#like no wonder Alan is such a mess

[jpriest85-blog]

I fell in love with @pdrrook Perfumare VN and IFs. While I'm still looking forward to seeing the rest of the story in Perfumare: Amalgam. I also got excited learning about the sequel Perfumare: Amalgam and came up with some concept art and info for my Shapeshifter MC, Gloria Jardin. I'm kind of jumping the gun ik, but I couldn't help it! I'm not sure how things will play out for Gloria, so I'll probably wind up having multiple routes saved like I did for my Allure MC, Liz Morren. Here's my info for Gloria so far. I'll probably wind up changing things once the sequel is officially released.

Name: Gloria Jardin

Animal form: Swan

Pronouns: she/her

Preferences: Bisexual

Birthday: January 24th

Height: 5ft10”/177.8cms

Appearance: A tall ethnically mixed woman, in her late twenties with a chestnut complexion and a dancer's build. A square shaped face with a cleft chin, full mouth and brown almond shaped eyes, her natural hair is black and coily, but as a Shapeshifter she can change her hair and eye color whenever it suits her mood. As does her fashion sense, and she's collected a pretty eclectic wardrobe over the years, depending on her mood and the occasion. From sleek suites paired with colorful avant-garde accessories to more theatrical clubbing outfits that could rival a Las Vegas show girls costume. Although she usually wears some sort of accessory or stylistic touch that has feathers or resembles swans.

Notable Features: A little gap in her front teeth, and long toned legs.

Personality: Gloria comes across as a classy, confident, intelligent and vibrant woman. Although it would surprise people to learn she went through an “ugly duckling” phase as a child. Considering the expectations put on her by her family growing up, she always felt like she never quite fit. In a way her childhood was similar to Laurent's trying so hard to be the “dutiful child ” to meet expectations and approval, and yet she was miserable. Although being away from her family ment Gloria finally got a chance to do things for herself and learn who she was as a person. Discovering she was Tier 4 Shape Shifter was kind of a relief actually. Well mostly she's still under watch from the government considering higher tier Shapeshifter's can potentially impersonate important people like government officials ect.

Although despite the fact that her gift is often associated with subterfuge and misdirection, Gloria herself tends to be a pretty honest person. She's wasted so much of her childhood trying to be what others wanted her to be, and it made her miserable. She's done with that bs, and she's not going to apologize for existing anymore! Although she does have enough class to recognize and apologize if she hurts someone. Even unintentionally by saying something thoughtless or blunt. Also, she still keeps enough social etiquette to show restraint when necessary. Although this does make her appreciate the fact she can take an animal from more. For Gloria, being able to turn into a Swan is cathartic, as she's not bound by the same rules as polite society if even for a little bit. She can fly, swim, and even bite people who piss her off.

Many people are often surprised to learn that she's friends with Alois Becker aka Marco and considers him like family. While Gloria did have a party girl phase and often went out dancing with Marco, she usually tries to keep him from doing anything too reckless that could get him seriously hurt. Although Gloria is fully capable of causing her share of havoc, she just prefers to be more discreet by Shape shifting into her swan form. While swans are very elegant and graceful birds, they have a huge wingspan and have been known to bite, so she can still do some serious damage if so inclined.

Thankfully, she's usually not as aggressive and reckless as Marco, although she sometimes feels more like an older sister/ young stepmother just trying to keep him from accidently getting himself killed. Although Marco will sometimes complain about Gloria becoming less “fun” as they've gotten older he appreciates the fact she cares enough to try, and the fact she's the only person who's always honest with him. Even though it means he usually gets roasted for being an idiot.

Headcanons & Additional info

Her name is a reference to a brand of perfumes, specifically Gloria Vanderbilt's Jardin à New York, which has a Swan debossed on the bottle. 

When it comes to her personal scent preferences, Gloria likes to use classic floral perfumes, particularly ones that smell like Gardenia.

Her Swan form is based on Mute Swans. Although she has been known to also take the form of Cygnet, since baby swans are so cute and fluffy. Perfect for when she wants others to lower their guard or needs to squeeze into smaller spaces. 

Gloria has always been fond of dancing and even took ballet lessons for many years. It's actually how she first met and befriended Alois/Marco. They were enrolled in the same dance class and performed well together when partners. Even during Gloria's party girl phase, she often helped choreographed dance routines for the clubs that made them both the life of the party. 

This also unfortunately fed into some of those “gold digger” rumors about her. Alois/Marco always likes to make an entrance, and what better way to ensure an audience than to show up with a tall, gorgeous woman who could pass for a model. Even though he only sees Gloria as a friend and sister figure, he's more than happy to play wingman, and likewise, Gloria is sociable enough to introduce him to actual super models. He can also act as protection in case drunken creeps try to hit on Gloria and don't take rejection well, which is sadly often. Alois/Marco's efforts to keep Gloria safe wind up unintentionally damaging her social reputation. Since many of these creeps also come from well-off families and don't get the fact that Gloria prefers Alois/Marco's company because he's her friend and respects her personal boundaries. They just assume she's only with him because he's got more money and/or his family owns the club.

Since Shapeshifters often have to thoroughly study an animal before they can take its shape, Gloria winds up developing an interest in swans and other birds. She has become a bit of an amateur Ornithologist and can even accurately mimic bird calls.

Gloria also has a love of learning and academics and in addition to being taught French by her family, she's become fluent in speaking, reading and writing many classical languages as well; Arabic, Chinese, Greek, Latin and Sanskrit.

She probably winds up getting a job in an academic field, which can be exciting for Gloria because she gets to learn so many new and fascinating things and earn new doctorates. It also means she struggles to be taken seriously since she's a lot younger than others in her field, not to mention it's difficult to get resources for research unless she's studying a subject that already has government funding, or wealthy patrons deem profitable. Not to mention her reputation for honesty means she often butts heads with higher ups on things like censorship and propaganda. 

[i3utterflyeffect]

i've thought too much about this. alan knows how to escape―portal out through wi-fi to the outernet. but i think he might stay on the computer since he knows that TCO might be created, and that moral obligation to stop the 3(?) years of suffering TCO would otherwise endure.

but also, there's a chance that noogai could create other stick figures to torment if untitled-3 and TCO escape without fighting much; the one guaranteed way to stop noogai is to cause irreparable damage to the PC.

so, with future knowledge, the events of AVAII and AVAIII could be condensed, untitled-3 could try to get noogai to draw TDL during the first fight with TCO, let them cause damage, before getting all of them out. though this might not pan out.

TRUE........ OUGH........ i could see him ending up just getting tamed though honestly if he tried though and stuck with chosen--

he could try and navigate to the ad from before, but honestly it might not be up yet--

but at least chosen isn't alone this time

[velvetjune]

(spoilers for alan wake games) thinking about awan again. i like how it included alice and it works a lot with whats shown of her in aw2: particularly like that the radio segments have her somewhat struggling to explain her documentary with how her film is separate to what she actually feels and knows happened irl. how she’s aware of the public perception of her and alan, and part of her making the documentary is responding to that and her own loss.

even in those interviews, the radio host still manages to turn everything about alan instead of alice and her own thoughts and film. she’s put in such an uncomfortable position of trying to be her own person. im glad her friend was there to guide the interview back towards her, but wow alice’s audio and videos in the games are hard to listen to

[ladysantos]

Idk if you got an ask I sent a bit ago or not so just in case not would you mind talking a bit about AJ? I’m obsessed with her design and the peaks of her character and story from the art you’ve posted. Just in general keep up the wonderful work your art is so stunning <3

hey thanks!! im so so glad u like her and im so grateful people like these characters living inside my head 😭 shes one of my oldest ocs and has changed a bunch of times. i think its really neat that characters change as the times change, they change styles and keep up with trends and grow up just as ppl grow up.

shes the lead vocalist of a band (i havent stuck with a name yet its crazy) with 3 other guys, my last art of her features her and their drummer alan! ill introduce u to the rest of them soon. maybe.

aj is a hot mess, shes reckless and carefree and doesnt give a shit about u or what u think. she can be a real asshole and will push people away in the meanest way possible. A SAD LESBIAN. she would keep feelings to herself until shes in front of a microphone, where she could be a genuine version of herself.

heres an old art i never posted <3

[mewannew]

2025! The year of a blue snake!

start from the top we have

Purple,pink

Chosen, Dark, Victim, Mitsi, Second, Red, Yellow, Green, Blue, gold, M.T

Have a great 2025 everyone!! Including ghosts and all ;)

Sooo here's a little speech (skip this if you like)

I started tumbler only two months ago. Short right?

But many of you liked my arts. To be honest, I didn't know that my drawings can be loved..

Well my mom hated me drawing stick figures even though I can draw more difficult things, and there were no 'alan becker fan' near me.

But I met you guys. So i thank you all

Thank you for your amazing arts:

@tulipsempai

@starrypawu

@mooneggtarts

@moth-scrunk

@thatonefishfriend

@zishu-arts

@virapocalypse

And more(hope i didn't bother anything)

Thank you for your suports:

@thewhiteguy

@irasketchbooks

@bamboo9lordserf

@pinkflamesorganization

@emma-alanbeckerfan

and more

Thank you for being a great friend and help to me:

@crystalcyanyellow

@moth-scrunk

@ahbasta09

@idkdema

@kuyanh

@abscshshhd

@theslasher136

@virapocalypse

@curryvo-fandom

If it weren't you, I might not be so energetic with blogging and maby stop using tumbler. But with all of your arts and helps, I'm still here.

I will do my best to repay for your helps and thank you so much.

These days I working on

Hollow mess ups au short comic(if you want to look more about this au, please visit my profile and you'll see it)

3 au's (can't tell you yet!)

Thank you everyone and have a wonderful 2025

(i think i'm not good at touchy speeches)

[muiitoloko]

11 o'clock girl

Summary: The sheriff notices you and makes you the 11 o'clock girl.

Pairing: Sheriff of Nottingham × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, questionable consent, degradation.

Author Notes: Hey folks! First off, a big shoutout to all 150 of you wonderful followers! *pops open a bottle of budget-friendly champagne* Now, let me tell you about my recent dive into the cinematic masterpiece that is "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves." Can we just take a moment to appreciate Alan Rickman's brilliance in that movie? He practically swiped the spotlight from Costner like a pro pickpocket!

So, I decided to scribble down a few thoughts about the character, but fair warning, I might have taken some creative liberties here and there. So, if the Sheriff of Nottingham ends up doing something completely outlandish, just roll with it, okay? Oh, and I should probably mention that I didn't bother proofreading this gem. Hey, blame it on my laziness! But I promise I'll clean up the mess later. Cheers to that! 🥂

As a lowly servant in the castle of Nottingham, you've always known the dangers of catching the Sheriff's eye. His reputation for cruelty and ruthlessness precedes him, and you've seen firsthand the consequences of crossing him. But when the Sheriff notices you, it's not fear that grips your heart—it's a chilling sense of dread mixed with a strange fascination.

At first, it's just a fleeting glance, a passing acknowledgment of your presence as you go about your duties. But soon, those glances turn into lingering stares, his piercing brown eyes boring into your soul with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine.

You try to keep your distance, avoiding him whenever possible and praying that he'll lose interest and move on to someone else. But the Sheriff is relentless, his obsession with you growing with each passing day until it becomes impossible to ignore.

One night, as you're tidying up the Great Hall after a banquet, you feel his presence behind you, his breath hot against your neck as he leans in close. "You have a name, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice sending a chill down your spine.

You nod nervously, unable to speak as fear grips your throat like a vice. But the Sheriff doesn't seem to notice—or perhaps he just doesn't care—as he continues to hover close, his gaze burning into your skin with an intensity that makes you squirm.

"I want you," he said abruptly, his words sending shockwaves of terror through your body. The implication hung heavy in the air, leaving you trembling with fear at the thought of what he might do to you.

But before you could respond, the Sheriff gave you a chilling command. "Come to my quarters at 11," he instructed, his voice dripping with authority. "And don't be late."

You nodded numbly, too terrified to refuse as the Sheriff smiled contentedly to himself before leaving, leaving you shaking in his wake. As you stood alone in the Great Hall, the weight of his words settled over you like a suffocating blanket, filling you with a sense of dread and helplessness.

The thought of what awaited you in the Sheriff's quarters made your stomach churn with nausea, but you knew that disobeying him was not an option. With a heavy heart, you resigned yourself to your fate, knowing that you had no choice but to obey his command.

As the clock struck 11, you found yourself standing outside the Sheriff's quarters, your heart pounding in your chest as you knocked on the door with trembling hands. The seconds stretched into eternity as you waited, the anticipation building with each passing moment until finally, the door swung open, revealing the Sheriff standing before you.

He was dressed only in his pants, his black hair tousled and his brown eyes gleaming with amusement as he greeted you with a sly grin. "Ah, the 11 o'clock girl," he purred, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Right on time, as always."

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry with fear as you stepped into his quarters, your eyes darting nervously around the room. But before you could utter a word, the Sheriff turned away from you, his attention drawn to the woman lying in his bed.

"Time to go, darling," he said casually, his tone dismissive as he addressed the woman who lay beside him. "You were the 10:45 girl, weren't you? Off you go now, before I lose interest."

The woman scrambled to get dressed, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she hurriedly gathered her belongings and fled the room, leaving you alone with the Sheriff once more. As the door closed behind her, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over you, the realization sinking in that you were not the only one he had summoned tonight.

But as you looked at the Sheriff, his gaze lingering on you with a hunger that sent a chill down your spine, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. You had been summoned here for a reason, and now it was time to face whatever fate awaited you.

But as the Sheriff approached you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, a wave of doubt washed over you, your mind reeling with questions and uncertainties. Did you truly want this? Did you have any choice in the matter?

As he drew closer, his hands reaching out to touch you, you couldn't help but flinch, your body recoiling instinctively from his touch. But the Sheriff paid no mind to your hesitation, his eyes blazing with desire as he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a rough and possessive kiss.

As the Sheriff pulled you into his embrace, his hands roaming over your trembling form, a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine. Despite your fear and uncertainty, there was something undeniably thrilling about being in the presence of such a powerful and commanding man.

"You're trembling, my dear," the Sheriff remarked, his voice dripping with amusement as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Nervous, are we? Or perhaps just excited to finally be in my arms?"

You couldn't help but blush at his words, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you struggled to maintain your composure. But the Sheriff only chuckled darkly, his hands wandering lower as he pulled you closer, his touch sending sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

"Tell me, darling," he murmured, his voice low and husky as he trailed kisses down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you know why I summoned you here tonight? Or are you content to let me take what I want without a word of protest?"

His words sent a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through you, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. But before you could respond, the Sheriff silenced you with a searing kiss, his lips hungry and demanding as he claimed you as his own.

As his hands roamed over your body with a possessive urgency, you surrendered yourself to him completely, your mind clouded with desire as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment. And as the Sheriff guided you towards the bed with a predatory gleam in his eyes, you knew that there was no turning back now.

He paused for a moment, his fingers caressing your thigh with a disturbing mix of possessiveness and curiosity, he posed a question that made your heart race with apprehension.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked, his voice laced with a cruel edge as he studied your reaction.

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry with fear as you stuttered out a nervous "no." The truth was that servants like you were rarely virgins, your station in life leaving you with very few options and even fewer expectations of finding a husband.

The Sheriff nodded, his fingers trailing under your servant's dress, which was little more than a rag draped over your body. "How many men have you been with, then?" he inquired, his tone mocking and derisive.

You lowered your gaze respectfully, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as you admitted, "Only one, milord. A stable boy here at the castle."

The Sheriff's brow quirked in amusement, a sardonic smile playing on his lips as he considered your response. "Ah, a stable boy," he remarked dryly. "Is he your betrothed, then? Your one true love?"

You shook your head quickly, your voice barely above a whisper as you denied his assumption. "No, milord. We were... merely acquaintances."

The Sheriff chuckled darkly at your response, his fingers continuing to roam over your trembling form as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Well, my dear, it seems you and I have something in common," he murmured, his voice dripping with malice. "Neither of us is meant for love, only for pleasure."

You shuddered at his words, a chill of dread creeping down your spine as you realized the true nature of your predicament. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you knew that there was no escape from the Sheriff's clutches—that you were nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game of power and desire.

And as he pressed his lips to yours once more, his touch hungry and possessive, you resigned yourself to your fate, knowing that there was no turning back now.

As the Sheriff of Nottingham stripped away your meager garment, revealing your naked form to him, a predatory grin spread across his lips, his brown eyes gleaming with a cruel hunger. His gaze lingered hungrily on your exposed body, savoring every curve and contour as if he were appraising a prized possession.

"You're beautiful, my dear," he remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he traced a finger along the curve of your hip. "Almost too beautiful to be a mere servant."

You flinched at his touch, feeling a chill of dread wash over you as you realized the true extent of your vulnerability. But before you could protest or beg for mercy, the Sheriff's hands were already moving with purpose, stripping away your last shred of modesty with callous disregard.

As he tossed your underwear aside, leaving you completely exposed before him, you couldn't help but tremble with fear and shame, your heart pounding in your chest as you braced yourself for what was to come.

The Sheriff's smile widened at the sight of your nakedness, his eyes devouring you with an insatiable hunger that made your skin crawl. He wasted no time in making his intentions clear, his movements rough and commanding as he positioned himself between your legs, his erection throbbing with anticipation.

With one hand gripping your thigh possessively, the Sheriff used his other hand to guide his throbbing member towards your entrance, his touch sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure coursing through your body.

"No, please, wait," you pleaded, your voice trembling with desperation as you tried in vain to reason with him. But the Sheriff paid no heed to your protests, his lustful desires driving him forward with relentless determination.

Ignoring your cries, he thrust himself into you with brutal force, causing you to cry out in agony as he stretched you beyond your limits. You were not ready for him, not prepared for the searing pain that tore through your body with each merciless thrust.

But the Sheriff showed no mercy, his movements relentless as he claimed you as his own, his grunts of pleasure mingling with your cries of pain. He was rough and demanding, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he pounded into you with a primal intensity.

"Ah, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with lust as he reveled in the sensation of your warmth enveloping him. "That stable boy clearly didn't know what he was doing if he left you like this."

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to endure the agonizing pleasure, your mind clouded with a dizzying mix of pain and arousal. The Sheriff's thrusts were relentless, each one driving you closer to the edge of oblivion as he claimed you as his own.

And as he pressed your hand against your lower stomach, forcing you to feel the full extent of his penetration with each thrust, you realized with a sickening sense of despair that there was no escape from his clutches—that you were nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game of power and desire.

As the Sheriff continued to thrust into you with a relentless determination, his words became more cutting, his voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

"You like this, don't you?" he taunted, his breath hot against your ear as he reveled in your helpless submission. "A filthy little servant like you, enjoying being used like a common whore."

You whimpered at his words, a mixture of shame and arousal coursing through your veins as you struggled to reconcile your conflicting emotions. You knew you shouldn't be enjoying this, shouldn't be responding to his cruel words with such eagerness, but you couldn't help yourself.

With each thrust, the Sheriff seemed to find new ways to demean and degrade you, his words like daggers piercing your already fragile sense of self-worth.

"You're nothing but a plaything to me," he sneered, his tone laced with contempt as he continued to pound into you with a punishing rhythm. "A worthless little whore, good for nothing but spreading your legs and taking whatever I give you."

But instead of recoiling from his words, you found yourself growing more aroused with each insult, your body responding eagerly to his dominating presence. With a newfound sense of confidence, you reached out and grabbed the Sheriff's back, pulling him closer to you as you urged him to intensify his thrusts.

The Sheriff's eyes widened in surprise at your boldness, a dark grin spreading across his lips as he realized the depth of your depravity. "Well, well, it seems our little servant has a bit of a backbone after all," he chuckled, his voice tinged with amusement. "I like that. Let's see how much you can take, shall we?"

With a renewed sense of purpose, you gripped the Sheriff's ass firmly, urging him to thrust into you harder and faster as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure of the moment. Despite the pain and humiliation, there was something undeniably exhilarating about being dominated by such a powerful and commanding man.

And as the Sheriff chuckled darkly at your eagerness, his hands roaming over your trembling form with a possessive urgency, you knew that there was no turning back now—that you were his to command, body and soul. And strangely, in that moment, you wouldn't have it any other way.

As the Sheriff took your hand off his ass and pinned it to the bed above your head, you felt a surge of excitement coursing through your veins. His touch was rough yet electrifying, sending shivers of anticipation racing down your spine as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure of the moment.

Leaning down, the Sheriff pressed his lips to your neck, his kisses leaving a trail of fire in their wake as he trailed down to your collarbone. With effortless strength, he took your other hand and pinned them together above your head, his large hand easily holding them in place against the mattress.

You moaned with pleasure, the sound music to the Sheriff's ears as he reveled in the intoxicating power he held over you. With each thrust, he drove you to new heights of ecstasy, his movements relentless and commanding as he claimed you as his own.

As he kissed down your collarbone, the Sheriff couldn't help but marvel at the scent of soap on your skin, a stark contrast to the other women he had been with. "You smell divine," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration as he praised you for your cleanliness.

But you were lost in pleasure, your eyes closed and face contorted in ecstasy as you surrendered yourself completely to the Sheriff's desires. With each thrust, your back arched and your body writhed beneath him, the sensations overwhelming your senses as you neared the brink of climax.

The Sheriff watched you with a hunger that bordered on obsession, his brown eyes dark with desire as he imagined what it would be like to see you cum on his dick. It was a thought that had never crossed his mind before, the idea of giving pleasure to a woman rather than just taking what he needed.

But as he gazed down at you, lost in pleasure and utterly vulnerable beneath him, the Sheriff felt a strange sense of longing stirring within him. He wanted to see your expression as you reached the peak of ecstasy, to witness the raw, unbridled passion on your face as you surrendered yourself completely to him.

With a newfound sense of determination, the Sheriff quickened his pace, driving you towards the edge of oblivion with each powerful thrust. And as you cried out in ecstasy, your body convulsing beneath him as waves of pleasure washed over you, he knew that he would stop at nothing to make you his own.

For in that moment, as you lay beneath him, utterly vulnerable and completely surrendered to his desires, the Sheriff realized that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side—to possess you body and soul, now and forever.

[certifiedcy-n]

Animator vs Animation 11

Oh gosh. That was one hell of a rollercoaster ride.

After watching the video... I have to admit, what Victim saw was that TCO was a powerful entity and allies with the cursor, sent to ruin his life on the Outernet. So, the question is,

Does Victim deserve a karma arc?

I mean, if a stick that looks like you killed the love of your life and destroyed everything you worked for, I would be pissed. It seems like Victim doesn't know that TDL was also a part of the terrorist attacks. There is so much things just pushed into this one video, so: This explains how TSC revived the colour gang; with the green internet power thingies. I wonder how TSC has those powers? Victim definitely has PTSD over cursors, judging by how he got killed over and over, who wouldn't?

awww look at them Can I just say; oh my days. Oh my days. Victim and Mitsi are so cute. I was wondering if Mitsi would die while I was watching the livestream and whoops. I jinxed it.

Purple and his family are shown in the video, which I think is cool. It also explains how sticks from the Outernet are created.

TCO and TDL - oh my- like, we all knew they were cyber-terrorists or whatever, but that is genuinely so messed up. I need to know why they decided to destroy the city. The fact that TCO and TDL did a little high-five (cute, but like, wrong time, wrong place lol) means that didn't have any sympathy for the citizens.

Reading the magazines on the wall nearly at the end of the video; Vic didn't want to continue his business after the terrorist attack, leading to their downfall, seeing the (ex)workers quit Rocket Corp. and stuff.

Also, TDL wasn't shown on the papers.

Only TCO was.

I wonder if that means something. I wonder if TDL set TCO up so everyone thinks he's the one doing the terrorist attacks by himself? Unlikely, but still. Also, Vic never knew TDL existed, or that he was part of the terrorist attacks. That explains why TCO was wanted for Rocket Corp., and TDL never was.

ALSO, WHAT IS THIS, ALAN.

Oh my days. I think I won't be able to sleep tonight...

[tagsecretsanta]

From @littleoldrachel

From @littleoldrachel to @sofasurf

Let your heart be light

“I just don’t understand why you leave it to the last minute every year, Allie.”

Alan’s bedroom is an explosion of wrapping paper in a garish glitter snowman print. Every attempt to manoeuvre it has only cascaded silver glitter into every crevice of the fluffy carpet—or worse, burrowed into Alan’s palms, no matter how many times he’s scrubbed them. Strings of gold ribbon, webs of sticky tape, and an assortment of gifts lie tangled at the centre of the mess, with at least four pairs of open scissors perfectly positioned to do some damage. 

The paper he’d thought was so cute when he ordered it online is now haunting him—most disturbing were the trails of glitter that swilled around his shower water earlier. (He also doubts that it fills his rescuees with reassurance when he leaves sparkly handprints on them as he lifts them out of whatever horrifying situation they’ve found themselves in. Although… the little girl who’d asked him very earnestly if he was a fairy since he was leaving such a shimmery trail made the whole thing rather more cute than annoying.)

Still, curse Gordon for encouraging Alan's poor wrapping paper decisions. 

“Please, Scott,” Alan wheedles. He hesitates, then pulls out the big guns and widens his eyes to pouting proportions. “I'll never get this done in time without you.”

Scott rolls his eyes, but he does inch forward from where he's leaned against the door jamb, his crossed arms loosening slightly. 

“It's ten to midnight. Christmas Day is literally minutes away, Allie,” Scott says, and Alan can tell he's trying to channel Commander Tracy—if only he could contain his fond smirk. 

“It'll be faster if we work together!” Alan blinks slowly and deliberately, puppy-dog eyes unwavering. 

“Quit trying to be cute.” 

“It's a lost cause!” Gordon's voice calls out from the hallway, and Alan is so intent on flinging himself across the room to hide the squid's present from view that he doesn't even have the time to be indignant. 

Scott frowns and turns. “Why aren't you in bed?”

Gordon's unruly mop of golden curls appears in the gap. “The mother-henning again, Scotty? Really?”

Scott ignores this. “You're usually first in bed on Christmas. I remember this because you were always the first one to come bounding into my room at four in the morning, shrieking about what Satan had brought you.”

“Satan?” Alan yelps.

“Hey, dyslexia is a cruel mistress!” Gordon scowls. “I liked it better when we were making fun of Allie-”

“I didn't-”

“But if you must know, I was checking on Virg.”

Scott straightens at once, every bit the soldier he once was. (Alan sort of hates it, if he's honest; it feels painful how easily the Commander comes out, even in the one place they are supposed to get to be soft and safe.)

“What's wrong with Virgil?”

“Stand down, soldier.” Gordon yawns so hard his jaw crackles. “Virg is fine. He took a few knocks on this afternoon's rescue, and I just wanted to check he wasn't doing his usual stoic thing.”

Scott frowns. “He didn't mention that in the debrief-”

“Virg hiding injuries? Gee, I wonder where he learned that,” Gordon says dryly, and Alan snorts. “He's fine, Scott. Just bruised and cranky.”

“I'll check in on him in a bit,” Scott says, more to himself than anyone else, and Gordon shoots Alan an exasperated eye roll that has him grinning. Then, Gordon's eyes rove over the disaster site that is Alan's room, and his eyes widen. It's a mark of how tired he must be that he doesn't even quip, just slowly backs away from the mess. “On that note, g’night!” 

Alan waits till Gordon's door has closed before he clambers up off Gordon's gift: a truly hideous Christmas jumper decorated with a Santa Claus riding a flamingo float. 

Alan's gifts to his brothers are always the most heinous jumpers he can find - after all, what on earth do you give a family made up of billionaires? - and the public loves the annual auction of the jumpers as part of the Tracy family charity drive. He's pretty proud of himself for this year's effort. 

“The sooner you help me, the sooner you can go and bother Virg,” Alan says sweetly, holding up the scissors to Scott. 

Scott lets out a put-upon sigh, but he's never been able to resist his littlest brother – as Alan well knows – and he takes the scissors reluctantly. 

“Fine, but I'm tagging you in on helping Grandma with the lunch tomorrow.”

Alan pulls a face. He adores his grandmother with his whole heart and soul, and yet her incompetency in the kitchen is nothing short of deadly. Still, if it means an end to the scratchiness of glitter on his skin, he'll go for it. 

“Deal.”

*

Twenty minutes later and faced with a wrapped jumper that looks more like a piece of crumpled trash than a gift, Alan is regretting his recruitment choices. They’d massively underestimated the size of the paper they would need and had been forced to attach another sheet at a strange angle to cover the gift, leaving the snowmen oddly distorted.

“I thought you'd be good at this,” he says despairingly, poking at where the wrapping paper has bunched and torn. “Isn't the army big on neatness?”

Scott slaps his hand away. “You're making it worse! I'm just out of practice.” He has glitter smeared in his eyebrows from his constant head-in-hands-exasperation, and it's the kind of ridiculousness that pours warmth into his chest; they may all be public figures, and they may have had their grief made an aching, public thing, but only Alan and his brothers get to witness Scott Tracy being silly. 

“Scotty, you have five siblings; how can you possibly be out of practice?”

There's an awkward pause as Alan tries – to no avail – to fold down the corners of the lumpy package. When it finally clicks that Scott hasn't come back with a witty retort (and Alan's tired, okay? Three back-to-back rescues and his brain has turned to soup), Alan looks up sharply. 

“I usually get Virg to do mine,” Scott admits grudgingly, and Alan gapes. “He likes it!” Scott adds defensively, shuffling his stance in a very un-Scott-like move. “Says he finds it ‘mindful’ or whatever.”

“Great! Then I'll ask him to do mine!” Alan scoops up an armful of crumpled wrapping paper and tangled ribbon, making to stand. 

Scott laughs. “Not so fast, kiddo. Virg may or may not be injured—and even if he weren't, he has a strict deadline for wrapping applications.”

Alan's mouth moves silently, trying to catch up. “How long has this been going on?”

“About… five years?” Scott scrunches his nose. “Maybe longer?”

“And why am I only hearing about it now?”

Scott shrugs. “It didn’t start as a whole thing; I was getting more and more stressed about not being ready for Christmas with all the Tracy Industry stuff, and it was when he was following me around like a shadow because he was worried, and then he just helped… and kept helping.” Scott shifts his weight again and places the next jumper – John’s – in the centre of a fresh sheet of paper. “And then Gordon cottoned on, and–"

“What?!” Alan’s outrage is like the sharp sting of a torn-off scab. “Gordon knows and he didn’t tell me?”

Scott blinks at him. “We all know, Allie. John found out… somehow, because he’s John. Kayo walked in on Virg wrapping all her birthday presents. Didn't you always wonder why the presents we give Virg are wrapped like shit, and ours belong in a gallery?”

“I can't believe there's been an underground present-wrapping operation this whole time.”

Scott grins and shakes his head. “I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out, Mr Built-A-Damn-Rocket-At-Twenty-Years-Old.” He’s folding the paper around the jumper more carefully this time, creasing sharp folds instead of simply rolling it. “Hold,” he says, and Alan obediently presses his hand over where the paper meets. Scott places a tiny square of tape over the join, and Alan frowns.

“We’re going to need more than that, Scotty. You know we can afford more tape if we run out?”

“Do you want my help or not?” Scott says, elbowing him. He does grudgingly place another piece alongside it, though.

There’s a brief lull between them as they focus their efforts on the present, which is looking considerably less Frankenstein’s monster-like than their first attempt, even if they have reams of paper left over.

“You’re right, though, I did use to be better at this,” Scott says quietly. “Someone had to be after mom—well… let’s just say that dad wasn’t exactly great at being there to pick up this kind of thing.”

Alan’s heart clenches, the familiar wounded creature that it is. Scott rarely talks about the time after mom’s death—and usually, only in relation to the impact it had on Virgil (an all-consuming, terrifying depression) and John (vicious intrusive thoughts and anxiety). He and Gordon had been too young to remember things being any different, but with the benefit of hindsight, Alan can recognise how tough it must have been. It’s uncommon for Scott to talk about what that was like for him: the lynchpin to bind them together with too young hands for such a burden. Alan feels a little like he’s handling a frightened animal in the face of Scott’s pain, but he makes an interested noise in his throat, allowing Scott to shift his hands wherever he’s needed.

“It was rough, sometimes,” Scott allows. His voice is soft and his expression distant. “I didn’t want you and Gords and Johnnie to miss out on any of the Christmas build-up stuff – and Grandma tried to be there – but I was only a teenager. Sometimes, even now when I’m wrapping gifts, I can feel that stressed boy, juggling nativity plays and gifts for teachers and Christmas jumper days–" He cuts himself off sharply. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear all this.”

“I do,” Alan says, and the desperation bleeds into his tone more than he wishes. “I do want to hear it—I’m… I’m sorry we didn’t realise how much it was for you to manage.”

“You were four, Allie, I didn’t want you to realise.”

“Still.” His arms tingle with the urge to fling them around his oldest brother, to brush his thumbs under the eyebag-crevices he’s too young to have, to smooth the crinkle of his brow. Instead, he stares down at the paper beneath his hands and swallows.  “I wish you talked about it more.”

Scott pauses, fingers hovering over where he’s poised to place the final strip of tape. “I’m trying to. Virg tells me I shouldn’t keep it all bottled up.”

“Yeah well. He’s pretty smart, you know?”

Scott laughs, and the movement softens his forehead and creases the lines around his mouth. It’s lovely. It’s as it should be. “I know.” He sits back on his haunches and the two of them survey their handiwork.

It’s a great improvement on their first attempt, even if all the extra paper ended up bunched and bulky around the edges. Scott ties a ribbon around it lengthways, and Alan slaps on a sparkly bow.

“I think we nailed it,” Scott says, eyes twinkling.

The bow promptly falls off the parcel.

Alan scowls, reattaching it more forcefully—enough that he feels the centre of it click and then a horrid, tinny version of Jingle Bells starts playing. Alan and Scott stare at it in horror as a children’s choir begins yowling over the top of the music, and Alan reaches out to try and stop the caterwauling.

“No!” Scott seizes his wrist, eyes wide. “Don’t make it start again!”

As the final line rings out, the bow plops off the parcel again and Scott’s eyes narrow. “It’s fucking with us.”

“Language!” Alan says gleefully, and Scott nudges him.

“It’s cursed, Allie, I’m telling you—”

“Don’t be silly.” He applies featherlight pressure to the bow this time, but as his hand moves away, the song starts up again. “I didn’t even press it!”

The music plays through once… and then immediately starts up again.

Scott and Alan exchange a look, and then the corner of Scott’s mouth twitches and it’s enough. Alan bursts out laughing – loud, hysterical sounds that frankly improve the awful music – with Scott close behind him. The music chunters on cheerfully in the background, but Alan is warm with sheer delight at the expression on Scott’s face, the way he’s bent double with the force of his laughter, how light he seems for the first time in months.

“You’re right – it’s haunted,” Alan manages, which only sets Scott off again. In the background, the song stutters on way-ay-ay-ay-ay, like some crazy club remix.

“Why – did you get – singing ones?” Scott wheezes through laughter, and all Alan can do is shake his head.

Eventually, as the music grows tinnier and tinnier, Scott staggers up and flings the cursed decoration through Alan’s balcony doors, until it lands with a plop in the pool. He turns back to Alan, grinning so wide and wild that Alan feels giddy all over again.

Seeing his brothers happy fills his heart to the brim, but seeing Scott happy—it’s molten gold flowing into every last crack and chip in his chest, leaving him warm and light and whole. He wants to capture this moment in a glass jar and hold it close on his darkest nights. He wants to lock away this memory and protect it against the future versions of Scott who will be stern and burnt out and beaten down. He just wants Scott to be happy.

It’s an impossible dream. Or at least, an impossible consistent dream; after all, Scott has surely the most stressful job in the world and sends his brothers out into the field every single day without being able to know for sure that they will return. He plays both mother and father, presents the perfect CEO, offers the ideal PR needed—it’s too much for anyone to hold and be happy. Scott is the first to admit that there are always people they can’t save, always situations they can’t control, and always moments that are missed (even if his hypocritical arse won’t accept that itself).

But Alan can start with this—with Christmas. With family and presents and ridiculous wrapping paper. And maybe – maybe – it will be enough for now.

*

BANG!

Alan jolts awake so fast that black spots burst in his vision as he sits up. Scott is already on his feet beside him, ever the soldier, tiredness cast off like a cloak.

“Whoops.” Their grandma’s voice floats up to them, and the brothers exchange a look before Scott offers a hand to Alan.

“My money’s on a cooking disaster,” Scott says conspiratorially, and Alan sort of hates him for being so awake at this moment.

Alan groans as he accepts the proffered hand, his own free hand rubbing at his aching neck. The two of them had finally fallen asleep around two in the morning, slumping into a messy pile surrounded by wrapping paper and decorations. Alan feels considerably worse for wear as he rubs glitter from his eyelashes, but he allows Scott to pull him from the room in the direction of their grandma’s mumbled cursing.

“What time is it?” he yawns, wincing as his thumb hits a particularly sore knot in his neck.

Scott casts him a pitying look. “You’re too young to be aching like this, Allie.”

“Yeah, Allie. Spare a thought for the old man over here,” Gordon’s voice is gleeful as he slings an arm over Alan’s shoulder and nods at Scott. “And it’s just gone eight.”

Scott flips Gordon off over his shoulder, which only makes Gordon grin wider still. He’s just in swimming trunks and still drips pool water across the corridor, skin cool against Alan’s sleep-sensitive arms.

Their smiles fade as they round the corner to the kitchen, where they see Grandma staring helplessly at the oven – a scary enough prospect on its own – from which black smoke is pouring. The glass has shattered inwards, and a thick, acrid stench fills the air. The three boys freeze for a fraction of a second before Scott and Gordon leap into action, flinging open the oven door and yanking out a charred and blackened unidentifiable mess.

Grandma blinks in confusion. “I was just preheating the oven for the turkey,” she says. “What’s my Christmas cake doing in there?”

Gordon widens his eyes at Alan from behind Grandma’s back, his message clear: DO NOT SPILL THE BEANS. Alan does his best to blink innocently back at Grandma—to pretend that he and Gordon didn’t hide it in the oven earlier this week to avoid having to eat any and risk their stomach linings.

“Well?” Grandma turns to look at Gordon, who quickly schools his features into something bewildered. “Care to explain?”

Thankfully, Virgil chooses that moment to stumble into the kitchen, beelining for the coffee machine. He stabs blearily at the buttons before Scott takes pity and sorts his espresso. Virgil blinks dopily at Scott in response, patting his head tiredly and slinking over to the island stools.

“Morning, Virg,” Gordon says brightly, and Virg grunts something in response.

“I’m very well, thank you so much for asking. And a merry Christmas to you, too!” Gordon continues, and Alan sees Scott bite back a smile.

“What happened to the oven?!” John joins them, pale and sleepy-looking but far more awake than his older brother.

“Someone ruined my Christmas cake—and now the oven is broken!” Grandma says, and her gaze flits to the turkey sitting on the side, ready to be roasted.

Alan frowns. “But how will we roast the turkey now?”

There’s an awkward pause. “Are you sure it’s broken?” Scott asks, crouching to examine the nobs and dials. He twists a few experimentally, and the oven belches out an almighty groan of more black smoke. “Okay! Message received!”

Scott stands and glances over at Virgil. “Virg, can you take a look at it?”

Virgil shoots Scott a look over the rim of his mug. “You want me to glass-blow a new oven door?” Alan had forgotten how sarky early morning Virgil can be and he loves it.

“Virg.”

Virgil downs the remainder of his piping hot coffee and stands. It takes him all of two seconds to declare the oven out of action: “It needs at least three replacement parts, even if the door were reparable,” he tells them, the wonders of coffee returning a sharp precision to his tone. “I can make a version of those parts, but it’ll take too long for today.”

“What are we going to do?!” Alan yelps, flushing as everyone turns to look at him.

“We could… have a barbecue?” Gordon suggests, squinting at the prepared turkey. “We could slice it into strips, set up on the beach…”

Scott snaps his fingers at Gordon, smiling wide. “Yes! Great plan—”

“What can I say? Here to save Christmas,” Gordon smirks, grin only widening when his brothers roll their eyes in unison.

*

Several hours later, they have hauled the barbecue down onto a quiet strip of beach, with Brains and Virgil talking quietly as they man the barbecue and bicker about the most effective use of space on the grill. Almost everyone else, bar M.A.X and Grandma (who are lounging on blankets on the sand), has been recruited for a game of chicken fight, with the added challenge of battling the current of the tide as it sweeps in and out.

From atop Kayo’s shoulders, Alan takes out John with ease, grinning as his brother falls off Scott like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Grub’s up!” Virgil yells, and the four of them scatter, hurrying towards the shore. Alan can’t help the bubble of laughter that escapes him as Kayo and Scott become entangled and flop together in the foamy edge of the water.

By the time the two of them are back on dry land, everyone else is tucking into their Christmas lunch, appreciative hums echoing across the group.

“There’s sand in my turkey,” John says with a frown, and Scott laughs.

“Better that than Grandma’s special stuffing recipe. Nearly cracked my tooth with that a while ago.”

John rolls his eyes, but obediently chomps down on the sandy turkey sandwich. He’s a little paler and thinner than his brothers like him to be, but his smile is bright and lovely even through a mouthful of chewed bread and meat.

By nine, the sun has begun to creep towards its bedtime, pouring pink and gold across the sky in a beautiful cascade of colours. The smell of barbecued meat blends with the salty sea air, undercut with the coconutty scent of John’s suncream.  

The Tracy family shows no such sign of calling their celebration to an end—Gordon and Scott have roped Kayo and M.A.X into a game of volleyball, with the little robot strangely nimble across the loose sand, whilst John, Brains and Grandma alternate between roasting marshmallows and playing increasingly competitive card games.

It’s nothing like the Christmases Alan grew up watching in movies and on TV, nor is it like the ones his schoolfriends used to wax lyrical about.

Somehow, it’s even better.

(Alan thinks that has a lot to do with how loud Gordon’s laughter booms across the beach, how bright Scott’s smile is, and John’s playful smirk that only ever comes out around those he’s truly comfortable with.)

And yet, despite how pleasantly full he feels and how much happiness sings in the air, there’s a weight on his chest that he cannot shift. It prickles with wrongness in the face of so much joy, and Alan feels like he’s dragging their celebrations towards misery as he sits by himself and gazes out at the ocean.

At that moment, as if he can sense Alan’s rising distress (and perhaps he can; Virg has always been weirdly perceptive about these things), Virgil plops down beside Alan and offers him a soft smile. “You good, Allie?”

Alan nods, then leans his head against Virgil’s shoulder, allowing his older brother to tuck him tighter into his side. All his brothers hug differently, but none of them truly envelop him as Virgil does. “Just thinking.”

“Warned you about that,” Virgil murmurs and Alan can hear the smile in his voice even though he can’t see it. His hand comes up to the back of Alan’s neck, and he begins massaging out the knotty tension in Alan’s neck. The relief trickles warm and grateful down Alan’s spine and he sags further into his brother, trusting and knowing that he will be held.

“I wish it could always be like this,” Alan says after a beat or two.

Virgil pauses. “Like this?”

“Like…” Alan waves a hand. “I wish Scott could always be this relaxed. And John could always be here. And we could always be this happy.” A sharp longing ache lodges in his throat, and he has to fight to get the next words out without it catching. “I wish we didn’t have to give up so much to have these moments.”

Virgil is silent for a long time, his grip tighter around Alan. “Me too,” he says at last, and it’s so un-Virgil-like to admit something even vaguely selfish that Alan would pull away to stare at him if he weren’t so damned comfortable. “But Allie—I think that’s also what makes these moments so, so precious. That we know what it is not to have them. That we know what they cost.”

“That doesn’t feel fair,” Alan says, hating the petulance in his own voice.

If Virgil were replaced by Gordon, there would be a quip about life’s not fair and a joke to distract him from the ache of it. Scott would be frantic to try and fix it, and John’s analytical mind would identify all the illogical and untrue aspects of that statement.

Virgil just holds him impossibly tighter still and meets him with an empathy Alan didn’t know he needed. “I know.”

Virgil holds him together as the aching grief of all that has been lost – all that continues to be sacrificed, and all the moments to be missed in the future – spreads and crashes over Alan—

Then all at once, the grief ebbs away like the tide retreating.

Virgil presses a kiss to Alan’s crown. “You good. Allie?” His voice is soft and warm, and Alan knows that he’ll stay as long as Alan needs him to—that he doesn’t even have to ask.

This is what makes it easier for him to nod and mean it this time.

“Want a marshmallow?”

Alan hesitates and nods, allowing Virgil to pull him up and tug him back towards the makeshift campfire. Scott, Kayo, Gordon and M.A.X have abandoned their game at last, and have squished themselves around the fire too, though they shuffle over to allow room for Virgil and Alan to squeeze in beside Scott.

“Alright?” Scott murmurs to Alan, and Alan nods. The prickling fades, tucked between his two oldest brothers, across from the jokey antics and quiet intelligence of his other two brothers, beneath the protective gaze of his sister and grandmother—and under the twinkling light of his mom’s star. He’s so damned lucky, despite it all, to be so loved like this.

“Happy Christmas,” he says softly, and Scott smiles.

“Happy Christmas, Allie.” He ruffles Alan’s hair and Alan laughs.

Christmas may not look the way he thought it would be growing up, and it may be a long time before they get to be together like this again. Another Christmas may be full of injuries or loss, and it may feel harder still to rise above the weight of their collective grief.

But Alan vows that he will do everything in his power to keep giving them Christmases like this, full of light and laughter and love.

For this Christmas is theirs and Alan will hold it tight and precious against his heart.

[universallydestinytaco]

The Little Smiling Mermaid (Chapter 6)

🌊 THANK YOU to all my 150 followers! Sorry, I didn’t get to draw an illustration this week BUT the wonderful @oskidontle had blessed me with this lovely fanart of Mer!Pim (thank you again), Please follow them and check out their own awesome Smiling Mermaids AU!✨

Charlie and Mipnessa got along swimmingly enough for two people who just met each other that day…unless, Charlie pondered, if they just-so happen to have already met! Charlie took note of how Mipnessa vaguely resembled the mystery person of whom he recalled rescuing him that morning…and while he wasn’t quite sure at first, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and potentially refresh her memory; He also had a string gut feeling that it wouldn’t be wise to potentially out her as one of the elusive merfolk out of politeness….if not being proven wrong and labeled as a silly-hearted daydream-believer. Charlie ran back to his quarters to swipe the green cloak that was left behind to gently fold it up, then he started rummaging through his closet for a perfectly-sized decorative shoebox to place inside of as a grandiose gesture to Mipnessa before running back to bequeath the gift. “Y’know I have a funny hunch that this is something you’d totally look great in.” The flattered Mipnessa giggled in response: “Showering me with gifts already? You must take a fancy to me.” Feeling overwhelmed with butterflies in his stomach, Charlie blushed with a nervous grin. Mipnessa opened the box and held up the cloak, while she admired the deep emerald green shade, she couldn’t exactly pinpoint what fabric was used for it or could she figure out why it smelled like the brine of clam chowder. “It’s beautiful, and it matches my dress way better than the shawl I’m wearing too.” Charlie replied with a fairly obvious double-meaning: “A match made in heaven.” as he held her hand and proposed: “Perfect for an atmospheric afternoon-to-evening stroll, lemme show you to the outskirts of the palace, the sunset views are amazing out there!”

Meanwhile, Alan had just caught up with the rest of the party as an eagerly-lovestruck Pim alongside a curious Glep followed Graham Nelly to the crisp shore nearby Prince Charlie’s castle. “I can’t wait to see his cute face again!” Pim squealed in delight while fidgeting his hands, Alan sternly reminded him with a business-like tone to mask his anxiety: “We’re here to fetch back your cloak, so that nobody could recognize you and drag you back to that toxic, discourse-infested mess of a palace; We also really shouldn’t stay up here for too long lest we want to be some crazed stowaway’s four-course meal.” Pim’s glee briefly turned into annoyance as he was tempted to roll his eyes at his paranoid friend’s repetitive jargon had it not been for the fact that unlike his family, Alan’s “survival mode”-demeanor was out of genuine concern and love rather than blind bigotry over land folk. When the group made it to their destination, they would come to find that much to their surprise, Charlie was indeed out-and-about, bringing an unexpected guest with him for a neat little walk by the sparkling sapphire waves. While the party of sea critters hid behind the conveniently large rock while observing the scene from a far, they all quickly took notice that the lady accompanying Charlie was wearing an accessory all too familiar to Pim, who shook his head in disbelief before taking another look to find that Charlie was clearly flirting with with her as well. While Alan started discussing a plan to swipe the cloak with Graham, Glep took notice how his buddy Pim was doing. “My cloak…” Pim quietly uttered while overwhelmed with a flurry of mixed emotions, flashing between shock, confusion, hurt feelings and jealously all boiling down into unbridled fury. Glep never saw Pim this angry since that time he was just a teenager and his sister Amy tore the lock on his diary and blurted out all his secrets, including who he was crushing on at the time. Something REALLY must have struck a cord with the usually understanding and compassionate mercritter…

Graham proposed: “We could, like, wrangle a bunch of dolphins together to create a huuuuge wave and splash it right on her so that Prince guy can offer to hang it up for her and when they leave we can snag it from a clothes line, concrete plan!” Alan argued in a snippy-yet-monotone inflection: “Yeah but there’s no clothes line anywhere near water, besides, it would take us all night to achieve that plan anyways.” Graham then got another bright idea: “I know JUST the thing, dude. I have in my collection and it’s this neat tool called a grappling hook! It’s what land folks use to retrieve items from far-away.“ Alan rolled his eyes with an exasperated yawn. “Oh really? Go off I guess.” Graham happily explained: “It’s this long-ass stick with a string attached and at the end of the string it’s a hook! and you toss it far enough and the hook catches-“ he was cut off by a loud, panicked gasp from the horrified Alan, who furiously chided Graham while using his claws as gestures to express his disgust: “You keep a literal weapon used for catching and eating our kind?!! What in Davy Jones’ locker is the matter with you?!” Graham casually shrugged, replying: “I’ve only ever seen something like this being used to catch fish only to throw them back, like they kept catching fish but it’s obvious that she was trying to retrieve something she lost down there.” Alan stood there dumbfounded with his left eye twitching for a few seconds, until he broke silence with a sigh with one claw on his face, “Look, It would just be easier for one of us to sneak up to that lady and quietly snag the cloak away from her.” Graham cheered: “That’s it!” Alan realized exactly what he had in mind and groaned: “Alright, I understand now that I have to put my big-boy shell on.” Glep piped up: “Eskewazebewaboyo!”, Pim’s face perked up at the suggestion. Graham agreed: “Hell yeah! They’ll be too distracted to notice Alan, they’ll be all like: Oh, where is that heavenly sound coming from? Ha! It’ll be a synch!” Alan gulped, “Well, here goes nothing.”

During the conversions Charlie ignited while subtly prying for clues, he had realized that Mipnessa wasn’t the mystery critter. First off, she knew how to swim but preferred to go sailing over swimming. Second she does sing but her voice was rather different from what he had in mind BUT she did play the lute well. Lastly and most glaringly obvious of all was that she had just embarked on Eustace’s ship at the same time the rescue took place and was still miles away from Gremblonia. That being said, Charlie was perfectly content with having Mipnessa as a bride, she may have not been an exotic dream girl but she was a charmingly meek and proper lady whose lute could harmonize well with his ocarina! “You know Mipnessa, I could take you sailing on our ship and go on one of my wild adventures out at sea, maybe we’ll take on a kraken or get into a gang fight with pirates.” Charlie proposed in a suave tone, in response Mipnessa sheepishly loosened up the green cloak ‘round her shoulders, replying: “…y’know, maybe I would like that.” for a brief moment that felt like forever, the two locked eyes and gazed at each other’s presence for what felt like forever. As the sunset started melting into nighttime, the most angelic voice made it’s way to the couple’s eardrums, snapping them out of their trance. Charlie started running around frantically looking for the sound as Mipnessa’s curiosity peaked, joining him as she didn’t pay any mind to Alan’s pincer clinging onto the cloak slipping off of her shoulders. Once the cloak was freed from Mipnessa’s grasp, Alan scurried back fast he could before they’d notice. Meanwhile back behind “home base”, Pim peaking behind as he vocalized his feelings with a warm, sweet a capella with a noticeable tang of seductive amour and just a hint of bitter jealousy; This was Pim’s subtly, classy way of saying out-loud: “That boy is MINE, you got nothing on me you basic bitch!!”. Just as Alan made it to just inches away from water, the lobster tripped on a pebble and got tangled up in the shawl and tried to wriggle his way out. Pim took notice, stopped what he was doing and immediately swam to the scene to finish the job.

Just then Mipnessa realized something was missing. “Oh dear, my cloak!” Charlie blushed upon seeing Mipnessa’s curvy frame accentuated by her sleeveless dress, but quickly snapped out of it. “D-don’t worry, it’s probably back where we left off.” Charlie stumbled back to where he and Mipnessa where viewing the sunset, what he discovered was more than just the cloak itself: it was none other than the mystery critter who rescued him, half-submerged in water while clad in a seashell bra, freeing what looked like a lobster that somehow got trapped inside before taking back what was rightfully theirs. Charlie stood there and froze in shock, asking himself if he was just seeing things or he was trapped in some sort of dream, as he rubbed his eyes in disbelief, the mystery critter already vanished. A tinge of guilt filled Charlie’s heart, as he wished he could have apologized for giving her cloak away, but his thoughts broke as Mipnessa was calling for him to return. Charlie ran back and tried to explain what happened but all that came out was nervous gibberish that Mipnessa initially assumed was Spammish, until he blurted: “Damn lobster made off with the cloak!!” while shaking his fist. Mipnessa giggled: “Duke Eustace was right, you are a washed-up mess of a boy!” Charlie once again froze, embarrassed, until she nudged him a with a smile and reassurance: “At least you’re not some stuck-up old prune.”

~ Damien (and the rest of the search party) spent two days looking for Pim with a nagging conscience, he swore to Neptune if he found his littlest sibling, he’d work hard on being a better brother overall. Ironically, he found a patch of sea flowers to rest upon for the night, just as he was about to lie down he saw a short, cloaked figure picking the flowers, presumably for herbal use. “Pimberly, is that you?!” All he got in response was the laughter belonging to an elderly-sounding sea critter. “Oh deary, I’m afraid I’m not the lost Princess, I’m just an old botanist making medicine.” Damien’s heart sank, his pink skin turning grey at the reveal. “But, I have seen Princess Pimberly ‘round these corners.” Damien’s eyes widened with relief, begging: “Please, tell me where!” The old wisenheimer gave a concerning hint: “I’ve seen the Princess swimming in-and-out of this grotto hauling a satchel full of the most WORTHLESS crap!” Damien pressed for more answers: “So, where is this grotto?”

🐚

Chapter 7 Coming August 9th

[king-crawler]

The Disney villain book i ordered 3 weeks ago finally came and the sleeve was oily and chafed but at least I get the fabled single paragraph of King Candy insight

this is truly a game changer

And ralf

[TEXT DESCRIPTION BELOW]

Page 166: Disney Villains: Delightfully Evil.

KING CANDY - WRECK-IT RALPH.

RELEASE DATE: November 2, 2012.

DIRECTOR: Rich Moore.

VOICE TALENT: Alan Tudyk.

ANIMATOR: Zach Parrish.

"Everyone should have known with a pass code like UP, UP, DOWN, DOWN, LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT, RIGHT, B, A, START that this sugary-sweet king was not on the up-and-up. Who in the gaming world doesn't know that cheat code?! King Candy is the ruler of Sugar Rush, a video game made of everything sweet to eat, or as a wise Wreck- It Ralph sees it, a "candy-coated heart of darkness.' " But Sugar Rush was not always such a dark place; it was once a happy kingdom where Princess Vanellope von Schweetz ruled until an evil racer from a game called Turbo Time messed with her code and took her game for his own. The biggest shock? King Candy and that villainous racer known as Turbo are one and the same. Alan Tudyk, the voice of King Candy, said he had imagined King Candy to be a much bigger character, size-wise, and found it really funny that he was actually such a small man."

“Portrait of King Candy. Artist: Clay Loftis. Medium: Digital."

“Final Frames of Turbo from Wreck-It Ralph (2012)”

"Concept art of Turbo. Artist: Jim Kim. Medium: digital."

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WRECK-IT RALPH - Wreck-It Ralph.

RELEASE DATE: November 2, 2012.

DIRECTOR: Rich Moore.

VOICE TALENT: John C. Reilly

ANIMATOR: Nik Ranieri

“Wreck-It Ralph is a "bad guy" who has been forced to spend every day for the last thirty years trying to destroy the apartment building that took his home away and to thwart Fix-It Felix from fixing everything Ralph wrecks. After "wrecking" the thirtieth anniversary celebration of his game, Ralph decides to go on a quest to earn a medal and prove to everyone, including himself, that he can be a good guy and do good things. In an interview with the Los Angeles Times, director Rich Moore said that the idea for Wreck-It Ralph came when he was asked by Walt Disney Animation Studios to revamp an idea they had been working on for a while: a movie that takes place in a video game. "Video game characters do the same job every day," said Moore. "I don't know how you could tell a story about that, and then it kind of hits me. ... What if the main character did not like his job? If you had a character who is actually wondering: Is this all there is to life?" "

Concept Art of Vanellope and Ralph. Artist: Bill Schwab. Medium: digital.

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Story sketches of Ralph. Artist: Jim Kim. Medium: Graphite

Final character pose of Ralph.

Final frame of ralph with the Bad-Anon support group from Wreck-It Ralph, 2012.

“Bad-Anon-One Game at a Time

"I'm bad, and that's good. I will never be good, and that's not bad. There's no one I'd rather be than me."

-The Bad Guy Affirmation

Evervone needs a little help from their friends, even if their friends are a group of "bad guys." Bad-Anon is a place where the who's who of gaming bad guys can meet and talk about their feelings and what it is like to always be the one everyone loves to beat. Here are some of the familiar faces from the video games of the 1980s and 1990s.”

Bowser--King Koopa from Super Mario Bros.

Clyde--Ghost from Pac-Man.

Dr. Robotnik- -as himself from Sonic the Hedgehog.

Kano--as himself from Mortal Kombat.

M. Bison--as himself from Street Fighter.

Neff-as himself from Altered Beast.

Zangief-Red Cyclone from the Street Fighter series.

[TEXT DESCRIPTION END]

[festivalsofmargot]

Sour Times

{Bully!Sebastian Sallow x Bullied!GN!Hufflepuff!}

Introduction: Slight deviation from the official HL story. Rather than everyone being intrigued at your unique arrival to Hogwarts, it’s a badge of dishonor to develop your magic so late. Hufflepuffs have a pathetic reputation, and you’ve been sorted into their house. The only reason Sebastian puts up with you is because he needs your ancient magic... and because he wants you all to himself. But he’d never tell, not when the whole school would start picking on and laughing at him like they did you. Yet, when he sees the way you look at Garreth Weasley, he wonders if everyone else’s approval means anything at all.

Word Count: ~ 6,350

Warnings: Kissing, Angst, Bullying

Author’s Note: I finally finished! 🥳 Us Hufflepuffs always get dunked on and I wanted to play around with that. I watched A Silent Voice and Normal People and couldn’t stop thinking about bully-to-lover scenarios. I’ve proofread so many times but I know I’m missing something, gonna do that thing where I get sneaky and edit here and there. Long one today so kick back, grab a snack, do hot people shit, enjoy 😘

Songs (if interested):

Sour Times - Portishead

Intro/Spectrum - HAELOS

September - Instrumental - Sparky Deathcap (oh... cara mia, how i love him)

Heather - Conan Gray

chance with you - mehro

Awaken - Dario Marianelli, Jack Liebeck, Benjamin Wallfisch

“We know that from time to time, there arise among human beings, people who seem to exude love as naturally as the sun gives out heat.”

- Alan W. Watts

-

As you meandered down the halls to your next class, holding your books with one hand and the other resting in your pocket, someone had grabbed your arm, tugging you behind a corner, causing you to drop your belongings. Whoever it was slammed your back into the wall, then propped up a hand next to your head to trap you in place.

You looked up and met the eyes of your abductor. This position wasn’t anything new to you, though it was new to be here with Sebastian Sallow. 

Someone was always trying to mess with you or ruin your day. Being a late bloomer with magic and getting sorted into Hufflepuff hadn’t done you any favors. Other than that, there wasn’t anything wrong with you per se, it was just your social standing at Hogwarts. Even some Hufflepuffs wanted nothing to do with you, believing you made their house even more embarrassing to be in. Yet, that didn’t stop any of the student body from threatening you to do favors for them. 

“Heard that you can wield ancient magic. Is it true?”

Your furrowed your brows, wondering how word could spread that quickly. But you suppose the magic you used on the troll in Hogsmeade hadn’t been very discreet. Too bad they gave all the credit to Natsai Onai, you might have made some friends with your troll takedown story.

Shifting your gaze down, you nodded your head.

“Prove it.” He held out a folded piece of parchment, the all too familiar blue glow emanating from it.

You took it from his hands and unfolded it to see rune symbols you’d encountered countless times. “Where did you get this?”

“Doesn’t matter, do you recognize those rune symbols?”

You nodded your head looking over the pages. “I see these whenever I need to unlock a door with ancient magic.”

Sebastian’s breath hitched and you finally met his heavy stare. He cleared his throat and regained his composure. “Exactly. And you’re going to come with me to open one I found.”

You folded the parchment back up and held it out to him. “Okay.”

He snatched it from your hands. “Don’t toy with me. If you don’t help me with this, I can make your life truly miserable here. I’m good friends with Ominis Gaunt, and he’s not afraid to use his family connections to -”

“I said okay.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at you, not knowing what you were playing at.

“Write me when you have a time and place.” You told him, exhausted.

He eyed you a moment longer, then stepped aside for you to leave. You picked up your books from the ground and kicked the dirt at your feet as you left, taking your time getting to your next class.

“So you’re going to help me? Just like that?” He called after you when he saw it was still just the two of you in the hall.

“Got nothing better to do.” You replied as you kept on your way.

-

Sebastian was the first person to ask for something and come along with you to get it done. Most people would just send you off, but there he was, exploring the cave and fighting giant spiders by your side.

That little outing turned out to be the first of many. Over time, Sebastian explained his sister’s curse and everything he had done to try to find a cure. He kept it to himself, but he was happy to find someone he could go through this journey with, someone who wasn’t trying to make him abandon hope, even if it was the Hogwarts outcast.

You made the mistake of assuming this meant you were friends in public. When you tried to approach him at Hogwarts, he looked at you as if you had grown horns. He caught sight of a few students whispering to each other and glancing your way. In a panic, he knocked the books from your hands, scattering them to the floor. 

“Looks like the Hufflepuff had a little accident.” He jested loud enough for everyone around to hear. He walked away to meet up with some other Slytherin students who were in hysterics at what he had just done. He glanced back your way and it took everything in him to keep the amused look on his face. You were picking your books up off the floor and Garreth Weasley had come to help you. Sebastian noticed he had said something to cheer you up and it brought a smile to your face. 

And then a thought surfaced in his head. I think I'd rather be the one who made you smile.

-

Sebastian’s public displays of discourtesy hadn’t let up. He felt awful, but he couldn’t stand the scrutiny he would get if he was seen with you. Just because he could see all these wonderful qualities in you, didn’t mean everyone else could. The Slytherins especially would give him a tough time. He would get defensive, spewing every excuse he could think of. “Don’t be daft. I only needed to see the Hufflepuff about charms class, nothing more.” 

The guilt ate away at him. So when the two of you came across the scriptorium door that could only be opened by casting the cruciatus curse, he felt this could be his penance. But you refused to cast it on him.

He fisted the fabric of your shirt, jerking you towards him. “Dammit, why not?!” He demanded, incredulous. Dread arose in him, because he knew if he casted it on you he would be causing true agony. Everything he had done to you at Hogwarts was an act of rudeness, he never wanted to do anything that caused you pain in this way.

“Because I wouldn’t mean it.”

His face recoiled as if you had slapped him. He was unable to believe it. After all you’ve put up with, how could you not mean to harm him, how could you not want to? “I have been nothing but cruel to you, this is your chance to be cruel back! I know you hate me! I know you hate everyone!”

“I don’t hate you.” You placed your hands atop his that were gripping your shirt, in hopes it would calm him down. “Cast it on me, Sebastian. Get us out of here.”

Sebastian released your shirt, shoving you back. He turned away from you and rubbed a steadying hand down his face. Using the frustration he felt with you then, he spun to face you and recited, “Crucio!”

You fell to the floor, your screams of suffering echoed through his head.

Sebastian shot up in bed in a cold sweat, breathing coming out uneven. He rubbed his face in his hands and let out a shaky sigh. Ever since the scriptorium, he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep, the nightmare had kept replaying in his head.

-

You arrived back at the entrance of the Hufflepuff common room rather late in the night. It was passed curfew but you wanted to get all of Sirona’s lost letters back to her. Seeing the look on her face had made missing out on a few hours of sleep all worth it. 

You startled when you saw a figure move out from the darkness. It was Sebastian, his eyes were red and puffy, dark circles had formed under them.

“Sebast -”

“Why’d you have me do it?” He demanded, his voice cracking. “Why couldn’t you -” He couldn’t stop the tears that fell. His shoulders began to shake as breathy sobs escaped him.

You ran up and pulled him into your arms, gently guiding his head down to your shoulder, and he let himself cry. “I’m okay. Everything’s okay.” You soothed.

He was the one who casted crucio on you, yet here you were comforting him. He felt worthless. You weren’t like anyone he had ever met. You never wanted anything in return, doing things purely out of the kindness of your heart even if it nearly killed you. He couldn’t grasp such a concept, and it overwhelmed him.

He went on his knees before you and took your hand into both of his. “Cast it on me. Please, it’s the only way I can make it all right. I did the wrong thing and I need to make it all right.” He pleaded.

You knelt on the ground with him, meeting his level. You pulled your hand from his and placed it on his cheek. You tried to meet his eyes. “Look at me. I will never do that to you.”

Though you meant for the words to comfort him, they felt like a knife to his chest. He smacked your hand away and scrambled to his feet, running out of sight.

He knew it then as he arrived back at his dorm room, and he let himself feel it entirely, as if he were punishing himself. He was in love with you, and he could never have you, not after everything he had done.

-

In the time that followed, Sebastian had wanted to act as if the scriptorium and his confrontation with you never happened. You kept an eye on him but went along with it. Your discreet meetings and his insults towards you resumed.

When Sebastian asked to meet briefly about information on a relic he had found in Salazar Slytherin’s spellbook, it was a good day for the both of you.

Your face was bright and ecstatic as you looked down at the thunderbrew potion in your hands. “It took me forever to get the ingredients, but I think I got a knack for brewing.” You couldn’t help but gush to Sebastian, trying to stifle your giggles and keep your voice low so no one around the two of you could hear. 

Sebastian didn’t dare let it grow, but a charmed smile tugged at the corner of his lips. If he was going to react to you, he'd try to make it look like you were a nuisance to be around.

“Do you think if - well, I mean - what would you think if -” You began timidly, biting at your lip. Sebastian didn’t look at you, but he listened close, clinging to each word you left him on. “Do you think Garreth would be impressed if I showed him?”

And away went any temptation to smile, he opened the book in his hand to act like he was reading. He discovered that to be the consequence whenever he found himself being pulled towards you, he’d always get slapped with the reality that you were pulled towards Garreth. The other day, when everyone was standing around waiting for Defense Against the Dark Arts class to start, he caught sight of you looking out the window, the sunlight painted your features bewitchingly. He made his way over and saw you were watching Garreth playing Summoner’s Court. “Day dreaming you were actually useful in this class, Hufflepuff?” He had taunted. He’d claim it was to keep up the act but it was really in response to the hurt he felt. The pain only worsened when you glanced his way fleetingly and went right back to watching Garreth with undivided attention.

You noted his silence and felt stupid for even bringing it up to him. “Sorry, I got carried away. I know you don’t care.”

“I think Weasley will soil his breeches no matter what potion you show him.” He said bitterly. “Why do you think he’s so great anyway?”

You didn’t answer and Sebastian looked up to see your gaze following the red headed boy as he walked by, laughing along with a few other students. His stomach twisted uncomfortably and he looked back down to his book, eyes scanning the words but not taking them in.

“He’s the only person who’s been nice to me since day one. But I think that’s just who he is, looks like he’s nice to everyone.” You said the last part more to yourself. A chill went through the air and you began to shiver, seemingly too distracted to care due to where your attention laid.

“Where are your robes?” Sebastian tried to keep his voice monotone.

“Just forgot them is all.” Your eyes followed Garreth until he stopped walking to speak with some of his friends.

“Here. Take mine.” Sebastian exhaled as if he were annoyed, but he wasn’t. He was in earnest at the thought of wrapping you up in his robes.

You turned your attention back to him and shook your head. “No no, people will see. It’s alright.” Gaze returning to Garreth.

Sebastian stopped, robes halfway down his arms, then he shrugged them back on. “Oh... right.” He watched you shift back and forth on your feet, your fingers tapping against the potion’s flask. He could see the ache to run to the Gryffindor clear as day on your face.

“Send me an owl if anything else comes up for the relic.” You said without looking at him, and made your way over to Garreth.

He knew he should turn the other way and act like he was never speaking to you in the first place, as he always did after your furtive meetups. Yet his eyes remained glued to your form. As he watched you talking to Garreth with a beaming smile, laughing along with him as you showed him your thunderbrew potion, insurmountable heartache filled his chest. 

It had finally hit him how he couldn’t care less what people thought, they didn’t even know you. No one knew you like he did, especially not Weasley. If everyone saw you through his eyes, they could easily see you were one of the most capable people at Hogwarts. If all it took to win you over was being kind to you since the beginning, he wanted to kick himself. I’ve been the biggest prat.

How could he have treated you the way he had? Asking for your help all this time, but not wanting to be seen with you in public. He had been nothing short of a coward. His fear of what others thought had led him to lose any chance with you. You were the one that’s helped him through this nightmare of a curse on his sister, you were the one willing to take on immense agony in the scriptorium for him, you were the one he yearned for. He could say the same for none of these people.

The blood drained from Sebastian’s face when he witnessed Garreth slip off his Gryffindor robes and put them on you. It was as if the wind was knocked out of him, his breathing started coming out shallow. He told himself to get out of there. 

The first place he could think of was his dorm. He had tunnel vision the whole way there, a few students had asked if he was feeling alright as he passed. He waved them off, saying something about a potion brew gone wrong, he couldn’t fully remember. When he got to his dorm room, he burst through the door and sat at the edge of his bed. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and tried to steady his breathing. As soon as the sick feeling in his stomach started to dissipate, he laid back, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“What’s gotten into you?” Ominis asked, sitting himself on his own bed.

It took Sebastian a moment to be able to speak. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath. “Nothing, I’m fine. Just feeling a little sick is all.”

“Is this about the Hufflepuff who helped us in the sciptorium?”

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, and that was the only answer Ominis needed.

“Nobody cares you know. Sure it’s fun to make fun of a Hufflepuff, that’s nothing new. And one that developed their magic so late? Easy target. But in the end, no one cares. After everything that’s happened, it’s no surprise you feel the way you do.” Ominis never hesitated to call people out, but every now and then he had a way of saying what needed to be said without making someone feel too ashamed.

Sebastian should have known this, he should have had this conversation with himself before it could have gotten this far. He felt like such a child then, laying in his bed, pouting at the predicament he put himself in. But it was hard to pick himself back up, he felt his relationship with you was unsalvageable at this point and it was his fault. He was the nuisance you had to put up with because of that pesky Hufflepuff loyalty of yours, and Garreth was your escape. Garreth could make you happy just by being in your line of sight. He could only dream of having that effect on you at this point.

-

Sebastian had searched for you all day but to no avail. As a last resort, he made his way to the undercroft, he cringed thinking back on the time he first showed it to you. “I’m only showing you this place so we won’t be seen working together. You’re not welcome here if I’m not here.” It wasn’t true, but how would you have ever known otherwise? He had been so cruel to you, it was no wonder you wanted to run into Garreth’s arms. He had practically shoved you his way. 

The sound of sniffling stopped him in his tracks. He pressed forward cautiously and saw you were sitting on the floor against the wall with your head down.

“What’s happened?” Sebastian strode up and knelt before you.

“Oh! Sebastian.” You startled. “I - I’m sorry, I’ll leave. Just allergies. Came down here to escape all that pollen.” You wiped at your face quickly, he could tell your eyes were puffy from crying.

His inner voice was screaming at him that this was his chance, as of that moment he could start taking steps in the right direction with you. He could become the person you wanted, slowly but surely. “Talk to me.” He sat beside you and took your hand in his, he began stroking it with his thumb in hopes it gave you some comfort.

You were taken aback by his actions, but then surmised that was probably how much he pitied you. You felt humiliated at the thought. The Hufflepuff got caught crying like a sad baby bird in the rain, who wouldn’t feel bad? You pulled your hand free from his. “It’s nothing, I just needed a moment. I’m truly sorry I came down here without you, I couldn’t think of any other place. I - I panicked.” You got up and began your escape out. “It won’t happen again.”

Sebastian tripped over himself as he went to chase after you. He ran up and wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you in place. “Don’t go. Please, talk to me.”

His touch felt wrong to you and you slid free from his embrace. You didn’t feel safe with Sebastian, you didn’t feel safe with anyone at Hogwarts for that matter. But the look on his face had convinced you somewhat he wanted to know what was wrong. “I just had a bad day.” 

He took a step towards you, hoping you would keep going. 

You rolled your eyes at the foolishness you felt. “I worked up the courage to speak to Garreth about how I felt and -” You stopped and shook your head. “This is stupid, I don’t know why I’m telling you this -”

“What did he do?” His voice was direct, body stiffening.

You let out a sigh, hating that you were revisiting the memory. You looked down and began twiddling your thumbs. “I told Garreth how I felt and asked him on a date to The Three Broomsticks. He laughed in my face and said no. Said he’d be friendly with me in public but he wasn’t going to be seen on a date with me. And then he said we could still have some fun in private together.” You recalled the incident, disgusted. “But what else should I have expected? You said it yourself, no one wants to be seen with someone like me.”

Sebastian had never seen your features turn so harsh, and he hadn’t hated himself more than he did in that moment. "I never should have said that to you. Please, you have to know I never meant it.” 

Your eyes didn’t meet his, he could tell you were still angry, not just with him, but with the world. He was surprised you didn’t get to this point sooner. Hufflepuffs really could put up with a lot before they’d had enough. 

Sure, he wanted you to have feelings for him, but more than anything he wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him. Seeing your hurt expression then, he wanted to step up more than ever. “No good prick.” Sebastian dug his heels in the ground to storm out of the undercroft. “I’m going to kill him.”

Your eyes went wide. “What? No, it’s alright! Forget I said anything!” You grabbed his wrist trying to hold him back, but he just kept walking, dragging you along with him. “W - What happened to staying out of each other’s lives? You don’t owe me anything, Sebastian! Just drop it!”

Sebastian stopped to face you, he used the grip you had on his wrist and yanked you to him. He steadied you as you crashed into him, taking your face in his other hand and placing his lips atop yours. He wanted to convey everything he felt for you in that kiss, every thank you he should have said, every apology he should have made. You didn’t deserve any of the treatment you got at Hogwarts, especially from him. 

His brows furrowed as he deepened the kiss. He tried to be tender, but the urgency was what took over with how he moved his lips against yours. Your grip fell from his wrist in shock and he used his now free hand to grab your waist and pull you flush to him. He felt you kiss him back, but with hesitancy, and then you pushed him away.

He looked at your stunned expression, “This feels wrong.” You whispered.

Shoving down the sting he felt at your rejection, he strode out of the undercroft, leaving you standing there, dumbfounded.

-

Sebastian spotted Garreth in the middle of the quidditch field, joking around with some friends. “Oi, Weasley!” He called as he strode up to the red head.

Garreth turned away from his group. “Yeah? What is it, Sall-” His words were cutoff when Sebastian punched him square in the jaw. He shot a hand up to where the throbbing began to kick in. “What in Merlin’s na - OOMF!” Sebastian rammed into his gut, tackling him to the ground. It finally kicked in what was happening and Garreth began to shove and punch back. Nearby students gathered around in a circle, hooting and hollering for them to keep going.

“Show that Gryffindor how it’s done, Sallow!”

“Get him good, Weasley!”

“Levioso!” Sebastian and Garreth were pulled apart and lifted into the air at Madam Kogawa’s spell cast. The two boys eyed each other, bruised and bloody, wanting to go back at it as she approached. 

“I see detentions are in order.”

-

When Garreth confronted him, demanding what his deal was, Sebastian had dug into him. Shoving his finger into his chest, telling him he didn’t deserve someone like you.

“Oh please, as if you’re not doing the exact same thing. Everyone sees the ‘secret’ meetings the two of you have. I hardly think you’re the person to fault me.”

Sebastian couldn’t say anything in retaliation, because he was right. He deserved every punch and kick Weasley landed. But things were different now, and he was going to stop at nothing to prove it to you.

-

Sebastian leaned against the kegs just outside the Hufflepuff common room. He stood up straight when the entrance opened and you stepped out. Your gaze landed on him and your face twisted at his state.

“Are you alright?” You ran up to him and gently grabbed his chin to begin examining his bruising. Remembering you two weren’t in private, you yanked your hand back. “Sorry.” You glanced around to make sure no one had seen. It pained him, that after all the time you spent together, this was the habit he enforced in you. He grabbed at your hand and placed it against his cheek.

“I’m fine.” He thought about his next words carefully. “I'm not ashamed to be seen with you.” He began. “I’m so sorry I ever told you I was. I haven’t been there for you. If I could go back, I’d do it all differently. I really would.”

You avoided his gaze and looked down, pulling your hand away. His touch still felt wrong, and thinking about his kiss in the undercroft made you just as uneasy. Everything was so backwards, your mind couldn’t keep up. Not long ago, Garreth was the one being kind to you while Sebastian was itching to get as far away from you as possible. And now, Garreth had you repulsed and Sebastian had an avid interest to be by your side. You were in a constant state of confusion and had a strange desire for things to go back to how they were.

“Sebastian...” Your defenses went up as he moved closer to you, wanting to show you he was listening. “I’m going to be honest, I don’t believe you. All year you’ve dreaded being around me and now I’m supposed to believe your feelings changed just like that?”

Sebastian nodded his head, seeing what you were saying. He shouldn’t have expected you to be okay with all this just because he said so. “I understand. I’ve been awful to you. But I can make it all up to you, you’ll see. I can be what you want.”

You tried to search his eyes for some sort of reason for this shift in him, still not really taking in his words. “I think I need some space.” You were sick of boys playing with your feelings like this. There was only so much you could take. Pretty impressive trait of Hufflepuffs, anyone else would have felt worn thin ages ago.

Sebastian swallowed thickly and nodded his head. He forced a polite smile and left at the nearest floo.

He needs his space too. You thought. That way he’ll get over these feelings he supposedly has for you. You didn’t believe him for a second. You’ve seen other students swooning over each other. It definitely wasn’t what was happening between you and Sebastian Sallow. The only experiences you’ve had with him were secret meetings and him getting humiliated if someone associated the two of you together. He expected all that to just go away with one secret kiss? It wasn’t going to happen.

Maybe he went after someone else and they rejected him, and he was so desperate for affection he came to me. You concluded.

-

The days that followed, Sebastian kept his distance from you without really keeping his distance. Every morning, he got up early to get a flower from the fields surrounding Hogwarts, each one different than the day before. Whenever you got up from your desk or left your books unattended, he would cast the disillusionment spell on himself and place the flower in your book for you to stumble across later.

He didn’t need to see your reaction to it, but every now and then if you were in the same area, he’d be on the lookout for it. Sebastian watched from afar as you began looking through your book on a bench in the Transfiguration Courtyard. But his blood started to boil when he saw Garreth make his way over and sit down next to you. 

You looked up from your book, a questioning look on your face. 

Garreth was visibly nervous and wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you the other day. My mother raised me better than that.” 

You hummed as you looked across his features, noticing he was bruised up like Sebastian was. “What happened to you?”

Garreth scratched the back of his head. “Got some sense knocked into me by your friend, Sallow.”

“He’s not my friend.” You said plainly, trying to bring your attention back to your book. A part of you was annoyed Sebastian had actually followed through with going after Garreth, and another part was a little pleased the both of them landed strikes on the other.

He looked to your face then. “I really do like you, you know.” He confessed, and you returned his gaze. He was looking at you like he was sorry this wasn’t what he had said to you in the first place. “But I felt the pressure of everyone, and I told myself I should be embarrassed to be around you. But I’m not. Everyone else can sod off, I can see everything you’re doing even if they refuse to. You’re nothing short of incredible. I truly am sorry for what I said.”

You gave him a small nod. “Apology accepted.”

He smiled and let out a sigh of relief, then held out his hand. “Friends?”

You took it and shook. “Friends.”

He held your hand in his when you tried to pull away. “Don’t suppose that date to Three Broomsticks is still on the table?”

You scoffed but went silent when you saw he was serious. You shook your head and pulled your hand from his grasp.

“Right.” He looked down dejectedly. “Guess I deserved that, didn’t I?” He chuckled awkwardly, getting up and clearing his throat. “I’ll see you around then.” His voice was strained.

Sebastian watched as Garreth left you and made his way over to him. The red head gave him a cordial slap on the shoulder as he walked passed. “Looks like we both blew it, Sallow.” 

-

You hated to admit it, but Sebastian was making some headway with you. It had been at least a few weeks since you told him you needed space, and he had given it to you. You thought it would be the easiest thing in the world for him to do, but he looked like he was struggling. Every time you caught each other’s eye, he looked like he was holding his breath, hoping that would be the day you’d approach him. You thought it’d wear off after a bit, and the distance between the two of you would have him come to his senses. But he seemed undeterred, just as dedicated as the day before if not more so.

You especially hated to admit that every time you found a flower in your books, the flutter in your chest would grow. Each time you needed to talk yourself down, because any day now Sebastian would give up and go back to only wanting to see you about his progress on getting a cure for Anne. 

But then you’d think about how he kissed you. There was so much need in it. In the moment it felt off. But the more your revisited the memory, thinking back on how his lips moved against yours, you got this feeling of being genuinely wanted, perfectly safe. And that sense came from Sebastian Sallow of all people?

You watched him as he took notes in charms class. He was pretty good looking, wasn’t he? You came to notice these passed few weeks now that he was being kind to you. 

He looked up from his notes and glanced your way. You held his gaze when he did, giving him a soft smile. His eyes grew wide and he became fidgety in his seat. He smiled back and his ears burned red. It was the most he’d gotten from you and he didn’t know how to handle it. 

You looked back down to your notes and he looked back down at his, trying to contain his giddiness. He felt like he made a huge leap in progress and he couldn’t wait to keep going. It was just a smile, but it was the only sign he needed that he was headed in the right direction with you. He wondered if he should keep going with the flowers or step it up a bit. He wanted to respect your wishes and keep his distance, but he also wanted to do more for you.

He was so lost in thought, he didn’t notice you approach when class was dismissed. “Sebastian?”

He stiffened, panic flooding through him. He was mentally preparing to chase after you from afar, he didn’t think he’d have the right words to say face to face yet. But he willed himself to speak anyway. “Yes?”

“Walk with me to herbology?” You eyed him, like you were testing him.

Sebastian knew what you were doing, this would be the first time he’d be seen with you in public willingly and not act like he was being forced to speak with you. Bring it on. “Of course.” Sebastian grabbed your books and smiled at your surprised expression. “Come on then.”

You joined his side and as you walked with him, you noticed he wasn’t rushing. He was taking his time getting to your next class. You had to admit, you expected him to want to speed up the process to get it over with and minimize the amount of people who saw the two of you together. But instead, he let himself look smitten as he stood by your side.

The whispers and glances started up as the two of you walked along. He looked to you and noticed you didn’t seem quite as at ease as he was. He gave you a playful nudge with his shoulder and you couldn’t fight the smile that graced your lips. He was making butterflies dance in your stomach and a funny ache for him grew. You peeked back at him and the way he was smiling at you made you want to tug at his tie and have him kiss you senseless again. Calm down, don’t let him win you over yet. You lectured yourself.

When the two of you arrived in herbology, he made sure to grab a potting station next to yours. Professor Garlick called everyone up to grab some seeds for the day’s class. As you were about to go up with everyone else, he wrapped an arm around your waist to stop you. “I’ll get it.” He said in a low tone near your ear. His hand lingered and dragged across your waist until he was too far to touch you anymore. He shot you a smirk over his shoulder as he walked away.

That funny ache you felt turned into something simmering hot within you. When he came back with the mallowsweet seeds, he took your hand in his and placed them on your palm. His fingers dragged across your hand and you peered at him through your lashes. 

“Be careful.” He said, releasing you and turning to his potting station. “You look like you want to kiss me.”

A burning sensation hit your cheeks and you turned to your own station. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Silly me then.” 

The two of you focused, or at least tried to, on your pots before you. You planted the seeds and padded down the soil, then awaited further instruction from Professor Garlick. But you tuned her words out as you eyed Sebastian up and down. Thankfully, you were already experienced with mallowsweet, so you weren’t too concerned about falling behind.

Sebastian watched you through the corner of his eye, he could feel your eyes on him and it drove him mad. As soon as class was over, he was going to try to reenact the first time he demanded your help. Except this time when he pulled you into a hidden corner, there wouldn’t be as much talking. His jaw clenched at the anticipation.

You usually enjoyed herbology, but that day’s class was dragging on a little too long. Your mind billowed with thoughts of Sebastian’s lips and ideas of how you were going to get them back on yours.

“Class dismissed.” Professor Garlick sang. You and Sebastian immediately looked to one another, knowing exactly what you wanted to do, but unsure how you were going to get there.

“I think I -” You began, not really knowing where you were going to take your words. “I think I left something in the undercroft.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything as he grabbed your hand and pulled you along. 

Once the two of you arrived in the undercroft, he closed the gate behind you and pressed you up against the nearest wall, slamming his mouth against yours. The two of you wanted to devour each other whole. A muffled moan escaped you and you cupped his face in your hands. His hands gripped your hips greedily as he tried to savor every sound he could get from you.

Unable to keep in one place long with so much of you available to him, he began kissing along your jaw, down your neck, below your ear. He could feel you quiver at his kisses and he wanted to do everything he could to keep you squirming.

You whimpered, and he knew he found the spot below your ear to be your weakness. “I... I think we left our books in herbology.” You breathed pleasantly as he kept at it.

Sebastian hummed as he continued his magic. “Such a shame.” He knew he still had a ways to go with you. No matter how long it would take him, he was going to make things right. But if he could tempt you into a kiss here and there along the way, he hoped you wouldn’t mind.

[drowninginblox]

Mutant Freedom Now

X2 Kurt x Reader (Part 1?)

Well look at this- ya girl made one for X2! Yeah. this was mostly for a friend. Alan Cumming's rendition is alright but he's not my fav. (nothin' against the fox girlies! I got into this mess through them lmao) Anyways I hope you guys enjoy this start. Don't worry, that Bridgerton AU I started forever ago is still on my mind. I'm just having a bit of a time right now.

Yall know the drill- 2nd person POV There is a leaning towards the reader being fem Go in with the warning that there is more German bc other than the accent the writers kind of forgot that.

BTW- X2 Script for ref. It helped a bit for this fic

Stumbling into a church was the last thing you'd thought you'd do. After all, the house of god is no place for sinners like you. As if your porn addiction isn't enough, late-stage puberty gave you the gift of intuition too good to dismiss.

It's how you outed the head priest at church for being a cheater, how you found out your best friend was paid to be by your side by your parents, how you learned that the only reason you made it this far was your dear old dad's money and mommy's 'salacious acts'. You wouldn't think that cuckolding would be a silver lining. But hey, it got you into college. The sting of knowing it wasn't because of your merit hasn't gone away, yet. One day though. Once you've finished college, move on from your parents, and make it big on your own. Hopefully.

But that was not tonight. No, the mutation engine was revving, and you knew better than to ignore it. So here you were, walking around in the middle of the night, freezing your ass off because of the instinctual hunch that's gotten you this far in life. Amazing, truly.

"Miles, I have walked what damn well could be 500 miles and it still won't be worth the amount of time I have wasted. I swear to god, If this isn't a life or death situation-" You huffed under your breath. The vapor of Boston's early spring still evoked the cold.

Your feet led you to a decrepit old church. The sight made you swear as you could hear the creek of worn doors from your place on the sidewalk. "Are you fucking kidding me..." You huffed but that didn't change the tug you felt from within you. Everything about this was a screaming horror movie in the making. From the lack of light inside to the sheer size of the place. As if the religious guilt wasn't enough, the place damn near loomed over you the longer you look into its stained glass window. Forcing comforting thoughts yielded "This would be a metal place to die." and "I wonder who's smoking in there." Yet the tug didn't yield. In fact, it felt stronger the more you lingered. Sighing through this was the only thing to do now as praying to a god you didn't believe in would be something you wouldn't forgive yourself for.

So you pull out your aunt's walkman as a last-ditch effort of comfort. "Let's see what I'm gonna be murdered to..." You mumbled. A click of the tape yielded Lucy and The Sky of Diamonds. Not the worst choice, but definitely not the best. You couldn't be bothered to fast forward as the cringe was the best distraction you're gonna get from this Friday the 13th looking set up. Another puff of warm air goins the cold as a sigh breaks away.

Each step to the cathedral felt like a herculean task. Past decisions and questions of what waited for you weighed you down yet the tug persisted to the point of pulling you to the ominous doors. "Hail Mary, full of grace- tell me what's behind door number one!" You huffed. The door opened with your heave, groaning at your assault. "I do not get paid enough for this," You wheezed from the exertion. A slew of coughs followed suit after the greeting of dust and the smell of age met you with open arms.

Clearing your watering eyes allowed a sense of relief. The interior wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. Abandoned pews, a central aisle, and a makeshift stage/alter area were all there was to this place. At least on first viewing. in your books, it was always good to be met with nothing in the beginning. That leaves just enough time to brace for the trainwreck. Aside from that, it wasn't a bad place to hang out if mold or rats hadn't made themselves at home already. "Okay..." You mumbled as you looked around. Hesitation crept in but was squashed with a defining step. Then another, and another, until the next thing you know, you're a yard inside the house of god with nothing but the highlights of the Bettle's high-life ringing in your ears.

You could only mumble along to the chorus as you took a more thorough look around the place. "Lucy and the sky of die-monds..." You tried to dance a little to ease the tension and make yourself laugh, the trick allowing a small smile to creep along your face. Once the pews were searched, you looked out to the greater church. Another daring step inside startled some settled pidgins, making you wince. Metal creaked from somewhere you couldn't see. A sense of tension you chose to ignore hung heavy in the air. "If anyone is there," You spoke, your voice getting a little louder as you continued into the darkness "Know I'm not here to hurt you. And... whatever is going on, I'm not gonna call the hog-squad." You chuckled a little only to bite your lip in embarrassment followed up by clarification "Th-the cops, I mean. I'm not gonna call them." You hold up your hands hesitantly. "I-I'm unarmed too... if that helps." Something in the back of your mind screams to turn around and run, yet you remain planted in your spot as a groan echos. "Steigen sie aus. Get out."

The voice only yields a raised brow. "Gesundheit?" You offered as you lowered your hands. A sound resembling a puff of a noise comes from nearby. "Geht! Ich bin ein minion des Teufels!" You turn only to see nothing. "Huh?" Another alien sound follows from another direction, followed by another and another. "Dude, I just wanna talk! That's it! I can't leave until I do!" Another sound follows and you just sigh as a string of what you assume to be German follows. Rather than indulging the stranger, you just wait him out from a nearby pew. Sitting and praying to yourself that they speak something you know. "As if the walk wasn't exhausting enough." You mumbled before closing your eyes.

Eventually, they take the hint, quieting down before another poof of a noise can be heard from overhead. You open your eyes to be met with stark yellows. "Are you done yet?" You call. From what you could make out in the darkness, they seem to cock their head. "Do you understand English?" There's a beat of what can only be apprehension. "Listen, you don't gotta come down. I just wanna understand why I'm here... Because, well, I was willed here. And since I'm tied to the plot, I can't leave." You urge. "I've walked all the way from UofB, I am operating on a Cup of noodles, and I haven't had a good day. Please, for the love of all things holy and non, cut me a break man." They gauge you for a long time before speaking again. "It's not that I don't want to talk, I just don't want to scare you, fräulein." You could only sigh in relief. "Is that all?" You joke. Somehow, you can see the glimmer in his eyes. "Dude, I walked in on my parents. I've seen hell. It can't be worse than that." There's a slight scoff from above.

"How about this, we talk somewhere where you are comfortable, face to face, and I keep my eyes closed through all of it." You offer with a shrug. "Or we can keep talking like this. I'm not opposed to height differences." There's a simple chuckle. It's short and small, but light and fluffy. For some reason your heart stutters.

"You... you promise to close your eyes?" You cross your heart. "May god strike me down for wronging you in his house." That eases him as his eyes get closer. "Then... close them." You do so, and the next thing you know, the world is nothing but darkness.

The poof of noise sounds off in front of you, making the temptation to open your eyes greater. Yet you are in a place of hope and a in situation built on trust. "Do you mind if I touch you?" He murmurs. His accent laces through his words in a way that makes your ears warm. "Um- yeah, sure." Your compliance is met with nimble, shakly hands on your upper arms. If the uncertainty of his actions wasn't made clear enough, his voice was a dead giveaway. "S-stand up..." You do so and he leads you out of the pew. Once out in the aisle, his touch leaves your shoulders for a few moments. "I..." He starts only to sigh and mumble something you couldn't catch. "You can take my hand if you want."

The offer is met with tense silence. Minutes never felt so long. "I-if you wish," He murmurs before taking your hand. Warmth, immense and comforting warmth came with his touch. It was muted by your layers, but here, flesh to... what could only be his flesh. his hand felt a little leathery... was plentiful and overwhelming. You had to fight a smile. "Alright, we're going to be side by side... It isn't a long trek." He assures. The nervousness in his voice was chipping away. "Okay, then lead the way, oh' man of mystery." You muse. You hope that the warmth in the air was from his smile. Or maybe those bright eyes crinkling.

Each step the pair made echoed along the walls of the sanctuary. Uncertainty dripped down your tightening throat, but there was solace in the mutual feeling. His grip on your hand seemed to squeeze every so often. It was getting to the point of discomfort actually. "Um... I'm Y/n L/n." You eased. When silence followed, you clarified intermixed dissipating nerves. "Th-thats my name. Just so you know." A deep breath followed an equally nervous olive branch. "Kurt Wagner." There's a smile in his voice as he follows up in a smaller but more enthusiastic tone. "But I was once known as 'the amazing Nightcrawler'." You smiled a little "You sound like a showman." He chuckled meekly. "Once upon a time, I was."

"Oh? What... well, what-" "Made me homeless?" He finished a bit dryly. "I was going to say 'in between places', but why aren't you out there?" He sighs before a hushed confession "I... I don't know. I wasn't aware of myself. M-My body I mean... Gott, das klingt wahrscheinlich verrückt…" He mumbles as his grip on you loosens slightly. You offer a squeeze. "How so?" Your pressure is returned after a moment.

He sighs "I don't know how, but I awoke in a place far from my home. I tried to look for help, but I couldn't. My body was acting on its own and I couldn't fight it. I-I almost did something awful." He admitted. "Here, watch your step liebe," He murmurs "We have some stairs." It took a bit, but you found yourself traversing the stairs easily enough with Kurt as your stabilizer. "Thank you." You mumbled. "It truly is no problem." He assures before muttering something under his breath.

Silence blankets the stairwell other than the obvious steps and the lingering coo of pigeons. "Hold onto the wall for a moment," He advised. You do so as you hear him step away, followed by the creak of metal hinges. "Another room?" You offer. "My own, yes." He returns to your side and guides you into said room.

It's warmer. "You have excellent decor." You note as he lowers you into a plush seat on the ground. "Why thank you I-" He pauses at the realization you still had your eyes closed. You chuckle at his lapse. He takes it well. "Oh, du bist so ein Komödiant. I'll give you that one, that- that was good." He admits softly as his voice moves around the room. You swear you can hear a smile in it. You meet it in kind. "I try."

"Now," He sighs as you can only assume he's also sitting in front of you. His voice was closer now. "You wanted to speak with me?" You nod as your hands find each other. "You said you couldn't control yourself from doing something terrible. I think I may be here to help you." His voice lowers to match the gravity of the question. "How so?"

"I... I think I'm like you. I think I'm a mutant." There a soft scoff. "Well, what is your gift?" You sigh "That's the thing, I don't fully know. All I know is that I get this feeling that's like a tug on my chest or hand or... of whatever part of my body is closest to the place I need to be and I... I just follow it." There a hum of sorts, laced with understanding and curiosity. "And what is to happen if you don't?"

You can only swallow as the memories run your throat dry "Bad things." He remains quiet, which you consider a blessing. "I see." He eventually says. The wind blows through somewhere in the room, making what hair flow with its will. "You are very forthright," Kurt mumbles. "Where I come from, that can be a blessing and a curse." You laugh through a huff. "Most of us only live once, 'better to get on with the bull and just rush in."

His silence is deafening.

"So,... am I not going to see what you look like?" He sighs "There's nothing worth looking at here." You scoff and wave a hand, making contact with worn leather. "Hey!" "Oh shit- Sorry!" You mumbled. He sighs "I cannot fault you for that. We are cut from the same cloth in a sense," He breathes with an air of humor. "Prone for the dramatics as you say..."

"You didn't answer my question." Again, he sighs "You won't like what you see..."

"Who said that?" There is another pause "Promise not to scream?" He murmurs. "I'll do my best, but I can't control my reactions, Kurt." He sighs and starts to mumble in a cadence you recognize. "Vater unser, der du bist im Himmel, geheiligt werde dein Name. Dein Reich komme...Dein Wille geschehe wie im Himmel so auf Erden..." You sigh "I'm opening my eyes." He seemingly pays you no mind as you act on your claim, opening your eyes to witness him.

You've only heard of blue people from the conspiracy theorists at your high school and college, so seeing one in person is a bit of a surreal experience. The warm light of the candles gives him an ethereal glow, highlighting the markings along his body . "Oh wow..." He looks up to you, fear and pure anxiety mixing with the gold. His lips purse to the point of trembling. "You're a site." You say gently with a smile you can only hope doesn't come as forced. He only looks away. "You don't need to be kind to me." He murmurs. "Why shouldn't I? You're-" "The 'Amazing Nightcrawler'... a freak of nature and expert acrobat." You roll your eyes and swat at his forehead. "Hey! Wofür war das?"

"I might not have practiced the good word in a while, but last I checked hatred isn't permitted in the house of god." He winces a little. "Corinthians 6:19 und 20… Oder wisst ihr nicht, dass euer Leib ein Tempel des Heiligen Geistes in euch ist, den ihr von Gott habt? Ihr seid nicht euer eigen, denn ihr seid um einen Preis erkauft worden. So verherrlicht Gott in eurem Leib.“ You cock your head. "English please?" He glances at you before looking away. "You are right, liebe." You smile a little. "I hope liebe is a point of endearment." He smiles up to you nervously. It's kind of cute. "I assure you, it is."

From his left, a small dove coos before hopping to his side. He smiles before petting the peaceful creature with a finger larger than its head. "You don't seem like the monster everyone thinks you are." You murmur. He looks up from the bird to you, his smile faltering for a moment before warming with realization. "Well, you'd be the first."

"But not the last."

[willthewiz]

Will's Project on Alan Turing

Some of Alan Turing quotes may reveal something about Will and season 5.

These stand out to me the most:

"Those who can imagine anything, can create the impossible."

“Sometimes it is the people no one can imagine anything of who do the things no one can imagine.”

It makes you wonder, has Will created the impossible? The upside down? Maybe a character or characters we know? Has he stopped time or messed up a timeline?

We know when Will Byers disappeared on November 6th, 1983 and Eleven opened the gate, the Upside Down became stuck in 1983.

Will and El are definitely connected in some way. Wouldn't it be crazy if Will created El? And that's how she knew who he was in season 1 without knowing him before? Because she knows he's the one who created her? (I know, very crazy) Of course, El could've just seen him in the upside down after she opened the gate, but anything is possible if Will created the impossible. Whatever that may be...

Time can only tell. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day... (I just liked this quote lol)

What do you think?

[honestlyvan]

I do kind of wonder if the implicit assumption that Door is mad at Alan for involving Saga should be re-examined a little bit.

The game is very careful to not frame any of Saga's relationships as paternalistic. Like, repeatedly, with emphasis, especially among the relationships with people who are close to her and have reasons to act protective over her. Having Door primarily be motivated by a sense of righteousness over someone messing with his protectorate goes against theme with her, and would single him out as the only male character whose help Saga does need.

Furthermore, we know Freya didn't seem to think that highly of Door, never telling Saga anything about him and being firm in not wanting to discuss the topic. Her considering Door a potential danger to Saga just like her powers and choosing to hide the truth to protect her wouldn't make sense if she, too, could use her seer powers to confirm that Door did have Saga's best interest at heart, and with Door existing outside of time, I don't think there's adequate signalling that this would be something he would have had a change of heart about.

Furthermore, while Door is very likeable and definitely not a villain or even an antagonist... he is very trickster-like, and seems very cavalier with how he chooses to interfere and when. From his interactions with the Old Gods, spending fourty years on kill-on-sight terms with them only to happily fanboy over having them on his show and collaborate with them to mess with Alan, to the way he almost deigned to let Alan create a hint for Saga about how to use her powers rather than letting Saga and Tim just work it out amongst themselves, he's playing the long game in every situation and seems to enjoy making the story take twists and turns because of his involvement.

So Door is in a weird superposition of meddlesome/hands-off largely because I almost got a sense that with Saga, he's keeping his distance on purpose. Keeping himself concealed and out of the conversation, despite much of her story being discovering her origins and discovering her own supernatural influence. Outside of letting Alan create a single manuscript page about him, he doesn't even hint at his own existence while Saga is in the Dark Place, theoretically right there for him to reach out to.

And if Door does ultimately think that surely any daughter of his can handle herself, there is one another innocent that has been involved in this all by Wake I could see him getting worked up over instead.

[pruneunfair]

Characters I hate the most in remarried empress

5:Heinrey

A lot of people dislike him now for being a cruel bastard to the point of torturing foreign nobles just so he can favor his wife. While that is messed up I'll take that over his constant "UwU my queen~" persona that he displays 90% of the time because at least the former is the remnants of his inital personality. It goes from kind of funny to straight up cringey, I do not see what Navier likes so much about his puppy guise, he's so low because to be fair, he was introduced as a scumbag (kind of), he just spends so much time simping that it's basically tossed to the side

4:Lebetti

I know a lot of fans say Lebetti is young and can learn better, she's 17 sure but it took her entire family being executed just so she'd be inclined to care about Ian. She's basically a mini me of Lotteshu and when's she not doing that, she's another blind Navier worshipper who is used for as a stand in for the reader, I don't know how fans didn't realize their stand in is a slave owner but I digress. The only reason she's at number 4 is that while I do find messed up she gets to raise Rashtas child and likely feed a biased view of her to Ian, if she really wanted to be evil, she would've let Ian become a slave for his mother's crimes so I guess there's that.

3:Kaufman

Jesus christ this man is a walking, talking manifestation of second ML syndrome. He's essentially a plot device for no other purpose other than propping up Navier as so beautiful that multiple royal guys want her and so shit can go down , And of course the obvious slipping love potions in others for no other reason then "the plot calls for it", he doesn't even face the consequences. He's fucking creepy as well since he's STILL in love with Navier even after she's married and pregnant GET OVER IT MAN! In the end he just gets with Charlotte (Kosairs ex fiancé) so writting wise: his whole "nice guy" problems can be solved

2:Alan

I really just have a personal vendetta against the whole Rimwell family. The moment I lost all hope in remarried empress is when I was expected to sympathize with a rapist. The narrative wants readers to believe Alan was wronged even though he was the one to participate in keeping Ian away from Rashta until she got rich, even though it was HIM who decided to abandon Rashta after she wanted to run away with him. Yeah he's a good father so what? Wow! A dad actually raising his kid how amazing, it's almost like that's called the bare minimum. The moment he tried to say that Ian deserved to be treated like a prince because he was Rashtas son is when the comments finally saw him for what he was, he makes up for all this by getting executed in the end

1:Laura

Your probably wondering out of all these scumbags, why is a random side character on top? Well, the characters below at some point had personality traits that made then complex characters in the past or they did something to make up a little for it making them a tiny bit more tolerable. Laura however has never once shown any signs of any other personality other than "Your majesty! Your so wonderful and the best! That slave needs to know its place around you!" At least all Naviers other ladies in waiting have some sort of gimmick to them or in rare cases they have other stories going on with just them. Laura's gimmick is that she is willing to hit a slave for Navier even if said slave made a genuine mistake and isn't used to palace intrigue. Her face pisses me off everytime I look at it and everytime she speaks it's never anything besides love for the leads and hatred for anyone against Navier. she needs to get off her glazing and go back to bullying Cinderella with her evil stepsister design she's got.

Anyway let me know if there's any other manhwa/comic to rant about because I'm sure everyone's probably tired of me bitching about remarried empress

[gumnut-logic]

Lego Volcano (Part 7 and The End)

Alexander Sweetapple series | Lego Volcano - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

At this point, it should be remembered that this fic, whcih is now complete at over 11,000 words, originated in a post that devolved into bathing in Lego and how much whumping that would involve :D

This is why fault belongs to @idontknowreallywhy, @sofasurf @womble1 and @sailing-on-a-puddle and other wonderful Thunderfam peeps. it would not exist without them.

@onereyofstarlight has also kindly kept me on the straight and narrow and all improvements belong to her :D

So thank you to all of the above and to all who have encouraged this little fic, that didn't stay little, along the way ::hugs you all::

this bit is very much M/M because Virgil is feeling so much better :D If that isn't your jam, this isn't your bread. There is also buckets of fluff :D

I hope you enjoy :D

-o-o-o-

“Do you think he likes me?”

Virgil frowned down at the man lying in his arms. They had thrown some pillows and a blanket onto a fold up daybed and were whiling away a few hours as the sun was setting across the sea.

The Island was quiet. Grandma and Dad were still on Aotearoa, Gordon and Alan were torturing Scott in the infirmary, and, as always, John was watching over them from far above.

His star would become visible once the sky was dark enough.

“Who?”

“Mr Tracy.”

He had the urge to ask which Mr Tracy, but where Alex was concerned, there was only one Mr Tracy. “Scott likes you fine. Always did.”

Alex fidgeted in his arms. “I feel like a klutz around him.” He looked up at Virgil - something that only happened when they were lying down and Virgil was quite happy about that. “I just know how important he is to you and, well, I don’t want him to feel I’m intruding.”

“You’re not intruding.”

Alex looked away. “I’ve seen you on rescues. All of you are special, but there has always been something extra between you and the Commander. There are rumours.”

Virgil frowned. “About what?”

“That you’re telepathic, that you can read each other’s minds and move as one.”

“You’ve been talking to Gordon.” The Fish had been ribbing them about that for years.

“No…well, yes, but not about that. It’s in the fandom. It’s common knowledge.”

“You’re in the fandom?”

Now Alex was definitely looking away. “Well, yeah, been a fan forever, and there are like-minded people out there.” He looked back up at Virgil and grinned. “You are very nice to watch.”

The arm Virgil had draped around his boyfriend, quite conveniently reached his ribs, which were apparently very ticklish.

The two of them tussled and giggled a moment, Alex finding a few ticklish spots in return. But it was broken up when Virgil’s laugh turned to a cough. Alex caught him and pulled him close.

Virgil cleared his throat and smiled. “So you’re a card carrying fan?”

“You knew that.”

“I did.” He kissed Alex’s messy blond hair. “But then, I’m a fan of you, so we’re even.”

Alex snorted, but sobered. “Seriously, it’s important that I’m not…messing things up with your brother…with any of your brothers.”

Virgil sighed. “Alex, you’re fine. Scott approves, and even if he didn’t, you’re my boyfriend, not his.”

“I know. It’s just I don’t want to mess with the magic.”

Oh, god. “You’re not messing up anything. All my brothers are happy for us. It’s fine.” He pulled Alex in close, kissing his hair again. “Especially for me.”

But even as he said it, he knew his man and this was probably one of those bones his brain would chew on if it wasn’t taken away. “So you like math?”

“I’ve always liked maths, I’m an engineer.”

“Well, yes, of course, but that wasn’t engineering math.”

Alex shrugged. “It’s just fun stuff. I play with patterns sometimes.”

Virgil stared down at him a moment. “Scott enjoys math.”

A snort. “I noticed. He can run rings around me. He makes some beautiful stuff.”

“He does?”

“Yeah? Didn’t you see that last result - it was like a field of origami flowers.”

Virgil blinked. “Flowers?”

That earned him a frown. “You couldn’t see it?”

“I could see elegant math. Scott writes a good solution.”

“He does, but it is how he does it.”

“Should I be worried?”

“About what?”

Virgil’s lips curled into a smile. “If my brother has caught your eye.”

“Oh, ho, ho, yeah, right. Mr Tracy is straighter than an Australian railway line.” It was Alex’s turn to smile. “Besides, he’s not you.” Alex reached up and caught Virgil’s lips with his own.

Conversation stopped for a while as Alex made it very clear which was his favourite Tracy brother.

The sun finally reached the horizon and lit up the ocean, coating everything in that beautiful gold only Sol could provide. A gentle breeze wafted off the caldera and wrapped around them, clapping palm leaves and pōhutukawa branches alike.

“Thank you for looking after me. It has been a relief having you here.”

“Next time let me know. I don’t want you suffering in silence. People pair up for a reason.” He cleared his throat.

Virgil brushed a strand of hair behind Alex’s ear. “Okay, I’ll make sure to send the Fish earlier next time.”

“So Gordon is your gopher?”

“Uh-huh.” Alex’s skin was a little flushed in the light of the sunset and very distracting.

“Does he know this?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You are feeling better, aren’t you.”

“Uh-huh.”

Alex smiled and his dark eyes glittered in the golden air. “C’mere.”

His lips were soft.

Virgil lost more time.

So very, very distracted.

It was getting dark by the time they bothered to check their surroundings again. The breeze was cooler, and Alex shivered as it drifted over them.

Virgil’s stomach was rumbling - a good thing since eating hadn’t been his favourite activity recently.

Since there was no sign of Gordon or Alan, or anyone else for that matter - probably giving him and Alex space - it looked like Virgil was cook tonight. So as they finally climbed off the bed and began packing up, he mentally recalled what was in the fridge, the freezer, and what could be quickest to prepare.

“Where should I put these?” Alex had the pillows in his hands.

“Chuck them on the sunken lounge. If you feel like a movie we can use them later.”

“Sure.” But Alex hesitated, frowning a moment before, turning to walk inside.

“Alex? You okay?” Virgil had his hands full of blanket and folded day bed, but something wasn’t right.

“Um…I don’t…” Alex was stumbling sideways, pillows falling to the floor.

Everything slowed and Virgil was moving, but not fast enough.

Alex struggled to keep his feet, but one bare foot caught in that damned Lego sculpture and then it was all slow motion deja vu.

Lego scattered everywhere, tinkling on the hardwood floor as Virgil slid in to catch Alex. The Lego volcano exploded in all directions as his body collided with it, arms full of lanky, falling engineer.

Time and speed caught up.

“Alex!”

Shocked dark eyes looked up at Virgil. “I don’t feel very good.” His eyelids fluttered closed. “Dizzy.”

“Alex!”

“Uh…” He screwed up his face. “Dizzy.”

Virgil’s heart climbed into his ears thudding away all sound as he lowered Alex gently to the floor, brushing away stray bricks and cushioning his head with one of the dropped pillows.

Scrabbling to his feet, Virgil dashed across the comms room and grabbed the first aid kit, yanking out the medscanner and flashing yellow light across Alex’s prone body.

The machine beeped, and delivered its prognosis.

Oh, hell.

His shoulders dropped.

Alex groaned and tried to roll over.

“Hey, stay put. You’re sick.”

“Wha-?”

“Thunderbird Five?”

John popped into being in the middle of the room. “Tracy Island, what can I- ? Alex? Virgil, report.”

“Please let Māhia know that Alex won’t be returning for at least another week. He has the flu.” Virgil brushed hair out of Alex’s eyes.

“FAB.”

“What? I have- I can’t, I had all my shots.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“But-“

“Your turn to rest, love.”

“But I have to…goddamnit!”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile through his concern. “You can play math with Scotty in the infirmary.”

Was that a challenged cant to a grumpy eyebrow?

“But I have to-“

“Rest.”

“Viiirgil.” He coughed.

Virgil continued to stroke his hair as both Gordon and Alan came running with a hoverstretcher in tow.

“Not the Lego again?” Alan looked both worried and exasperated at the same time.

As Virgil’s bare foot came down on a very sharp and hard brick while crouching to lift a wriggling Alex onto the hoverstretcher, he only had one solution to that problem. “Yeah, please pack it away this time. I think we’ve had enough Lego this month.” Ouch, he stumbled over another one. “Possibly for decades.”

Alex was muttering something about Erica laughing her ass off and excuses to lengthen his stay on Tracy Island.

Gordon was grinning and agreeing.

Heart still beating just that little too fast, Virgil limped after the hoverstretcher.

New bruises keeping him company.

Damn Lego.

-o-o-o-

FIN