#my ancestors were idiots

[galaxyedging]

Both those reasons are so valid. Pedro has some incredible mojo over us. I'm English, but I will back the Irish any day.

Who would win for real?

Pedro, Paul, and Joseph

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 10:32

You tell Bakugou once that you don’t know how to take the train home, and he almost blasted your ears off with semi-yelling (or full-on yelling at some point) insults. 

“Hah?” He scoffs, eyes narrowing. This information is new to him, and a surprising one at that. 

You? The nerd that always bested him when it came to academics, which pissed him off the first few months in U.A.? The person who was not only book smart but was street and people smart as well? 

The whole goddamn package doesn’t know how to take the train?

Really?

He’s calling bull.

“What do you mean you don’t know how to take the train home? What kind of idiot doesn’t know that?”

“I just—“ you’re abashed and really don’t know what to say, “I didn’t really— I’ve never had the chance to take one until now!” For a consistent honors student, you can’t really have everything, can you?

“How’ve you been getting to school and back, then?”

“We had a driver—“

“Fuckin’ course—“

“But hey! Listen—in my defense—my schools were usually a walking distance from our house.”

“And now what? Gonna stand here and wait for a miracle to happen?”

You nudge his side with a frustrated frown (more like a pout, Bakugou thinks.) “Quit it, asshole.”

He backtracks briefly, though you could barely tell at this point. And it’s clear enough that he takes your words into consideration. It could be the fact that you actually look scared shitless right now, something foreign to your typical lax and carefree persona.

“C’mon.” Bakugou grabs you by the arm.

“Ow— hey! Where are we going?”

“You have to learn somehow, or else you’ll look fuckin’ clueless and dumb, nerd.”

You don’t argue because you really just wanted to get home, and while you could just call in your driver, you considered that this was important information that would help you in the long run. Besides, you do agree with Bakugou that not knowing how to commute like this is embarrassing, especially at your age.

“What’s this?” 

Bakugou hands you a card. It’s decorated with a minimalist logo of Musutafu’s native flower, whose color is your favorite.

“An IC card,” he simply answers.

It’s cute, you thought. You noticed how the other commuters had the standard design, so Bakugou must've gotten it personalized to your preference. How thoughtful.

“You could’ve just helped me get a ticket, though,” you murmur. You fiddle with the card in your hand, glancing at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t think I’ll be using this card that often. It’ll be a waste.”

“Then try and use it as often as you can, nerd.”

“I’ll pay you back for this—how much was it?”

“Forget it.”

“Really, Bak—“

“Forget it,” he barks. “Keep up, you shitty extra. Or else you’d miss the last train to your station.” Bakugou starts walking, and you follow suit.

You can load your IC card at the ticket machines or the nearest ATMs. Different stations call for different ticket gates that obviously have different fares. The expiration of cards usually depends on what provider you got them from—

“What do I do now?”

You’re hesitantly in front of the ticket gate, with Bakugou on the other side. You’re like a kid who’s lost their mother in the mall.

“Just—“ Bakugou had to take a deep breath and not make a scene in the train station. He pinched the bridge of his nose, calling for all his ancestors to give him the strength to remain patient.

“Place your shitty card on the card reader. That’s it.”

You do as you’re taught, and you awed when the gates opened and let yourself walk through with a stupidly big smile on your face. “I did it!”

Bakugou thinks it’s fucking stupid of him to think that your enthusiasm for mundane things was cute. But fuck, something must be wrong with him because suddenly he feels a flurry of butterflies lodged in his throat, his heart beating ridiculously fast. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

He gives you directions, how to navigate through Musutafu without getting lost, and the basic stations you’ll be passing by to get to your station. He sees you type most of the things he says on your phone, and the way you were so eager to learn was a sight to see, really.

Boarding the metro, people were just as eager to get home as you two. So you two stood, not that there was much room to do anything about it.

“Hold onto the handle unless you want to fall on your ass,” Bakugou says. His tone is hushed to not disturb the other passengers. At least he followed basic commuting etiquette. 

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathe out. The passing buildings were as huge as those of U.A.’s, if not bigger. With the golden hue of the apparent descent of the sun below the horizon, Musutafu just became more beautiful in your eyes.

He scoffs.

“What’s so interestin’ about a buncha tacky buildings? Never seen one before you came here?”

“Of course I have; they’re just not like this.”

Bakugou follows your line of sight, and he thinks about it carefully. He couldn’t see what you saw, but maybe it’s because he grew up looking at this scenery. It doesn’t amaze him as much as it did when he was younger, he concludes. To you, this was a first. 

An experience that could become a core memory in this city. And he’s with you as you live through it. The thought causes a familiar feeling of pride to exude from his chest.

Maybe he’ll learn to appreciate more mundane things with you too in the future.

The train stops at another station, and the people scurry out. Once in motion, you were surprised by the speed when it took off, and the motion had you stumbling back. You stumble against Bakugou.

“What did I say about keeping a firm hold on the handles, you shitty extra? That’s what those are for.” Whether it’s by instinct or unintentional, Bakugou guides your hand to hold onto the support pole. He doesn’t let go, and you didn’t make a comment about it.

“Sorry! Still getting used to it,” you quietly laugh. “I hope the people here don’t think I’m really that inexperienced when it comes to taking the metro home,” you told him. “It’s embarrassing to think that I haven’t taken one until now.”

Bakugou thinks it’s alright because you were actually on set to learn. No matter what those other extras say or comment, no matter if they give you unimpressed glances, he’s there to grant them one of his own spine-chilling glares if they had the balls to do so. 

A passenger who appeared to be around your age stood up from his seat. “Excuse me, you can take my seat. I get off at the next stop,” he says. You’re a bit hesitant to take the offer, but he reassures you that it’s fine. It’ll be an awkward death for you if you don’t accept it, because now he’s standing. “Please, I insist.”

Unknown to you, Bakugou had an obvious scowl on his face until the stranger left.

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

“Jealous?”

“Hah? Why would I be—”

“Shh!” you kicked his shoe with yours.

“Quiet, remember?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, still frowning. You hold his free hand, cheekily smiling when he tries to free it from your hold. And in the end, he lets you do whatever the fuck it is that you want, but he would never ever admit that he was jealous of some nameless extra. He’s too far into liking you to help you board a train, get you a personalized IC card, miss his stop two stations ago because yours was still three stations after his, but he doesn’t think he’d be vocal about it anytime soon.

He’ll leave it to you to confess.

Then again, you already knew.

Bakugou Katsuki would not go above and beyond like this for anyone else, but he unknowingly does for you.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[what-even-is-thiss]

You know what pisses me off about delaying the end of the world plots? There’s always someone who says “Your efforts were pointless. The world will end anyways.”

My dude, thousands or millions more years of evolution, culture, lives, isn’t pointless.

Like in tears of the kingdom when Ganondorf is like oh haha your ancestors efforts to delay me were in vain

They bought Hyrule over ten thousand years of dicking around time. That’s not nothing. Ten thousand years ago is about when we invented stone buildings. Now we have space stations. Idiot.

Oh buh you only delayed my ascension your efforts are all in vain. Tell that to all the civilizations that have risen and fallen since then, you prick.

[izzabela]

Kinda started out as a crack idea, But Bi-Han x reader, in which the reader is a pretty peaceful monk that is the wing of Liu Kang for the most part, and despite never been seen actually fighting, seems to be pretty respectable among the monks. Bi-Han really doubts there is much to them and kinda seems to dislike the reader until they are sent on a mission together for whatever reason and they end up meeting a group like the black dragon or Shao’s forces or whatever, and Bi-Han goes down, the reader ends up having to protect and Bi-Han still doubting them ends being really suprised when the reader just starts being their asses, and turns out they used to be part of that group that was attacking them

Sleeper Build - Bi Han x fem!reader

in which Bi Han doesn't know you're built like that

a/n: bi han would actually do this for sure

ship[s]: bi han x fem!monk!reader

warning(s): none, crack fic, fluff? bi han hates you at first, mid-kanon

[tf is this idiot doing all alone-]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bi Han doesn't really do "nice".

With the pressure of his ancestors on his shoulders, the expectation his brothers have of him, it's hard for him to do "nice" at all. Especially when it comes to power and strength.

Which is why it is no surprise that he doesn't understand why you're Liu Kang's wing. A person at that level should have the power to defend the Protector of Earthrealm.

So why in the elder gods' names are you in that position. Why you, a little woman with nothing but smiles and a backlog of kind answers, are you his wing?

Bi Han stars at you with judgement and loathing, eyes thin as he scrutinizes everything about you.

Lord Liu Kang is talking about some joint mission, but it's lost to him as he judges you.

Your gentle eyes, your relaxed (yet confident) posture. How can such a person like you, someone without grit, be placed at the right hand of the father.

"...And I will be sending both Bi Han and (y/n) for this mission," he finishes.

Bi Han's eyes snapped to his handler.

"My lord... come again?" he asks. Liu Kang simply repeats himself, both hands on the battle map.

"You and (y/n) will be tasked with this mission against the Black Dragon," he repeats again. "Was something lost?"

Bi Han shakes his head, and you lock eyes with him as he stares you down with that prideful- borderline angry- look.

You don't let it get to you though, and you smile kindly at him. His brothers return the sentiment, but Bi Han is apprehensive.

He bows, then takes his leave quickly, vacating the room before anyone can say anything.

"What a bundle of joy..." Johnny says sourly.

You also take your leave, but not without reminding your friend about humility.

"Be calm, you have your moments as well," and Johnny just nudges your shoulder playfully.

As you take your leave, the chatter of your friends behind you and left in that room, your mind wanders to Bi Han.

That man, as much as he masks it, struggles. His eyes are tired, and the lines and bags are proof of that alone. If that wasn't enough, his voice is rough from the years of leading, and his arms seem to be more rigid than relaxed.

The weight of his responsibilities, perhaps more, have him in a balancing act- be good for everyone.

It's a shame it clouds his judgement, especially since you've done nothing but try and be kind to him.

Let's hope he doesn't skin you alive during this mission.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mission to uncover the Black Dragon's reasons in being in Outworld went sour very quickly. That is something no one should be saying, especially as skilled as Bi Han.

The plan (after Bi Han reluctantly asked his brothers to relay it to him) was to rendezvous at a warehouse with Umgadi and Sun Do police in tow. The Black Dragon had a meeting in said warehouse, and the reason you guys were jumping him was because of a mole.

Well, the mole was a double agent, and the rendezvous point became an ambush. With twice the amount of Black Dragon, Umgadi and Sun Do forces were overwhelmed fast, and downed faster.

It left you all no choice but to split up, praying to any higher being for safe travels and a hopeful return.

You got paired with Bi Han in the midst of the chaos, and the Grandmaster sustained serious injuries in his leg and abdomen area. A semi-deep scar in his abdomen and a stab wound in his thigh. You had carried him from the scene, finally resting in an abandoned shack in the outskirts of the city.

Yes. Bi Han was carried by you, the little firecracker. Effortlessly, you had calmed him down and swiftly took him away from the danger. I mean, it's not like he needed calming down, he's the grandmaster for crying out loud.

Continuing, you set him down carefully on some raggedy cloths found in the shack. It's not much, but at least it isn't lying on the ground and getting infected immediately.

Bi Han groans as you rip open his pants leg and lift his shirt up, the semi-cool air hitting his exposed skin. Or maybe it's the fact blood is actively leaking out of his body, who knows. Point is, he's uncomfortable and about to tweak for sure.

"Unhand me!" you growls, hands hovering his wounds and emitting a soft glow of blue. His powers are at a minimum, and it looks like the cooling he's providing to his leg is working.

He hisses at the chill, then relaxes. You quirk a brow at him, and he scowls behind his mask (the giveaway was how downturned his brows were).

"I need a bandage of sorts," Bi Han commands you. "Anything will do." You cross your arms, denying his request.

"'Anything'," you gently mock with air quotes, "Will give you an infection. A rip from my shirt is fine." Bi Han stops you by grabbing your hand.

"You will do nothing of the sort," his gruff voice echoes from behind his mask. "Keep yourself respectable."

Stay clothed is what he said. Defiantly, you rip your hem wide and clean, supplying him with a decent bandage until backup came. It's a game of push and pull for you two before he concedes, allowing you to wrap around his waist.

Well-built, wonderfully toned waist.

But the danger isn't over yet, and you put the dream on the back burner. You can hear voices echo past the shack, the faintest cries and commands from a hoard of voices. Your eyes narrow, and you begin to ready yourself for the biggest defensive play of your life.

"You cannot do this alone," Bi Han huffs, shakily getting up (and failing). He stumbles a bit, back hitting the creaky wood before you catch his arm. You throw it over your shoulder before helping him sit down.

"Just sit tight, grandmaster," you tell him with an assured smile. "Leave it to me. All you need to do is breathe quieter and no one will hear you."

Bi Han scoffs, and you walk out the shack door to begin your stalking of the Black Dragon members after you.

It should be noted that this abandoned shack has been weathered and beaten by mother nature. Some planks of wood have expanded, leaving a couple holes and places of vulnerability for enemies.

There's also a couple of holes in the wood, most likely from termites that made their home here before.

Bi Han, as quietly and quickly as he can, shifts to a nearby hole in the wall. With nothing to do, and the wait for enemies being tedious, he might as well watch you to get an idea what he'll be facing.

Whatever goal he had in mind: counting enemies, devising an escape, healing, was gone as Bi Han watched you go berserk on the initiates of the evil clan.

You were covered in blood, your face littered with spatters of red around your nose, cheeks, and eyes. Your uniform, the pristine orange kept in a time-honored fashion, became even more ripped, and was covered in blood.

That usual smile on your face was gone, and your eyes remain in a state of neutrality as you bashed two head of some of the members together, their skin bruised and skulls busted wide open.

It's electrifying, but the shock lingers over the fact you have to kill someone just to survive. How the cycle of life and death seems to be fueled by the need to endure, the need to continue living.

Bi Han watches through the hole, how you easily rip someone's head and spine out of their skin, how you break a man's arm clean in a ninety-degree angle.

How you twist someone's head past the regular "snap" noise of death.

You clear these thugs out like a bull in a rodeo, hastily and messily. Still, it buys you two enough time before Bi Han hears the door rattling and some voices behind it.

"Breaking and entering!" an oddly energetic voice screeches, before the door splits into different pieces and splinters.

Johnny Cage, the illustrious actor, stands before Bi Han with an unamused look. He can't help but roll his eyes, but he stills comes to his side to pick him up carefully.

"Man, you look like hell," Johnny unceremoniously points out. "Did Cerberus take a bite out of you?" Bi Han hums lowly and angrily.

"Apologies, grandmaster," Kenshi apologizes for him. "He's.. dense."

As he's carried out, he finds you wiping sweat and blood off your face. Your orange uniform is doing a half-in-half-out look: where half of your shirt is still tucked in, and your upper portion is down and out of your arms.

Water is also getting poured all over you by Kung Lao, and you happily wash your face of all the dirt and germs from the lowlifes you just pummeled.

"Grandmaster!" you exclaim, waving and running up to him.

Bi Han bows, "You fight." You look at him with an incredulous look, but smile still as it is polite.

"Yes. I do. I would not be Lord Liu Kang's wing if I was not capable."

Bi Han nods, and you nod again before walking away and back to Kung Lao.

The scene cleans up well by itself. The Umgadi imprison the ring leader to be brought to trial, while the Sun Do police catch the lackeys for questions and info on more Black Dragon in the city.

You Earthrealmers finally go back home, and you accompany Bi Han to receive his treatment. The sterile infirmary, the only color being the red-dyed wood and the naturally deep brown wood, remained cold as you helped Bi Han with his bandages.

"You did... well," Bi Han reluctantly praises you. "But you are a monk- monk's do not fight like that..."

You chuckle before answering.

"I, uh, used to be part of the Black Dragon," you admit rather easily, still wrapping him with new wraps.

"I left a long time ago, when they were still in their growing phase. I didn't like it, hated the vileness and pure evil that sat in the room with those men," you grow quiet, disassociating as Bi Han patiently waits for the life to come back in your eyes.

"You've done well," Bi Han praises again, this time more thoroughly. "What you did back then, that is strength- loyalty is true strength."

You snap out of it, eyes meeting his for a bit before you look down and focus on wrapping him. The tips of your ears feel warm, though.

Something shifts in Bi Han's heart as he's left alone for the rest of the night. He has to stay in the infirmary for a couple more days, but that's enough time to think.

He didn't know you were built like that, but he'd like to see how far the limit goes with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it's 1AM and i'm eepy

see yall in the next fic!

[sugurouge]

— call her my obsession : ghostface! ex boyfriend! endo yamato x f!reader

content warnings! DARK CONTENT, mask kink, slight stalking, hunter/prey, possessive topics, lovesick endo, lots of praise, marking, biting, public sex, pet names (doll, good little thing/ thing, darling, bunny, princess, sweetheart, he rambles), dubcon, yandere themes, slight strangling&asphyxiation, hair pulling, remnants of conditioning, toxic relationship, cunnilingus, rough sex, manhandling

summary: endo would do anything to please. even if you have scratched him out of your life months ago, he would never give up on the person he loves that easily. when will you learn that he lives to make you happy? maybe if he brings your wildest fantasies to life, you will let him in again. in the end, he is nothing but hopelessly devoted to you

wordcount: 2.8k | my kinktober masterlist

a/n: this is my piece for the tokyo station ghostface collab! i hope you will enjoy <3

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

by clicking read more you are agreeing to consume dark content. don't interact if you cannot differentiate fiction from reality.

It all began at a silly Halloween party. You showed up dressed provocatively, in a skin-tight black bodysuit and a laughable excuse for cat makeup, topped off with a pair of fake ears. It looked cheap, but in the best way possible, a pair of icy blues noted amused. His brave little bunny hiding in cat clothing.

Throughout the night, you felt his presence, like a chilling gust of wind that had shivers crawl up your spine. Yes, someone was watching you—someone hiding behind a rubber white mask. You saw many of said mask that night, but he stood out. The tight fitting black turtleneck, muscular build, gloved hands. Everything made him look too hot to be at this shabby party. 

He knew you were watching him, lusting after him. You were probably halfway gone the moment he first touched you. Strong hands hovered over your hips as you swayed to the playlist's songs. Despite the booming of the music, your pathetic mewl rang through to his very core. The tremble of your glossy lips told him all about the dirty thoughts that were racing through your pretty mind.

Naughty little thing.

How dare you leave him alone on the dance floor after eyefucking him as much as he did you? You were an open book, playing hard to get like the princess you are as your heels carried you through the crowd. Yet, that longing gaze over your shoulder was all he needed to keep following you. He could almost smell your arousal. The thought of your wet pussy made him salivate, made him miss everything you two once had even more. Sharp canines dig into his bottom lip to keep him grounded. 

He had to focus; he couldn’t lose you now. 

Not when you finally made it outside the abandoned house, moonlight casting you in an ethereal glow, making you look like an angel.

But where are you taking him? Why are you so certain he’ll follow you? 

With only one goal in mind, your feet follow the pathway until you reach the edge of a little forest. You can’t help the curiosity that screams at you to just give all this a try. Those scenes in horror movies that make you unconsciously press your thighs together, make you bite your nails until your old company pointed out your adorable reactions. It was embarrassing back then, realising that such twisted scenes turn you on, and even more so, the wish to be chased for once. You never expected this to actually happen. 

So this is all your own fault. Because of your stupid social media and movie obsession. What kind of idiot would actually want to play catch in the woods with fucking Ghostface? With a stranger of all things. Your ancestors would be so disappointed. 

The forest looms ahead, dark and foreboding, each shadow seeming to stretch out, eager to swallow you whole. Your breath quickens, heart pounding in your chest as you venture deeper. The moonlight barely pierces the dense canopy above, casting eerie patterns on the forest floor.

It all seemed like child’s play, until actual fear settles in your bones. Until your heels make your escape harder, getting stuck in the dirt or caught on roots again and again. The game has turned dangerous, as adrenaline surges through you. The echo of your pursuer's footsteps grow louder, closer.

He teases you with the cracking of branches beneath his heavy footwear, he must have an easy time stalking behind. “Sweetheart, where are you bringing me?” His raspy voice rings through the trees, as clear as if he were to stand right behind you—looming above your smaller frame like a starved wolf. Your mind races, torn between the intoxicating excitement and the creeping terror as a whimper seems like your pathetic answer to his question. You have fantasised about this moment, but reality is far more intense. The fear is real, and so is the man chasing you. “I thought you wanted to play with me as much as I wanna play with you, bunny~” 

How dare you try to get away from him?

Maniacal laughter echoes through the woods as Endo watches you stumble through the dark, refusing to speak with him, you seem unable to think. Are you really that scared? "Stop trying to run from me," he warns, impatience starting to lace his voice. "You were such a good little thing, got me all riled up. Now let me catch my reward."

The forest seems to close in around you, shadows dancing and whispering secrets as you desperately search for a way forward. But the footsteps of your pursuer only grow louder, the sound of leaves crunching underfoot mixing with your staggered breaths. Endo revels in the chase, the joy of witnessing your fear, and the promise of what comes next.

"I want the woods to hear your pretty moans, all for me," he nearly moans the words as he tears off the Ghostface mask to see better. His crazy blue eyes lock onto you, the moonlight illuminating his face, twisted with a mix of lust and madness all for you to see. 

You stumble upon the initial scare, heart pounding wildly in your chest. How? Why? Out of all the people in the world. “No backsies~” Endo warns, as you lose sight of him in the trees. Anyone, anyone but him. You hide behind a tree, eyes heavy from the tears you were fighting back now spilling free. The forest, once a place of curiosity for your dark fantasies, feels like a trap. And Endo is closing in on you. 

It’s an eerie atmosphere as silence holds your body still like a ghostly embrace. You are too scared to speak, move, or look. You should really be on the lookout for your surroundings, but your eyes remain tightly shut, tears seemingly unending as they ruin your makeup and taint your cheeks.

The stillness is unbearable.

Until Endo reaches you. His strong frame overwhelms you in an instant. Somewhere along the way he rid himself of the constricting sweater, freeing his heated skin to let his signature tattoos greet you. The sudden proximity of his body wraps a blanket of intense, nearly unbearable heat, around you. It battles the stark contrast of the chill that clings to your body. His hand grasps into your hair recklessly, yanking you back until you have no choice but to stumble into his broad chest. The tattoos that snake along his arms are suddenly around your neck, his fingers pressing into the delicate skin to successfully constrict your breath.

Endo hums cheerfully, much unlike the given situation, his sugary voice vibrates against your ear as he whispers, "Found ya!" The sweetness of his words contradicts sharply with the crude actions that follow as he presses you against a tree, his teeth bruise your shoulder before he nibbles along your neck.

His canines break your skin with ease as his nails dig into your hips, to perfectly hold you in place. You feel your body break beneath his strength, effortlessly being handled like Endo's favourite toy when he arches you into the tree, your ass out for his cock to rut against while he abuses your skin, littering it with love bites. "Fuck me, you smell so good, pretty thing," he murmurs while shamelessly inhaling your scent, just as sweet as he remembers. “I’ve missed you so much, you can’t imagine…”

Deep, raspy moans of your name and filthy mumbles are a haunting symphony of his deep love. 

He can no longer contain his excitement. The need to have you, to feel you, to taste you again reigns over him. Endo's large hands run along your outer thighs before moving to the insides to let his fingertips tease your overly sensitive skin. Greedily, he cups your pussy in his palm, his fingers brushing against your clit through the fabric. Oh, he loves how much you leak because of him. He has no other choice but to rub in just how much your body reacts to him. 

You fulfil Endo. The pathetic cry that escapes your lips? Heavenly. The plea of his name? Delicious. And the nimble fingers trying to push against his strong hand? "Fuck, you’re so cute," Endo whispers in a most lovesick way possible.

But enough playing around. Enough hiding from him. Endo focuses back onto the task ahead, onto the flimsy bodysuit you’re wearing. Which is, by the way, so easy to tear, to conquer what he needs, just like that: His fingertips dig into the fabric between your thighs and the harsh ripping sounds have you jolt awake, have you pull away from his grasp like a spoiled brat—he hates brats.

"Stop putting up a fight," he murmurs, "You asked for this." The sharp sting in your scalp is a brutal reminder of your place as Endo yanks your hair once more, pulling you back into his grasp. Your head rests on his shoulder, his crazed gaze locking onto your widened eyes, fear evident in your pretty pupils. Two fingers pump deeply into your cunt, scissoring your walls to prepare you for his own twisted desires. "Look at you, clinging to my fingers like a cockhungry little monster," he chuckles, relishing in his own words and your ashamed reaction as you struggle to maintain eye contact. 

"Why don’t your pretty lips beg for me as well?" he whispers into your ear before his teeth graze your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. "Beg for me to fuck you out in the open. Beg for me, come on, pretty girl, I need you to tell me how desperate you are for me right this fucking moment." His eyes widen with excitement, a manic grin spreading across his face, making him appear almost unhinged—yet, to you, insanely hot? 

His maniacal love brings back memories you repressed. No matter how sick his affliction was, it filled you like nothing else. And now that he’s back, Endo will make sure he never messes that up again.

This is all you wanted, isn’t it? The hunt, the chase, the inevitable claim of the prize. You nod quickly, lips pressed tightly together before they part again, though you can’t stop grinding against him like an animal in heat. "Please, fuck me, take me, I’m all yours, you won, I really, really wanna—" Your pleas are cut off by a high-pitched moan as he thrusts a third finger into you. Your eyes roll back from the intense stimulation, but a sharp spank to your arse drags you back to reality.

"Didn’t say it was enough—go on," Endo urges, his eyes searching your face, desperate for praise. "Can’t think of anything but getting fucked by you tonight. Please, please, please, I need you!" Of course you do. And he needs you just as badly. He knows you so well, knows exactly how to make your sharp tongue forget how to form words, how to make you chant his name like a prayer. The sounds falling from your lips fuel his madness, his eyes frantically searching yours for every scrap of affection you can offer him in this obscene display.

Your back meets the rough bark of a tree as Endo lifts your legs effortlessly, placing them on his shoulders as he kneels before you like a man devoting himself to his goddess. You barely have time to catch your breath before his mouth is on your pussy, his head buried between your thighs as he laps at your folds with fervour. His tongue, hot and insistent, drags along your puffy lips before pushing against your throbbing flesh, circling your clit with maddening precision. His groans vibrate through your body, and you clench your thighs around his head, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging violently at the roots—just the way he loves it. He savours the shivers running down his spine, the tightening in his gut, the aching weight in his trousers.

"Fuck, you’re driving me insane, doll," he moans into your pussy, his teeth grazing your clit until you jerk, too sensitive yet craving more. You could never get enough of him. Why did you even bother breaking up with him?

"‘M so close, can’t take more, Ya-Yamato~" You gasp, but he won’t let you falter now. You can take more—just a little more of his love. The pain you cause by pulling his hair only spurs him on, driving him further into his frenzy. Until you’re trembling against him, your legs shaking around his head under the relentless patterns of his tongue circling your clit. Your increased volume drives Endo to the brink of madness.

"God, bunny, you taste so fucking good," he mutters into your folds, the vibrations of his words adding to the overwhelming pleasure. Your moans are like music to him, a symphony he could listen to endlessly. His fingers slide back into you, curling to reach that perfect, gummy spot inside while he devours your slick like a man starved. He pushes you harder against the tree, his free hand roaming your thighs, tearing your bodysuit further apart for easy access to everything he craves.

This is his reward, his obsession—his twisted love made flesh. And you, trembling and whimpering under his touch, are exactly where you belong.

You’re rutting against his face, pulling him deeper into your pussy, thighs squeezing around him, muffling his groans as your moans echo through the dead forest. Just as the crest of your release approaches, he suddenly pulls away, and your feet land on the ground. His palm meets your puffy cunt with a sharp, stinging slap, pushing you over the edge with a burst of pain. You tumble into his strong chest, fully engulfed in Endo, surrounded and protected by him as you come undone in the palm of his hand.

"Good little thing, playing so well with me tonight," he murmurs, his voice a mix of praise and possessiveness. "You deserve to be fucked until your legs give out, leaving a trail for all the perverts to lick up on your way home." He inhales your scent deeply, arms holding you steady as you teeter on the edge of consciousness. You’re halfway gone, lost in the aftermath of your release, so it’s no surprise you don’t register the sound of his zip being undone.

Endo manoeuvres you like his personal plaything, turning you around with a practised ease. A flat hand between your shoulder blades pushes you forward, but he doesn’t let you fall. He’ll always hold his princess up. His biceps flex as he snakes an arm around your waist, positioning you perfectly to slide his needy cock inside you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, drowning himself in your scent as he thrusts deeply, each push driving you forward in his embrace. Your body jerks with the impact, on the verge of giving out.

"You wanted this," he reminds you, his breath staggered, drawing out each word as he battles his own exhaustion. "You know I’ll make any of your wishes come true, no matter how fucked up." Another harsh thrust nearly drives you into the tree, but Endo pulls you back, refusing to let you drift too far from him. He will always hold you as close as possible. "I’d do anything for you," he rambles, his voice thick with devotion. His brows furrow in concentration as he leans back, his eyes raking over your subdued form.

His hands grip your upper arms, his thighs spreading you open as his hips bounce against the soft flesh of your arse. He’s so close—so fucking close. Mumbled adorations spill from his lips, "My perfect girl," and hushed "I love you"s pouring into your fucked-out mind. He doesn’t mind your muted responses; not when your walls clamp around his cock with every word of praise. His beloved is tired, after all. "Gonna cum inside ya, fuck, I’m so close," he groans, his breath ragged, moans raspy. The heat of his breath and the drops of sweat the only sensations grounding you while he fucks you with growing desperation.

Endo's movements slow down for him to only grind into you once his neediness makes a return. "Let me hear it again, pretty thing, tell me." His voice is a desperate pant, needing your words to anchor him. Perfectly conditioned, you remember what makes him fall apart in the palm of your hand. No matter the bile biting your throat upon the messy memories you hold for him, you give him what he needs. "I-I love you, Yamato, I love you, can you cum for me, please?" you pant, your voice trembling.

His eyes roll back, a near-maniacal grin spreading across his face as his head falls back to gaze at the bright moonlight above. "Don’t have to ask me twice, doll," he promises, and with a final thrust, he finally lets go, freeing himself from the pent-up need that consumed him.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[irishmammonagenda]

Your head hits your pillow. Your heavy eyes close, leaving your world in darkness.

Darkness that for a split second turns into the most fiery terrifying pits of hell before being overwritten.

Darkness that brightens up into a luscious garden, one in which a tanned woman is standing, arms crossed.

Her long inky black hair blows softly in the wind at the same rhythm of her softly fluttering garments. She looks familiar in the way of deja vu.

You feel drawn to her, so you walk closer, close enough to be at arm's length.

She slaps you.

"Ow! What was that for?!" You blink, taking a step back.

"That was for being an idiot." The woman shrugs, her lips are the same shape as Lucifer's when he scowls. You shudder. "I mean honestly," She grabs your shoulders and shakes you. "I thought you were smarter than this."

"Smarter than what?" You get out rather shakily seeing as you're being shaken. She sighs and holds her head in her hands, now leaning against a tree.

"Have I taught you nothing? Has all my guidance been for nothing?"

You pause. "....You're Lilith."

She nods, "And you're quite intellectually challenged by the looks of it."

A crow caws in the distance, probably laughing at that one.

"Mean."

"MC."

You turn your attention back to your ancestor and smile innocently. "Yes?"

Lilith grabs you by the shoulders, and you brace yourself, preparing to be shaken again, but you're not. Instead the most beautiful grey eyes look into yours, eyes that held a storm in them. " I don't care if you have pacts with the Seven Avatars Of Sin. I don't care if you have the Demon Prince and Butler wrapped around your finger. Your never ever ever, fuck with an ouija board."

"I was in the Human Realm with my human friends! We got bored and I missed everyone!"

Lilith deadpans. "You have a DDD."

"....Good point?"

"I'm serious MC. As your great times a thousand billionth grandmother, I forbid you from playing with that board again. Even the Wise Sorcerer doesn't use ouija boards! Mostly because the demons in those boards have a restraining order against him....but still."

"So, you're banning me?"

Lilith smirks, "If I even catch wind or even suspect you're using one again. Especially as stupidly as you used the one with your human friends, I'm going to write a letter detailing your exploits and have the breeze blow it atop of both Lucifer and Barbatos' desks."

Your eyes widen in terror. "Are you...blackmailing me?"

"Yes." She smiles.

"God Dammit."

The world fades into black once more, you see glimpses of horrors beyond your comprehension for a split second once more as you feel yourself be shaken awake.

The Avatar of Sloth looks at you sternly, almost as if he was mimicking Lucifer. Jealousy in his gaze. "Care to tell me why your dreams are infested with demons that aren't me?"

He's already in demon form. Damn.

You blink. Those images that flashed for a second was what was supposed to be your dreams? So Lilith took you out of your dreams? So he couldn't see Lilith?

Belphie blinks, holding eye contact with you as he slinks sneakily into your bed beside you. "So who are those guys? Your new dream buddies?" He scoffs, acting more like his older, more envious brother for a moment.

"...I...." You look away from him. "Don't tell Lucifer....but...when I was in the Human Realm....I might've maybe....messed around with some stuff?"

Belphie stretches intertwining your legs with his, "What stuff." It was hardly a question.

"...Ouija boards?"

"You idiot." He says as his tail smacks you, before wrapping around your waist like a shackle.

"...Don't worry, MC." He says in a softer tone, though the sinister look on his face said otherwise, "...I'll flush those bastards out."

"....Thanks Belphie."

He looks at you through half lidded eyes as he rests his chin on your chest. "If you do something stupid like that again while in the Human Realm, I don't think I'll let you leave next time you come back down here."

Belphie smiles as the both of you fall asleep, the low life demons he originally thought were secret boyfriends (he doesn't think straight when he's jealous) but were actually just stupid enough to latch themselves onto you had actually done him a favour. This would be a great thing to bring up to a certain six brothers he had if you ever tried to leave the Devildom for so long again.

[luckyorchid]

The sun’s up

Comic 1 (PT. 1)

(Lore + Context is below!)

Hoo boy here we go (SPOILERS for anyone who wants to experience sky by themselves!)

Sky lore for Non-players (Feel free to skip, just added this since the story is a bit tied to the lore in game)

Some of the basics:

Core / Flame = Life source.

The ancestors are the original “humanoid” inhabitants of the world. Light creatures (animals) were the first inhabitants though. Sky beings were the last creations to solidify the inhabitants.

Light creatures & Sky beings all have a “core” which means they’re all connected and living off of light as their life source.

Sky beings are essentially just stars that fell on the world and decided to exist LMAO. You can't make one, so you just have to pray really hard for a shooting star.

Realms & Elders:

ignoring the middle one for now, there are 6 realms. Each realm has different climates (But it wasn’t always like that), and settings.

Isle of Dawn - Sandy terrain

Daylight prairie - Hills, grass, oceans and flowers.

Hidden forest - A forest where it rains non-stop

Valley of Triumph - A valley / mountainside that snows non-stop

Golden wasteland - Hell (/j) / Sandy terrain with toxic water.

Vault of Knowledge - Massive tower stored with history and knowledge

In the comic, they’re in “Hidden Forest.” Each realm has an Elder, who is essentially someone who governs the realm. They’re just here to make sure everything is stable.

History (This is all based off of my own observation + Tom Zhao's concept art!):

For that middle realm, it's called "Eye of Eden" and or where the "Storm" originated from. It also has an elder, but he's more or less "King of all kings" sort of thing. He had the say in most things. Eye of Eden never had a clear vision on what it was before the storm, but I'd imagine it would be a sort of sanctuary.

Speaking of before the storm, some realms weren't how they are right now, like how Isle of dawn used to be like Daylight prairie.

Moving on, at first every one was pretty chill, until the king found something called Dark stone. Dark stone is like...the opposite of light? It's like if you shoved a rock into gasoline and something radioactive. Despite it, the elders find out dark stone can be used to make advanced technology, so of course they take the chance to overuse it.

The light creatures and sky beings suffer from the effects of this. While sky beings were taken to areas with less dark stone, light creatures were treated with more hostility. This causes the ancestors and light creatures to go to war with each other.

Long story short; Dark stone corrupted the ancestors and started destroying the environment, because it literally uses light / fire as its power. The creatures said "Nuh-uh" and started fighting back. The final fight (that transpired in Eden) gets so bad that most of the dark stone explodes and creates a massive storm that affects all the realms, and most of the people die including the elders and king 😭

This is where "Dark creatures" start to thrive. These silly little guys are similar to dark stone, they love eating light.

Ratio & Kakavasha Lore

Ratio was born before the storm, while Kakavasha was born when the storm had already happened.

Veritas Ratio Lore:

Ratio was a smart kid, and a lot of people noticed it. That's it/j In fact, a lot of people noticed it, so he was dragged into the Sky version of the intelligentsia guild- in training, of course. He's too young to start running stuff, even if he insists on it.

It got to the point where even the elders acknowledged him, and some wanted him to be their advisor when he reached the right age. Veritas is (internally) ecstatic about this. He still holds the ideals of OG ratio, universal knowledge, and as an advisor he can further be of influence for good.

He was never close to his peers, in fact they couldn't count on their fingers just how many times he's called them idiots and other remarks, but he'd never go as far as to say he hated them. Fond? Maybe, just a teensy bit. A silent room is nice, but after a prolonged period, he may seek out that background noise of chatter. (Or not)

(Ref used: S1 arcane poster) Then the storm came. The storm pretty much threw all of his dreams to the abyss, and not only that- he had to witness the things he loved and cared for either die or go into shambles. He's one of the few survivors, but he's harboring a lot of guilt and contempt towards most things. (aka everything. He always thinks of "Why's" Why did the elders let it get this far? Why were the ancestors so selfish? Why couldn't he do anything to stop his friends from being eaten by those dark creatures?)

He stays with other survivors in safe realms (Daylight prairie), and he tries his best to be of help. Specifically: hunting. (Haha get it cause the hunt *cough*) He likes to join in hunting squads to kill dark creatures in the Hidden Forest, and if he can; study the body. It's morbid, but he wants to find ways to mitigate attacks.

Kakavasha Lore

The Avgin clan are all semi-dark creatures. Their landing spot is always within an area full of dark stone, so it's like their core merges with it. They can all turn into "Krills" (Sky version of dragon). Despite this, most of them have a kind nature and wouldn't go out of their way to hurt Sky beings. They settle on eating fruits, birds, and fish.

They live in Wasteland, which is littered with dark creatures. Despite sharing the same origins, even they have to be careful. Hungry creatures aren't picky after all.

But due to their advantage, they can usually freely travel through the Valley and Hidden Forest to scavenge for food and other materials.

Kakavasha loves to join his sister for scavenging, and he loves finding out about things in general, so much so his sister always has to look behind her shoulder to make sure he isn't doing anything risky. "High risk, high reward!" He still can't turn into a krill, but he can make his hands sharp! Other than that, he's pretty happy. The storm hasn't affected them much- in fact, it's an advantage. Though, he always wonders what's beyond the forest, snow and sands.

Post-storm Kakavasha happens when the storm starts to calm down and the sky beings start to regain their footing. This is how his clan gets found out and gets hunted down, until he and a few were the only survivors. He's used as a test subject to better understand dark creatures, but of course there was no consideration of his well-being. As long as he isn't dead. Similar to the OG hsr lore, he ended up killing the people who 'owned' him. But this time, he was freed with pardon because damn look at all that trauma. In this AU he's free to do whatever without someone shackling him down, but it doesn't make him feel any better to what happened to his clan and himself. He feels a bit of spite towards Sky beings, but he doesn't outright act on it...much.

This ended up having more lore than it's supposed to have 😭 I'll make a continuation comic of their first meeting, and some other random shenanigans these two end up getting into LMAO. Thanks for reading and have a good day <33

[isaidyoulookshitty]

idk it is so upsetting to me that veilguard is the first dragon age game i won't be replaying. when i was 15 i played origins so many times (almost a dozen) it is one of the only games i have ever 100% finished. da2 was the same! and while i didn't make it through as many playthroughs of inquisition i put hundreds of hours into it and made an effort to get to the bottom of everything the game threw at me. until veilguard, i had bought every available dragon age dlc for all games, tried to play almost every route given in the story choices, and spent hours reading through codex entries to soak up as much lore as i could.

veilguard has rendered all of that completely null.

it feels almost spiteful at this point that this new frakenspliced bioware cared so little to honor the bones and meat of the first three games. 15 years i have spent loving and cherishing (and criticizing) this franchise and now i feel like a fucking idiot for it. my grey warden? canonically awol and never addressed again. hawke? irrelevant and, for some players, potentially stuck in the fade forever. inquisitor? stripped of any complexity or depth i had given her in favor of the most syrupy, out of character fairytale true love's kiss ending with a man that shattered her worldview and broke her heart. how do you take 10 years to craft an ending this dissatisfying and thoughtless?

and the world i spent a decade and a half fighting for, shaping with player choices, and calling home? gone. "overwhelmed by the blight." literally scorched earth for the next game to build on with whatever the writers pull out of their ass to make players forget all about the original dragon age. it's tragic! disrespectful to longtime fans at best, at worst it feels intentional and like i am being made the butt of a joke told by writers who in the promotional material sound like they could not even be assed to play the games they're attempting to draw from. veilguard is just a product to be sold, not a story worthy of The Dragon Age Setting.

and i haven't even touched on all my gripes with the game's writing, the sanitization of any canon conflict that could be uncomfortable or difficult to address, the stale and cutesy therapyspeak and lessons in basic morality that are baked into every in-game interaction (most of which are shallow and all the same anyways) compared to the dialogue trees from the other 3 games. it is so frustrating to see that the devs chose to cave to a decade of vitriolic fandom politics in favor of addressing the kettle they wrote themselves into.

instead of hand-waving racism toward elves, the panic over qunari, the isolation of the dwarves, the corruption of the chantry, the abuse in the circles of magi, and slavery in tevinter, we should have been given the chance to confront all of it. to put a real end to it. we will never get to do that now. in fact, in their failure to follow through, bioware has only succeeded in exacerbating all of these issues. they have made the elves, which they have openly ADMITTED were "inspired" by Jewish and indigenous peoples, their mouthpiece for white guilt and shame passed down from one's ancestors (while also gutting elves' religion, culture, history, social differences, etc. i could go on). they PERPETUATE the same stereotypes of barbarity, violence, and warmongering imposed on the qunari by the rest of thedas by continuing to make them an opposing enemy force with the exception being a couple of friends they have neatly packaged for us. the unsatisfying conclusion to the mage-templar schism in inquisition is inconsequential. who the player chose to HEAD THE SOUTHERN CHANTRY as divine is deliberately made irrelevant. the dwarves are still isolated and ignorant of their origins save for harding (assuming she doesn't end up killed) and a single closed-off group. and the slaves in tevinter (again, mostly elves)? conveniently kept out of sight and conversation when we finally get to minrathous. everything that happened to fenris to make him the character he is, arguably the most impactful and sympathetic out of all the da2 companions, is not even addressed, much less tackled. all of it is swept under the rug.

i wanted dragon age: dreadwolf. i wanted a solid conclusion to a story almost 20 years in the making. a dragon age reboot might even have been a great idea somewhere down the line, but this was not the game to do it with. it was supposed to be a sequel and they couldn't even get that right. did i enjoy parts of it? of course! i finished it! but i won't be doing it again. the game clearly intends you to, considering a significant portion is locked away by decisions players are forced to make pretty early on, but i can't make myself do it. it makes me way too sad.

i could go on about how i, a queer and nonbinary adult fan, thought their handling of gender and LGBTQIA+ identities was heavy-handed, infantilizing, and felt so out of place within the setting it makes easy fodder for the "woke=broke" crowd that wouldn't have been receptive to queer rep anyway, but that would need to be another post in itself. not to mention the romance! unfortunate that i chose to romance lucanis not knowing his is now notorious for a lack of content, meaningful dialogue, pacing, and actual development. i won't even get to see the other romances in comparison because, as i have said, i will not be replaying.

[lovelyo]

Season 3 part 2 will be Ass. Let me Tell You Why.

Cause in the end, Penelope, Lady Whistledown, the one who has left devastation in people’s lives will get all what she wants. The man that she wants, the attention that she wants, the family she always wanted to be(so envious of them she talked shit about them ), will get her best friend back, might have the heir for that dumbass Featherington plot line, might get the Queen’s pardon and above all else, will most likely not give up LW cause they made LW such an integral part of the show.(so in that case, she’ll be even more filthy rich)

And if we go by leaked spoilers, it is said that Colin will be mad at Penelope for like 1 episode until Kanthony talks some “sense” into him. So that just tells me Kanthony will be OOC because there’s no damn way Anthony would let that beast comment about his wife slide.

There are no stakes when it comes to this season cause we all know how it’s finna go down. If Penelope gets any type of consequences, then her very undeserved HEA is doomed so everything is going to have to go her way for the already idiotic plot to make some form of sense. It’s like the love triangle in part 1, what the hell was the point of Lord Debling when everyone and their ancestors knew Colin and Penelope were end game? So we can see Colin’s cringe angst? If we already know the answer to the love triangle, there’s no point. The “find you a husband” plot line was stupid as shit anyway, but it’s whatever now.

Ugh, then we have to sit through more awkward love scenes between asshat 1 and 2

Eloise threatening Penelope with her LW identity is going to amount to nothing cause we know Penelope isn’t gonna receive any comeuppance. Matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they made Eloise apologize to Penelope for…🤷🏾‍♂️🤷(let’s apologize to the toxic friend for not dealing with their toxicity)

For Penelope to have a happy ending, she has to get away scot free and that’s what boils my blood. I hate in media and literature when a character goes around, creates chaos and receives nothing for it or just a slap on a wrist. I’ve noticed an increase in it lately too. Also, I’m tired of writers not severing their bias from their writing. I’ve been encountering many series lately where the writer(s) have favoritism towards a specific character and gives them the easy route, bends the world for them and pull punches just because they like them so much. It’s really aggravating cause you see everyone else getting put through the wringer and then you see the favored character walking through Candyland. It hurts the story, the character, and frankly makes you hate the character.

Everyone around Penelope is gonna act brain dead in order for Penelope to get what she wants and I’m not here for it. Even the general audience ain’t for it. The only people cheering this madness are the asylum patients called Polin fans with delusions that Penelope deserves the world.

I’m not even looking forward to Francesca and John’s story cause of the Poolin fecal matter I’ll have to swim through to get there. At this point, I’m might just watch spoilers of part 2 cause it’s not worth it.

P.S. Watch Cressida get the short end of the stick cause she’s the “bully” of the show and Penelope is the “victim”. Watch them break Creloise because of the “I don’t want you hanging around Eloise” subplot which will ultimately fuel Eloise and Penelope becoming friends again. Also, Penelope and Cressida competed for Lord Debling just for Penelope to go “sike” and marry Colin so she wasted Debling’s time and made Cressida feel like shit because she wasn’t chosen. P.S.S- Polins are huge ass hypocrites cause they ragged on Eloise being privileged and having “everything” but are silent about Penelope being privileged. By the end of this season, Penelope will basically have everything, even more so than Eloise, but sure, Penelope is definitely not privileged 😑. Penelope is privileged inside the world and outside by production, why are we denying this?

[askthesecondgenerationavengers]

“What am I doing wrong? Are you punishing my people because I don’t believe in you? Or do you really not exist? Hm?! Where were you when my father died? I am cut off from my ancestors! I made me I got us here!” Shuri shouted at the sky. Tears streaming down her face.

“Am I just to sit by while my people suffer? What would you have me do? Prove yourself!”

@did-he-freeze

There's a light in the sky, then an impact on the ground next to her, then someone grabs Shuri's arm and starts dragging her back towards the battlefield. "No time to explain, child, that idiot read the prophecy wrong!" A very tall, dark skinned woman with dreads of pitch black and neon rainbow says as she runs with Shuri. "I told that idiot fish god to use a different verb when he wrote it for his group of chosen mortals!" She grumbles, transforming into a large panther as black as the night sky

[metalotaku-da]

So many cross overs so narrow of common hero choices. Let's expand a little.

"Rip what the hell is that?"

"It appears sir, to be a small human child. Around the developmental stage of 4-5"

"Even you know better than to cuss infront of kids.

"I was gone for five minutes."

"Actually I snapped you back to a minute after you left."

"Are You misser booser gol?"

"Yeah kid that's me. You a fan or something who got into something you shouldn't to find me?"

"No. Clockie said tis for you." Hands a sticky note to booster.

Note reads: this is Danny. You will care for him from now on. See this as payment for resetting your time line safely. If you even try pass him off to Bruce wayne/batman, I will ensure your entire familial line never touched time traversing. And you stayed forever trapped in the 31st century. -clockwork master ancient of all time. P.s. there is not conning your way out of this. I will hunt down every ancestor or decendant for all time.

"This looks very serious sir. Congratulations sir you are a father Now"

"Wow kid. Clockie must hate you. I'm so sorry."

"I'm not that bad of an option. Obviously I was judged better that batsy."

"Clockie ass hero I want to say wiff."

"OH kiddo and you asked for the greatest hero boostergold?"

"I wike space. He say geen lanern is space. He take care of me."

"I'm so sorry sir, you have already disappointed your new child. Should I take a commemorative photo of this milestone moment for you?"

"No" "yes skeets"

Camera flashes.

"I shall add this photo to a new album labeled baby book. It is labeled Danny's first disappointment, sir."

"Thank you skeets." X2 one sarcastic one pleased.

"I wan geen lanern."

"Think you're gonna need help anyway Micheal. Call one of them. Not guy."

"I would never co-parent with guy. What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"Rip takes you as the utmost idiot sir. As does most of the justice league sir."

"Thanks skeets."

"You are most welcome sir."

"Can I pay wif the talking space ship?"

"Sure kid." Pushes skeets into the kids hands.

"I do not believe I am rated for physical interaction by children under 10 sir."

"To bad skeets." Picks up Danny who looks up at him instead of at skeets to smile all teeth. "Holy shit are those fangs? We are going to go see my friend Ted now. He will know what to do."

"He will atleast know not to cuss infront of kids. Don't know about the rest."

"Is ted geen lanern?"

Cue shenanigans. They were roommates, but adopted a child.

"Does Batman know you stole a child from him?" <- Jaime when he visits.

"Do not even joke like that. My existence is at stake."

"Batsy is the new beetle juice. In this house."

"Are You geen lanern?"

"Sorry kid I am blue beetle."

"Should I take a picture for Danny's third disappointment since becoming your child sir?"

"No skeets."

"3rd? How long you had him?"

"A week"

"Ouch. Hey kiddo why do you want to meet green lantern? Aren't these guys just as cool?"

"Considering the average human body temperature is 98.6 degrees I do not believe they qualify as cool sir." Jaime is picking up danny to hold on his hip.

"Clockie says geen lanern is space." Danny smiles.

"Are those fangs? Is this a meta kid? You like space? My scarab is from space. Isn't that just as... Oh My, no scarab!" Scarab starts to go into protect host mode while screaming danger desteoy threat in Jaime head just as Danny's eyes start to glow green at the statement and his mouth splits inhumanly wide with even more teeth. Ted and Michael scramble to grab Danny and move him away from Jaime till he gets control of the scarab again. But Danny has a death grip and won't let go of his new friend.

"I do believe sir that your new child qualifies as a meta. Should I take a picture to commemorate your child's first power demonstration sir?"

[fallen-gravity]

just got home from seeing moana 2! I thought it was really good, though not even remotely comparable to the first movie.

Moana and Maui you will always be my beloveds, I'm happier than anyone can imagine that they kept their dynamic platonic even though they could've gone in a different direction if they wanted to.

some pretty big spoilers under the readmore, just want to scream somewhere lol

y'all Maui still being the incredibly sarcastic and stoic "i'm great nothing bothers me ever" but crumbling to pieces every time something involved Moana absolutely destroyed my soul, I was screaming my head off in an empty theater at I could pull up millions of islands but if you're not there to land on them...

and god. god. GOD. Maui getting struck down by Nalo and losing his tattoos and hook and his first instinct being to dive into the water to rescue Moana? holy shit. The symbolism? Maui, being tossed into the sea with nothing, just as his mother did to him, diving right back in to save Moana, the person he gives sole cerdit to for the reason he feels like himself again. He has nothing, but it doesn't even mattter.

When Moana was dying in his arms and her ancestors showed up to answer the call of Maui's song there was a brief moment where I thought they were going to take her away and she'd be standing in front of him as a ghost and that I was gonna have to prepare myself for that goodbye

but AUGHHHHHH, her ancestors and her grandmother being the ones to decide that she earned demi-godhood rather than one of the gods themselves took me the fuck out. I'm a mess, don't look at me, if Maui is the demigod of the wind and sea that must make her the demigodddess of bringing others together. i'm unwell. i'm sick to my stomach. I can't believe all of those fics we wrote as overdramatic aus back in 2018 were right. I was screaming my head off. [old friend i'm not gonna tag], your fic in particular came to mind. i hope you're still out there. I hope you see the similarities too. holy shit. i'm gonna throw up.

CAN I GET A CHEE-HOO, ough, welcome back warrior face, i'm so happy they were able to rework and rewrite that song into the sequel, I love moana and maui's dynamic so fucking much and I feel like this song is a great representation of that!!! they're each other's biggest hypemen fr. no moping around!!! hero time!!!! you're the best!!! you're the greatest!!!

and all those instances at the start of the movie where they kept thinking they were seeing each other and went to try and hug empty air. god. maui you gd idiot, you're lucky you went back to Motunui with everyone at the end of the movie or i would've strangled you.

good shit!!! I'm probably gonna end up seeing it at least one more time in theaters before it's inevitably pushed to D+. I get and agree that it won't ever live up to the first one, but as someone who lived around the fandom for ages and read dozens upon dozens of fics that this reminded me of, I had a great time <3 <3

[siriusblack-the-third]

Lets talk about Walburga

Specifically, lets talk about her thoughts on blood purity, her sons, the Blood War, and Voldemort.

A few canon points to keep in mind before we go forward with this little thing:

Walburga is a year older than Tom Riddle

The only Black sister in school when Sirius attended Hogwarts was Narcissa, who is four years older than him.

Nymphadora Tonks is 13 or 14 years younger than Sirius. We're not given her exact date of birth but she was born in 1973 while Sirius was born on 3rd November, 1959.

(everything underneath is a mix of canon and headcanon)

Walburga was a member of the House of Black, a House that was akin to magical Royalty, almost. Their magical lineage could be traced back several centuries, and their money was older still. She was born into wealth, and she married into wealth.

Blood purity, for her, was absolute. You were either a pureblood, or you were not. It did not matter to her if all your grandparents or great grandparents had magic; if you had non-magical ancestors, you were not pureblood. The Blacks were as pure of blood as it could get. She would live with the fact that they had to rub elbows with people of blood that was not pure, of course, because that was how the world worked, and she knew nothing could be done about it. It something existed, then it was most probably meant to exist, she thought, and that was it for her. She thought those of "dirty" blood to be beneath her, but she did not begrudge them their existence. Let them live their pathetic lives, she thought, and I will live my life.

She was for the most part, a live and let live sort of person.

That is, until the appearance of the new upstart fancying himself as the new Dark Lord, who promised to make the magical world pure and unsullied by muggle influence once again. He promised supremacy to those of ancient heritage, promised them wealth and riches and importance.

Walburga was not an idiot. Far from it. She was a Black, in everything that she did. Blacks had wealth, and riches, and importance. Besides, she recognised an old school mate no matter how many changes their face had gone through, and when she saw his face for the first time, she only thought one thing: dirty blood.

Thomas Marvolo bloody Riddle.

She knew him, of course. He had been two years her junior in Hogwarts— scrawny eleven year old Tom who surprised everyone when he sorted Slytherin, because nobody knew his ancestry and he definitely did not look like a pureblood. Back then, Walburga had been sure to mention in earshot of a few gossipy housemates that even the Weasleys did not look pure of blood, and yet they had one of the cleanest pedigrees of Britain.

That had protected Thomas for a while— exactly long enough for Walburga to do a little digging, and she had scoffed at what had been found.

Slytherin. Thomas was a direct descendant of Slytherin.

That did not mean much, sadly.

His mother had been a squib, his uncle a murderer, and his father a filthy muggle. Thomas was from an old family, yes, but he was not pureblood.

And so, when Thomas Riddle came knocking in 1971, calling himself Voldemort, asking her to join his foolish cause of exterminating mudbloods, demanding that she bow down to him... she laughed in his face.

She bowed to no one. She was Walburga Black, wife of Orion Black, of the purest line in all of Europe. How dare this upstart demand anything of her, let alone demand that she bow to him? Ridiculous. She laughed in his face, and told him to take his illogical, irrational war somewhere else.

"You, Thomas? You will wage a war on Mudbloods?" She asked him, a small smile curving over her dark red lips and amusement dripping from every pronounced syllable, and Voldemort bristled with rage. "Will it end with you committing suicide, then, seeing as your blood is as dirty as it can possibly get?"

That night ended in a legendary duel— Voldemort escaped Grimmauld Place with several injuries and the threat of annihilation if he ever set foot in Walburga's house again.

And then Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor.

It was a shock to her heart— her boy, her firstborn, the scion of the House of Black. He was fraternizing with mudbloods and inferior beings, and Walburga did not like it one bit. At least that Potter boy was a fine choice for a friend; his parents were pure of blood and upheld traditions, coming from the Peverell line. A fine choice, if not the first that Walburga would have made.

And then he started toeing the line. Sirius lashed out, yelled at her, ignored her, scowled at her and Orion. And yet, she loved him. She also hated him. He was so much like her and Orion— headstrong, stubborn, brilliant, arrogant, intelligent. Powerful, as a Black should be. He was the perfect Black. The perfect heir.

What a shame, thta he did not listen to her, that he did not take her advice. No matter, she would ensure his obedience.

As for Regulus, well... He was enamoured with this Lord Voldemort.

Walburga did not approve. She did not approve at all. The man was insane, he did not have pure blood, and he certainly was idiotic if he though the world would be a utopia if the lesser people did not exist. Extermination was a foolish quest, even stupider when undertaken by someone of such inferior blood, and she loathed that Regulus would willingly bow to anyone.

Regulus was her son. A son of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. How dare he bow to someone? How dare he forsake his family name in favour of kneeling at someone's feet and kissing the hem of some mudblood monster's robes? How dare he disgrace the name of the House of Black so, submitting to inferior beings?

Walburga did not care that Bellatrix had done the same. Bellatrix was married. She was a member of the Lestrange family now, she could do whatever the bloody hell she wanted. She disapproved of Bella's choice, of course. She disapproved greatly. This.. this Death Eater business was as foul as that idiot Andromeda running off with that mudblood and bearing his child. Narcissa, despite her good sense to not bow to Voldemort, was still hopelessly in love with that peacock Lucius who was most definitely a Death Eater. Walburga disapproved. And yet, she was not either of their's mother, and she did not give a hippogriff's tit what any of those silly girls did.

Regulus, however, was a son of the main line. He should not be dreaming of bowing to anyone. Weak, foolish child, fantasising about kissing the hem of the robes of Thomas bloody Riddle. How dare he dishonour the dignity of the House of Black? How dare he insult their Noble name? Foolish, idiot, weak child.

She was sure the Mudblood upstart was laughing at her, wherever he was. He took her child.

And then Sirius ran away.

She did not like admitting that it was her fault, in part. She knew better than anyone how difficult it was to change a Black's mind once an opinion had been solidified. She was a Black, she knew how stubborn they could be. And yet, she pushed and pushed and pushed, and Sirius snapped. She should have taken a more delicate approach. But she had been foolish, and then she dealt with the consequences by blasting her darling son's name off the Tree, screams falling from her lips and tears from her eyes.

Regulus took the Dark Mark.

Walburga stopped speaking with him.

She did not speak to him until his death, which she was informed about by Kreacher. Kreacher, who was forbidden from giving her, or anyone else, the full details.

Two months later, Death came to collect Orion as well.

It was not long after that Walburga succumbed to madness. There was only so much loss one could take, and she had taken more than anyone. Her sons, her husband, everything... gone.

Was it any surprise, that she went mad in the last years of her life?

.

Tags (I hope you don't mind): @plecotusauritus @in-flvx @strwbi-laces @roalinda @mycupofrum

[danaewrites]

you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)

part ii: i wanna hear you speak to me

james potter x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.6k

summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”

tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader

author's notes: new year, new chapter! i started writing this one back in SEPTEMBER and finally had enough time away from the terrors of calculus homework to finish it. thanks for reading my story so far and i hope you enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent chapter, because i had way too much fun writing it!! i promise that the angst in this chapter *will* be resolved, but it was too deliciously tempting to resist sprinkling a wee bit of hurt/comfort and dramatics in there as well. sorry not sorry!

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)

“I’ve got no bloody clue how Dumbledore can be so energetic all the time,” you groaned, head in your hands as you peeked out at the headmaster’s more-than-slightly manic grin from your seat at the Gryffindor breakfast table. You were far too sleep-deprived to process his latest choice of garish attire: a bright chartreuse robe covered in plaid polka dots, topped off with what appeared to be rhinestones and tinsel attached to his beard.

Perhaps if Kettleburn hadn’t assigned you three feet of parchment on the seventeen glorious properties of dragon dung yesterday and expected it done by this afternoon, you might have appreciated the headmaster’s creative fashion choices– oh, who were you kidding. There really was no understanding that wizard, even properly rested. James and Peter had made a bet during fifth year on how long it’d take Dumbledore to crack under a constant deluge of pranks in his office, but they’d quickly realized that the man was too far gone to do anything but take inspiration for school events– an idea that was quite frankly, comically frightening, and the sort of thing you weren’t keen on pondering on a normal Tuesday morning.

Sirius wrinkled his nose sympathetically and slid the pile of raspberry jam tarts closer to you. “Late night in the library again?”

You nodded sheepishly, gratefully taking a pastry from the pile. “I honestly don’t know why Pince allows me to stay past curfew. Marauder’s luck, I guess?” Your attention was diverted by the sound of hoots and flapping wings as the morning owl brigade arrived, apparently choosing a kamikaze dive-bomb approach to deliver this morning’s newspapers. Ah, the joys of living at the world’s most advanced magical school.

Sirius, ever the epitome of grace, slipped under the table as a rogue owl zipped past, popping himself back up just enough to throw you finger guns. “Exactly right, doll, exactly right,” he grinned. “Trust me, Marauder’s luck gets you everywhere. And I mean everywhere,” he winked, sending you a lecherous smirk.

“Ew, Sirius, I don’t even want to know,” you sniffed. “I’ve learned my lesson after the mental trauma your tales of Dorcas’ birthday adventures inflicted upon my psyche. Please, spare me the details.”

“What? All I meant was Slughorn’s Christmas Party, of course!” He batted his eyelashes angelically, still partially covered by the tablecloth.

Your mouth gaped open in shock. “Last year’s Christmas party? Sirius Orion Black, I refuse to hear another word! What on earth would your ancestors think, with you bragging about such exploits-”

He leaned over, eyes wide with laughter. “No, I meant the one Slughorn is throwing on the 21st, it’s exclusively for us lucky seventh years this time. Although, you bring up some very fond memories… okay, okay, I’ll stop, don’t kick me–”

“What are we kicking Sirius for?” James slid onto the bench across from you, eyeing a groveling Sirius with interest. Peter joined him, but wisely chose to stay away from the ruckus, piling his plate high with the bacon the owls had spared. Remus was noticeably absent, spending the morning resting in the infirmary after a rough night of shifting– which you assumed was much more peaceful than the current chaos at the Gryffindor breakfast table.

“Oh! Good morning, Jamie,” you beamed up at him, passing him the plate of desserts you’d been protecting from Sirius’ nefarious advances. “Morning, dove,” he greeted you, and then paused. “Ha, get it? Morning dove?” He puffed up his chest smugly and nudged Sirius with his elbow in a futile effort to make him laugh. You huffed fondly at his antics. Boys.

Sirius rolled his eyes and took advantage of your momentary distraction, retreating back onto his seat to nurse his wounds– to your ever-growing delight (and Sirius’ woe), you had recently discovered that the Hogwarts girls’ uniform shoes were quite sharp. “At this point we should call you Lames. ‘Cause your puns are lame,” he muttered.

You shooed him away with a brush of your hand, remembering what Sirius had mentioned earlier. “According to Sirius, Slughorn’s hosting a Christmas Party again this year. Let’s pray it won’t be like the last one.” You muttered. James and Peter both looked vaguely ill at the prospect, shuddering in unison. “My tie will never look the same again,” Peter griped, but suddenly sat up straight in his seat. “Hey, wait, we’re finally old enough to bring dates to this one! Without sneaking them in, I mean.” 

Sirius snickered and lightly punched his shoulder. “Why, Petey, got some lucky girl in mind?” Peter reddened and glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where a certain freckled blonde was chatting with her friends– a move that didn’t go unnoticed by James, who gave a delighted wolf-whistle. “You got a thing for Lucy Abbott, huh? Might want to make a move before Smith does,” he grinned, gesturing to the tall brunette boy who’d just arrived and sharing a knowing smirk with you. You giggled at Peter’s increasingly pouty expression; he’d figure out sooner or later that Smith was definitely not interested in Abbott– or witches in general– but it was entertaining to see him out of his comfort zone. Peter had always been the quietest of your little group, and you privately thought that a bit of momentary romantic angst might spur him to be more assertive. An ironic opinion, considering how your own love life revolved around the fact that your best friend had feelings for someone else… and you couldn’t do anything about it except mope.

Peter scowled. “Easy for you to say, Prongs, you’ve finally got precious Lily-flower wrapped around your finger. I bet you’ve already asked her!”

There it was: another reminder that James wasn’t yours, and never would be. You watched as the Gryffindor boys good-naturedly jostled his shoulder and tousled his curls. James grinned sheepishly, shrugging off their teasing. “Not yet,” he admitted, glancing hopefully at the end of the table, where Lily was chatting with her friends. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, we all know she’ll say yes this year.” Sirius winced, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Peter glanced at Sirius, drawn by the movement. “What’ve you got to worry about? Half the population would kill Dumbledore to get one dance with you. The only person who’s got to worry about a date is me– well, and maybe Y/n, I guess.” His face suddenly turned contemplative, looking you up and down. “Are you going with someone?” 

Sirius’ grimace became doubly pronounced at Peter’s tactlessness, and you felt your face heating up. Peter had a way of accidentally hitting on the issues others tried to hide. It wasn’t his fault he’d never heard about your trips to Hogsmeade with a paramour– in fact, none of the boys had. Because there hadn’t been any. You’d spent your entire time at Hogwarts pining after James, and as a result had missed the romantic milestones your classmates had already blissfully bragged about. 

Peter looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response, and you opened your mouth to confess your lack of experience when you spotted a familiar redhead walking gracefully towards your side of the table– to James, you realized with a start. Something within you ignited as you watched her glow with confidence, carefree and lovely as ever. Lily would never pine after someone uselessly; she knew she could get anyone she wanted with the right amount of banter and flirty gestures. You... Well, you weren’t there quite yet, but maybe it was time to take inspiration from the Muggle saying and ‘fake it til you make it’. And before you could think about what you were about to do, you turned to Peter and smiled coyly. “I might.”

James’ and Sirius’ heads snapped up immediately from their perusal of the breakfast lineup as they let out an identical murmur of surprise. “What?” James furrowed his brow, looking you up and down– seemingly trying to discern whether you had taken a holiday from your senses, most likely via Bludger-induced concussion at the last Quidditch match. Sirius merely raised a questioning eyebrow at you. You groaned internally, knowing that you’d have to explain yourself later… although, if your half-baked idea worked, you’d be spending a lot more time with him anyway. For now, you beamed innocently at both of them and took a sip of your pumpkin juice. Apparently, the Sorting Hat had placed you in Gryffindor for a reason- you were either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish to commit to this plan, but with Evans quickly approaching, you saw no other choice.

Peter looked momentarily shocked, then glumly began to assemble an egg and bacon sandwich seasoned with the occasional mutterance of “unfair” and “perpetually single, my arse”.

James’ eyes were still trained on you. “Who is it?” he asked, searching your face again as if he was looking for some indication that you were joking. You shrugged, trying to look casual. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

“Dove-” he began, but Lily finally reached his seat and placed one stupidly perfect hand on his shoulder, diverting his attention momentarily. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you to her office for Quidditch scheduling.” James blinked, glancing up at her and then at the rest of the table. He stood up and focused on you again, expression clouded. “I’ll see you in Potions, yeah?”

Sirius stood up quickly, ushering him out of his seat with a speed you’d only seen him use to gulp down cheap Firewhiskey. He gave you a significant look. “Actually, Y/n and I were just about to take a walk, isn’t that right? So we'll both see you in Potions, what a sublime coincidence, now don’t be late for your meeting–” he chattered on as he shoved James toward the doors of the Great Hall, the latter eyeing him suspiciously but moving nonetheless. Sirius turned to you and pointed to the courtyard entryway. “You. Me. Talk, as in right now.”

Once you were sure that you’d made it out of earshot of Peter and the rest of the Gryffindor table, you wheeled around to face him. “Okay. First of all… I didn’t plan that.” Sirius raised an eyebrow again. “Second of all, I need a favour,” you pleaded, staring up at him with the most adorable doe eyes you could physically summon. They were usually most effective on James, for some reason, but you were sure that Sirius wasn’t immune to your manipulation either. He groaned, resting his face in his hands. “How do you even have a date? Last time I checked, also known as yesterday, you were still head over heels for Prongsie, doll. So do I need to check you for Amortentia or somethi–” He peered out from between his fingers with annoyed realization. “You don’t have a date, do you.” 

You blinked innocently up at him. He let out a long-suffering sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “This is what you need the favour for? You want me to go with you to Slughorn’s party so you can pretend in front of the rest of Hogwarts that you’re not madly in love with Jamie?” 

You grinned confidently up at him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Aw, Siri, you know me so well. It’s almost as if you were maaaade to be my date for the party...” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him one more time for good measure, trying to hide a smirk. “Alright, alright, stop with the Bambi act, I’ll take you.” He scowled good-naturedly. “You know, this is going to ruin my dating pool for the next month.” 

You scoffed. “As if! If anything, you’ll just have more people fawning over you– temptation of the forbidden apple and all, you know.” 

Sirius brightened up considerably at this revelation. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the beginning, doll! I vote that we match in purple velvet, it does wonders for my complexion–”

You gave a very unladylike snort at the thought of you and Sirius swanning into the party in some sort of horrendous plum-coloured disco getup, and shooed him away towards the Potions classroom. That was an eyesore to imagine sometime when you weren’t about to get a headache from the dim dungeon lighting.

Slughorn greeted you and Sirius by directing you to the front of the classroom with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oho, a pair of latecomers, I see!” He winked at you and Sirius in exaggerated motion. You winced as Snape jeered and nudged Malfoy, who was busy enjoying Flint’s crude gestures at you. Ugh, Slytherin boys. The worst of the lot. Their snickers were quickly stopped by James chucking a handful of powdered wormwood at their heads when Slughorn turned away, making Malfoy’s prized hair appear covered in soot. You shot him a grateful smile. 

“Since you two missed my initial remarks, let’s see if you can make it up by identifying today’s potion, hmm?” Slughorn gestured dramatically to a shimmering green brew in a cauldron next to his desk, cherry-coloured smoke curling off of the top invitingly. 

Sirius shot you a panicked look, clearly not expecting to be put in the academic spotlight, but you shook your head and stepped closer. You smelled something rich and incense-like, which meant that Bumburrel leaves were a key ingredient. And combined with the way the smoke was drifting lazily around your wrists, curling higher and higher… “Brew of Mandelian, sir. Used for sharpened acuity under times of pressure.”

Slughorn gave a delighted chuckle and clapped his hands. “Well then! Ten points to Gryffindor for paying attention in lectures!” He dismissed you and Sirius with a wave, moving on to explain the finer points of ingredient preparation to a very bemused George Goyle as you slipped into your usual seat beside James.

You worked in quiet harmony for a moment, methodically slicing and crushing the slippery beetles needed to give the brew its signature green colour while James handed you the insects. He broke the silence after six beetles (not that you had been counting or anything) with an awkward, “So… you have a, erm, date?”

You huffed, motioning for him to hand you the foul-smelling Moorish tubers next. “Honestly, James, is it that surprising?” He scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “Well, I– yeah, I guess.” he trailed off, seeing your expression. 

“The tubers, Jamie, thank you. I mean, you looked at me like I was a ghost back in the Great Hall!” You were decidedly not making eye contact with him, trying your best to focus on the slimy plants in front of you and not the fact that your best friend-slash-unrequited crush doubted your romantic potential. What a way to be humbled– and while covered in tuber juice, no less!

He huffed, running a hand through his already messy curls. “Come on, Y/n, it’s not like that. What did Sirius want to talk about in the Great Hall, anyway? You two looked… chummy.” 

You glared down at the copper slicing board. “Well, it’s none of your business how chummy we are, is it? I don’t interrogate you every time you converse with Peter. In fact, it’s rather expected that Sirius and I speak to one another on occasion, considering the amount of time we all spend together thanks to you.”

You moved to grab another tuber from the jar, but James reached out and grabbed your hand, forcing you to look at him. His hazel eyes were alight with frustration, a look you knew by heart thanks to the hours you’d spent tutoring him in History of Magic after he napped his way through the entire first semester. “Are you serious? You’re actually going with someone?”

“Please, Jamie, do enlighten me on whyever you think I couldn’t possibly get a date with my numerous and diverse charms,” you sniffed, hoping to Merlin that he would just leave the entire subject alone. 

“No, it’s–” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “The other boys, they don’t know how– you’re so, I mean, just look at you!” he exclaimed, gesturing at you. He stopped, frowning to himself, looking more confused than before. He glanced over at Lily, expression becoming even more muddled, brow furrowed and hard to read to anyone but you. 

Your mouth parted in shock, and to your dismay you felt tears bubbling up again. You blinked fiercely, refusing to let him see you cry. James thought the issue was… your looks? You suddenly wanted to crawl under Slughorn’s desk and never come out again, except perhaps to find a shovel to dig your grave with. This was far, far worse than watching him transfigure chocolates for Lily every Valentine’s Day. Now you knew for a fact he didn’t find you attractive– thought other boys didn’t either, even! And the way he’d clearly mentally compared you to Lily after what he’d admitted… well. There was no recovering from that. Teenage boys could be dense, but Merlin, how you had wanted him to at least let you down gently. 

You wished you’d never opened your mouth to lie about having a stupid date in the first place, but you forced yourself to laugh and mutter something trite about how that could all be fixed with a couple glamour charms anyway so it really wasn’t an issue for the party, thank you very much. He looked even more confused, opening his mouth to respond, but Snape chose that moment to interrupt.

“Hey, Potter!” James turned to scowl at the greasy Slytherin as you thanked your lucky stars for Snape’s interruption (a rather disturbing thought– potentially a harbinger of an imminent apocalypse. You’d never thanked Snape before in your life and hoped to never do it again). “Here’s payback for earlier,” he smirked, checking that Slughorn had dozed off and the other students weren’t paying attention before whipping a mottled yellow bottle at James.

James’ carefully honed Quidditch reflexes kicked in and he quickly dodged the object, but as the vial soared up, up, past your carefully diced tubers, over James’ messy notes, it hit your arms and shattered. You flinched in pain, crying out as the glass shards embedded themselves in your arm and the congealing, repulsive liquid dripped down your hands and onto your thighs. James lunged towards you, but it was too late– the potion had already seeped into your skin, causing an awful sparking sensation. 

You gasped, grabbing onto the desk as the feeling bubbled upwards. “Jamie, I don’t– I don’t feel–” you stuttered, suddenly lightheaded, and you heard someone gasp as you began to taste something metallic. You absently touched your nose. Why was it so cold and wet? You had been so careful not to touch your face around those horrid tubers and oh, oh Merlin and Morgana what was that pain in your hands and legs, please no make it go away someone help me help me HELP

You vaguely registered someone whimpering in the background. It might have been you, but you weren’t entirely sure what was happening outside of the electric symphony of agony crescending in your nervous system. The pain built swirled flooded through until you weren’t sure where you ended and the potion began which was a funny thought because of course you were you, but you couldn’t remember who you were before this so you laughed but that really hurt, oh how that hurt no no no no no bad idea–  

“Fuck– no–” James? Was he here too?

You blinked– when did your eyes open?– and saw him reach for you, frantically pushing his dark curls off his forehead. Why would he do that? You loved his hair, even when you were feeling funny awful things from the potion. You felt his arms scoop under you, lifting you off your seat as he caught your head from falling back. You heard a door slam open, footsteps, darkness clouding your vision–

His voice. “Sweetheart, no– don’t do that, I need you to keep your eyes open.”

You blinked again, trying to focus on James’ face. He looked pale, jaw set and tensed like it was before his Quidditch games. Were you moving? You couldn’t tell whether James was walking or the hallways were walking around you. He glanced down again, exhaling with relief once he saw whatever he was looking for. “Yeah, just like that. Keep those pretty eyes focused on me, okay?” 

He thought your eyes were pretty? 

James gave a tight laugh. “Yeah, I think your eyes are pretty, dove. Hold on a bit longer, we’re almost there,” he choked out. 

Oh. Had you said that out loud?

But you thought– he had said something, before, you couldn’t remember now but it was important and it hurt–

Some part of you, deep where the potion hadn’t reached, had melted at his words. That part was tinged with pain, too, but in a different way, raw and honest and hopeful and all for him. Or maybe that was the potion, you were pretty sure witches weren’t supposed to melt unless they were green and lived somewhere much further west, but your thoughts on the whole process evaporated as you reached a white door and a woman and your words started to swirl until they melted too and everything went black.

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Merthur prompt

Or rather, a long concept that has been going around in my head since I saw a tiktok but that I don't have the energy or time to write:

BUT LISTEN TO ME, I HAVE NOT FOUND ANYTHING LIKE THAT:

The king who seeks his warlock, the warlock who seeks his king. Two halves trying to become a whole again through two parallel growth journeys and a convergence between duty and hope.

So...

Merlin pretends to be heading for Camelot but he definitely isn't going there. I mean, IT'S THE KINGDOM KNOWN FOR ROAST BUNNY ON FIRE SEASONED WITH SORCERERS (he loved his mother but is that woman out of her mind?!)... However, he understands why she came up with the idea and agrees that his magical outbursts are becoming harder to conceal, so he wants to seek help (other than that of an ex-sorcerer who remains under the command of the chief butcher of his kind). He wants to find druids but he knows it will be a difficult journey, druids never stay in one place long enough and they distrust outsiders. Either way, he's already made up his mind and he never backs down when he does that.

Meanwhile Arthur's taking Morris to Gaius because the idiot moved at the last minute while he was practicing throwing knives.And it's totally his fault and not Arthur's. How dare him doubt the ability of his prince? Ha! As if Arthur could fail.

He knows he's going to be late for the banquet and his father will look at him in that way he does and well, it better not be that late, right? So he takes other routes and somehow ends up near where that magnificent entertainment is staying, that Morgana kept talking about but that he didn't listen to at all...

He hears the commotion in one of the rooms and ends up stopping a crime and finds evidence of a possible assassination attempt on the royal family. More or less, Arthur stops the whole fiasco with Lady Helen before it happens.

While they take her to the dungeons to burn her the next morning, she growls, attacks and curses the Pendragon ancestors... Above all, that night Arthur does not stop listening to her again and again claiming for the life of her son, burned that same morning :

«It wasn't Him, it was my magic, it wasn't Him »

And for the first time in his life Arthur asked himself a question related to magic...

Weeks go by and for Merlin things may not be going the way he thought they would. He has been living on just one meal a day and sometimes manages to pick up work in passing villages in exchange for lodging for a couple of nights; but mostly he tries to stay in the woods. It's not that he know much about living off the wild, but He has been through tough times before, not big deal, and for some reason there's something very comforting about being constantly surrounded by nature too.

Almost any discomfort would be acceptable if it weren't for the freaking unicorn that never stops following him. And aren't they supposed to be a sign of good fortune or something? Then why has it been the cause of all his calamities so far? First the overestimated horse tore one of his shirts while dragging him across the grass, and it's not like he's in a position to lack of anything without having money and with the cold nights he usually faces. Then the animal he fought with him until push him into a river whose watercourse rolled him around like a lady's garment during the wash. The last encounter ended when I lead Merlin towards some bandits Merlin did what he could. He knocked most of them down, causing branches to fall on them and their feet to get caught in roots. But one managed to get close enough to knock him until leaving him confounded, then the others who were not so bruised joined in the beating and Merlin could do nothing.

Intense emotions, deep reflections on his identity and self-worth until he is finally saved by an blonde woman. The lady said at most three words and all the bandits fell asleep.

An exchange of words that I can't come up with but ends with the woman telling him that she didn't do it for free, that he should pay with her neckerchief. Merlin doesn't understand but he's hurt and tired so he no protest

(Pause to say that in defense of the unicorn, he was just looking to steer Merlin in the direction of his destiny coughcoughArthurcoughcough, and Merlin didn't make it easy for him)

Days later the thing with Valiant and nobody suspects anything, nobody is there to save the ass of our favorite brat. But a Old lady follows him around like a duck all morning treating him like a adorable and helpful young man (much as a grandma style) until he bends to accept a ☆favor☆, yes that one... You and I know where she got it, Arthur doesn't and he doesn't know how unique and special that little piece of cloth can be.

No one sees anything strange in this favor because the old woman gave it to him in a very public place and everyone assumes that the prince is just being chivalrous

But the scarf ends up being what protects Arthur from Valiant's shield just because I say so and the magic of fiction stories and Merlin and his neckerchiefs have a special connection so its essence or whatever is still there

The story would extend to the first encounters between Merlin and the druids, Merlin and his father (a meeting before time to give them their due quality time and badass moments). He having the opportunity to forge his own identity and an independent path. On the other hand, Arthur discovering aspects of magic on his own to create his own criteria and value system. HE COULD EVEN BE THE FIRST TO TALK TO THE GREAT DEAGON!!!!

Forget that, Arthur is definitely the first to talk to the great dragon and learn of the prophecy. And listening to how it sounds, without many details and as critical as only Kilgharrah can be, plus the fact that he is only told about a certain Emrys and not about if is a wizard or witch or sorcerer or him or her...he comes to the same conclusion as us: That Emrys is his other half, "SHE" IS HIS SOULMATE... Oh man when they meet...

[tiredmagicalwarrior]

I think one of the things I appreciated the most about Nocturne was the protagonism on the Haitian Revolution.

This was a revolution that didn't just change Haiti, it changed the world. This was the revolution that would make the first black state. The first slaveless state. That would make every slave nation tremble with fear, from Europe To America to Asia to Oceania to Africa. It was what was never meant to happen, but did.

It's the nation that would defeat Napoleon and the British marine. Nobody could take down Haiti. You know why Napoleon went to colonize Europe? Haiti. That's why. He couldn't take down Haiti. Couldn't make it french territory again. So, he turned towards Europe.

We are talking about an undefeated nation.

AND! AND! A largely Vodu nation!

I was SO happy to see Vodu be portrayed as the wonderful religion it is, sacred and divinely intertwined with the Haitian revolution. The revolution was noted to start with Vodu chants and ritual.

White people refused to understand the link between the two worlds that could bring ancestors to meet their descendants. They created zombies as a horror trope. They made vodu dolls as a horror gimmick. They took a sacred religion and reduced it and vilanized it.

And I'm so happy to see it being positively portrayed in such a famous media. Vodu practicioners have already made media of the like. But I was positively surprised with what Nocturne had to present to us.

Of course, the knowledge that the french revolution was incomplete, that it was NOT FOR EVERYONE, is then again, something I really appreciate as a history student and a person. The french revolution killed mostly peasent and established the bourgeoisie, but did it end the Noir Code? No. Did it establish women's and black people's suffrage? No. Did it make a agrarian reform? No. Was it for the people? It had it's importance. But it was, at the very least, not for all the people.

And let's not forget that the french revolution's main intellectual current would birth biological racism, an unscientific current that claimed evidence of "different sized skulls" for example to prove humans possessed different races based on phenotypes.

Last, but certainly not least: it is absurd to see people claim that "all indigenous people have been killed". Acknowledging multi-ethnic indigenous genocide HAS to go along with the respect that there STILL are indigenous people and they continue their fight for their lives and land.

You know who the show demonstrates as such? Olrox.

While I don't appreciate the show claiming "all of his people were slaughtered" as that is historically inaccurate, I was most happy to see an Aztec vampire present and very alive, connected to his culture, protagonizing the show. The Nahua are still very much alive and kicking and I appreciated that the show took that into account.

And Annette! Sweet Annette being one of the leads makes me most joyful. I can't stand idiots that claim her presence.on France was """historically innacurate""", check again, dumbasses, free black people were all over France (especially the children of black Caribbean elites, for example, from Haiti back then known as Saint-Domingue, which did not possess universities and would sent their children to study in Europe.)

Anyway. To see her star as one of the leads made me so incredibly happy. She's a wonderful character and I appreciate how they let Annette be unapologetic and direct, especially during a moment between revolutions were she was very aware the french revolution didn't mean shit to her people.

But she was so lovely and to see her afro-caribean religion present AND source of her power made me emotional more than a few times.

Castlevania Nocturne really did hit this nail on the head.

Anyways. To make sure I give people answers to "but where's the evidence to x thing you said?" Here are my sources:

THYLEFORS, Markel; “Our Government is in Bwa Kayiman:”A Vodou Ceremony in 1791 and its Contemporary Significations, 2009

DUBOIS, Laurent; Avengers of the New World : the story of the Haitian Revolution, 2004

BUCK-MORSS, Susan; Hegel, Haiti and universal history, 2009