#not mean spirited like sending cursed posts or whatever

[theminecraftbee]

still really funny to me that we it can be argued that the maid dress thing becoming TRADITION was martyn’s fault. because originally it was a joke about a thing he said on stream that… escalated. but then he said it was tumblr’s natural defense system. and we all went. actually YEAH IT WILL BE. and now it is because it is funny. thank you martyn,

[zzencat]

Paid Readings Info!! - zzencat

-> Last updated: October, 2024 PST

Confidential + Personal + Raw + Clarification + Advice + Some readings may include potential 18+ material

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Teddy Opening: Hey guys!! So this is everything you need to know for personal paid readings. Why pay? You will help in supporting me in my daily life and I hope to support you in yours with guidance, reflection, advice, help with your introspection, and whatever else 😎👍

*** About Language: English is the primary language I’ll be using. This includes some English slang, abbreviations, or curse words. If you need clarification on anything or help understanding what I mean, PLEASE DON’T EVER HESITATE TO ASK 😎👍 Ask and I’ll be happy to help you understand in any way that I can. No, you’re not a burden or a bother. You can count on me. No judgment whatsoever. (If you struggle with English and you’re worried about how your English, it’s 999999% fine with me. I’ve had many clients whose first language was not English. We’ll work it out, I promise. My parents don’t speak English as their first language either, so I grew up learning how to communicate to where you can understand.)

• My readings are sent through email or Tumblr DM, and are in the form of PDFs from Google Docs (unless the answers in the readings are shorter than a page or 2; then I’ll send the answers directly through dm or email.)

• Regular paid readings take 1-7 days maximum to complete upon payment. For Packages, please allow up to 7-8 days max. I will be transparent with you about how much time and how much I’ve finished for any reading.

1) First and foremost, you HAVE to be a follower of my blog and you have to have seen my readings before.

Why? Because I need you to be familiar with how I do my readings—which include of bullet points, hella commentary and extra notes from the Teddy + spirit team pov (which can be funny, helpful, or both), some slang, cursing, and letting my spirit team ramble. A lot of the info is blunt and very no bullshit. (Bear w/ me; I got the Queen of Swords on my spirit team lmfao 😂) My readings could get a bit long, thorough, and maybe overly detailed, varying from the info I receive. My body serves as a host for my Spirit guides, and connecting with Spirits :)

Make sure you read through my Quick Starters Post (it’s pretty short n simple). Keep in mind that tarot readings are a tool for clarity, and not an all seeing eye. Everything is susceptible to change. Time is fluid, and nothing is fixed. The readings are based on your energy now.

***When to request? You can request at any time. (I’m in the PST timezone so if I don’t respond to you, that’s because I’m sleeping or doing summer hw. I always respond within 24 hours tho!)

Where + How?: You can dm me on Tumblr or email me ( teddiebearrr69@gmail.com), and state the reading number that you’d like. Your reading will be received within 7 days (unless some issue comes up, then I’ll let you know. If it’s late, no later than an extra day.) and I’ll send you the PayPal link where the money will go through. You will choose 3 photos out of a pile of 9 (that I have chosen for you.) The decks I frequently use: Everyday Witch (primary), Tarot of Sexual Magic, RWS (circular edition)! Oracle cards will be pulled if I need more info, advice, or further clarification.

***ALSO IMPORTANT, if you’d like me to do readings for you, please leave your door OR window open at any point of our session (for at least a couple of hours.) You may close when you’ve received your reading. This helps me connect with your Spirit team better :)

Readings I do are belowowowow👇

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• • • • • Readings (for now) • • • • •

Reading #1 (and also my most requested reading):

(*For Singles*) Future Spouse (with optional brief 18+ section) | $8 USD

Note: This is different from final spouse bc I can’t say whether you will or won’t face divorce/separation 😅). However, I can give you a vibe of where it’s headed. (Prepare yourself!!)

HEAVY DISCLAIMER: We will take a look into your past and your future lover’s past to see if there should be any trauma to be worked on. This means we will potentially cross very private and vulnerable information on both yours and your lover’s side.

↳ We will cover:

• their current energy now—if you met now vs when you meet later.

• positive and negative aspects of this person/relationship, and how this can develop (pos or neg.) over time (with examples. Like I said, these readings will be similar to the ones I have posted but a lot more in depth and personalized.)

• rockiness and toxicity within the relationship; what to expect while dating; how you both can help improve the relationship; a look into their past selves (relationship, hardships, IF THEY ALLOW THIS INFO TO BE TOLD, but I will try to reason with them.)

• things they need to work on before and after meeting you + what you can do to prepare for this person coming in

• how will you recognize them + how they will recognize you

• their possible occupations at the moment and later — basically where they’re at in life ( + emotionally)

• overall advice for both you + future spouse

🔓 $2.44 USD to unlock: a brief, general overview of sexual relationship + potential kinks. there will be a small deal of vulgar language and graphic descriptions. BUT the 18+ section here is not as detailed as #2.

***PLEASE KEEP IN MIND !!!!! that I will give you “warnings” here and there, and will be transparent if their inner child or spirit guides do not want me discussing some issues/does not want me going in depth.

This is how you’ll get an idea or hint on what they might be secretive about, and personally, this isn’t a good sign, especially if they’re likely to hide mistakes. I would advise you pay attention to these *cryptic* areas, because those are where the bigger problems are at. Yes, some are insecure about it, but that just means they have some work to do. The more open they are about their past, the better. It shows maturity and a desire for growth, and that they won’t hide if they’ve messed up somewhere. That’s a good sign to me.

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Reading #2:

(18+) What does your sexual relationship say about your overall relationship? - Next Partner/Final Spouse | $7 USD

↳ We will uncover:

• Your person’s 18+ thoughts/fantasies from your first meeting/impression to developing friendship to newly dating stage.

• What will lead to your first time with them, feelings + emotions on their side, what will happen during the act?

• Their feelings/overall sex life mood when you’re both comfortable with each other (including yours!) Stagnancy? Contentment? Needs more spice? Sexual conflicts?

• Their kinks!!! Graphic imagery and descriptions, but not at a smut novel level haha (maybe tho…depends on the cards and context)

• Fears and how to improve the relationship, where it could go wrong

• Honestly this reading could get suuuper thorough real quick- hopefully your partner gives me permission to pry heheh 🙂‍↕️

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Reading #3:

(18+) What Your Sexual Energy Says About Your Past + How To Achieve Peace in Your Life | $7.44 USD

↳ We will uncover:

Intrusive-ish reading to an extent. It shouldn’t be too bad (I hope...) But there’s no need to be embarrassed! (I used to write smut lmfao)

This is where I will do a regular card reading for you to see where you are, mainly relying on my Sexual Magic deck (which is cleansed before each reading.)

• your desires/hidden fantasies (now + possibly future) and potentially why you have them

This reading lets us know where you are in your life, what blockages or concerns your subconscious is facing and how this affects your daily life and even future.

Note: I personally like doing sexual readings and they come out very accurately since my sacral chakra and sensuality is so essential to me as…well, me hahaha. My highest good keeps me in high sexual energy, which is probably why I connect to the Tarot of Sexual Magic deck so well :)

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Reading #4:

“I’m Still Feeling Stuck. Where Did This Come From? What can I do about it?” (95% Trauma based.) | $6 USD

↳ We will uncover:

If you‘ve seen my reading on stagnancy or reading on little things to uplift your life, this will be pretty the same BUT more in depth and in accordance to your energy. It’ll be personalized to you 🤗

advice!!

I think the messages do need to be taken seriously so if you learn a bit about yourself in this reading, I’d be seriously happy.

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Reading #5:

Wtf happened in my past life? What did I do to deserve this? Can I still turn things around? / Past Life Reading | $7 USD

↳ We will uncover:

One of my favorite concepts ever. We all wonder where we went wrong to go through such hurt in this life. Wtf exactly happened? You and I will unlock what and who you possible were, your occupation(s), family life/relationships, conflicts, romantic relationship(s), potential betrayals, life lessons your soul carried from that life to this one. This can also be read as just a past life reading!!

Approx. 10-12 questions asked about past life during reading

What can you learn from? What can you let go and move on?

Or perhaps…this is your first life? What lessons do you need to learn in this life?

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Reading #6:

A question and some advice (can get pretty deep depending on the person.) | $3 USD/per question. You can ask any question of your choice (read “no questions about” for more info), as many questions as you’d like, but each question is $3 USD., relating to a specific situation or different things.

❌ No questions about: if you and [celebrity] will date 😂😂, altho you can ask about what your compatibility would be! Singular future spouse, warning, or what to look forward to, 18+ questions in your current/future relationship are welcome. No death-related or specific physical + mental illness/disease questions please.

Feel free to reach out for further questions or details, or if you’re confusion as to what you can or can’t ask! And please don’t feel embarrassed (I’ve seen it all fam ✋🥲)

One of my readers,🫀(on feedback), has become a regular and a friend of mine!! She’s asked if it was okay to do an anime character relationship compatibility between her and said character with her personal list of prompts/questions!! Pricing varies based on how many questions there are. | $3 USD / question

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Reading #7:

Warnings in the near future based on your current energy? (within 3 months to a year from now) - $4.44 USD

↳ We will uncover:

• advice, how to see it when it comes, what to look forward to, what’s likely to happen?

+ $3.22 USD to unlock: Your prediction sounding kinda rough? How can I likely prevent it? Can I change it or do I need to go through this?

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Reading #8

“Okay, be honest. Does this person like me? Do I stand a chance with them? Are they the right person for me?” - $8 USD

↳ We will uncover:

• applies to situationships, potential partners, the person on your mind, secret admirers, unrequited love

• get ready for honesty right here babyyyy (if you buy this reading, ya gotta brace yourself. I’m telling you here and now and when you dm me as well!!)

• things they need to work on before they’re ready for commitment

• How will I know if they’re the one?

• red and green flags about your person

• personalized advice to you

+2 USD to unlock: How do they see me in general?

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Reading #9

(Single or Currently Seeing Romantically) Future Spouse’s Past Life!! - $7 USD

• Refer back to reading #5 about your past life!! Everything there is applied here but about your future spouse this time!

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-> Introducing Packages! :

1) Cat-Sees-All Package - $26

↳ We will uncover:

• reading #1 - future spouse reading (optional brief 18+ section)

• reading #5 + #9 - past life reading on yourself

• overall advice

Disclaimer: these can get heavy realllllly quickly. My future spouse ones are usually extensive and deep anyway (especially since we look into more subconscious and past issues/trauma so I suggest you grab some popcorn. Maybe some tissues too if you need.

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2) LENZ Package - $24 (minors dni)

↳ We will uncover:

• dark, sensitive, mature and potentially triggering material

• this is pretty much a combination of readings #3 + #4, but we tap into your future spouse’s/lover’s sexual energy/preferences/lifestyle as well yours through kinks!!

• figuring out significant events in yours and their childhood and if trauma has played a role on your daily life and theirs; AND both yours + their individual feelings/energy/view towards and of sex (including deep rooted trauma)

• how sex preferences heal their inner child + how your sex preferences heal yours

• how do they seek this in daily, normal behavior and communication with others + how do you seek it? how does this seep into your daily lives?

• overall advice

🔓 + 2 USD to unlock: Will you be able to heal your wounds together through sex? What is it about you that attracts your partner, personality and sex-wise?

Disclaimer: this is also a really deep reading that includes psychological factors and sensitive topics, so if you’re an empath or are sensitive to this material in general, you might wanna take a couple breathers and come back. It can get pretty dark and negative as well, so I recommend that you don’t get to your reading until the end of the day or when you’re certain nothing can ruin your day.

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3) Custom Package!!

• here, you’ll be able to create you own list of questions (within the boundaries ofc- rmr, nothing about death, illness, politics, etc.) | $3 per question

this is catered towards those who have very specific questions they want answered, anything they’re curious about that hasn’t been answered in the “we will uncover” section of the readings! This allows for modifications or adjustments to be made in order to create the best list of questions well suited for you 😎👍

Ex) 5 questions = $15 USD

7 q’s = $21 USD, etc., etc….

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-more coming soon…brr brrr

**Constructive feedback is heavily encouraged so pls lemme know how it was for you, how it resonated, however many paragraphs you’d like. I’m happy to talk about it w you!! No judgment here.

- Teddy :)

[enterpris]

Pairing: Reader x Gojo

Summary: Cursed energy has many expressions- inherited techniques, reversals and maximums. 

Occasionally, cursed energy of a sorcerer will react with another sorcerer’s cursed energy, or perhaps their soul. In these cases, a bond is formed that can tie families together, increase power, or spark love.

When your soulmate is discovered, you have to decide what the bond will mean

Warnings: Moderate swearing, exercise, soulmate au

Length: 3.1k  Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Ao3: PlaidSparrow

Spending so much time in the depths of the archives has given you a new appreciation for breathing dust-free air. It’s crowded and dim and horribly under-cleaned, but at least it’s also quiet.  

You're tempted down into the archives in the morning after breakfast or once you're off call, this time for a purpose grander than your romantic life. Something in your gut says that the records from the missions you and Ippei were injured will be more insightful when compared with older “typical” mission notes. If it’s a recent trend to get wrong information in your mission notes, you can press the director team. Or you'll find there's nothing to worry about, and that Grades and numbers of curses have always been mistaken sometimes. 

You know there’s a host of protected areas and additional information below the school- there's got to be historical case records buried somewhere among the decrepit school notes. 

Today is only the second or third visit looking specifically for older case notes, but so far you haven’t found any records you want. Shifting the boxes to search leaves dust motes swirling through the air, and it seems like any move you make sends them flying again. 

You’d seen case records when you were searching for the marks, you know you had, but whatever documents did exist seem to have folded themselves back into the boxes and files, absorbed into the whole of the archive. 

Between all of your collective visits, it feels like you’ve searched thousands of documents already, but in reality you’ve covered a small corner of the total archive. You skim page after page, and set the rejected files into boxes neatly on the side, which will hopefully prevent you from losing track of any other papers. Perhaps by the time you’re done the place will be organized. 

Each day you sit sifting through ancient ledgers, thin academic records, and school history, and it’s another week before you come across the first box of case files. They’re nearly 25 years old, but they contain both the pre- and post-mission notes, and they'll at least give you a place to start. 

After that, every moment is a productive one. The days pass quickly, as you compare the initial notes with the end results, looking for any examples that are grossly different. Even though the air is stale, you’re more invigorated and motivated than you have on any recent assignments. This data should at least show you whether anything is markedly different from the past, or if this is the status quo.    

You skim the next file. There have been some cases where the suspected grade was wrong by a level or there was more than one spirit involved, but in the records you’ve read thus far, most of the final case records are aligned with the initial report. So why are there such huge inconsistencies happening now? 

You sigh and scrub your eyes. If there even is something going on now. Before you can be sure there is a real measurable difference, you’ll have to dig deeper and compare data from a larger time frame. With all of the evidence prepared that way, it should be enough to make a case to Ijitchi, see if he’s noticed the same, or if any surveyors or sources have changed for gathering information.  

The next box might contain something useful, you've got to tell yourself that, otherwise it'll be too tempting to return upstairs. Might as well move on to the next one. 

“It seems like you’ve been spending a lot of time down here.” 

You start at the voice behind you. When you look up, Gojo is standing near the entrance of the archives, peering down into one of the open boxes. You must’ve lost yourself in reading- people hardly ever visit the record rooms, so you hadn’t expected company. 

It’s a moment before you process his words- he’s noticed you spending time down here. Has he needed to do some searching of his own? You’re not quite sure what he does all day, but if he needs records for a student or a mission of his own, it would take precedence over your hunch. 

“Do you need the archive to yourself? I’ve gotten a good sense on how things are organized if you’re looking for something specific.”

The boxes near the front were related to academic records, nothing there should tip him off to what you’ve been researching. 

“Nah, not really. It seems like you’re looking for something though.” He turns towards you.

In the low lights and with his blindfold on, you hope he doesn't notice your hands tighten on the file. When you respond, you try to keep your tone light and natural. Technically there isn’t anything that prevents sorcerers from the records, it’s just a bit uncommon. “I’m just doing some research.”

“Oh yeah? Doesn't seem like people really look through these unless they're looking for something specific. You doing more work on that ‘passion project?’”

He plucks one of the papers out of the box and regards it casually. 

“I'm just curious. But I was about to head out anyway, so I'll leave you to it.” 

After placing the file carefully back in the appropriate box, you start for the exit. If you can keep your pace slow and don’t act guilty, it shouldn't give him any reason to suspect you. 

“I just mean, you’re coming down here all the time. Seems like you’re looking for something specific.”

You swallow and can feel your face heat. Something in his voice is less friendly than when he addressed you in the library, and he clearly doesn’t want you to go without telling him what you’ve been working on. The dust and towering boxes feel a little claustrophobic.

His voice still has a teasing quality, but there’s a harshness now that wasn’t there before. You stop a couple steps from the door. 

“Like maybe that mark on your shoulder? Someone might even be fooled into thinking you’re curious, looking for your other half. Don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

The heat in your cheeks has progressed to sweat beading all over your body. Gojo had been one of the people to see your mark, you recall, but why would he mention it now?

“It’s not a crime to be curious,” you say, keeping your voice light and eyes on the boxes in front of you. He was there the day you got injured, you remember now that he had run out of the medical area. 

It’s been over a week since you did look at anything related to your soulmark, and you’re not sure whether this conversation is any better than if he’d confronted you about what you’re actually searching for. But as soon as the thought crosses your mind, you see this for the opportunity it is. 

“It’s normal to be interested, it’s on my body after all.”

He snorts and you stop, a few meters away from him and the door. It’s better to have him thinking that’s what you’re researching, and if you’re going to sell this, you’ve got to lean into the embarrassment and keep the conversation focused. “There doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of information about the marks. Do you know anything about them?” You ask. 

If he'd taken the time to notice the mark in the moments he'd seen your bare shoulder, maybe he's got some insider knowledge.

“It just might be more trouble than it's worth. You might have someone from the Kamo clan scoop you up and marry you off.”

You glance up at him- he’s put down the paper and seems to have taken your admission at face value. And Gojo is one of the major clans- he might have more knowledge in his head about the marks than is contained in the whole campus. 

“Is that how it works in the big three?” Despite trying to maintain your casual tone, you regret asking as soon as the words are out of your mouth. 

“Who could say? I'm not married to one of them,” Gojo's voice is still bright. “You should think some more about whether it’s worth it though. To know.” 

He leans casually against the nearest stack, a long barrier to the exit. Then he tugs his blindfold down and you see the entirety of his face for the first time. His eyes are electric blue, and right now they’re piercing. 

He looks down on you and you’re frozen by the emotion on his face. It’s intense and serious, a complete departure to how you’d seen him in the library and the way his voice sounds. It makes you uneasy, the hair on your arms raises. 

It’s time to find a way out of here.  

“It’s not like it really matters. I’ll probably never find whoever I’m bonded to anyway.” You look away from his face and give a little shrug, then start to step towards the exit.

He huffs, a half laugh from his nose. 

“Don’t be too sure about that.”

Your attention snaps back onto him. His voice matches his countenance now, serious with a bitter note. 

“I thought that I would be able to choose one thing in my life. Imagine my surprise when I found out you were the one I’m bonded to.”

Your stomach drops. The gears turn in your head- but despite what Gojo’s just said, there aren’t any dots connecting. Surely he’s joking. 

“Sorry?”

Now he rolls his eyes.

“I thought that I was bonded to someone else.” His eyes flick to the floor for a moment. “But then I see you passing out on Shoko’s table, and there was your mark, clear as day. Sure wasn’t expecting it to match mine.”

Your mind is really moving now. Gojo thought he was bonded to someone else but couldn’t confirm their matching marks? How often he had shown up around the campus. 

“You mean-”

That was supposed to be a full sentence. It’s too much to process- you cannot believe that he’s known for over a month that you’re bonded and hasn’t said a word. He had time to accept this and learn about you, while Gojo is still an eccentric stranger to you. You latch onto that last thought and the confusion and shock ignite into anger.

“So you’ve known this entire time and didn’t even think to tell me? I wasn’t even-” you cut yourself off. The haze of indignation and anger won’t goad you into telling Gojo what you’ve actually been researching. 

Gojo huffs again and leans on the doorframe. You’re close enough to see the line of displeasure that tugs on his mouth. 

“You’re the one trying to hunt me down. Anyone paying an ounce of attention has noticed that you’ve been spending all your time down here.”

Damn it all. You can’t keep a single thought in your mind for more than a moment and your heart is beating so loudly that you’re not sure you’re even hearing him correctly. 

“Well you don’t-”

“Now I’m sure it’s overwhelming to find out you’re matched to someone this handsome, but I’m really not interested.” He cuts you off cleanly. He sounds more relaxed and less pressing now, like your attempts to speak couldn’t matter less. 

Your cheeks heat further. It’s more than a little humiliating to be so directly confronted and derided for your mark. Gojo’s reaction brings every doubt, every curious thought you’ve ever had about the mark back to the surface in an instant.  

“That’s fine,” is all you can string together. 

He gives you a loose shrug back. “As long as we’re clear that nothing will come of this. No need to keep sneaking around for information.” In this second you can’t imagine feeling anything but contempt for the man in front of you. “I never thought I would find a match anyway. No changes needed.” Your voice is blistering and so is your face. Anger and embarrassment mix in an awful cocktail within your mind. “Great.” 

His voice is back to its normal, cheery cadence. He walks out without saying another word.

The stale air of the archives feels oppressive and tight around your throat, and you’re nearly dizzy with emotion. Your feet are locked into the ground where they have been, who knows how long it will take before you can move them. 

Anger still fizzles under your skin, and you can’t shake the desire to scream into the air. Of all the sorcerers in the world, God knows how you were divinely paired with the most annoying man on the face of the planet. 

Thoughts are still rushing in your mind- going over every interaction, every time he randomly popped up for lunch since that mission at the beginning of autumn. He'd apparently known about your compatibility that entire time, why would he say something now? Adrenaline is still pumping through you, and it suddenly feels too tight and crowded in the room. 

Frustration wells up and annoyed tears start to form in your eyes. It’s overwhelming- anger at the world, at the directors, at your thankless job, at Gojo. How dare he barge into your private space and talk to you like that? 

It’s not as if you had any choice in the matter- you woke up one day and the Mark was there. And you weren't even looking for it, or for him! For all the rumors about his prowess and skill, evidently he hasn't noticed what you were actually researching. 

While mildly embarrassing, when you had been looking into the mark, nothing had actually come off your research. If anything, he probably knows more than you about the stupid thing. That’s all the clans do- hoard information and use it for their own benefit. 

Beyond taking every measure to avoid him from here on, there frankly isn’t much that you can do about being matched to Gojo, or his reaction. If you’d hoped for any closure by finding out more about the mark, all you can feel now is regret in the pit of your stomach, a bitter reprimand for seeking any answers.

Achingly, you finally move, leaving behind the archive. The day around you is irritatingly pleasant and warm as you head towards the sanctuary of your own apartment. No one should bother you there. 

But being alone in the small unit doesn’t shake whatever emotion lingers. You shower off the dust and scrub your skin, then try to take a nap. After half an hour tossing and turning you give up on the prospect of sleep and wander into the mini kitchenette. There’s got to be a way to think through this. 

Your fingers tap an anxious pattern on the countertop. Being a Grade One sorcerer certainly has its perks especially financially, and usually the difficulty of your day to day isn't any worse than you imagine another job would be. It’s been years since an assignment had you fighting tooth and nail for your survival. There are other job opportunities out there, even for someone with an untraditional schooling background, you could resign without fucking over your colleagues too badly. 

But you recall the parents of the girl you had recently rescued. Their relief had been palpable as they embraced the scraped-up child. If the was down a Grade One, who knows if the assignee would have gotten there in time for it to be a rescue mission instead of a body recovery. 

“Shit.”

The truth is, you'll never walk away. When you do die, it'll be with the knowledge that you fought curses to the end. You straighten your back and look back outside. The campus can be serene, with its rolling greenery and secluded shrines. Perhaps what you really need is some time to relax and reflect inwards, to bear the mental as well as the physical toll of being a sorcerer. After a quick change of clothes in your small apartment, you head out, away from the Jujutsu world. 

The sun sears through your eyelids as you raise your face to the sky, trying to savor the warmth on your skin even on a humid day. Even just a few minutes is enough to raise your spirits, and when you activate your technique, you can literally feel the strength returning to your arms and core. Back to back missions hadn’t allowed for a spare moment to recharge, save the sunlight passing through the window of Ijitchi’s car. That didn’t really compare to the unbridled sky, you think, and fill your lungs with fresh air. 

According to the time on your phone, there won’t be enough daylight to completely fill your reserves, but lately you can’t predict when you’ll be sent out. Having some stores will become a necessity if things don’t slow down. 

The hours of light that you can absorb right now should be able to fuel your technique, converting the sunlight into extra strength and speed for your next assignment. Who knows when you'll get the next opportunity to grab some sun, and it’s been too long since you indulged in any of your hobbies. 

The crag outside the city isn't too busy today, enough traffic to watch other climbers attempt problems and spot you, but not so crowded that you'll have to wait for your turn on the route. 

In the relative peace of nature, you let the concerns of work drain out of your mind, focusing on mapping out your path and how to make each grab count. You douse your hands in the chalk bag on your hip and dust off the excess, all moisture sucked out of your palms before you step up to the wall and take your first hold. 

Your hands mold to the grips, and you place your toe delicately on the lowest hold. You sight your next move and swing to reach the next hold with your left arm, keeping the tension on your foot hold. 

Before ten minutes have passed, you’re being cleansed in sweat and anointed with sun rays, the muscles in your legs and forearms pleasantly straining. The only thoughts left in your mind are how to complete the route and whether you need more chalk on your hands. 

You complete the climb and slowly lower yourself back to the ground, then step into line for the next route. 

Bouldering had become an accidental hobby to charge your technique and get away from campus for a little while. 

Methodically moving through the problems, you leave the climbing site with aching legs and fingers, with your reserves of cursed energy higher than they’ve been in weeks. The walk back to the school grounds feels long, but you savor the exertion and chatter of the regular people as you head home, back to your problems and the restraints of sorcerer society. 

Tag list: @h0neysiba

[the-fenton-anticreep-stick]

@little-pondhead i wanted to add more to the fic from ask I sent you and that you added to so I did :3 (in a separate post because I’ll probably add even more, and others are welcome to as well!! and i didnt want to take up people’s entire dashes snfnfj) @cinturon-cadena

Dan had never quite mastered portals or long-distance teleportation, and he doubted he would be able to while he was so limited by this form, but it was a moot point when his top speed was far faster than Danny’s and he had Clockwork’s Time-Outs at his disposal. He took a quick trip around the globe, tipping over landmarks, moving some buildings, splashing around in some foul-smelling pools of ectoplasm and stealing some left shoes from the ninjas guarding said pools.

Once he was pleased with his mischief, (and more importantly: starting to get hungry,) he headed towards the familiar feel of the cursed city. It was significantly less destroyed than he had left it the last time he’d visited. He understood the necessity of Clockwork’s interference, but it was still disappointing. He had put effort into such widespread destruction!

At least the city’s curse-spirit-mind-whatever it was didn’t remember what he’d done, and as such no longer wanted to give him a slow and torturous End. That didn’t mean it approved of him being there, though.

Time unpaused and he’d barely had the chance to tear down some walls before Gotham slunk out of the shadows.

“Calm yourself!” He growled as he squirmed out of its grasp, wishing he could still turn his form into mist. Intangibility was of little use with a creature like this. “I’m not here for you, or any of those mortals you are so fond of.”

Gotham screeched, and if he had bones, several of them would have undoubtedly been broken. "You are Other! An outsider! You are not welcome here!" It’s voice mingled with the screams of the alarms and the shouts of inmates and guards alike. “You set the Madness loose!“

Their tussle was nonexistent to the mortals as they rolled beneath and through stampeding feet, clawing at each other like alley cats. “All in good fun, Gotham!” He snarled and bit through one of the tendrils intent on relieving him of his eyes. He grimaced at the sludgy texture. “Time Itself sends me, to play with your favored mortals and avenge your dead!”

“You are evil! You will cause harm!“ Gotham screeched.

Dan rolled his eyes. “I will kill the insect who terrorizes what is yours,” He promised as if it were an offering to her, and not something he’d been planning for some time. (Danny had been so upset when the insect who called itself the Batman and its brood were absent from one of his schemes, because they were busy with this Joker insect. It was annoying. No insect, no need for Danny to complain. Danny had even agreed to the plan!) “Decide his fate, and I will enact it!”

The city’s spirit relaxed its grip on him. “You swear it? You will rid me of him, you will leave my Knights alone?"

“I’ll leave them alive.” Unless they challenged him. Then he would destroy them. But that didn’t need to be said.

“I will watch you..." Gotham slipped back into the shadows.

“Oh, how spooky.” Dan grumbled sarcastically as he shook himself in a vain attempt to remove the lasting sensation of Gotham’s touch.

That little disagreement had eaten up much of his precious time before the heroes of this realm could catch up to him. He lifted himself off the floor, startling a few inmates, and surveyed the chaos for a moment, selecting the perfect target. He darted towards the plant themed-villain- Poison Ivy, if he recalled correctly. (He always did.)

The woman staggered, clutching at her head as she tried to force him out. Overriding her will was laughably easy, but he admired her attempt to fight.

“Ah- Hey! You leave her alo- EEP!” With a flick of Ivy’s wrist, Dan suspended the other- Harley, Ivy’s memories named her, -in the air, leaving her dangling from some vines. The baseball bat she’d tried to clobber him with fell to the floor. He kicked it aside as he strode down the hall.

“I’ll give her back.” He said with a shrug, overexerting the woman’s powers to restrain every person he could find within the prison. His plants dragged all the pitiful, trapped mortals to the largest room available, stringing them up from the ceiling in cocoons like the insects they were. There. That would make it easier to find that awful clown.

Unless he’d already escaped. That would be unfortunate. Not for Dan, of course, but unfortunate for anyone who got in the way while he searched the city. And unfortunate for that clown, when Dan caught up.

The clown wasn’t in Arkham, so Dan left the unconscious Poison Ivy on the floor and shot through the roof, grumbling to himself. He flew clear of the building just in time to see Batman enter through a window. He paused, spectral tail flicking back and forth as he thought, before diving back in after the hero.

Danny had said to see how many things he could steal from that utility belt without being caught... And it wasn’t like there was anywhere the clown could go that Dan couldn’t follow.

He slipped out of the visible light spectrum and bit back his gleeful cackles as he liberated some of those delightful green rocks from the confines of the Bat’s pockets.

[valcuda]

Oh nuts, someone followed me while I'm doing massive reworks to absolutely everything!

Well, here's a little bonus information, while I try to get everything else sorted!

Valcuda

That pumpkin in my icon is named "Valcuda", which you might notice, is my username or display name, or whatever it's called on Tumblr. Anyways, there's a funny story behind that!

My original online name was "TheModHead", however, I ended up creating a character, and naming them TheModHead, and they became like this important character in a story, so after YEARS of having the name, I changed it to Valcuda so nobody would get confused.

I then scrapped TheModHead from his own story. Then, one of my friends refered to the pumpkin in my icon as "Valcuda", and I liked the idea so much, I named him Valcuda, thus putting me back in the position I tried to escape from.

Unfortunately, I've now grown attached to the name Valcuda, with someone of my friends actually just calling me that, or even "Val", so I'm not changing it back. Even worse, Valcuda has become a main character in a story! (Which is the story Skizzy was cut from)

In Story Valcuda

Now then, let's clear something up, Valcuda is NOT the pumpkin, rather his spirit is the flame inside of it.

He was originally a vampire, known for his immense strength! Legends say he once fought a bear with his bare hands, and didn't suffer a scratch! And when someone didn't believe him, he'd do it again without a second thought!

NOTHING could best the great Valcuda! Unfortunately, the Goddess of the Soul took notice to him, carelessly slaughtering her creations, for no purpose other than pride!

So one night, she RIPPED out his soul! And cast it down into a mere pumpkin! It's said that lightning struck it so hard, the outside instantly became charred, and bits exploded out of it! Creating a face, the icon of the great Valcuda! And inside the pumpkin, was a flame that burnt so cleanly, it left no smoke behind, and it's fuel never ran out! The pumpkin spoke, and people soon realized what had happened.

The once strongest warrior in all of the land, was now a mere jack-o-lantern! Cursed to live an endless life, inside a charred pumpkin.

Those who still held respect for him, built a shrine for him to stay in, safe from the elements. They hoped that one day, the goddess Aulna would forgive him, but that day has yet to come...

----

That is what I currently have written for his backstory! Fear not, I haven't developed it as much as I plan to yet. I need to develop the world, and the language, and so of the main plot more, then I can go back and revise that, but that's the general gist of it.

Unfortunately, it might be a bit before all that is done. Scella's/Valcuda's world is the most complex I've developed, to the point I had to make a map for it, and a language, which is far more than I was expecting.

Back when Skizzy was the MC of this, the world was heavily based off of ours, taking place in modern times. Now, it takes place in a more fantasy setting, which is a nice break from Carrot Man's and JWatt's worlds! JWatt's world is modern times (Earliest story is in 09, latest 2020), while Carrot Man's takes place in a somewhat retro-futuristic future. (And by that, I mean it was once cartoony, now takes itself seriously, and I'm having difficulty adjusting the world. Please send help.)

Anyways, that's all for now! If I make it to 20 followers, maybe I'll post the current revision of Carrot Man's story, just to celebrate. Be warned though, I really need to rewrite it again, because I wrote it before I made the time system, and didn't include any dates in it because I didn't know what to do at the time, making it very confusing at times!

Hopefully I'll have it rewritten by then though! I just know I'm gonna want to rewrite it for the 5th time after that though, cause I've realized over these years that I'm a very iterative person, which is the only reason my art managed to improve despite me only having 2 characters for most of the time!

Anyways, I hope this makes up for a lack of info dump! Hopefully I'll get everything sorted soon for the next info dump! If not, let's say by the 18th, I'll just do it on things have been scrapped, or what I'm currently working on. (Which is Junk-Watt's world)

[raibebe]

Love Is On Air

Genre: fluff & smut Words: 8.722 Prompt: radio host Johnny x secret admirer female reader Warnings: soft dom Johnny, oral (f receiving), safe sex, dirty talk

A/N: Finally: My entry for the February event of my lovely network @neosmutcollective​. This is totally not the fic I planned on writing. In fact this was started way later after I realized I was never going to finish my original fic on time. Not that this one is on time... Special thanks to everyone who sent our lovely DJs some music recommendations @sly-merlin​, @moonctzeny​, @lenaluvs​, @lucas-wongs​, @burtonized​ and to @ncteaxhoe​ who helped me figure out this idea. I hope you enjoy this even though it’s wayyy too late.

You hurried home to your apartment after your last class of the day that was horrifically late because of whoever had fucked up your schedule this semester. Panting heavily, you busted into your room and threw your jacket and backpack somewhere onto your couch, diving straight for your laptop that was perched on your desk. Cursing the old thing, you waited for agonizing minutes until it had booted up and your browser was open. You quickly opened the familiar page of your university’s campus radio just in time to hear the familiar voice saying: “Hi I’m John-D, welcome to NCT Night Night.” After that both hosts chuckled lowly before Jaehyun spoke: “Tonight we’ll read some of the letters you wrote us over the week again and we will try our best to help you out with whatever problems you throw our way.” “Exactly. Right after we play this song that was suggested by evangelie_99 over on our Twitter, it’s Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County and she said that she loves our show. We’re glad you like it so much, darling. This one is for you,” Johnny softly said before the soft tunes of the song filled your little one-room apartment.

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair, carelessly toeing your shoes off. Listening to NCT Night Night was your escape at night from the stress that classes brought you. The two DJs that were on air every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday were your favorites though. Not only did they have great chemistry but they both could be incredibly funny as well as soothe all your nerves with their calming voices – especially Johnny or John-D as he was called on their show. You might have developed a slightly embarrassing crush on the fratboy with a heart as sweet as his voice from what you knew about him from his radio shows and your shared classes. Since they had started their weekly segment where they would read out letters that students could send them, you had gathered the courage to send Johnny little messages about how you were crushing on him and it had quickly become a running gag on the show. Jaehyun would tease Johnny about it every week while Johnny kept insisting that his secret admirer should just talk to him. But how could you do that? Johnny was everything one could want in a boyfriend. Not only was he ridiculously tall and devastatingly handsome but he was also smart, always seemingly staying on top of his classes and he also went to the gym regularly if his thirst traps on his Instagram stories were anything to go by. When he wasn’t giving out advice in a gentle voice on their radio program, he was out partying with his frat brothers on the weekends more often than not complaining about headaches on their Sunday show. How could you just walk up to him and talk to him? Right. You couldn’t. So you had to resign to sending him anonymous love letters through his radio show.

“Welcome back, hi,” Johnny chuckled once the song had gently faded out and you couldn’t help but giggle along. “That was Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County,” Jaehyun tried to stay on script but you could almost hear the grin on his face because of Johnny’s antics, “If you want your song to play on today’s show, please suggest something over on our Twitter with the hashtag,” Jaehyun paused momentarily and let out a dramatic sigh before continuing, “hashtag JohnDplaymelikeaviolin.” Jaehyun hadn’t even read the whole hashtag out loud when Johnny was already bursting out in laughter and how could you not laugh along with his melodic laughter. “I swear to god I am never letting you choose hashtags for our show ever again,” Jaehyun groaned while Johnny sounded like he was still dying in the background. “Don’t be mean to me Jaehyunie,” he whined and even though today’s episode was not viewable, you could vividly imagine how he was pouting. While the two friends were busy bickering and talking about what they had done since their last show, you pulled up your own Twitter to send a recommendation in.

“Aaaah, I see we’re already getting plenty of suggestions. Sly-merlin suggested us Sexy Dirty Love by Demi Lovato – a great song – and added ‘I wish John-D would actually play me like a violin.” After a potent silence, Johnny broke out in laughter again. “And this is why you won’t choose any more hashtags,” Jaehyun groaned again. “Baby,” Johnny rasped into his mic and even though you weren’t wearing headphones, it sent tingles down your spine, “Just come to our frat party on Friday and I’ll see what I can do.” “Stop plugging our parties on the radio,” Jaehyun scolded the elder, the slap audible over the radio, “Also sly-merlin has to stand in line. You still have your number one admirer who has sent in a letter yet again.” “She still hasn’t come up to me,” Johnny shared, “I can only keep up my chastity for so long. I am saving myself for this girl.” You know he was joking but you were just a simple woman and even in your secluded home, you felt heat rising to your cheeks, your thumbs stopping on your keyboard where you had typed out your song recommendation. Both DJs shared a quiet laugh before Jaehyun asked: “And you really don’t know who she is?” “I really don’t man,” his friend sighed, “Like I have my suspicions because she has to be in my major if she sees me in class that often. That or she’s a stalker which I do not want to think about. But for real, hit me up. I’ll take you out for a coffee.” “Now everyone is going to come up to you and claim that they’re her.” “I’ll take that risk,” Johnny laughed, “Maybe I’ll finally meet the love of my life and settle down.” At that Jaehyun snorted loudly. “The woman that can make you settle down gets free coffee for like a month from me.” “Watch me have a wife and kids at 25 Jae, just to spite you,” his friend snorted, “But up until then, let’s play sly-merlin’s song recommendation: Sexy Dirty Love by Demi Lovato.”

While the song was playing, you finished up your own tweet and hit post before you grabbed your bag that you had carelessly thrown away before to get out your notes. You actually had to start a project for one of the classes you and Johnny actually did share. The professor had announced that he would announce the pairings for a group project tomorrow and you didn’t want to seem like an actual idiot if your group would decide to already meet up and discuss after class. So while you listened to your favorite DJs discuss the questions and worries of whoever had sent them to their email address, you worked through the notes you had taken over the last couple of weeks, trying your best to organize them to remember the key points.

“Oh John-D, I have a very special letter here,” Jaehyun said, waving the paper in front of the microphone so it would pick up the wiggling noises. “What could that be?” Johnny asked with over-exaggerated interest. “It’s from your secret admirer, John-D. So I think you should read it out.” Just like every time, they read your letter, your heart began beating faster and faster in your chest until you were sure, it would break free from your ribcage. “Okay, here I go,” Johnny announced while Jaehyun was playing the same cheesy music he always played when they were reading your letters, “Happy Thursday, John-D. The weekend is almost in reach, keep up the energy for the last day of classes! – she’s so sweet, I’m holding up alright – One of my professors will announce the pairings he made for a group project soon and I am nervous. I don’t have many friends in the course and I’m praying that I will get good group mates I can work well with.” “Oooh, I get that struggle,” Jaehyun interrupted, “I once had to work with a bunch of stoners and ended up doing all the work for a presentation that made up 30 percent of my grade. Worst experience of my life, would not recommend. But we’re wishing you all the luck.” “But you know what’s more interesting about this story?” Johnny tuned in, “Coincidentally my professor for my literature class is assigning our group projects tomorrow as well. Say, my sweet admirer, are you perhaps in the same literature class as me?” In your otherwise silent room, the panicked squeak you let out was loud even to your ears. There was no way Johnny could figure out who you were, there were probably at least 20 more girls with a crush on him in that class alone, so you were safe. “Oooh, so maybe she’s a lit major so that’s why she’s writing love letters.” “Could be but lots of people from different majors are taking that class,” Johnny argued, “Anyways, back to her letter. But I won’t let that disturb me! I will be doing my best regardless! – That’s the spirit – I’ll work through my notes as I listen to your honey voice so I can be prepared. I’m glad you don’t do viewable radios on Thursday’s or else I wouldn’t be able to get anything done, you’re just too distracting John-D,” at that Jaehyun let out a fake gag while Johnny just giggled softly, “Thank you secret admirer, I do clean up quite nicely if I do say so myself. – On last Sunday’s episode you melted my heart when you hid in your hoodie for half the show. – God that was the worst hangover I had in a looong while, I was so miserable.”

“You should have seen him at home,” Jaehyun laughed, “I had to physically drag his whole 180-something-centimeters body first into the shower, then into the car and into the station. He is the biggest crybaby when he’s hungover.” “Don’t expose me like that, Jaehyunie,” Johnny whined loudly, “I was dared to drink a bunch of tequila and my mother didn’t raise neither a quitter nor a coward.” “No, but clearly an idiot,” the younger DJ laughed his deep laugh. “Let me read my love letter in peace,” the other grumbled, “I couldn’t follow for half the show because I was so focused on watching you. Not in a creepy way of course! – Of course not,” Johnny chuckled, “I hope you finished that essay you had to work on after the show in time and still had some time to relax. – I did, don’t worry.” That you already knew when Johnny had handed in his essay in another class you two shared just before you had handed in yours and he had thrown you a little smile that had kept you going through the whole day. “Take care of yourself and keep smiling your beautiful smile, I look forward to seeing you again on Sunday or in classes. And fighting to Jae-D as well of course! – I look forward to hearing from you again, secret admirer. I bet your group project will go just fine, don’t worry too much. If anyone is mean to you, just expose them here and we’ll fight them for you.” “Love that she acknowledged me in one sentence as well,” Jaehyun grumbled, cutting off the cheesy music abruptly. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a sweet admirer who sends you cute messages,” the other teased his friend. “Yeah, yeah, shut up and put that letter in the box under your bed.” “It’s in my sock drawer, thank you very much.”

Giggling, you listened to the two friends bicker, your chest warm with a feeling you were scared to put a name on. “Anyways, I think it’s time for another music recommendation you can still send in via our lovely hashtag JohnDplaymelikeaviolin. This one is from lenaluvies and she says: Please play Hurts So Good by Astrid S thank you. No, thank you for sending something in darling. This one’s for you,” Johnny announced and you couldn’t help but laugh a little pained laugh. That song title hit a little too close to home for your liking. The rest of the radio show went by smoothly and Johnny and Jaehyun tried to help a handful of more students with their problems that couldn’t be more diverse. From a boy who had fallen in love with his best friend which had send him into an identity crisis over to a girl who was failing her classes because she claimed the professor hated her to a freshman who wanted to apply for a fraternity but was scared because of the rumors surrounding them which the DJs quickly debunked since they both were in the same fraternity. In the end they had to cut themselves short, asking their viewers to vote on a poll they would make if people wanted a whole Tuesday episode surrounding fraternities.

“So.” “So,” Johnny copied his friend. “We’re almost at the end of our time with you guys. We couldn’t get through all of your submissions but we hope our team picked a few good ones and at least some of you could get some advice.” “As always you’re free to send us your own stories to our e-mail JohnJaeNNN@NCTU.com to get some advice next Thursday from your favorite DJs: John-D.” “And Jae-D. Every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday on your campus radio on 127mHz. On NCT-“ “Night Night,” they said their ending together and just like every night with them, you said goodnight to your computer screen, closing the tab which draped your little apartment in silence. Sighing loudly, you looked over your notes that needed a little more work if you wanted to make a good first impression on your fellow students tomorrow. Because you couldn’t stand the silence, you opened your Spotify to play the NCT Night Night playlist Johnny and Jaehyun had made with the songs that had been recommended to them, still missing the new additions from tonight.

The next morning found you in your literature class, sitting two rows behind Johnny, staring at the back of his head while doodling on your paper rather than taking notes on whatever the professor was saying. If you were to let your eyes wander, you’d see that almost everyone in the big room was paying as much or even less attention as you were; the students in different states of excitement and anxiety over the group projects he had yet to announce. “I’m sorry professor,” Johnny’s voice suddenly cut through the room, “I’m sure you have already noticed that no one is paying attention to whatever you’re trying to teach us right now. Could you please just announce the groups for the project?” That moment you swore you would be able to hear a pin drop until your eccentric professor chuckled lowly. “I like you, Suh. I was waiting for someone to mention it,” he spoke, getting the dreaded list out of his bag, “Listen closely now, you’ll be assigned in groups of four and each group will get a specific novel to work on. Deadline will be by the end of the semester and your individual paper combined with the group presentation will make up 40% of your final grade.” That made a bunch of people, including you, gasp out loudly. A group project with this much credit to your final grade was always dreaded. “I don’t want to hear any complaints, that’s how it’s always been. Now listen carefully, I won’t repeat myself but the list will be hung on our blackboard as well.” With that being said, the professor began listing names and novels in the most monotone voice he could muster. To say you were basically vibrating off of your seat was an understatement when he got further and further down the list and neither yours nor Johnny’s name had been called yet. “And lastly, an all-time favorite: Romeo and Juliet.” You didn’t even register anything else after the professor had announced that the group featured both Johnny and you along with two other students you didn’t know. Your brain was reduced to static noise while everyone else was getting up around you to pick up the books that had already been stacked in a corner, probably by a poor TA. Only when a person bumped into you, you broke from your stupor to quickly pick up your stuff as well to hurry down to steps to where a crowd of students had already gathered.

Luckily Johnny towered over most of the other students and you could easily spot him and the rest of your group that were two other boys you didn’t recognize. “Hey, you’re the last one we were missing,” Johnny smiled and handed you over your copy of the book. “Y... Yeah, sorry for making you wait,” you stuttered, clutching the small book tightly in your hands. “No big deal,” Johnny played it off, “Do any of you have any more classes today?” When everyone declined, you all agreed that you should get a head start on your project as it would be hard to make a good project out of such an overused love story. While walking over to the student center to decide on a concept, conversation flowed easily between the four of you even though you were still really nervous to be around Johnny. God, you really hoped he didn’t think you were stupid or something just because you were nervous.

The little study session went by in a blur and only further confirmed that you were so whipped for Johnny it wasn’t even funny anymore. You found yourself attentively listening to all of his ideas and laughing at every of his stupid little jokes and only mildly spacing out while looking at Johnny when the others were discussing ideas which had led to one or two mildly embarrassing situations where you would lose track of what you were actually discussing, your mind blank of any input when they asked for your opinion.

Soon you found yourself parting ways with your groupmates, leaving you and Johnny alone because his frat house and your little apartment were located in the same general direction. “Anything fun you’re doing this evening?” Johnny asked, trying to make some light conversation to fill the silence. “No, I’ll just binge watch some shows maybe or listen to the campus radio,” you shrugged it off. While today’s show wasn’t your favorite, you quite liked the DJs soft and gentle voice. “You listen to the campus radio? I have a show on there,” Johnny smiled. “I like listening to you and Jaehyun,” you confessed, trying to fight the heat that was licking at your cheeks. “Oh.” “You seem surprised.” “Yeah, it kind of still seems weird that people enjoy listening to Jae and me rambling for hours on end. You know with him it just feels like I’m hanging out with my brother rather than work.” “Your voices are really soothing, you know,” you tried to explain what you were feeling when listing to them, “And your friendship is kind of adorable. Like we can feel how much you care about each other and you always genuinely try to help your listeners without making fun of them.” For a while Johnny didn’t say anything and you thought you had fucked it up, that he thought you were weird now. “Thank you,” he suddenly said. “Huh?” “It means a lot hearing that. We do lurk on Twitter to see what people think of our show but hearing it like this is something else entirely.” “It’s nothing,” you mused, playfully hitting his arm, “No need to get this soft.” “Hey,” he laughed, “I’ll have you know that I am 180 centimeters of walking softness despite what people might say about me.” Smiling softly you caught his eyes for the first time since you two had started walking and the way his honey eyes were smiling back at you momentarily took your breath away.

“I- My room is right around here, sooooo,” you stuttered. “It was nice working with you. Even though you were spacing out half the time,” Johnny teased, “Thinking about a special someone?” You. The word sat on the tip of your tongue, the low light of the afternoon sun making you bolder than you actually were and Johnny just made you feel incredibly comfortable. “No... No- I- I’m single.” “A crush then?” “Something like that,” you mumbled, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your jacket. “Talk to him. Or her. Or them,” Johnny advised. “I really can’t,” you sighed, “He doesn’t even know I exist.” “Well you don’t need to confess your undying love for him,” he laughed, not knowing he was the boy in question, “Just you know. Casually talk to him. Get to know him.” “I’ll try?” “Is that a question?” “Yeah?” “Have more confidence in yourself,” he gently nudged you, “You’re nice and very easy to talk to.” “Nice... Wow.” “Shut up,” he laughed, “I usually give better compliments but I have yet to get to know you better.” “Would you... Would you even want that?” “Sure,” Johnny shrugged and your heart skipped a couple of beats, “I have to get going or everybody will already be drunk when I arrive. So... I’ll see you in class? And you’ll hear me on Sunday?” “Yeah sure. Don’t drink too much or you will be miserable all show like last week,” you giggled. “Don’t remind me,” he groaned, “I’m never going to drink tequila on a Saturday ever again.” “Goodbye Johnny,” you smiled, really liking how his name sounded when you said it out loud. “Bye,” he waved before going his way.

Once you were sure he was out of hearing distance, you let out a little happy squeak and jumped up and down excitedly. You did it. You had actually done it. You had talked to your crush. And managed to not make a complete fool out of yourself in front of him. Which was a win in your books. A huge win. With a little spring in your steps, you stepped by one of your favorite pizza places to treat yourself before heading home where you spend your evening daydreaming about none other than Johnny while watching reruns of old dramas.

“Hi, I’m Jae-D.” “And I am John-D. Welcome to NCT-“ “Night Night.” “John-D.” “Yes, Jae-D,” Johnny chuckled. “It’s Thursday again which means it’s time to tend to our listener’s worries,” Jaehyun read off of the script, not getting distracted by his friend’s antics, “And today is a very special episode.” “Special?” Jaehyun barely repressed to roll his eyes at his friend’s over-exaggerated acting before continuing: “Yes, since tomorrow is a day off for all students, we have decided to make this episode extra lengthy and-“ he shortly stopped to flash the camera a peace sign, “Viewable despite it being Thursday.” “Do we look okay?” Johnny laughed, checking himself out in the video that was playing on one of their monitors. “Aaaaah, the comments say we look good tonight, thank you,” Jaehyun mused.

And they really did. Not that either of them had to do a whole lot to look good but today they were both wearing white button-downs with their sleeves rolled up to expose their forearms. Jaehyun had even gone so far as to put on some fake glasses. “And if you’re following us on our Twitter you also already know that this week it’s all about love on our campus radio and our show today is no exception,” Johnny read his part of the script. “Today John-D and Jae-D are Loveholics, trying our very best to help you with your problems surrounding love,” Jaehyun completed, “You can send in song recommendations through the hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic just like taryn1026 did – I hope I said that right – but they recommended Paris in the Rain by Lauv to set the mood for today.”

The soft tunes of the song made you relax a little into your sofa where you had chosen to watch today’s episode of NCT Night Night. You had to say that you were kind of nervous for today’s episode. Just like every week you had written your letter to Johnny, telling him about your week and cheering him on for your group project. At this point it should have been pretty obvious just who exactly you were and judging by how Johnny was acting towards you, his flirting leaving you flustered after your study sessions and your group mates mildly annoyed, he seemed to already have put together the pieces. But yesterday while writing your letter you had felt extra bold (and maybe also extra riled up and horny from Johnny’s shameless flirting) and had written him a message that should confirm all his suspicions and would hopefully lead him straight to you and into your bed. But until the end of the show or at least until they read your letter, which you really hoped they did today as well, you had to wait sitting in your apartment, for once not in comfortable clothes but in a nice shirt and pants.

“That was Paris in the Rain by Lauv, recommended to us by taryn1026 through our Twitter with the hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic,” Johnny’s raspy voice filled your apartment when he leaned close to the mic, “Jae-D are you ready to make some love happen?” “I already had my love juice,” Jaehyun answered, showing his pink Starbucks drink to the camera, “And my reading glasses are on.” As to prove his point, he hiked his glasses up his nose before scratching his eye through the holes in the frame, making both DJs chuckle. For the next hour Johnny and Jaehyun tried to solve several relationship dramas as well as a very tricky friends-with-benefits situation and telling a boy to break up with his cheating girlfriend which had been a rather heartbreaking discussion. “So after this,” Jaehyun sighed, “Let’s play another song recommendation. Burtonized has sent in a very fitting song, I hope you all don’t mind a little Korean: It’s God Damn by I.M – a song about heartbreak.”

While the foreign song was playing, the two DJs stretched their backs and sipped on their respective drinks: Jaehyun still on his pink sugar concoction and Johnny already on his second iced Americano. Jaehyun must have found something funny on his phone, nudging his friend to look at him but Johnny was busy typing away on his own, only acknowledging his friend after he had typed his message. Just after that, your own phone buzzed with a message, showing Johnny’s name on the screen.

From: Johnny Are you watching our show?

To: Johnny Sure, you look good today

From: Johnny Make sure to listen closely ;)

“That was God Damn by I.M suggested by burtonized over our Twitter hashtag JohnJaeLoveholic,” Jaehyun’s smooth voice tore you from your spiraling thoughts about the winking face Johnny had sent. “Sadly our show is coming to an end even with our extended airtime.” “But John-D a very important letter is still missing before we close our show. Dare I say it could be the highlight of our show,” Jaehyun joked, already playing the cheesy music he was always playing when Johnny would read your letters. “You’re right Jae-D my lovely secret admirer has sent in another letter,” Johnny mused, arranging himself so he could read the printed out letter while being as close as possible to the mic for it to pick up the rasp in his voice, “Happy Thursday John-D, I hope your week has been more exciting than mine. I have just been going from class to class without much thought, the only high points are my group meetings for the group project we have to hand in soon – That seems very familiar, baby – But since today is all about love, I’ll tell you about a little problem I have: – get your love juice ready, Jae – There is this boy in my group. And boy isn’t really the right word to describe him, he’s a man really,” at that Johnny couldn’t hold back a low chuckle, “I’m sorry, I’ll be serious – And he is flirting with me. Has been for a couple of weeks now. And it has gotten to the point where our groupmates are kind of annoyed at us. He has also walked me home a couple of times but he never so much as touched me. At this point I am so frustrated with him. Is he just playing with me? Or is his mouth bigger than his actions actually are? He has been riling me up all day today and I was ready to let him have his way with me but he only wished me goodnight and left again, leaving me to deal with what he had done all by myself – oh wow, I,” Johnny stuttered, sharing a gaze with his friend who was only barely repressing his laughter, “Wow, okay, I hope we’re in the good for reading this out and it’s late enough,” clearing his voice and raking a hand through his hair, Johnny continued, “John-D I hope this man hears what he has done to me and will deal with the consequences of his actions. Would you play Animal by Jin Yosef and RIELL for me? Just in case this letter hasn’t gotten my point across? – Y... Yeah sure, darling. We’ll play that once our show is over.”

“So John-D,” Jaehyun grinned while loudly slurping on his ‘love juice’, “What would you advice your secret admirer to do about this problem?” “Well if I were her,” Johnny started, his gaze going straight to the camera where he knew you were watching and it felt like he was looking straight into your soul, “I’d wait for him. I’m pretty sure he can prove that his actions speak even louder than his words.” For a while it was quiet between the two DJs, safe for Jaehyun’s obnoxiously loud slurping noises but even if they would have been saying anything, you weren’t sure if you could have comprehended any words with how furiously your heart was beating. “Anyways,” Jaehyun eventually broke the silence once he was sure there was nothing left in his ‘love juice’, “I’m afraid that was it for tonight. This has been your extra lengthy episode of Jae-D and John-D and we will leave you with this wonderful song recommendation: Animal by Jin Yosef and RIELL. If you’ve liked today’s show, we’re here every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday night on your campus radio on 127mHz to listen to all of your worries on NCT-“ “Night Night,” Johnny joined in and they both waved into the camera as your song of choice started playing. The video stream didn’t cut off immediately, showing the boys gathering their things and if your eyes weren’t betraying you, you swore you saw Johnny tense up when the song turned a little more explicit. The two DJs waved to the camera one last time before the stream cut off, leaving the screen of your laptop dark.

That was when it dawned on you what you had done. Shit. With how Johnny had sounded, you probably had about fifteen to twenty minutes until he would be at your doorstep. Oh god. Shit. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you tried to ground yourself before hurriedly closing your laptop and cleaning everything that seemed messy in your little one-room apartment. That was until you heard a knock on your door.

With shaky hands, you slowly opened the door and while you knew who would be standing on the other side, you weren’t ready for how he was going to look like: Johnny was leaning against the doorway casually with his arms crossed over his chest so the tight button-down he was wearing would strain over the planes of his chest muscles but what really reeled you in was how dark his eyes looked when he raked them over your body. “Good evening miss,” he drawled. “Hi,” you breathed. “Tell me what you want so I’m not misinterpreting any of this,” Johnny all but growled, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. “I want you to have me.” If you thought his eyes were dark before, they turned into bottomless black orbs once the words had left your lips. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, baby.” “Please,” you whimpered and that seemed to break Johnny’s resolve as he pulled you close to him and all but crashed his lips into yours. The kiss wasn’t delicate in any way, shape or form with how Johnny was licking into your mouth the second a moan left your lips. His tongue was intertwining with yours messily and in no time both of you were panting into each other’s mouths. “Inside. Now,” you rasped. “All with due time,” Johnny chuckled but let you pull him into your apartment, slamming the door shut to crowd you against it, one of his strong thighs slipping between your legs like it belonged there, “If you’re a good girl and listen well, I’ll give you anything you want.” “Fuck,” you cursed before slamming your lips together again, a new neediness bleeding into the kiss as you tugged on the longer strands of hair at the back of Johnny’s neck which made him growl lowly. “Anything off-limits?” Johnny breathed into your skin as he kissed down your neck to suck a mark there while his hands were busy pulling your shirt from your pants so he could rake them over your naked skin. “Just,” you had to cut yourself off with a moan, “Don’t be mean to me.” “Never,” he promised, “You’ll be my pillow princess.” His sweet words were in stark contrast to how hard his hands were gripping your hips and how his teeth were grazing over your neck that must be littered with marks already. “Take me to bed,” you heaved breathlessly, positive your legs would give out if it wasn’t for Johnny holding you up.

Listening to your demand, he slowly started walking you backwards towards your bed until the two of you were toppling down on top of the covers, his lips never leaving your skin. Whoever had spread the rumors about Johnny being a great lover had been absolutely right, he knew just how to touch you to have you gasping for air and judging by the grin on his lips he hadn’t even started yet. “Please,” you whimpered, arching into his touch, not exactly sure what exactly you were asking for but Johnny seemed to know all the better when he freed you from your top and pants to leave you in your matching lace set while he was still fully clothed in his by now wrinkled button-up and pants. “All for me?” He chuckled and pressed a kiss right between the valley of your breasts, his big hands cupping the soft flesh to squeeze it gently. “Have me,” you gasped out and you could feel the growl he let out vibrating where you were pressed together. “I’m going to ruin you,” Johnny promised, pulling down the cups of your bra to wrap his plush lips around one of your nipples to tease the soft nub until it hardened under his ministrations, sending waves of pleasure down your spine and straight to your core where you could feel your wetness starting to seep into the fabric of your panties. “Johnny,” you mewled and arched into his every touch, his calloused fingertips setting your skin alight when he let them travel down your body to tease over your lower stomach. As if by reflex, you let your thighs fall open for him to finally touch you where you needed him the most. “Such a good girl,” he smiled, blowing cold air over your spit-slicked nipple to watch you squirm beneath him. Your remark got stuck in your throat when he finally cupped you through your panties, feeling how damp the fabric had already become. “Naughty,” he chuckled, his eyes never leaving your face as he circled your clit through the fabric, watching your eyes fluttering shut when his gaze became too intense.

“Johnny,” you sighed, forgetting all other words except for his name. “Relax, princess,” he rasped and kissed his way down your body, leaving love bites on the sensitive skin of your stomach and thighs that shook with anticipation. If you’d say you hadn’t dreamed about his lips on you like this, you would lie and you weren’t going to miss the sight of this for nothing. Fighting back the fog that had started to cloud your mind, you forced your eyes open to look down to where he had settled between your open thighs to find him staring right back at you. “Good girl,” he praised you again before pressing a kiss over your clothed sex that made your head fall back already, the anticipation of what was to come making you push up your hips which made Johnny chuckle lowly. He didn’t leave you any time to feel embarrassed by how needy you were when he hooked your panties to the side unceremoniously and licked a broad stripe up your center, tasting your arousal. “Oh fuck,” you breathed out, your hands flying down to tangle them in the long strands of his hair. Johnny worked his tongue in slow and clever strokes, leaving your mind reeling with pleasure and taking his time to take you apart piece by piece, not even paying attention to your leaking center or your aching clit. But when he did wrap his lips around your clit to gently suck on the nub, your mind almost went numb with how intense his touch was, your thighs clamping shut around him. To make it even worse, he started humming around you while prying your thighs back open, holding you down with his large hands. You felt your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast now that he was altering between teasing your clit with his tongue, lips and even his teeth and fucking your velvety walls with his tongue, setting your nerve endings on fire. “Johnny I’m close,” you warned him but instead of slowing down, he stretched his jaw wide to press his tongue further into you, his nose bumping into your clit in the process and with the combined sensation and his doubled effort, it took no time for your first orgasm of the night to wash over you, a scream of his name leaving your lips as you shook through it, your mind going equally as numb as your legs.

When you came back to it, Johnny had straightened up between your legs and he was grinning down at you while he was unbuttoning his shirt, his face still shiny with your arousal. “That was the first one,” he spoke darkly. “Come here,” you whined, making grabby hands for him until he took pity on you and covered your body with his before connecting your lips in a bruising kiss. You could still taste yourself on his lips but that somehow just made it even hotter.

“Want you inside me,” you panted against his lips when Johnny broke the kiss in favor of raking his teeth over your racing pulse. “Yeah?” He rasped and ground his hips down into yours, making you feel him strain against the fabric of his pants. “Need it,” you moaned at the sweet friction. “Think you can take me?” He laughed as he leaned back on his hunches to pop open the button of his pants, pulling down the zipper agonizingly slow. With wide eyes you watched him push his pants down his narrow hips, leaving him in just his navy boxers that showed the sizable imprint of his hard cock, the fabric against the head dark from where he had leaked precum. Chuckling, he stroked over the outline and just the sight alone made your mouth water. “Show me,” you breathed, spreading your thighs so he could see your needy core, clenching around nothing. “Hmm,” he hummed, dragging one of his fingers that wasn’t preoccupied with teasing himself through the mess of arousal and his saliva between your legs, only barely dipping it into you to feel the muscles trying to suck him inside. “Don’t tease me,” you whined high in your throat. “But I like seeing you squirm,” Johnny grinned but took mercy on you and sunk his finger into you up to the knuckle, gently pumping it inside you. Still sensitive from how intense your last orgasm had been, you were torn between pulling away and wanting more but Johnny made the decision for you when he pulled his finger out, wiping your arousal onto your thigh.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded and finally freed his cock from his briefs. “Fuck.” The curse left your lips without even noticing at the sight of his flushed cock, too heavy to properly stand up against his toned abs. The tip was tinted red and shiny with precum that Johnny generously spread down that whole length, his eyes not leaving yours as you watched him lazily jerk himself. “Like what you see?” You eagerly nodded your head. “Want it inside me.” “Yeah? Show me.”

Throwing all caution out of the window, you quickly sucked two of your fingers between your lips before guiding them to your weeping core to slip them inside you, letting out an over-exaggerated moan as you crooked them. “Oh you’re so naughty, baby,” Johnny groaned, squeezing the base of his cock tightly as he watched you fingering yourself and if you had even one coherent thought left in your head, you’d have the decency to be embarrassed because of how intensely he was staring. “It’s not enough,” you pouted, pulling your fingers free and spreading them to look at the slick covering them, “I’m so wet for you.” “Such a dirty mouth,” he groaned, quickly grabbing his pants to fish a condom from his wallet to roll over his hard length. “Please, Johnny,” you hiccupped, winding your legs around his waist to pull him closer to you. “Sssh, princess,” he soothed you, running his hands over your torso before bending down to press tender kisses to your stomach, “I’ll take care of you.” “Please kiss me.”

Dropping his elbows next to your head to support his weight, he covered your body with his and caught your lips in a kiss much too tender for your current situation, taking his time to explore your mouth until you were perfectly pliant beneath him. “Tell me if it hurts,” he whispered into the small space between you while he snaked a hand between your bodies to guide his cock to your core. When the head slipped in without much resistance, both of you let out twin moans of pleasure. Painstakingly slowly Johnny pushed inside you, centimeter by centimeter until his hips were flush to yours. “Breathe, princess,” he reminded you because you indeed had held your breath and had buried your nails in his biceps. “Shit, you’re big,” you cursed. “So I’ve been told,” Johnny chuckled and peppered your face and neck with little kisses while he slowly ground his hips so you could get used to him inside you.

“Move,” you demanded after a while.   “What’s the magic word baby?” He grinned. “Please, Johnny,” you whimpered, clenching down on him. “Once more.” “Don’t make me beg.” “But you sound so pretty when you do,” he chuckled, only barely moving his hips. “Johnny please,” you whined, trying your best to move on his cock on your own but the angle was just not working out. “Oh, you want to do the work?” “I want you to move,” you groaned, pawing at his chest.

“But I think you’d look so pretty riding my cock,” Johnny rasped and in one fluid movement, he had sat up and pulled you onto his lap. Shit, it felt like he was even deeper now. “Come on, princess.” Whining, you wound your arms around his shoulders and pulled your legs beneath you so you could lift your hips up to make his cock smoothly slide out, the friction just right before you slowly dropped back down again, earning you an appreciative groan from Johnny. “That’s right, baby,” he praised you as you slowly found a comfortable pace, swiveling your hips until the angle was just right. Tightening the grip you had on his shoulders to use it as leverage, you began riding him in earnest, impaling yourself on his cock over and over again until your head was spinning and your thighs started to burn. “Come on, doll,” Johnny grinned, catching one of your nipples between his lips. Whining, you rolled your hips faster until your thighs began shaking. “Need help?” He just grinned, his big hands holding onto your hips to help you move up and down his cock at a steadier pace. “Please Johnny,” you hiccupped, hiding your face in his neck to ground yourself, “Please fuck me.” “Am I not doing just that?” He chuckled, filthily grinding his cock inside you. “Do it right,” you panted into his skin, “Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby.” He didn’t have to tell you twice, it was almost comical how quickly you obeyed his command and arched your back for him. “Hmm, that’s it,” he praised you, tracing the curve of your spine with his hands until he reached the space between your shoulder blades where he gently pushed down to make you arch even further. “So good and pliant for me, just waiting to be filled.” “Please,” you just whined again, past the point of caring about how pathetic you sounded, begging for his cock. “Say it baby,” he demanded, slapping his cock against your wet folds. “Please fuck me Johnny. Please. I want your cock inside me so badly. Want you to fuck me until I can’t even remember my own name anymore. Please I need it. I-“ your frantic rambling got cut off by the surprised moan leaving your lips as he thrust into you without any warning. “Don’t hold back baby,” Johnny rasped before gripping your hips tightly to finally fuck you in earnest, the sound of skin slapping together loud in the otherwise silent room. “God, your ass looks amazing,” he moaned, burying himself in your tight heat over and over again, mesmerized by how his cock was glistening in the low light and how easily your body opened up for him, “You’re basically made to take my cock.” You could only mewl at his dirty words and fist the sheets tightly in your hands as you tried to meet his thrusts as best as you could while you felt like you got your soul fucked right out of you.

“Feels so good,” you slurred when you felt the familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap, clenching around Johnny’s cock. “God baby, if you keep clenching like that I’m gonna cum,” Johnny cursed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up against his chest, the pace of his hips only getting faster. “Please Johnny. Want it inside,” you whined, letting him use your body how he wanted to relish in the low moans he let out. “You want me to fill you up baby?” “Want it so bad, Johnny,” you mewled. “Then cum for me. Cum on my cock and I’ll give you anything you want.” And oh god. You had never thought that the strained sound of a couple of words could be enough to actually trip you over the edge but the rasp in Johnny’s voice had you falling apart in his arms, your orgasm ripping through you so hard it had your thighs shaking. “Such a good girl,” Johnny praised you before he let out a low guttural moan and fucked into you once – then twice – before his hips came to a halt, emptying his cum inside the condom.

For a while you two just panted loudly before Johnny gently laid you back down onto the mattress, chuckling lowly when you whined at the loss of his cock. “Shit,” you giggled while he quickly got rid of the condom, throwing it in the general direction of your trashcan. So tender you could have missed it, Johnny pressed a row of kisses down your spine until he reached the swell of your ass. “Cuddle me,” you pouted, making grabby hands at him. “We’re sweaty, princess,” he laughed but gave in when you kept pouting. “I don’t care,” you whined, fitting your head beneath his, wrapping your arms and legs around his body to cling to him like a koala. “You’re cute,” he smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“For how long did you know?” “Know what?” Johnny asked, clearly confused. “That I was your secret admirer.” “I didn’t.” “It was so obvious,” you groaned. “Okay maybe I got a hunch after we started that group project. But you never said anything.” “What was I supposed to say? Oh Johnny, by the way, I’m the one who has been writing you cringey love letters for like half a year already. Please go out with me?” That made Johnny laugh, the sound melodic in the quiet of your room. “I would have said yes, you know?” He spoke lowly, “I’ll miss your letters.” “What makes you think I will stop writing them?” “Because you can tell me all that stuff in person now when we go on dates.” “We’ll go on dates?” “That’s what people do when they like each other, princess,” Johnny chuckled, “And I really like you. Both as my secret admirer and my classmate.” “Oh my god stop,” you whined, hiding your hot face in his chest, feeling shy all of a sudden while Johnny was just laughing.

“I like you too,” you eventually mumbled once it had gotten quiet again. “I figured,” he teased you. “I changed my mind,” you immediately shot back, rising from where you were cuddled into his chest but every other protest died on your tongue when you saw his dreamy expression, his honey eyes finding yours and completely ignoring the fact that you were still very much naked. “Date me,” he said. “Okay,” you answered, easily meeting his lips in a sweet kiss that wouldn’t be the last one you two shared tonight.

“Hello and welcome back, that was Middle Of The Night by Monsta X, suggested to us by raibebe through our Twitter with the hashtag JonJaeLoveTalk. We’re your DJ’s John-D.” “And Jae-D on NCT Night Night. Hello again to all of our listeners. John-D.” “Yes Jae-D,” Johnny chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Something is off today. I looked through our mail and there was no letter from your secret admirer.” “Oh really,” he feigned surprise. “Either they didn’t send anything in or our director got sick of the pining.” “I can calm you right back down Jae-D,” Johnny smiled, “Because she simply doesn’t need to send any more letters. I finally found her.” “No way. For real? And you didn’t tell me? I have to find out through our radio show? Friendship is dead,” Jaehyun sighed dramatically and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Jae-D you know you’ll always be the number one in my heart, you know that.” At that Jaehyun let out fake gagging noises that made both friends chuckle.

“No but for real. I finally found her and asked her out. It’s going great so yeah,” Johnny shrugged, “In case you’re listening baby: I’m dropping by later and bring sushi.” “This is so domestic already,” Jaehyun sighed dramatically, “Where is my secret admirer?” “Maybe you could find love as well if you stopped acting like the textbook example of a frat boy.” “What is that even supposed to mean?”

Smiling, you leaned back on your sofa and listened to your boyfriend bickering with his best friend. Boyfriend. That sounded good even though it still felt unreal. Love Letters weren’t dead after all it seemed.

[digitallytrying]

POKEMON LEGENDS: ARCEUS SPOILERS || POST-GAME SPOILERS

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So, I've seen a lot of talk about Volo's relationship with his team of Pokemon and I wanted to add my two cents cause I love headcannons for Pokemon/Trainer dynamics.

I know a lot of people think Volo loves his Pokemon, and while I agree, I think it's a lot more complicated than that, so I wanted to explore this deeper.

"I am the great wielder of Pokémon. And you... You battle alongside your Pokémon. In the end, I was alone... But not you. You will fight together with your Pokémon to seize whatever dreams you have."

This is what he says to you after you defeat him. I think it's very interesting how he stresses a difference between your relationships with Pokemon. He says that he was alone, and implies that this is the reason he lost, because a Weilder can't compare to a Trainer.

How can someone with a full-party of Pokemon (in a time period where only you and rematch Ingo, the TIME TRAVELLERS are able to manage this feat) with a team that consists of three friendship evolutions and the rest being notoriously powerful and difficult to raise - how is someone like that unable to sync up with his team like a Trainer would? We know his Pokemon love him, but does he?

I think Volo's problem is he's intentionally creating distance between him as his Pokemon. He's a fantastic trainer with revolutionary skill, control and discipline over an infamously terrifying team, but he makes the choice to think of them as tools, a means to an end, so that's the only thing they can be.

We get a lot of lore in this game about the realities of how violent and depressing life with Pokemon is before people learned how to co-exist with them. Most note-worthy, of course, is Beni detailing how his and Kamado's hometown was burned to the ground and their people had lost friends, family and colleagues. How this tragedy is what drove them to Hisui in the first place. But throughout the game we see the way people treat Pokemon with fear and caution, stories of Corps members getting mauled, electrocuted and the likes, how hard it is to get these injured back up on their feet. Cyllene literally tells you that sending you out into the wild if you fail to impress the Galaxy Team would likely lead to your death.

Why is this important?

"You see, ever since I was young, whenever I met something painful or heartbreaking... I couldn't help but wonder why life was so unfair. Why I was cursed to live through such things."

Not to point out the obvious, but Volo is a character who is very noticeably alone. No village, no clan. He's apart of a Guild that has him wandering about the region, but he has no attachment to it and is never seen interacting with its members. The only person he has genuine ties to is Cogita, who must be related to him, but given the way they speak to each other it feels distant and strained, and I wouldn't call Cogita's demeanour to him particularly maternal.

We don't know Volo's backstory. I'm not trying to tackle his backstory (yet, anyway). But it's not a leap in logic to assume that Volo has had to deal with some shit, and it only seems likely Pokemon were involved in hardships.

I can't help but think the term "conquer your fears" is very applicable to Volo. Let's go into his party more.

Arcanine: "Snaps at its foes with fangs cloaked in blazing flame. Despite its bulk, it deftly feints every which way, leading opponents on a deceptively merry chase as it all but dances around them."

Spiritomb: "It lays curses by thinking wicked thoughts. Writing tells that this Pokemon was born out of the assembly of five score and eight malevolent spirits."

Roserade: "Hidden within the bouquet on each hand are throned whips loaded with virulent poison. Roserade moves gracefully as it corners its prey and mercilessly lashes them with its whips."

Garchomp: "Soars across the heavens at blinding speed - a magnificent sight! It has a feral disposition. Utmost caution is required if one meets a Garchomp out in the wilds."

These four Pokemon are TERRIFYING. They're all known as either feral, wicked or have behavior patterns of playing with their prey. Lucario is an outlier to the rest of the team here, but given Lucario's unique history with legends and myths throughout the franchise I'm going to overlook its inclusion as an exception, not a rule. The reason I'm pointing out that this team is filled with monsters is because I think Volo was very selective in the team he built. Both powerful tools to help him rapidly chase his goals, but also reliable for protection in the wilds given their impressive might.

So for the most part Volo has a scary team that has a lot of practical applications, both offensively and defensively. And I think he's been perfectly content to treat these Pokemon with respect, but at a distance.

But what about Togekiss?

I will throw hands over this - that man loves his fucking Togekiss.

Togekiss is powerful but it doesn't fit the team dynamic at all, given its reputation as a symbol of peace in the Pokemon world. And Volo's had this thing since it was a Togepi - we know it's the same one because Togepi and Togekiss are always female when you battle him. This man has a photo of him posing with his funny little egg outside the photography studio. It is THE friendship evolution, more than any other, as with what the the Pokedex says about Togetic:

"Rumors abound that it evolves under the loving care of a trusted human companion, upon whom the Pokemon then bestows great joy."

So why is a Togepi apart of his team? Why is it the first Pokemon you ever see him use, but it's only level 5 despite how much he obviously adores the thing? Why is it the exception to the rule?

Togepi had always been an interesting Pokemon within the franchise. It has an infantile design, its first ever anime appearance was as an egg that was hatched by Misty and then was raised diligently over the course of (multiple?) Seasons, and in Platinum you receive it as an egg from Cynthia and have the choice to hatch it and raise it as your own. Togepi is a baby Pokemon - the FIRST baby Pokemon if I'm remembering this right.

And you know what babies aren't? Threatening. They are unassuming blobs of life tumbling through new experiences that are utterly harmless and completely dependent on others.

Here's a thought, a bit of a headcannon: Volo is young and afraid of Pokemon, he's never had a Pokemon before, but then he's given an egg (from Cogita most likely) and told he's responsible for its well-being. It hatches, and the baby Togepi is unassuming as can be and it is dependent on him. This isn't a monster that can wreak devastating harm on people, it's an infant that needs loving care and attention.

Togekiss is the exception to a team of terrifying, violent beasts with aggressive dispositions because Volo was given the chance to love it despite it being a Pokemon. And I think that's true regardless of how and when he got his Togepi.

And I personally think the reason Togepi is so low-level at the start of the game is because Volo didn't want it to be apart of the team? For whatever reason he changes his mind, but I imagine it would be hard to resort to using a trusted companion in battle if you aren't able to think of battles as something positive to experience with a partner.

ALL OF THAT being said, though, at the end of the game Volo learns that lesson. He Weilds Pokemon, and you train them. You trust your pokemon and will seize your dreams with them at your side.

So maybe Volo too could take that lesson to heart and learn to accept all of his pokemon as his family. Something obviously went right by the time we get down to Cynthia, after all.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship  <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.” 

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction. 

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves. 

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year. 

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over. 

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture. 

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.” 

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”  

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve. 

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line. 

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t. 

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up. 

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.” 

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank. 

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.” 

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on. 

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in. 

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing. 

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion. 

Nicholas?

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury. 

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly. 

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?” 

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it. 

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday. 

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table. 

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too. 

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group. 

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running. 

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces. 

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation. 

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately. 

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account. 

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop. 

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu. 

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there. 

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay. 

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you. 

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?” 

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?” 

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside. 

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense. 

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining. 

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass. 

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise. 

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.” 

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter. 

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly. 

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing. 

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing. 

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm. 

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report. 

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system. 

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board. 

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief. 

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them. 

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought. 

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods. 

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.” 

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.” 

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face. 

He narrows his eyes at you. 

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case. 

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted. 

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated. 

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.” 

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial. 

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done. 

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks. 

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind. 

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots. 

There was no going back now. 

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously. 

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt. 

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly. 

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.” 

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.” 

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.” 

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you. 

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago. 

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically. 

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes. 

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability. 

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave. 

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you. 

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly. 

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future. 

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk. 

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him. 

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.” 

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery. 

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.  

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.  

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face. 

His stomach does a flip. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him. 

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?” 

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice. 

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off. 

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.” 

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator. 

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing. 

Gosh.

Next part

[tempenensis]

Hey Lele, wondering if I can get your thoughts on this post? It never occurred to me that the tattoos might be there for the audience's sake. https://hellomikky.tumblr.com/post/669393637715640320/actually-nobody-in-jujutsu-kaisen-universe-can

I wanted to comment about this, but I hold myself back. However since you're sending this to my askbox, it means you're ready for whatever I will be saying

For starter, uh... sorry. I don't see how this makes sense

First, if it's not supposed to be seen by the characters, then why bother to draw it in the first place? That would be more energy-saving for the super-busy mangaka.

Second, the panels used here can be explained the other way.

As you can see here, when Fushiguro asking himself, the lines are just disappearing. Sukuna is a special-grade curse. Assuming he's a normal person, Itadori wouldn't be able to survive, let alone maintaining his own sense of self. Curse lies. Sukuna is a special-grade curse spirit. In a case where he took over a body who can't suppress him, I think it would be easy for him to try to deceive the sorcerer he's fighting against by making himself looking more human.

Same case with the second panel.

Gojo is trying to see if Yuuji is possessed or not, as he said if Yuuji wakes up unpossessed, it would show that Yuuji has a talent as a vessel. At this point, they are still not sure about Yuuji being a special case or can be taken over at any time. As I said above, if it's Sukuna, it's easy for him to try to disguise himself as human to fool them, if Yuuji hasn't a tight rein on him.

Gojo only sure about Yuuji's ability to suppress Sukuna after he gave him the second fingers.

And the third panel from Shibuya arc.

We know from the next chapter Sukuna is the one who actually put Fushiguro near the medic camp. Sukuna is running - and as a curse, he's very fast, way more than normal humans. And as we know Itadori is also faster than normal human speed.

Rather, if his line is unseen, then Yaga wouldn't be able to recognize him as Sukuna, and would've only assumed the person as being Itadori. But Yaga considers both of them, meaning that he can actually see the lines that set them apart (this also a testament to his strength as sorcerer since he almost recognize Sukuna when he is running very fast).

So the lines might be coming from having strong level of curse energy, right? Like you can see in Hanami and the seal in Inumaki's mouth. Rather, the sorcerer characters are the one who can see them. Us readers don't have enough curse energy so we are the one who shouldn't be able to see it. So sensei help us readers by drawing it lmao

Another matter; seal or fuu like you see in Inumaki's mouth are traditionally drawn using ink in paper. If it can't be seen then it would've been easier for Inumaki clan to hide themselves since they were considered outlaws by jujutsu authority. But the fact that they are extinct means that they can be easily recognizable from the seal in their mouth

So yeah. Sorry, I don't agree with this take.

[abarbaricyalp]

A Time For Dancing

Rated T // 19k words // AO3 // Prompt: Based on a movie

This was written for one of the days of the Sambucky AU Week but clearly it was late

Sam Wilson has lived in the same hometown all his life. A hometown that outlaws public dancing. When Bucky Barnes moves from New York, with unstoppable feet and a charming smile, Sam accepts the things he wants to change and examines his own desires. They plan a high school dance (Footloose AU)

The thing was, Sam had a rebellious streak in him a mile wide. But, after watching his brother implode and disappear when Sam was 13, he was finding it difficult to ever act on any of his be-a-pain-in-the-ass urges in any meaningful way. Their small coastal town was strict and religious in a way that Sam sometimes couldn’t believe existed in a world with rock and roll music and big-budget hollywood movies. He supposed it helped that there the local theater was carefully vetted and there were no music venues of any kind in the town. No dancing at all, in fact.

Gideon and his friends were the last good push for rebellion. They threw dances in fields just outside of the city limits and pilfered alcohol from friends already in college. In the half decade since, the only rebellious spirits weren’t actually rebellious, they were just assholes. The kind of guys who jacked up their trucks and put foghorns on them and ran people off the road into ditches just because they could. The kind that started fights if someone’s voice or style wasn’t right. The kind who’d trip a quiet kid with bags of groceries. 

Sam couldn’t get behind that kind of bullshit. Gideon, he’d follow all over town, taking detailed mental notes as they went along, but everything Gideon did needed a crowd with him. If Sam posted up in a field with a boombox and David Bowie, he’d just be a weirdo. Steve Rogers might appear anywhere there was a righteous fight to be had. But he wasn’t a sure bet. Every change in weather down here seemed to try to kill him and the harried, upset looks his mother could send him would otherwise do the rest. Sam had been in the office after some fight of Steve’s and had seen the way his mother had come in, all concern and disappointment and no anger. Anger, Sam could work with, push back against. Disappointment? That was the killer.

But Bucky Barnes had appeared, with his loud bike and blaise attitude and ready fists and endless questions. God, the kid had so many questions. “Everyone down here’s Baptist? Even the Catholics?” “What do you mean the theater isn’t gonna show the new Farrah Fawcett movie?” “A dry country? Are you kidding? This ain’t the wild west.” “How do you live without dancing?” “It’s a law? It’s a law from when?” “Don’t you guys ever have fun?”

He was the antithesis to everything the town had built itself up to be without even trying. He carried a leather coat everywhere, even though the thermometers were still tipping 100. He cursed like a sailor. He played the loudest music Sam had ever heard. He pushed back on every rule he came up against. Sam knew he still hadn’t cut his hair. He just kept it pinned up enough to be within dress code standards. He knew because he’d put his hands through all of that hair, leaned up against that terrible bike of his.

He drove Sam nuts. He really did. Sam hated the way he always walked into service late. He hated the roar of his bike–honest, you could tell when he was still five minutes off ‘cause you could hear it. He hated the c**ky grin he wore all the time because it was infuriating and unearned. He was everything Sam wanted to be and was still too scared to reach for. Which meant Sam really liked him too. They could butt heads all day, but he was so down for whatever terrible idea came out of Bucky’s mouth when he grabbed Sam’s wrist and hauled him away from a diner booth or school desk or church pew.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Just read your paranoid Bella post (it was awesome) and what stood out to me is that in these kinds of AUs the Quiletes seem to be kinda left out. If I recall, Billie actively tried to warn Bella that Cullens are bad news and even argued w Charlie about that. How do you think a scenario with Bella who’s not interested in Edward and instead rekindles her childhood friendship w Jacob from the get go (mb befriends Leah too? and is known as ‘the kid w her own company outside of school’) could go?

The post anon is referencing.

I guess I can answer this earlier than I would normally. Sometimes it's good to shuffle the posts around!

Why No Quileute?

Many of the AUs people ask about center around either the Twilight period (something about Bella is significantly different before Twilight begins), the New Moon period (New Moon changes in such a significant manner that Eclipse never happens), or very rarely the post Breaking Dawn period (Bella's off prancing in the woods and Jake is just kind of there).

With the first two especially the circumstances make it unlikely Bella will significantly cross paths with Jake let alone discover the secret of the wolves and meet the rest of the Tribe.

What Do You Mean Bella Might Not Find Out?!

Remember, Jake was not Bella's childhood friend, that was his older sisters. When Bella stops visiting Forks Jake, only a few years younger, seemed like light years younger than Bella Swan. He was not on her radar at all and was that annoying kid brother.

Even as a teenager, Bella's clearly bothered by the age gap between them, seeing it as much larger than it really is.

In the beginning of Twilight she's pleased to see Jake, is willing to flirt with him for information, but she's not at all interested. She only seeks him out in New Moon to work on the motorcycles with him as free labor. From that, the friendship we see through the rest of the series grows.

Before that, though, Billy was more on Bella's radar than Jake ever was. And Billy in canon is Bella's slight enemy as he tries to warn her away from Edward the vampire. Well, Bella certainly knows more than him! So, there, Billy!

As for the wolves themselves, they didn't want to tell Bella, Sam had Jake cut all ties. By happenstance Jake had happened to tell Bella this story and he happens to be able to jog her memory. Had that not happened, she would have assumed he left her just as Edward did and sunk even deeper into depression.

Likely, Charlie would have sent her to live with her mother.

She would never find out the mysteries of the "bears" in the woods, would never meet all the members of the tribe, would never truly develop her deep friendship with Jacob, and she and the Quileute would simply not cross paths.

Bella and the tribe very easily could have been ships passing in the night.

Why No Quileute in Paranoid Bella AU?

Now, this is a Bella who does not want to be with Edward but she's also a paranoid, terrified, wreck. Edward is sneaking into her room every night before Bella gets to First Beach

I imagine she likely does not go to the beach, or if she does, pointedly does not ask anyone about Edward. NOPE, SHE KNOWS NOTHING. Because for all she knows, Edward is hiding somewhere in the bushes watching her.

He, after all, has dropped hints that he knows everything that happens to her.

Bella doesn't know about the treaty at this point and that Edward cannot physically go to La Push.

When Billy gives her cryptic hints, she probably gives him deer in the headlights looks and debates scribbling "SAVE ME" on a sheet of paper, but for all she knows Billy is a human and stands no chance against Edward. In that moment, Edward is right outside her house, in his car, listening to every word.

If Bella tells Billy to get her the fuck out, she might very well be condemning him to be eaten.

"AHAHAHAHAHA BILLY, I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND. SO MUCH."

When Billy sends Jake to Prom, Bella is in Edward's arms, right at that moment. Worse, unlike Billy, Jake does think this is ridiculous and is utterly mortified at interrupting her date like this.

Bella wants to cry.

"AHAHAHAHA, JAKE, I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND. SO MUCH."

Point being though, Edward doesn't tell Bella about the wolves, and she likely doesn't know about them from the beach. So to her, the Quileutes are just humans who seem to know what she knows. Edward likely never expands on this as he never has to in this universe. So he also never explains things like the treaty. This means they are just normal people who stand no better chance against Edward than she does. She can't go running to them for sanctuary, screaming, and potentially have Edward eat the entire tribe as he would have Biology class.

Just as she wouldn't put her mother or Charlie in danger, Paranoid Bella will not knowingly endanger the tribe.

Paranoid Bella Rekindles Her Friendship with Jake (and Leah Comes Along for the Ride)

Let's say Bella does go to First Beach and notes that Edward says he can't make it for whatever reason. Bella's not sure she believes this but he does seem unnaturally disappointed.

Sam drops his "The Cullens aren't welcome here" ominous line and Bella stares at him long and hard. He seems to know something, might even know the same something she knows, in the first timeline she likely decides it's not worth the risk of Edward overhearing them.

In this one though... this may be her only chance to gather information.

Sam is intimidating and scary looking (which is too bad as he's the one who could actually do something in this situation). So she resorts to her "bad flirting with Jake" plan.

Once again, it works, but this time Bella's soul dies inside.

Oh yeah, the Cullens are vampires and eat people (Bella knew it, SHE KNEW IT) but Jake thinks it's all superstitious nonsense. The only way he has heard of to kill them are noble werewolf spirit warriors from the tribe. But they have the treaty with the Cullens because they don't eat people on purpose (Bella cries inside).

No, Jake's never heard of anyone being an actual spirit warrior, don't be stupid, Bella. It's just an old legend.

Bella leaves the beach miserable.

The Quileute Tribe clearly knows but it seems like there's nothing they can do about it either.

BuT EdWArD's StIll In HeR RoOm aT NiGHt!

Bella decides it's worth the risk.

She drives to Billy's, watching for Edward tailgating her at every moment, but sees no sign of him (thank god). Luckily for her, in this early Twilight period, Edward was trying to pretend not to be a lunatic. So he wasn't running down her car yet like he was in Eclipse.

He's very unhappy she's visiting land he cannot go on but will pretend everything's fine. THIS IS FINE. SHE COULD BE EATEN BY BEARS BUT THIS IS FINE.

Bella confesses to Billy that Edward Cullen, the vampire, is sneaking into her bedroom at night to watch her sleep and she is certain he will try to eat her.

This was not what Billy had hoped or expected to hear from Bella Swan.

Those demonic motherfuckers.

Billy likely debates calling Carlisle, the head of the coven (who genuinely would be appalled by all of this), but he doesn't trust any of these people. He assumes Edward is grooming Bella to be Dracula's Bride (he is) and that this is just a thing vampires do (it's not).

But the Tribe cannot go to war with the Cullens.

They have only one wolf at this point, Sam, who is at this point still a teenager and untried in combat. He would be fighting seven vampires alone, they would be condemning him, and the tribe itself to a massacre.

However, that they haven't come after Bella yet is perhaps a good sign. The Cullens may not want to break the treaty either (Billy doesn't realize it's just Edward out there who wants to break it).

So here's what they'll do, Bella will "rekindle" her friendship with Jacob. She'll come over every single day, immediately after school with no exceptions, and will live at their house every weekend.

No exceptions.

The Cullens cannot enter Quileute land and, if they do... Well then, I guess they prepare for war.

Jake is ecstatic, though weirded out, as Bella suddenly practically lives at his house. They get along very well and soon their friendship is formed. Jake keeps trying to date her though and Bella's not very interested.

As for Leah... Sorry anon, but Leah is at the most miserable point in her miserable life. She's been dumped by Sam for her cousin and she has no idea why this has happened and Sam offers no explanations. She's a ball of rage and misery and has no time for Jacob Black's jittery girlfriend from Forks.

Meanwhile Edward is becoming annoyed.

He accepts the explanation that Bella and Jake are childhood friends, that she knew his sisters growing up, and that they've struck up their friendship again but... He doesn't like it.

He goes from imagining Mike Newton's head exploding to Jacob Black's head exploding.

Every day he curses that treaty and thinks it's so damn convenient that Bella keeps running off to the one place he can't follow.

He sits and he seethes.

...

And I stop here.

Wherever this path leads, anon, it is not one we should follow.

[for-the-ninth]

Happy Friday!!! from the trope bingo card, "in a cabin in a middle of a snow storm" - Cullen and whoever you want? bonus if his book collection becomes relevant in some way 👀

Okay so first of all THANK YOU for this prompt because it was hilarious to write. Last week, I was sitting here thinking about who I could do this with and my brain immediately went to Cullen/Lavellan in my current fic timeline bc there’s nothing funnier than ppl who hate each other being forced to huddle for warmth HOWEVER in the spirit of challenging myself, here’s Cullen being awkward and Bull being…himself. (PS there's no snowstorm, just very cold rain and a cabin in the Fallow Mire lololol) @dadrunkwriting this post is brought to you by tequila

***

“Really comin’ down out there, huh?” Bull stood—hunched, rather; the cabin was too small for him and his horns—and stared out the window, sipping his flask and soaking the floor with wet clothes he seemed in no hurry to change out of. 

“Indeed, it is,” Cullen muttered, scrambling to free himself from the horrendous texture of wet socks clinging to damp skin. 

He searched the abandoned room for blankets, towels, old cloth—anything to stave off the bone-deep freeze of a rainy night in Ferelden. Everything was covered in a layer of dust, and he coughed as he shook it loose from an old quilt chewed to bits by whatever critters made it their home before he and Bull arrived. It was big enough for all of him, or maybe one of Bull’s legs.

“Here.” He thrust it in Bull’s direction. “I may have another rolled up in my pack.”

Bull’s shoulders shook with laughter as he pinched the cloth between his thumb and forefinger, like a handkerchief. “Thanks, Commander. But I think I’ll manage.” 

“Suit yourself,” Cullen said. He rifled through his pack, mumbling curses under his breath. Everything was soaked—his tools and spare clothes, the matches, his—

“No, no, no.” He pulled a leatherbound book from the bottom of the pile, shaking his head with furrowed brow. Though the cover survived, rain seeped through to the binding, and the pages were falling out in sopping, haphazard clumps. 

Bull crouched on his heels by Cullen’s side, lips pursed. “You brought…books?”

“Yes, I brought books,” Cullen snapped. “Some of us like to read.” Bull maintained his gaze, brows raised, and took another swig from his flask. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Any drawings in these books of yours?” 

“Any…what?” Cullen shook his head. “I’m not following.”  

Bull grinned. “Pictures, Commander.” He peered over Cullen’s shoulder as he tried to reassemble the pages. “Maybe of the naked variety.” 

“Andraste, preserve me.” Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “No, Bull. There are no pictures of nude women in my book collection.” 

Bull chuckled. “Never said it had to be women.” He stood, took a final drink from his flask, and started undressing. “Can’t believe you brought books to the fucking Fallow Mire.”

Cullen’s cheeks grew hot, both from embarrassment over his penchant for nighttime reading and the abrupt sight of Bull’s naked ass in full view. He knew better than to stare—if Bull caught him, Cullen would never hear the end of it—but when he was at eye level with Bull’s…endowment, it became exceedingly difficult not to. 

“Jealous, or horny?” Bull asked, grinning. 

“Neither. I, erm…” Cullen cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “Well, we should settle in for the night.” He resumed rifling through his pack, inwardly groaning at the sorry state of his books. Why had he brought them to the fucking Fallow Mire, of all places? Perhaps because he knew, per usual, when the group paired off, the Inquisitor would send him out with Bull. The only thing more irksome than Shielan’s juvenile teasing was Bull’s, and the only way to avoid it entirely was to cozy up with a book and ignore him. 

“Those wet clothes are going to give you pneumonia, you know.” Bull kneeled at the fireplace in the center of the house and sighed. “Not a dry log in sight.” 

Shit. He was right. With no fire, no dry clothes, and temperatures that continued to sink, they’d be blocks of ice by morning. “What are you suggesting?” 

Bull took another swig from his flask. “Body heat.” 

Cullen swallowed thickly. “I’m not sure I follow…”

“Sure you do,” Bull said, chuckling. “Listen”—he turned to Cullen, who begged his eyes not to look down—“I don’t know what kind of hang-ups your people have around this sort of thing, but I’m good with it.” 

“Good with…what, exactly?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Bull leaned his head back and sighed. “Unless you want to wake up with frozen toes, we have to spoon—naked.” A devilish smirk crossed his face. “Don’t worry, Commander. I’ll let you keep your little blanket.“

Cullen clutched the aforementioned blanket to his chest, eliciting a maniacal cackle from Bull’s throat. He was not a prude. 

...

Fine. He was a bit of a prude. But he hadn’t a great deal of time to devote to bodily pleasures over the years, nor had they been encouraged in his position—and Bull certainly wasn’t making things easier. Perhaps this sort of routine melted the hesitations of women in the tavern. All it did for Cullen was make his muscles clench. 

He huffed a nervous laugh, one hand running down the back of his neck. “You could at least buy me a drink first.” 

Bull howled with laughter, and very nearly choked on his latest gulp of whatever bitter concoction lived in his flask. He slammed a fist into his chest and coughed. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Commander.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” Cullen said. “It’s not my title anymore.” 

“Ah.” Bull waved his hand and plopped down next to Cullen. “Consider it a nickname, then.” He looked Cullen up and down, tutting. “Hate to be pushy, but we should probably get this thing going before your tiny body gives out from the cold.”

Cullen wrinkled his nose. “I am not tiny.”

Bull gave him a little pat on the back. “You’re all tiny to me.” 

“Fair enough.” Cullen cleared his throat, searching for what to say. “If you could just…erm…” He twirled his finger in a circle. 

Another ripple of laughter shook Bull’s body, but he obliged, and turned away. “By all means, take your time. I’m not freezing my ass off or anything.” 

“I’ll be quick about it,” Cullen muttered, and he meant it. The sooner he got undressed, the sooner they could get this over with. 

“Hand me your clothes and I’ll hang them up.”

Cullen shoved each article into Bull’s waiting hand without checking to see if he’d turned his head. Maybe he peeked and maybe he hadn’t. Knowing would make Cullen no less embarrassed. 

As Bull threw their clothes over someone’s old dresser, Cullen shook the blanket a second time—how was it still so dusty?—and settled onto the floor.

“Not the bed?” Bull asked. 

“Well no, I…” Cullen cleared his throat again. “I assumed you wouldn’t fit. No offense.” 

“None taken,” Bull said, and Cullen breathed a sigh of relief—he could hear the grin in the Qunari’s voice. “You ready for me?”

Maker, was he? When was the last time he’d touched another? Long enough for him to forget. Long enough for him to forget what it felt like to yearn for it. It’s only a matter of practicality, he told himself, which was true! There was no need to stress himself over what boiled down to survival. 

“Come on, then.” He waved Bull over, back turned to avoid his eyes, and prayed there’d be no further comments about his “tiny” body. Then again, he’d assumed the position of the smaller spoon without question, so perhaps his comrade had a point. 

Bull sank to the floor and reclined alongside him. He did so quietly, his movements soft and careful, and pulled Cullen closer, until skin met skin. He wrapped his arm around Cullen’s body, palm pressed against his chest, and Cullen’s breath quickened. 

He felt trapped, suffocated all the sudden, like the room was closing in. His body shook harder, and he clenched his jaw, fighting the irrational urge to struggle. 

Bull loosened his grip. “Easy, Commander,” he murmured. “I’m not going to bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

Cullen forced himself to laugh until it felt real. “I might be, if you ever get around to buying me that drink.” 

Over the next hour, the Qunari distracted him with absurd stories he’d never believe if he didn’t know Bull, tales that encouraged questions and kept him laughing until his muscles unfurled, and he allowed himself to settle into the warm reprieve Bull’s body provided. It wasn’t until his eyelids grew heavy that Cullen realized how easily he'd been disarmed by a Ben-Hassrath. But maybe that was okay. He was warm, and he was safe.

Maybe it would all be okay.

[crispyjenkins]

Can we get a fic where Jaster somehow gets sent to the future or something and him reacting to the clones? (Being pissed off that his ad would do something like this to these poor kids/ just reacting to them?)

(this one was so. fecking. hard. to write, i’ve been struggling with it for weeks, but i’m glad i did, because this is by far the best version i made of it. it’s interesting in how much my opinion of jango’s decision to be the template has changed since i first got this ask, and i was definitely coming at it with this post in mind for their characterisations here.

i love hondo. so you get hondo knowing jaster from pre-civil war days, and i don’t care if canon disagrees: hondo ohnaka has been terroising house mereel for three generations.

also i’ve already had a few people donate to my ko-fi and i’m completely floored by your kindness and generosity, and i sat down with this fill knowing i wanted to get it out as soon as possible. i sincerely love you all, i hope you’re all healthy and being as safe as possible.)

Alt+R to Quick Reblog on Desktop, Hold the Reblog Symbol to Quick Reblog on Mobile

  “Oh, Jango? We keep him here.” —Lama Su, AotC

-

  By some will of the Ka’ra, it’s Boba that finds him.

  The possibility of dying in his ad’s arms hadn’t exactly crossed Jaster’s mind until it happened, like a nightmare he had never even had. For the first time since the Fett farm burned, Jaster cursed the Ka’ra, and he curses them again when he wakes up not marching* to the stars, but standing knee-deep in the snows of Galidraan

  And the Ka’ra make sure he knows it’s Galidraan though he had never been there, just as he somehow knows Jango is long-since dead. That he is a dislocated bone in the universe, snapped out of time and place and thrown into a future where Jango’s face stares at him from a body that is not his.

  “Oh,” the teen with Jango’s nose says, the snow coming all the way up to their thighs, and they don't look dressed nearly warm enough for this biome. “Did Hondo send you?”

  Jaster blinks at them. “Did...? No, ad’ika, I have not spoken to Hondo in many years.” Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised Hondo is even still alive, Maker knows Jaster’s tried to kill him enough times himself, but if the number of years since his death on Korda Six is as many as he thinks it is, surely someone would have shot him by now.

  The teen doesn’t wear beskar’gam —it’s unlikely they’re even old enough to— but the style of the armor they do wear cannot be inspired by anything else, just reminiscent enough of evaar’gam that Jaster can’t help comparing every little detail about them with the faded image of Jango in his mind.

  “Then who the kriff are you?” They eye Jaster warily, left hand twitching towards the vibroblade at their hip.

  Promising to strangle every one of the Ka’ra when he can finally march away, and throwing the last of his caution down to the snow between them, Jaster simply says, “Jaster Mereel.”

  Impossibly, though maybe not entirely, not-Jango doesn’t laugh at him, or call him crazy, or even try to shoot him with the rifle slung over their shoulder. No, they straighten to their full height, and—

  And swear so colorfully in Huttese that Jaster knows this hell-child has absolutely been raised by Hondo Ohnaka.

-

  Boba takes him to the ruins of Kamino first, where the kriffing Sith Empire has destroyed another one of his people’s homes. 

  The growth labs were all blown into the ocean by imperial ilk soon after the formation of the empire, but the barracks and some of the training rooms still stand above the waves. In the ship he says belonged to Jango, Boba steers them to a dilapidated landing pad, controlling the Slave I (Maker, had Jaster really left Jango to that fate?) far too easily through the rubble for this to be his first time to return, and Jaster tries not to think about what that means.

  Walking the dark, grimy white halls, seeing the narrow bunks and bare req rooms, he then tries not to think about a child being raised in such a place, about hundreds of thousands of children being raised in such a place. How had Jango... chosen this for them?

  “I only have his stories,” Boba tells him quietly, when he shows Jaster the tiny apartment the Kaminoans had given them to “keep Jango close”. It’s bigger than most captain’s cabins, to be sure, but it is just as plain and white as the rest of the facility. “But he couldn’t even get one hundred Mandalorians to come and train the... clones.” He shuffles his feet uncomfortably as Jaster looks into the cupboard-sized kitchen and tries not to break down at the package of Mandalorian chiles rotted away on the counter. “Everyone else was New Mandalorian or Death Watch.”

  “And the rest... they fell at the Battle of Galidraan?”

“Buir always called it a massacre,” he looks away. “Only a handful of the Cuy’val Dar even considered themselves True Mandalorians, buir was there when the Jedi killed the rest.”

  Jaster inhales deeply, takes a few moments to steady himself, and is sickeningly, horrifyingly relieved. By the Maker, but knowing Jango had had no one left before his Kamino contract, that not even Skirata followed the codex anymore, that Jango had only taken the job after forcing Tyranus to give him an unaltered clone, makes Jaster guilty for having doubted his foundling. It doesn’t excuse anything, of course, but knowing Jango had done it all for aliit, well, it does make it easier to swallow.

  Boba leads him back out of the apartment, he had already stripped it of anything important years ago, and they don’t stick around after reboarding the Slave I. Only after they’re out of atmosphere with hyperspace coordinates for Tatooine in the astronav system does Boba join Jaster in the tiny galley with a bottle of tihaar that Jaster should probably reprimand him for, but won’t.

  “He tried to pretend he didn’t care, about the others,” Boba says and doesn’t even bother to find them glasses, “I think some days he even believed it.”

  “He always was stubborn as a rancor.”

  Boba takes a long pull from the bottle before passing it across the table. “Tyranus scared the shit out of me back then, he was too... put together, too fancy. Buir didn’t like him, I don’t know why he even did the tryout for him, the pay wasn’t even that great?”

  Rubbing his left eye until he sees stars, Jaster stares down into the bottle until he can come up with a way to explain core Mandalorian beliefs to a child that had barely a decade of living as one before that, too, had been taken from him. “If Jang’ika took that job intending to come out on the other side, I’ll kiss whatever Vizsla is left.”

  Boba’s mouth twists and he kicks his heels against the floor, not waiting for Jaster to hand it to him to grab the tihaar back. “Buir was an idiot,” he says, like the solve to a simple math problem, and Jaster can’t but agree.

  He sighs. “Unfortunately, he probably got that from somewhere.”

  “I mean, at least Montross didn’t live long enough to end up as the template? Kriffing fuck, can you imagine if the Jedi had had to work with that shabuir’s clones?”

  “Maybe the war would have ended sooner,” he muses and accepts the bottle, “surely this Emperor would have tired of his face much sooner than Jango’s.”

  “Or the Coruscant Guard would have shivved Palpatine in his sleep and tried to take over the Republic; what’s one betrayal of your leader to another?”

  “Then I’d like to think Jango would put him, them, in their place for a third time.”

  Snorting, Boba pushes to his feet to, presumably, check on the autopilot. “If buir would have even let it get that far, then I’ll kiss Vizsla.”

-

  “Old friend!” Hondo shouts as soon as he sees them, and Jaster winces, nursing his first hangover since his twenties.

  “Ohnaka,” he returns, and pretends he doesn’t notice the subtle way Boba brightens as Hondo comes to clap them both on the shoulders.

  The old pirate just chuckles and starts to steer them both back across the hangar bay to his latest junk ship. “I heard you died, Mand’alor,” he says casually, like the title isn’t cursed to the ka’ra and back, like it hadn’t been three decades since anyone had dared call someone from his house such a thing so sincerely.

  “I did.”

  “I found him on Galidraan,” Boba offers. “Is that why you told me to go?”

  Hondo scoffs, and Jaster would say he was flustered if he didn’t know him better. “No, I told you to go because Aurra had a job for you, that you seem to have forgotten about in your haste to bring my long lost best friend back to me.”

  Boba scowls. “Aurra wasn’t at the meeting place, laandur, it was a kriffing mynock chase and you know it.”

  Jaster side eyes his old “friend”, and wonders again about his preternatural... luck in all things pirate-related, despite being a boisterous mess of a man most of the time. If this Aurra had even been on the planet when Boba got there, Jaster will kiss Vizsla twice. 

-

Mando’a: Ka'ra — an ancient Mandalorian story, ruling council of fallen kings, “stars” ad — “child”, gender neutral 'ika — diminutive suffix, similar to the suffix “ita/o” in Spanish. generally used only by close family and friends beskar'gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy evaar'gam — lit. “youth armour”, fan name for the interim armour/garb Mandalorians would have worn before building their kit of beskar’gam buir — “parent”, gender neutral  Cuy'val Dar — “Those who no longer exist”, group of 75 Mando’ade and 25 others put together by Jango to train the clones aliit — “clan”, “family” tihaar — Mandalorian strong clear spirit made from fruit shabuir —  an extreme insult, mostly accepted in fandom to be an insult of an individual’s ability to parent (from buir), which is an intrinsic part of Mandalorian psyche and identity  laandur — used here as “weak”, “pathetic”, but is usually used as “delicate”, “fragile”

*in reference to the Mando’a word for the dead/deceased “taab'echaaj'la”, or “marched far away”, best explained in the Mando’a tribute to dead comrades, “not gone, merely marching far away”. 

[hotpinkstaples]

August 23rd - 29th, 2021

Monday, August 23rd - Hero/Villain Swap // Cyberpunk AU

Tuesday, August 24th - Curses // Ancestors

Wednesday, August 25th - Japanese Mythology // Greek Mythology

Thursday, August 26th - Friends to Enemies // Enemies to Lovers

Friday, August 27th - Kingdom Lore // Non-Human Lore

Saturday, August 28th - Freedom // Calamity

Sunday, August 29th - Free Day

Purpose?

To increase the amount of and diversify fanworks in the Black Clover fandom featuring canon characters!!

But we have a general Black Clover Week, so why should we participate in this one?

Good question!! The main purpose of this week is to showcase Tabata’s cast of characters through various prompts that are not relegated to the just safe-for-tunglr dot hell environment. In fact, this week will not have a dedicated blog that will be collecting these works. Instead, these prompts are free for anyone to use and publish on their preferred social media, archives, and landing sites (Tunglr, Twitter, AO3, Livejournal, etc). Because it is a non-traditional, non-monetized, and free-to-opt-in casual event, there will be no mods but moi, no advertising of paid services, or participant restrictions.

To reiterate, this event will solely focus on canon characters, and will NOT encourage Original Characters and Self-Inserts as the center of the fancontent. This an opportunity for people who’d like to explore canon characters, dynamics, and relationships to come forth and get their creative juices flowing. Crackshipping between canon actors is encouraged, as well as darkfic, horrorfic, genre-specific work, and other both safe and not-safe-for-tunglr dot hell tropes.

So how does it work?

The release date for works is from Monday, the 23rd of August through Sunday, the 29th of August! 

Since this is a create-and-explore-at-will event, creators will be encouraged to write, draw, and create freely. Readers and viewers will be encouraged to engage with whatever content they feel comfortable with.

In order to ensure that both creators and readers/viewers are making informed decisions about what they engage with, all creators must include all triggers, genre specifications, ships, and warnings in their posts so that people are free to opt out of engaging with the work. 

All safe-for-tunglr fanfiction should be under a read-more. Safe-for-tunglr fanart does not need to be under a read-more. 

Not-safe-for-tunglr fanwork should be LINKED to whatever landing site the content is being hosted on (Twitter, AO3, etc). This includes both fanfiction and fanart. I don’t want anyone getting their blog banned because they forgot tunglr dot hell no longer supports 6k pwp between Vanica and Undine the water spirit.

And last but not least - if you are engaging with any of the fancontent, reblog, reblog, reblog! Share the work with your followers. Send all the love to the creators for crafting their masterpieces!!

What can I contribute?

Fanart (standalones, comic strips, etc.), fanfiction (one-shots, multichapter, etc.), fanmixes, gifsets, graphics, meme collections, fanvids, whatever your heart desires! Go wild!!!

Can I create/write not-safe-for-tunglr dot hell content?

Yes!!!  All creators must include all triggers, genre specifications, ships, and warnings in their posts so that people are free to opt out of engaging with their work. All not-safe-for-tunglr fanfiction, fanart, and multimedia must be linked to a separate landing site (Twitter, AO3, etc.)!!!

And I reiterate, tag all triggers!!! All of them!!! I mean it, thotties!!!

What does (X) prompt mean?

Each day has two prompts!! You can either pick a prompt OR you can combine prompts in different ways.

For example, for Hero/Villain swap, you can do a traditional swap between a villain and a hero through artwork and other multimedia, OR, you can explore hero-to-bastard and bastard-to-hero dynamics through fanfiction and other multimedia. Let your imagination take you where you want to go with each prompt!! If you want to explore both curses and ancestors in the same fanart/fanfic, then be my guest!!

Both Canonverse and AU content is acceptable! Creativity is key! Have fun!!!

Can I crackship/multiship/harem/OT3/polyam the characters?

Absolutely!!! The only stipulation is that the characters must ALL be from the Black Clover CANON. If you want to write a throuple between Charmy, Henry, and Yami, then heck yeah!!! If you are writing a polycule with Vanessa, Finral, Nozel, and an OC, I will have to respectfully ask you not to participate in the week as the focus of the week are the characters of the Black Clover canon, and the purpose of the week is to increase and diversify fanworks that explore canon characters. Thank you for understanding!!!

Does this have a tag?

During release week, use the general “black clover” tag to share your work with the wider Black Clover fandom on tunglr. You can use whatever other tags you fancy. If you have work you’re not sharing on tunglr dot hell but would like to share with me, feel free to send me an ask with a link to the work!!

I have questions/comments/etc.

Send me an ask or a message!!!

I didn’t read a damn thing before this, Ava.

TL;DR: Almost four months left!!! For all content creators out there, now’s the time to start thinking about what prompts you want to utilize for your creations!! There are no creative restrictions, but I do ask that you follow these posting tips:

All safe-for-tunglr fanfiction should be under a read-more. 

Safe-for-tunglr fanart does not need to be under a read-more. 

Not-safe-for-tunglr fanwork should be LINKED to whatever landing site the content is being hosted on (Twitter, AO3, etc). This includes both fanfiction and fanart. I don’t want your blog getting flagged bc tunglr hates bewbs!!!

Provide contents warnings for all triggers, squicks, and genres. Unfortunately, Black Clover fandom has its share of Puritans, so PLEASE be sure to post warnings for all your fanfiction and fanart, even the tame stuff!!

You can participate as much as you want!! Maybe you only wanna create for one day? Cool! Maybe you’re an overachieving corporate clown insomniac like myself, and wanna create for every day of the week? Go for it!!! 

We’re almost four months away from release week, so take your time, sift through the prompts, and get your creative juices flowing! I will be sending out reminders every two weeks until the go-live date. Thanks, lads!!

For the people who showed interest during the initial interest check:

@kofiscrib, @silvyavan,  @avatarpabu97, @the-black-bulls, @princesshildahw, and @spindaonateaspoon​ 

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 11

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  “When we get out of here, Din will fly us far, far away,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the baby's resumed chewing. “I promise you we’ll be happy together.”

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,511

Warnings: captured reader, angst, bonding with Grogu, plot plot plot

Author Note: To anyone and everyone sticking with this series, I love you so much! I know the plot is more than a little thick right now, but answers are slowly but surely being revealed. 

Links to Part 1 and Part 10 and Part 12

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

You pace the length of the cell, brow furrowed as you try to organize your racing thoughts. Between the chilly atmosphere and the severed bond wailing for its other half, you imagine you outwardly resemble the jittery and unbalanced mess you feel internally. You refuse to feel humiliated by your appearance, not when the witnesses are Gideon and his minions. They can think what they want about you, believe they have broken your spirit, because that just means they won’t expect it when you free yourself until it’s too late.

However, part two of your plan of escape is proving to be more challenging to conceptualize than you initially thought. The collar is tightly wound around your neck to the point of chafing. Apparently the rule of being able to slip two fingers under a collar is only applicable to animals in Gideon’s eyes because your attempt of slipping your finger between skin and metal is dissuaded by another electric shock zipping through your body.

However, as you lightly trail your fingertips over the cold metal, you’re surprised to feel a noticeable dip in the back. It’s not a design flaw, you think as you try to visualize it in your mind. Your heartbeat quickens as realization strikes: it’s a keyhole.

Any excitement you might feel at your discovery is spoiled by the fact a keyhole is useless without a key. You look at the laser gate, further disappointed as you contemplate the complexity of the tunnel system. There could be dozens of cells down here, potentially thousands of hiding places for Gideon to keep the key to the collar secure. Not to mention, you don’t even know what the key looks like. It could be hanging right outside the cell and you’d have no idea.

Lost in the sea of disparaging thoughts, you don’t notice the return of the baby crawling through the hole in the wall until he latches onto your foot. Startled, you barely manage to refrain from shouting a curse as you stare down at him. He giggles, clearly amused by your wide-eyed expression, and then slaps a silver plastic bag against your shin using the hand that isn’t gripping his favorite black cloth.

“Did you bring me a present?” you ask, taking a seat on the pallet and lifting him up onto your lap. This time when you reach forward, he willingly lets you take the item from him instead of trying to take a chunk out of your hand.

You tear open the plastic, revealing its contents to be five teal-colored cookies.

“Wow, bud,” you murmur, holding one up between pinched fingers. The treat smells distinctively like vanilla. From what you’ve witnessed, you doubt Gideon is the type to offer his prisoners dessert with their meals which means these were probably stolen from somewhere. “Where did you find these?”

The baby only babbles unintelligibly in response, gesturing with his free hand in the direction of somewhere beyond the laser gate. You nod along, feigning understanding, but your eyes can’t help but drift to his collar when he turns his head. The keyhole for his collar is smaller than you expect to see which has you quickly theorizing there is not one universal key for all of the collars. If that theory is true, then it raises the difficulty of escaping yet another level.

With a sigh you cram the cookie into your mouth, finding the tiniest smidge of joy in its crunchiness.

“When we get out of here I’ll buy you a dozen boxes of these,” you tell him once you’ve swallowed, offering him one of the cookies. He coos excitedly and takes a large bite, uncaring of the blue crumbs that rain down upon his coat. “And once Din sees you, I bet he’ll want to spoil you rotten, too. He has a not-so-secret soft spot for kids.”

The baby’s head tilts, reacting to the name-drop by making a confused gurgling sound around his mouthful.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” you scold gently, tapping his nose with your finger and laughing under your breath when it proceeds to scrunch up in an adorable manner. Leaning your head back against the wall, you’re unable to keep the note of wistful longing out of your voice as you explain, “Din is my soulmate. To the rest of the world, he’s known as Death. They’ll have you believe he’s someone to be feared and avoided at all cost. But luckily I’m here to tell you the truth.”

He stares up at you, snack seemingly forgotten in favor of listening intently to every word coming out of your mouth. Distantly you think you should be a little scared by how intense his gaze is, as if he’s attempting to look past your skin to the soul beneath, but you remind yourself all babies are innately curious and don’t know it’s rude to stare.

“He’ll never admit to it himself, but underneath all that beskar armor, he is the most socially inept being in the galaxy. I swear, bud, the first time I met him I thought it was impossible for him to say more than two words or else he’d hurt himself.” Your lips twitch at the memory, the smallest of smiles you can make without it feeling forced. “Still, despite his horrible first impression, I couldn’t get him off my mind. I wouldn’t call it love at first sight, but—look, I know how crazy this sounds, okay? But I felt like I had to get to know him better. There was this voice in my head insisting we couldn’t just remain strangers. It took about ten thousand questions and three more meetings for me to earn his trust enough for him to take off his helmet and let me see his face.”

You take a deep breath and stroke your finger over the baby’s ears, needing to feel something other than the flaring pulse of pain from the bond. “One look at those beautiful brown eyes and I was done for.”

Saying Din’s eyes are brown feels sinful. It’s like saying the ocean is blue—accurate, but not detailed enough to describe its depth and volatility. There are days when his eyes are the shade of brown reminding you of leather bound journals—ancient and full of profound wisdom, meant to be admired and cherished for an entire lifetime. Other times, they are the kind of brown that matches your favorite chocolate pastry from the bakery down the street from your apartment—decadent and warm with the slightest hint of temptation.

“When we get out of here, Din will fly us far, far away,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the baby's resumed chewing. “I promise you we’ll all be happy together.”

And I’ll never get tired of seeing those brown eyes everyday.

~~

The hours start to bleed into one another. The baby snoozes in your lap, head pillowed on your thigh, but you have no idea if it’s night or day. Gideon had said he’d let you talk to Din ‘tomorrow’, but that doesn’t tell you how many days you’ve been here in total.

Your legs have started to feel numb from sitting in the same position so long, but the last thing you want is to wake him up by moving. The importance of him feeling safe enough to be vulnerable and sleep is not lost on you. His desire for attention and physical contact is so painfully obvious you hate thinking about how often he must have been ignored before your arrival.

As he sleeps, you’re unable to resist your curiosity any longer and carefully maneuver the piece of cloth out of his grip. Despite its aged and dirty appearance, it is still surprisingly soft to touch. Whatever article of clothing this was torn from must have been well-tailored, you think, imagining a hooded cloak or perhaps a long coat. Your nose twitches when you hold the cloth close to your face to better study it, reacting to the variety of odors embedded in the wool fibers. Maker knows how long the kid’s been dragging the fabric around with him without it being washed regularly, so you shouldn’t be surprised it has absorbed a couple dozen scents.

Still, the faint essence of smoke you detect swirls around in your brain even long after you’ve laid the cloth back over him like a makeshift blanket. Memories of your death start to resurface again despite your best mental efforts to push them away, causing your stomach to clench with nausea as you recall the horrific stench of charred remains.

It isn’t the same, you tell yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing your head to clear itself. It can’t be because that day was fifty years ago and he’s only just a baby.

You repeat these thoughts like a mantra until, without meaning to, you fall into a dreamless sleep.

~~

You’re startled awake by hands seizing hold of your arms and pulling you up onto your feet without warning. You yelp at the sudden rush back to consciousness, brain scrambling to make sense of everything. Your eyes sweep the ground, panic washing over you like a bucket of cold water when you fail to see a tiny green body.

“It’s time, pet,” the twi’lek’s voice hits your ears and you turn to see her standing near the cell’s entrance, a lantern in one hand and a shiny blade in the other. “The Moff is expecting you.”

It takes you a minute to process in your frazzled state, but you realize it must be time to talk to Din. You’re shoved forward by whoever has your arms twisted behind your back, but you manage another quick survey of the cell. There is no sign the baby was ever here and you send a quick prayer to the Maker he had snuck back through the hole without anyone seeing him.

You have mixed feelings about not being blindfolded as you’re led through the underground labyrinth. On one hand, you get to observe everything and everyone you come across, making as many mental notes to flip through later when you’re alone. On the other, you think this must be an intimidation tactic. Gideon wants you to see everything so you know with absolute certainty how high the odds are stacked against you.

There are cells identical in appearance to yours on either side of you, carved into the tunnel rock and blocked from entry by laser gates. Except not one of them contains a prisoner. Either you have severely overestimated the size of Gideon’s collection, or he is purposefully keeping you separate from the rest for reasons known only to him.

Another surprising and unsettling observation you make is how many different types of species Gideon has employed as minions—human, rodian, trandoshan, you even spot a devaronian in the mix. Except for the Cupid twi��lek in front of you, everyone you come across is mortal. It does not make much sense to you why a seraph as powerful as Gideon is relying on mortal henchmen to help maintain control of his secret prison. Your gut instinct is insisting you’re missing a vital piece of information and you don’t like being in the dark about it.

The tunnel you’re being marched down eventually opens up into a larger cavernous space with several dozen lanterns hanging along the walls providing ample lighting. There are several crates spread about the area, and some have been pried open to reveal they are packed full of blasters and ammunition. You rack your brain trying to determine the purpose of the weapons. Yes, clearly, they are meant to cause havoc and destruction, but why are they here? Who or what is the target they will be aimed at?

Gideon stands in the middle of the room next to an empty chair. On his other side is a mortal human male, bald-headed with ginger facial scruff, who has two blaster pistols holstered around his chest and yet another one held by a droid arm attached to his backpack. Overkill much?

You’re shoved in the direction of the chair and gruffly told to sit. Huffing, you wordlessly obey and try not to squirm as all eyes lock onto you as if you’re going to perform a trick for their entertainment.

“You have a minute to record your message,” Gideon says, holding out a piece of paper towards you. “These words I have prepared must be included in those precious sixty seconds or you might find me reluctant to allow you to send a second recording.”

Is he serious? This isn’t the arrangement you previously discussed with him.

“Record?” you repeat, reluctantly taking the paper.

“I never said you would have the opportunity of speaking to Death face-to-face.” You want more than anything to tear the condescending smirk off his face with your fingernails. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, isn’t that the mortal saying? You would know better than me, living amongst them in that quaint little apartment on Umbriel.”

Of course he knows about your home. Of kriffing course he does.

Heartbeat quickening, you avoid eye contact by scanning the few lines of words he’s written, eyebrows slowly inching up your forehead the more you read. “I don’t understand. This isn’t a demand to kill anyone. What does it mean?”

“Now is not the time for you to know,” he answers cryptically.

You shake your head, insisting, “Well maybe it should be. He knows me better than anyone. He’ll be able to tell I’m confused and—“

Gideon’s heavy sigh interrupts you. Then, quicker than you anticipate, he steps to the side of you and unsheathes his sword, its black blade positioned at your throat. It happens in one fluid movement, and the danger of your current predicament doesn’t sink in until the frightening humming notes of the weapon register in your eardrums seconds later. Your expressionless mask wavers, facial muscles tightening as you fail to refrain from flinching.

“All that is required from you, Cupid 1-1-7, is for you to speak from the heart and convince him to follow this one instruction. Do you think you can accomplish that?” he asks the question as if you have an actual choice. Like you can walk away now and there will be no hurt feelings.

But that is ridiculous. Everyone knows Cupids don’t get to have choices. Not when they are only given orders to obey.

You give him the tiniest of nods, careful not to let your skin make contact with the blade. “Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s begin.”

~~

The nav computer on the Razor Crest contains the coordinates of every moon and planet within each region of the galaxy. There is not one inch of space unknown to Din and yet his search for his angel continues to remain unsuccessful. He doesn’t consider the possibility of her being deceased for even half a second. As her soulmate he would have felt her passing the moment it happened. The bond he shares with his angel might be young and fragile still, but he doesn’t doubt her loss would eviscerate him in the same merciless manner he had done to Hess.

His inability to find her can only mean a powerful immortal is involved in her capture. As Death he roams the universe as a neutral entity. The only enemies he encountered—and he uses that term loosely—were foolish mortals thinking they could outlive their destined time by fighting him, only to ultimately meet their fated ends in the process. Prior to Hess’ demise, he had upheld his sworn creed to the universe and never once was tempted to defy the natural order or break a sacred rule.

Although admittedly strange to consider, the thought that maybe his angel’s capture isn’t meant to deliberately hurt him or her is one that keeps crossing his mind. Perhaps they are merely pieces in a game neither of them recognize nor want to willingly participate in.

As Din sits in the pilot’s seat, staring at the screen dispassionately through the visor of his helmet still coated with Hess’ blood, he is well-aware of Bo-Katan standing behind him, attempting to freeze him solid with her iciest glare.

She is the bravest of his reapers, unafraid to piss him off and counteract his opinions with her own. Yet ever since they left Hess’ body hanging in the warehouse and returned to the Crest, she’s not said one word to him, seemingly content to suffer in silence as a background presence while he contemplates whether he should be the one to track down the twi’lek Hess referenced or if he should have his reapers engage in the hunt.

“We’re going to talk about what happened,” Bo-Katan says coolly.

He grinds his teeth. “We will talk if and when I want to.”

“No.” She forcefully pulls at his chair, turning it around to face her. A snarl escapes him, animalistic and furious, but her green eyes don’t even blink, not the least bit intimidated. “You reaped a soul before it’s destined time. The universe isn’t going to easily forgive you for that. There will be consequences.”

“The only thing that matters is getting her back,” he answers. It’s the truth too. The second his angel was taken he knew there was not one rule he wouldn’t break to have her back in his arms—consequences be damned.

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Bo-Katan asks, looking him over as if she no longer recognizes him. Her eyes linger just a second too long on his bloodstained gloves. “You’re losing your mind over a soulmate you’ve barely known a year.”

“Have you ever had someone you loved taken from you?” Din counters.

She scowls, eyes narrowing with loathing. “How dare you compare—”

“Answer the question!” he shouts, slamming his fist down on the armrest hard enough the metal creaks ominously.

“Yes.” Her chin dips briefly towards her chest as she takes a second to compose herself. “You know I have.”

Din does know. Hours prior to every major catastrophic event in the galaxy’s history he’s felt an invisible leash wrap around him, pulling him in the direction of the tragedy and demanding he be there to personally reap the souls of the victims in the aftermath. He had witnessed the destruction of Bo-Katan’s homeworld when it was ravaged by a series of bombings orchestrated by an unknown enemy. Thousands had been killed, including Bo-Katan’s sister.

He doesn’t let the silence stretch too long, voice unwavering as he says, “And if you had the chance, would you not kill the one responsible for your pain?”

“It wouldn’t bring her back. Not any of them.”

Din sighs, glancing away, but Bo-Katan surprises him not even ten seconds later, apparently unfinished.

“I’d still do it though,” she says, not sounding the least bit guilty for admitting to hypothetical murder. “I’d carve the heart out of whoever set off those bombs and force-feed it to them.”

“We’re more alike than you may think,” Din says. “Think about that before you question my actions again.”

Any potential response from his reaper is interrupted by the beeping of an incoming transmission. He turns his chair at once, noticing the recorded message’s origin source is a random scrambling of letters and numbers. Every instinct is telling him he won’t like what he sees, but his hand reaches forward anyways, as if possessed by an unseen force, and presses the button to view the recording.

His angel appears as a holographic figure and immediately his eyes zero in on the collar around her neck. Anger threatens to course through his veins again, but Din forces his lungs to draw in a deep breath. Now is not the time to unleash his temper. Now is the time to listen and commit every word she says to memory, to study her every feature for any sign she’s been hurt.

“Death,” she begins, and his entire body tenses at the use of his title and not his name. It’s been so long since she’s addressed him as such, he knows it can’t be accidental. “I hope this message reaches you wherever you are. More than anything I wish I could be with you right now. I’m so sorry I broke my pinky promise to you, sweetheart. The way our bond is...I hate to think you’re feeling as much pain as I do.”

Din’s heart shatters when she starts to anxiously rub at her soulmate marking, sniffling quietly. His fingers itch with the overwhelming longing to hold her hand.

“I’m not safe here. What they’ve threatened to do to me...it scares me. I-I need to ask you a favor, a very important one.” A few teardrops escape the corners of her eyes and drip down her cheeks. Din bites the inside of his mouth so harshly he tastes blood. “If you want to protect me, then you must let go.”

The transmission goes dead.

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[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 10

Summary:  Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader 

Words: 1400

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obvious fighting and violence, mention of suicide

*I’ll be honest, this chapter is more of a fuller, substance chapter. If you wanted to be added to the tag list, please send me a message or chat. Thank you for everyone’s patience!

The hunt still left you plenty in your thoughts. It should be on helping in whatever way you can, but you kept thinking on your role here and how you clearly will never belong, no matter how to try to be kind and open to the culture, no matter how much you push away your own values and morals for these people. It will never matter. Rupert yelled your name, catching your attention. A man got hurt and you help mend what you can before instructing Rupert to bring him back to the village. Another scream, a different type of scream caused you to be pulled from you own thoughts of now and into the times of wartime. You charge to the scream, you found a man losing blood quickly, and a shot pulled you from your thoughts. The boar that did this must have been shot, “Mistress Y/L/N, am I going to die?”

 All the pressure and anger you felt subsided, “Hold of Geordie, let me look at you,” several clansmen surrounded you. Dougal showed up to hold Geordie as you tried to patch up his leg. Dougal and him were exchanging words when you saw the wounds to his abdomen. Dougal made eye contact with you and you knew he knew what you were saying. You pulled off the tourniquet, and grabbed his hand, “Geordie, the pain is going to be go soon, but while we wait, I have a bet with Angus.” Geordie looked at you the way many men have looked at you before in the Marine. You had to bring him peace in the time of his panic, “I bet Angus that the colonies had more beautiful sites than Scotland. Tell me about your home, what’s it like?”

 Georgie perked up as he told you about his home and you gripped his hand with all your might and continue to stroke his hair to help sooth him. And soon he was gone, you quickly got up and made your way to your horse. Before you knew what you were doing, you made your way to the castle. You needed some busy work, like stitching up the leg of the man who was also attacked by the boar. Afterwards, you walked outside to see the men playing field hockey, which you played for a few years in high school. This was far more barbaric, and you could see Dougal taking his rage out on Jamie. He could cope in anger, but if you did this, you would be gutted.

 You wondered who would win in a fight and you had no doubt Jamie would win. When you saw Dougal on the ground, a young girl from one of your lessons tugged on your arm, “Well hello Molly dear, you enjoying the gathering?” There is no reason to take your rage on children, they didn’t do anything wrong. Honestly, teaching them defense things and survival tactics was the most time you felt at peace, well except when you were with – never mind that thought.

 “Aye mistress, very much,” you smile down at her, “I heard about your ill-wish and I know who made it. They did not know it was intended for you when they gave it to the girl.”

Guilt hit your chest again, someone was scared you were going to hurt them for being an accomplice. You were letting the harshness of one person hurt your relationship with the majority, “You know who put it under my bed?”

 “Aye mistress,” she whispered, “You wouldn’t be telling my mother, would you? She wouldn’t be wanting me to get into others business.”

 You bent down to her level, “Tell you what,” you pull out your coin bag with most of the money you made for yourself while staying here – your escape money, “I’ll tell your mother you helped me collect supplies for the gathering, which is why I paid you all this. And you tell me who put it under my bed?”

 “Mistress, I don’t need your money. Girls aren’t allowed to learn the things you are teaching. You don’t deserve any ill-wishes. You’re lovely,” you smile up at her.

 You pass her the bag, “You’ve earned it dear, I keep my word. Give me the name and the money is yours.”

 “Laoghaire,” she whispered. You shot up, looking around completely shocked.

 “Alrighty lass,” you pat her on the shoulder, “If you don’t mind, I have business to take care of.”

 “Be careful, please,” she urged after you.

 You had a hyper focus again, you intended to kick her ass, like you reported. And you found her socializing where most of the clan put up tent for the gathering. You passed Murtagh and Jamie, taking off your sling bag off and your dagger from your waistband and handed it to one of them, “Murtagh, could you mind this for me?”

 “I’m not your errand boy, lass, and where you going that you won’t need this,” he questioned.

 “You’re a pretty face, Murtagh, you ask too many questions,” you sass to him, looking at your target. Jamie and him stopped leaning on a post, both putting their drinks down. They could clearly tell you mean business. “Hey, Laoghaire, you two faced, toxic bitch, I got your gift earlier and I would like show you my appreciation.”

 She had the audacity to give you a glare, before she realized she was in real danger. She started to step backwards, and the crowd started to grow around you as you moved closer to the girl, “Leave me alone, wench.”

 “Oh, you do have words now that you can use. I thought you might be too stupid to speak up and say something since you chose to instead use this voodoo bullshit to get at me. You want to bring me pain lady, let’s go at it,” you finally were within three feet of her. Before you could make a grab at her, she ran in another direction.

 You were about to put your running skills to work, when Murtagh gripped your arm, “Come on lass, you made your point let’s get you back to the surgery.”

 “You know what, I’m a little busy right now. But I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a few, we can have some tea to cleanse our spirit, la de da and all,” you keep her in your eye sights. You were about to start your chase when you were tossed over a shoulder. Murtagh was carrying you back as you banged on his back. You were mad in this moment because you gave your dagger away to this meathead or he would have suffered from a few, no lethal jabs. He dropped you in the surgery room, “Damn it, Murtagh what the hell is wrong with you?”

 “With me, you were about to put a big target on your back. You’re a guest here lass, they don’t take too kindly to guests attacking one of their kin,” he leaned against the counter.

 You started to cry, and you usually do not cry, “Does it mean nothing I didn’t start it? Her action deserves a consequence. I watch all men here fight over nothing and here I am fighting against an injustice and my life is at danger. Do I not matter to anyone where? Should I just go to the tallest tower and jump?”

 “Don’t be so dramatic, an ill wish is nothing,” he urged to you. He didn’t seem too phased by the fact you were crying, though he did soften his voice to show sympathy, “I know you don’t believe any of nonsense. You are a smart woman.” You started to toss things about the surgery, organizing all the stuff you brought out for the hunt. Murtagh walked over to you and stopped you by gripping the top of both your arms, “Y/N, you matter more than you know. Stop this behavior, you’ll get accustomed.”

 “Murtagh, why do I always have to be the one to change? What do I have to do to feel like I belong here, how long will it take for people to believe I’m not an outsider?”

 He took a deep breath again, “I know it doesn’t seem it now and I don’t know how, but you do belong here. It’ll come in time. Until then, stop picking fights.”

 “Yes father,” you rolled your eyes, “Where is Jamie, I assume he has my bags and things?”

 “Aye, right now he is taken care of Laoghaire, so you needed be worrying about her anymore,” he said, making his way to the stairs.

 “Unless he has killed her and hid the body, I’ll keep to worry about her and her no good deeds, thank you,” you shouted at him. “And make sure Jamie brings back my things sooner rather than later.”

 And before Jamie could drop off your things, Dougal Mackenzie came down to share you would be journeying out to collect rent from the clan who wasn’t able to make it.

PART 11

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