#no but like imagine being informed of a tiny fandom event

[sweetalnazar]

Man i am still reeling over that one person

[blackstarchanx3new]

FSR Rambles 7 days

Have you considered I've gone mad.

Wacky perhaps?

It's the gay ass forest scene bitches and my long winded thoughts.

WELCOME TO MY GAMER PAD. SORRY FOR THE MESS I JUST GET SO TILTED AT THE TOWERS.

Shadow Link calling VIO weird is so funny to me. Just casual spying. Nothing weird. Noticing every tiny detail about him...Nothing weird.

Shadow related to Vio and that's why he went for him over any of the others. XD

Let's go down the list shall we?~

Red's too much of a crybaby to even consider humoring not suitable for the darkness too much of a wuss. Sorry Red we're thinking with Shadow's logic here, also Red's a big baby.

Blue's too much of an arrogant hot head and I imagine Shadow would assume they'd butt heads too much to work with cleanly. Also, Shadow would be in range to be smacked with a hammer and that sounds unpleasant. Though I do think Blue would be a close second considering he could have his anger pointed at the other 3... Shadow could be like "Oh you know, the other 3 are just too...combative with your greatness"

Green's too much of a goody too shoes. Also I love the vibe we all get that he kinda HATES Green. X'D

(This is like, a prevalent idea in the fandom and I find it hysterical despite me ya know...Shipping Green x Vio x Shadow X'D Shadow tries to get along with everybody more in FSR though)

That leaves the quiet angsty one that already seems to be having doubts going through similar emotional struggles as Shadow Link.

Which one would YOU pick? X'D The choice is obvious.

I brought this up on the actual comic post but I'll bring it up again: I also think the timing for them being split up is very...Sus on Shadow's part. Like, I think Shadow split them up to talk to Vio alone and get the other 3 in parrel imo. And waited till Vio was tired from fighting through the forest to confront him. Everyone else's scenes take place during the day, Vio's is at night. Considering Shadow's the one who presumably used magic to split them up and swiped Red's sword right off his back we know the dude is following em around.

Just a set up page. leads into the next scene. There's not a lot special to say about it. Vio recognizes "Oh shit this isn't right" right away.

I like the last 2 panels of Shadow just waiting for Vio cause he's in control of the situation.

Dark Link finally says something of substance. About himself anyways.

So far he's only been repeating people's insecurities back at them, you'd be forgiven for assuming that he doesn't HAVE a character of his own. Nope he does. XD

He reveals he's sneaking through Shadow's memories which is something he's surprised he can do. Shadow's previous assumption that the curse doesn't affect him at all is wrong considering this information...Or perhaps Dark Link can just comb through anyone's insecurities. We'll see...

We get a panel of what Shadow looks like in the headspace. He has the scar on his chest visible lol. FSR Shadow has a scar from the Four Sword blast he takes in the manga's events. Because angst that's why. Also Vio and Shadow are together, but this was mainly done to show they were together in the real world. Dark Link isn't directly talking to Shadow here like he did with Vio and Green. He's just watching. Menacingly!!!!

Dark Link thinks of Shadow Link as a "Traitor" to his "Master" Vaati.

Conformation he is FOR SURE working for Vaati and not just and extension of Vaati.

He not so slyly mentions he'd rather read with and hug Vio than work...showing a weird urge to be close to the four sword wielders. Which is amusing considering the hug he gave Vio earlier ended in Dark Link strangling him and his hug with Green wasn't very pleasant for Green.

He also whines he doesn't wanna work at all. Realizing he should pay more attention to the flashback lol.

So he's for sure odd.

He really likes hugs and wants to have fun with the Four Swords gang, even though eh doesn't care for how THEY feel during his "Fun".

His body language suggests he's just relaxing and amused.

We don't get a lot to work with for him as of now.

Somebody described him as "pining" in this scene and I find that fucking hilarious so I'd thought I'd mention it. I've drawn him a shit ton with swift violets dude is down bad for Vio. X'D

Back to Vidow- X'D

Shadow further relates to Vio's feelings of being alone and Vio notices his mistake. I've mentioned before but DAMN does he look SAD in the pages where Shadow talks to him: Cause like again. He's not talking bad about Vio at least not directly.

He's insulting the other 3 and gassing Vio up as better but Vio's inability to fit in with HIMSELF really hurts and someone like SHADOW of all people being able to see right through that has to hurt even more.

Anyways I've brought this up again a million times but I find it interesting Shadow doesn't do the typical "Join us" speech of

"You're worthless without the darkness" Rather he says more along the lines of

"You're already great, join the darkness because you're wasting your greatness with those losers"

Like maybe this is normal (The pool of media I engage with is rather small.) but I'm so used to villains telling heroes how shit they are to their face rather than pumping them up. It's a very interesting approach and following Shadow's character later through the manga this is just another reason why I think he was being genuine to some degree when he approached Vio.

I'd go with it was pure manipulation: If Shadow didn't continue to blow smoke up Vio's ass through the rest of their time together. X'D Like if it was "Oh I told you how great you are now I'm gonna shit talk you to show you I'm better" but nah, he like, just keeps being nice lmfao.

We see him snap when Vio lifts the sword up when it shines brightly but I see that as a fear response rather than him like actually mad or trying to put Vio down, he comes off as more anxious than angry to me in that scene? Because he repeats Vio's on their side and when Vio affirms he IS he calms right the fuck back down. Gave him a mini heart attack Vio lol.

Anyways back to what's going on in FSR:

The realization "Oh shit I let my guard down around him" is also a mortifying thought. Like think of how CLOSE Vio LET Shadow get to him. He didn't push him off in the English anyways he just weakly tells Shadow to let go of him. He has a sword, right in his hand lmao. Bro could have like, took an actual swing or smth He points his sword at him but that wasn't a genuine attempt to hit him. but the second Shadow KNEW he wouldn't After he pushed the sword away in the most gay way possible he just kept getting closer and closer and VIO LET HIM.

LIKE.

BRO.

HELLO?

DO SOMETHING?

Nah. Shadow's words make him DROP HIS WEAPON.

The urge to fight Shadow off completely lost. Dude lowkey just gave up.

Benefit of the doubt here for Vio: Fighting Shadow in the woods is a bad idea because Vio is weakened from fighting monsters all day, he's alone They got their asses beat at Hyrule castle with one swing of his sword and there was four of them, but letting him get close is ALSO a bad idea. X'D

Shadow's in a good mood and maybe Vio just didn't wanna piss him off Counter argument, he draws his sword in the first place Shadow could have flew into a rage over just that but this bitch is dangerous Vio, and he STILL drops his guard lol. I just find how Vio handled the woods scene very interesting it really shows the weaknesses he has.

Haha so I've made 2 super gay continuations of this scene but this is a more serious take on it.

Vio's PANICING because the terror is setting in and Shadow keeps pushing.

And then he says it, the thing!

"Wouldn't it just be easier to kill me"

AND YEAH VIO YA GOT A GOOD POINT. WHY DIDN'T HE?

I've already pointed this out: but the very idea Shadow wants to befriend one rather than outright killing all four is very interesting.

He wants a friend so bad it's sad.

None of the Hinoxes or vaati's minions are like, beings he could consider "Friends" Which is sad. Vaati and Ganon aren't his friends. One's his boss and another is a guy who bosses him around lmfao. And in FSR is an abusive dad figure

Rather: Befriending an enemy is an easier option than trusting/befriending his own team. Like ouch. We KNOW from the manga he outright states Vio's the first person he can trust. He doesn't feel he can trust Vaati or Ganon which is just OUCH.

Further: The recruitment plan requires SO MUCH MORE EFFORT than just killing Vio while he's vulnerable which Vio brings up here.

Shadow slyly mocks this notion bringing up just how heartless that'd be. Comparing them all the further.

Interesting thing to note:

Shadow also doesn't outright kill the knights and would rather make them "A big happy family in the dark world" which is interesting. Shadow's avoidance to outright kill people is probs just to keep the rating like, ya know. Not T or M but still interesting from a CHARACTER angle. The only people he outright tries to kill are the four Links. X'D

Another option: Shadow is no stranger to kidnapping. He could have just kidnapped one of them. Would that work as long as befriending one genuinely? No, probably not. Befriending one is a more "Permanent" solution unless you hide the kidnapped one somewhere they can't escape or be found. And then we loop around to "Why not just kill them?"

AU where Shadow Kidnaps Vio and they have a beauty and the beast style romance where-

Here's another stream of thought: Why bother coming to Vio AT ALL if he already has Red's sword? Which we know at this point he does. HE HAS A TRUMP CARD? if they can't get the sword back because their journey IS TIME BASED: They lose.

Why does he go for the risky option of converting one of them to the darkness at all?

And if you STILL aren't convinced this is weird ass hell Okay here's ANOTHER idea I just came up with on the fly while writing this: Steal Vio's sword too. The one Vio points right at his fucking face and he could like...yank away. Shadow doesn't even have to kill him himself if he leaves Vio defenseless in the woods.

Like here's smth as a writer I'm not sure how often regular viewers even consider: Alternate choices.

"Character A COULD have done this...but they CHOSE to do this instead" What they DON'T do says just as much as what they DO, and I'll go further into that with ANOTHER choice that makes no sense to me.

And I'm not complaining about the writing by the way I LOVE how this specifically makes no sense because it leaves the door opening to asking "WHY". And we're ignoring the explanation of "Because x has to happen for plot reasons" because we ask "IN THE BOUNDERIES OF THE STORY WHY!?" because that's more fun than "Well he can't just kill Vio because then Vio would be dead and the story would be over" okay but that's not FUN to ask/fun as a response??? What kind of soulless unfun monster do you have to be to accept that as your reality? X'D

AND WHY ARE YOU READING THE SEVENTH INSTALLMENT OF ME OVER ANALYSING THIS BOOK WHILE RANTING ABOUT MY OWN OVER ANALYZED CHOICES MAKING A FAN SEQUEL IF YOU FEEL THAT WAY LMFAO.

Anyways like have you realized just how ODD Shadow's choice to befriend Vio is yet? Like because the manga plays it off as "Oh well it just happened" We don't get to sink in just how WEIRD it is I feel??? Like ALL the reasons why brain thinks "Holy shit that's fruity" because LIKE- I'VE LAYED EM ALL OUT RIGHT THERE IT MAKES NO SENSE TO DO THIS PLAN UNLESS HE'S JUST LIKE- IN LOVE WITH HIM??? None of Shadow's choices around Vio are rational and it's hysterical.

One of my absolutely favorite lines from this update is "Have you forgotten? I'm the hero! I'm here to save you!"

Because on some level Shadow WOULD think he's saving one of them from a horrible fate being merciful and kind to one of them. If he truly wanted to befriend one. Bro is 100% legit here while being kinda mocking towards Vio's assumptions about him. Emphasizing "he just wants to help".

Vio's utterly flabbergasted/horrified face was fun. There's no thought bubble so it really leaves you to wonder what's going through his head from those words.

The "I GOT HIM! I ACTUALLY GOT HIM!" face is so hilarious to me. Like- He's so fucking giddy here it's hysterical.

Smth to point out particular to FSR Vio: Vio's tugging on Shadow here is a nod to him doing that in the library when he wordlessly wants Shadow to come closer.

I imagine Vio has a hard time talking verbally about what he wants. And he's not even too sure WHAT he wants here. He just wants to feel better.

Smth about FSR Vio specifically is he kinda just wants someone else to do the thinking for once, but feels obligated to think anyway. X'D

He's at the point of "Somebody just help me" but can't put that to words.

His smile tones down into a much more....Pleasant one. He's genuinely happy Vio's coming along lol. Friend acquired.

Shadow awards Vio with the high honor of: Keeping his sword.

Back with my insanity to speak on why as Shadow Link, THIS MAKES NO SENSE TO DO.

I find interesting that Shadow implicitly trusts Vio with smth that he SHOWS himself to be anxious about Vio keeping might I add once again...Like he let Vio keep his sword seemingly despite better judgment. If he took it along with Red's, Vio/the four sword gang would be fucked without it.

Here's my thoughts on why Shadow would let Vio keep his sword: Shadow is TRYING to show Vio he's an equal.

Because let's think of it in story land perspective: Vio only uses his sword in 2 scenes that are like RELIVANT before Shadow tries to burn Vio and takes the sword anyway: *The one where his sword glows (If they're already hanging out with Red's sword in Vaati's pad this could have been kept in imo) *Where he fights Green

It'd be easy to write around Shadow letting him keep his sword.

"Surrender your sword to lord vaati to prove your devotion" or smth.

But nah. he's just allowed to keep it for whatever reason.

Shadow always could have just given him a different sword and confiscated the Four Sword but was like: Nope, you get to keep it.

Like again: This choice is odd no matter how you slice it so it makes me think Shadow wanted to show he sees Vio as an equal by letting him keep the weapon that could be used against them.

Or perhaps: It's short sightedness: "Well we have Red's sword so yours is kinda useless" I'm up for either interpretation really. (If you haven't noticed, I'm open to a LOT of angles from FS because I'm not SUPER narrow in my analysis.

Unlike some people who need to lighten up lmfao. Good god I've seen some people seemingly act defensive about FSR specific ideas...And I can't tell if they're just talking ABOUT me/FSR but like: Bro I'm so open to alt ideas as long as somebody isn't a dick. And you'd know that if you read these, FSR is SPECIFICALLY about the choices and ideas I've decided make the most sense/the most fun route to go down because unlike a lot of people I hold the idea of "If it isn't outright stated it's not cannon" so ANYTHING outside of the author's written page ISN'T CANNON. Literally I never claim any of my rambles are cannon do I think some things are true? Hell yeah, but they aren't conformed at the end of the day lmfao but I'm an artists and I can draw what I want so I got the power to make shit real in it's own way. They're inspections of the cannon and interpretations. I can never be Akira Himikawa and the translators who translated their work to english. I question their choices ALL THE DAMN TIME I can't even get close to fully getting inside their heads. (It's been SO LONG since they made this manga I doubt they remember every single dialogue/expression choice they made and WHY.)

Even the English translation's cannon-ness is up for fucking debate in my eyes, FSR is SO out of the realm of cannon/cannon adjacent it's hysterical. Because my ideas aren't "The one true right and correct ones" they're not even close. Nobody's are. ONLY AKIRA'S ARE BECAUSE THEY MADE IT. Apart of why FSR is so wonky is because it's going off the wonky Viz translation NOT THE OG Japanese! (I'd love to translate FSR into Japanese at some point, but as I've stated in the past it'd be based on the Japanese manga so wording/some things would outright be different lmfao)

Why are some people such freaks about this? X'D I don't engage with FS media that I find butchers the characters but I don't like to rant about it for the most part because getting mad at someone else's interpretation is kinda goofy considering how open the source material IS. Gatekeepy fandom culture is weird. Enough said.

This goes back to my: Link is as fluid as a Vocaloid.

and the "you will never make something as close to the OG as the author would" arguments.

And sometimes even AUTHORS butcher sequels by seemingly forgetting their own characters. (Akira is not an example of this but still)

Anyways back to the page:

Vio's just kinda broken on auto piolet at this point, thoughtlessly thanking Shadow for picking up his sword and walking as Shadow drags him along. Shadow's basically SKIPPING with delight at this revelation.

He "saved "one. And now they can both be true heroes! :D How nice how fun! Vio joined the party!~

I will mention Shadow's so wrapped up in how happy he is he's kinda neglecting how Vio feels about the situation. At least right away.

Shadow's excited to immediately get him into the loop. Shadow's biggest character trait in scenes with Vio imo is his naivety.

Vio's bamboozled at his own actions. Reflecting. It's like he's watching from a 3rd person perspective as he's making shitty choices. X'D

"Crap why AM i going with him????"

Like he realizes in real time he's not doing anything to stop Shadow, he didn't in the moment and now here we are.

And then "This was hopeless from the start huh?" coming to grips with his situation, deciding going with Shadow is for the best for now but not as his ally as nobodies ally. He's alone.

Shadow makes an effort to soothe Vio's anxieties. In his own way of course. He just assumes Vio's got butterflies lmao.

Pushing down Vaati not so casually. XD

Vio starts to pretend outright here. Making his choice that he and Shadow aren't pals.

Vio knows what he's doing right now is cruel but decides it's what he "Needs" to do.

Haha sounds like our Vio.

He realizes he just doesn't go about things the way Link would, or how the rest would.

He also dampens his expectations. He doesn't know the other's situations. So he assumes they're all fucking dead and he can't rely on them lmao. He really feels alone. Cutting himself off when he realizes the very idea they could be alive is an optimistic idea considering he knows ONE of them doesn't have their sword from Shadow's sly remark.

Diving into head cannons again: Feel like he'd be more worried if he knew for sure in this moment it was Red. X'D Cause like: I combed through the manga awhile back, Vio seems to have the best relationship with Red out of all of them? When I was seeking for "moments where Vio was touched by someone else other than Shadow" I noticed he pats Red lovingly on the head and is the one to save Red from getting crushed by the eye monster. We don't get like, VERBAL interactions from them but from the context clues I'd say Vio got along with Red the most.

Vio ended up in the most direct danger in the woods, Link waltzed into the pyramid Shadow didn't put him in there so that doesn't count. X'D I'd say Blue was in the 2nd most dangerous position considering the elements could kill his ass.

Vio's going off his own experience here on if he thinks the others are okay.

"I am surrounded by idiots" taken to the extreme.

"but even if I'm the only one here I'll still do what needs to be done"

Real Mikasa's speech after losing Arin from the Struggle for Trost arc vibes I realize. X'D

False confidence at best and lying.

He dampens his own desires just to do what needs to be done. His devotion to Zelda more important. Saving Zelda all that matters.

I really wanna dive into Vio's relationship with Zelda. (Feel like it'll be more prominent in the stories AFTER FSR's main story if we get that far sadly agh.)

[literary-ink]

As always, @applesandbannas747 is putting into words what I was thinking better than I ever would.

First of all, I have to clarify that I haven't bought the new issue and, truth be told, I'm not even sure I will. I don't think I can keep reading this without my mental stability being affected until it's finished and I know what to expect. Yeah, I know, it sounds crazy (ADHD). Tell me about being attached to your fav hyperfixation.

It's exactly what Jack's pinpoint. I've come to the conclusion that, rather than a FENCE fan, I'm a fan of what FENCE could've been. Don't get me wrong, I'm always happy to hear that the comic is still going on and we get to know how the story continues. I will lose it if the comic gets cancelled and we never get to know how it ends bc I want to know the canon story. But I feel like I'm getting upset over something that didn't exist in the first place.

Ok, let's dive into it, shall we?

I think that, effectively, the narrative of FENCE is very weird. Many of us know how the story goes. It started as monthly issues, then a pause, then another thing; we believed it was cancelled because taking so long to announce another issue wasn't a good sign? Then it wasn't cancelled —yayy— and we got RISE which was . . . okay, I guess, but we could already tell the cracks of the storyline and mainly the characters.

Yeah, 18 months is a lot, and we had TOO much time to get bored and be in need of new content. This is where fanfic writes and content creators on platforms such as this one come into the picture and create these magnificent fics that are the literal definition of doing God's work. What was the problem here? We had high expectations due to what had been promised in the premise and previous issues and the long wait, so we wrote, drew, etc, bearing these things in mind.

The canon story doesn't add up to the image we have in our heads anymore. Mainly because of fanfics. Yours are amazing, Jack. I personally love the way you write every character and the fact that they're . . . just not like that is insane to me. They're not like that!! I swear my brain can't comprehend this information. Do you mean to tell me that Nicholas was always meant to be a golden retriever??? No, you can't convince me.

He wasn't in CANON. Or at least his character wasn't simply reduced to that personality trait. I said this in my last long rambling about FENCE almost a year ago, and I stand by what I said. C.S. Pacat has priorities (completely valid) and it's pretty obvious FENCE is not in the realm of the main ones. So consequently, we get strange development of characters — may I say disappointing — and an inconsistent storyline, always tied to the possibility of getting cancelled any moment.

FENCE is very anticlimatic bc is a series that is solely being carried by its fan base. That's the thing, and I also believe that's why, despite being this tiny, the fandom creates such great pieces. We barely get any canon content, and when we do, it's just not what we expected. Thus, we end up making up our own depiction of the characters and events that we'd like to have seen, which is fueled by fandom feedback. I'll never not be bitter about the fact that we barely got any rivals phase. This was marketed as a RIVALS to LOVERS. WHERE'S THE RIVALS??? Where's the Nicholas and Seiji we were promised? I'll tell you where they are: in the fandom's collective imagination.

I'll always be in LOVE with the first 12 issues, and I'll always be in love with writers works in ao3. I swear the day Jack decides he's done with FENCE is the day I die (jk, I don't want to put any pressure on you 😭🤚)

Well, I think I'm done rambling for today. Heck, I'm sorry this looks so serious, but I could talk endlessly about this topic.

[chordata-on-alterhumanity]

The Chordata Guide to Otherlinking

Hello! This is a guide written from my own experiences, and a tiny bit of consulting with other ‘linkers. If you can think of ways to improve this, let me know, and I’ll update the original post. This is Version 1.1.

What is otherlinking? What is a linktype?

Otherlinking is the active choice of identifying as something. This sounds very vague, so let’s have an example: Imagining yourself as a lion makes you more confident, so you like doing that frequently. Identifying as a lion becomes a part of your identity.

For many of us, otherlinking includes consciously taking on traits of out linktype (imitating/“fake it ‘til you make it” OR strengthening already existing traits by focusing on them through a linktype). This is a form of mindfulness training. For example: I would like to be as calm and collected as insert-fictional-character. In stressful situations, I think “How would they react?” and try to act that way by imagining myself as them. If this revolves around already existing traits, a linktype can help amplify those traits.

Let's get some vocabulary out of the way first, for everyone who comes across this and isn’t familiar with otherlinking.

● Linktype / Otherlink / 'link- A voluntary identity a person takes on. I.e. I identify as a woodpecker because I want to. This identity can be of a real existing or extinct animal or plant, a mythological being, a fictional being or person, an object, a concept, et cetera.

● Otherlinker - A person with a linktype.

● Otherlinking - The act of having a linktype.

● Copinglink / C'link - A subcategory of linktype. A copinglink is a linktype created for coping with trauma, stress, et cetera.

● Copinglinker - A person with a copinglink.

● Copinglinking - The act of having a copinglink.

Requirements

You might ask yourself: "I want a linktype. What're the requirements to get one?" Well, you already got all the requirements down. To take on a linktype, you need to want one. Whether you feel compelled to take one on, or you feel it could help you in some way, or you decide you want to try this just for the heck of it, it's all valid. You want, you can.

How?

This is the trickier part, and it varies from person to person. I will give a basic rundown. Adjust this for your personal needs where you see fit.

1. Find your being/thing/concept.

2. Examine your reasons for why you want to call this yourself.

3.a. Your reasons for wanting the linktype might already be enough to make the identity feel right.

3.b. If you don't feel yourself clicking with the potential 'link, and struggle with identifying as it, analyze it to find the traits that don't resonate with you. You can change parts of the 'link, or view it through a different lens to make it feel closer to home. I.e. For fictional characters, it can help to disengage from fandom interpretation, or canon characterization, and instead put your own spin on them.

4. Once you've established a connection, you can reinforce it if you want to. A linktype can feel very faint at the start, so here are some examples for what you can do to make it feel more 'You':

● Wear clothing you can associate with the 'link.

● Inform yourself about new hobbies that you can associate with your linktype. I.e. If your linktype is an archer and you've never tried archery before, see if you can find an archery range open to newbies nearby.

● If you are a visual artist, create drawings of your linktype in a way that relates to your irl person. I.e. Draw the linktype in your clothes, or in irl places you've been in person.

● If you're a writer, write something including your linktype in a way that relates to you. I.e. Include them in a story inspired by real life events that have happened to you.

● Make the linktype your social media profile picture.

● Let people know they can use the linktype's name as a nickname for you.

● Change your social media alias/username to be related to the linktype’s name.

● Talk to people who will treat you as your linktype (and not just view it as roleplaying).

Don't be ashamed of expressing yourself in fear of other people’s opinions. Unless you're dependent on them (for money, safety, or other physical and mental health needs), it doesn't matter what they think.

Caution

If at any point in your journey you notice that a linktype makes you feel worse about yourself than you do without the linktype (i.e. feeding into anger, self-hatred), stop it. These dangers can already crop up during the ‘link creation process. Here are ways to go about this, and possible causes:

● Stop engaging with it. This sounds very 'It'll go away if I ignore it long enough', but that's exactly it. A linktype should fade when you don't engage with it anymore. Don't approach this by thinking "I'm not allowed to think about this anymore", but instead, every time when your linktype comes up, acknowledge it, and replace that thought with something else. If you struggle with this, examine what 'triggers' you to think of your linktype. Mindfulness is a powerful thing that often goes underestimated.

● Replace it with a different linktype that doesn't bring these problems.

● If your linktype started off without these issues, try to find out what caused it to change to become negative. Maybe there are other factors in your life that're putting stress on you and it shows through your linktype.

● Maybe you’ve outgrown your linktype. People can change over time, and your linktype could be preventing you from taking the next steps for personal growth, and this can negatively influence your well-being. Try letting go of the linktype. It might turn out the be a freeing experience.

● Talk to a therapist (, or, if you can’t access therapy, an understanding friend). Yes, tell them specifically about the linktype and the problems you have with it. A second person can shine a light on aspects you didn’t notice.

Good to know

A linktype can become an integral part to yourself, and at some point you might find it hard to separate it from yourself. Is this still a linktype? Is it a kintype (otherkin)? That is for you to know and decide. The lines can be blurry, and at the end of the day you are the only person who can decide what labels you want to use and what community has the most in common with you (if you even want to label yourself and interact with ppl w similar experiences). Unless it is harming you (or others), a linktype turned integral is nothing bad. Our environments shape us as people constantly, and a linktype over time can contribute similarly.

🐟

That’s it! If you have questions or need help, feel free to contact me through Asks or DMs. If I’m unavailable, search around a bit to find other otherlinkers who might be able to help you. ♡

[lightns881]

DTeam Tumblr Demographics Survey Results (Part 1):

The Gifted Child Syndrome is Real with this One...

*Rubs hands together in preparation for some juicy data and in-depth analysis of the typical member of the DTeam Tumblr community*

Ooooooooh boy! Here we go!

I want to start of by thanking you guys for over 400 responses to the demographics survey! Y’all have no idea how much I appreciate it! We have so much to cover, so I’m going to divide up different sections of the survey into several posts to make it more digestable and do justice to each topic explored in the form! We’re going to start of with, you guessed it, personality types!

Strap yourself in because we’re about to thoroughly dissect your sub-conscious innerworkings and find out how the typical DTeam Tumblr Fan thinks! (And judging by the majority personality types, you guys will probably enjoy it)

The Delicious Data

From the 449 responses we received, this is a pie chart displaying the personality types of all respondents.

Image Description: INFP (40.5%), INTP (15.1%), INFJ (8.9%), INTJ (8.9%), ISFP (6.9%), ENFP (4.2%), ISTP (4.0%), ENTP (3.8%), ESFP (1.6%), ISFJ (1.6%), ENTJ (1.3%), ENFJ (1.3%), ISTJ (1.1%), ESTP (0.4%), ESFJ (0.2%), ESTJ (0%)

In comparison, this is a pie chart displaying the personality type percentages of the population as a whole according to the MBTI website.

Image Description: ISTP (14%), ESFJ (12%), ISTJ (12%), ISFP (9%), ESTJ (9%), ESFP (8%) ENFP (8%), ISTP (5%), INFP (4%), ESTP (4%), INTP (3%), ENTP (3%), ENFJ (2%), INTJ (2%), ENTJ (2%), INFJ (1%)

I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing a tiny difference here... Oh, right!

INxx’s on the Loose!

It’s funny. When I first found one of the 18+ DTeam fan servers through Tumblr, I asked everyone what their personality type was. I was pleasantly surprised when a lot of them told me they were INFPs like me!

It actually reminded me of MatPat’s (Game Theory) survey for one of his Life Is Strange theories that found the majority personality there was also INFP...

Funny enough, can you guess what the second leading personality on that survey was? The third? The fourth?

You probably guessed it right. MatPat found that out of the fans who responded, the leading majority was INFP while INTPs came in second, INFJs came in third, and INTJs came in fourth. The exact order for the personality types in DTeam Tumblr.

But why is it that some of the rarer personalities of the world are dominating DTeam Tumblr or Game Theory’s fanbase? What is it about these communities that attract the rare introverted Intuitive Perceivers (INxP) and Intuitive Judgers (INxJ) of the world like magnets?

The Gifted Kid Syndrome

To answer this question, first we have to examine our leading personalities. As we can see from the data, INFPs and INTPs make up 55.6% and INFJs and INTJs make up 17.8% of the total respondents. That’s nearly 3/4′s of the DTeam Tumblr population made up of INxx types!

Now, here’s me calling y’all out.

A lot of you probably relate to the quiet kid sitting at the back of the classroom who’s put into some type of TAG, gifted program, or some authority figure has probably called you smart and/or “gifted” at some point in your life. Academics probably came easy to you at one point, maybe they still do.

You’ve probably felt your chest swell up at the shower of compliments about your intelligence and at another... you’ve probably felt like people put you in a pedestal and overrate you so you’re stuck with this inherent fear of failure, and it causes you to completely shut down when the things that came easy to you at one point no longer do so. 

It’s gifted kid syndrome hitting you like a brick to the face. And if it hasn’t yet, oh you’re in for a surprise, honey.

And I’m sure many of you have come across funny, relatable posts like this:

And you want to know why most of you relate?

Image Description: INTP, INTJ, INFP, anf INFJ’s rate the highest in a giftedness per MBTI Type chart

No. You’re not hallucinating. It’s not even a joke at this point. It feels true because it probably is true.

(Granted, the study that captured similar results to this graph is long lost to the internet, but the best source I found with it was a reddit post I will be citing in the reblog.)

Now, my next point is where we find a split.

INFPs and INTPs and their Need to Question Everything (even if it’s about one sentence [insert creator here] said that one time during a 4-hour long stream)

The strongest connection I found between the two leading personalities of DTeam Tumblr is they share Extraverted Intuiting (Ne) as their auxiliary cognitive function.

I’ll use a quote that explains Ne better than I could ever explain it in my own words:

“Extraverted intuition or Ne is very much focused on patterns and making connections from information they gather... Ne dominant users enjoy being able to explore things in a much more open manner, not wanting to feel closed off to the possibilities around them... They are also highly imaginative people, who enjoy being able to come up with unique hobbies and experiences... They are not afraid of imagining things which seem almost impossible to others... [For INFPs,] Ne is what creates this detailed and incredible thoughts process which keeps them busy for long periods of time.”

And another:

“Auxiliary Ne manifests in people constantly questioning the world around them, but unlike ENxPs, they can be more pick and choose about this. But generally, they don’t take people, things and events at face value.“

Now, think about the community you’re in right now. Think about the post you’re reading at the moment.

DTeam Tumblr is full of over-analysis posts, whether about Dream and George’s secret love for each other or about the inherent problems with Dream’s shipbait and gay jokes or theories about what’s going to happen next in the dream SMP lore and the dramatic betrayals and creator’s descend into madness and more theories about sexuality and charts depicting creator’s personalities and what they’d be likely to do in different scenarios and... ooof, I’m out of breath here. You get my point.

DTeam Tumblr is literally a group of ex-gifted or gifted introverted people who love to read or write analysis, theory, and discussion posts about sweaty Minecraft Youtubers because they’re probably too overwhelmed by real life and find joy in obsessing over “dumb” things.

That’s it. That’s literally the post. I might as well end there.

But I won’t. 

Because obsessions is exactly what I want to focus on next.

The Inherent Nature of the INFP and their “Micro-Obsessions”

This is me having a one-to-one conversation with all my INFPs reading this.

Do you sometimes just set your mind on a goal--like, let’s say, writing a book--and you spend so much time obsessing over it to the point where you burn out and suddenly it never sees the light of day because you move onto your next goal or obsession because now you’re getting ready to launch your freelance website so you can start a business on [insert new hobby here]?

Or do you just suddenly find a fandom or a show or a channel you really enjoy and you spend the next few months doing nothing but engaging with it and reading fanfiction and drawing fan art or making dumb analysis posts on your main Tumblr account where suddenly you get an influx of followers from that community and now people are expecting you to just post about MCYT!?

Oh, sorry, I got a little carried away at the end there...

Anyhow, my point is, do you ever develop an obsession over something all the sudden only for it to just disappear when you find something new or just fall into the deep crevices of your mind only for it to maybe reemerge a few years later after you get a deep sense of nostalgia remembering it?

I call them micro-obsessions. And I recently found out, I’m not the only one who does this!

Here’s another quote for you: 

“According to Carl Jung’s theory of cognitive functions, when an INFP makes a decision, Ne comes in second to another process known as Introverted Feeling (Fi). Fi does not use logic to make a decision. It uses how we feel about the decision according to our values. In other words, it asks, “Which choice feels right for me?”

Ne, on the other hand, craves new ideas and experiences to explore, which causes INFPs to always be on the lookout for something novel.

Unfortunately, INFPs can get stuck in a loop, going back and forth between their Ne and Fi. They search to understand their values by constantly trying new things. They ask themselves, “Does this feel right?” then throw it over their shoulder as they move on to something else.”

So, you’re probably asking right about now, Light, how the heck does any of this have anything to do with the Dream Team and MCYT!?

Well, my friend, it has EVERYTHING to do with the Dream Team and MCYT and DTeam Tumblr as a whole.

Because INxx’s are predisposed to end up in places like this--fandoms on Tumblr, channels that speculate whether Mario is evil, watching dramatic Minecraft smp wars and elections as opposed to looking at the news that depicts Murphy’s Law as 2020′s new favorite epigram. 

The introvert in them causes them to prefer socializing in small communities online where they’re not forced to engage in conversations if they don’t want to or put into uncomfortable situations where they have to talk to that one friend of their friend who wants to make meaningless small chat.

Their Intuition causes them to wonder into places like Tumblr where they can engage in deep discussions about their newest obsessions, and they won’t be judged for writing a 500+ word post about why Dream’s shipbait tactics are a genius algorithm strat or simping over sweaty Minecraft boys.

DTeam Tumblr is a safe haven for INFPs and INTPs who might be placed in the “other” category or marked as weird for being interested in “childish” entertainment or being different from the general population overall, whether that’d be sexuality, point of view, age, gender, etc. A place where you can fully be yourself and not have to worry about disappointing people.

INFPs are predisposed for drowning themselves in their micro-obsessions to avoid all of the madness in the world--even if that means giggling like a little girl while reading memes about your favorite Minecraft YouTube creators.

That is a deep-dive into the mind of a typical DTeam Tumblr user. What do you think? Is it accurate at all? Is it completely off? Let me know in the comments!

And with that, I digress. I’m not sure whether I’ll be covering general demographics next week or diving into the topic of ships (could be a mix of both), but I will be posting about it eventually, so make sure to hit the follow if you got to the end of this post and enjoyed it or learned something new from it!

Friendly reminder that this survey and post is in no way supposed to be taken 100% seriously. These are just the ramblings of a math major INFP with too much time on her hands and way too big of an obsession for MCYT. My asks are always open for literally anything, whether if you want to ask me about this or any DNF related subject, my own opinions, or just criticize the whole of this post and tell me it’s complete trash! I’ll answer as long as it’s appropriate!

And, again, thank you everyone who filled out the survey. Without y’all, this post wouldn’t be possible. I really enjoyed writing it! Adios!

[ejlovespie]

I Know You

(Part 1 of 2)

Fandom: Supernatural - Author: EJ (@ejlovespie)

Summary: The reader thinks she was stabbed by the man she loves and left to die alone.   

Reader’s Request: Can you pleaaase write a dean x reader angst+fluff+near death one shot where they have feelings for each other but they're too insecure to say anything about it, and then one day the reader is in a motel room alone waiting for dean and Sam to come back from somewhere, and suddenly shapeshifter dean comes in and stabs her multiple times and leaves her bleeding on the floor until real Dean and Sam come back.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2672

Warnings: Graphic Violence/Near Death/Fear/Angst/Insecurity/Eventual Fluff***GRAPHIC details of being stabbed and assaulted. Do NOT read if violence and descriptions of assault (sexual comments and being thrown onto a bed) are a trigger for you. ***

A/N: Thank you for the request Anon!! This one was tough to write but I really hope you enjoy it. I am SO SORRY it took so long. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and any mistakes are mine. Also, I broke this up into 2 parts because it was getting very long. Thank you for reading! :) 

Reader’s POV

The loud knock on the motel room door made your heart skip a beat. Sam and Dean had left a few hours ago to talk to a witness and left you in your room to do research. Excitement at seeing Dean made your heart beat faster and a smile spread across your face. Jumping up from the desk chair, you quickly grabbed the bottle of perfume you had left on the dresser. Spritzing the air, you floated through the flowery scent before reaching the door. Taking a deep breath, you turned the knob. 

Dean stood there, leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed in tight jeans, boots, a t-shirt, and a jacket. For a second, you noticed the necklace he always wore around his neck was missing. Before you could ask about it, your eyes went to his, causing the smile on your face to fall. His eyes were so dark they looked black. Taking a step back, your heart started beating faster in fear. Dean was sneering at you in a way you had never seen before; it was almost...demonic. Instinct told you this man wasn’t the one you knew and loved and full on panic gripped you when you saw the tip of a knife poking out of his jacket sleeve. For a moment, time stood still before speeding up too fast.

Taking another, larger step back into your room, you tried slamming the door but Dean lunged at you. He simultaneously grabbed your wrists and trapped you in a tight embrace while kicking the door shut with his boot. An ugly growl escaped from his throat before he violently flung you onto the small bed. He quickly turned to lock the door and bolt the chain before whirling around to face you again. His eyes lit up when he saw you pull a gun from the bedside drawer. Shock and hurt made your voice shake when you asked, “Dean, why are you doing this? What’s the matter with you?” A smile you had never seen before took over his face then. It was too wide, manic even, and full of malicious intent. “I’m giving you what you wanted, you little whore. I’m finally going to stick it in you.” 

Faster than you thought was possible, he lunged at you again. The gun was torn from your hands and tossed across the room before Dean’s heavy weight was thrown on top of you. You gasped when his knee landed in between your thighs. You could feel every inch of his large body crushing you and you gasped for breath. You fought him, trying to push him off, slapping him everywhere you could before he pinned both of your wrists in one big hand. Tears pricked your eyes when he leaned in and inhaled a spot on your neck where your perfume clung to your skin. When you tried to kick out, his knee came up fast making you cry out in pain and shock. You had never been kneed so hard in your most sensitive area. You whimpered and twisted away in disgust when Dean’s tongue darted out to lick your exposed cleavage. 

“Dean, stop!” The tears you were fighting spilled over when he bit your neck hard enough to draw blood. You screamed as he pulled the knife out and plunged it into your stomach. You stared into his eyes, glowing with lust and hatred as he pulled the knife out and continued to stab you repeatedly. Agony had you begging and pleading for him to stop, to get help, but he didn’t listen. After what seemed like an eternity, your vision started to fade as red hot pain turned into numbness. Soon after you lost consciousness, the shapeshifter changed and slipped out of the room, leaving you to die.  

Dean’s POV

They were held up with their interview. What should have taken forty five minutes turned into two hours of waiting for their guy to show up. Deciding to come back tomorrow, Dean had dropped Sam off at the library and headed back to the motel. He hated leaving Y/N alone for so long. He wondered if she was hungry..and if she missed him like he missed her. Maybe they could go and grab some food at the diner they passed coming in. Pulling into the parking lot, anxiety had Dean lunging out of the impala when he saw Y/N’s room’s door was ajar. Her car was parked right out front so he knew she hadn’t left. His gut twisted as he ran across the parking lot only to sink when he saw her. She was laying still on the bed, drenched in her own blood. Darting to her, he checked the pulse in her neck and silently thanked God when he felt a tiny beat. Briefly, he thought about calling 911 and waiting for an ambulance but he was afraid she wouldn’t make it. Not knowing what else to do, he picked up her lifeless body as gently as possible and ran out of the room. Laying limp in his arms, Dean swiped hair out of Y/N’s face before kissing her cheek.  

“Hang tight for me baby. I’m going to get you help. You're going to be fine.”  

Dean carefully placed her in the backseat before whipping the car out of the lot and driving as fast as possible to the hospital. The drive and the events that came after were a blur. A mixture of emotions threatened to break Dean as he pushed down any and every thought that wasn’t related to Y/N pulling through and being okay. She was going to be fine. She was strong, so damn strong. She would fight and live to tell him the name of the son of a bitch that hurt her. He would make this right. Although he didn’t remember calling, Sam showed up and barraged him with a dozen questions. 

“Dean! What happened? Where is Y/N? Is she okay? Has the doctor come out yet?”

In a haze, Dean tried to think back and remember. He was sitting in the waiting room but they had rushed Y/N into emergency surgery as soon as he stumbled into the lobby with her in his arms. Looking at his watch, he realized that had been hours ago. 

“I don’t know anything Sammy. I pulled up to the motel and her door was open. When I went inside...she was on the bed. I..I didn’t look at the room or anything; I just grabbed her and drove straight here. Nobody has come out yet.” 

Dropping back down in the chair, he buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t stop seeing her. Couldn’t stop reliving that moment where he thought she was dead. His beautiful, smart, brave Y/N, soaked in blood and paler than the sheets she had been laying on. Gritting his teeth, he silently vowed to find the son of a bitch that did this to her and make him suffer. He didn’t hear Sam sit down beside him or pay attention to anything else in the waiting room. He just sat, fearful and angry and prayed to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in. 

Hours later, a doctor stepped out and called for ‘Trisha Randalphs family.’ Sam and Dean both jumped up at the sound of one of Y/N’s aliases and ran over to the doctor. With a serious expression he asked, “Are you Trisha’s family?” Dean rushed out, “I’m her husband.” At the time as Sam, who said, “I’m her brother.” Looking tired, the doctor introduced himself and explained how ‘Trisha’ was currently stable but had very serious wounds. The surgery she underwent was lengthy and she fought hard for her life. Dean lost focus after that. Y/N was alive and that was all he needed to know. The doctor had gone on about details of the surgery and how she was in an induced coma for the time being. At some point, the doctor walked away and Dean headed for the exit, Sam hot on his heels. 

“Dean! Where are you going?”

Without answering, they walked quickly out of the hospital and headed for the impala. When they reached the car and they both saw the back seat covered in Y/N’s dry blood, Dean’s chest tightened. He breathed in and out of his nose before slamming a fist down on the hood of the car. Rage was the only emotion Dean felt as he threw the door open and sped off towards the motel again. Fortunately, the motel was rundown and didn’t have a very attentive maintenance person. The room was exactly how Dean left it. Beside him, Sam made a sound in his throat. Forcing himself to focus and not imagine Y/N here, Dean looked around the small space for clues. He noticed a bottle of perfume on the dresser and picked it up for a moment before setting it back down. He wanted to uncap it and smell her but didn’t want his brother to see him do it. 

“Dean, over here.” 

Sam was crouched on the floor on the opposite side of the bed. Dean walked over to see him poking at a familiar pile of goo. Dean knelt down next to him and grimaced. Knowing it was a shifter who mutilated his girl was helpful but he also knew how tricky they were to find after they had shifted. They looked around a bit longer before collecting Y/N’s things and heading back to the hospital. 

-

They were there for several days before Y/N finally woke up. Sam had gone back and forth from the motel and the hospital but Dean had stayed with Y/N the whole time. Once the doctor’s had informed them she could wake up at any time, Dean knew he had to stay and be there for when she opened her eyes. They called Bobby for some help so he and Sam were working the case and trying to find the shifter. When Y/N woke up, Dean was sitting by her bed, holding her hand in his larger one. When she finally came to and turned to face him, Dean’s relief and happiness immediately changed to anxiety. When she looked at him, fear filled her eyes. To Dean’s surprise, she tugged her hand away and started gasping for breath. A nurse ran in, shoving past him, to check on Y/N. She was gasping and yelling, “No! Please! Stop!” The nurse, an older woman, tried calming her with soothing words while she administered something into her IV bag. A few seconds later, Y/N was limp again. 

Panicked, Dean demanded, “What did you give her?!” The nurse gave him a sad smile before saying, “It’s just a sedative to keep her calm until her wounds are healed. You’re the husband right? Just give her some time. She has gone through a very traumatic experience.” She patted his cheek before stepping out of the room again. Dean fell back into the chair and grabbing Y/N’s hand, brought her fingers to his lips. Feeling lost and scared he kissed her skin and begged her to be okay.

They were there for a week longer than planned. Sam and Bobby had finished up the case and were now fully hunting the shifter. The problem was the trail went cold. Other than the few clues they had already looked into, the only person that could bring more information to the table was Y/N. Unfortunately, the few times she had woken, she had taken one look at Dean and broken down so bad she had to be sedated. Eventually, Sam had been there instead of Dean, suggesting to his brother that he go take a shower. Y/N had woken and smiled when she saw Sam. 

“Hey, there she is. How do you feel?”

Holding out a cup of water, Sam helped Y/N take a sip through the straw before sitting back down. 

In a cracked voice she responded, “I feel like my insides were ripped out and then shoved back inside of me...but somehow i’m alive.” A tear slipped down her cheek when she continued, “Sam..I remember everything. I don’t know how and I wish I didn’t but I do..Dean..but not Dean..attacked me. It looked just like him but I know it wasn’t him.” 

Sam stared at her for a minute while he processed the new information. “It was a shifter. We found it’s..skin, on the floor in your room. It definitely wasn’t Dean, he was with me and you know he would never do this to you.” More tears were streaming down her face as she closed her eyes and nodded. “I know. I can’t help it though. When I look at his face..I see that monster. It was..awful Sam.” Her voice broke saying the last sentence and Sam reached out to hold her hand as she sobbed.

Dean watched his brother and Y/N from the hallway. He heard their conversation and the familiar rage rose up again. The shapeshifter had attacked her while wearing his face. No wonder she had been terrified each time she saw him..That thought made the rage and constant fear he had been burying turn into pain. Would they ever get past this? Would Y/N ever be able to look at him without seeing her attacker? Marching out of the hospital, he dialed Bobby’s phone number. He was going to find this thing and make it pay.

To Be Continued. 

-

Tags: 

@akshi8278

@wellfuckmyexistence 

@beabutterfly987

@deandaydreaming

@slamminmine

@deandreamernp​

@the-white-shadow-of-hydra  

@lyarr24

@the-mystery-spot

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 81: Occultus

Chapters: 81/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg13

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time, And Now For A Detour

Summary:   Some secrets revealed, some questions answered.

Beyond Iceland. Beyond Earth. Beyond the Solar System and the Sagittarius Arm.

Beyond the Milky Way, and beyond Yggdrasil. Beyond the Virgo Supercluster. Beyond the Boötes Void, and all the quasars. Beyond the edge of the observable universe.

There were three giant women.

That is how they appeared to you at least. Something in you knew that they were something else, something far beyond your ability to perceive, let alone comprehend. Something greater than you could possibly imagine. So instead, they seemed like huge, cowled women, working together to weave a great tapestry. It was practically unending, yet somehow still fit on the loom, each thread a life, a place, an event. The finished cloth was all of time, all of space. It sparkled with stars and galaxies, like intricate beading, and the loom weights were raw, glowing gemstones, like you thought you'd seen in a dream once before. A handful of them were missing. They wanted you to know something. Something that had come before. The oldest one unrolled the finished cloth for you to see. You looked in, and fell away. Time was an unknown concept to Ymir. They did not understand or measure it. They did not see nor feel it. Truly immortal, and completely alone, they noticed change on unimaginable timescales, but thought nothing of it, save to admire the beauty that came into being, and flared out, again and again. They did not know how or when they came into being. The weave informed you this was before Earth, before Asgard, before the galaxies you knew and understood. The weave knew when Ymir had started, but it did not show you.

Ymir only knew that they lived, and that change happened, and that it was beautiful. Once, all had been dark. The heat of a singularity met the cold of nothingness, and Ymir was. They had drifted for a long time, between tiny lights, through glowing dust. They collected the tiny lights along the way, multicolored pinpoints, pressed into fingertips, bringing thought, solidity, movement, selfhood, the realization of cycles, and the will to act.

You saw the eons pass, as they slowly realized their sense of self, their name, and their possibilities. They drifted alone for all that time, until captured by one of the great lights that had grown up all around them. Then began their long period of admiring the growing star, learning what warmth was, and, in it's light, coming to understand what they looked like, and adjusting that as they saw fit.

They did not know how their presence effected the development of the star system. Their gargantuan mass allowed for only a single, rocky planet to form, close in to the star, constantly disrupting the rock, gas, and ice that orbited further out. Planetoids and comets often crashed into them, the resulting debris careening around the system, creating massive meteor swarms that rained fire and ice down upon the singular planet. Eventually, they noticed that the little round rock had changed, showing patches of blue and green. It was a lovely neighbor, and they enjoyed looking at it. Occasionally, their presence still caused fiery crashes and cosmic explosions to occur on the planet, but the damage always seemed to rebound, and left the little world even more beautiful for its scars.

The beauty of it compelled them. They wanted something. They wanted to create. First, they tried grabbing two asteroids and pressing them together. But upon letting go, the asteroids just drifted apart. Then they tried throwing one at another. When they collided, it caused chunks to fly free, spinning in all directions. They noticed the fresh surfaces had a glint that they liked, and snatched one up to look at it closer.

Breaking asteroids to see what was inside became something of a little game. Some had tiny green crystals, some had metal, some had ice, and smooth, glassy surfaces. Eventually, they noticed that sometimes, when they dragged their fingers over the surface of a chunk of rock, streaks of color were left behind. The points of light embedded in their fingertips imbued the cosmic stones with hue and light. Once they started thinking about it, every time they tried, their fingers traced glowing color behind them. Soon, the asteroid field around them was littered with pictograms, whatever shapes and designs they could come up with, glowing in a rainbow of colors. They set the drawings into orbit, delighting in how the art would parade before them, as the rocks raced around the star. Occasionally, one of the artworks would fall to the planet, where Ymir presumed it lost forever, so they drew more and more, their work becoming more complex and refined. One of their favorites, one with many shapes vaguely like their own fell to the planet, causing Ymir to try to make it again. For the first time, the colossal being had to reach into their memory to recreate something that had come before. For the first time, they were faced with the concept of the Past. With that, came an idea of the Now, and the Will-Be. They were strange ideas But Ymir realized that these ideas had always been, that always and forever those three things existed all at once. They realized that they could use these things in their creations. And so, using all their colors, they drew the shapes they liked. Cylinders, triangles, ovals, and cones, with arms and legs, eyes and mouths, whimsical patterns in all shapes and sizes. Set them to dancing with the power in their fingers, sent them spinning though space. When these fell to the planet, Ymir watched closely, and saw that under the clouds, all of their old fallen drawings were there: sprouting from the rocks, blanketing the land. Darting here and there through the air and in the water. So too, did their favorite shapes begin to wander, spreading over the little world, and they were pleased to see this. They watched in delight as the eons passed, and the planet changed and blossomed with ever new shapes and colors. Their favorite shapes worked and formed the land, building and creating, just as they had. Cities went up and came down, different each time, but with a kernel of the last in each new form.

Fighting occurred between the shapes, and peace as well, over and over, until the whole planet united in partnership. Through it all, Ymir's great presence still perturbed the orbits of other celestial bodies, causing icy comets and stony artworks alike to rain down on the ever-changing world. Each time, destruction ruled for a time, but always did the beloved shapes overcome and thrive, rebuilding higher and greater each time. Ymir saw, with great wonder, when sleek artworks built by the shapes began to leave the planet. In a reflection of their own origins, the shapes returned to the vacuum from whence they once came.

It didn't always work well. Many of the streamlined artworks were destroyed on their voyages. But the shapes tried, again and again, refining their artworks, until they performed perfectly each time. The world had been changing in the meantime, this time in a direction Ymir had not yet seen. The white clouds had gone gray and thick, the blue seas had a brownish tint. Volcanoes glowed orange, more than they had ever seen. It had started after a particularly large swarm of meteors had struck the planet. The shapes had rebuilt, as they always did, but this time, the change continued on in this new direction.

New artworks began to leave the planet in droves, great hordes, thousands strong. Ymir watched them as they gathered, admiring their shapes and shine. Curiously, the great shoal began making it's way across the star system, closer and closer. They were covered in colored lights. Ymir reached out and grasped one, wishing to see it closer, to pick out the ultra-fine details. Unfortunately, tragically, the artwork crumpled under their fingers, igniting in a pathetic, fiery implosion. A terrible shame. Ymir had no idea the artworks were so fragile. But they numbered in the thousands, like their own artworks, and many yet survived. The artworks were acting curiously now, arranging themselves in precise clusters and rows. Their glowing lights brightened, blinked, flared. Beautiful. The many small artworks were making a vast artwork out of themselves. How clever. It filled Ymir with inspiration. They reached for a nearby asteroid. The lights burst into beams and pulses, so bright they blinded the vast being, just before slicing into their alien flesh. Beams swept across their entire body, separating them at every joint, sending each part careening forever through space. As millennia passed, these parts would crash into stars, fall into black holes, aggregate gas, ice, and dust, creating planets around them. Their head, the size of a moon, would become the hub of a mining colony, the harvested parts some of the rarest and most valuable in the universe. And so, the creations of Ymir continued.                                                                         ****** Their world was dying. It had long been known that fire rained from the sky every few thousand years, sent by the Great Star to cleanse the world. The civilizations that came before were imperfect, and so the survivors built again, better, more precise every time. But this time was different. This time, the destruction didn't end. After the last Fire Fall, the world began to tear itself asunder. Molten rock flowed from deep underground for a thousand years without stopping. It was poisoning the air, the sea, the land. The People's shapes were loose, and they adapted with each generation, but it wasn't enough. They applied their advanced science to themselves, which made them even more plastic, some of their new forms becoming quite terrible to behold. Frightened of how far they would have to go, of what they might become in order to survive, the People looked to a new solution. They needed to find another world. They knew there were others out there, far beyond their own atmosphere. All they had to do was find them. With their adaptable forms, they should be able to survive a variety of possible planets. And so the great building began. All of their industry turned to the sky.

They built spaceships, clunky and clumsy at first, but learning twice as much from every success, and more from each failure. The ships became sleeker, sturdier, more advanced. They learned more and more about how to survive in space, about speed and distance through space, about maintaining health and sanity in the void. Permanent orbital stations experimented with stable, space-bound populations, finding the best ways to live off planet. Ships made voyages further and further from the homeworld. They came home with bizarre and disturbing stories of finding great boulders floating out in the vacuum. Boulders covered with what had to be artwork, on truly enormous scales. At first, the disturbed astronauts could only draw or describe what they had seen from memory. The great stones were orbiting with tremendous speed, after all, and spinning all the while. Many People still on the planet found it hard to believe. Where would these artworks have even come from? But then pictures started coming back, pictures of mile high murals covered in bright colors and frighteningly familiar shapes.

The true terror came with the first high resolution images of the People's ancient nemesis; the Great Star. There was no one on the planet that didn't feel the creeping horror as the images became clearer and clearer, revealing recognizable limbs, a torso, a head. Worst of all, the series of photos showed movement. Somehow, the monster was alive. What had, for the longest time, been no more than a blurry blob in telescopes, obscured by the high number of asteroids in its vicinity, now had a face. A mind. Shock and fear became disgust, became rage. Their ancestors had worshiped the star like a god; dedicated temples and holy spaces to it, made sacrifices and offerings to stave off a destructive wrath that always seemed to come anyway. This entity had wiped countless civilizations off the planet. Even their own now had to abandon their homeworld because of it. The People had stopped believing in gods, considering the Great Star to be simply that. Just another star in the sky, from whose direction destruction occasionally came. To find that it truly was a celestial being, that all those world shaping events, the loss of life, might have been deliberate... The ship building began taking on a militarized aspect.

After many years, the relocation project finally took off. Goodbyes were said, tears were shed, rituals were performed, and celebrations thrown. Then all remaining population, along with as many plant and animal species as could be salvaged from the poisoned world, were loaded onto the ships; a vast fleet of thousands, each meant to be an enclosed community. These then left the planet behind in waves, ready to voyage to their new destiny. There was just one last bit of unfinished business to attend to.                                                                             ****** When it was done, and the vast being that had tried so many times to destroy them had itself been destroyed, the ships spread out in every direction, journeying into the vastness of space, in search of planets to collonize. One, damaged by space debris, crashed onto a tiny, icy planet, their genetics adapting within a generation. Another fell through a wormhole, onto a world of burning carbon and massive active volcanoes, with similar results. Others landed safely on planets of mostly water, and found the seas more hospitable than the land, while yet others learned to share worlds with inhabitants that were already there. All across the galaxy, the People seeded themselves onto a wide variety of different planets, changing and adapting into forms so different that they would no longer recognize one another. Many lost the technology to travel through space in one way or another, while others simply considered it no longer important now that they had homes. One ship, the smallest, the very last to be built, and the last to leave, remained in the old solar system long enough to watch the form of Ymir scatter and fly away, long enough to watch their old home tear itself apart and create another asteroid belt. This ship, not as well provisioned as the others, due to its size, scavenged the system for rare materials. In the wreckage of their planet, they discovered unusual crystals created during that final destruction, crystals that could contain energy, and even warp local space. They discovered a tiny piece of Ymir that had not yet left the system. Embedded within it was another gem, and they discovered that, when contained within space defying panes of those special crystals, it served as an infinite energy source. With this object on board, they could easily contend with the rest of their People, who had regarded them as lessers, and given them the least. As a final act of remembrance, they took aboard one of the monumental artworks of Ymir, and also contained it within the special crystals. Then they began their long search for home.                                                                             ****** Theirs was the longest voyage of all the People. Despite their great longevity, many generations passed on the smallest ship, unaware that the encapsulated Infinity Stone they used to power everything, was also exerting influence over themselves. It stabilized their genetic structure, gradually locking them into one basic shape. Brightly colored and patterned skin faded into various shades of brown and cream. Having previously adapted to the confines of the small ship, their bodies became the smallest of all the People, their bone and muscle density increasing, their use of oxygen and nutrients becoming more efficient. The Stone blessed them with the ability to survive in empty space for a time, to be less effected by extremes in temperature, and to withstand powerful radiation, such as that given off by the Stone itself. They concentrated on crystal and light based technology, and eventually, Aesir began to spring from their lineages. From these came lines of famous captains and leaders: Lodurr, Hoenir, Donnar, Tyr, Woden, Gullveig, Nahelennia, and Mimir. Yet, they never found a world worthy of becoming their homeland. Not until the last of the captains, a young and enthusiastic Aesir by the name of Buri, made the fateful decision to just build an ideal world of their own, did hope of settling permanently blossom again.                                                                       ****** The aged woman rolled the cloth back up partway, and one of the others, a woman who looked no older than you, pointed out a specific part. It had happened recently, in the scheme of things. An invasion, a series of battles, a lost artifact that changed everyone who spent time in its vicinity. A Frost Giant woman, expecting both a child, and a new homeland. The power of the earth, it's spinning core, reached within her and effected the plastic genes of her child, just as in the days before settlement on their world of ice. He would be the first of his kind adapted for life on Earth, but she would not recognize this. The story of her people's origins had been lost and replaced long ago. The first of Earth's Jotnar would not know this for another thousand years. Across the cosmos, Infinity Stones, first collected by Ymir, would change hands, bringing endings and beginnings with them. Great creations and destruction alike would follow their guardians, each destined to foment change. Throughout time, there would be those who tried to gather them all together, to be not guardian, but master. Each time saw reconstruction on a terrible level, but each time, the would-be master ultimately failed. The Stones themselves fought back. They were not supposed to be here, and resented being under the will of a single being that was not of their choice. But their guardians, they blessed in many ways, though not all recognized it as such. The universe was changing, bouncing back from the Stones being used in tandem twice in rapid succession, and not everything was perfectly as it had been. Repercussions still echoed throughout the cosmos, leaving changed memories and messy timelines in their wake. The dead had never died, and there were those who remembered two separate realities. A whole year's worth of time had disappeared. In some places, entire planets changed, as specifically worded wishes from Stone wielders resurfaced them with life lost decades ago. Extinct species surged back to life on worlds no longer fit to take them. Objects popped in and out of reality, as people forgot and then remembered that they existed. The actions of one person were entirely reversed, redirecting the flow of history. It might be eons before everything settled. But for right now, ripples traveled over time, space, and reality. Power fluctuated, and minds warped. Two souls, trapped within the corresponding Stone, had been granted leave to pilot their bodies remotely, for the first time in the entire existence of the universe.

This was going to be an age of strange happenings.                                                                       ****** The third woman, the one with the wide eyes of a child pulled you away from the bolt of finished cloth, and draped her cowl over your face. It was a strange sensation; you could see, but you somehow got the feeling that no one else could, even though you were the only other person here. Perhaps this was something that had to be hidden from the other two women. She led you to the skeins of 'yarn', the threads of reality not yet woven. Within them glittered the potential of all things not yet come to be. You saw Loki and yourself, gray in both your hair, and a rebuilt Asgard that towered over the river and climbed the surrounding mountains. You saw a Titan whose air was clean, and whose land flourished. You saw a handful of deadly people, black and gray their motif, and the term 'Black Order' flicked through your head and was gone. You saw a toppled memorial in New York, three beautiful, brightly colored alien women carrying strange tidings, and a human body, covered in boiling mud. You saw an armored Titan, similar in appearance to Minos, gazing at the sky with a hate-filled grimace. You could see no further. The 'yarn' became colorless, full of potential, but unintelligible to your perception. The woman retrieved her cowl from your head, and then they all, along with their loom and bolts of cloth, began to shrink. They shriveled, smaller and smaller, their colors fading into monochrome, their forms and outlines simplifying until they were no more than line drawings on a great artwork that stretched across the sky. You floated in the air beneath it, recognizing the style as Ymir's, recognizing the air as winter, and recognizing the growing voices beneath you as the Seidkonas, and the mesmerized crowd. You could feel the runes pulsing all over your body, the light flowing from your eyes illuminating the artwork, which you had expanded to its full size using the power of the Asgardian containment units attached to it. As the trance faded, and you sank back to the ground, you closed the ancient, precious artwork back to its compact size, carefully passing it off to Saga, who had apparently had her phone out, and had filmed whatever it was that had just happened. Then you fell over, and you did not wake back up for a full day.

[tarithenurse]

Nightingale - 46

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: Fluff, feels, angst, few NSFW hints, reference to past events. A/N: Oho? Another chapter? Well, I hope you enjoy it. ASK or REBLOG for tag! HUUUGE thanks to all who are reblogging already <3

Ch. 46

Packing their belongings had been quick and it only takes one load to bring it to the house – a load that’s primarily made up with the jōnin's boxes which somehow bothers Kakashi despite knowing why.  It’s not his main concern, though.

Coming back from a longer mission, he has been worried that the woman’s decisiveness might have wavered. Most of her lifetime has been spent with nothing but a memory of a home, let alone safety or privacy, so no one would fault her for getting cold feet at the prospect of sharing what essentially is supposed to be a safe haven.

Still, he doesn’t feel any doubt or hesitation from Uguïsu as they empty the borrowed wheelbarrow. Her smile is brighter than the sun shining on the clear blue sky and the birds in the still overgrown garden are adopting the bouncy tune she’s humming.

Dropping down the last cardboard box on the kitchen table (courtesy of a friend from his ANBU days), Kakashi stretches his back. “Gonna head back with the wheelbarrow, alright?”

“Will you be back?” she answers from the living room, already busy unpacking books and sorting them, but she pauses to look over when he doesn’t answer. “’Kashi, sweetie?”

Uguïsu looks like she belongs. Not just in the house but in between the lingering memories that Kakashi still can’t quite talk about because...because there’s just so, so much all tangled up in it. He’s good at ignoring the old pain. Hell, he’s good at ignoring any pain and sometimes it feels like it’s just a dream.

Maybe that’s how it feels for her too? Yes, the past has hurt them both in different ways. Beyond words. Beyond repair. It’s strange to imagine something new and good being built right on top of the old ruins but that’s exactly what Kakashi, at least, is starting to believe can happen. Piece by piece, he’ll have to sift through the rubble to clear the site for what’s to come...and he’s happy he won’t be alone while doing it.

“Kakashi?” She’s standing right in front of him, carefully pulling the fabric away to reveal his face and kiss something wet away from his cheeks.

“Yes -” he has to clear his voice before continuing -”as long as there’s a chance you’ll be here, then I’ll come back...after a few other errands.”

The smile is back, moulding to his lips with a hint of salt. “I need to get something too, but I’m counting on you to come back.” Uguïsu buries her fingers in the unruly, white strands, making him weak-kneed. “Wouldn’t be any need for it, if you didn’t.”

“Mmmm-oho?” It’s amazing how one woman can make his mind almost blank and his body hum with a single nibble on his bottom lip. “What is it?”

“Wouldn’t be any fun telling you, now would it?” She giggles at his pouty face. “Alright, one hint.”

“Please, Uguïsu-chaaan!”

“I got the idea from one of your books,” she whispers into his ear.

And with that she’s gone, leaving Kakashi behind with a raging (albeit confused) boner that delays him before he can see to his own tasks.

...

You think the world of Naruto. Don’t you, Iruka?

Kakashi is smart enough to admit that the team isn’t 100% in sync, but both men know that that isn’t the important part – it’s the progress that counts. All three team members need equally unique motivations, and after writing and reading so many reports on the trio, Kakashi knows that showing them as much as possible is the right choice even if they risk getting hurt sometimes.

Iruka...well, he might not like how far Kakashi is willing to push the kids.

Because the captain of Team 7? He knows the time has come.

All the signs are there (including the messages he “coincidentally” has heard during the last month): visitors, many of whom are kids or young teens, from other countries; the passports being inspected at the gates and stamped after being compared to a specially issued list, signed by the Hokage; the extra work several of Kakashi’s colleagues has been burdened with as the deadline has neared. The exams are coming.

As if on cue, he hears the tell-tale screech of old Third’s eagle calling to assemble.

...

The comforting scent of dogs catches Kakashi's attention the moment he opens the door to his old and new home. Dogs and tea. He can hear the gentle crackling from the firewood stove and sees the kettle standing on the stone counter next to a smaller box with tea tins, whisks, and cups. Grabbing his favourite (one Uguïsu had added to her tiny collection for whenever he came around), he goes in search of the woman. Bare feet don’t make a sound against the wooden floorboards but he knows that she’s aware he’s there.

The jōnin finds the Ninken before spotting Uguïsu half-buried between them, back against the solid mountain that Buru is. Not too far away stands the tea pot and a steaming cup.

“Think there’s room for one more?” None of the piled up individuals say anything but at least a few of the dogs wriggle around to create a spot next to the woman.

This is bad, Kakashi admits now that he can see her. Dark eyes remain fixed on infinity even as she presses herself close against his chest, lips drawn into a thin line, and the lively glow of her skin diminished. Thankfully, a sense of calm seems to return to her with the first kiss on her forehead.

“When does it start?” Seemingly realizing that she’s talking as if Kakashi has been privy to her thoughts, she adds, “the exams?”

“The first is a week from now,” he explains and tugs her closer, “but the trio and the two other rookie teams need to pass a preliminary first.”

Finally, Uguïsu looks up at him. “I’m sure they’ll do fine. They’ve had the best senseis, after all.”

“And here I thought, I was supposed to make you feel better...”

A furry head lifts lazily. “Want us to leave?”

Shiba’s question contradicts the way he remains almost glued against the blue-haired woman, head resting on her thigh, and eyes trained on her – Kakashi realizes he wasn’t the one being asked. Traitor, but really it makes him happy to know that she isn’t completely alone when he’s gone.

Slender fingers scratch through the stiff hair on the Ninken’s head. “That’s probably best...but thank you all for coming.”

The chorus of gentle yaps fades away with puffs of smoke (the last and biggest only after the humans sit up properly), dumping the room into silence as they lie back down on the warm floor. Tugging Uguïsu closer, the jōnin appreciates the fact that it’s possible to do so, even now, without her tensing or pulling away – instead, she seeks out the contact by draping herself partially over him with a deep sigh.

“So...talk about it or distract you from it?”

She ponders the option for a moment. “Maybe...not a long talk but just...explain what happened so it makes sense?” Looking up at him, the dark eyes are filled with a doubt that Kakashi isn’t used to seeing there, so of course he nods for her to begin. “Yes...well...” she collects her thoughts, “first off...it’s not like visitors are completely unheard of here, I know that, but as I was getting further downtown, it started to be a lot of strangers that clearly weren’t merchants or something like that.”

Despite the best of skills of any given team of shinobis, it’s near impossible to hide the way the individual members rely on each other while in new surroundings. All of them would be on high alert and as such subconsciously move in a certain manner, almost as if sticking to a formation. A good team can be discreet at this so civilians won’t notice and the same applies to the hand signals or the whistles, all of it executed in a flash too quick for a commoner to be sure they even saw anything. It’s an entirely different matter if the observer is a ninja too.

Of course, the visitors in question aren’t supposed to be blending in as if on a mission but rather show openly who, or rather what, they are.

“It’s a lot of different headbands and faces,” the blue-haired woman laments, “even more unknown factors and risks.”

Kakashi rubs her arm in an attempt to soothe her. “I admit it’s tense as some of the nations represented aren’t necessarily our allies. Officially, there’s a ceasefire...but the towns guard has been strengthened and every foreign participant, be it students or senseis, are issued a passport after verification of their identity. Much like we always do except this time we have their information in advance.”

“Passport. Identification.” Sitting up, Uguïsu pulls out something from one of her pockets. “These things are easy to get.”

Taking what he’s handed, the man looks with slight surprise at the documentation in his hands. Already, the edges are worn and there are smudges here and there. He recognizes the woman on the picture, the name “Mei” as well.

“That explains how you could circumvent the wards...how did you...?”

She has the decency to look a tad remorseful, fingers interlocked and gaze averted. “You know how...”

Kakashi has had his suspicions after learning about the kekkei genkai she possesses and he can see on the sheepish expression on his girlfriend’s face that she isn’t proud of having used the power on the duo at the gate. Poor Hagane and Kamizuki.

“Yeeeeah....I had some apologizing to do after the hokage had okay’ed me,” Uguïsu mumbles. Her fingers are busying themselves with a strand of hair and the jōnin can hear the rapid heartbeat in the silence that follows. “They took it...kinda good?”

Thinking back on the worry on Hagane Kotetzu’s face in the winter when Uguïsu and her teammates had been brought to the hospital, the white-haired ninja feels confident enough to squash any concerns she still harbours. In fact...it’s almost surprising that more people haven’t maintained any animosity towards her. He looks at the woman.

Sunshine is slanting through the window behind her, creating a golden aura with flickering specks. The warm colour from the wood is reflected onto Uguïsu’s face, preventing it from being concealed by shadows and softening the contours – it cannot lessen the unease that sharpens her frown and has buried into the distant gaze like steel.

“Sweetheart...” Kakashi begins but doesn’t know how to continue in a manner that truly conveys what he is thinking, so instead he backpedals a bit, “we knew this day would come and I’ve already taken some steps to keep your presence hidden.”

Quietly, he explains about the meeting and the request (order, really) he has gotten issued for everyone to only refer to her as Mei and deny any knowledge of her real identity. Then he finds one of his boxes and reveals the contents: wigs, beards, tins of colours for makeup and hair, and even some masks and costume pieces. None of those items are likely to be necessary, knowing a bit of Uguïsu’s skills when it comes to remaining undetected, still the existence might add to the sense of security.

“We can piece together a persona that no one would be able to see through.”

A twinkle in her eye makes Kakashi frown. “Not too good, though.”

“Why...why not?”

“I don’t want you to forget I’m your girlfriend,” she teases.

What else can he do than scoff at that? “Silly-head. Like that could ever happen.” Giggling softly, the woman allows herself to be dragged onto his lap and lose herself in the kiss. “I promised I’d be there for you no matter what,” Kakashi mumbles against her lips, “so don’t you dare think a new face will change that.”

[lila-rae]

To be fair that’s her style tracker account and those Stan accts do reach out to brands and generally have loose rs w her styling team bc they tend to be in fashion related pr. Tbis seems to hold true in other fandoms im in as well. HOWEVER we know for a fact law will lie to protect zendaya and specifically her rs- pla refer back to thr whole keisha cole mom incident lol. And it’s definitely possible bulgari gifted her jewelry and even specifically a customized version of the current line they are trying to market/sell. I’ve followed Lily Aldridge for years ans she’s been a brand ambassador for them since pre pandemic. I remember her posting abt a gift of jewels from them when she went to some European event or gala (that’s as far as my memory goes lol)just remember thinking wow that’s a nice perk of the job. So yea they gift jewelry to their stars makes sense. What doesnt makes sense is why she would wear it as dressed down as she has and to literally everywhere it seems. Like her street style is more chunky simple jewelry not actual jewels! So that’s what has me side eyeing that ring. Not to mention it’s basically the exact ring type she herself posted abt future partners taking not of lol. And also like let’s be real it could definitely be a bulgari ring but ALSO be an engagement ring. As in he worked w bulgari to create it for her. Which given tnat shes working with them/law if Tom was in need of a ring he most likely would have worked w law id imagine. My point being I’m a ring truther who has always been on the fence of being suspicious as hell but also needing more information and to wait and see and I this doesn’t really change anything for me lol. 🤷🏻‍♀️(also sometimes ppl gotta just embrace that crack is fun and chill it’s not a big deal to be hyperbolic on our tiny little corner of socials )

Last ring post for now…

But I agree with all this

[eldritchteaparty]

Chapters: 18/22 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane, Melanie King, Georgie Barker, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Basira Hussain, Allan Schrieber Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting, Spiders

Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: Spiders. Also some unexpected information gives *some* of the archive staff renewed hope.

Chapter 18 of my post-canon fix-it is up! Read above at AO3 or read here below!

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

“Martin.”

Martin lay in the bed, bleary eyed. Despite how early it had been, he’d fallen asleep almost as soon as he’d laid down after his conversation with Melanie in the hallway bath; he hadn’t even gotten undressed, just crawled under the covers in his clothes. He stayed still, not sure if he’d actually heard Jon say his name or if he had imagined it.

“Martin,” Jon said again, and this time he knew it was real.

“Jon?”

“I need you to listen to me.”

“What are you doing? Why are you—” Jon sounded like he was somewhere near the bedroom door, and Martin couldn’t see a thing. “Turn on the light.” He started to sit up.

“Wait.” Martin froze. Jon had an edge of concern in his voice that made Martin much more nervous than if he were yelling. “Don’t—don’t move. Just listen.”

“Jon, what’s going on?”

“I—I’d rather not say just yet. It’s probably fine.”

“Oh, god damn it. Can you—can you at least—” He sputtered out. Arguing would make this take longer, and that didn’t seem like a good idea.

“You’ll—you’ll be fine. I’m being cautious. Will you trust me?”

“I—do I have a choice?”

Do I ever have a choice?, he thought, but didn’t say out loud.

Jon sighed. “Yes. If you need me to tell you, I will, but—yes.”

Oh. Martin hadn’t expected that answer, and somehow it made not knowing easier. “It’s fine. I trust you.” He knew it came out sulky, like a child agreeing to a chore, but that was the best he could do in the moment.

“All right. Move to my side of the bed, but—stay under the covers.”

“Jesus.” Martin slowly and cautiously did as Jon said, half expecting to make contact with something in the dark, or to feel a weight on the bed, but there was nothing.

“Now—put your feet on the floor. Try not to move the covers too much.”

He swung his feet around under the blankets, slipping them out until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He kept his hands in the air, not wanting to touch the quilt.

“You’re doing—you’re doing great, Martin. Now stand up. Slowly.”

The drop in his blood pressure reminded him that he had just been woken from a deep sleep; despite standing slowly as Jon asked, he had to concentrate to make sure he stayed steady.

“Now walk toward me—normal, but—slow.”

Martin sighed.

“Please,” Jon said.

“All right, all right.” Martin walked slowly toward the doorway; his eyes were starting to adjust, and he could see the outline of Jon in the dim light from the hallway.

“Stop.” He was probably about five feet from Jon.

“Jon—what is—" Despite the darkness, he was pretty sure he would have been physically aware of anything between him and Jon at this point.

“One big step. One big step, and then—”

Only partially conscious that he was doing it, he looked down.

“Oh shit.” Although he couldn’t see the floor directly in front of him, the hallway light was just bright enough to see a thin, broken line that cut across the floor near the corner of the door frame.

That line was moving. Crawling, in fact.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Martin cleared the remaining distance between himself and Jon in a single leap, heart suddenly pounding. “It’s spiders, isn’t it—shit, shit—”

“Martin, my—”

“Oh. God.” He hadn’t realized how hard he had grabbed for Jon, and he immediately loosened his grip; Jon, still facing the bedroom, continued to hold Martin. “Is that it? Just that? Or is it—”

“I think—I think that’s it. If she were going to do worse, I think she would have done it already.”

“That’s not actually all that comforting.” Martin took a moment to breathe in Jon’s arms and let his heart slow before he looked down at the floor again. Now that he was in the hallway and could see better, he realized the line of spiders was moving away from their room, not into it. He couldn’t help himself; he turned back to the room and flipped on the light.

“Oh.” There were at least a dozen crisscrossing lines of small black spiders moving back and forth across the room; they were on the floor, the walls, the bed. They were walking right over where Martin’s sleeping body had been lying until just now. After a moment he was able to trace their origin to a single spot, a corner of the room where the ceiling and the walls met. They appeared to be coming down from the room above them, although the crack they entered through must have been very tiny.

“Come on.” Jon put his arms around Martin’s waist again, gently pulling him back from the door. He hadn’t quite turned away when they heard a voice down the hall.

“Jon? Martin? Are you all right?” He looked to find Sasha in the hallway, with Georgie not far behind. “We heard shouting and thought we’d—Wait, what is that? Is that—ants?”

Martin noticed that as the line of spiders drew away from their door, they broke off in two directions—one line went into Sasha’s room, and the other went into Melanie and Georgie’s room.

“It’s spiders,” Jon said, in the same calm voice he’d used when waking Martin. “Get everyone else from the—”

“The Admiral,” Georgie said, panicked, and ran to the door of their bedroom. Martin started to shout at her to wait, but Jon put a hand on his chest.

“It’s all right.”

Georgie screamed from inside the room.

“Jon, she doesn’t sound—”

“Georgie?” Melanie burst into the hallway. “Geo—”

“He was eating them.” Georgie came back out, cat tucked under one arm while she brushed furiously at various parts of him with her available hand. “That’s disgusting.”

Martin exhaled, relieved.

“What is going on?” Melanie looked into the room Georgie had just left. “Oh my god. Spiders aren’t supposed to do that.”

“No,” Jon said, continuing to move Martin back toward everyone else. “No, they’re not.”

Elias and Tim had joined the group by the time Jon and Martin reached the middle of the hallway.

“What the hell.” Elias walked past Georgie and Melanie’s room, peering in as he did; he threw open Sasha’s door when he reached it and did the same. He looked back at everyone else as he reached Jon and Martin’s door. “That—that is weird, right?”

“Yes, that’s fucking weird,” Melanie answered. “Jon, this is—this is her, right? The woman that—”

“Annabelle.” He merely acknowledged her name, carefully lending no weight to it. “Yes. Well—I can only assume. She’s—she’s good at concealing herself, but—this seems like a clear message.”

“What’s the message? That she doesn’t like us?” Melanie asked, having turned to swipe at Georgie’s arms as she continued fussing with the Admiral. “Too bad. Let her show her face instead of this nonsense, and we’ll see how she likes us with my boot up her ass.”

Martin stifled an incredulous laugh; the thought was ridiculous. He was reminded that Melanie knew virtually nothing about Annabelle.

“What?” Melanie asked, annoyed. “Did you ever try it?”

“I—I can’t say that I did.”

“Hm. Maybe you should have.”

“Elias.” Everyone looked up when Jon said his name; Elias was walking toward the stairs that went up from the foyer.

“I’m going up to get rid of them.”

“Is that safe?” Sasha asked.

“Well—” Elias spoke more quietly this time. “Allan’s up there too, and since we haven't heard anything from him—I figured it was ok.”

“Yes,” Jon said. “It’s ok.”

“I’ll go with him,” Tim said. They watched as the two of them disappeared up the steps.

“Back to the sitting room then?” Sasha asked. “Until, um—that’s done?”

Martin walked slowly, letting everyone else go ahead so he could have a private moment with Jon. “They really don’t get it.”

“No.” Jon shook his head. “Are you surprised?”

“No,” Martin said, “and I’m glad they don’t. I’m just thinking—that means that message was for you. Us.”

“Yes.”

“Ok, so then—why? What is she telling us?”

Jon shrugged. “That she’s aware of what we’re doing. That she knows where we are, and that we haven’t accepted her—truce.”

“OK, but—” Martin swallowed. He still hadn’t bought into her offer, but Jon’s interpretation seemed otherwise valid. “Why didn’t she do worse? That was—that was almost nothing. From her, that was a joke.”

“I’m not sure she could do worse, actually. Not here. Not without me knowing, and possibly exposing herself. She’s likely still recovering.”

“So you think she’s letting us know that she’s still weak? Why would she do that?”

“Who knows. It’s not like it’s made her vulnerable.”

Martin frowned. “That’s not like her, Jon. She’s nothing if not deliberate—she’s always had a reason for everything. If that’s true—if that’s the best she can do, or even if she just wants us to think that—she’s let us know on purpose.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying—I still think she’s trying to push you.” He rushed ahead, trying to get the words out before Jon could tell him he was wrong. “If you know that she’s still getting stronger, that it will get worse, that might push you to act too soon and—”

“Martin,” Jon said, taking him by the hand. “If that is the case—if she’s pushing me—what would you have me do?”

“I’d have you wait,” Martin said. “Just wait. Don’t do what she wants. Whatever comes out of this—give it time.”

“Wait?” Jon repeated. “Give it time, while she gets stronger and murders all our friends? Or worse?”

“No.” Martin tried to sound confident, although he could feel his argument slipping. “No. We’d protect them. You’d protect them.”

“How?” Jon asked. “I can’t. Not after a certain point.”

“But—”

“Never mind. Let’s say we could protect them,” Jon continued. “What about everyone who isn’t them? Everyone she can already reach? Well, her and the Web and the other fears. What about Carlos Vittery and Oliver Banks and—”

“Bad things happen,” Martin said. He knew now that he had lost, but he kept talking. “No, it’s not good. It’s wrong. It’s still terrible. But bad things happen even in a world with no entities, with nothing to live off the fear, with just—”

“Not these things.” Jon turned Martin’s hand over, enveloping it on both sides with his own. “These things���they’re my fault.”

Martin lowered his head. There it was—the conviction he could never shake.

“Martin, look. I don’t know that we have an option other than waiting. I have no intention of—of ending things, not right now. It doesn’t solve anything. It doesn’t stop anything. It doesn’t save our friends, not in the end. It doesn’t save you.” Jon traced the tendons on the back of Martin’s hand lightly with his fingers. “But I will never—never—let them out again. And when it comes to that—when it’s time to choose—”

Martin nodded, but did not look up again.

***

As it turned out, it was incredibly easy to destroy the spiders. Tim and Elias had discovered a massive nest in the room above the one Jon and Martin were staying in. Elias had grabbed a supply of insecticide from the attic and they had started to spray, prepared to run when spiders inevitably scattered, but that didn’t happen; they hadn’t diverged from their path at all. That was when Tim and Elias had realized the spiders weren’t just walking out of the nest, but also into it. They were coming back to the second-floor room from one of the bedrooms below, re-entering the nest, and waiting until they received some silent cue that it was time to leave again. The two of them had then stopped and watched as every single spider, without fail, returned to the nest to die in its turn.

“Fucking creepy,” Tim said, after he had recounted it, “but it did make things pretty easy.”

“So,” Sasha said, as they once again found themselves on the floor of the great room. “I take it no one wants to go to bed just yet.”

“Not anymore,” Melanie said. She leaned over Georgie’s shoulder to rub the Admiral’s ears as he sat contentedly in her lap.

“Martin, are you ok?” Sasha asked. His face reddened as everyone turned to him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think so.” He’d almost forgotten about the way he’d left the group earlier that evening.

“Do you mind if I ask some more questions, since we’re here?”

“We’re fine,” Jon said, and she redirected her attention to him. Martin was grateful.

“All right. Let’s start with Annabelle. She came here from the other dimension, right?”

“Yes.”

“And so did you—part of you, and Martin, also.”

“Yes. That’s—yes.” Close enough.

“And that’s it? Other than the entities?”

“Yes. I—I believe so. Well, also the—the body.”

“Right. Do you know how that all worked?”

Martin recognized Jon’s expression; it was the one he made while trying to simplify something complicated that already made complete sense to him. “We were connected to them—the entities—us to the Eye, Annabelle to the Web—in such a way that when they were expelled, we were too. Or really, they were expelled, we were dragged along with them.”

“Just the three of you were connected like that?”

“Yes. Our connections were—very strong.”

Sasha nodded. “What about the dimensions themselves? What do you know about them?”

“Not much. I only—saw them, for lack of a better word—for a moment. Or—the equivalent of a moment. Time doesn’t really—never mind. It was—it was a lot. Even for the Eye.”

“So there were very many of them. Dimensions, I mean.”

“Yes. More than I can attempt to describe. Infinite doesn’t—it’s too simple.”

“Are they all like this one? With versions of us, I mean, and—”

“No.” Jon clearly found the idea absurd. “Well—some of them are. But so many more are—different. I think. Different people. And—not people. And then—”

“You know who loves this shit?” Elias sat back on his hands, oblivious to his interruption.

“Um—who?” Sasha asked, after realizing he was waiting for an answer.

“Allan. Allan loves this. He can talk about it all day.”

“Talk about what exactly?”

“You know, alternate universes, wormholes, interdimensional travel—I mean, this is pretty much his thing.”

“Oh my god.” Tim smacked his own forehead with an open palm. “Go get him.”

“Right now?” Elias grew hesitant. “It’s pretty late. Maybe we could—”

“We both know what kind of hours he keeps, and anyway, his light was on when we were upstairs. He’s awake. Just—go get him.”

Elias looked at Jon, who shrugged. “It’s entirely up to you,” Jon said.

Elias hesitated a little longer, then stood up. “All right. Ok.” He disappeared up the stairs.

Sasha turned to Tim. “Care to explain?”

“Allan’s a physics professor. Theoretical physics. And he’s brilliant, and he does love this shit. I mean, he doesn’t really do it at work, it’s not the sort of thing that gets funding unless you’re Stephen Hawking, but—anyway, he’s obsessed with it. Manages to bring it up every time I’m around him. I can’t believe I didn’t think about it.”

“Oh. I suppose maybe he could tell us something helpful. That is, if he doesn’t think we’ve collectively gone mad.”

“Oh, he absolutely will, but he’ll pretend he doesn’t,” Tim reassured her.

Several minutes later, Allan was there. He fit a certain academic stereotype almost perfectly, at least in appearance; roughly the same age as Elias, he was completely grey, and had several days’ worth of beard growth that would have driven Martin crazy. Although barefoot, he was still dressed from the day in a pair of khakis and a rumpled polo shirt, and Martin suspected he might end up wearing them the next day as well if nothing interfered.

“Hello, everyone.” He stood outside the group, awkward but cheerful enough, given the time and circumstances.

Elias stood next to him and pointed out each of them in turn. “So this is Jon, Martin, Georgie, Melanie, Sasha, and—you know Tim.”

“Wonderful,” Allan said, following Elias’s lead in stepping carefully between Jon and Martin to join the semi-circle they had formed on the floor.

“So what has Elias told you?” Sasha asked.

“Not much, only that you are all engaged in a deep conversation regarding the nature of the universe itself, and I thought, it’s only 12:30 in the morning.” He smiled, but the expression quickly faded as he looked around again at the group. “I see we’re tackling the easy questions tonight.”

“Here’s the thing,” Sasha said. “We’re dealing with something that—well, frankly, isn’t all that believable, unless—unless you’ve experienced some part of it.”

“I’ll play along.”

Sasha took a few seconds to gather her thoughts. “All right, here goes. Several months ago, a number of very powerful entities from another dimension entered ours, and—they live off our fear. And Jon and Martin sort of—well—versions of them came here, too, and now they’re both of themselves, and they experienced all of this in that other dimension and—well, if we don’t find a solution, then—um—humanity is doomed.”

Allan looked around at the group again; he had a very different look on his face this time. “I’ll admit that’s not exactly what I was expecting—” He looked at Elias, who nodded slowly and then shrugged. “All right. Let’s start with these entities. Tell me about them.”

“Jon, you’re probably the best one to—”

“Yes, all right.” Jon cleared his throat. “Like Sasha said, they are extremely powerful. Just to give you an idea—some people in the other dimension thought of them as gods. They aren’t, of course, but—they aren’t exactly part of our reality, either.”

“So—they had their own dimension as well?”

“No. They were from our dimension—the other one. They were born there, and they co-evolved with us, I suppose. But not really with us, it was—it’s hard to describe. They weren’t—physical, maybe that’s the way to say it. Not in any sense I’m aware of.”

“Hmm.” Allan furrowed his brow. “I assume you mean you couldn’t see them, or touch them. In that case, how did you—well—know about them?”

“We didn’t, for a long time. Most people never did. They acted through things—people, animals, objects—and then, later, I—”

“Jon communicates with them,” Tim interjected.

“One of them,” Jon corrected him. “Insofar as they are separate. And—sort of.”

“Really?” Allan asked. “What’s that like?”

“It’s, um—” For a moment, Martin really understood what Jon had to accomplish when asked to explain things; he could not imagine any single way to sum up Jon’s relationship to the Eye. “Well, for one, I can—I can know things. Things I couldn’t know otherwise.”

“Really?”

“Ask him something,” Elias said.  

“All right. Is my research assistant going to show up in the morning?”

“Oh—well—that’s the future. I can’t know that because—well, I assume because it hasn’t happened, and therefore doesn’t actually exist. But”—he thought for a moment— "she didn’t show up today. In fact, the last time she came in was Monday.”

“Ok. From the past, then—what street did I grow up on?”

Jon paused, concentrating. “Technically there were several, but you’re thinking of Church Street. You stayed there a bit longer than the others, and it was the one you liked best. There was a park nearby where you learned to ride a bike.”

“And what was the name of our dog when we lived there?”

Jon concentrated again, a little longer this time. “There wasn’t one. But you had—rabbits. Hm.”

Martin decided to intervene, as he was pretty sure Jon would keep going until he hurt himself. “Ok, look, this does take a toll on him, and tonight’s already been hard enough.”

“I’m fine.” Jon looked at Allan, who was regarding him with renewed interest. “Anything else?”

“That’s more than enough. I’m—I’m quite impressed.”

“Oh,” Elias said, “also we found my body in the tunnels under the Institute the other day. Well, not my body, but—you know, my body from the other dimension.”

Allan looked at Elias with concern. “Ok, I’m—I’m not sure what to do with that, but—ok. We’ll come back to it. So these beings, they’re not from another dimension, and you can’t physically interact with them—not directly. But you—and maybe others—can interact with them, say, mentally, and they can influence the physical world.”

“Yes,” Jon said. “Yes, I think that’s fair.”

“What I’m getting at is that everything that makes up the universe—everything we are aware of—is classified as either matter or energy, and the two are equivalent in a sense. Well, there’s also evidence of dark matter and dark energy, but—never mind about that for now. And although there’s been no evidence of it, it isn’t impossible that there could exist some sort of life form that, rather than being made up of physical matter, is made primarily of energy.”

“Oh. That’s what a lot of people think ghosts are,” Melanie said.

Allan nodded. “Of course, there are some problems with the idea of energy beings. For one thing, energy, as we define it, is always associated with motion and change. Light, for example, which has no mass, transmits energy as a function of its momentum alone—but it must always be moving. Or we can define potential energy, which does not require momentum, but is always associated with a physical body. And for energy itself to be sentient in any way—well, it’s not clear how that would work. If there were sentient energy beings, they would be so different from us that it’s unlikely we would recognize them at all, except through the ways in which they interacted with the physical world. That sort of goes along with what you’ve said so far, as I think about it, but—tell me, when they left the other dimension and traveled here, was there any sort of medium involved? Some sort of physical matter?”

“Yes,” Martin said, surprised that he knew an answer. “The tape.”

“The tape?” Tim asked. “What tape? Like—sellotape?”

“No, like cassette tapes. The actual tape inside them. There was—”

“You didn’t mention that before.”

“Well look Tim, there was a lot to explain, ok? And that was—”

“It’s fine,” Tim said. “Go on.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Allan said.

“Yes. Tape. Um, so—there was a crack, a gap, in our reality that led to the—the space between the dimensions, so to speak. That seems to have been a natural occurrence—”

“It’s possible,” Allan said.

“—but the tape, that was—that was something Annabelle did. The recordings on the tape were—relevant to the entities. It allowed them to bridge the gap without destroying themselves. It was—I honestly don’t know how she—”

“Annabelle put spiders in our upstairs guest room, by the way,” Elias said. “That’s why Tim and I were up there earlier.”

Again, Allan looked at Elias with concern. “You’ve been having a time of it, haven’t you?”

“Pretty much,” Elias said. “Sorry for not mentioning it sooner.”

“Quite all right,” Allan said. “This does explain some things. Just so long as you know you could have told me.” He looked at Elias a little longer before turning back to Jon. “Annabelle, she’s—one of them?”

“No, but she—she serves one of them.”

“So she is a physical being that they act through.”

“That’s—yes.”

“All right. So let’s see—this gap existed, the physical medium of the tape was placed there—how did they get to it?”

“Well—I suppose—we destroyed their other physical means of attachment to our world, and they were forced out the only way they could go. Into the gap.”

“How did all of that happen, exactly?”

“Well—you have to understand, there was an apocalypse, things had shifted, time and space didn’t necessarily—” Jon sighed. “Gas main. We blew up a gas main.”

“Oh.” He now gave Jon the same look of concern he had given Elias earlier, and the conversation momentarily quieted.

“This is—this is good,” Sasha said. “I mean—it’s good to have another perspective on this. Thank you.”

“Well, quite honestly, I’m not sure what to make of it, but—” He stopped. “You all really believe this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Sasha said. “And if you don’t mind humoring us a bit longer—well, the reason we’re all in your house, and perhaps this is obvious, but—given that we do believe these entities are here, we’d like them not to be here.”

“Understandable. It would be bad for us, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes. So let’s say that we were able to—push them back toward this gap again, somehow. Would there be a way to—direct them? Make them go somewhere specific?”

“Hm.” Allan rubbed his hand over the stubble on his face. “Without really knowing more about them, but assuming we’re on the right track—I’m guessing we’d need access to the tape. Think of the way a wire conducts electricity. If they are sentient in some way, maybe they could choose their path along it, but—”

“I see.” Sasha frowned. “Jon, is that—is that even a possibility? Getting to the tape?”

“No,” Jon said. “I don’t—I don’t think so. Not for us.”

“Right.” Sasha, who had been crossing her legs, moved to stick one of them out in front of her. She took a moment to flex her foot, and then straighten it again. “Ok, what about this? And please understand, I have no idea how any of this works and I’m only throwing out ideas—could we move everything else? Like us? And leave them here? I mean—Jon and Martin came here, and Annabelle came here, and—the body.”

“Maybe,” Allan said.

“What—really?”

“Well—assuming this is all true, then it’s already been proven that physical matter can be transported from one dimension to another, because—like you said, it’s been done. Of course, the situation would be reversed from what we were just talking about. If energy requires matter to move across dimensions, matter most likely requires energy. In fact, I’m certain it would. Moving across dimensions is not the same as moving across space, of course—but the principle would be the same.”

“How much energy?”

“I can only assume enormous amounts.”

“Like—I don’t know, a nuclear bomb?”

“Well, how much mass are you talking about?”

“Humanity. The world.”

“A nuclear bomb would be a mere drop in the bucket. It would barely register.”

“Hm.”

The group fell silent again. Martin didn’t really know how to feel about any of this; he imagined the others were feeling the same. Allan’s thoughts on all of it made sense, at least as far as he understood them. In the end, though, it didn’t really present any new options, did it? Messing with the tape was almost certainly impossible given that Jon, even when his power had been at its height, was lost within seconds of trying to know its path. And the way Allan had described the amount of energy required to move everything else and leave the entities behind—even if they had some idea of how to do it, that was just too much, right? Could that much energy even exist?

“I might have a way,” Jon said quietly.

It only took Martin a moment to understand what Jon was suggesting.

“No,” he said firmly. “No. Absolutely not.”

“What just happened?” Tim asked.

Neither of them responded.

“Please,” Sasha said. “If there’s something—obviously we need to consider anything very carefully, but—if there’s a possibility—any possibility—”

“I could start another apocalypse.” He met Martin’s eyes; Martin looked back at him in disbelief.

“Ok,” Sasha said. “I have to say, I’m not sure how that helps.”

“When I—started it, before—when I said the words, and they—” Martin could see how hard Jon was working to hold back the misery of it, to hide the guilt and the torment he’d carried with him since that day. Martin’s instinct was to reach for him, to stop him before he crumpled under the weight of it, but at the same time he wanted it all to come out. It wasn’t that he wanted Jon to hurt; it was that he wanted them to see it, to understand how stupid this was. He wanted Jon to break now, just a little, so he wouldn’t destroy himself later. “When they entered our world, in that moment, the sheer amount of power they brought with them—it was—”

Martin lost it. “And what, you’re going to control it? Jon, that’s insane. Even the idea is—”

“Jonah did,” Jon answered. “Jonah controlled it, before he—where do you think that ridiculous tower came from? Jonah Magnus, king of a ruined world. Do you think the Eye gave a shit about his ego? Jonah made that world, Martin. He laid out the domains, preserved his own place in them just so he could—”

“Jon—"

“—and if I take his place in the ritual and retain the role of the Archivist, I believe I could—”

“No. Don’t even say it. It is way, way too—”

“All right,” Sasha broke in. “Stop. I’m sure I’m not following all of this, but you are talking about deliberately starting an apocalypse and—somehow using it? I take it the apocalypse wouldn’t actually take place, then?”

Jon considered. “Well, it would, but everyone would be—somewhere else. If I succeeded, no one would ever know it happened. And the entities would be left here to burn themselves out.”

“And if it failed?”

“If I failed, then that would be it,” Jon said. “There would be no going back. The opportunity would only exist for a moment.”

“That does sound incredibly risky.” Martin was briefly relieved; surely that would be the end of it. “But on the other hand—”

“What?” Martin’s desperation tumbled out of him. “You can’t be serious. It’s too much. It’s too dangerous.”

“Just—listen, Martin. Please. No, actually—all of you, listen. We are making no decisions tonight. We don’t understand this well enough. But if this is even a possibility, I think we have to consider it. It’s the only option we’ve come up with so far that doesn’t end with spreading the fears or sacrificing literally everything in our world. Everyone else—what are your thoughts?”

Uncomfortable silence pervaded the group; Melanie was the first person to speak. “I don’t know. It sounds like a lot could go wrong. And don’t take this the wrong way, but—it puts an awful lot of— pressure on Jon.”

“Yeah,” Georgie said. “I agree. I’d want to be a little more certain about—well, a lot of things, but like— what does that even look like, moving everything to another dimension? I mean, given what happened with Martin and Jon—well, if we didn’t just blow ourselves up or something, we wouldn’t want to crash land on top of a world filled with our own doubles, for example. Or end up somewhere worse.”

“Yes,” Sasha said. “We’d need to know a lot more—as much as we can. Allan, is there—is there any way to—I don’t know, check on any of this?”

Allan looked like he had been run over. “Keeping in mind, of course, that this is all very—um—”

“Yes. We know.”

“—I’m willing to do what I can. It sounds like the place to start would be wherever this supposed gap is. Do you happen to—”

“Yes,” Jon answered. “Hilltop Road. In Oxford.”

“All right. I’ll go in the morning. I’ll cancel my classes for tomorrow. I’ll take anyone else with me who wants to go. We’ll stop by the university and pick up some equipment on the way out. Let’s say 8 am.”

“Thank you. That’s—that’s very helpful. Anyone else? Any thoughts?”

Elias shook his head.

“Tim?”

“Well, just that—” He looked around at everyone, then shook his head once. “Never mind. It will wait.”

“Fair enough. All right. I know tonight has been a lot for everyone. Too much, really. We should sleep. Is everyone comfortable going back to their rooms?”

There was another bout of silence, and again Melanie was the first to speak. “I am if Georgie is.”

“Why not,” Georgie said, standing as she carefully balanced the Admiral in her arms. “I sort of doubt this one would let us sleep through another midnight buffet. Ugh.”

“Jon? Martin? What about the two of you?”

Jon reached for Martin’s hand; he didn’t pull it away. “We’ll be all right.”

“Martin, I’m sorry for—”

Martin turned away, and Sasha let her apology drop off. He heard Jon say something quietly to her, then accepted Jon’s encouragement to get to his feet. Sasha would have to forgive him later. He could tell they were still talking, although their words had become indistinguishable to Martin. He could hear Tim’s voice; somewhere behind him, Allan and Elias were having an exchange.

“Come on.” Jon’s voice, close to him. Martin’s body ached as if from a low-grade fever as they walked. It was a relief when Jon shut the door of the bedroom behind them, turning off the light that had been left on earlier. They faced each other in the dark.

“Martin—"

“No.”

“I know how you feel about this.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you do. It just doesn’t matter.”

“Please.” Jon reached for him; Martin allowed him to turn his head, but would not let his eyes follow even though neither of them could see. “What if this—”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare. Not you.”

“All right.” Jon kissed him. Martin responded simply because he needed it; he needed the comfort. He wanted Jon close to him, and always would. He was too exhausted to fight it.

“Can you sleep?” Jon asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Just lie with me, then?”

He nodded, his forehead pressing against Jon’s in the dark.

Jon held him, and Martin lay awake for a long time.

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms - Goodbye Blue Sky

Part 10

Extra long, late Christmas gift. Warnings are always in effect. I'll leave it at that.

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~---~

The moment the door creaked open, Marinette woke up, shifting towards the source upon recognizing its pattern. Damian stopped misstep as their eyes met, then proceeded to edge closer until he could sit upon the edge. They sat silently watching one another, Marinette's tired mind not fully functioning in her sleepy state now that the intruder was blatantly not a threat to keep track of. 

The boy faced away from her, muscles tense and trembling ever so slightly. He twitched as though he wanted to turn around but aborted the attempt before it could even begin. His fists twisted up in the sheets at his side and he seemed to brace himself for something. Haze lifting a touch, she realizes she needs to bridge the gap herself this time. Normally he came to her in his own time, but just showing up in her room in the middle of the night told her how much he was already meeting her halfway; even if he needed something from her and not the other way round.

Reaching out, shuffling the sheets in warning, she rested a calloused hand on his wrist. His attention snapped over to her, head whipping over his shoulder and eyes locking once more. Only this time, he stayed close enough for her to see the shine to his eyes, fear hiddened in the depths. 

"Damian?"

He huffed a breath through his nose, staying silent otherwise, not moving closer nor creating distance between them. Deciding he probably wouldn't speak on the issue in this mental state, she tugged softly at his wrist, shifting to the other side of the bed and lifting the bedding on the now opened side, keeping her grip on his wrist gentle enough to ensure he knew he could escape at a moment's notice with no resistance.

"Come here, little one. Sleep."

His face pinched up as though to protest only to soften into a confused little pout, "No questions?"

"None."

He eased up, padding further onto the bed and settling beside her, relaxing as time passes. Marinette maintained a foot and a half of distance between them, refusing to crowd the boy or make him uncomfortable after he came to her. She knew he craved attention and affection, likely touch starved throughout the last seven years, but knew Damian needed to decide for himself if that was something he wanted from her. Despite calling her family, Marinette knew she would need to tread carefully to not break that fragile trust, letting him decide if he wanted her as an older sibling, parental figure, or distant cousin. So instead of cuddling the distressed boy as her instincts screamed for, she turned away and listened until his breathing settled before slipping back to sleep herself.

...

Their plans started to take a new depth, Talia starting to speak more in places and times instead of abstracts, referring to several upcoming missions or events in which opportunities might present themselves and how to take full advantage and slip away.

She stressed the importance of not informing her when they decide to leave and where they'll end up. 

The decisions laid out before her, Marinette mapped out every instance and possible outcome, taking the easiest routes and simplest plans and immediately scrapping them. Too easy to track. She also scraped any idea that seemed overly complex. Overactive imaginations such as Ras' would immediately think of the most intricate and convoluted plans and follow their leads. The distraction or escape itself mattered less than the journey afterwards, when the league would attempt to hunt them down to reclaim their heir. She wanted a middle ground. Something complex enough to throw them off of any path, but easy enough to not hit their radar. 

The thought hit her in the middle of the night, Damian snug on the other half, having entered some time ago. Looking down at the child, she knew where they would go and how. 

The next day, she waited for Talia in her rooms. When the woman entered, she waited until the door locked to speak.

"I've figured it out."

"Jason, what did I-"

"I'm not here to tell you any details. I'm just informing you that our departure is prepared for. And to say goodbye. You can't know when we'll disappear, meaning the loss of your son will blindside you as well. So I'm telling you now. His ties are broken, he won't come back, he will never feel the need to return. I'll keep him safe though. I'll remember your love and sacrifice. It's going to be okay Talia. You're doing what's best for him."

"I know," she gave a small smile, broken in the corner. With that, Marinette left her alone, knowing there was nothing left for them to say. The woman knew how grateful she was for this second chance at life. For the training and education. The trust and care. The connection to the world through her child.

The next morning she found a bag hidden in her rooms, filled with supplies and multiple currencies of cash, along with access keys to multiple unattached drop boxes across the world. Child support, she thought to herself with a huff of laughter.

…

The two had just returned from a particularly terrible mission, where Damian had made his second kill and she had taken some gruelling measures to protect the kid and prevent his needing to step in further.

When Damian entered her room that night, it seemed less for his own comfort and more for hers. As though he sensed how distraught his killing made her. He was too young and raised too harshly to understand why, but knew that it upset her and wished to soothe the gloom looming over them. If she had to guess, that probably contributed to why he avoided the act when out on the field. She took matters into her own hands, killed when the situation called for it and sometimes when the madness echoed a touch too loud, but she couldn't stand the thought of the little one becoming a killer.

Huddling amongst the sheets and feeling his tiny hand press between her shoulder blades, she decided the time to inform Damian had come at last.

"If I said we could escape this. The trainers who hurt and demean you, the woman who disowned you, the man who cares only about an heir and not the boy behind the title, would you want that?"

His breathing pattern threw itself off just a touch, a sign of his surprise, "What do you mean?"

"The League. Talia, Ras, everything. Would you want to escape. See the outside world, decide for yourself who you ought to be, instead of just becoming what they want. Stop being used."

"That's not an option though," he countered, tone cautious.

"Why not?"

"Where would I go? How? Nobody escapes."

"We could. I've spent enough time as Talia's pet to know how to evade anyone here. Watched and listened in to enough to know how Ras thinks. And you? You grew up here, you must have this place memorized like the back of your hand. Know the patterns and inner workings of its people. We could escape, together."

He stayed silent, hand wrapping into the back of her shirt subconsciously where it lay.

"And once we're out?"

"I grew up in the outside world, I know where to go, how to survive."

"You're saying I'd have to trust you with my life."

"I'd be trusting you as well. I'm trusting you now to even ask this," she mentioned, drawing attention to how risky bring up an escape plan to the heir of the Demon's Head truly was. Showing her trust in him to ease the fear of putting his life in her hands.

"And if we were to escape successfully, I'd be free then? To make my own decisions like you said?"

"With some moderate supervision," her voice betrayed her amusement at his prodding, "I'm not going to distance myself from your upbringing like they did, but I'm also not planning to micromanage your life. Just enough to keep you safe and guide you through the outside world. Does that sound agreeable?"

"I could live with that," he surprisingly sounded pleased by the notion instead of putoff as she had originally expected. She hummed in contemplation and fell silent for some time before feeling a tug from the hand still at her back.

"Jason?"

"Have a bag ready at all times. We'll need to leave at a moment's notice."

Damian fell silent, but she felt the way his hand relaxed it's grip at her, his quiet sigh all she needed. He would be ready.

…

Only a week after their conversation, an opportunity presented itself. Whether Talia played a hand in it, she didn't know, but either way, Marinette was not about to look this gift horse in the mouth. 

The two woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of chaos. Screaming came from outside, the crackling of fire and clang of metal hitting metal in the distance. The city was under attack.

Marinette pushed Damian to the edge of the bed, urging him up and grabbing their bags from hidden compartments around the room, throwing a change of clothes to the boy and grabbing her own, shoving armor and her mission clothes on, knowing the boy was doing the same somewhere out of sight. Soon, they were back in front of each other, Marinette adjusting his one small bag onto his back and carefully strapping the rest to her own before handing his katana over, bending down to look him in the eye.

"If it comes to it, don't hesitate. Your life is way more important to me than theirs. They will aim to kill you. I won't let them. But if someone gets past me, protect yourself."

"I know."

"Promise me. I don't care how much you think it upsets me. Promise me you'll do whatever it takes to make it out of here."

He looked down, lips twisting and brow furrowing before he met her eyes and nodded, "Promise."

Nodding, she led the way out, bladed staff at her back, knives in hand. By some stroke of luck, most of the fighting stayed some distance away. Happening upon a small crisped body, unrecognizable, she pushed Damian forward, grabbing a small blade off him as he passed and pushing it into the crumpled hand of the dead, pushing back fear at her own lack of respect for the dead. Now was not the time for a crisis. Looking up, she met his confused eyes, gesturing to the body size and pointedly looking him up and down. Realization struck and he nodded back. She wanted them to assume he died in the attack. As she headed towards a tunnel up ahead, he tugged on her wrist, leading her another direction. She gave a questioning look, but followed upon his insistence. As they turned another sharp corner, a body hit hers. She rolled with it, seeing another approach Damian and throwing a knife with perfect precision into the would be attackers neck as she hit the floor, her own now straddling her stomach. Before she could even start to fight back, a flash of silver crossed above her and blood rained down, covering her as the body dropped heavy on top of her. Shoving it off, she rolled onto her stomach and into a crouch, dragging her arm across her face and looking up into Damian's wide eyes, katana dripping blood in his hands. Clearing what she could from her face, she stood up and put a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the scene and internalizing the moment to panic on later. She yanked her knife from the neck of the other and picked up their pace down the hall once more, urging him to take over directions again, not knowing his escape path and glad for the distraction it offered him. Turning down another path, Marinette caught sight of the carnage down a separate hallway and rushed them along faster. Damian pulled off the path into an alcove and shoved at the wall until it gave way to another blocked off path. They took the time to reset the wall to cover the path once more. At this point, she took out a glowstick, snapping it and allowing the acid green to light the way. 

At some point the path turned upwards and continued winding for another mile before letting out into a basement. Deciding not to tempt fate, they changed into civilian clothes and made their way out of the abandoned building. From there, they set off for the next city over before taking one of many sets of airline tickets shoved into the cash bag courtesy of Talia and flying out. Arriving in a new city, they rented a hotel room and burnt the remaining tickets. 

The next week followed the same pattern. Buying bus tickets and airline tickets under different IDs, some stolen from other league members, some falsified and placed in the bag weeks before with no one the wiser. 

By the end of the week, they reached their final destination. Gotham City. The last place anyone would expect Jason to run back to. Renting an apartment was easy enough, Talia and the league having been very thorough in teaching how to falsify documents, the former having taught her personally, the latter having taught Damian.

Around this time, in a dingy, inconspicuous hotel, Marinette broached a rather difficult topic.

"Damian, you need to decide who I am to you before we move forward."

"Put me down as-"

"Hold up, I'm not finished."

He huffed at her interruption, but gestured for her to continue.

"Do you know how Talia came across me?"

"You were a dead boy who came back to life and dropped into a coma. She took you in and healed you in the pit. You were connected to someone she cared about once."

"Have you heard of Batman and Robin?"

"Yes? I don't see what this has to do with anything."

"Jason was Robin. I was killed by the Joker, sat in a grave for something like six months in a dead body. It came back to life and I clawed out of that grave and to a hospital where I was indeed in a coma for a year before coming back and being found by Talia."

A contemplative pinch in his forehead showed up as he thought on her words, "You said Jason was Robin. But you died. What does that mean?"

"This is Jason's body, but I'm not Jason. I'm his soulmate. I died for him and the connection was lost. I've never been Jason, in all the time you've known me."

"Why are you telling me now?"

"You deserve to know exactly who I am before you decide anything. Especially anything pertaining to my guardianship over you."

"But I know who you are. What body you inhabit means nothing."

Marinette felt a tiny smile tilt the corner of her lip, "All the same."

"But… Out of curiosity, what's your real name?"

"Marinette," the name fell heavy off her tongue, foreign and harsh after nearly three years without use.

"On paper, you'll be my older brother, Jason, who gained full custody over me upon the death of our parents."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. In reality, you're my big sister though. Alright?"

"Alright. Mind if I take some liberties with the paperwork?"

Narrowed green eyes seemed to assess her for only a moment before he nodded and moved on to the next piece of legal work. The fact he could understand the jarbel on the sheet still caught her off guard at times. Shaking her head, she made a few adjustments on the electronic documentation, saving the work and erasing any trace of proof of her having hacked the system. Having her own laptop was coming in handy.

With their identities secured, she rented their new place and had them moved in within three days. 

While their cash wasn't even near dwindling, she began her hunt for work. Her first instinct was to return to design, but after so many years, the idea of designing clothing with no real purpose no longer held its appeal. Hopefully something would come her way soon.

…

Their first night in their new home, Damian crawled into her bed with nightmares from the night of their escape. She certainly felt the terror of that night in the back of her mind as well. 

"I'm sorry," the seven year old murmured, hunched up as though expecting anger.

"What for?" She whispered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes while turning towards the small voice.

"I didn't listen. When we escaped. You told me only to protect myself."

"You did protect yourself."

"I also protected you. You probably didn't even need my help, yet I killed that man before you could."

"I told you to do what you deemed necessary. Could you think of an alternative option?"

"No… they wouldn't have stopped until one of you were dead. He had to die for us to escape."

"Correct. While I wish that blood wasn't on your hands, his death in that moment was inevitable."

"You are still upset though."

"I would be upset either way. You shouldn't have to witness such things. But I'm glad we're both safe and that's what's important. That you're okay and neither of us will be put into such a position again."

"Do you resent your soulmate? For putting you through all of this?"

"No. Never. I chose to die for him. I chose to take every hit the Joker intended for him. I chose to take his place in the horrific life fate planned for him. He fought me in those last moments, you know? Tried to force his way back into his body. He didn't want this for me either. But I got a second chance. I've learned so much. I got you. And he's safer, wherever he is."

"You love him," he stated.

"I love him," she agreed easily.

Silence fell over the room and Damian shifted closer until he could snuggle right up into her side, holding a tense position until she wrapped an arm around him and whispered a soft goodnight. With that gentle acceptance, he immediately softened in her hold and fell into a restful sleep.

… 

Around eleven in the morning, she woke abruptly to a yanking sensation in the back of her mind. Stumbling out of the room, she pushed over to a bar stool in the open kitchen, collapsing onto it and leaning on the table before promptly blacking out.

[datheetjoella]

Fantober 2020, Day 16: Birthday

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 16/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 1,935 Tags: Canonverse, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friends & Family, Birthday Fluff Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

                                            -----------------------------------

With a smile, Makoto waved goodbye to his colleagues and left the building. Haruka had invited him to come over after work, so instead of heading towards the train station, Makoto walked to his apartment with a spring in his step.

On a scale of awful to great, today had been pretty good: his friends and family members sent him messages this morning, some of his university mates treated him to lunch, and the children in his class began to sing for him the second he entered the pool area. Everyone had chipped in to make this day memorable for him, but all the while, he'd been looking forward to seeing Haruka the most.

From back when he was a kid, his birthday was something he always enjoyed immensely. But for the first time in nineteen years, there was a bitter undertone laced throughout the sweet day. It was the first birthday he celebrated in Tokyo, without his family. He woke up without the scent of his mother's special birthday breakfast, without receiving his father's 'you're a man now' speech that he'd been getting since he was ten, without the twins arguing over who drew the prettiest picture and who made the best birthday wish for him.

Occasions like this made him miss them even more than he usually did. He'd known that would happen when he left Iwatobi to pursue his dream and it was a decision he still stood by, but it did make him feel a bit lonely. That was why he was so glad to have Haruka with him: if he were alone, he might've succumbed and given up after a month, fled back to Iwatobi with his tail between his legs. But Haruka brought that little piece of home with him, or rather, anywhere would be home as long as Haruka was there. Even when things got difficult or when homesickness overwhelmed him, Haruka's ever-present support gave him the strength to push through.

Still, it wouldn't feel right to pass this day by without speaking to his family, so maybe he could call them. It was getting pretty late and the twins were probably in bed already, but he hadn't had the time to sit down and chat with them and their parents earlier. He'd make sure to apologise to them during their skype session on the weekend.

A sense of relief washed over him as he grabbed the knob of Haruka's apartment door. Finally, he could hold Haruka in his arms and although every other gesture was nice, that was the only birthday gift he needed.

As he expected, the door wasn't locked but when he swung it open, he frowned. It was pitch black in the apartment. Haruka had to be home because he knew better than to leave his front door unlocked in Tokyo, so something else had to be up. Had he forgotten about his birthday and gone to sleep early?

After contemplating for a second whether or not to turn the light on, he flipped the switch anyway.

"Surprise!"

Makoto's jaw dropped. 'Surprise' was an understatement.

Haruka was very much awake, seated on the floor with a small smile adorning his features. On the table beside him stood his laptop with the screen turned to the entrance, displaying a group call with his parents and the twins, Nagisa, Rei, Gou, Rin, and even Sousuke.

Simultaneously, everyone yelled out a variation of 'happy birthday, Makoto' and tears sprang to his eyes.

"Haru!"

"Happy birthday," Haruka said and he patted the cushion on the floor beside him. "Come sit."

Makoto didn't need to be told twice. He kicked off his shoes and plopped down in front of the laptop, unsure who to greet first.

"Everyone, thank you so much for coming," he settled on, unable to hide his wide grin. "This really means a lot."

"Don't thank us," his mother said and before she could say more, the twins interrupted.

"Yeah, this was Haru-chan's idea!" said Ran, zealously moving closer to the screen in the hopes of being in view better, causing only her bangs and the top of her head to be visible.

"He got us all together." Ren tugged at his sister's arm to get her to sit back down, and their father put a hand on each of their shoulders, a reminder to stay calm.

"Haru," Makoto said again, but when he turned his head to face him, Haruka was no longer sitting next to him. He looked around the apartment and saw him coming from the kitchen with a plate in his hands.

"I didn't have time to bake something myself," Haruka said as he lowered the plate, "But I hope you still like it."

On the porcelain plate lied a brownie with a single lit candle stuck in it, and Makoto instantly recognised it as one from the deluxe bakery near the station. On top of the soft crumbly deliciousness, they also had chunks of chocolate baked through them, which made them even more amazing. "Like it? I love it, but these are so expensive!"

Haruka shrugged. "It's your birthday, so I got a whole box."

Before Makoto could open his mouth for more protests, Haruka sent a look through the webcam and in unison, everyone began to sing 'Happy Birthday' in varying degrees of English proficiency.

The lump in Makoto's throat returned, and he couldn't do anything but sit back and smile brightly at his wonderful friends and family. He was so grateful for every single one of them and he loved them all wholeheartedly.

When the song was over, the twins and Nagisa yelled out, "Make a wish!"

To humour them, Makoto closed his eyes as if to ponder about it for a moment, then he blew out the candle.

"What did you wish for, Onii-chan?" Ren asked.

"He's not supposed to tell us," Ran said, "if he does, then it won't come true."

"I'll make sure it comes true," Makoto chuckled, "because I wished for all of us to see each other again very soon."

"Do you think you and Haruka-senpai will be able to come back during the winter break?" Gou asked.

"We're planning to. I don't know when my last shift of the year is yet, but I can't imagine it'll be during the break."

"I'll be in the country too," Rin said with a sharp smirk, "So we can all meet up then. I hereby challenge you guys to a relay!"

"Don't cry when you lose," Haruka said, unimpressed.

Before Rin had the chance to sputter and shout obscenities in the presence of two children, Rei spoke up.

"We'll discuss the details later, when we have more information on our schedules. For now, I think it's time for us to sign off."

"What, already?" Nagisa whined, pushing out his bottom lip.

"We agreed we would leave after we said our piece to give Makoto-senpai some time with his family."

Nagisa sighed exaggeratedly and slumped against his desk. "I know."

"We'll catch up later," Rin said and Makoto nodded in agreement.

"Have a good one, Makoto," Sousuke said, a genuine smile breaking through his otherwise brooding exterior.

"Thanks so much everyone, I really appreciate this."

With waves and goodbyes and promises to talk more later, their friends exited the chat, leaving only the Tachibanas on the screen.

For the next half hour, Makoto and his family went over everything that happened in their lives since their previous skype session - which had been Saturday morning. The twins were in their pyjamas and told him with wide grins that they brushed their teeth beforehand so they could stay until it was their bedtime. Their enthusiasm was infectious and Makoto described the events of the day to them - and to Haruka - with an equally bright smile.

Makoto detected a hint of jealousy from his siblings when he mentioned the kids in his class. They grumbled under their breath that it was unfair those kids got to see him on his birthday and they didn't, while he was their older brother. He didn't want their moods to sour and, after assuring them that their rendition of the song had been far superior, quickly changed the subject. But on the inside, his chest was engulfed with endearment because their sullen faces were far too cute. Although he was craving it so much, the decision to wait with eating the brownie until he logged off seemed to have been the right one, lest they be envious of that too.

Big yawns signalled the twins' bedtime had been surpassed; they'd been so absorbed in conversation they lost track of the clock's minute hand. Saying goodbye to his family always saddened Makoto, but this unexpected moment filled him with such joy that the smile didn't leave his face even after he pressed the 'end call' button.

With a huff of satisfaction, he turned back to Haruka; the amazing Haruka who had arranged all of this especially for him. "Thank you so much, Haru," Makoto said as he took Haruka's hands in his. "This surprise was the best birthday gift I could've wished for. And the brownies are, too!"

"I'm glad you liked it," Haruka said with a smile of his own, "But those aren't my gifts. I have something else for you."

"You do?" Makoto said in astonishment, "You didn't have to, Haru, this was more than enough."

"I didn't have to, but I wanted to," Haruka said as he took out a box from behind the laptop; Makoto hadn't even noticed it. "Here."

The box was small enough to fit in his palm, tied shut with a red ribbon. "Can I open it?"

"That is usually the point of gifts."

Makoto snorted at that remark and tugged at one end of the ribbon, unravelling it and opening the box. When he saw what was inside, a tiny gasp left his lips. On a bed of silk lied a silver keychain with a heart-shaped locket.

"This is beautiful," Makoto said as he took the keychain out of the box, dangling it from his finger and letting the light catch it.

"Pop it open," Haruka said, and when he did, his own heart nearly melted.

Inside of it was a picture of his family and him, taken a few days before his departure. Though the picture was rather small, not only their faces were in view, but also a glimpse of the fully-bloomed cherry tree behind their house.

"Now you can always carry them with you."

It seemed like the older he turned, the more sentimental he got. But he didn't blame himself for the tears that welled back up because this gesture was incredibly thoughtful - not that he expected anything less of Haruka.

"Haru, thank you," Makoto said as he wrapped his arms around Haruka's neck. "This is such a wonderful gift, you have no idea how much this means."

"I think I do," Haruka said, but he returned Makoto's hug all the same. "There's room in the locket for one more picture, so you can decide what else you want to put in there."

"You already know whose picture I'm going to put in it." Makoto leaned his forehead against Haruka's, smile unwavering.

"Happy birthday, Makoto," Haruka murmured, then their eyes fell shut and their lips met in a tender kiss.

Although Makoto missed being with his family on this day, Haruka made up for it tenfold. As long as he had Haruka by his side, Makoto was sure every last one of his birthdays would be as lovely and unforgettable as this one.

[rune-writes]

Holiday Cookies

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Shinra Holiday 2020 » Day 1: Bake it til’ you make it

Word count: 1834

Rating: G

Summary: Elena isn't the best cook. As she is trying to make holiday cookies for Tseng, Reno walks in on her.

Note: A bit late, but here’s my entry for the Shinra Holiday 2020 event. This is also my first time writing the Turks, so hope you enjoy :)

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

“What are you doing?” 

Elena jumped at the sudden voice. Her hand that was stirring another batch of cookie dough jolted to a halt. She knew that voice—that arrogant, half-amused, in perpetual teasing voice. As though he had the entire world in the palm of his hand. Reno stood in the now-open doorway, one brow raised in question. 

How had he found her there? Elena had asked to use the kitchen in the dead of night when all the kitchen staff had gone home. They’d let her, albeit begrudgingly, and lent her the key, making her promise to make sure no one came and stole food from the pantry. Apparently they’d had a case of a thief for several nights, and no, it hadn’t been a rat. 

“Good thing I’m not Tseng, though, right?”

Reno’s scoff brought Elena’s mind back to the situation. At the tilt of her head, Reno made a deliberate scan of the chaotic counter between them. Flour was strewn about, with splashes of milk and butter and egg, and in the center of it all was a plate stacked high with burned cookies. 

Elena’s face went red with mortification. 

“It’s not like no one knows,” Reno went on. “Except Tseng, that is.”

He crossed the kitchen, then sat on a stool he pulled from beneath the counter. He picked a cookie from the top of the stack, burned black and cut into what was supposed to be a gingerbread man, but the edges had crumbled, leaving only a decapitated head. Reno’s smile was crooked, but before Elena could warn him, he had taken a bite off the head. The grimace came almost immediately, his brows scrunched in disgust. 

“What is this?”

Elena looked away and continued stirring the dough, willing her heated face to cool.

“If you’re thinking of giving these to Tseng, I suggest you think twice before—”

“How did you get here?” She cut him mid-sentence. She didn’t need his lecture to know how badly she’d messed up her first batch—and second. And third. Besides, it was two in the morning and she had locked the door. 

“I’m on standby,” Reno replied, as though that justified him visiting the pantry in the middle of the night. “Figured I could swipe a chicken leg or something.” Elena half wondered if he was the one who’d been stealing food, but the thought stopped midway when she heard a soft crunch from behind her. 

Her hand paused. Did he eat another? Those ruined, burned-black, disgusting cookies? Her heart had sunk at the sight of them when she’d pulled the tray out of the oven. But she’d figured the taste mattered more than the appearance and had taken a bite from a tree-shaped cookie. She’d almost gagged. Her second batch had come out still burned, but at least it was edible. Still not enough to present to Tseng, though. 

“You, on the other hand,” Reno went on. Elena glanced at him. He tossed the last of a star-shaped cookie in his mouth, his grin turning wry. “Didn’t expect you to be the sneaky type.”

“What do you mean sneaky?” Reno waved the cookie as if to make a point. Then he eyed the mess on the counter. Elena’s frown deepened. She set her bowl down and turned around to face him, her hands on her hips. “For your information, they let me borrow the kitchen. Unlike someone.”

“At least I didn’t spend a week’s worth of cooking ingredients.” He picked a cookie from the top of the stack, one of the edible-looking ones, and bit into it. His brows drew together, but he still gulped everything down. “Imagine what the chef would say once he sees his storage is empty.”

Reno was exaggerating. Elena was only into her second bag of flour and had only used half a bag of sugar and several eggs. They were only a fraction of what the kitchen staff used daily. She doubted they would even notice. 

“They know I’m making cookies,” Elena said in defense of herself. 

“Bet they didn’t know you’re only just trying it out.” Reno picked another cookie from the plate. He inspected the round and plain chocolate chip, his lips pulled into a deep scowl at the black surface. “Tell me, did you follow a bad recipe, or are you just a plain kitchen disaster?”

“If you don’t have any constructive criticism to give, the door’s that way.”

“I’m just saying.” Reno tossed the cookie back onto the plate before picking another—a cane-shaped cookie with white icing on top. She’d hoped it could have masked the burnt taste, but she’d made the icing too salty. “Don’t be too ambitious if you don’t have any baking experience, and—” Reno swiped at the icing and licked it off his finger. He didn’t bother to hide his revolt. “Don’t mistake sugar with salt, please.” 

That was only one time, though now a bag of icing lay in waste on top of the counter. That would earn her an earful from the head chef. 

Reno exhaled a loud, exasperated sigh. He pushed himself off his stool then moved around the counter, taking the mixing bowl from Elena. “You don’t have enough flour,” he said with a click of his tongue as he tested the gooey consistency of her batter with the spatula. He pinched a little of the batter with his finger, and Elena held her breath as she watched Reno taste it. “At least you used sugar this time.”

“Of course I did!”

He glanced around, then grabbed the measuring cup sitting next to the flour bag. “How many cups of flour did you use?”

Elena bit back her frown as she wondered what Reno was going to do. “Three?” she said. Reno quirked a disbelieving brow at her, and Elena folded her arms. “I followed the recipe okay! It’s not my fault it doesn’t go the way it’s supposed to.”

“Then whose fault is it? The oven?” 

Reno scoffed and reached toward the bag of flour to scoop for another cup. Elena’s eyes grew wide in horror and she was about to stop him. She could do this herself—she had to do this herself. What would be the point if she didn’t make the cookies she would give Tseng tomorrow?

“Just tell him you spent all night at the kitchen,” Reno said, adding half a cup of the flour into the dough through a strainer. He set the cup down, then began mixing the batter. “That’s not exactly a lie.”

“But—” Elena pursed her lips and looked away, ignoring the way her cheeks burned. “Stop reading my mind.”

“Then stop being an open book.”

Elena huffed and gritted her teeth. She could never win against her particularly obnoxious senior.

Reno mixed the batter with the spatula with expert dexterity. He added more flour when the batter was still too viscid, then mixed it some more until the consistency resembled a cookie dough. Elena found herself entranced by the way he moved with ease, the blue in his eyes focused solely on the task at hand.

“Can you really bake?” she asked.

Reno’s laugh surprised her—the sort of startled laughter as if she’d said something stupid. “I’m a Turk,” was all he said, as though that answered everything. She was a Turk herself, but she knew nothing about the kitchen. Though that was nothing new. Her own family had forbidden her to enter the kitchen, even when nobody was home. That was why she had to use the company’s kitchen in the small hours.

What if Reno was only putting on airs and the cookies he made now turned out worse than her own burned batch? What if he was playing her? Elena wouldn’t put it past him. Then Tseng wouldn’t look at her the same way ever again—and not in the way she hoped. 

“You don’t believe me that much?” Elena blinked. Reno was looking at her from the corners of his eyes, a frown playing across his face. “All I want is to save Tseng from getting hospitalized. Now, either you get out of my way or you get me the parchment paper.”

He’d sounded so stern that for a split second, Elena had thought she was on a mission and he was her field superior. She stood at attention, then responded the way she would have as a member of the Turks. It wasn’t until she caught his tiny, teasing grin as she was turning around that she realized he was messing with her. Unease, mixed with exasperation, creeped its way into her heart.

“You’re not pulling my leg, right?”

His delayed answer made her think of the worst. He hadn’t added anything strange into the bowl while she wasn’t looking, had he? She could just imagine Tseng’s expression. The cookie would look good on the outside, but the moment her superior bite into it—the grimace, the disgust, the gag. What if he threw up in front of her? He’d get hospitalized for sure!

“You like him that much, huh?” 

Reno’s eyes were uncharacteristically drawn, a slight crinkle around the corners that made him look... gentle, for once. Teasing still, but kind. In a blink-or-she’d-miss-it moment, his smile turned tender. Then he looked away and resumed his mixing. 

“Relax,” he said. “After tasting your cooking, I fear for Tseng’s life if he has to eat it.” She took offense, her lips pulling into a scowl as a retort formed behind her mouth, but then he said, “Just take it as me trying to express Holiday spirits. I’m being sincere here for once, you know.” 

That was the last thing Elena expected him to say. Holiday spirits? Sincere? Elena never thought those words existed in his vocabulary. For all she knew, her senior’s sincerity only existed on the battlefield when his target stood at the other end of his electro-mag rod. Elena had no reason to trust him, yet she had no reason not to trust him either. Maybe Reno really was doing her a favor. Whatever his reasons had been for visiting the kitchen so late at night, he was here helping her bake cookies when he was supposed to be on standby. Should she take him up on his offer? He’d do things his way no matter what she said.

“Fine,” she finally said. She turned around on her feet, then reached for the parchment papers in the cupboard. She spread it over the counter, but before Reno could scoop the now-thickened dough onto the paper, she held her hand over it, stopping him. “But if Tseng throws up in front of me, I’m going to say you made it for him.”

A pause, in which Reno’s turquoise eyes met her dark brown ones. The grin that spread over his face was almost challenging, but then he laughed a hearty laugh that came from his stomach and shook his shoulders. 

“Deal,” he said, then he scooped the dough onto the parchment. 

~ END ~

[dear-wormwoods]

may I ask for a style fanfic rec list? 🥺🥺🥺

I have a couple of requests for this and I’ve been thinking about how to respond, because to be honest, I very rarely read fic these days. And by ‘these days’ I mean like, since 2014. I always have things I intend to read, but then time goes by and I don’t get around to it. So nothing I’m going to rec is new and you’ve probably already read them fkjds.

Anyway, sorry to be predictable by just being like “read Hollycomb’s fics” but...

The Scenic Route - 116k words, should be rated E for the final two chapters (I literally have no idea why it’s rated T on AO3, it was definitely M when I first read it on ff.net years ago)

Summary: The boys embark on a six day road trip to California before separating for college. Cartman is a pain in the ass, Kenny has no future, Butters is in crisis, and Kyle doesn't know how he'll say goodbye to Stan.

Why you should read it: The yearning. This fic is written entirely in Kyle’s POV, and Holly does such a brilliant job of getting into his head and really capturing that feeling of already mourning a friendship/relationship before it’s even over and kind of intentionally setting the bridge on fire to make what is (seemingly) inevitable hurry along, as if that will make it hurt less (it doesn’t). The first six chapters, the actual road trip portion of the fic (where the T rating actually does apply), are where it is at its strongest, and Kyle’s gradual descent into panicky, angry desperation is painfully real. I can’t stress enough how in character everyone is, each retaining recognizable mannerisms and dynamics from canon while still clearly being grown people entering adulthood. There’s a reason this fic is THE Style fic. 

Leave the Pieces - 251k words, rated E (though that rating only represents a small portion of such a long fic)

Summary: Stan and Kyle meet as strangers in their mid-twenties, shocked to encounter someone else who can't remember the first ten years of his life. They form an instant connection, but only one person in South Park remembers them, and Kenny can't explain why they disappeared or why the rest of the town forgot them.

Why you should read it: It’s a lengthy epic with supernatural elements, a complicated plot that fits right into the show’s universe, and the kind of love that quite literally transcends time, space, and memory. I can’t explain it much further without giving away the plot, but this behemoth is gut wrenching and powerful. It is equal parts a story about Stan and Kyle finding each other as adults and falling in love despite not remembering who they are, or each other, and a deep exploration into Kenny’s character and his curse. Kenny is really the MVP of the story, despite it initially seeming like “just” a Style fic, and his relationship with Wendy is written beautifully and convincingly. One caveat, though: some parts of this fic... I’m not a fan of. I greatly dislike Cartman/Butters just as a concept, and there were times, particularly in the first half of the fic, where I almost quit reading because of their scenes. I also feel like this fic fell victim to fandom’s earlier tendency to mischaracterize Craig as borderline sociopathic (but in contrast, he’s absolutely perfect in Holly’s oneshot Other People’s Tupperware). However, I’m such a sucker for supernatural memory loss not being able to sever soul connections, and Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Wendy’s respective journeys more than make up for my reluctance to stomach Cartman/Butters or other comparatively minor issues. And honestly, everything does fall into place as the plot unfolds, so all I can say is... if you hit certain scenes and think ‘wtf IS this??’, just stick it out, the payoff is worth it, especially if you’re looking for high quality Kenny content.

Amalgamation - 78k words, rated T (but should be rated M imo, because there are sex scenes, though they aren’t very explicit, just intimate)

Summary: In 1862, Kyle's family is forced to move from New York to a tiny mining settlement at the foot of Pike's Peak in Colorado. Kyle is sixteen years old and miserable until he meets Stan, a fellow transplant who has been in town for three years. Their feelings for each other are shadowed by the town's haunted history, and for Kyle the local legends begin to feel more like real nightmares.

Why you should read it: I know ‘1860′s gold mining settlement AU’ doesn’t sound very fascinating, but it is. This is another one that’s written in Kyle’s POV and again Holly does a wonderful job of expressing his emotional turmoil, the guilt and shame he feels, his self-righteousness, and the depth of his love for Stan. Everyone is as they would be if the clock was turned back 150 years, made different by the time period and the demands of their circumstances but still obviously recognizable. The old-timey atmosphere and world-building are so seamless and never feels unrelatable. There are also supernatural/ghost/mystery themes in this one and the fear is palpable.

From the Queen of England to the Hounds of Hell - 170k words, rated E, includes major character death (aside from Kenny)

Summary: Ten years after the execution of Terrance and Phillip, the war with Canada has not ended. Stan and most of Kyle's friends are planning to join the army after high school graduation, bound to be drafted anyway. Kyle doesn't believe in the war, but he's not willing to let Stan go without him.

Why you should read it: This is.... a perfect fic, and I don’t say that lightly. It is quite possibly the ONLY perfect fic I have ever read, in any fandom. I can’t actually describe all the ways in which it’s perfect without giving the plot details away, but, God, if you commit to reading just one of the long-ass fics I’m reccing on this list, make it this one. Please. It honestly makes me mad that this one never got the same attention as like, The Scenic Route, or ‘Night School’ did, because it so deserves to be up there. Only Holly could take the concept of the fucking movie and turn it into a completely devastating, bittersweet, epic romance. There is no caveat here, no ‘I loved it except for this and this’, just thorough, soul-crushing perfection. Just... Kyle. God, Kyle. I can’t elaborate, my heart isn’t up to the task. This fic will haunt me for the rest of my life.

The Ascent of Stan - 32k words, rated E, though it is like 95% domestic fluff

Summary: Stan sells his small pest control company and Kyle thinks they should use some of the money to go to Hawaii, where he proceeds to grill Stan about the mid-life crisis that Stan claims he's not having while their kids frolic nearby.

Why you should read it: This one is everything a domestic fic should be. It basically just chronicles the events of a week-long vacation to Hawaii that nearly-40 Stan and Kyle take with their two kids. This one is written fully in Stan’s POV and it works so well... he’s exactly the kind of dad that I imagine he would be, doing his best to provide for and protect his family’s little bubble and resolving to be better than his father while quietly fighting the lingering shadow of his alcoholism and cynicism. There’s no real conflict in this one, just 30,000 words of a very typical family vacation: not exactly blissful, irritating at times, but ultimately the foundation for perfect memories. 

Never Change - 115k words, rated E

Summary: Thirteen years after his high school girlfriend's pregnancy upended his life, Stan is still in South Park, working with his partner Bebe as a local cop. They're in the process of investigating a series of possibly connected murders when FBI agent Kyle Broflovski returns to town and informs his old friend Stan that this is his investigation now.

Why you should read it: This is equal parts a murder mystery and a romance. It features exactly the kind of Stan/Kyle situation I hate to think about - a decade-long estrangement of their own making that comes to an abrupt end due to extenuating circumstances. It hurts because of how likely it is to happen that way, and it works especially well in this fic because of Stan’s reluctance to embrace his own bisexuality until he’s nearly 30 and Kyle’s tendency to put up walls to protect himself. Also, Bebe features prominently in this fic, which is always a huge bonus.  

Bonus Oneshot Rec:

The Reformation of Fart Boy - 7k words, unrated but probably T, just barely

Summary: Five times South Park has brought Kyle to the brink of sanity and Stan has brought him back.

Why you should read it: I love thinking about the ways in which canon-typical nonsense continues to impact the characters in the long term on a serious psychological level. Kyle has suffered a lot in canon and it’s obvious even in the show that it is gradually changing him and wearing him down, so I really love this fic for focusing on his responses to some of the more traumatic moments, as seen through Stan’s eyes. 

I feel sort of guilty only reccing one author for right now, because there are other fics out there that I liked and am planning on revisiting, but this post is long enough as it is. Chances are you’ve already read some or all of these, but they’re my favorites. I reread all of them while making this list, and they still hit me hard after all these years. 

[bush-viper-cutie]

“The Three Broomsticks” || YEAR 3 – Ch.20 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter                          Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 9/15/2020

Word count: 2, 706

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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Heather stepped out into the road outside of Honeydukes and jumped behind Harry and Hermione, shielding her face from the whipping wind and stinging snowflakes being thrown around them. They quickly ran down the street and entered the tiny inn before they froze in the blizzard.

The bartender woman smiled at them as they entered and went back to serving a loud group of wizards in the back, calming them down with another round of drinks and chips.

“Butterbeer’s two sickles.” Ron opened his hand.

They stuffed their hands in their pockets and pulled out the coins before making their way to a corner table while Ron got the drinks. They slipped in beside a Christmas tree and sat at the table. Heather looked out the window at the blizzard and shivered in her chair.

The inn was nice, far nicer than the Leaky Cauldron, and cozier too. There was a warm fire next to the bar and the heat radiated all the way to their back table in waves that followed the flames.

Ron came back holding two tankards of butterbeer in each hand and sat down next to Heather. “These’ll thaw us down.”

Heather slid her tankard in front of herself and hummed happily, keeping her hands on the warm wood and feeling the blood return to her hands. She tipped it into her mouth and drank the toasty liquid and set the tankard down with a clank.

“That’s amazing!” It was the most delicious drink she’d ever tasted. Better than eggnog even, and she loved sneaking sips from the Dursley’s eggnog cartons.

Now that their lips weren’t so frozen, Hermione reminded them of why they were there.

“Right… So,” Harry started, looking around. He leaned in and waited for them to do the same. “Fred and George gave us a map that shows all the secret passages out of Hogwarts.”

Ron’s jaw dropped. “They what?”

“They said they didn’t need it anymore, having memorized it all and everything,” Heather said quickly, seeing the face of betrayal Ron was making.

“It’s a secret map too, enchanted to look like normal parchment and everything. It’s really amazing.” Harry avoided Hermione’s eyes when speaking, seeing the look of shock wash away and concern replace it.

Hermione turned to Heather. “You’re going to turn that in immediately, aren’t you?”

Heather pressed her lips together, knowing that would be the right thing to do, if only she didn’t find that map incredibly useful, especially since it had come in handy once before and would come in handy way more, now that she was used to the idea of sneaking around the castle. “Well…”

“Well what?” Hermione demanded. “Do you three have any idea how dangerous that map is right now?” She lowered her voice, “With Sirius Black walking around TRYING to get in?”

“Succeeding, remember. He doesn’t need that map,” Ron reminded them.

“Exactly. Besides, if I handed it in, I’d have to tell on Fred and George. I’m sure Filch realized it was gone and would ask me where I got it. They’d get in trouble.”

Heather nodded in agreement, but knowing that was a horrible excuse. “And, Hermione, do you really think Professor Dumbledore doesn’t know about any of these passages? He knows everything about the castle – ”

“Except the Chamber of Secrets,” Hermione crossed her arms.

“R-right… but that’s different…” she bit her lip and looked to Ron for help.

“Uh,” Ron started. “A-and they came in through Honeydukes! We’d’ve heard about a break-in there if he knew about the secret passage they took.”

They all looked at Hermione who did not seem very happy but couldn’t argue against all of them.

Ron finished the discussion by pointing to a notice posted to the window, reminding them all of the dementors roaming around the village after sundown. “He’d have to break into Honeydukes during the day or risk getting caught by those things at night.”

Heather gasped suddenly, as she spotted emerald green robes walk past the window. There was a rush of air that pulled on their hair as the door opened with a ding of the bell and closed behind Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Hagrid, and Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

Ron and Hermione pushed Harry and Heather under the table, hiding them from view. Heather watched their feet walk over to the bar, turn, and walk towards them. She heard Hermione whisper ‘Leviosa’ at the Christmas tree, levitating it several inches off the ground. Heather quickly took out her wand and whispered ‘Mobiliarbus’, helping Hermione move it over to cover their table.

Through the thick lower branches of the decorated tree, she saw four sets of chair legs move back at the table right besides theirs and heard creaks as they all sat down in their seats. A pair of sparkly high heels came clacking down to them.

“Gillywater, Minerva?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Four pints of mulled mead?”

“Ta, Rosemerta,” said Hagrid.

“Dry cherry soda?”

“Thank you, thank you!” Professor Flitwick squeaked.

“Your rum then, Minster.”

“Rosemerta, thank you m’dear. Won’t you take a break and join us? It’s lovely to see you again.”

“I’d love to, Minster.” There was a final thump and another chair got pulled back. The sparkly heels moved in front of the chair legs one at a time and with a creak of the chair, Rosemerta sat down.

It was the last weekend of term for the teachers too, and it looked like they were going to enjoy their time in Hogsmeade with the rest of the students. Heather looked to Harry, both knowing this meant they’d have little to no time to make it back to Honeydukes before it closed at sundown.

“What brings you down here, Minister?” said Rosemerta.

There was a pause and in a hushed tone, Cornelius Fudge responded. “I’m on the business of Sirius Black, m’dear. You heard what happened up at the school on Halloween, did you?”

“There’s been rumors.”

“If by rumor you mean Hagrid…” Professor McGonagall sighed.

“Is Black really still in the area? Is that why you’re down?”

“I’m absolutely certain of it.”

Hermione lightly kicked them after hearing the Minister’s words.

“Which means the dementors will be staying,” Rosemerta sounded annoyed. “They searched my pub twice last week – scared nearly everyone away.”

“I am sorry about that, m’dear. I don’t like them any more than anyone else does – those awful creatures – but they are necessary to keep everyone safe. I’ve just met a few and, well they’re in quite a mood. Dumbledore won’t let them in the castle and – ”

“And why would he?” Professor McGonagall cut in. “How can we teach with those horrifying things floating around above our heads? You know how many wizards experience severe reactions to them. Let alone young students.”

“Oh absolutely could not teach with them in my classroom,” Flitwick agreed.

“Yes. But however true that is, the dementors serve a purpose. They protect from something much, much worse. Remember what Black’s capable of.”

“We remember,” came Hagrid’s somber voice.

“I still can’t believe it. All these years and I just can’t,” Rosemerta sighed. “Sirius Black… of all people? I remember him and his friends back when they went to school… If you’d’ve told me any one of them could turn to the Dark Side I’d’ve said you had too much to drink.”

“You know he’s far worse than people realize.”

“What’s worse than murdering all those people, Minister?”

“You remember his best friend, don’t you, Rosemerta?” Professor McGonagall asked.

Rosemerta laughed. “How could I not? They were joined at the hip! Thick as thieves those, two. There was never one in here without the other. Oh, and they were the funniest pair of kids I’ve ever had in here. Quite the double act, those two… Sirius Black and James Potter… What boys they were.”

Heather choked on her breath. She squeezed her mouth between her elbow and coughed. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. She stared at the sparkly heels and shook her head.

“A couple of troublemakers those two, but exceptionally bright – very bright minds. They were the ringleaders of their little gang. Those four…” Professor McGonagall trailed off.

“They were all good as brothers,” Professor Flitwick added.

Professor McGonagall continued. “Inseparable. He was best man at James’ wedding… In fact, James made Sirius godfather to his children.”

Rosemerta’s gasp echoed that of Heather and Harry’s. Why hadn’t they been told any of this? That’s why everyone was so weirdly intense about it all around them. That’s why Mr. Weasley thought they’d go looking… Because Sirius Black was they’re father’s best friend.

“Can’t imagine how that’d torment them to know,” Hagrid murmured.

“Because Black was on the opposite side as James? Black was in league with You-Know-Who?”

“Worse, m’dear. Far worse,” Fudge spoke up. “The Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore had many useful spies, and one of them tipped him off about it and he immediately alerted the Potters. He told them their best chance at hiding from You-Know-Who was the Fidelius Charm.”

“What’s that?”

“The Fidelius Charm,” Professor Flitwick put on his teaching voice. “Is a complex spell that conceals a secret inside of a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside that person and is impossible to find… unless that secret keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the secret-keeper never opens their mouth, the information could be right under your nose and you’d never find it in your lifetime or after.”

“The Potters made Black their Secret-keeper then?” Rosemerta whispered.

“Of course,” Professor McGonagall tapped her foot. “Naturally. Dumbledore offered to be the Secret-Keeper for them… but James told him that Black would rather die than reveal their location, that Black said he’d go into hiding for them… Dumbledore was still worried, however.”

“Did he suspect Black?” Rosemerta asked Heather’s question.

“He suspected someone among them – someone close to them – was keeping You-Know-Who informed. Everywhere the Potters hid, Death Eaters were not far behind.”

“And yet he insisted on having Black as his Secret-Keeper?”

“He trusted him,” whispered Harry.

Heather turned to him and stared into his eyes. He was too focused to notice.

“He did,” Fudge said slowly. “That only lasted a week of course… Just a week after the Fidelius Charm was performed… Black turned them into You-Know-Who sometime that week. Of course, little did You-Know-Who know that’d he’d meet his downfall facing little Harry Potter. All weak and powerless, he fled and died who knows where. With no master, Black was put in a very serious position. He was a traitor with nowhere else to go.”

Hagrid growled. “I met him that day. I musta bin the last to see him! I went down to rescue Harry an’ Heather from their house. It was me what took them to safety. I’d gotten there, seen all that ruin an’-an’ their parents lyin’ on the floor in front o’them… Harry with a big gash on his forehead. Then here comes Sirius Black, in that flyin’ muggle motorbike. He was all white an’ shakin’ in his boots, he was. AN’ I COMFORTED THAT MURDERIN’ TRAITOR!” Hagrid roared.

“Shhhhhh.” Professor McGonagall kicked him under the table.

“He wanted them, y’know. He asked me for them. But I said no. I’d had me orders to get them to their aunt and uncle’s house. He gave me his bike ter use. Said he wasn’t needin’ it no more.”

“It would have been too easy for the Ministry to trace,” Fudge said.

“At least the Ministry caught him next day,” Rosemerta said after a long pause.

“If only we had. One of their friends, Peter Pettigrew got to him before we did. Furious at him for betraying them. Fought Black as soon as he found him…”

“He had always been a poor duelist,” said Professor McGonagall heavily.

“Took a team of highly trained Hit Aurors from Magical Law Enforcement to take him down. I was a junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes… It was a sight to see. The giant crater and Black standing there… right in the center standing over bloody robes and… the remains.”

There was a long pause.

“Well, there it is, m’dear. Took twenty squad members to bring him into Azkaban, where he stayed for twelve years.”

“But he must be mad now, spending all that time in Azkaban.”

“You’d think that. No, I met him my last visit to Azkaban… Everyone else normally sits in their cell, muttering wildly to themselves, rocking back and forth, staring at the walls… Not Black. He spoke to me quite clearly. So normal, it was unnerving. He asked for my newspaper, ha! Must’ve been bored… How he managed to stay sane is beyond me. He was the most heavily guarded… dementors posted outside his door and barred window day and night.”

There was another pause and a clink of glass on wood.

“Minister, if you’re dining with the Headmaster today, we should get going,” said Professor McGonagall.

One by one they all got up and pushed in their chairs. Professor McGonagall’s emerald green robes swung back into place just at her ankles and slowly everyone but Rosemerta left the inn.

There was a flurry of snow that had blown in as the door swung closed, and Harry and Heather stayed sitting there in shocked silence. Heather was shaking her head, unbelieving everything they’d just said. She pushed everything away, hating it all. She hated knowing about her parents and their past, hating thinking they existed without them.

They were names and words, sounds without meaning. And now she knew her father had a best friend, and a group of loyal friends… and he was a troublemaker and a brilliant wizard and… he’d trusted his bestest friend with his life… and the life of his family… ‘Quite the double act, those two’… She shook her head again.

“Heather?”

“Harry?”

Heather and Harry looked up at Hermione and Ron, poking their heads down to check on them. The tree had been moved back and it was clear to come out. They sat back in their seats and sipped the butterbeer in silence. Ron and Hermione never spoke a word the rest of the time.

“We should head back,” Harry pushed his empty tankard away.

Everyone nodded and they slowly got up. They exited the Three Broomsticks and ran back to Honeydukes. They were told they were closing soon and the first chance they could, Heather and Harry snuck back down to the cellar, leaving Ron and Hermione standing worried and awkward alone at the door.

The tunnel walk back to the castle was quiet between them. She knew Harry had a million questions and wanted to talk to her. He kept glancing at her as they walked in the light of their wands, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the rocky ground.

When they were younger, she had always rejected the idea that their parents had died in a car crash. She’d told Harry stories about how they were simply dust clumps come to life for the sole purpose of annoying the Dursleys. And now she couldn’t stop thinking of two young boys running around Hogwarts, throwing dung bombs in the halls and getting yelled at by Filch. About a boy that looked very much like Harry, wearing ruby red robes and flying around in the Quidditch Pitch. About people laughing at his jokes.

She was brought back from her thoughts by Harry asking for the spell to open the witch up again. She mumbled the spell and let him lead her out.

In no time at all she was lying on her bed, face buried in her pillow, trying not to think about what James Potter would have been like as a father. He was a bright wizard… would he have been proud of her? She crawled under the covers and stayed there through dinner.

In the end, she decided it made no difference. She closed her eyes for bed as the other girls blew out their candles. If she didn’t care what her grandparents or great, great, great grandparents were like, why should she care what they were like?

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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@lokilover-39

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@lady-of-black-roses

@writingmi

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[ashtcnirwin]

god typing your url is always so hard for me i don't know why but i always want to type ashtocn ANYWAY how about this: gimme a director's cut for jalex in paris, change my mind fic, or makeup artist ashton fic. yes those are the three you wrote for me. i'm giving you the option to only break down one of them if you don't wanna have to dig into all three. but like you can hit all three if you wanna! go crazy. whatever floats your boat. love youuu xoxo bella

you and me both, i keep spelling it as aschtnirwin whenever i have to type it out🤡

hmm giving me choices... i like that, thank u miss bella! i haven’t really talked much about any of these fics (that i can remember), and i can’t quite make up (heh heh) my mind (heh heh) so i’ll just do all three and here’s to hoping i can keep it at least a little bit short

⭐ we’re doing director’s cut of fics guys⭐

jalex in paris aka we go together (or we don’t go down at all)

writing this fic was really hard in one way because i’d never written a fic for a fandom that i barely knew anything about, and i remember that i spent that whole morning/early afternoon looking at atl interviews and miscellaneous vids to get a tiny teeny grasp of their vibes. and it’s like...when you’re part of a fandom, you keep picking up all these little pieces of information about whatever/whoever it is you’re a fan of, things that you won’t find on a wiki page or anything, but to try and pick up all those little details in one day just wasn’t gonna happen obviously. 

i think you, bella, commented on smth in the fic, a little detail or smth that didn’t add up with the real people, and i never went back to fix it (cos it just...didn’t matter to the story at all really) but i remember thinking to myself like “ah fuck...okay making little mistakes like that is really irritating cos if this was 5sos (or 1d for that matter) i’d never ever make a mistake like that”, yk?

anyway, i love paris a lot, i’ve been there a few times, and i’d been meaning to write you some jalex for a while when...either sam or meghna said smth about jalex in paris, and i thought...yeah...i can do that...mhm. so i did. and you know me, i’m usually all about the angst and the emotional torture and the heartbreak and all that stuff, BUT in addition to this fic being written for you and i know you’re all about the easy love, writing this as angsty or have jalex have a bigass argument over their relationship or anything like that just didn’t feel right AT ALL. 

in my mind at least, the combination of how jalex act irl, both as individuals and as a duo, and the general vibe i was going for in the fic, the easy love-path was the only thing that made sense. it was just like...they spent a day wandering around paris, being a little chaotic, and ended with them sitting at a restaurant in the early evening, waiting for their dinner, and then jack just being like “are we on a date?”, totally casual, and then that was it, sort of. no conflict, no long conversation, no colliding expectations, etc etc, and it was lovely to write.

(but ofc, in true me-fashion, i had to throw SOMETHING in there, hence the nods towards a fwb-arrangement)

(in my defense, if it wasn’t for that, there never would’ve been a ‘is this a date?’-question tho so)

and i really, really enjoyed writing this piece, far more than i thought i would, and getting to write about parisian vibes (and cute boys complaining about awfully hot parisian summer weather) was just...i felt like a soft boiled egg by the time i finished and posted it😌

change my mind-fic aka we dance along

would you believe that this was the first fic i ever wrote that was inspired by a song? actually, so far it’s the only song-inspired fic i’ve written, i haven’t written another one since. why haven’t i? it was so much fun...huh 

well i’m a wh*re for 1d, i was deep into the fandom back in the heyday, and this song was my sad jam back when tmh came out, so writing a fic for it eight years later and for a different fandom was...it felt a little odd, ngl, especially since i wrote it as non-au? which would indicate that 1d exists in this universe? and that 5sos went on tour with them? i don’t think i put a direct timestamp on the fic, but they were in stockholm when the events of the fic went down and it was established that they were in sheffield a week prior, so that would have been the myt tour, so...yeah, they would have toured with 1d a few years prior, and now they’re hanging out, drunk, in an hotel room, speaking in 1d lyrics? that’s a vibe

just like the jalex in paris-fic, there’s easy love here, too. i think i said something in the club a little while back (it might have been in response to...nik asking for general writing tips?) about how sometimes, people just...do things, they don’t think it through, they don’t stress out about it or anything; they want something and they go for it, and it just isn’t deeper than that. not everything has to be super fucking deep, right?

and i remember thinking as i was getting started on writing malum’s whole conversation about what went down in sheffield, that if any 5sos ship was gonna hook up and then a week later be like “ykw? i like you, i liked kissing you, i liked hooking up with you, so let’s just run with it and see where it takes us” with just a brief, minor freakout and not getting themselves into a whole pining, angsty situation over it, it would be malum. cos the basic premise of this fic COULD have been turned into an angsty slow burn, no doubt, but it made sense to me to drop the argument all together and just go for a soft and easy conversation

makeup artist ashton au aka something old, something new

ah awkward, nervous luke...loml. this one was SO FUCKING HARD to write for the sole reason that idk shit about makeup, like i’m literally barely able to paint my own face without ending up looking like heath ledger in the dark knight, u feel? had it only been hairdresser!ashton. i know way more about hair. well anyway doesn’t matter.

it’s been so long since i wrote that fic now (or, it feels like it’s been super long, in all actuality it’s only been like half a year) and i wrote it so quickly that i can’t remember a lot about my thought process as i wrote it, tbh?

the only thing that stands out to me is the line in the fic that goes, “He chooses to not say anything about the fact that it’s the judgement he’s passing on himself that’s the main problem.” because while i’m obviously not gonna sit here and speak for everyone else, i often find that when i make a big change in my life, be it with my looks or my job or my studies or in personal relationships or whatever else, i tend to be more focused on judging myself for whatever it is i just did than i am on whatever judgement other people may be passing on me.

i wrote luke as being super nervous and unsure about asking ashton to put makeup on him, but his nerves definitely came more from being scared of taking that step than from worrying about other people judging him. i didn’t elaborate on it in the fic as far as i can remember, but i imagine that the reason he was so nervous was that he was scared of taking another leap away from traditional masculinity and what it might lead to. i feel like...a part of him was hoping that he wouldn’t like his face with makeup on, simply because then he could take it all off and carry on with his life, but well, that didn’t happen. he’s a pretty boi, even prettier with makeup.

also, in hindsight, i realise that this is one of those fics that could have been left pairing-less and it wouldn’t really have changed the story much at all. the focus of the fic was very much on luke, not as much on the interactions between him and ashton, and i think the main reason why i did include some flirting (or, clumsy attempts at flirting at least (luke just going ‘hey do u have snapchat? pls? i wanna talk to u more)) was that it’s become more or less second nature to me when writing fic to include at least a nod or two towards a romantic relationship?

yeah i did not manage to keep any of these particularly short? surprise surprise but thank u bella for giving me the chance to talk abt these fics that i have a tendency to forget abt, ily🧡