compared to my hips!"

"Besides, with that fiery temperament, you would burn off everything you eat."

The comment came from the doorway where Tom leaned against the frame. 

Casually dressed in dark pants and a blue polo shirt that matched the colour of his eyes, he smiled to indicate he was teasing before stalking into the room in a pair of well-worn boots with a black jacket slung over his arm. His curls were slightly more russet than Kip's and tumbled over his forehead, giving a boyish bent to his impish grin.

The man was not allowed to look so damn fine. 

"I assure you I'm perfectly polite on most occasions. It's not my fault you're cynical," she smirked. 

He raised his free hand in a gesture of surrender. "Yes, alright. I admit I was an arse in the worst way possible. I thought you'd forgiven me. Perhaps I was mistaken?"

Mia lifted her chin at his raised eyebrow. "Maybe I like watching you grovel?"

"Should I get down on my knees and beg, love?"

"I thought you were the one demanding everyone kneel?" she quipped, sipping the last of her tea. 

Tom stalked across the room, braced his hands on the arms of her chair, and leaned in. "Is that how you speak to a God?"

Mia barked a quickly covered laugh. "You'd be surprised." 

There was a flicker of confusion before his grin spread. "Cheeky wench."

She gasped in mock affront. "Wench! How dare you?"

Tom laughed and stood, shaking his head. "And here I keep expecting to find this polite Canadian Kip speaks of."

"We're polite, not pushovers," Mia snickered. 

Gods, she could smell him now. Citrus and musk, something orangey and masculine that made her insides quiver like jello.

"Are you interrupting for a reason, Thomas?" Emma asked, clearly amused by both of them.

"The rain ended. I thought Mia might like to see the rest of Highpark now that we are no longer in danger of floating away."

His blue eyes offered a challenge Mia was helpless to resist. "I'm not sure my clothes will be dry yet."

"Then wear mine," he practically purred, hand outstretched. "We'll borrow you a pair of wellies if yours are still damp and be off."

Mia studied him for a moment before glancing at Emma. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all!" she beamed, popping up from her seat like a Jack-in-the-box. "Have fun, you two!"

Mia blinked after her retreating back in surprise. "She's… spritely."

Tom snickered. "Emma is chaos personified in a person. She's a whirlwind, capable of bending people to her will when they least want to."

The description was so apt Mia laughed as she took his hand and threw off her lap quilt. "Maybe, but I think she's awesome."

He grasped her fingers, and Mia had to fight not to react to the sparks that shot up her arm. Then he pulled her closer, into the circle of his body heat, sending shivers down her spine again. 

"I imagine she feels the same way about you, love," Tom murmured, his eyes intense on her face. His jacket landed on her empty chair before his free hand pressed into her lower back. He didn't pull her closer, just held her firmly in place. 

"I deeply regret what I said earlier."

Mia tipped her head. "Which part? That I was making a play for your brother or that I'm a strumpet?"

Twin spots of colour burned into his cheeks. "All of the above. Kip once was so much a playboy it got him in trouble, but Serina has been good for him, and he is smitten with their daughter. I didn't want to see him make a mistake that could ruin everything he's worked for."

She peered up at him as the fire crackled in its grate. "That's your thing, isn't it?"

"My thing?"

"You rescue people." His family home, his brother, she wouldn't be surprised if he pulled Emma out of trouble along the line, too. 

Pain cracked his smile. "Better the rescuer than the villain."

The regret leaching into his smile hurt her heart, causing her to tease, "But you played such an excellent villain." She tilted up her chin. "Though, he wasn't truly a villain at all, was he?"

"Misunderstood," he murmured, his gaze drifting from her eyes. 

"He had a shit foster dad. I know how that is." Mia's eyes darted down to his mouth.

Tom licked his lips. "Do you?"

"Yeah. But what your Loki did wasn't his fault. He was tortured and brainwashed. I saw that in Avengers."

His grin grew. "I bet you did."

Before she could stop herself, entranced by the man's delectable mouth, Mia murmured, "Loki appreciates how well you played the part. He's still mad about the hair, though."

"Pardon?"

Mia started, blushed crimson, and attempted to step away, but he didn't let her, keeping her trapped in a dancer's embrace.

"It's nothing!" she insisted. 

Tom tilted his head, studying her with narrowed eyes. "You say Gods when you curse. You talk of Loki as if you speak to him instead of about him. And you've yet to set foot in any of Kelso's churches. Are you Pagan?"

That took her by surprise. Everyone in town really did know everyone else's business. 

Mia sighed. "Norse Pagan with Lokean leanings."

"Really?" he grinned. 

"Don't flatter yourself. I was Lokean long before you played Loki," she huffed.

"I did so much research into the practice, Loki, and the Eddas to play that part, but couldn't find anyone who would talk to me directly about their practice."

Bright puppy eyes begged down at her. 

Mia chuckled. "You still have questions?"

"So many questions!" he laughed.

"I'm happy to answer from my perspective. I can't speak for other people's practice, but I'll talk about mine."

"Brilliant!" He beamed.

"Just… don't tell everyone and their dog."

He frowned. "Why?"

"People can be judgy asshats who don't understand the difference between fiction and faith."

"I can understand that. And if I say something offensive, feel free to kick me in the shin."

Mia chuckled. "I will."

He laughed and shook his head. "I don't doubt you will, love. Don't doubt it at all."

Next Chapter

[mellythedork]

How in the ever-loving gourd has it been ten years? Time is an illusion that I stopped seeing ages ago.

10 years ago, at the tail end of 2013, I had a huge, friendship-ending fight that shattered me. In an attempt to keep myself together, I hid behind a character and wrote the most self-indulgent crossover fic I'd ever concocted. After 5 years, 2 rewrites, too many OCs to count, magic mechanics I didn't think through, and conversations with my former best friend about what had happened, I finally let that fic rest. I knew that if I tried to continue it, I'd never move on, as the very basis of it was focused on that fight.

But it was still such a colossal part of my life. 5 years to spend on a project is no laughing matter, and it felt like it was the only trustworthy constant as I struggled to make my way through everything going on around me. It invaded RPs with friends and basically everything I did...and that wasn't always a good thing. It was a coping mechanism that went too far, but I still cherished it so much.

Things never got anywhere near back to how they had been before that fight. But I learned a lot about myself and how to better handle problems I hadn't realized I was creating. I feel like being forced to think about it while writing the original Mooniverse helped me come to terms with it and move on--which was, of course, the intention all along! But it came to a point where I knew it had to end.

There was never any rhyme or reason to that fic, in any version of it. I wrote it purely to have fun and go wild. It's so odd looking back at the chapters now; I keep laughing at how things went without direction. But it was pure and adorable and I'll always look back at it fondly...beyond the cringing at how much I shoved it in my friends' faces.

For…I was going to say over a year, but I feel like 2 would be more accurate. For about 2 years now, I've struggled to create anything. Both art and writing have felt impossible. I burned out on most of my personal projects without realizing it until last month, but that realization took a weight off of me. And without that weight, as I realized the anniversary that was coming up, I was able to create something on nothing but a whim and enjoy it again.

My art block certainly isn't gone, and nothing about this is what I'd consider perfect. It's not even finished. But I set the sketch as my goal, trying to keep the pressure low, in hopes that I'd be able to post it at all. I do want to touch it up and finish it one day, but I'm not going to worry about that now.

I have been a bit inspired, though! I want to do more things like this. Like the original Mooniverse Melodia and the final one standing side by side here, I want to pull together more OCs with such connections and growth and see how far they've come. I don't know how much of that I'll accomplish, but it's been fun to think about for sure.

I hope everyone's holidays have gone well and that your plans for the new year are fulfilling. I think this year is going to go a lot better for me than the last.

--

From left to right we have: The original Annie along with the final Annie (Of course they'd be friends!)

The final Melodia (with slight modifications to her outfit in order to make a bit more sense; ditto to her bangs. Seriously, what was I thinking when I made that mess?? lol)

The middle-ground Moon (as I no longer have the design for the original, but wanted to include her)

The final Hope (in one of her alternate outfits)

The original Melodia (I didn't think I had any references left of her, but after about 2 hours of searching, I gave up only to stumble upon one by chance the next day. Sure was a surprise!)

And finally the middle-ground Myasu (just think of her & Moon as representing the first rewrite!)

-- I knew most of my art problems were from my difficulty and dislike of drawing bodies, so to make this possible at all, I used a base.

I also very much referenced the original image, the hair of Love Live and Idolmaster characters, and self-made bases from Shugo Chara, both due to time constraints and to keep my sanity. I'm very out of practice and didn't want to get so frustrated I abandoned the drawing altogether.

[animeguy-159]

Wild Wild Pussycats x Nomu Reader Pt 1

This is my first post ever here so please don't judge me if this ends up being totally shitty. This is also probably gonna end up being short. This is also a one shot, but I may make it into an actual story later on if people end up liking it more than I expect.

When they first found out about the fact that you had gone missing, of course they were concerned. You had grown to see them as family over the time that you have known them, and they've been good friends with you. They knew that you were out on a mission when you had disappeared and they put all of their time into finding you. Other heroes helped aswell, as you were well known and kinda popular. Mandalay was like a sister to you and Pixie Bob had a bit of a thing for you that she made painfully obvious, Tiger was always the guy you went to for sparring and just hanging out whenever you weren't out doing hero work, and Ragdoll was your best friend for a long time. She was the most affected by your sudden disappearance, crying nonstop over the fact that you could be dead or worse at the hands of God knows who. Tiger was angry at himself for not being there to try and help with whatever had happened. One thing that they all knew well was that this couldn't have been some accident, and it certainly was not a coincidence that you disappeared during one of your routine patrols. They had been looking for you ever since you had disappeared, choosing to not give up on you no matter what. To them you were like family, amd they would not allow anything like this to happen. They shouldn't have allowed it to happen. They had no idea that they would indeed end up finding you. Just not the way they'd hoped. The Wild Wild Pussycats had managed to find a lead as to where you might be, standing outside of what looked to be an abandoned warehouse that hadn't been in use by anyone in quite some time. Other heroes and police had arrived aswell, surrounding the building.

Tiger: "This is the place."

Mandalay: "Let's go get Y/N back."

Ragdoll and Pixie Bob both nodded as several other heroes, Eraser Head, Present Mic, All Might, and Mirko walked up to the door. All Might easily ripped it open as police stormed in, checking everywhere for any signs of you. However, everyone froze in a mix of fear and shock by what they saw. Inside, there were dozens of glass containers that held what looked to be nomus that were recently being created. Each one had a designated number labeled on the container, most being completely unrecognizable as the human they once were.

Ragdoll: "Oh god....all these people..."

Ragdoll had to look away from the horrible sight of it all for a moment, not wanting to think of all the pain that they had to suffer through up to this point. These were all innocent people at one point. People that had lives, families that they had to love and care for. But now they were being made into weapons. Living weapons. However, there was one container that held a special nomu that was being designed to fight against even the strongest of heroes. A high end nomu. That wasn't the shocking part though as Ragdoll's eyes widened upon seeing a name engraved on the container that was holding it, tears slowly forming in her eyes as she reads it.

Ragdoll: "Y-Y/N.....No...."

[staringdownabarrel]

A thing I've tended to notice among established Trek fans is a willingness to defend Captain Jellico. It makes sense that some people would do this: it's counterintuitive, so it's a viewpoint that caters to that contrarianism for the sake of contrarianism that plagues a lot of very online spaces, and it's something that appeals to people who think Starfleet should be a 1:1 comparison to real-world militaries.

Now, this isn't a post that's going to harp on about whether or not I think Starfleet is a military. I think it is, but it's also very clearly more than that, too. Basically, I think the "we're not a military" lines should be taken to mean "we're not just a military and we prefer doing the other stuff".

This also isn't going to be a post about whether or not Starfleet is an accurate representation of real-world militaries. I straight up just don't care if it is or not. Besides, I'm not really qualified to give an answer to this--I've never served, I don't know anyone who served particularly well, and I don't spend a lot of time reading about military codes of conduct and whatever.

Really, my big contention with the "Jellico was great" takes is that a lot of it ignores that the crew of the Enterprise-D were also experienced military officers at this point. All had served in the operation against the Borg cube in the Best of Both Worlds two parter, and they'd been the ones to come up with the way to defeat it. All had held important positions in the fleet blockading the Klingon-Romulan border during the Redemption two-parter as well. Both of these operations had been among the most important military operations Starfleet's known to have engaged in during the TNG era prior to the Dominion War.

It also ignores that there's already a huge difference in tactical capabilities between a Galaxy-class starship and the bulk of the Cardassian fleet at this point. This was very well established in The Wounded, where the Enterprise curbstomps a Galor-class cruiser and it's heavily implied the Phoenix could do the same. The Cardassians and the Federation were never militarily equal; it's just that the Federation chose to not act like it.

So when Jellico comes onboard and starts making wild changes without warning or explanation, it's not justified just because he's a military guy and Riker isn't. Riker's about as military as it gets, and prior to this, he was portrayed mostly as being as by-the-books as it gets. The problem is that Jellico doesn't know how to communicate.

I know there's the "Oh, but they were strapped for time" defense, but I don't really buy into that. Most of the stuff he wanted to change was stuff that it would have taken about a minute to explain. Most of it could just be a "sometimes Cardassian weaponry can have this effect if it hits a certain way, so we need this done to guard against that" kind of thing. Riker is portrayed as having had a pretty good working relationship with every other commanding officer he'd ever had, so he would have gone along with that if Jellico had just said it.

I don't think Jellico was necessarily entirely to blame for the entirety of the animosity between him and Riker, though. Some of it rests entirely with Starfleet Command. Really, they probably should have transferred a couple hundred extra people over to the Enterprise to help with these on-the-fly adjustments Jellico wanted to make. Given that the Galaxy-class can have a crew of up to 5,000 and the Enterprise had around 1,000, the only reason they hadn't done it earlier was probably because it was close enough to Federation space for the most part that it could just go to a starbase for a refit if it got banged up hard enough.

I also kinda feel like it would have been fine to have Jellico on the Cairo and Riker temporarily in command of the Enterprise, and just say that the diplomatic meetings would be on the Enterprise because it was the nicer ship. If shit got real and they had to fight, it'd probably be better to have the second ship waiting in the wings ready to go anyway.

[perriwinklesblog]

With the Barbie movie coming out today, I'd like to share with you my Barbie moments.

When I was young I was more of a teddy and soft toy person than Barbie or Doll person but I did have some Barbies that I liked to play with. I had two favourite Barbie's. I loved the Barbie movies and also when my cat had kittens I named the one we kept Barbie.

One of my two favourites was a Barbie that I guess could be considered a weird Barbie. I had cut it's hair, popped it's head off and pushed it back on so it no longer had a neck. It's clothes were mismatched and pen was all over it.

My other favourite Barbie was not necessarily a Barbie at all, it was Christie. I loved Christie so much. One day I took her one a walk in the woods with my parents and lost her as any 4 year old would. I was distraught and kept asking where she was and my little brain decided the police would find her.

Then a few days later I woke up and had a parcel come in the post and it was a letter from the local police saying they'd found Christie and with the letter came a slightly bashed and damaged Christie. I was so happy.

Fast forward 20 years later, my mum is recounting this story to a friend and I'm suddenly being told of one of the many (oh there were many) lies my parents told me.

The police hadn't found Christie. No, my dad has gone and found a new one and then her and my mum had roughed her up in the garden, ran her over slightly with the car, chucked her out the window, had our cats scratch her etc. Then my dad had created a fake letter from the police and then just after the postie had arrived, ran around the house and posted the doll to make it look like the postie had actually delivered the letter.

Now as an adult, looking back, yeah, of course it was fake but my god in the moment I was shocked.

But still, the effort my parents went through to make me believe that was my doll, that was my Christie, makes me love them a little more. Like yeah, lying is bad but they really cared and they were in their late 20s, man. I too, now in my late 20s, would do this for my wee sisters. And you know, it's a wild story now so it's even better.

I think I appreciated Barbie more as I got older. It's become a ritual with my friend and me, whenever we're hungover we watch Barbie Life in the Dream House.

Just wrapped up in our blankets, moaning about never drinking again and laughing our heads off at this cartoon.

I'll sit and watch the movies with my wee sisters and reminiese how my Granny would put them on for me as a treat when I visited her and how the animation may not always be the best but it still holds up. The memes that come from Barbie and how relatable they are are hilarious.

I understand the negatives of the corporations and the capitalistic evils, but I also understand the meaning behind Barbie and dolls in general and the lasting memories associated with them.

But yeah, just thought I'd share some of my Barbie memories.

[pro-anomalocaris]

Apparently other generations got to go to the movies regularly? I don't mean "if you begged you might be able to see one MCU movie a year with your friends", I mean they saw multiple movies, in an actual movie theater, per year.

I've been informed that vacations are a thing that families actually used to take. No one I know has ever gone on a vacation, but some of them have parents who did. They'd go camping or go to a relative's house or something. It was apparently feasible to have multiple days off in a row with which to do this, which is wild.

On my 21st birthday I stayed up writing a paper because my boss had made me do an extra shift or risk being fired so I hadn't had time to do my homework. I woke up early the next morning because I had to go to my second job in order to get enough money to afford going to college.

Allegedly other generations got to ride their bikes around and just... go places as kids/teens. If anyone I knew tried that they'd be in more trouble than I can imagine, and their parents would tell them in detail about all the pedophiles and serial killers and human traffickers out there waiting to snatch them up the second they left the house. Those same parents would then be confused when their child, after being told that for 18 years of their life, developed anxiety. After all, what is there to be afraid of? When I was your age we wandered around freely all the time.

The same parents who post the George Carlin bit about how playdates are bad and playing should be spontaneous and free refuse to let their kid play in the yard unsupervised, buy them devices, then complain their kids don't play outside enough. I knew kids who got in trouble for going outside their yard to retrieve a ball or toy that was out of it. Why don't kids these days go outside so I can yell at them for breaching the perimeter? Why are they in their room where they know I can't accuse them of being physically unsafe instead?

No one I knew had a 16th birthday party like you see in the movies. At most you'd be able to invite three people over for supervised fun consisting of birthday cake and video games. My mom's generation apparently went places and did things for that, or for their 18th. On my 18th I was in college and one of my professors emailed me telling me that failure to show up to my 8AM class the next day would not be tolerated. I was in the middle of my work shift so didn't reply right away, so I found a second "no, I'm serious, you HAVE to come to class" email when I was on break. Apparently my failure to reply right away read as non-compliance. My big birthday celebration moment was getting a single cupcake before I went to bed.

None of my friends and I can really afford to hang out. There's nowhere we can afford to go, and going over to each other's places is only sometimes feasible, because we all have a ton of roommates, because it takes that many to afford rent.

The most sought-after drug on campus is Adderall so we can work harder and get more shit done.

One time I missed a day of high school because I was hospitalized due to an allergic reaction (and I'm allergic to anti-allergy meds, which makes treating me difficult) and my English teacher demanded I write an explanation for my actions so I could 'have practice writing', due the next day, on top of all my existing homework.

My post-graduation party plan includes buying one video game I've been saving up for and applying for jobs.

There is no point to this because there is no point to anything at this point. There's no moment this is going to let up or get better. If anything, judging by the total despair in the eyes and words of those in the age bracket directly above me, it's going to get worse.

These are the best days of our lives.

For those of you wondering why Gen Z/millennials are depressed, this is a big part of why.

Maybe this is the wrong platform to pose this question given the average tumblr user but

Is it just me or did our generation (those of is who are currently 20-30 ish) just not get the opportunity to be young in the 'standard' sense?

Like, everyone I talk to who's over 40 has all their wild stories about their teens and 20s, being young and dumb, and then I talk to my friends and coworkers and classmates, and we just... dont.

[culttvblog]

The Avengers: Dance with Death

This blog post is about a first series episode of The Avengers which no longer exists. It has been recorded as audio by Big Finish but this post is based on the original script here: https://www.dissolute.com.au/the-avengers-tv-series/series-1/112-dance-with-death.html where there is also an episode synopsis.

Back to April 15th, 1961, when this episode was first broadcast. It feels like it's a long time ago in all sorts of ways - the episode refers to old money and old phone numbers which are long gone, and of course is from the early days of the show before it became the wild thing it did towards the end of the decade. I think you could probably also say that the plot reaches back in time even before the 1960s in some ways - it is essentially a straightforward detective story about a murderer who is working his way through the staff of a dancing academy. On the face of it this is therefore a rather pedestrian story.

Except it isn't. How it isn't. I hadn't read this one before and I loved it as soon as I started reading.

The original blurb in the TV Times summarised it as 'A corpse in a bath and Keel and Steed go ballroom dancing in an attempt to save the next victim'. Apart from the suggestion that Keel and Steed were dancing with each other (they weren't), if you replace the name Keel with the name Peel, this immediately sounds exactly like a later episode and you would just know some crazy stuff would be going on. This summary was actually the first thing that attracted my attention to this episode, because it makes it sound so much like Quick, Quick, Slow Death from series 4: 'A corpse in a pram and Peel and Steed go ballroom dancing in an attempt to save the next victim', type thing.

Of course being an early episode it's not quite as wild as the later ones, but we do have all the hallmarks. One of the striking things is how Steed really doesn't treat Keel very well, which is indeed how he treats all his opposites in the early shows. He is particularly delighted after Keel loses his scarf at the dance school and as a result is one of the suspects for murder. He treats it as if it's hilarious. Let me tell you that in those scenes if the dialogue was much more brittle it would be by EF Benson or Noel Coward, and in fact they do feel very much like Mapp and Lucia sparking off against each other. This dialogue is an aspect of the show which I hadn't even thought of before.

Elsewhere Steed is recognisably the Steed we know and love, joking away as he pretends to sign on to learn to dance at the school. There is also a magnificent scene where he bores holes through a bathroom door to see if the woman inside is ok, with the porter protesting all the time and obviously thinking he was spying on her. As I suppose in one way he was.

In the trivia on the Dissolute site linked above there is the magnificent detail that Steed comments on how Keel's surgery has been redecorated, and this was actually because they'd had a new set to go with the new ABC franchise - a detail which would be completely missed by the people who'd never seen the show before!

This is not a criticism because this show is a delight from start to finish but it can be slightly difficult to follow both the original script and the synopsis purely because the plot is obviously intended to set up different suspects for who the murderer is, and of course we are not seeing the characters. I haven't heard the Big Finish reconstruction.

An excellent first series Avengers, with some hints as to what was going to come later in the show.

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