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alohajix · 5 days ago

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𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐦

Description: [Y/N] signed her son up for soccer to help him feel a little braver. She didn’t expect it to feel like she was the one learning how to start over. And she definitely didn’t expect the coach to start feeling like home.

Warnings: single parenthood, child anxiety, parental guilt, emotional vulnerability, fear of abandonment, slow-burn romance, eventual consensual smut (soft to intense).

Word count: TBD.

author’s note: this little mini-story is actually part of something a bit bigger! if you enjoyed part one, i’m planning to share the four other parts exclusively on my patreon as i write them. there’s zero pressure, of course—just knowing you’re here reading already means the world to me. but if you’d like to support my work even more and follow this story as it continues, you’ll be able to find the rest over there when they’re ready. thank you so much for reading. i appreciate you more than you know! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Main Masterlist

Marked by Midnight’s Masterlist

***

Warnings: child nervousness, social overwhelm, parental self-doubt, references to past social exclusion, emotional tension, fear of letting someone in.

Word count: 3,748.

The field is busier than I expected. Parents already staking their claims with fold-out chairs along the sidelines, sipping from oversized thermoses, shouting to each other over the hum of kids in matching jerseys sprinting across the grass like it's the World Cup. My stomach pulls tight as I kill the engine, my hands still wrapped around the steering wheel like I'm not entirely sure if we should even be here.

I glance into the rearview mirror, catching Archie in the back seat, small hands fidgeting with the hem of his jersey again. He's been doing that since we left the apartment—rolling the fabric between his fingers like it might unravel if he stops. It's bright red, way too big on him. He'd wanted it that way. Said the bigger one felt safer. Like armor, he told me, with the kind of serious little face only a six-year-old could pull off. But looking at him now, all I can think is how small he really looks in it.

I let out a slow breath and glance toward the field again, already feeling the weight of every other parent who looks like they've done this a hundred times before. Like they belong here. Like they belong together.

I climb out of the car, shut my door gently, and walk around to his side. He doesn't move when I open it, just looks up at me with those wide, worried eyes I know too well. The same eyes I've seen every time we try something new. I crouch down so we're level, resting my elbows on my knees.

"Alright, champ... you ready?"

His feet swing nervously over the edge of the seat. His voice is so soft I almost miss it.

"Do I have to go with them by myself?"

God, how many times have I heard that question in one form or another? First days of school, new babysitters, birthday parties where he doesn't know anyone but me. The same fear, every time. The same knot in my stomach when I have to lie just a little to make him believe this time will be different.

I reach for his hand, curling my fingers around his.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," I tell him quietly, brushing a piece of hair off his forehead. "But remember what we said? About trying? About being brave enough to see if it feels a little better once you get started?"

He bites his lip hard enough to leave a mark, glancing toward the field. I follow his gaze, taking in the kids already spread out in messy clusters, parents shouting encouragement like this is the most important thing in the world. My throat feels tight just looking at it.

"I'll be right here," I add softly. "The whole time. You can look for me whenever you want."

His chin wobbles just a little, but after a second, he nods. It's barely there, but it's enough. I press a quick kiss to his temple, breathing him in like it might settle something in me, too. That familiar scent of shampoo and syrup and him. My safe place, even when I'm the one who's supposed to be his.

I hold out my hand.

"Come on. Let's go check it out."

He slips his hand into mine without saying another word, holding on tight. Tighter than usual. We start walking toward the noise. And even though I've already promised him it's going to be okay, I'm not sure I believe it yet.

The closer we get, the more it feels like my skin's been pulled too tight. Like every step drags me further into a place I'm not convinced we belong. Archie's fingers are sweaty in mine, small and tense, and I can feel the tiny tremble in them with every squeeze. He's walking slower now, half a step behind, like if he keeps dragging his feet long enough, maybe I'll turn us around and call the whole thing off.

I want to. God, I want to. But I don't.

We stop at the edge of the field, just shy of the first line of folding chairs. I shift my weight, standing tall enough to look like I know what I'm doing, even though the truth feels like it's unraveling by the second.

Parents are everywhere—chatting over the hum of thermoses being popped open, stretching their legs out toward the grass like they've claimed this territory a dozen times before. Some of them are wearing team hoodies. Some already know each other's kids by name. You can tell by the way they laugh like it's nothing new.

I tuck Archie in a little closer to my side, scanning the field until I find the group in red jerseys forming near the far goalpost. A man's standing in front of them, clipboard tucked under one arm, whistle hanging loose from his neck. His sleeves are already shoved up to his elbows, hands gesturing casually as he calls the group to attention.

"All right, Red Rockets, let's bring it in!"

The way he says it catches me off guard—not sharp, not impatient, not the way I expected someone to rally a group of six-year-olds on a cold Saturday morning. It's... soft. Confident, but not loud. Like he already knows they'll listen without needing to shout.

I feel Archie flinch just a little beside me, his body shrinking closer to mine like the sound spooked him. I glance down, smoothing my thumb across the back of his hand.

"It's okay," I whisper, even though I have no idea if that's true.

When I look back up, the man's moving. Walking toward the group of kids gathering into a loose circle in front of him. I catch the edge of his voice again—lower this time, more focused on the ones who haven't settled yet.

Archie stiffens all over again, frozen like he's deciding whether to bolt or hide. And all I can think is please don't shut down. Not yet.

I'm already running through my backup plan in my head—how to peel him off the sidelines gently if he refuses to move, how to keep my voice from cracking when I tell him it's okay, we can try again another week—when I catch movement from the corner of my eye. He's walking toward us. Steady. Unbothered. No clipboard this time, no whistle in his hand. Just easy steps like he's done this before. Like he's not in a rush to fix anything.

Archie stiffens even more, his little body locking up next to mine like he's bracing for impact. I lean down toward his ear, lowering my voice to that quiet, steady hum I've learned works better than anything else.

"It's okay, baby. Just breathe. I'm right here."

He stops a couple of steps away, leaving space like he knows better than to crowd us. His hands are loose in his jacket pockets, his mouth tipping into the kind of smile that feels... patient. The kind that makes it look like this isn't a problem to solve—it's just a moment to walk through.

"Hey there," he says, nodding once like it's the most normal thing in the world to approach strangers this way. "First day nerves?"

I shift my weight, pulling Archie a little closer to my side.

"Yeah," I answer softly, my voice rougher than I mean for it to sound. "We just moved here. Still trying to find our place."

He nods like that makes perfect sense. Like he's heard it before.

"'S a lot, isn't it?" he murmurs, glancing toward the field again like he remembers exactly what it feels like to stand on the outside of something. "Is that your little one, then? Number five?"

I look down at Archie, who's still clinging to me, eyes wide but curious now.

"Yeah. Archer. We... we call him Archie."

Harry crouches down slowly, resting his elbows on his knees. He doesn't reach for Archie. Doesn't try to pull him out of hiding. He just lowers himself to his level and lets his voice drop even softer.

"Hiya, Archie. I'm Harry. Coach Harry, technically, but that feels a bit too serious for six-year-olds, don't you think?"

Archie doesn't answer, but his grip on my sweater loosens just a little. His eyes flick to Harry's shoes, then to his face, then back to me like he's checking if I'm still here. Harry keeps going, easy as anything.

"Y'know, we've got a job open today," he adds with a quiet grin. "Someone needs to help me set up all those cones over there before the team comes in. Think you might be able to help me with that?"

Archie shifts his weight, biting his lip, and for a second I'm sure he's going to shut down again. But then—so small I almost miss it—he nods. Just once. Harry doesn't make a big deal out of it. Doesn't whoop or cheer or make it a moment bigger than it needs to be. He just leans back on his heels, pushes to his feet, and tips his head toward the pile of cones on the grass.

"We'll just be over here," he says to me softly. "Promise I'll bring him right back."

I stay frozen where I am, arms wrapped tight around myself like I might actually fall apart if I move too fast.

Archie follows him. Slowly, yeah—but he follows. Two tiny steps at first. Then one more. He's a full body length behind, but he's moving. Moving toward something without me. My throat feels like it's closing up just watching it happen.

I hover at the edge of the chairs, not daring to sit down. My eyes flick to the other parents spread out along the sidelines, already swapping stories about school pickups and carpool schedules like this is just another weekend. Some of them aren't even watching the field. Some are already halfway through their second cup of coffee, shouting out names like they've done this a hundred times.

It's strange, standing here alone. My arms wrapped around myself like I'm bracing for something, like I'm waiting for a punch that never comes. I glance up at the sky for no reason at all, noting the gray clouds stretching low and heavy over the trees at the far end of the field. One gust of wind, and it'll probably rain.

Of course, I didn't bring an umbrella. I didn't think that far ahead. I'd been too busy worrying about Archie. About whether or not I could even get him this far.

I shift again, pressing my tongue to the back of my teeth to stop myself from calling Archie back. My fingers itch to reach for him, to pull him out of the spotlight and hide him somewhere safer. Somewhere smaller. Somewhere where he doesn't have to try so hard. But I don't. I stay planted. I watch Harry kneel beside the pile of cones, picking them up one by one and laying them out on the grass like he's got all the time in the world. He doesn't even glance back to see if Archie's still following. He just... waits.

Archie shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking back toward me like he's asking permission without saying it out loud. My chest tightens, but I nod once, small and steady, like I'm not terrified he's about to fall apart in front of everyone. And then he moves again. Steps right up to the pile and crouches awkwardly, his little fingers fumbling to grab a cone. Harry leans in a little, points to a spot on the field, and Archie starts walking toward it, arms stiff like he's afraid to drop it.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My throat stings with it. Like I've been holding that breath for longer than just today. It's small. So small. But it's more than I expected. I've seen people give up on him before. I've watched them get impatient when he freezes or takes too long to answer or hides behind me when they try to pull him out of his shell too fast. I've heard the tight, strained "it's okay, some kids just aren't social" more times than I can count. Always laced with that disappointed edge like they've already decided he's too much work.

I've seen the way they check their watches. The way they glance toward me with that half-frown, half-smile that really means "he's slowing us down." I've walked Archie back to the car more times than I can count with his head on my shoulder, whispering it's not his fault even when I know he doesn't believe me.

And every time it happens, I feel that weight in my chest. That bitter little voice in the back of my head that says see? This is why you keep your circle small. This is why you don't expect people to stay.

But Harry doesn't flinch. Doesn't push. He just lets Archie take his time, moving one cone at a time like there's nothing else to do today but wait for him to figure it out.

I glance down at the ground by my feet, kicking at the grass with the tip of my shoe like that might ground me somehow. It doesn't. All I can do is watch. All I can do is hope. I feel my heart catch in my throat because I already know I shouldn't let myself get used to that. He's just doing his job. And it's nothing. But the way it feels settling in my chest tells me I'm lying to myself already.

The rest of practice passes in a blur. I barely register what the other kids are doing. I don't hear a single word the parents around me say. I'm too locked in on Archie. On the way he stays close to Harry, watching every move like he's afraid he might miss something important.

And somehow, somehow, he stays. He doesn't run back to me. He doesn't shut down. He doesn't quit.

By the time Harry claps his hands together and calls the team in one last time, Archie's cheeks are flushed, curls sticking to his forehead, his little hands tugging on the bottom of his jersey again—but his shoulders aren't hunched the way they were when we got here. He's tired, but he's still standing.

I push off the fence and start toward the edge of the field, hugging my arms around myself again like it's going to hold me together for the next thirty seconds.

Harry crouches down to Archie's level again, says something low that makes Archie nod. Then he stands, turns toward me, and starts walking over with that same easy pace like we aren't two strangers standing on opposite sides of a life we haven't figured out yet.

"He did great," Harry says when he reaches us, nodding toward Archie like he means it. "Took a little warming up, but he stuck it out."

I swallow the knot in my throat, brushing Archie's hair off his forehead again.

"Thanks for being patient with him. I know he's... a lot sometimes."

Harry frowns a little—just for a second—like he doesn't like hearing that.

"He's not a lot," he says quietly, like it's a fact. "He's a kid. Kids move at their own pace."

And just like that, something in my chest pulls tight again. Because no one ever says it like that. Not without sounding like they're trying to convince themselves. But Harry says it like he actually believes it.

I shift my weight, blinking hard to keep my expression neutral. My mouth opens to thank him again, but nothing comes out. I chew the inside of my cheek instead, heat creeping up the back of my neck.

Before I can embarrass myself further, he clears his throat, rocking back on his heels.

"Listen, uh—would it be alright if I grabbed your number? Just in case we have to reschedule or... if Archie forgets anything?"

I freeze for a second longer than I probably should. I shouldn't. I shouldn't. That little voice in my head kicks in fast, warning me not to blur the lines. Not to give anyone even an inch closer than they need to be. But he's looking at me with that same steady patience I've watched him give to Archie all morning. Like I have a choice. Like he'll back off if I say no.

I nod. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, already unlocked to a blank contact screen. I take it carefully, fingers brushing his. His skin is warm. Calloused, like he works with his hands for real. I feel it all the way down to my wrist, like something I shouldn't notice but do anyway.

I stare at the screen longer than I need to. I could fake it. I could type a number off by one digit and let this stay exactly what it is. Professional. Detached. Easy to forget.

But my thumb moves before I can stop it. I type my real name—[Y/N]. My real number.

When I hand it back, Harry glances at the screen, then up at me again with that easy, unreadable smile.

"Perfect. Thanks [Y/N]." God help me, I don't trust myself not to read too much into it.

Archie shifts beside me, tugging lightly on the hem of my sleeve like he's working up to something. He's got that scrunched-up little look on his face—the one he gets when he's thinking too hard. His cheeks are still flushed from running around, curls sticking to his damp forehead, but his eyes are darting between me and Harry like he's trying to figure something out.

Harry tucks his phone back into his jacket pocket and gives Archie one last ruffle of his hair, starting to turn back toward the rest of the kids when Archie blurts it out—loud enough for half the field to hear.

"Mama... can Coach Harry come to dinner sometime?"

The words hit me like a slap to the chest. Quick. Sharp. Immediate. My stomach drops. My throat closes. I freeze.

Harry doesn't. He doesn't laugh. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't even blink, really. His smile doesn't falter for a second. He just crouches down to Archie's level again, his voice dropping low and soft, like it's just for him.

"Maybe one day, little man," Harry says, reaching out to tap two fingers lightly against Archie's tiny fist. "Gotta keep practicin' those kicks first, yeah? That's the deal."

Archie beams like he's just been promised Disneyland. I, on the other hand, feel like my face is on fire. My heart slams so hard I swear I can hear it in my ears. I glance around like I'm half-expecting someone to be standing there listening, but no one is. No one's paying attention to us at all.

Except me. Except Harry. Except Archie, who's already moved on like it's the most normal thing in the world to invite a complete stranger to dinner.

I clear my throat, tightening my grip on the strap of my bag.

"Alright, bud... let's grab your stuff."

Harry stands again, brushing his palms against his thighs like he's shaking off the grass. His eyes meet mine for one last second, and there's something there I can't quite name. Not teasing. Not pity. Just... something steady. Something that feels like he already knows I'm going to overthink this all night.

"See you next week?" I ask before I can stop myself, my voice tighter than I mean for it to be.

Harry nods, rocking back on his heels again.

"Wouldn't miss it."

And just like that, he's gone—turning back toward the pile of equipment like the last five minutes didn't knock the air clean out of my lungs.

Archie talks the whole walk back to the car. Little bursts of excitement tumbling over each other—how he kicked the ball once, how Coach Harry let him carry the cones, how next week he's going to run even faster. He's out of breath before we even make it across the parking lot, his tiny hand swinging in mine like all the fear from earlier never happened.

I keep nodding, making all the right noises, but it feels like my head is full of static. Like I can't get my feet back under me, no matter how many steps I take.

I get him buckled into his booster seat, double-check the straps even though I know they're fine. I lean in, pressing a kiss to his temple like I always do, breathing him in for just a second longer than necessary. He giggles, pushing at my face with one small hand.

"Mamaaa," he laughs, like I'm embarrassing him. Like it's funny. Like his heart isn't still tangled up in my hands the way mine is in his.

I shut the door quietly and lean back against the car, staring out at the emptying parking lot. Most of the families are gone already. The folding chairs are packed up, the chatter's faded, and the breeze is colder now than it was an hour ago. I wrap my arms around myself, digging my nails into my sleeves like that might stop the way my chest feels like it's caving in.

I don't know what I expected today to be. But it wasn't this. It wasn't the way Archie actually stayed. The way he looked—pink-cheeked and almost proud—for the first time in God knows how long. And it sure as hell wasn't the way Harry spoke to him. Or to me. Like we weren't some charity case. Like he wasn't performing patience for points. Like he actually... saw us. Both of us.

I shove my hand into my pocket, pulling out my phone before I can stop myself. My thumb hovers over the screen for half a breath too long before I swipe it open and scroll to my contacts.

Harry.

I lock the screen again and stuff it deep into my jacket like I can hide from it if I don't look too long.

"Okay," I whisper to myself, pushing off the car and moving toward the driver's side.

I'm already overthinking it.

***

@cloudyluun @gem1712 @dipmeinhoneyh @idk1990 @harrrrystylesslut @sparxx27 @likea-silhouette @fangirl509east @starryhaze-crystal @mads3502 @run-for-the-hills @twinklaei @belgianblondee @pbandnutella @maudie-duan @cat-loves-music @harrysgirl2003 @harrystyleshotwife @secretands-blog @dutchtheatrelore @angeldavis777 @idkidcfuboh @maddiesalvatore1839

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inscribedlighter · 2 months ago

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Okay but when Kayne freezes time to reveal John's deal with him Larson, the Butcher and Noel are just in the background watching.

Like, imagine you are the Butcher who has the bare minimum of context on all of this and suddenly you're frozen, and everyone else is frozen, and a guy just appears beside Arthur and starts monologuing.

Like here is what he just experiences frozen and unable to move:

KAYNE (loudly): So close!

KAYNE (innocently): John?

KAYNE: And? And!? (Unimpressed.) And what.

KAYNE: Stopped everything? Why, yes.

KAYNE: How!? (He walks as he talks.) How am I supposed to explain that to you? God, you sound just like your little host family here, questioning everything! Some things just happen, Marigold.

KAYNE: Deal? What deal?

KAYNE: Oh, I don’t recall a contract or written word, really.

KAYNE (dangerously): You’ll what?

KAYNE: Oh! You know what? I do remember! (Recollecting.) Oh, oh, oh. We did make a deal, didn’t we? First, you were sent back into the King. Right? (Theatrically.) Whole once again!

KAYNE: It was right after our little crumpet tried to shave his neck with the pointy end. Right? Then… hm. (He sucks air through his teeth.) Then what happened? You don’t remember, do you?

KAYNE: Yes! You were… well, you were cast out, weren’t you? The King just – well, couldn’t make you fit anymore, could he? (Vigorously.) Too much soul in there! A broken mirror in too many pieces to put together again. (He pretends to cry.)

KAYNE: Oh, of course! You were changed! A new… man? Entity? Thing? What are we calling you, exactly? (A short pause. Coyly.) Dandelions are yellow!

KAYNE: And so he cast you out! While in his realm, the King still had considerable power over you. Whatever you are. And sent you back to the one place you dared not ever return! (Cruelly.) Isn’t… that… right?

KAYNE (dramatically): The Dark World! It was scary there, wasn’t it?

KAYNE: I mean, scary doesn’t even begin to sell it, but Arty promised he’d never send you back there, didn’t he?

KAYNE (faux aghast): And yet, your little deal had you end up right where he promised you’d never be!? Oh, how infuriating that must’ve been! (He laughs maniacally.) Oh. You would’ve done anything to get out again. Wouldn’t you? But first! You had to sink a little lower. Didn’t you?

Time moves differently in the Dark World, doesn’t it? You didn’t just give up. You… You fell back on your old ways. The King who was trapped there before all of this… it was only when you were truly defeated that you called to me. (Abruptly.) Begged for me! The things you did for me to make this deal… (Shudderingly.) Ooh!

KAYNE: But you got out. How did it feel, lying to Arthur this whole time? Not being able to tell him why you were coming here and … where you came from.

KAYNE: Not true! (Insolently.) Matthew had a choice!

KAYNE: Absolutely! That little rapscallion let it slip, didn’t he? I told him to keep a tight, heavy lid… if Arthur knew that I wanted him here, he wouldn’t do it! But… could he keep that to himself? Hardly!

KAYNE (snidely): Well, because he made his choice.

KAYNE: His to make! And you made yours, my King. And you… (Pleased.) Mm! Fulfilled our deal. In a manner of speaking.

KAYNE: And? And you were released from the Dark World! (Dramatically.) Contract fulfilled! (A conjuring effect, the rustle of paper, and pencil scratching.) See?

KAYNE: So now… you and Arthur can leave! (Bad cockney accent.) England, was it? (Normally.) No more secrets between the two of you.

KAYNE: I mean… I said I stopped them from moving, Johnny, but his ears still work.

KAYNE: Am I wrong, Archie? (He snaps his fingers.)

ARTHUR (in horror): You…

Butcher: ...

#malevolent podcast #kayne malevolent #butcher malevolent #dennis collins #John Malevolent #At least Noel knows about some of the things and Larson knows some of the things #Butcher: who the hell is john?

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alexanderwales · 10 months ago

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Castle Solutions was the only time travel company in the world. They had a giant corporate headquarters in downtown Chicago, which was the only place in the entire world with a time machine, at least as far as anyone knew. They were worth hundreds of billions, and the only reason they weren't worth more seemed to be that they didn't care all that much about money. The time machines were used for everything: reporting, media, market corrections, the surveillance state, and industry. Castle Solutions was the lynchpin of the modern world.

Daniel had thought the waiting room would be nicer.

He sat in a blue-gray chair that would have been at home in any waiting room anywhere else in Chicago. Slightly tinny music played over speakers from the ceiling. A fake potted plant sat in one corner, failing to look lively. There were no windows, because the waiting room was deep in the heart of the building, close to the machine itself.

Daniel was the only one in the waiting room. He'd come half an hour early, lugging all his gear, and now the only thing left was for the clock to run down. A bored-looking woman had come in to tell him that it might be awhile, that they were running behind schedule — the time travel company, running behind schedule. So there had been more waiting than expected.

A man in a charcoal gray suit with a simple blue backpack came in. He slung the backpack down onto the ground with a sigh and rubbed his face. He had stubble there, but an artful amount of it, like he'd spent some time in the mirror making sure that it was the right amount of scruff to offset his expensive suit.

Daniel looked straight ahead, trying not to look, keeping his face blank, like he was passing by a homeless person who might ask him for money he didn't have.

"Wow, you've got a lot of stuff," said the man. "Is that a sword?"

"It's a katana," said Daniel. He didn't match the eye contact the man was giving him.

"Oh, cool," said the man. "You're going to ... katana times?"

"Edo Japan, yeah," said Daniel.

Daniel was trying his best not to engage, to get this conversation over as quickly as possible. He wasn't making eye contact.

The man picked up his backpack and moved across the waiting room to be closer to Daniel.

"You speak Japanese?" the man asked.

"Hai, watashi wa nihongo o hanashimasu," replied Daniel. He wished that he were more fluent, that the words had come out less rote.

"Cool," said the man. He had apparently also come closer to get a look at all of Daniel's stuff. His eyes moved over the duffel bags. There wasn't much to see, everything had been carefully packed away. "Wow, you sure are prepared, huh?"

"It's a different time and place," said Daniel with a shrug. It represented five years of planning, five years of training, learning, honing himself.

"Personally, I'm going to 1946," said the man, though Daniel hadn't asked. He held out his hand. "Archie Vedder."

Daniel reluctantly took the hand. "Daniel Strom." He had never really gotten the hang of shaking hands. He worried that his hands were too clammy, a worry that proved founded when Archie wiped his hand on that expensive charcoal suit.

"I went with the kit," said Archie, pointing to his backpack. "I've got papers, I've got a computer with a backup, I've got a projector, a media library, a science library, the whole works, plus some forged bonds and a stack of cash. I got a sweet deal on it, they're overstocked now."

Retreating into the past had seen its heyday. Now most of the people who had been most enthusiastic were gone, and there were only the dissenters left. Everyone agreed with using the machine for the mundane stuff, but simply leaving, never to return, rubbed people the wrong way.

"I guess they don't sell kits for Edo," Archie ventured.

"They do," said Daniel. "They're trash."

"Ah," said Archie.

"This is all custom," said Daniel. "Higher quality, field tested, everything I'll need to set myself up there." Only some of it was stock. He had two computers, three smartphones, chargers and plugs, solar panels, replacement batteries, and redundant media libraries and science libraries.

Archie raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean, field tested? Because people don't come back. You're there for good, right?"

What it actually meant was that Daniel had gone out into a field and tested it, made sure that it worked under various conditions, set himself up like he might be explaining all this to a carefully chosen daimyo. There was only so much that camping in the woods and taking dry run vacations could tell him though.

"Some of it is theory," said Daniel. "Research."

"Yeah, see, that's why I went with 1946," said Archie. "It's really well-trod. You know, I was reading an article the other day that maybe the Baby Boom was a little overstated? Like, we're obviously living in the wake of time travelers, but that's the prime time to come back, anywhere from 1946 to 1960. The economy is doing well, tech is advancing, it's familiar enough. The culture is so close you can sell some stuff from a media library, it's brilliant. You're five steps away from becoming a multimillionaire in a time when that meant something."

"Sure," said Daniel.

"Any reason you're doing hard mode?" asked Archie. "I mean, samurai and ninjas are cool, sure, but —"

"It's not about that," said Daniel.

"Alright, sure," shrugged Archie.

Daniel looked over at the waiting room's lone clock. You would think that a waiting room for a time travel company would have better clocks, but it was a cheap utilitarian design, thin plastic and wobbly hands.

"What's it about then?" asked Archie.

"I was going to go with a friend," said Daniel. "We had practiced together, trained together. Then he got cancer."

"Ah, shit," said Archie.

"He lived," said Daniel. "He's fine. But he's on medications now, and will be for the rest of his life, and he can't go anymore."

"Huh," said Archie. "So there's a friend who you're leaving behind?"

"No," said Daniel. "I mean ... this was what we did together. We talked about it a lot. We read history books and practiced crafts and skills. At the start, I didn't really take it that seriously, it was just a hobby, but I got invested, and I guess I kept seeing it as — I don't know."

"I mean for me, it's a way out," said Archie. "Most people feel that way, yeah? My wife filed for divorce, I got fired from my job, so hey, time to start over in 1946, pretend I'm part of the Greatest Generation, ride the waves I know are coming. Exploit it."

Daniel grimaced. The Vietnam War, segregation, the Red Scare? People had a rosy view of that time. He'd never felt particularly aligned with people like Archie who were just looking to make a quick buck.

"Oh come on," said Archie. "You think you're better than me? You're a, you know, what's the word. Colonizer."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "No."

"What, just 'no', it's not, you know, what we did to the Native Americans?" asked Archie. "The whole 'conquer the past' thing?"

"I'm a single person," said Daniel. "I'm bringing back things that will change their culture forever, but I'm not an agent of my country, and even if I were, I think those people who want to be a god king are morons. And sorry, I'm not spending my last minutes in the present on badly rehashing a debate I've had a thousand times already."

"Why not?" asked Archie. "See, I think having arguments right before you go is great. You can leave on a high note. I've spent the last few days saying whatever the hell I wanted to people. It's great. I went to my dad and said 'hey, you were a terrible father, I never liked you, and it's sad that you thought I needed your approval'. And then you know what's hilarious? I get to just walk away and never be seen again. How's that for a power move? How's that for a mic drop?"

"Seems immature," said Daniel.

"Well, see, I'm actually fine being immature," said Archie with a little laugh. "And when this conversation is done, one or both of us is going into the past, never to be seen nor heard from again, and isn't that great? You don't like me, I don't like you, and then we're strangers again."

Daniel had been looking straight ahead, but he turned to Archie after that. "You don't like me?" he asked. "You don't know me."

"I know your type," said Archie. He leaned back. "You spent what, three years cooking up a plan, making this trip back in time your entire personality, and now you think you're better than me, better than everyone, like you've got it all figured out. You talked yourself into throwing away everything you've got going on here. You got dreams of a future in the past. It's quitter talk, is what it is."

"Fuck off," said Daniel. In his normal life he'd have never said it, but he was on the precipice.

"You think going into the past is going to transform you?" asked Archie. "That another world, a second chance, you'll somehow become the man you think you were supposed to be? Well let me tell you, if you were a loser here, you'll be a loser there."

Daniel stood up and drew his sword. He'd practiced the draw a thousand times. The sword gleamed, even under the ugly fluorescent lighting of the waiting room. "Fuck off, or you'll be going back to the 50s missing a hand."

"Bah," said Archie. "Fine." He stood up and took a seat further away, the same one he'd taken when he first came in. He was bouncing his leg and reading something on his phone.

Daniel was putting his sword back in its sheath when the receptionist came into the room.

"Daniel?" she asked, glancing only briefly at the sword. "They're ready for you."

"Finally," Daniel thought but didn't say, because even though he wasn't going to be around anymore, he believed in basic politeness.

He gathered his things and left the waiting room, ready to leave.

~~~~

Archie sat outside Castle Solutions, in their little courtyard, vaping.

It wasn't long before the receptionist, Lydia, came to sit next to him.

"It didn't really seem like you wanted to convince that one," she said.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry."

She shrugged and pulled out a vape pen of her own. "Sometimes you just want to yell at someone. I get that. But you're risking us getting caught. And if we get caught in the future, we probably get caught in the present."

"Yup," he said. "Won't happen again."

"Give it a few days before you come back," she said. "Three, let's say. He didn't file a complaint, so there's nothing in the system."

"Mmm," said Archie. He made a long, slow drag of the pen. They sat there vaping together for a while. It had often occurred to him that vaping was impossibly lame, but it felt less lame when done with someone else. He watched as the vapor left her mouth in a thin, concentrated stream. "You wanna go out sometime?"

"On a date?" she asked. She gave the tip of her vape pen a casual look. "No, not really."

"Alright," said Archie.

"I don't really know what your deal is," she said. "Why this is important to you. Why you want to talk people back from the brink, or yell at them."

"Mmm," said Archie. "You want to tragic backstory?"

"Meh," Lydia replied. "I'm not going on a date with someone who has a tragic backstory. That's all. Sorry. I've got my own tragic backstory, thanks very much."

"Fair," said Archie. "It was my kid brother, that's the short version. He up and left one day, left us a note that read like ... well, you know." He drew a finger across his neck.

"Where'd he go?" asked Lydia.

"England, 16th century," said Archie. "He thought he was going to take Shakespeare's place." He shook his head. "Only eighteen, you know? Unconscionable that they let kids that young through. He had his whole life ahead of him and he just ... disappeared."

Lydia sighed. "Yeah."

She turned off her vape pen, then mimed stubbing it out on the bench like a cigarette before slipping it into her purse. He felt a surge of attraction for her.

"Alright, I'll go on the date," said Lydia. "But if we're going to be dating, you've gotta stop this."

"Vaping?" asked Archie.

"You know what I mean," said Lydia. "You going in there trying to convince them to back out, that's one thing. It's noble, almost. But if it's going to be fighting, if it's you trying to work through some shit, then I'm not sticking my neck out for you. Doubly so if you want to get together. You process your trauma some other way, or repress it like the rest of us, alright?"

Archie thought about that for a moment. "Alright. Sure."

"I've got to get back to work," said Lydia as she rose from the bench. "You have my number."

Archie nodded, and after she had left, he stayed, looking out at the courtyard.

He wondered how Daniel was doing out there, in that other timeline, but he supposed that he would never know.

#micro fiction #time travel #microfiction

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proustiansleep · 16 days ago

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"We show each other our lucky finds. We dangle our seashells, make them gleam like holy relics. We pass each other our dreams like ageless epiphanies. We cannot dispense with them because they are so archi-originary, we don't even see it. Or else it's as if we were telling each other what we ate, what we wore. Insignificant things that make for a world. We used to say: le Jardin d'Essais. All of that is the Jardins d'Essais. Alchemists of the Verse-Worm.

I take note the way I take note of the corners and folds of his texts. Of those of Proust as well. Or of Rousseau. The rich beings are books. Shakespeare's plays. Strange mirrors in which we contemplate ourselves in the other (in an) image. Everything becomes writing. Everything began in writing, by writing each other, listening to each other write to each other read each other. The telephone is not for nothing in all this, Most often we 'gave' each other dreams as if in a dream, over the telephone. I imagine one day, he says, researchers, students will write theses on the telephone chez Cixous and chez Derrida, that is, in the texts, because there are many telephones in the texts, they are everywhere, everywhere, and thus I imagine when the telephone starts to become archaic, people will say: there, in the era of telephones those two wrote a lot on the telephone, he says this to me on the telephone. We are surprised by the telephone. Relieved, threatened, promised. He projects a past to come. I turn toward a past past, toward the dawn of the telephone, toward the premises and beginnings, the primitive telephones: birds flowerpots golden threads beginning with Tristan and Isolde and passing through Armance, the Princess of Cleves, the irascible divinities of Lost Time, how is one supposed to live cordlessly, without cor, without horn, without voice, we never stop describing and conjuring all the uncontrollable cut-offs of communication, figures of the ultimate cut-off, rehearsals and sketches, he always further out front in imagining imagelessly the teletechnological event, he always stands way off on the bow of time, searching the horizon, I am more likely at the stern, taking past misfortune as the measure of chances in the present." —Hélène Cixous, Insister of Jacques Derrida

#cixous #derrida

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somethinghappenedsohereiam · 4 months ago

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I AM THINKING

Uhhh fandoms involved in this thought: Cookie Run: Kingdom and Sonic the Hedgehog (Archie comics)

A bit of Jekyll and Hyde the musical as well

So none of these things are really connected except for one thing. Take a look at these:

I LOVE when two characters are almost mirrors. Each example is of course different, but they all share the same sentiment of "you could be me" "you will become me, it's inevitable" and/or "you are me". (I know Jekyll and Hyde are the same person, my point still stands depending on interpretation)

The reason I'm mentioning all this is because I don't know what to call this??? Cause it's not exactly mirroring. Jekyll IS Hyde, but he's been changed so much he doesn't want to see himself as the same person. Scourge IS sonic, but he was raised in such a different world and learned different morals they may as well be completely different people, but they still share similar traits to different extremes because they are both a version of sonic. Shadow Milk Cookie (I haven't finished the story in the game yet) is a previous holder of what Pure Vanilla Cookie has (from what I remember) and is taunting Pure Vanilla Cookie with a repeat of history, that he will corrupt as Shadow Milk Cookie did. That they are the same in that regard.

It all feels so similar and mirrored yet opposite and I love it so much!! I don't know what to call it, but this is my favorite thing in media. Like ever, I think

#sonic the hedgehog #scourge the hedgehog #archie sonic #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #henry jekyll #edward hyde #cookie run #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie #cookie run kingdom #brain move to fast to words

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kinopioa · 7 months ago

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I dont think we need to take Ken penders words for anything, the man is hated for reasons beyond his bad writing. He threw ofher writers he worked with under the buss all the time. Back in the early 2000s he would get anoyyed if someone complimented another writer besides him. He once said, he did his own thing because 'Sega didn't give him much to work with" and would imply his writing made the Sonic characters deeper then in the games. Jon Gray even stated, fhe entire reason why Ken left because he couldn't do what he wanted since his unused plans would break several rules with Sonic's character, especially regarding Shadow. He's now pretending to still care about Sonic's brand because Sonic fans are the only one giving him any attention nowadays.

He is 100% a grifter, idiot, glory hog, has daddy issues, probably misses the 90s when regulation was lax as fuck

But he is unironically right regarding Flynn's parasocial involvement with the fandom. That's the only thing I care about. Given my own research on Ian, Pender's 100% right. Ian already was doing interviews 4 years before he got on Archie, and then generated more interest with the bumbleking forums, and later paid questionaire podcasts. No other writer is this directly in view of fandom opinions, and as seen in his writing, appeals directly to fan bias pretty often

The entire reason he killed Tommy, treated Cream like shit, and fucked with a stupid 5 year "There's a traitor!" with Silver is directly cuz he was mirrored fandom ire. They hated Tommy being dead weight, they hated Cream for "kiddifying the franchise", they hated Silver for being a naive guy from a bad game

I've also noticed Flynn indirectly thrived on surrounding drama of the greater fandom. 06's reception + Archie writers dropping is the only reason he got hired. Yardley's less shit art is why writing got leeway. The 2013 lawsuit causing the reboot gave him a by for "not using expanded chars" along with getting Archie noticed by the games fandom, and Lost World/Forces failing for reception led to people to look more into spinoffs

I see people randomly gas up Archie Sonic as a powerhouse or peak entirely cuz they see this scene out of context

Even though this literally happens right after. He doesn't even beat him legitimately later, he was beaten cuz suddenly his mech is ineffective to most of the FF and Ray. Fucking Ray

People further cementing "skip to issue 160" and accrediting all good writing to Ian is also grounds for creating another Penders. Sadly I think it worked

So I don't give a shit about Pender's ramblings of his "great writing" given how miniscule his impact is nowadays. The only thing of impact to the games he did was bury the idea of a Chronicles sequel, an already noncanon game. I DO care if someone effectively hired by nepotism still shows his bias and misconception for this franchise. This stance in 2008 I don't think changed given how he's been trying to sneak in Archie refs still

If not Ian, it'd be another "fan" on Twitter doing similar disregard of the games

The term "a broken clock right twice a day" is what I'd say applies to Penders for his notes on Ian. Otherwise, outside Spiderman 4 dev, he is to be ignored mostly

Well that and him dunking Krash, that was just...wow. Rare W

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crab-boy-blues · 1 year ago

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I cannot express the amount of home that this show has given me.

As a queer, transmasc person, I have never felt very comfortable with labels. I thought I was lesbian, then non-binary and bisexual, and then just a gay trans guy. Although I'm fairly sure I'm only attracted to masculine aligned people and that I am masculine aligned myself, I only felt the need for those labels because it's just so much easier to be binary. To have solid answers to who you are, to fit nicely into one category, to be easy to explain. But I have never been a polar or binary person in any sense, I have always been fluid. From my gender identity to expression, my ADHD fixation cycle of constantly moving on to new things, to my tendency to mirror people and morph a bit into different situations.

But nothing about our world just lets you live free and fluid like that. This is not conducive with our society of cishet being the default, and anything else needing to be clearly stated. Because you can't just be different and go unexplained, you have to justify your very existence. It is exhausting to live as a fluid person in many aspects, and constantly having to pinpoint myself on arbitrary scales that were set up by other people, to help them understand. I don't owe anyone coordinates to the exact degree of my transness. You don't owe anyone an explanation.

Our flag means death is such a beautiful depiction of a way of being that just lets people be. At almost no point is straight the expectation. The words queer and gay don't come up a single time throughout the show (correct me on that if I'm wrong), because it's just not relevant. The point of the show is that they're in love, and the fact that they're both men has almost no bearing on the situation whatsoever. Because it doesn't change anything. Jim is never acknowledged as trans, there isn't a coming out, Jim is just Jim, and it's not questioned. Olu, Zheng, Jim, and Archie's relationship is never clarified. Because we don't need to know if they're two couples or one quadruple, it just. Doesn't. Matter.

This stupid fucking beautiful show let's these wonderful characters be who they are, no presets to their selfness. To hell with historical accuracy, to hell with realism. Because this pocket of celebration of self, of queer joy, of love, it isn't about that. It's not about the details, or the timeline, or the exactness. It just is. It's fluid and free and fucking beautiful. And it's a home for people like me.

"it's about belonging to something"

#ofmd #our flag means death #queer joy #safe space ship #its about belongling #our flag means love #taika waititi #rhys darby #ed teach #stede bonnet #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #gif by:#@startreklesbian

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diltonsstrangescience · 7 months ago

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Outfit appreciation post (girls edition) part 4

#thanks jhsharman #archie comics #outfit appreciation post #midge klump #betty cooper #veronica lodge #melody valentine #SHE’S got a cool last name #some random background character #(with glasses. so probably a dilton love interest at some point. if we’re being honest.)#those two girls from freaky mirror world #sabrina spellman

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ofmdsalt · 1 month ago

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so regarding the environment and fan culture that brought about pccp.

GB girlies and izzy antis twisted ofmd into the bastion of radically progressive queer media, and made GB into beacon of all good queer rep, when most of it was just Not That Deep (or even well-written, if we're looking at s2). and in order to pat themselves on the back for being upstanding queer citizens and consumers of the morally upright media, they obviously have to point blame to a villain - systemic homophobia. the obvious villain here is obviously the british empire, but because the empire is not a material villain they project it onto the next closest thing; a shouty angry secondary antagonist, and turn him into the embodiment of all and every form of real-world queer oppression.

but wait, that's not enough! that's not politically savvy enough! they need to add another dimension of racialised violence in Ed and Izzy's dynamic to show JUST how politically progressive they are.

which, ironically, is an interpretation that's actually more racist. ofmd deliberately averted overt homophobia directed at its protagonists because they didn't want that to be a trigger for its audience, and the fans loved praising it for being SO SAFE and SO COMFORTING and SO COZY. unfortunately, izzy antis needed izzy to be the axis of all oppression that Ed suffers, so the resulting OFMD that existed in the heads of Izzy antis is a show where white queers get an escapist love story, but characters of colour has to suffer years of systemic racism. and as a fan of colour......it's the kind of performance of race awareness that can only come from a fandom of white queers overcompensating for their white guilt. if we're being honest.

a white guy racefaking to give his arguments more weight? a fandom so up its own arse and high on its fumes of moral superiority is just perfect environment for that kind of jobless behaviour tbh.

(had this sitting in the drafts for a while and now i've finally returned to it)

oh anon i think you've hit the head on a lot of issues here.

to preface: i think OFMD is a perfectly fine show. it's fun. it's well acted. the set design and costuming was great. the first season obviously remains my favourite because of how well everything sort of fits together.

season 2, well, it has it's moments, but knowing what we know of production, i think it was nerfed quite a bit and what we got was a bit of a mess and all over the place in terms of pacing and storytelling. a lot of characters were ill developed because they didn't have the time they needed to continue their character arcs. i was honestly so confused by Archie's introduction because so much time had been skipped and suddenly Jim is in a new relationship?? so the relationship they had with Oluwande just fizzled out. and obviously we never would have gotten that poly ship between Jim, Archie, Olu, and Zheng, so that remains just a mess of a story.

and obviously this isn't even touching upon the elephant in the room Ed/Izzy/Stede

characters i wouldn't even want to touch with a ten foot poll because they have been so torn apart by fandom speculation that they now exist as caricatures of themselves if we're being honest

what i find frustrating about how izzy is treated within this fandom, is that people pour their frustrations onto him and refuse to look in the mirror.

for example: some people critique trans Izzy headcanons. and it usually boils down to 'if you want GOOD trans representation, Jim is right there' as if that isn't condescending as hell. here's the thing: Jim as non-binary representation gets sidelined by the main story in s2. that's just the reality. whatever made them interesting in s1, got completely skipped over in s2. we weren't seeing Jim on screen in s2. we were seeing Vico. and if people can make critiques like that of trans Izzy headcanons, would it be fair of me to say the same about trans Ed headcanons? gnc Stede headcanons? if you want gnc representation, Jim is literally right there

and what it comes down to is, don't yuck anyone's yum???

and obviously this fandom has a racism problem. and it's hilarious to see some people saying 'i didn't realize it was so bad' when it's been obvious from the start that if you treat liking a character as a litmus test for how good you are as a person, you're going to run into racism by implying that IF YOU LIKE IZZY AS A CHARACTER THEN YOU ARE EITHER 1) RACIST OR 2) YOU HAVE INTERNALIZED RACISM AS A FAN OF COLOUR IN THIS FANDOM

and i doubt this fandom will learn from this

#ofmd critical #ofmd fandom critical #ofmd #god im tired lmao

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leggerefiore · 2 years ago

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You and your now retired villainous team leader lover go to Alola on vacation. There, you encounter someone who looks just like them. Well, mostly.

cw: fluff, boyfriend Maxie and Archie are ORAS while their counterparts are their RSE designs

pairings: Lysandre/Reader, Cyrus/Reader, Maxie/Reader, Archie/Reader

~~~~~~~~~~

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ Lysandre had sought to have a vacation from his work after hearing about some world ending event attempted in another region. It seemed he had not yet been able to forgive himself for the horrible mistake he had nearly made himself still. It was little wonder how he avoided jail time. Certainly, a heavily connected family and enough money to make most people cry couldn't have played a part. You could only shake your head and be happy he learnt to, at least, not try to kill everyone to solve his philosophical debates. Alola was an obvious destination, too. He naturally booked the most expensive place he could.

☕️ The vacation was going relatively well. Lysandre truthfully was not that interested in going around exploring nature in his stressed state, but he found himself relaxing and enjoying the offerings of the Hano Grand Resort. You found yourself at ease, too. There was a level of romance in most things done with the Pyroar-esque man. You admit there was a lot of time spent locked up in your resort room together. Not that there was a lot of complaining on your end. If Lysandre was one thing besides a fool, it was an attentive and caring lover.

☕️ Of course, when you manage to get him away from the resort to actually see a bit of Alola proper, you lost him. And of all places to lose a giant, Kalosian man, you lost him in the Aether Paradise. He had mentioned knowing the head of the Aether Foundation and wished to exchange pleasantries with her before joining you to look around. It was wrecking your nerves a bit as the sterile and artificial feeling of the building was growing quickly overbearing. Gazing around, you spied the familiar giant gazing out in the conservation area. You called out to him softly, not wanting to draw too much attention to you both. He turned around instantly at the sound of your voice. You nearly jumped back at his attire and surprised expression. Easily, Lysandre began to make his way over to you, his face shifting to something more lovely.

☕️ You felt shocked by him wearing the heavy suit he has been so fond of, especially during his time of leading Team Flare. Even more so as you were certain that it was not what he was wearing when you had parted from him just recently. He had been wearing lighter clothing since Alola's temperature was quite warm. Then, from your left, a strong voice called your name with some concern. Turning your head, you saw another Lysandre, but this time wearing the clothing you recalled him in. He marched right to you, clearly having been searching for you as you had him.

☕️ Once he reached your side, he turned to where you had your gazed affixed and felt ill. Lysandre only hoped this was some sleight of the eye as he stared into what almost felt like a mirror. The other Lysandre froze, too. Both seemed to exchange harsh looks after regaining themselves. The one still clad in heavy black and orange sighed. “… Tell me,” he spoke to your Lysandre, “Can you accept this foolish world still? Do you not desire to fix it for them?” Your Lysandre stood stupefied by the question, completely unprepared for such a thing to be brought up to him.

☕️ When no response came, the other Lysandre shook his head and marched off from you both. Your hand was tightly grasped by the Lysandre you knew as he let out a sharp breath. Closing his eyes, one could only wonder what was running through his mind. The situation seemed impossible, truthfully. Could that have been some tormentor seeking to punish Lysandre for what he had attempted to do? It made no sense. You softly embraced the Kalosian and felt his arms come around you tightly, too. It was not long after you both departed back to the resort, unsure of what to take away from the encounter.

☕️ Lysandre found himself speaking of the situation later to Sycamore, who was simply baffled by it, too. At first, Lysandre had come to the conclusion that it must have been some cruel attack on him, yet the more he considered how the look-alike had gazed at him, the more he felt it had truly been some other version of himself. One that had somehow succeeded where he had failed. That thought haunted him worse than any tormentor could have ever done. The man felt truly lucky he had been stopped. That world he envisioned… It was not something he wished to curse you to exist in, not anymore.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ Alola was supposed to be a good change of pace for Cyrus since everything that had happened. He only avoided a lengthy prison sentence due to yours and Cynthia's pledging to keep him in line. Cyrus certainly threatened to keep trying to make his ideal world, yet nothing had truly come to fruition after everything. Team Galactic even falling apart without his leadership in place. Much to your relief, he seemed to retire himself to his hobby of mechanical work. His fascination for machinery was something he obviously felt dedicated to. You'd suggested the vacation more so on a whim when you saw him seemingly overwhelmed by something.

☄️ It had been going as well as a semi-forced vacation with Cyrus could go. He was not a fan of beaches and almost seemed aghast at the thought of going to one. You supposed it made sense. He had, after all, avoided Sunnyshore with a passion back home. Still, you found things apart from that to entertain yourself in the beautiful, peaceful region. Cyrus found himself a strange admirer in the form of one of the Trial Captains on Ula'Ula Island. You could tell he was slightly embarrassed by it all.

☄️ You somehow had managed to get separated from him in Malie, having planned to go visit the garden there and share a meal at the Sushi High Roller. You stood in mild distress as you dug around your bag for your phone. Before you could find it, however, you spied a familiar spiky style of hair. Rushing after him, you froze. Cyrus, as you had seen him earlier, had been wearing a short-sleeved button down and jeans. Now, distressingly, you saw familiar grey clothing that you never hoped to see again. His head turned to you and confirmed your horrible suspicions. Cyrus stared at you with wide eyes. Many words wished to leave your mouth, but you found them stuck as he walked toward you.

☄️ Everything had been going so well with him. You couldn't understand why he would go back to his old ways. Had you been too hopeful in him changing? A voice calling out your name broke your worrying ponderings. There, at the restaurant you were supposed to meet at, stood another Cyrus. This one in the clothing you recalled. Confusion ate at your brain. The Galactic uniformed Cyrus was still walking toward you. You motioned the casually dressed Cyrus over.

☄️ He begrudgingly came, obviously a bit annoyed. When he took to your side, you could only watch as his doppelgänger stopped dead in his tracks. Your Cyrus narrowed his eyes. Something was obviously wrong here. “I see,” the Galactic uniformed Cyrus spoke with obvious displeasure, “I must have failed to acquire my ideal world here. How unfortunate.” Your Cyrus was stricken by his counterpart's words.

☄️ With little time to react, the other Cyrus vanished into a crowd and left you both bewildered. You decided to still go to the restaurant to try to figure out whatever that was. Your theory of him having an evil clone was struck down, but he did seem to ruminate on it quite hard. Something about the words from the look-alike left Cyrus in a certain rut of madness. There was little more to discuss about on the topic, however.

☄️ What you did not know was Cyrus's internal consideration. He knew that you both had certainly encountered another him somehow. A version of himself that had somehow been successful in obtaining the power of the legendary he had sought, only for the ideal world to still be null. Everything he had done was truly for naught. In the end, he supposed, it at least gave him some unexpected closure. He would truly just have to deal with this world as it was.

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 Why drag your beloved wannabe geologist out to another tropical paradise when you technically already lived in one? Well, for one, to have a change of pace. Maxie had essentially somehow got out of all charges of ecoterrorism due to Wallace and Steven acknowledging he wasn't ever going to anything like that again after nearly killing all life on earth with his plans. Instead, he decided to dedicate himself to focusing on his obvious love of the earth and restructuring Team Magma. Still, you could tell he was struggling to settle into a relaxed life in Hoenn, despite his love for his home. Which led to a suggestion of visiting Alola to clear his head.

🪨 The normal beach appeal may have not been for him, but you could easily tell he enjoyed himself in exploring the Haina Desert, volcanic regions, and the different sands varied across the region. His enjoyment of the tour of the Aether Paradise. He quite enjoyed the idea of pokemon conservation, naturally. He would easily find himself engaged in conversations with other scientific minds around the region or glaring at a certain type of beach-going men.

🪨 Somehow, on your way up to Wela Volcano Park, you found yourself separated from Maxie. You even stood a bit amazed, looking around at the dried grass and steaming volcanic pits for any sight of him. He wasn't exactly someone who blended in easily. One more look at a certain cliff side led to you noticing a familiar redhead. Calling out his name while running over to him, you felt yourself freeze when he turned around. His clothing was a strange form of something clearly related to Team Magma, and his hair was styled differently. His eyes went wide upon seeing you. He quickly began to trail over to you.

🪨 He looked like your lover, certainly, but there was more wrong than the outfit he wore. Maxie had been wearing shorts and a mock neck top, not the attire the man before you wore. Before you could tangle your thought process into a knotted mess, a voice then called out your name. Turning around, you spied Maxie as you remembered him. His brimmed glasses and displeased expression, something you could never mistake anywhere. He seemingly caught on to something being wrong from your face as he rushed over to you, despite his distaste for running.

🪨 Maxie stood at your side soon enough. His look-alike stopped in his descent from his higher position as he gazed at the newcomer carefully. The grimaces that fell upon both their faces were almost alike, yet the other Maxie's looked more intimidating. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I see… I suppose I was mistaken, then,” his voice rang with a level of irritation, “A failure, how disappointing. What strange attire, too.” Maxie nearly stumbled back at the oddness of his words.

🪨 Before either you could question the doppelgänger, he wandered off into the brush. The two of you stood there in complete shock at what you had each witnessed. A failure? What could he have meant? Maxie seemed distressed by the obvious and recognisable insignia that Not-Maxie wore, and quickly pulled out his phone to contact Courtney and Tabitha about the encounter. Neither of them knew anything about it either, however. The eerie feeling of it had you both leave the route before seeing the volcano to find some peace of mind.

🪨 The poor Magma Leader found himself scrambling over the words for the entire evening that followed. A failure… The glint in his eyes. The attire. He couldn't help but feel recollection of that Zinnia's insistence of a world just like theirs without Mega-Evolution. The thought disturbed him. He had failed, thankfully for all life on this planet, but what of that possible other him? Did he harness Groudon's power? He could only shudder and be grateful he had been stopped in this timeline.

🌧Archie🌊

💧 Archie had truthfully been the one to insist on a vacation to Alola. He narrowly avoided a lengthy prison sentence by showing complete remorse for the near annihilation he had almost wrought upon the entire world and agreeing to work protecting Hoenn's waters from pollution and other issues. Team Aqua had been reorganised in the end, too. Archie, having really gathered a gaggle of people who adored him. He still felt awful for what he had done and decided that he needed a change of pace, which brought you both to Alola.

💧 You swore he had not left the water since you arrived, besides when he needed to sleep or eat. His Sharpedo and Mightyena were constantly out and playing with him in the water, too. It was honestly great to see him so revitalised after everything. You had joined him, too, naturally, but simply lacked the endurance to remain in the water as much as he did. Everything had been feeling a little too beach-oriented, ultimately. It was a bit expected with a boyfriend like Archie, however.

💧 You had managed to drag him out to see other sights, somehow. A trip to Seafolk Village had proven quite thrilling, and the pirate easily found himself at home there. You had not, it seemed, as you had become separated from him. You gazed around the pier curiously, wondering if he had gone aboard one of the ships. The sight of a familiar blue headband relieved you instantly. Calling out his name, you watched the man turn around. It was then you realised you had it wrong, as this man was decidedly not Archie at all. He had been in his swimming trunks and a tank top this morning, and this man certainly was not wearing that. His grin did widen at the sight of you, dark eyes clearly recognising you, and he began to approach you.

💧 You felt frantic, as he was almost certainly wearing your boyfriend's bandana. He resembled him to an eerie extent, but his skin tone was certainly not the same. You were about to apologise and explain you were looking for someone else when arms wrapped around your waist and someone excitedly called out your name. Archie's smell of the sea was easy to recognise. Softly, you tugged him to your side to look at his odd near doppelgänger.

💧 Archie easily followed, leaving an arm around you as he gazed at the man in all black. The minute their eyes made contact, you could almost see something strange occur in both their minds. You felt Archie squeeze you closer into his side while the other man stopped in his path to you. The not-Archie stuck his hand in his pocket and let out an audible sigh. “What a strange world, I thought I found my Luvdisc,” his voice sounded identical to Archie's own, inflection and all. He had even used a common pet name Archie had for you. “'Seems I was wrong. The ocean is normal here, and I decided to wear an anchor.” Archie shifted at his words.

💧 Before the pirate could snap, the strange man called out a Sharpedo and surfed away from you both. You held Archie back from chasing after him, holding odd feelings about the encounter. He seemed to recognise you and called you a pet name that only Archie used. They were freakishly similar despite their obvious differences. He also had a bandana that you certainly only thought Archie would wear. You looked at him and he at you. He then let out one of his laughs and shook his head. It seemed whatever that was would be better off forgotten, so you headed to the boat restaurant Archie had discovered to eat.

💧 Except, Archie only wanted you to forget the odd encounter with his not-quite twin. He could feel a certain determination when he looked into his eyes. It was one that had long since passed him. Zinnia's odd ramblings about an alternate timeline without Mega-Evolution hit him hard. The remark about deciding to wear an anchor really sunk it in. Some mad version of himself out there had really managed to flood the earth, hadn't he? Archie suddenly felt relieved that scamp had snapped him out of it here.

#pokemon x reader #lysandre x reader #cyrus x reader #archie x reader #maxie x reader #lysandre/reader #cyrus/reader #maxie/reader #archie/reader #pokemon lysandre x reader #pokemon cyrus/reader #pokemon maxie x reader #pokemon archie x reader

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wallbeatjournal · 10 months ago

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Keggie or Regchie?

i mean, kevin/reggie is inherently disadvantaged here as a supporting character ship. they have less going on, and what they do have going on is often a mirror of what's happening to the main characters. THAT SAID i do love kevin. and i think there's so much that's interesting about their dynamic especially in season 6/percival plot times...

but cmon. archie/reggie, man. main character/rival-foil if you're looking at s1-6?? boy best friend/boy best friend if you're looking at s7?? come onnnn that's irresistible. ARCHIE MADE REGGIE WEEP FOR THE WARM JOY OF BEING SUPPORTED AND CARED FOR DOES THAT NOT MAKE YOU FEEL CRAZY KIND OF?? DOES THAT NOT MAKE YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AND HEALING AND THE FUNDAMENTAL GOODNESS OF HUMAN NATURE A LITTLE BIT??

sorry to shout i just. it all kind of bubbles up unexpectedly when i think about archie and reggie in what-if-adults-protected-us-sometimes-so-we-could-form-age-appropriate-attachments world.

and s1-6 archiereggie...fuck outta here. there's soooo much baggage to unpack we could sit here and do that FOREVER. archiereggie s5-6 especially would be so fucked up for reggie but maybe they could figure it out if they confronted it. maybe. given 80k words or so...just saying...if someone wants to write it...

#riverdale #archie andrews #reggie mantle #kevin keller #archiereggie #keggie #is that really the smush name we're going with.#keggie. yeah ok

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casusvallis · 5 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋ WELCOME TO THE CASUS VALLIS TUMBLR ´ˎ˗

This blog contains artworks, texts, maps, answers, and miscellanious things relating to the world of Casus Vallis.

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What is Casus Vallis?

╰┈➤ It is a small, fictional valley town hidden in a mysterious set of mountains. It is the setting where the story takes place. You can find a basic map of Casus Vallis at [the link here].

╰┈➤ Hidden within the crevices of the town is a mysterious pool that traps people in a horrifying world often called The Mirror World. It is the secondary setting where the story takes place. You can find a basic map of The Mirror World at [the link here].

╰┈➤ Several different characters live in Casus Vallis, most of which being college students who attend the Casus Vallis College of International Arts. With a total population of 3000 in the whole town, and a population of less than 1000 students, the land is small and quaint, but with a lot of history. The story centres around six college students who have to come together to protect the town and solve its many mysteries.

╰┈➤ The town has faced many hardships since its inception centuries ago, some of which being otherworldly and hard to explain. There are many secrets that residents of the town have kept for decades, making the town quiet and unsettling.

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Where can I learn more?

╰┈➤ I have a CharacterHub! Find it at [the link here].

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What warnings should I know beforehand?

╰┈➤ Casus Vallis depicts certain characters who participate in unsafe or triggering activities.

╰┈➤ Some may include but are not limited to; drug and alcohol use, sexual activity, violence, and abuse.

╰┈➤ There are also characters who befall misfortune, are faced with hardship, and experience other traumatic events.

╰┈➤ This may also include; hospitals, medical malpractice, scarring, body horror, blood and mentions of blood, depictions of illness and sickness, bigotry, and this list may alter or change as the story progresses.

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Where can I find specific posts?

╰┈➤ All posts regarding Casus Vallis can be found at #casus vallis

╰┈➤ All posts regarding the map of Casus Vallis can be found at #casus map

╰┈➤ All posts regarding the map of The Mirror World can be found at #casus map: mirror

╰┈➤ All posts regarding the main characters in Casus Vallis can be found at #casus vallis: the protectors

Yhat: #casus vallis: yhat Gwen: #casus vallis: gwen Archie: #casus vallis: archie Donnie: #casus vallis: donnie Dusk: #casus vallis: dusk Quill: #casus vallis: quill

╰┈➤ All posts regarding the secondary main characters in Casus Vallis can be found at #casus vallis: junior protectors guild

╰┈➤ All posts regarding mirror world characters (good or bad) can be found at #casus vallis: enter the mirror world

╰┈➤ All posts regarding side characters in Casus Vallis can be found at #casus vallis: misc characters

╰┈➤ All answered questions can be found at #casus ask

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[IMG ID: A group six friends posing for a photo. They are all smiling at the 'fourth wall'. On the top of the image in large text reads "CASUS VALLIS".

In the front row; to the left is a woman with blonde and yellow wavy hair, wearing cowpoke attire. In the middle is a man with green and brown curly hair, wearing a shirt tied into a croptop. On the right is and a woman with burgundy and cream stiff hair with a pair of silver glasses, wearing a large jacket.

In the back row; to the left is a nonbinary individual with dark brown and blue braids, wearing a sweater vest and bright makeup. In the middle is a man with brown and pink bowl cut, wearing a simple cream shirt. On the right is a man with bright blue buzzed hair, wearing a sports jacket.]

#artwork #art #ocs #story #writing #oc #casus vallis #my artwork #casus vallis: yhat #worldbuilding #longpost #casus vallis: gwen #casus vallis: quill #casus vallis: archie #casus vallis: donnie #casus vallis: dusk #casus vallis: the protectors

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