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primalsouls · 4 years ago

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white rabbit pt 4

langa hasegawa x gn! reader (pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3)

anon: will white rabbit have a part 4? ( if yes pls pls give them a happy ending hehe ) but its oki if you dont want to, no pressure! i just really enjoyed it and i love ur writing btw :)

⚠️ : im terrible at picking up what's a trigger, so let me know is there's anything uncomfortable!

theme: general

note: ooh my heart 💔 rip white rabbit 🐇🙏🕊 anyway, here's pt 4! :> i hope you like it and enjoy it! and thank you for reading! let me know what you think. :) i really like this chapter the most lol

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

"Leave... Wonderland?"

"Forever?"

Reki and Langa stared at Adam with frowns on their face. Eyes widen at the words. Whispers surrounded them quick, destroying the small silence that gave the words to settle in for everyone. Blue eyes looked back at the [h/c]-haired skater. Their head still hanged low but he could see the sheer rage their fists held.

"He's saying that... [Y/N] [L/N], the White Rabbit, is leaving S." Miya repeated.

"Forever. Meaning.... They're kicked out." Shadow sighed, shaking his head.

Hearing those words, [Y/N] gritted their teeth and unclenched their fists. They looked up at Adam, a pleading expression on their face as they pulled their hoodie back.

"P-please... I don't wanna leave." They said, voice cracked in the beginning. Langa's heart broke at the sight. But before he could do anything, Adam walked up to them. "I'll do anything, please. Let me stay!" They continued but they flinched when their board was taken away from them harshly by Adam.

"A bet is a bet. Besides, it's about time S gets rid of its pests." Adam grinned. He snapped his finger, a couple of men bringing in a can of gasoline and a box of matches. Their eyes widen. Langa and the rest of his friends stood frozen, unable to believe the scene before them. Silence took over the crowd. [Y/N] knew they couldn't do anything to stop Adam from destroying their skateboard. "You should have won and this wouldn't happen. Remember, it's your fault." He said quietly. And with sheer power, he lifted the board and broke it in half with his knee. [Y/N] stared at him with wide eyes and mouth gaped slightly in shock. Tears pooled up and streamed down their cheeks one by one, one after the other.

"N-no... please, don't..." They whispered, a hand reaching out weakly but it didn't move much. [Y/N] was too shock to move any more than an inch.

Adam threw the broken board on the ground. He was handed the gasoline and the box of matches. He poured the liquid over the pieces, his masked eyes never leaving his younger sibling's face. Their look of terror filled him with chills. He loved it. Such as he loved the finish touch to the punishment. With elegance, Adam pulled out a match and stroke it on the igniter side of the box. Fire bursts on the matchstick. Adam flicked it onto the broken board like it was nothing and within seconds, flames burst to life, consuming the skateboard.

Langa watched with horror. [Y/N] didn't deserve that. They didn't deserve to leave. A bet wasn't even established. So, why? Why was this happening? His eyes went up to [Y/N].

"White Rabbit-"

"They're no longer go by that title." Adam interrupted coldly. "By losing this beef, no only are they banned from S, their title is no longer theirs to claim. White Rabbit is dead." Langa's eyes widen as his frown deepened. He couldn't believe it. This was not supposed to happen. Not supposed to lead to this results. No one supposed to be kick out or strip from their title. Adam reached a hand out. Langa saw how tensed [Y/N] got as the hand grew closer to them. The gloved fingers gently held into the S pin. It was on their collar of their hoodie but the next second, it wad ripped off from them. He threw it into the flames.

"I... I'm sorry..." [Y/N] apologized. Langa didn't understand. There was nothing to apologize for. Was it for Adam? For losing the race and everything they built for themselves? [Y/N] kept staring at the board, not noticing Adam turned his back on them. But his last words lef them in breaking in pieces.

"And don't bother coming home. A wild animal like you don't belong there. Never had and never will." As his final saying, Adam picked up his board and walked away but stopped to face Langa with a smirk. "Oh, and once again, my dear SNOW, congratulations." Langa blinked, watching Adam disappeared from everyone's sight.

"Damn..." Shadow muttered.

"Vanished from S... what a turn of events." Miya commented quietly.

Reki frowned at Adam's disappearing figure before he turned to Langa and [Y/N]. Everyone else slowly departed. Reki walked up to the two skaters, the broken board still caught in flames. Tears continued to spill from their eyes, Reki saw. Before the two could say any sort of comfort words to them, [Y/N] turned away from them and ran, ran as fast as they could. Away. They needed to get away and breathe. They couldn't breathe properly. Their chest was killing them. Sobs caught in their throat when they tried to cry. It hurts them. Their heart hurts. Everything was always their fault. They deserved. They believed they deserved it. They weren't a Shindo. They were a pest in the family. That was why Adam-no-Ainosuke told them not to come home. He was kicking them out. He was probably make up a lie to their aunts to make it seem it was their decision. For the better of the Shindo Family, they would say.

Life truly wasn't fair.

"C'mon, let's go!" Langa said, getting ready to chase after them but Reki grabbed his arm, pulling him back. He winced, the grip on his arm reminded him of the injuries he received during the race. "Wha- what? We have to go after them, Reki." He said, pointing towards [Y/N] running off.

"But you'll hurt even more with injuries like this. Besides, it's not our business. What happened with them was between them and Adam." Reki said. Miya nodded as he walked up to them.

"He's right, Langa. We should stay out of it. They're no longer of importance." Miya added in, crossing his arms over his chest. Langa frowned at the two boys.

"It's probably not the best time to even go after them. It's best that we mind our own business for now." Shadow advised, the other two boys giving affirmative responses. Langa tried to come up with reasons to go after them, but Reki shook his head and led Langa awau from the factory, pointing out the cuts once again. That was the last time Langa saw [Y/N].

The past couple of weeks, they were no were in sight. No familiar white hoodie resembling a white rabbit was found around S. No one spoke about them. It was like they never existed in the first place. As if S never heard of a skater called White Rabbit. Langa tried to find ways to get into contact with them but whenever he mentioned them, he was ignored, shut down, avoided. He was worried for them, for their safety. If Adam truly meant his words, then where would [Y/N] be? Langa wanted to make sure they were okay. That was all he wanted to know.

"[Y/N]... where are you?" Langa muttered as he walked through the park. He was planning to meet Reki at their usual hangout. Although, he wanted to clear his mind out of [Y/N] and the events that occurred. It wasn't their fault. It was his. If he never beef against them, Langa would had still see them every night at S, even from a fair distance to admire them. They would still be in his life, somehow.

"Ah, sorry..." A tired voice said. Langa looked down, not realizing he bumped into someone. He did felt something hit him as he walked, but he didn't pay too much attention. Langa opened his mouth to apologize instead but words were caught in his throat. His eyes widen. He couldn't believe it. The board in his hand dropped to the ground beside him, both hands reaching up a bit.

"It's you..." Langa whispered. Confusion replaced the apologic gaze on their face. "White Rabbit." When the title left his lips, it was their turn for their eyes to grew wide. Langa smiled brightly. "It's you, White Rabbit. [Y/N]." Langa was happy. He found his white rabbit once more. But no more words left Langa's lips as a hand slapped his cheek. It took him a second to register the outcome. A shaky hand of his reached to touch the burning cheek. He flinched when his fingers came into contact. "Wh-what?" A handprint appeared as a light red shade on his cheek. His eyes focused on them. They didn't wore their signature hoodie. Only a black one with dark blue jeans and white Vans shoes. Their eyes were still the same crimson color but filled with anger. And sadness? Langa parted his lips, unable to say anything.

"Don't call me that name. Because of you, I'm no longer.... that..." [Y/N] spat out, glaring dangerously at Langa. "You took everything away from me. You ruined my life!" They yelled, all the feelings they tried to bottle in exploded. Langa watched with a shook expression as they ranted off on him. He may be dense to others' emotions but he could pick up the hurt in [Y/N]'s voice. The way they trembled with rage. He didn't like that. Langa didn't like seeing them upset. Especially when hd was the one who caused it.

"I'm sorry."

[Y/N] paused, staring at Langa with wide eyes. Their frown grew deeper as they tried to find any sort of pity or joke in his baby blue eyes. In which they felt like they were looking at the ocean. So blue. Like the sky. [Y/N] shook their head rapidly, gritting their teeth.

"Oh, shut up. I don't need your pity. And I doubt you're sorry! Because of you, not only was I kicked out of S, I was kicked out of my home... Not like it ever felt like home anyway..." They said, mumbling the last words but Langa caught them.

"Wait? Home... Where were you staying at?" Langa asked, voice filled with concern. [Y/N] scrunched their nose, eyes narrowed. "I swear, I'm not pitying you. I'm actually... worried. I've been worried for a long time now. Ever since you left S." Langa said, looking away from them, sudden feeling timid for no particular reason. They raised a brow, watching Langa's movements to fact-check his worries. There was no hint of him lying. But they still kept their guard up. "I even asked around back in S for the past few weeks. Not one single person said anything...It's like you-"

"-never existed." They continued for him softly, eyes casted down to the ground. Their features relaxed but Langa noted the sadness stayed. No anger in sight. They sighed tiredly, running a hand through their hair. "Doesn't matter... Just stop it." [Y/N] crossed their arns over their chest, raising a brow. "Beside, the hell you kept asking about me? Aren't you happy I've been kicked?"

Langa shook his head right away once the question next their lips.

"No. I'm not happy. In fact, I..." Langa took a deep breath, trying to think on his words before they left his mouth. "I'm not enjoying myself." He mumbled, making [Y/N] take a step closer to hear him properly. They tilted their head, lips tugged down a bit as they urged him to repeat himself and keep going. "It makes me sad not to see you at S anymore. I didn't want any of that to happen. I didn't even know what was going on." Langa shrugged, looking at them with a pout. A pout they found adorable. He looked like a kicked puppy who didn't like the fact their owner left their home everyday. [Y/N] mentally cringed at the thought. What were they thinking? This was the same guy who went up against their brother and banned them from S. They hated him. They were supposed to hate him. [Y/N] clicked their tongue, throwing Langa off the sense, wondering if he said anything wrong. A faint red hue decorated their cheeks. They turned their back on him, hugging themselves.

"Whatever. Whether you knew what was going on or not, doesn't matter. My board got destroyed and I can't go back to S. Everything happened..." [Y/N] whispered, arms slowly fell back to their sides as they watched the sun beginning to settle down for the rest of the day. "I've got nothing... I've got no one-"

"You got me." Langa butt in. The words made them do a double take on him. It caught them off guard. And Langa continued to surprise them. A determined glint in his eyes as he stepped closer. "Reki can build you a new board and we can all skate. Together. We can skate outside of S, anyway. It'll be fun!" Langa bounced a bit in his steps, smiling brightly. "We can hang out together. And if you don't have a job, you can work with Reki and me. You even move in wi-"

"Stop..."

"We can go to school togeth-"

"Stop it."

"You got us! So, you don't have to wor-"

"Shut up!"

Langa blinked, taken back by the sudden outburst from [Y/N]. He focused back on them, confused why they told him to quiet down. Their brows knitted down, hands clutched by their side. The sunset shoned behind them. The soft breeze brushed against their figure out. And if Langa squinted, he could had notice their faint blush reddened slightly. They looked cute. He wanted to see them blush again.

"Just... why are you doing this?" They asked, their eyes looking anywhere but Langa. They were shy. They found it unbelievable but it happened. They were shy.

Langa stared at them for a moment, making [Y/N] nervous.

"Because I like you."

Those words froze [Y/N] on the spot. Their eyes widen, lips parted slightly. The words ran through their mind like an echo. Langa's charmed smile implanted with it.

"And I want to be your friend."

Impossible.

"That's..." [Y/N]'s face was burning up. Cheeks redder they matched their eyes. "That's stupid." They blurted out quickly, taking a step back. Langa frowned a bit, not unexpecting that sort of answer to his confession. A confession they weren't sure if they were happy about or sadden by it.

"No one wants to be my friend. No one likes me... That's what they always told me." [Y/N] took another step back, brows knitted down but not in anger but in sorrow. Every step they took back, Langa takes one forward. "I'm unlovable... I don't... deserve it." The young former skater shook their head, as if snapping into reality. Tears welled up on their eyes. "You don't like me. You don't. You don't, you don't, you don't, you don't," They repeated quietly, hugging themselves as the tears rolled down their cheeks. Langa panicked. He didn't wanted to upset them. What they said made him wonder who told them such statements. They trembled and he didn't know what to do.

Except for one thing. And he hoped he don't get slap doing so.

Arms wrapped around their frame, a hand on their head as the other rest on their lower back. The hand stroke their head as the other ran their back in a circular form. Langa closed his eyes, hugging [Y/N] closed to him.

"Shh... shh... It's okay, [Y/N]..." He whispered. "Whoever told you those things, they... they don't know what they're talking about." Langa took a deep breath. "But I'm telling the truth. And you do deserve it." He pulled away a bit, cupping their face with his hands and made them looked at him. "I like you. I like you very much. And even though I want to be more, I do want to be your friend." Langa smiled genuinely, blue eyes staring into red ones. "So, please... let me be your friend."

[Y/N] stared at Langa, stunned in his embrace. The blush darkened as Langa continued. They couldn't believe it. Their heart pounded little by little with every word Langa spoke. The hands on their face felt nice. The comfort hug was something they never experienced. They only got hurt by the hands of those who dared say they loved them. But, for whatever reason, they trusted Langa's words.

"Please... don't hurt me..."

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soyouareandrewdobson · 4 years ago

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…the ugly. SYAC: The Master Review 4

Last post I covered much of what I consider the good or passable strips of SYAC of the pre-Dobbear era. What I have admittedly not covered yet, were three certain characters of the strip that exist beside Dobson.

Persistent Pam

Curmudgeonly Carl

And… this guy I am not even sure has a name.

No, seriously. He shows up in like the 61th strip of the series for the first time and yet I never see his name mentioned once

All I know is that he is an accountant, who pities Dobson (for good reason)

And despite Dobson not liking alcohol, they regularly meet up in a bar as if they are some late 80s comedy duo

Funnily enough, he shows up way before Pam, who would have her premiere in these strips

And despite only showing up in a few strips after her premiere (mostly to make “fun” of overbearing and snarky commissioners I suppose…)

She actually managed something no other character or series by Dobson managed to get: A fanclub

Not that she would really be of any major importance afterwards.

As for Carl, he is supposed to be something like an antagonistic embodiment of Dobson’s “old” art teachers and people being stuck in old ways, who shows up for the following strips forming a sort of arc.

In addition, it is very obvious, that Carl is supposed to be a mockery of people flaming Dobson. Not helped by the fact that THIS character sheet of him made by Dobson assures us, that there were quite a few even less “endorsing” things he wanted to name the character.

Yet funnily enough, Carl turned into such a popular character with readers, Dobson was essentially “forced” to make him reappear in other strips. Not of the “classical” SYAC strips, but he showed up as the “antagonist” to Tenku in the storydriven multi pagers. Though even antagonist is a strong word, as he is essentially more of a jerkish art teacher and college advisor who is harsh on Tenku, but actually has his best interests in mind. To the point he even offers him to be his “harsher” art critic in the years till he enters college, because he wants to see him grow artistically.

However, Carl was also more of an “accident”. Cause when it came otherwise to tackling criticism or things that irked Dobson (and were not anime related) he would end up more or less creating strips that painted him in a manner where he would supposedly always look like “the better” compared to his opposition or mock it. Which is where a lot of the irk Dobson would earn over the years eventually comes from.

Now to be fair, I do not want to call every comic in that regard “strawmanning”, nor do I want to say that Dobson doesn’t have the right to also mock to a certain extend the mentality of certain “snobs” and so on. For example…

On one hand, I know there are people out there who think they are “special” by having the best tools at their disposal. When in reality you can achieve good results also with less expensive stuff. So mocking that sort of attitude is fine to me to some extend

BUT, when you also make down the line a comic like this…

… essentially making yourself come off as a “better” artist or person than others because you have “chosen” the better mass produced crap (btw, that is coming from someone who types this review on a Mac that runs Windows) , then the hypocrisy ends up to be rather strong with you.

Which is also essentially the biggest issue with the strips I am about to show. The hypocrisy of Andrew Dobson. And no, I do not mean the tumblr blog by that. I mean the simple fact, that the content of some of the soon to follow strips gets kinda muddled when you take into consideration some of the things real life Dobson had said and done either at the time or in the years to come. Well that and the way how he tries to mock issues people have with his work, not realizing how he is essentially just reassuring those “silly critics” in their opinions while making his flaws more obvious to people that may have been previously unaware of them.

But enough talk, let me just show you in quick succession examples to confirm said point.

Considering Dobson’s longterm disdain for DnD you have to wonder what the joke really is outside of him portraying DnD players as ugly nerds, supposedly too geeky even for him. Which is hilarious in hindsight as he would years later become a fan of TAZ among other things.

Less hypocritical but the set up is kinda flawed. Like, you are obviously at a convention trying to sell stuff. Why would some old dude not interested in “kids crap” be at the convention anyway? Is he just bringing someone there and just wants to go, but first needs time to belittle your life choices?

Rather hilarious in hindsight to me. Cause for someone claiming he has ideas that last for a life time and who seems rather distraught on the idea of others giving their input, he turned out to be so in need of ideas. Alex ze Pirate e.g. became from 2015 onward only defined by Dobson talking about the sexualities of his characters (and not even in comic as by that point it was discontinued, but rather in tweets and so on). Formera, which ran heavily on cheap shonen anime tropes ended up cancelled after two volumes, Cabin Rest was a failure after 20 strips, 2019 he relied primarily on cheap comics about Miraculous Ladybug and his understanding of certain genres is so bad, he can’t even think up the most basic ideas for a magical girl story.

Weirdly enough, that pitch of a garbage truck driver who fights crime? I think that could make for an enjoyable short story about a vigilante a la the Punisher or Sin-City.

The way Dobson perceives criticism, while also essentially giving a quick rundown how he appreciated criticism in his childhood way better than in adulthood. Yeah, because criticism by your parents as a kid was always VERY constructive. (looks back at certain drawings from own childhood) brrr. And sorry Dobson, but sometimes criticism by strangers is better than criticism from friends. Cause friends may mince their words. Plus people have over time given you quite some insightful criticism aside “U SUX” when it comes to comics. You were just never willing to listen

Hey Dobson, you hear that? That is the sound of your career, dying and no one caring.

Yeah, I think someone who made such “brilliant” comedy as in these comics, totally has the right not to listen to what seems to be solid theoretical advice.

BTW, that Talus comic… I swear to god the worst “joke” Dobson ever told.

Wow. You essentially make a point why you suck at drawing. While still not trying to change.

And as someone else once said: Don’t play with fire if you can’t deal with the heat, BLOCK-son!

This is not how I perceived your shit over the years. See, on one hand it is true that Alex ze Pirate e.g. has its own webpage to read the comic for free. HOWEVER most of his comics Dobson would hide from the start behind a paywall. The idea being that he would e.g. put a small reading sample of 10-15 pages up somewhere and then expect people to buy his comic for full price to get the rest. And you know, if you are e.g. a professionally published writer, that is fine. But when your average art output looks like THIS

And you expect people to pay more than 10 dollars for something that is only around 70 pages long while most people can get 200+ pages for the same amount of money that look like this…

You can frankly go and screw yourself.

On one hand I get that the joke is meant to be, that as an independent content creator you may find yourself in a weird spot where your “child friendly” work may be put in a palace between edgier stuff other creators sell at conventions. On the other hand, I find it rather insulting in hindsight, that self declared feminist Andrew Dobson portrays such competition as either psychopathic murderers or stereotypical cartoon bimbos. If modern day Dobson saw the same strip by any other person, he would be insulted on behalf of the female that she is portrayed as a bimbo, when she could also be a very smart and attractive woman who knows how to tell brave and sexy stories.

Also, I have read your “child friendly” stuff, Dobson. I would call Atea or Alex abusive bitches who like to bully orphans but child friendly? Not to forget that your work is so basic and shallow in depth, it’s like the someone tried to create a chimera out of some of the worst traits associated with Dora the Explorer, 80s toodler cartoons and the Fairly Oddparents.

I frankly hate this theory on comedy. It is true, a lot of comedy can be deprived from conflict, misunderstandings etc. Looney Tunes, Tom and Jerry and other cartoons as well as screwball comedies such as Rat Race can depend on it. Heck, one of my favorite comedians of all time is Christopher Titus, who based his entire career on the misery and absurdity of his life.

But comedy is not just defined by misery and conflict.

There are for example also the following theories when it comes to comedy…

And to get back e.g. to Titus, yes, he has build a lot of his comedy on the bad stuff that happened in his life. But he is also someone who in his comedy has build a lot of punchlines on the absurdity of certain situations he has been in life but which in a way have enriched his life positively.

What I am trying to say is, comedy (and entertainment in that regard) does not just have to be defined by misery. And all things considered Dobson, you could have really tried to also just make comics wherein either you or your characters are just happy with their situation in life.

For example, this page from an Owl House fancomic?

I think it holds more entertainment value than your “joke” right here, despite not even telling a joke.

Simply because as a page overall, it tries to convey a positive emotion. Which is more than I can say about the strip.

Because of a lack of different level of thickness regarding your lines, which would trick people into perceiving depth, the fact that the fill bucket and shade layers can only do so much to cover for the rather monochromatic dull nature of your comic, the fact that your characters are not really all that complex and look rather simplicstic even compared to stuff from a comic like this…

And that is just coming from the top of my head as someone who never studied art. If any reader has something to add, I am willing to listen

And considering you could in later years never keep up to any release schedule, which among other things resulted in only three SYAC strips in total being released in 2016, I say go fuck yourself. Not to forget that even some of the worst newspaper comic strips out there tend to actually find a decent following and good jokes eventually, otherwise they would not manage to stay popular for years, if not even decades.

As someone who has worked internships a lot in life, I just want to say fuck you in all our names. Glad to see you having just as much respect for interns than any other scumbag on the planet. Probably even less respect, cause you know, in some places interns tend to get paid.

Also, there is supposedly an entire real world story going on about Dobson having worked at his former university at the time the comic came out and Chaz is based on a fellow intern.

Things are unfortunately rather vague in that regard and only hold up by demonstrative evidence such as the name of Chaz showing up in certain pages of the university and Dobson’s internship being mentioned somewhere.

Well, would you look at that: People have different opinions on your stuff.

There are ways to draw memes funny and then there are ways to fail at them

You failed.

Funnily enough, that comic rings a lot truer to text than you expect. Considering how Dobson would often emulate certain aesthetics in his comics of shows that were rather passee by the time he published his stuff, plus how he will obsess over certain trends and games for years to come (like Skyrim or his Quiet Hate Boner) while also being unaware about current trends (how do you e.g. not have heard of My Hero Academia by 2018 at least once by accident?) Dobson has always been kinda late to the party. Missing the “zeitgeist” of nerd culture and as such never quite finding an audience.

Yeah, what Pam says. Not helped by the fact that yes, the floating eyebrows are real. Look at some earlier sketches or “professionally published” comics by his and you will see that each time characters get excited, their eyebrows will suddenly split into sets of three and float higher than Pennywise’s victims.

Ironically, that fits real life Dobson at the time and later on even more so than this comic version did. Sorry, but what am I supposed to call a person who has an hate boner on anime for years for superfluous reasons, made Danny and Spot a “gaming webcomic” deliberately to piss on non Nintendo fans and has admitted in some by now deleted youtube video, that he kept a list of usernames from an old forum just to remember even years later the people that were mean to him online?

Fuck both of you. I do not expect the Sixtin Chapel in the background, but something to filll up the empty space behind you is at times needed.

The comic here is actually called politics. … ironic how things changed once a certain reality show host turned president.

Jesus Christ. I am not even that much of a Transformers fan (Prime fan for life however) but even I know that this is not supposed to be what you design the head of a Transformer like. Not even if they ever produce the Transformers equivalent of Teen Titans Go.

Too bad you still can’t stand the heat, otherwise you wouldn’t have completely disappeared last year.

When you know you are in a no win situation, and still manage to choose an even dumber option to escape. I really don’t get it. I just think the Portal reference makes the comic dated and Dobsn’s attempt at a smug face looks so stupid. Like his cheeks are falling in and his mouth is about ready to get raped by a garden hose or something.

Yeah, considering Dobson’s later constant need for safe spaces and to be in control of a situation and the narrative, which led to so many blocks over the years… if you know anything about Dobson, how this comic becomes harsher in hindsight is rather self explanatory. I just want to say one thing: There is a difference between genuine agoraphobia and just wanting to be by yourself. And I think Dobson just prefers the later on average. Which is okay, but humans still need to interact with other human beings in one form or another, even just for the sake of keeping their mental health stable. Why do you think are so many people getting depressed in times of covid lockdowns, despite many having all sorts of technical gimmicks at their disposal to at least keep boredom at bay?

And by putting himself into a bubble like that, I think Dobson has deprived himself of some of the most basic human interaction, which was likely a severe factor in his mental degeneration over the last years.

It is still a valid suggestion! Just draw some cartoon characters or a nice fantasy scenario on a mural and earn yourself some bucks. Just be sure they are not by Disney or the Mouse will tear down the school!

… Just google up the words Andrew Dobson and Samus Aran commission by ED and you will see how this comic just further shows how much Dobson seems to actually be proud of being an unproductive asshole.

And by the way, I know that any form of artistic work takes time. Just writing these review posts takes a lot of time for me. But that doesn’t change the fact that people should post and create stuff in a timely fashion, especially when there are e.g. deadlines to hold up too. And by the way, Sloth’s don’t have fingers, they have claws!

And that is it.

Sorry if I missed anything folks, but I just saw how many pages in word this is already filling up, so I call quits for this part here right now. I think I made my point about how Dobson trying to badly deflect arguments people may make against his art and work ethics via jokes clear enough, while also showing some posts that are either harsher or hilarious in hindsight.

Next time we will however address one certain issue about our main character, that has been not directly addressed here. In the meantime, have a little fun video that shows hopefully how entertainment and a certain amount of comedy can be gained NOT via misery.

youtube

#adobsoncomic #Andrew Dobson #Tom Preston #comic #webcomics #syac #so...you are a cartoonist #review #master review

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elysicndrcvm · 4 years ago

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━♡ guess the 23 YEAR OLD FEBRUARY baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because CHU EUNHA is just as BEDAZZLING as the month of FEBRUARY. wait, why do they remind me of JACOB BAE? beyond that, they seemed JOYOUS and SAVVY upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of DELICATE and QUIXOTIC though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX 1 / APARTMENT 0215 / FLOOR 3 ; HE seem(s) to have a lot going on with HIS job as a PATISSERIE OWNER/NUTRITIONAL SCIENCE STUDENT. ( ez, 21, she/they, gmt. )

well hey there !! im ez but you fellow dallyeogers can call me ezzy, i have been in dallyeog before so some may remember me as having someone v different to my new bb i bring u now, i joined before with miss tam carmen !! anygays i return with this lil angel who i am all ‘ i say that’s my baby and i’m proud ’ over already even tho i literally came up with him like two days ago. you can find his pinboard here ( which btw i fuckeN love like he’s so aesthetic to me u go king ) and i made him a lil playlist which u can vibe to here. you can learn more about him under the cut but he’s a super soft-hearted gentle dove of a muse and quite...simple for me ?? sdhdh that’s not the right wording but U GET IT djjflg he isn’t super full of angst or trauma he’s just kinda viBIN livin his best life so that’s fun !! but ye without further ado:

so as u kno from his app he owns a patisserie, it’s his lil babey and he is very dedicated to his craft and makin sure all his ideas for the place and the baked goods he sells are like rlly quirky and avant-garde. like he is so passionate about it u dont even KNOW, he tries to make sure most of the stuff on his menu is something like fun and new u wouldn’t get at just any old patisserie or cafe and that it’s super varied and also kinda aesthetic af? the place is very like trendy. it’s called patisserie d’elysian cause ya know he’s an extra biTCHH and proud.

he has three pupperino’s. all as adorable as each other, snickerdoodle is his golden lab and often ppl shorten it down to snickers, butterscotch is his dapple daschund pup, shortens the name to scotchie often. toulouse is his fancy toy poodle boi, shortens the name down as toto. if u are on the shortened name basis with his pups then u can consider urself one of his close pals.

he’s actually adopted by his aunt but she raised him like she was his mother so that is what he considers her, she’s on his mother’s side but they are half-siblings. in terms of first name reasoning as well she just liked eunha as a name and didn’t even think about how it is traditionally for a female, she liked that it meant gift from heaven so it stuck. his father is still around, he’s just quite elderly so it felt like a better living situation for him to be raised primarily by his auntie. unfortunately his mother has passed on but no tragic story, she just went peacefully in old age.

he dyes his hair quite often, it’s currently like a really pastel blue with black streaks consistently throughout like lil ones so it looks super cool. but he’s also had it be a more electric blue, lilac, and a duck egg kinda faded silvery blue. it’s naturally dark brunette. has brown eyes kind of a hazel hue.

his style is kinda androgynous ig?? he just lives for soft retro fashion, lots of color in his wardrobe but also lots of tapered short and t-shirt fits frequented, sweater vests, rolled up jeans, high skater boi socks, soft jumpers with shirts, shirts in bright colours or satiny texture worn over plain white t-shirts, cardigans, pastel denim jackets, jeans with printed patterns on like clouds, flowers etc, favors yellow and blues. sometimes does eye makeup, occasionally wears heels bc he’s a baddie or super heeled boots/chunky shoes.

obsessed with music, can play violin and guitar. he’s a big mitski and rina sawayama fanatic, likes anything that sounds peaceful or calming or has like a good fun vibe to it. also likes the trademark gay icons like carly rae jepsen, lorde, etc. he’s not ashamed. obsessed with mamma mia movies. but also likes rap which is rlly funny cause its like the bad bitch female rappers only and like he’ll listen to it while arranging his sock drawer or making his bed or something ajdjdj it’s like hype anthems for being a baddie and a hoe and he’s just doing his night sleepy routine adkfkf.

showers, blankets, music, baked goods especially bagels are his happy places.

very much a sensitive lil romanticist, falls in ‘love’ like five times a day, he just likes to giggle and smile around pretty people and admire the artwork hnghdh, he’s like yeARNS though ya know?? like he’s all i will flirt by making prolonged eye contact, i made you a playlist, this song makes me think of you etc. it’s either memes as flirting with him or elaborate love letters u never know what ur gonna get akdkd.

awful sense of humour, loves his friends more than anything on earth except his pups, would fully live in a huge house of just like his pups and all his closest buds for all eternity. likes fruits way too much, enjoys puns about fruits way too much. milkshakes, sushi, orange hues and bus rides are some of his absolute favorite simple pleasures of life. clouds, flowers, salt lamps, the sunrise over the sea, skateboarding, fresh soda, teddy bears, busy street markets, parasols, fish tanks with exotic fish, sorbet, bike riding, polaroids, record players, rain at night against floor to ceiling windows with a fresh steaming pot of tea on the desk beside it and warm fresh sheets from the laundry on his bed, ponds, skateboarding. all little joys in life that give him like the biggest pleasure dopamine hit in the world.

his cousin actually owns a florists so he has flowers just littering his apartment like a lot and it just looks like he has ten million suitors from the late eighteenth century attempting to court him but no all these flowers are from him to him or worse from his aunt djfjg she sends him some for valentines every valentines, pls help him, pls send him flowers.

studies nutritional science and he fucken hates it. do not ask him shit cause he doesn’t KNOW OKAY? he doesn’t understand it either. he took it because he needed something to go alongside the passion for baking that was a real ‘qualification’/job so that is the only reason he’s doing it. no point doing a baking degree after all when he’s already a baker with a business, he’s super young still he gotta keep his prospects open. so YAH. he’d rather be doing culinary arts but eh. nutritional science sounded better and more logic based. the real miracle is he still gets top grades all the time even tho he spends his life like wtf am i even doing is this even legit akdkdk. school is the worst thing in the world for him watch his mood instantly deflate the second its brought up.

despite being a quixotic, he’s a lil afraid of intimacy. like oh god does he love it, those small touches and acts of affection u kno? the subtle things that normally go unnoticed, eye contact, brushing of hands, linking of little fingers, rubbing a thumb, kissing eyelids or foreheads or palms or shoulders in little gentle pecks, back massages and rubs or finger tracing patterns absent-minded, shoulder massages, laying your head on someone’s shoulder or on their lap, knocking knees together, exchanging a small glance only the two of you get before bursting into laughter, smiling into kisses, napping together, having blankets placed over you warm and fresh, or towels put ready like it, someone making you something they know you like a lot. that’s his sHIT. but like he’s terrified still, someone skimming their fingers on his skin makes his breath hitch like he’s a scandalized and alarmingly aroused victorian woman sjdjd. he’s literally still a virgin, he hasn’t even had his first kiss okay my baby is delicate be gentle with him akdkd but he still LIKES PASSION AIGHT kfkf.

real soft spoken, honey tinted voice like i shit u not this boy talks like he’s an angel sent from heavens above to guide you to the paradisaical garden of eden or some shit akdkd. ur gonna fall in love with eunha’s voice before u even fall in love with any other part of him like his adorable beaming smile or stunning eyes akdkf.

has dance parties around his room when getting ready in the morning, listens to bella’s lullaby unironically yes from twilight yes u heard right, bit of a himbo streak sometimes in his obliviousness djfjf. quite silently subtly funny actually much like jacob himself.

he is gay, afraid of driving, cannot do math, blanks out often and he is valid for all of those things. has a collection of cartoon and disney animal movie dvds. has a dream notebook. always has blue painted nails in some kinda shade.

does not enjoy turning in assignments bc he is scared he’ll fail, avoids looking at his grades for weeks after they’re released and hates knowing that they’re out.

cannot dance, dances often. collects vintage stuff esp clothes and mostly sweaters. likes midnight trips to corner stores and fields where he can just lay and look at the stars. makes friends rlly easily but has super bad performance anxiety. cannot ever have a messy room like even the tiniest bit messy. even like clothes being stacked on a chair instead of away.

bakes peanut butter, banana and choc chip muffins (they r called monkey bites normally) whenever he’s super stressed. if u want to cheer him up when he’s anxious or stressed then u should give him french lavender honey, chia seeds and caramelized pear on toast/bagel. it is his comfort food. he fancii when he needs a pick me up. treat urself and all that.

#dallyeog:intro #i'm literally in love with him he's the softest most goodest boi muse i have ever made and i just #im that meme of the samari sword guy with the cat in his arms akfkfk #IVE ONLY HAD EUNHA FOR TWO DAYS BUT IF ANYONE HURTS HIM I WILL KILL THEM AND THEN MYSELF AKKDK

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madllamamomma · 4 years ago

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I Think I Have a Problem.... (A personal true story).

So as the title suggests, I have a strange problem…. Just as a warning, this is about my view of my younger self. It is about religion, and gender identity. This is not how I see the world anymore. It was how I told how the world should look. If you are offended in any way, please know this is a vent post and nothing to hurt anyone else. This is just what happened to me as a child. Shit….. This is about to get very long winded, so buckle up and here we go… *takes deep breath*

So a little backstory on your Mother Llama: I was raised in a weird backward ass “Independent” Baptist church most of my young life. If you guys don’t know what those are, be thankful…. But I guess I should explain it the best way I can…. they are a borderline cult. Yes. I said it. I’m not sorry. It may sound like an extreme accusation, but hold on. Just listen to me.

Now, I have no problem with Christians, or religion. You should believe whatever you want to believe in…. I do however, have a problem when religion is used as an excuse to not educate minds about the real world, force them to not let them think for themselves, and when someone questions any of it, they are punished or shamed for it instead of thinking about an answer. If you can’t tell, I am still a little angry about that shit. Imma try to keep on topic here….

I wasn’t taught science (real science anyways, it was all about ‘creation’ bs—OH! And being anything but a cis straight person was compleltly unexceptable. Woman were the weaker sex and were made to raise babies and take care of the husband. Men were superior and should be taken care of.) nor about World history or about other cultures, other than biblical of course. And when they were mentioned, they made them look evil and behave like heathens because they didn’t believe the same as they did. Everything changed when I went to public school half of fourth grade when my family moved to a different state and there wasn’t any church school like I went to. I learned a lot those years, that ‘The World’ wasn’t as bad of a place as they said it was. It was vast and had many things to offer. (No, not the World, Dio’s stan power from Jojo’s bizarre adventures—that is what our pastors called anything outside of the Baptist approved realm. Something ‘Worldly’ was basically something sinful and ungodly and therefor was bad and wrong).

So this may seem like a strange Segway in to what I am actually getting at, but I had a huge crush on this boy back when I was young and it started when I was about 12 or 13 years old and ended when I was 16. He was the same age as me, and he was the son of a pastor of a small church of about 20 people, mostly military families— we will call him.... D.... for dick...

I thought for a long time that I ‘loved’ D. I thought that ‘God made him for me’ (yes I really said that and it hurt to even write it). I really thought I knew what love was back then, but I was very wrong.

D was homeschooled, he didn’t have many friends and was also a navy brat like I was. So, naturally, we got along very well, and I would hang out with him at his house sometimes. We mainly played video games I was terrible at and he would always bet me. But I liked hanging out with him, so I didn’t care if I won or not. My heart for some reason was totally head over heels over D. And he liked me too for a while… or at least I thought he did… He however never made a move. I always thought D was just too shy, and didn’t know how to ask me. Any time I tried holding his hand, I’d chicken out. It was a stalemate. But this particular church did a thing where people had to court. Yes... COURT someone, not DATE (Courting is where you had adult chaperones keeping an eye on you two, you were never really alone. Ever, because apparently you can’t be trusted?). When we both turned 15 yo, D started a private Christian school. Being the awkward girl I was, I never told him how I felt, I just waiting for him to say something. Time passed, and I still waited and waited for him to ask me out.

But here’s the thing! He didn’t know the real me.

I was in public school, in middle school, and I started to become a weeb. Like a super cringy weeb that didn’t like anything else but anime—I was also kinda emo/punk kid thought I was edgy. (Yeah rock music was bad too, it was ‘Worldly’).Not a very good mix for Baptist I know. At school, I was one person, and at church I was another.

Well, being an anime fan meant I was exposed to a lot of things like the LGTB+ community for the first time. A lot of my friends at the time started to come out other than straight and that was very new to me.

During that time, I soon was starting to secretly question my faith, my understanding of my own sexuality and gender. Like, maybe people liking the same sex or both is actually not a bad thing after all (if you haven’t seen any of my works, hopefully you guys know that I know better that what I was taught—I am a proud fuckin’ ally! I still consider myself cis-straight, but some days I feel like I’m bi-curious, and that’s ok! It took me a long time to realize that, but I’m here now. Gender roles are dead and stupid.)

So here is the kicker~ One faithful day we had a guest pastor join us for a few weeks from another church. This mother fuckin’ nasty ass old white man from Alabama came with his ‘perfect quiet godly’ wife. Who badly ever spoke a damn word. She always just sat in the corner all ‘ladylike’.

—Oh!!! Another fun fact, I didn’t wear pants for a year when I was 10 yo becasue that was considered “cross dressing”— I’m dead fucking serious. My parents then decided after attending sporting events and stuff like that to drop that ludicrous lifestyle, becasue it was stupid. So, Outside of church, my family and I still wore pants and shorts and whatever, but in church we pretended that we didn’t wear anything but modest skirts, dresses, and long culottes. (That’s a little damaging…. don’t you think? Telling people your one thing, when in reality you're not like that at all??)

Anyways— I hated skirts, especially wearing them in the state we lived in, it was way too hot and I’d get chafed (these had to be knee length or longer btw). And of course that guest preacher would preach about the sins of women wearing pants, but I didn’t care. I wore them for so long, it just made me angry anytime someone would bring that up. I liked my jeans and I was starting to become a rebel teen who gave less than a fuck and started to speak my mind. Which was dangerous to that community…. Also I had a bad tendency of not keeping my legs together when I bent down, and one time I accidently showed my underwear (that’s really embarrassing btw, it’s not cute, it’s not funny, it’s awful when you're 14 yo-- really any age actually).

So, one day I wore a long jean skirt for a youth outing with the church. I was required to wear it, but I always wore leggings underneath so I wouldn’t accidentally show my undies if I fell down or the wind blew it. This fucker had to say something about it. The old man turned to me with a wrinkled smirk as I was passing by him and dared to utter, “Now, don’t you feel most femine and ladylike in that skirt? I’m sure Jesus would like seeing you like that.”

My shoulders clench up tight, my brow furrows. All I can remember seeing is fucking red and actually trembling with fury. (This was happening in my pastor, D’s father’s, own living room mind you.) D was there watching as I blanched about ten shades of red in anger and embarrassed because that prick of an old man called me out in front of everyone. I turned to him and half shouted, “NO! I don’t!” I could see my pastor’s mouth drop to the floor as I began to completely obliterate this old man. But I couldn't stop myself as I started to further cut into him. “—I hate wearing skirts! I don’t feel ladylike! In fact, they make me feel vulnerable! What if some guy tries to rape me! They won’t have any problem getting to me!—Why is something with a whole on the bottom more ladylike than something that actually covers me?! I like pants! They are comfortable and they make me feel safe! Why is that a sin to wear something that is more covering?!?! I’m not cross dressing, my mom bought them in the girl’s session!! [Keep in mind that was a long time ago, I don’t feel like people should care about what section they get their clothes from, wear what you want] And what do you know about wearing a skirt?! You’re a man! You try wearing them! They suck! You need to stop telling me what I can and can’t wear! I’m not dressing like a whore for wearing something with a crotch!! SO LEAVE ME ALONE!!” Everyone in the living room was just stunned at my audacity to dare speak to this pastor like I did. But he was so fucking quiet after that. And I stormed out of the house and the guest pastor never spoke to me again about it. Luckily my mom came and picked me shortly after that. She was angry too after I told her what happened. That old fuck singled me out and I was pissed off. I was a teenager and that shit was embarrassing!

But I made the mistake of showing my true self. I think after that moment, D stopped liking me after that.

Some shit went down south with my parents behind closed doors of my household, and eventually they got divorced. They left the small church because the pastor didn’t approve of it. Pastor said that my parents just needed more counseling but he didn't understand that they just needed to not be together. Sometimes you can’t make things work. Especially when your dad is a toxic piece of shit that only cares about himself.

Anyways, everyone in my family left the church, but I stuck around that shit-hole just to see if D would ask me out. I was so desperate, I felt like I waited forever, but really it was like 2-3 years, and I felt like I couldn’t give up. Eventually D and I turned 16. He started to become distant and a little mean towards me and I became confused and started to realize the worst. Finally, I was tired of waiting so I asked his older sister if he liked me on the way back taking me home. I could see it in her face, that she didn’t want to have my heart broken, but reluctantly she told me no. He actually liked another girl at his new private school and was going to ask her parents to court her instead.

I was so devastated.... It hurt so much, I cried myself to sleep that night, and most of that week I was very sad.

Obviously, after that, I stopped going to church entirely, I couldn't show my face anymore. Finally let myself question my faith, sexuality, gender roles, and humanity all together. And realized that religion was stupid (in my opinion at the time) and I came u with the conclusion that people can be sheep. I was a sheep for a long time. And I refuse to be one ever again.

High school was very enjoyable after that, and I let myself grow and started to love other religions and world history, and tried to stop being so judgmental of others and what they felt like. I even got into a relationship with a sweet boy around my age.

Eventually in college, after a break-up with my high school sweetheart, I reconnected with D via FB. Apparently, the church went under and his parents moved away to Greece to be missionaries or something. D still lives in the same town I’m in, but graduated from a “Christian academy”—not Catholic, Christian. Catholic colleges are accredited at least. But he basically told me he was a secret “bad boy” now. He lost his virginity in highschool, (like I did) and he was totally trying to booty call me. Not even hiding it either! He was like, “Hey, Llama, you wanna fuck?”.

And I was like, “D! You broke my fucking heart when we were young! Don’t you remember that???”

And he was like, “Oh no! I had no idea! (the fuckin’ liar). Well, we can fuck now!~ *wink, wink*”

🤨

This is where I was a jerk.... Because he broke my heart. I led him on, told him I would meet up with him at his house to sleep with him, and just didn’t show up—ghosted him ever since. The worst part about that, is I still don’t regret doing that to him. I hope I hurt his feelings and felt like an ass like I did.

So years have passed, I consider myself as a rather successful woman now. I’m 27, I consider myself Buddhist (I am a terrible Buddhist I know), I am an Occupational Therapy Assistant and I have a great husband (I married the guy I was with in high school). And he loves the real me—the crazy closet weeb, cartoon watching, creative, expressive, me! The person who also writes fanfiction about a romance novel and he is fine with it. Because he is a huge nerd too and we are both nerds together.

My husband is my best friend and I don’t know what I’d do without him. When I write about Rhemi and Muriel, I draw a lot of inspiration with our conversation we have and how relationship dynamics are and I think it makes the writing more authentic and makes them feel a bit more real.

I love my husband more than anything… So why do I keep dreaming about that stupid asshole that just liked the fake me? D was and always will be a total tool. He is like the basic bitch of a man. And yet I still find him creeping in my dreams and I try to cheat on my husband with him in them. I wake up feeling totally terrible and weird after them too. D is a terrible fucking person—the worst person you can be in my opinion—The kind of person why lies and tells people one thing, but hides the fact that he’s really just a nasty fuck boy. If you are one, just be honest! Don’t tell another woman you're a good christan man, when really you’ve slept with not just one, but multiple girls! That how you get fucking STDs! I hate being lied to, and I’m sure other girls do too! So I guess that’s why I do, because I felt like I was lied to my entire life. Then again, why should I even care?! Why do I feel like I still obsess over him? I hate him so much now! So why do I even care? Why do I still find myself stalking him on social media? Why does it even matter? Why do I want him to see I’m happy without him? Why do I want him to see what he could have had with me? We were just stupid teenagers! Why did I care so much? Why did it hurt so much when I found out he didn’t like me?! It’s been over a decade, and we didn’t even really date! Why did this affect me so hard? …. FUCK!

So yeah. That’s my long ass rant for you all… thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#story time #mad llama momma story #true story #weird dreams #why does my brain do this?#anybody relate?#does anyone get me?#vent post

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fvaleraye · 4 years ago

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WyldWood

ayyyyyyyyy, would you look at that, another chapter. heck yeah

i was in the mood to write smth for Velda, so i thought this might be a good chance to give y’all a little bit of world background at the same time. Velda’s been to some neat places, y’all this takes place before Unexpected Reunions btw, just in case that’s not obvious-

i hope y’all enjoy reading ‘^^

The Great Forest was a deep, winding, intimidating expanse of trees. It was so expansive that efforts to make roads to every village in and past the edges of it were still ongoing. It was filled with more foliage than you could imagine, as well as monsters, bandits, and a myriad of other dissidents, looking to escape the ever expanding clutches of civilization and law, or simply trying to live as far from man as they could. There are some things, however, that man avoids in these woods. In the deepest parts of the woods, the center of that immense expanse of forest, is a place unlike any other. A place where the great Council dare not tread, where magic has soaked into the boughs of the greatest trees, and magic seeps into the earth through the roots, and, in time, returns to the roots. A place not meant for little fleshlings. Only for the branch and the root.

The WyldWood.

Few dared to tread in the WyldWood, so few that there were no roads leading to it, in fact all roads gave it a unreasonably wide berth. But it lied there, in the center of the forest. Through the dense and ever-shaded forest was a place that could only be described as... magical. The bark and the leaves of the trees, the grass, even the sky and the clouds, it was all so much brighter, more vibrant, almost as if they were a painting you could walk right into. Wisps of magic trailed through the air, like embers from a fire, handily demonstrating the sheer amount of magic contained in this place. Vines both great and small, thorned and smooth, grew everywhere, at times covering the ground below them entirely, making travel through it a bit troublesome. What could make a home in such a place, you may ask? Well, it wasn't the animals, it wasn't the elves, it wasn't fairies either, it certainly wasn't humans. No. The only things here were the trees, the plants. The WyldBorn.

The WyldBorn were a strange race of living plants, bark and vine given Sparks. Such a thing was unheard of, but here it was. There was no other place on Magna Terra where plant life could gain a Spark. The WyldWood was just that special. The WyldBorn could be an... obtuse race to interact with. Their ways were strange. Their speech was strange. Their mannerisms were difficult to understand for anyone but themselves. And they found "Fleshlings", as they called the other races, to be just as obtuse. Sentience among the WyldBorn varied, from little Wyldling drones that existed only to do simple tasks, to the "nobility", for lack of a better term, among them that possessed some sort of higher consciousness. At the very center of the WyldWood was the great, immortal progenitor of the race as a whole. The Great RootMother. The center of the great Wyld consciousness, shaper of the WyldWood, and the origin and greatest user of Wyld Magic. The great being was the oldest living thing on the entirety of Magna Terra, or, at least, the oldest living thing that has been confirmed to actually exist. Many sought her out for her knowledge, knowledge of the world, of Wyld Magic, or simply to see if she truly did exist. While the RootMother did not know all, she did still know many things. More than any other living being. Many considered the RootMother to be a sort of nature goddess, though the Holy Church was quick to dismiss any of that sort of implication. It was a trek, but few people made the trip and came out saying that it wasn't worth it. They knew what they were getting into.

The one person making the journey right now, though, only really had an idea of what she was getting herself into.

Velda had been walking through the woods for days now, with nothing but a little bag of rations, a bedroll, her old bow and arrows, and the dirty brown clothes on her back. She had seen the Silver City magi and historians, but nobody knew anything about what she wanted to know. It was disheartening. But a few people did point her in the direction of the RootMother, and said that if anyone on this earth knew the answers she sought, it would be her. Thankfully the WyldWood wasn't too hard to find, nearly every map you could find had a big "DON'T GO HERE" area in the middle of the Great Forest. She had never met a WyldBorn. She wondered what they were like. Were they really all plants...? It was pretty exciting. Of course, the slog through the woods to get there wasn't. It was miserable. The bedroll was better than sleeping on the dirt, but her back still really didn't appreciate it. She couldn't wait until she could go home and sleep in a real bed. With a mattress. And pillows. And Blankets. But, she couldn't leave, not yet, not until she had found the RootMother and spoke to her. Gods, please let her be real, I don't want to have walked all this way for literally nothing... Eventually, as she walked, miserable, but still keeping a steady pace, the dirt and faded grass gave way to much more luscious greenery. Seemed like she was going the right way.

As she kept her pace, she started to feel an... odd feeling in her chest. A. Lightness. Like she was floating. A moment later, she started to see little wisps of magic trailing around lazily. There were a few, but as she kept going there were many. Yeah, she was definitely in the right place. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the weird floaty feeling she was getting. It was probably from the sheer saturation of magic in the area. As she continued for a few minutes longer, the ground started to rumble, and she froze. She looked around. But there was nothing. Nothing except the vines, and the trees. After a moment, some of those vines started to move.

The tangled mess of vines and roots in front of her started to snake and coil, tangling and untangling, shifting and contorting, until its form resembled something like a hulking beast. Vines coalesced at its "shoulders", and a wooden face-like mask formed at its face, eyeholes glowing as brightly as the runes on its body. The two shared a long, silent stare.

"... uh.... u-uh... h... hiiii...?" The girl greeted, hesitantly, trying to surpress her panic. "I.... u-uh... I-I'm looking f-for th-the... the RootMother...?"

The WyldGiant just stared, as unmoving as the trees surrounding them. Then, after a few moments, it looked up at the sky thoughtfully, as if it had just processed her words. "... Rrrrroooooooot.... Mmmmmoooootheerrrrrrrrr......." It parroted, its voice deep, rumbling like an earthquake. It looked back down at Velda, and slowly brought its creaking extremities around her, picking her up gently, like one would a baby bird. She tried her best to not move to much, though she was ready to have a panic attack. It set her ever-so-gently onto its shoulder, giving her a long glance. Then, it looked to the ground for a moment, unmoving. after a minute or so, it looked up again, and started to trod through the forest. The girl just anxiously held on for dear life.

The walk was slow, or, at least, it felt like it. It was a big creature that was carrying her around. It was trying its best not to throw her off, but it was still rocking quite a bit as it moved. The two moved in relative silence, though it couldn't really be considered silence, what with how much noise the giant was making as it moved along. Eventually, she decided to speak up. "... s-so... i-if I may ask..." She started, quietly, fidgeting as she spoke. "... wh-where are g-going...?"

The answer didn't come immediately, the WyldGiant seemed to need a few moments in advance before it did anything, but an answer did indeed come eventually. "... to.... Rooot... Mmmmoootherrr..." It replied, its own voice shaking its entire being.

"... y-you're just... gonna t-take me there? N-no questions asked??"

"... Mmmmotherrrrr... lllliiiikes... visiiitoorrrrrs..."

"... o-okay..."

The trip took a while, the sun had started to set by the time the giant stopped. The sprites of magic were that much brighter in the evening dusk, and the runes dotting the landscape were that much more obvious. It laid down low to the ground, and let its passenger off. It gave a long, thoughtful gaze forward, prompting her to look in the same direction. She could see an absolutely enormous tree. She was guessing that was the RootMother. Then, the giant turned around, and slowly plodded back off into the forest.

"... th-thank you." She called over her shoulder, meekly. There wasn't answer, but it did hear her. It just continued to walk off. Velda started what seemed to be the last leg of her trip.

It was much easier, thankfully. There weren't nearly as many vines, the ground was fairly even, if a bit bumpy in places. She decided to take the time to actually consider what she was going to say to the RootMother. How does one speak to a plant being older than your entire family line? Should she talk normally, or should she try to be respectful? Does she talk quietly or a loudly? Does she even need to talk at all?? What if the RootMother can hear her thoughts??? Oh gods how would she even be able to handle that-

Calm down. I’m overthinking again... ... but how can I not overthink when I’m about to meet a giant tree god???

It wasn't long before she was at the foot of the great tree. She was able to get a good look at it now. Bark and boughs twisted gracefully, fluidly, into one surprisingly cohesive form. Runes were etched all along the surface. The tree was shaped vaguely like a woman, though it was still clearly a tree. One could make a lovely, graceful form, though, in place of arms, there were branches holding up the lush, vibrant, enormous greenery that was her leaves, her Spark shining brightly within her chest. A face-like mask, very similar to the WyldGiants, slowly came down from the treetop, the near deafening creaking echoing throughout the entire forest as the enormous entity bent down to get a good look at her guest. She bared no expression, but the visitor could feel a sort of motherly gentleness on her blank features. The silence between the two was awkwardly long. At least, it was for Velda.

"... h... h-hello." She said, figuring that a simple hello would probably be a good start. "Are... are y-you the... th-the R-RootMother...?"

"Yes." She replied, her voice soft, echoing gently off the forest around them. The answer came much quicker than the other was expecting, to be quite honest.

"O-oh, g-good, good..." Her voice trailed off as she fidgeted. How does one speak to a millennia-old forest god? Was there any sort of etiquette? She had no clue. This wasn't exactly an every-day thing.

"Have you something to ask me, child...?" She asked, her tone coming off as a mother trying to gentle comfort her nervous child.

She continued to fidget, and let out a small nervous chuckle. "H-how'd you know...?"

"Most come to me with questions. Especially in these times. However, if you have come to ask me about the dragons, I cannot help you. They were before even my time, I’m afraid."

"O-oh! N-no! I-I'm not h-here to ask about d-dragons! I-I'm not much of a historian..."

"I see... then what, pray tell, are you here to ask then...?"

The girls eyes fell to the ground, her hands still wringing nervously. She considered how to put this question. It was one thing to ask a person, it was another thing entirely to ask a... tree god. After a moment, though, she did finally speak up. "... I... th... this might b-be a... weird question... but... do you kn-know... what I... am...?"

The RootMother took a long, hard look at her visitor. She tilted her head, and the other could feel her squinting, even if she couldn't really physically squint. "Hmmm... I am... unsure..." She answered, thoughtfully. Velda's arms fell to her sides as she gave a look of incredulous confusion.

"W-what do you mean you're "unsure"???" She said, her voice betraying her utter disbelief. "I-I thought y-you were supposed to know e-everything when it c-came to m-magic a-a-and sparks!"

"I know much. Not all." She replied, her tone still as gentle and even as ever. "I am truly sorry. But your... spark, is not something I am knowledgeable in."

The girl just stood there for a while, in shock. She. She came all this way. All this way. Just to get an "I don't know". Gods. Fucking damnit. Slowly, she sat on the ground, head in her hands, and let out a long sigh. She wanted to cry.

"... I will say, however..." She added, her tone starting to sound even gentler than before. "I do feel a sort of... kindred spirit, in your spark."

"... kindred spirit...?" She parroted, raising her head slowly. "What's that s-supposed to mean...?"

"There is a... familiarity. I cannot place it. But it is there."

She considered the beings words for a moment. Hmm. She. Wasn't really sure what she meant by that. But it was the closest thing to an answer she's gotten in a long, long time. It was progress. "... wh-where do I even g-go from here..."

"If I may... have you considered seeing the elflings...? You seem to bare a sort of resemblance to their kin."

"... yeah I g-get that a l-lot..." She mumbled, letting out another sigh. "I-I haven't seen the elves. I f-figured I'd try after this, if you... didn't have answers..."

"I am truly sorry I could not give you the answers you sought, child. I can tell it troubles you so."

"... you have no idea..."

"I may not have the answers you desire, but, as I said, I do feel a sort of kinship with you... so, I shall grant you something. A gift."

"A... a g-gift?"

"Yes. Hand me your bow."

She tilted her head at the RootMother. She... wasn't sure where she was going with this, but okay. She stood up, slowly, and hesitantly took the bow from her back, nervously handing it out to her. A few wisps of magic started to circle around as vines took the bow from her hand, wrapping around the old cracked wood like a snake coiling around its prey. The little motes of magic continued to circle it, until they all disappeared in small flash. Then, the vines started to sink back into the ground, revealing the bow once more. It was different now. It seemed to be as good as new, and glowing blue runes now covered it in nearly its entirety. She hesitantly took the bow back, looking up at the others face.

"I dub thee, Moonsong. Your bow is now kissed by the purest of Wyld Magic."

"W-wyld Magic...?" She gripped the bow, testing its weight a bit, glancing at the other as she did. "... isn't that, like, the m-most random and chaotic magic ever...?"

"It is only as disordered and "random" as nature is." She replied, sagely. "Do not fret, it will not cause you harm. It will give each arrow you fire special properties, and, under the moonlight, you will not even need arrows at all, for the Wyld shall provide you with arrows of moonlight."

"... neat..." She whispered, putting the bow back over her shoulder.

She gave a little snicker at the girls phrase. "Yes. "Neat" indeed."

"... th-thank you, really. E-even if you c-couldn't tell me what I w-wanted to know, I... I-I think you helped me g-get a little c-closer."

"You're welcome, child. I'm sorry I could not help more... safe travels."

#Valerie Writes #Scintillam #Velda #i had fun with this one asdflkjn-#and i'm p happy with how it turned out...#just a chill little adventure #well. i mean #depends on ur definition of chill i guess aslkdfjn #i hope y'all enjoy readin' '^^#*softly* n' reblogs would be appreciated if u did-

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spacecharr · 5 years ago

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Why I’m Not Threatened By Old Men

A (high) treatise on why young women shouldn't be afraid of all old men.

Written by a (high) young bi woman of colour.

---

Lemme start by saying I wrote that title because I thought it would be clickbaity. And I wrote the subtitle like that because I'm being "funny" and I anticipate it will generate trolling. My popcorn is getting cold, and I want a show.

And incidentally, it's all true.

Because this is SpaceCharr pontificating on #authenticity and weed, son!

My local Starbucks is small, has a tiny little patio, limited seating and serves a wildly diverse customer base. From your Basic Skinny Pumpkin Spice Latte Bitch(TM) to uniformed police, from sharply dressed businessmen to soccer moms with three kids and a Burberry purse, from punk-rock loud and proud visibly LGBTQ folks to button-down sweater-vest old-schoolers, and from local college kids to retired old men.

It’s fascinating to see the crazy range of people and it makes for eavesdropping lazily on some hilarious (and sometimes very serious) conversations ranging all over the place.

And for some reason, I have a really really easy time getting old white men to talk to me.

Lemme lay some context: I’m a friendly gal. I’m sociable, (I’ve been told) charming, easy going, and very casual. I remember in elementary being given feedback by my teachers that I was “unapproachable”, and they were worried I would have difficulty making friends. From junior high on, I purposefully (after much coaching from my parents and my mom especially) sought out opportunities to learn better social skills. As an only kid, I didn’t have any siblings to be guaranteed friends with, and my relationship with my extended family was spotty at best.

So if I wanted friends, I knew I’d have to get them on my own. (Troll Note: I know some dipshit’s gonna be all “omg sure #thathappened. Like a grade schooler can know that�� - and you’re right! Grade like, 3-6 me had no fuckin’ clue. But 20s me? Who’s gone through a bunch of psychotherapy? Now she knows a bit more)

I learned interpersonal skills. I did drama, I joined clubs, I did Toastmasters (fuckin’ fantastic, btw, look for your local chapter), and I even did the Dale Carnegie Interpersonal Skills course that’s based off How to Win Friends and Influence People (1000% recommend, A+ on how to be a decent human despite its manipulative-sounding title which is brilliant). I learned how to be a more approachable person - and I learned why people find it approachable.

I saw the difference in how people received me when I spoke formally versus when I spoke in a very familiar tone (”hello” vs “hey, hey!”). I noticed that I could easily put the people I was dealing with off-balance in a good way (relieved surprise) with humour and well-meant self-deprecation. I learned through trial and error what body language and touch cues elicited in terms of responses across various types of people. It became second nature for me to analyse and act on these, and my knowledge of these techniques helps me daily in my work as a consultant.

So now, after several years in the workforce, multiple significant life events (aka I’m relatively old), and more overall life experience, I’m often described by my coworkers and friends as “very friendly and often happy”. Of course, according my sibling-like co-scoundrels in my cube farm, I am “disgustingly upbeat” - but they say it with love because they know I’ll tease them relentlessly, too.

I have found over the years that I have actually changed down to the core of that grade school girl. I’ve gone from a kid who struggled to make friends and who was seen as unapproachable, to a person who can very quickly establish good rapport.

(side note: holy fuck I just realized I went from Dandere to Deredere... I’m a fuckin’ anime side character, shit)

Kind of the best example of what I mean is an interaction I had with a new massage therapist at this place I had a gift card for. That is to say, a complete and total stranger whom I had never interacted with or seen in the past. The shop I was at had you wait in the reception area with the receptionist until the RMT came to get you. So this dude came out to meet me, introduced himself and we chatted easily for a bit. After not even a minute of us chatting, he and I were laughing together and shared an easy chemistry. The receptionist - remember, who’d been there when the RMT and I introduced ourselves for the first time - then asked me “oh, are you two old friends?” to which he and I laughed and said “no, we’re just friendly”.

Anyways - that’s the context.

I’m a friendly gal. Sociable, a bit charming, easy going, and easily able to manipulate her own behaviours in order to make the other person feel more comfortable.

In Harry Potter-code: I’m a Slytherin who can play a Hufflepuff, but only because it gets me what I want - your cooperation and rapport - more easily. However, I also do genuinely mean those nice Hufflepuff-like actions - just, there’s an ulterior motive attached.

I’m also young, and obviously with South Pacific Islander blood in me (exotic features - I’ve been told I’d be cast in Miss Saigon if they ever did a musical in my city - I took it as as compliment, since I’m friends with the old white dude who told me that and he did mean it as a compliment).

Let’s put this together:

Exotic, tan-skinned young woman

Chatty, friendly, skilled at making people feel comfortable

Can make someone feel like an old friend

Easily self-deprecating and humourous

In a Starbucks with chatty retired old dudes and a lot of shared seating

Can anyone else see why my title makes more sense? (Legit, I am high, so if it doesn’t make sense, that makes sense)

Lemme spell it out for you bois: I’m an old perverted white man’s wet dream.

(yes, I’ve been told such to my face; yes, I believe from experience that most of the people who won’t believe me are straight young men - not out of malice, I think, but out of a belief that people aren’t that bad [not that old men finding young women attractive is bad - acting on it in certain ways however, can be]).

I’ve worked out of the Starbucks I mentioned several times in the past. As a consultant, I have a measure of flexibility in my schedule and I find I work best on some of my problem solving and documentation work when I’m out of the office. The change of scenery and the need to shut out the environment to “see” my work helps me - plus I don’t get drawn into the co-scoundrel shenanigans.

And I’m not kidding you - 8/10 times that I go there, I make a new old white man friend. Even the bi dude I met (srsly, it feels like since I made the decision to be openly out, I’m meeting more and more bi people everywhere when before there was nobody) was an old white dude.

I fuckin’ love it.

I am a young, bi woman of colour who loves having old white man friends.

Because they’re just as chill, non-judgemental, self-deprecating, sociable, and easy-going as I am. And they appreciate my dad jokes and bi puns. Seriously. Dads everywhere - we all secretly love your jokes.

And, y’know what? I think more young women - LGBTQ or not, PoC or not - should want to have old white dudes as friends.

INB4 tumblrinas: I don’t mean resurrect Hitler and be his gal pal. I mean don’t dismiss a possible friend just because they’re old, white, and have a dick. Use your brain - not every human is good, but likewise, not every human is bad. We come in shades in all ways.

I won’t tell you what to do, because I don’t know. What I want to share with you is why I feel the way I do. And let you do what you will with it - because I’m not interested in changing your mind. I’m interesting in trading stories and adventures - and understanding more about each other through that exchange.

Here’s why I love being open to talking to old white dudes:

Dad jokes. I’m not kidding. I love Dad Jokes.

They’re often past the point of giving a shit about society, so if you have a genuine, good-natured conversation about your point of view, chances as they won’t give a shit as long as you’re happy and no one’s dying.

They have amazing stories. I can’t tell you the number of times a new friend of mine has launched into crazy tales of things they got up to when they were younger.

They have great advice. Often, they’ve made some pretty bad mistakes. And they’re all too happy to share their lessons and spare someone else the trouble.

They often just want a chat. They don’t need a new friend, they don’t want your number, they just want a lively conversation with someone who isn’t gonna call the cops on them.

It’s so freakin’ easy to make their day and make them smile. And the genuine surprise when they find a young chickie they’ve no doubt had to weigh the pros-and-cons of talking to, who is easy-going and as happy to make their acquaintance as they are hers? It’s so cute. Old man smiles are so cute.

They respect you for being unapologetically who you are. They know that they’ve invited themselves into a talk with you - and they’re willing to carry and/or exit that talk if they find you being openly yourself. (which means if “yourself” is a fuckwit, they’ll just drop you if they know what’s good for ‘em; but then you’re just a fuckwit in Starbucks)

I guess for more location context, I should add that I live in Canada; it’s not an uncommon occurrence here for spontaneous conversations to happen. It might be more rare in other places, though. My city is also quite progressive and has a fairly active and supported LGBTQ scene.

All this said, it’s just a really nice experience in my mind to have good relationships (passing conversations, spontaneous coffee clubs, casual friendships, or more serious friendships) with old dudes as a young woman.

It’s like having a legion of second father figures, or uncles, more accurately fun drunkles, and older brothers.

I enjoy several significant friendships with old dudes:

I go for coffee almost every week with two white old dudes and a dudette (I’d say “old” but she’d punch me out): our conversations range from politics to wood relationships to name calling to sibling-like teasing.

I have three co-scoundrels at work that I’m close friends with, all are old men. None are in a position to help me with anything at work, but damn are they hilarious and they’re a ready Friday-afternoon morale boost with their antics.

I have a very close old Japanese-Canadian friend. We have a complicated and somewhat tense relationship, but ultimately I think it can be said that we have a certain platonic love for each other. Though we don’t speak frequently, we’re both very significant to the other. He was my taiko instructor.

I have another very close relationship with one of my long-standing old dude friends. He’s known me since I was 9. A single hug from this man can stop an anxiety attack in its tracks. We kiss each other on the cheek and like to weird out the ladies at Starbucks when we go there with each other by holding hands - we’re both Slytherin trolls.

Don’t forget the OG Old Guy: my proper Old Man. My papa. Our relationship was strained by my mother’s unhealthy approach to all her familial relations during my early years. But as I’ve moved out, gotten older, and gained more life experience, it feels like my dad is finally realizing I’m not a little girl anymore - that I’m a woman, with woman needs, woman wants, and woman expectations and behaviours. We don’t talk about all things, naturally, he’s still my dad. But I can’t tell you how great it feels to have a dad who I know has my back no matter what.

I feel like there’s a certain conditioning for young women to “fear” the “old white man”. Certainly for me in particular it feels like there’s lots of factors in play: my “tropical” ethnicity, my youth, my LGBTQ nature (still haven’t been asked for a threesome as a bi woman - I’m impressed with my city), and, naturally, my gender.

While I do know that those are all things that certainly do warrant a certain amount of wariness around strangers (old in my neighborhoods usually means highly conservative about, depending on the age of said person, “the immigrants” or “the non-whites”. Age from young-old to old-ass-old. They’re a product of their time.), I also think it’s vital not to let that wariness get in the way of making a possible new friend.

Anyways, I need to wrap this up.

How does this loop back into #authenticity and weed? Well, it’s been my experience that the old (white + some Asians, in my case) dude friends that I’ve made are some of the best people to help you be yourself.

They have anecdotes to illustrate benefits, cons, risks, and rewards; they have dad jokes and puns to bring some much-needed levity; they don’t give a fuck about the other Starbucks goers - for better or for worse; and they - just like you - just wanna have a good day and be able to be themselves.

Does this apply to every old man? No. Does it not apply to every old man? No.

If you’ve read this far, you have the brain capacity necessary to give someone a chance. Now, you’ll wanna do some preparation if this is nearing your max capacity, because you wanna make sure you’re not letting the wrong old man come talk to you all friendly-like.

But once you find one who’s just a swell dude? Cut ‘im some slack, maybe remember that he’s struggling to speak your vocabulary as much as you’re struggling to understand his.

Sit back, drink some coffee, smoke a joint, and share a story once in a while.

Anyways. That’s been SpaceCharr Pontificating.

Cheers, buds.

Stoner note: My hand rolling’s gotten so much better. And the weed I have doesn’t seem to smell as strongly as the pre-roll I had that one time, so I might sesh in the park at some point. I have my inaugural shroom trip this weekend - bestie agreed to tripsit! Yay! And she’s bringing the whole Planet Earth HD collection! - so it might not be for a while. I want to give the experience the attention it deserves, plus I need to establish a clean baseline to experiment accurately with microdosing.

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kill-it-with-an-x-burner · 7 years ago

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Fairy Tale (Chuunibyou!Izuku)

Basically, I just wanted to have an excuse to write Chuunibyou!Izuku at some point in my life. This is an experimental fic that I did on a whim so who knows if I pick this story up again at some point. (This is a one-shot btw.)

I wrote this in one sitting so pardon me for any spelling/grammatical errors and incoherent babbles.

Summary: As a child, Izuku had always been off in his own world. So when he gets a quirk fueled by his imagination, his personality takes a rather odd turn.

Izuku has been coming home late recently.

Normally, it wouldn't be too suspicious since most kids his age often got caught up playing with their friends outside. However, Izuku wasn't like them— he preferred to stay inside and read story books or watch hero videos all day. He'd rather sit at one spot for hours on end.

But nowadays, he looked completely exhausted; like he constantly ran a marathon every day. At times, he's covered in bruises and scrapes. She wasn't blind to his limps and minute flinches, either.

She even caught Izuku having long, one-sided conversations with himself. Izuku has always been a unusual child who spoke and acted differently from other kids, but he had never done anything like that before.

Inko thought that it might be his quirk— that her child may be seeing something that's not there, but the doctor said that it wasn't the case. Izuku may not have an extra joint, but her son's quirk is still dormant. "Perhaps it's just his imagination," the doctor said.

Yes, she was told it was normal for kids around Izuku's age to have imaginary friends, but she can't help but worry. Being extremely introverted at a young age wasn't healthy. I mean, the only friend he had that wasn't imaginary was Katsuki— and that was only because Katsuki is her friend's son!

It was why Inko resolved to get her son to talk. Did he prefer to be alone because kids picked on him at school? Why has he been returning home late? Was there anything she could help with?

As his mother, she wanted to know.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" She said, gesturing at her son to sit beside her. "These couple of weeks, you've been coming home tired and injured. Are you being bullied? What's going on?"

He froze like a child caught pilfering from the cookie jar. He began to fidget and stammer, trying to explain his situation. "I-I-It's nothing like that, I just—"

"I know that kids have been picking on you for being quirkless, okay? You shouldn't have to put up with them, Izuku! Just because you don't have a quirk doesn't give them an excuse to—"

"M-Mom, you've got it all wrong," Izuku interrupted her rant. He then mumbled something under his breath.

Wait, what? Did she hear that right? "Can you repeat that?" When he opened his mouth to speak again, she noticed that his bottom lip was trembling. "Louder, this time. I'm not mad. Calm down."

Izuku sighed. "...I have a quirk."

"You do?" Why this was wonderful news! He's always aspired to be a hero like All Might, and now he finally awakened his ability. "That's great and all, but what's it got to do with your bruises? And why haven't you told me yet?"

Her son looked as if he was about to cry. Knowing him, he probably was at any moment now. "I wanted to surprise you on your birthday tomorrow! All the other kids have flashy ones! I've been training my quirk so you to be proud of me..."

Inko hugged her son. "Oh, honey, it doesn't matter to me what quirk you have. I'll always be proud of you." Thank god for that. The woman was glad she was mistaken. Heaven knows what she'd do if her son was truly ostracized by his peers.

She clasped his hands. "Then, can your dear old mother see her wonderful son's equally wonderful quirk?" Izuku nodded excitedly. His mom wanted to see his quirk, even if it's not as eye-catching as Kacchan!

He trotted a few feet away from her. Her son took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A light green aura enveloped his body as a glowing circle appeared in front of him. Wind gathered and circulated in one spot until she could make out a shadow. In a split second, he opened his eyes and spread out his arms. "Fairy Sylph, come on out!"

Much to Inko's wonder, an actual fairy emerged from the wind. She had light green eyes and matching hair. Her heart-shaped face was framed by two, feather-like bangs and elongated ears. The tiny creature's body was covered from neck to toe with feathers of varying shades of green; arranged in such a way that it looked like a dress. Finally, on her back were delicate butterfly wings that glittered with every movement.

She was ethereal; downright gorgeous.

Inko felt like a little girl all over again.

"You shouldn't be sad about your quirk. This is incredible! I've never heard of someone summoning a fairy befo— IZUKU!" Inko panicked. Her son was lying down on the floor, unmoving. She carried him in her arms and began fanning him with her other hand.

The freckled boy held out a shaky hand to her. His mouth trembled as he spoke to his mother, "Calling Sylph is really tiring, mom... it's why I've... been practicing. Didn't wanna... keep passing out every time..."

"Izuku, I know you're excited and all but please don't push yourself too hard. It's a great quirk, but I don't want your health to suffer because of it."

A few hours later, her son already recovered. It wasn't anything life-threatening, but his quirk was extremely taxing on his stamina. Ever since that day, she helped her son harness his quirk so he wouldn't be too exhausted every single time he uses his quirk. In turn, her son was able to summon without collapsing and often went home with a tiny spirit companion or two.

For quite some time, Inko believed that he can only summon small creatures like Sylph and the azure-colored animal that tagged along during their trips to the grocery.

Then one day...

"I'm home!"

She went to the doorway to greet Izuku. "Welcome ba—" Inko dropped her ladle in shock. Her eyes widened incredulously as she stared at the creature behind her son. She raised a quivering finger at it. "W-W-W-Wha...!"

The freckled boy was lying down on the doorway. Izuku beamed at her as he tiredly patted the enormous, reptilian snout beside him, which was blocking the entire entrance. Smoke steadily leaked from the sides of its mouth as it let out a deep, throaty growl. She heard faint screams from outside.

Inko almost had a heart attack.

"Izuku!"

There was a reason why Izuku was her favorite of them all.

Obaa-sama, as many in the family addressed her, was the stern and strict matriarch of the Midoriya family who ruled over them with an iron fist. She may not be able to burn everything down like her husband, but she was incredibly intimidating and a figure of authority in their bloodline.

Contrary to popular belief, it was she and not her husband, who held the power in the family. She was the one who entered public service and eventually, the military. She was the one who went to the frontlines against the vilest of villains, whilst her husband stayed home to protect their children. She was the one who fought against the oppression against the quirk users. She was the one who brought prestige and honor to their family.

Thus, her word is law.

Much to her dismay, none of her children became like her. No one entered public service— no heroes, no policemen, no soldiers, no anything. They all settled for mundane jobs and thankless careers. Not to mention that no one bothered to at least hone their abilities. The powerful quirks they were blessed with were utterly wasted on them.

To rub salt into the wound, none of her children were able to inherit her quirk. Instead, they took after her husband's stronger quirk, and her grandchildren and great-grandchildren were no different. They either inherited fire or from their other parents who had equally strong and impressive abilities. If she, with her unconventional quirk was able to make a difference and bring honor to their family, then surely, those with better quirks can do the same if not better, right?

Honestly, her descendants were hopeless.

That is, until Inko, the wife of her youngest grandson, brought Izuku.

The child wasn't anything impressive— scrawny, clumsy, and soft-spoken. He cried easily, bruised easily from tripping everywhere, and for some time, he had been declared quirkless. She thought that he would be another failure in a long line of failures.

But then, it all changed on Izuku's fifth birthday.

The once thought quirkless child actually had a quirk. And not just any old ability, it was hers; he inherited her quirk. She was happy. Finally, someone in the family took after her! Not to mention that he had a more powerful version of hers and was ambitious enough to want to be a hero. This was the perfect opportunity.

"You're special, Izuku. You're the next hope of this family," She spoke as she petted his head. "Remember, every one of us is counting on you to restore our reputation."

Obaa-sama began to treat Izuku differently from the others. It was obvious to them that she regarded him with favoritism and many of their relatives were jealous that he was the one getting attention from the bitter old hag; that he's the one most likely to become head of the family in the future.

From then on, Izuku was convinced that he's meant for something more.

Izuku hadn't let praise and special treatment get to his head like Kacchan, however, it did lead to him developing a rather... odd personality.

The Midoriya matriarch was too blinded by the prospect of reputation that she never noticed anything, but the rest of the Midoriya family saw and knew all too well what was happening to the kid. It didn't help that his quirk thrived from it, either.

Obaa-sama's influence was fueling Izuku's delusions.

Oh, boy.

All Might was no stranger to eccentricities.

In the hero community, you interact with people from all sorts of backgrounds— and this meant meeting the more... colorful of the bunch; himself included among them.

But never has he met anyone stranger than the young man before him.

"I have anxiously waited for this day; the day that Obaa-sama has foretold— the arrival of my destiny." The green-haired boy covered his left eye with a trembling hand. It was briefly reminiscent of another hero he saw posing on live television. "To think that it would be you of all people... that you and I meet must be a fate decided by the world itself."

The man had been chasing a slime villain earlier. He barely made it in time to rescue the kid from being suffocated and taken over by said criminal. When he woke the kid up, All Might was taken aback because the boy he saved spaced out only to instantly burst in joy. For a moment, the man swore he saw sparkles appearing in the background.

The boy then directed his gaze at him. He expected the boy to thank him or something—

"I-I summoned you, didn't I, Sir All Might?"

—not this.

"Summon? What do you mean?" He scratched his head in confusion.

Predictably, the child ignored his query and went off to a tangent.

"Of course, I would summon you. I'm the best in the world. Obaa-sama even said that my quirk is more advanced; that I could summon any being! Ah, but wait. I can only summon spirits, not living people." He paled fast. "Oh, no. This is bad. This is really, really bad. If I summoned him, does this mean that Sir All Might is... is..."

The man felt dread settle in his stomach. The boy looked like he was about to cry. He jumped in surprise when the boy yelled out of the blue. "NO, THIS CAN'T BE TRUE!"

(What kind of kid did he rescue?)

However, who could have imagined that this eccentric, crybaby young man reminded him of what it means to be a hero: that heroes risked their lives to fight villains and protect the citizens.

His fists still quaked at the reminder of his momentary weakness.

Due to his carelessness, the slime villain was able to break free from his temporary container and captured another child whilst he idled by because he had reached his limit. Meanwhile, the kid fearlessly dove into danger, claiming that his body moved on its own.

At that moment, he was more heroic than any of the heroes.

It wasn't as if he charged in recklessly, either. His movements in confronting the criminal were clearly given thought; he crouched down low so he wouldn't be too noticeable and hurled his bag towards the villain's eyes.

This kid had what it takes to be a true hero. The only problem was...

"What's your name?"

The kid extended his arm in a melodramatic fashion. "I am Midoriya Izuku! Thy calling is that of a summoner, whose life is guided by and dedicated to the Sacred Guardian Spirits!"

(He has to give props to the kid— he already has a hero's dramatic flair done perfectly.)

"Ah, I see. You have been rendered speechless by your sudden arrival in an unknown location. You see, in my darkest moments, I sought out the strongest spirit in the world to battle against the forces of evil. Hence, I was able to call upon you."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Alas, it is unfortunate that you have passed on to the next plane of existence. But fear not, for I will peer into the ultimate abyss with you!"

...Somehow, the kid thought he was already dead. All Might sighed in exasperation. I guess, seeing my true form just made it worse.

He didn't know if this kid would be a viable candidate to be the next successor of One For All, but he did know that Izuku was plenty heroic and his heart was in the right place. He just has a... peculiar speech pattern and mannerisms that can put people off.

For instance, he refers to himself as the prince of a fictional kingdom and views heroes as some sort of honorable warriors or chivalrous knights. Villains aren't merely villains to him; he calls them all sorts of titles: tyrants, overlords, evil witches; you name it.

(All Might has seen this kind of phenomenon before, back when he was a student. He had a classmate with a reptilian quirk who firmly believed that he had a mysterious dragon force sealed in his left arm. He often proclaimed that he was a Dragonborn warrior.

What did kids call it these days— chuunibou? Chuuniban?)

Surprisingly, when he offered to admit him to Yuuei as a recommended student, the kid refused out of some sense of honor and fair play. He wanted to get into the school the old-fashioned way: pass the entrance exam. Although, he's going to be a piece of work; the kid was clumsy and totally unathletic.

His quirk was something else, though. To have the power to summon creatures that mostly exist in fiction... he can see where his student's imagination was coming from.

When asked about how he awakened his ability, Izuku only answered, "I have stared into the darkness, and the darkness has stared back. In my journey of self-discovery, I was able to call upon the beings of the universe!" He then gestured to the fairy sitting on top of his head. "Sylph, the Noble Spirit of the Healing Wind, is merely the first of many to have deemed me worthy of their power!"

(This was Izuku-speak for, "I was just hanging out somewhere when I accidentally activated my quirk. I summoned a fairy. Isn't that cool?"

All Might didn't know whether to be dismayed or impressed with himself that he's gotten used to his student's speech pattern and quickly understood what he was trying to say.)

The next ten months wouldn't be boring at all, that's for sure.

Iida Tenya was a person of principle and discipline.

Above all else, he wanted to be like his older brother, the Turbo Hero, Ingenium. He had always admired Tensei not only for his exceptional physical capabilities, but also for being someone who genuinely desired to help others. He was a paragon of virtue who would stand for his ideals, no matter what.

And today was his first step towards becoming that kind of person.

Up to this point, he was slightly disappointed by his peers. Many of them were clearly in for the hero industry due to fame or fortune— he could already see it with their actions and behavior. They were taking it as a game, making bets over who got more points compared to the others.

However, the one who disappointed him the most was the curly-haired kid.

Not only was he disruptive with his constant mumbling, he treated the entire thing like an otaku circus act. He was wearing the most outlandish garb he'd ever seen: a sequined All Might-themed top hat with large protruding attachments mimicking the hero's hair and a black high-collared cape over his green tracksuit.

He looked absolutely ridiculous.

In addition to that, he had the audacity to prance around as if he owned the place and even attempted to sabotage their fellow examinees. Only the lowest of the low would consider such a thing. What a disgrace.

With such a horrendous first impression and after berating the kid himself, he didn't expect to work with him at all.

As the zero pointer destroyed the surrounding infrastructure and loomed over to attack them, everyone made a run for it. He was no different. He heard someone calling for attention, but paid no mind to it as he continued to flee the scene.

"Hey, I said. Sir Engine Legs!"

To his surprise, a green light blocked his way. Iida halted his dash, barely avoided hitting the small creature. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stared at it. It was a fairy— a tiny fairy that was giving him a harsh glare.

He then noticed a light tug on his sleeve. He glanced to his side and felt irritation when he gazed at the strange curly-haired boy from before. The fairy was now sitting on top of the other's head. His lips pursed and curled into a slight sneer as he spoke to him with a harsh, stern voice, "What do you want? Don't tell me that you're planning on sabotaging even in this conditi—"

"You are mistaken! I am not so dishonorable as to put down our temporary comrades. I know you dislike me, but hear me out." The boy interrupted. He pointed in the direction of the gimmick robot. "I saw a young maiden trapped underneath the rubble over there." Iida's eyes widened. It was true, he saw a vague brown-colored shape in the distance. The robot was still some ways off, but if she doesn't get out of there in time, she could end up crushed.

"I'm not strong enough to lift the rubble or fast enough to get there in time, and to our misfortune, the mechanical golem is quickly approaching. I could destroy it, but it would be for naught since she might get caught in the crossfire." The kid scratched the back of his head. "If you get the lady out of there, I can take down the enemy for good."

Taking down the robot to show off? And what is with that speech pattern? "You do realize that it's not worth any points, right?"

The boy's face twisted into an angry expression. "It's not about the points. It's about helping her!"

As much as Iida abhorred the boy's previous conduct, this was no time to argue with him out of personal differences. The curly-haired kid was right; it is more important to help others than to squabble over petty things.

"All I have to do is run, right?" Iida flexed his legs. "You better not get any funny ideas."

He made an offended sound. "Of course not! Retrieve the maiden at all costs. I shall begin my incantation." Green aura covered his entire body as the atmosphere became heavier with each passing second. "O black omen hidden within the depths of the universe, spread your wings as you grace us with your divine presence..."

The curly-haired kid was downright bizarre. Iida blinked dumbfoundedly at the sight before shaking his head. No need to get distracted now. He activated his quirk and braced himself for the run. Any mistake could lead to the girl getting severely hurt.

"Wahh, it's coming!" The girl screamed in terror.

(In her panic, Uraraka Ochako had forgotten to make the rubble float off from her.)

In one massive leap, he zoomed across the street to her side. Iida focused intense energy on his leg and with all his might, he unleashed a kick to break away the large stone over her; creating a wide arc of sheer force that shattered it into tiny pieces. His actions caught the robot's attention and it went after them straightaway.

Just when they thought they still had time to get away, the gimmick machine's movement speed accelerated. It's crazy fast! Is Yuuei trying to get their applicants killed?! Iida thought.

Before the girl could even get a word in edgewise, Iida immediately carried her into his arms and ran for it. He furrowed his eyebrows when he saw the curly-haired kid still muttering. A bead of sweat trickle down his temple, and he felt his stomach dropped in fear. What is he doing? We're going to get crushed at this rate!

Iida had just run past him, when the curly-haired kid smirked. He raised his arms. "In the name of the summoner, I evoke your name," The sky darkened and the clouds swirled. An enormous circle filled with unintelligible scribbles and symbols appeared in the midst of it. "Come forth!"

What happened next shattered everything Iida knew about quirks. In his shock, his grip on the girl slackened and accidentally dropped her as both of their jaws dropped. Many other applicants in the distance also stopped running to gape at what happened.

"WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?!"

A large, black thing emerged from the heavens. It bellowed a mighty roar so powerful, it sent shockwaves on all sides. With every movement, the creature sent debris flying as it was too large for the street. Buildings collapsed and debris flew everywhere as it went on a rampage, tearing down everything in its path.

The zero pointer was no different. In one fell swoop of its tail, the robot went down. It then proceeded to breathe some sort of plasma from its mouth and destroyed the rest of the infrastructure and all other robots in the vicinity. After it wreaked havoc, it seemed to circle around to check if there was anything it missed. Somehow satisfied with its destruction, the creature disappeared in a burst of light.

(The curly-haired kid summoned a dragon. What the hell.)

Understandably, everyone was silent as Present Mic announced that the test was over. Nobody paid attention to the medics that came in, either.

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom established in the land of the rising sun.

The kingdom began as a small community founded by a farmer named Midoriya. He gathered all the other farmers that he knew to join him and help each other manage their farms. Under his rule, they flourished— what was a quaint little community now transformed into a bustling town. He then passed on the position to his only son, who also made their town thrive. The farmer's son would then pass it on to his own son, and so on and so forth.

As time passed, it continued to grow and grow and grow; from a community to a humble village to a boisterous city, and eventually, a kingdom was born. With the birth of a new kingdom was the establishment of a dynasty, and no one opposed the reign of the Midoriya family.

Like his predecessors, King Hisashi was just and kind. With his fair wife, Queen Inko, and his beloved son, Prince Izuku, the kingdom had many prosperous years during their reign— everyone was happy and content. It was why the people loved them dearly.

And it is also why they were utterly devastated when the king went missing.

One day, he just left and never came back. He abandoned his kingdom and his family to rot along with them. The queen and the prince grieved, and the people felt betrayed. The kingdom would have been in shambles without a leader. However, not all hope was lost. Because although the king has abdicated the throne, Queen Inko took a stand and became the new ruler. She picked up her husband's slack and lead the people as if the king never left.

Prince Izuku, who was expected to be lonely and bitter and loathing towards his father, was fairly unaffected by his absence. He moved on from his grief and remained a happy child. This was only thanks to his mother's guidance and the presence of his dearest friend, Kacchan.

Kacchan, as affectionaly named by Izuku, was the only son of Queen Inko's friend; the Duchess Bakugou Mitsuki. He was a precocious little thing who was both endearing and annoying. The duchess's young son was raised to be humble, but the commoners regarded him on a pedestal. He grew arrogant and developed a nasty case of inferiority superiority complex.

For all his arrogance, however, Kacchan was a figure of power and charisma— the picture of victory. It was why the other children followed his lead, and why Izuku admired him.

Both of them bonded over succeeding their parents and their dream of becoming a great knight like All Might. All Might was a legendary knight hailed for his numerous deeds. Despite his unknown identity, the people looked up to him. He was what every child aspired to be; a hero.

In a world of superhumans, Quirks were highly valued by society and knighthood was no different. Protecting the kingdom and the people would involve dangers of varying degrees. It was why the greater Quirk that a person possessed, the greater their chances of becoming a knight.

Izuku wanted to be a competent king who could not only rule, but also protect.

However, fate was unkind; he was rejected before he could even make something out of himself.

While children his age were discovering and developing their Quirks, Izuku has not shown any signs of having one. Out of worry for her child, Inko brought Izuku to the royal doctor.

"It's best you give up," The healer announced, pointing at a diagram of the bone structure of Izuku's foot. "The young prince is turning five soon and has yet to show any indication of his ability. He may not have an extra joint, but I concur that it's too late for him to develop anything at this point."

He was proclaimed Quirkless— a one-way ticket to becoming a social pariah. Many people viewed quirklessness as an undesirable mutation, and being the royal prince did not make him immune to their criticisms. Izuku, at the tender age of four, already knew that. But as long as he had his mother and Kacchan, he can take anything.

"You're a quirkless loser," Kacchan declared the next day. "Who'd wanna hang out with a weak Deku like you?"

He heard something shatter.

Maybe it was the glass he dropped. Maybe it was the bone in his arm after the bullies stomped on it.

Maybe it was his tender heart left broken in pieces due to Kacchan's heartless words.

Inko, witnessing his descent from a bright young boy to a melancholic child, knew she had to do something to cheer him up. The queen decided that if her child would not have any inherent ability, she would teach him magic. But she would not settle down with just any spellbook; she wanted only the best for her son, after all.

The queen gathered her most trusted warriors, saddled her loyal steed, and departed in search of a tome said to contain powerful spells (That would be 1500¥, ma'am," The clerk said.). She and her entourage was successful and thus, she returned from her journey giving the tome to Izuku.

"This is a tome filled to the brim with a wide array of spells. It takes a lot of responsibility to handle it," Inko spoke gently to her son as he hung on to her every word. "Perhaps you can't be a knight like All Might, but I know you can be something else just as great."

The young boy held onto the tome like a lifeline. He then hugged his mother tightly and thanked her profusely. "You're the best mom ever."

"I'm you're only mom," She joked.

Since then, Izuku spent his days reading the tome and memorizing every page to the last detail. He didn't want to waste the opportunity given to him by his mother. He quickly learns that it was not just a mere spellbook— it was also an autobiography detailing rituals involved in summoning spirits and monsters.

It was penned by a gifted sorcerer in the days of yore. They spoke of their travels through various places across the land. The boy was instantly fascinated by their tales. In fact, he had been so enraptured by them that he decided to try the casting spells on his own.

Though he may not have a talent for spellwork, Izuku discovered that he had a penchant for summoning. On his first try, he was able to call upon a tiny wind spirit called Sylph. He was spellbound by the mesmerizing beauty of the fairy that his mother caught him practicing magic without supervision. It was how she came to know his newfound skill.

His mother forbade him from summoning greater spirits for his body may not handle the strain. This doesn't deter him from trying time and time again. He didn't want to stay a powerless Deku any longer.

One tale in particular caught the prince's eye. The sorcerer claimed to have called upon the Dragon King, whom they tried to form a contract with. However, the dragon rejected them and sent them away with a large burst of its flames.

Izuku immediately knew that this was the summon meant for him.

Without telling anyone, he sets off to prepare the ritual to summon the Dragon King. Izuku went to the forest for his next deed. The young prince looked around to check if anyone followed him. Satisfied that he got away undetected, he then began the ritual.

"O ancient wyrm, ruler of the sky... hear my plea," He chanted while his body glowed with raw magic. There wasn't really any guarantee that it would work since the sorcerer noted there weren't any specific words to summon it, only that he had to mention its name; but this was the king of the dragons. If he wanted a pact, he had to treat a summoned being with respect.

"I, Midoriya Izuku, calls upon thee, Bahamut!"

A large magic circle appeared in the sky. The clouds darkened and strong bouts of wind enveloped the area. Izuku felt like he was going to be blown away. He dug his feet onto the soil, held onto a tree, and held his ground.

Suddenly, there was a crash above him, followed by another, and another— trees were knocked down with loud crashes. Branches, not just a few, but pretty much all of them fell as a pitch-black shape blocked his entire view above.

He then felt something poke his back. Izuku turned around, only to see enormous reptilian eyes looking back at him. The dragon's snout was forefront, with his equally large maw ablaze with flickers of fire.

"I didn't think it would actually work.”

According to Izuku, his ability is...

Quirk: Evocation of the Thousand Sacred Guardian Spirits (Official name is Imaginary Friend)

Description: The power to call upon the beings of the universe that exist beyond human comprehension (The power to create creatures and beings out of one’s imagination)

In other words, his ability is imaginary entity creation. It’s like Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends; Izuku imagines a creature and it comes to life.

Details:

Belief-Dependent Physiology: Needs to believe they’re real so they can exist. (Good thing Izuku is a chuunibyou.)

Can create and delete imaginary entities at will. The stronger, the bigger, and more in amount he creates, the greater the energy spent.

Has a time limit on manifesting an entity. The time limit is inversely proportional to the power, size, and complexity of the imagined entity. His current time limit for Bahamut is 1 minute.

Can give limited independence to an entity. (The entity can’t decide for itself. Rather, it acts upon Izuku’s will. How it interprets his command is where the “independence” comes in, and it also depends on what personality Izuku imagined it to have.)

Since this is technically a mental power, if he overuses his quirk, Izuku will risk not just body, but also mental fatigue. He will also suffer from headaches, nausea, and in severe cases, a nosebleed.

If you haven’t noticed, Izuku doesn’t stick to one chant. This is because he technically doesn’t need it, but due to belief-dependent physiology, he has to do it because chanting enforces his belief that he’s genuine summoning something that exists.

How the heck did Izuku become a chuunibyou? And what did you mean by “he didn’t let it get to his head like Kacchan”? Chuunis are arrogant!

Izuku becomes a chuunibyou because he was already slightly delusional in the first place. The last part of the fic was from his POV. Izuku viewed the world like a fairy tale as a child, hence the title. And because he gets a quirk fueled by imagination, his delusions just get worse. Not to mention that his great-grandmother egged him on.

The definition of chuunibyou is “a person which manifests delusional behavior, particularly thinking that one has special powers that no other person has”. They don’t have to be arrogant or think they’re above everyone else; just that they have a special power. You could say that the arrogance is a by-product of the chuuni mentality.

In this case, Izuku doesn’t get the arrogance.

Why did you even think of this in the first place?

Because I always thought Izuku would grow up different if he had a quirk in the first place, I wondered what would happen if he had an overreacting imagination stemming from his childhood days; and what happens if he gets a quirk that makes this problem worse. Thus, Chuunibyou Izuku was born.

I guess you can say that he is truly a madman in every sense of the word.

I’ll show myself out now.

#i just like the idea of chuuni izuku #fanfic: fairy tale #fanfiction #boku no hero academia #midoriya izuku #chuunibyou madman #kitburner writes

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bright-molina · 8 years ago

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In Astra (Part One)

Summary: Written for Stark Tower’s 3k Celebration Movie AU Challenge If there was one thing that meant the most to you it was family. You had never had one before you were turned. So one you finally had one you cared for them with everything you had. You would do anything to keep them safe, including befriending the one person you hated most.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, and almost all the other Avengers along with The Cullen family and a couple other characters from Twilight

Warnings: small mention of dying at the beginning and a little angst but otherwise none

Word Count: 1720

A/N: So this is the start of my second entry. I had an idea and I couldn’t let it go to waste so here this is. For anyone who’s wondering In Astra is the latin translation of ‘written in the stars’. It’ll all make sense in the end. Let me know if you guys wanna be tagged! (also the gif isn’t mine btw)

Tags: @hunters-from-stark-tower

When people thought of the 1920’s they thought of the extravagant parties and lavish party goers. They thought of scenes depicted in the Great Gatsby of celebrations carrying on into the night. They thought of flappers and dancing and jazz music. That wasn’t what you thought about. Well, not all the time. You had been alone most, if not all, of your human life. On the summer night that brought you your demise you had only one thought as you felt the life draining from you. You thought about how no one would be around to care whether or not you were gone. A man who happened to be walking by was the one to prove you wrong. You awoke days later to a burning thirst in your throat. Carlisle Cullen was at your side in seconds with a worried expression on his face. You didn’t understand why it was that he seemed to care so much but you didn’t question it. When you tried to argue that you weren’t worth the risk he was quick to disagree. “Everyone is worth it,” He had told you. Those words had stuck with you every day since. You met Edward and Esme a short while after and soon enough had a family for the very first time. Your family grew over the decades and it was safe to say that they meant more to you than anything. That was where the dilemma now came.

Edward and Bella had gone off and conceived a child, a little girl now known in the world as Renesmee. Things had gotten complicated for all of you after a simple misunderstanding. You sighed to yourself as you glanced outside the window. A small tug on your shirt tore your attention away from where you were watching snowflakes settle on the ground while focusing on the voices a level below you telling Bella about the history of immortal children. You turned to see Renesmee standing right behind you.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Her soft voice rang through the silence like a song. You found yourself smiling a gentle smile as you pulled her to you in a comforting hug.

“Of course we will, sweetheart,” You assured her. You led her back to the bed in your room and hummed a lullaby, listening for her heartbeat to slow down until it fell into rest. No harm would come to your family if you could help it. These people were special to you and you’d be damned if anyone took that away.

“How long will you all be gone?” You voiced your thoughts as you watched everyone wander around the house packing for their various endeavors. You, Jasper, and Alice were to stay at the house while everyone else was away.

“A few days at most. Hopefully” Carlisle answered you. He stopped packing and turned to look at you. “I actually have someone I think you could convince better than any of the rest of us”

You knew who he was talking about almost immediately. “Carlisle I can’t do that. Send me anywhere but to them. Please,”

“Y/N we need them. You know just how powerful they are. Rumor has it they’ve even gained a few people in the last couple of decades. And if anyone here can convince them it’s you, given your history”

You knew that there was no amount of arguing you could do that would change his mind. You also knew that he was right. You had a feeling that the Volturi wouldn’t listen and if it came down to a fight they would be your best bet to saving Renesmee. No matter how badly you didn’t want to you knew it was a must.

“Where?” You finally sighed.

“New York last time I heard. And we both know that they aren't ones for change”

With one last roll of your eyes you disappeared into the house and packed a small bag full of things you’d need. Just as you had finished you sensed someone else on the property. And you had a feeling you knew what it was about.

You flipped through a magazine that had been laying on the counter as if you were in your own home. Your left hand waved nonchalantly in a circle motion, spinning the metal spoon in the mug a couple inches away from you. You had gained a variety of abilities when you were turned, telekinesis being one of them. You told yourself you were waiting for the right time when in reality you were avoiding confrontation. The sound of a key turning in the lock told you you no longer had a choice. A dark haired man, one who you recognized instantly, walked in and it took him a few seconds to process the fact that you were there.

“Whose are you?” He asked simply. You were taken aback by the question.

“Excuse me?” You said in a tone that was more demanding than anything.

“Who'd you spend the night with. Thor? Barton? I bet it was Barnes, you look like his type”

You rolled your eyes at the comment and did your best to keep your powers at bay. You just hoped you wouldn’t have to explain the scorch marks in the freezer or the frost that was forming under your feet everywhere you stepped. Within a few seconds a dozen people were surrounding you, having heard Tony’s comment.

“Jarvis didn't detect a problem so you're obviously one of us,” he said. You glanced around at all of them, the look in your eyes daring them to make a move. A smirk grew on your face when you realized they didn’t recognize you.

“You’d think at least one of you would remember me after what we went through” You let your powers fade away and they revealed your natural hair color instead of the lavender shade you had been using. Your eyes melted from the electric blue you liked to use to the golden color that came with hunting animals. Tony’s loud laugh rang through the room while most of the other people relaxed.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Y/N,” He waltzed up to you and threw an arm around your shoulders. “Last time we saw you was the year 1944. You had given up on us for certain reason, some of which I admit were justified, and returned to dear ol’ Carlisle. How is he by the way?”

“Good to know you agree with my reasons” You mumbled to yourself. Everyone heard you nonetheless. Your eyes caught the movement of Steve Rogers wincing at the harshness hidden behind your words. He remembered the events of that night as clear as day. “That’s not important. I have a favor to ask of all of you”

“No time to catch up?” Clint was the one to walk up and hug you in greeting. He always had been one of your favorites.

“Catching up is going to have to wait” You walked back over to your coffee and took a long drink. “Oh, and really Tony? Playboy?”

“Hey, it’s a classic” He argued. You rolled your eyes and set the mug down.

“I do believe introductions are in order before I begin,” You ignored Tony and aimed your statement towards Steve who nodded from where he was standing a few feet away from you.

“You remember almost everyone, I assume. Tony, Clint, Nat, Thor, Bruce. Sam joined us a couple years after you left. We found Pietro and Wanda in the 60’s while we were relocating. Scott and Peter are our newest. And Bucky is-”

“Out again. No difference there” Tony cut him off. The sharp tone in his voice went unnoticed by you. You had been one of the few people Tony trusted and things had been tense between Steve, Bucky, and himself for a while after you left. You simply nodded, not paying attention to Steve and Tony’s silent conversation, before helping yourself to a seat on one of the barstools.

“We need you all to come to Forks” You cut straight to the point. No one responded for a few seconds. Everyone looked towards Steve, who had a confused expression on his face.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning, yeah?” Was the only thing Steve answered with.

You knew you couldn’t argue with Steve and so you did as he said. You explained to them about Edward and Bella and their situation with Renesmee. You even told them about Jacob and the pack and the imprinting. You finished with Alice’s vision and what you had all spoken of the night before.

“I’m not asking you to stand against the Volturi. If we have to fight you are more than welcome to leave,” You glanced towards Wanda and Peter particularly. You could feel the strength of their powers and were almost sure that Aro had no clue they existed. If he did there was no way they would be in the house, he’d have taken them for his own use by now or killed them while trying. “I just need you to give us a chance. My family is in danger and I’m here asking for help. Please?”

You rarely ever said that word. Please. In your mind it was begging, a sign of weakness. And you refused to be weak. That’s how your old friends knew how serious you were.

“Wow,” A new voice spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that word”

Suddenly in an instant memories came rushing back to you. It had been over seventy years since you had heard his voice. Seventy years you had been preparing yourself. Swearing to whatever beings were out there that you wouldn’t let him get to you ever again. And yet there you were. All that time and he still affected you just as he had back then. The air in the room grew colder and you knew it wouldn’t take much else for you to lose control of your powers. It took all you had to turn around and face him. You did so slowly and finally you saw him. The mate you never wanted and vice versa. The one who you deserted in the middle of the night. The one by the name of Bucky Barnes.

#stark tower's movie challenge #marvel au #Twilight #Breaking Dawn #writing challenge #reader insert #au!marvel #marvel #In Astra #things I write

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greenguy57 · 5 years ago

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Someone asked me a 150 question ask list.

Here’s Part 1, time for Part 2! (Long post warning btw)

47) Ever been high?

Nope, no intentions of doing so either.

48) Ever been drunk?

Nope, same as 47!

49) Have I done anything recently that I hope no one finds out?

Kinda? All the people that need to know, do, and that’s all I’ll say! 😜 (And no this wasn’t anything criminal or illegal)

50) What was the color of the last hoodie I wore?

Green, big surprise! 😂

51) Do I ever wish I was someone else?

Not really! I’ve been lucky enough to have a solid life.

52) One thing I wish I could change about myself?

It’s gonna sound stupid but if I could have super powers I would do that. I’m lucky that I’m happy with myself and I’m very grateful that I’m at this point! ☺️

53) Favorite makeup brand?

I don’t have one!

54) Favorite store?

I don’t really have one of these either. I have a lot of favorite restaurants and chill spots but nothing store-wise.

55) Favorite blog?

My boi mimikyutie-chan! She’s always supplying me with some solid memes and quality posts!

56) Favorite color?

🤔

57) Favorite food?

Homemade chicken noddle soup 🙏, also traditional ramen and my brothers, girlfriends, mothers banana pudding! 👌👌

58) Last thing I ate?

Turkey sandwich on Italian white bread with cheddar cheese and mayo! 🥪

59) First thing I ate this morning?

Reheated leftover chicken and waffles!

60) Ever one a competition, if so, for what?

I’ve never won an official competition, I’ve probably one some small ones in the past, but I can’t really recall.

61) Ever been suspended or expelled,if so, for what?

I have not!

62) Ever been arrested, if so, for what?

Nope, I am an innocent man!

63) Ever been in love?

Yes, and currently still am! 💙

64) What’s the story of my first kiss?

Alright. So I went over to my friends house with my first girlfriend after taking her to homecoming in high school. Her parents came to pick her up and before she left I kissed her in front of the door. Then she left and I get picked up soon after!

65) Am I hungry right now?

Nope, just ate that sandwich from that earlier question! 👍

66) Do I like my Tumblr friends more then my real friends?

Most all of the friends I have on Tumblr I’m friends with irl.

67) Facebook or Twitter?

Facebook, I don’t really use Twitter.

68) Twitter or Tumblr?

Tumblr, for the same reason above.

69) Am I watching TV rn?

Nope, I’m listening to Super Mega as I answer this! 😂

70) Names of my best friends?

Tess, Nick, Adam, Kayla, Cam, Ruth, Callie, Kate, Matt!

71) Am I craving something, if so, what?

Not really craving anything right now, I’d be down for a pay check from work and a good lay though! ✌️

72) What are my towel colors and how many pillows do I sleep with?

My towels at school are just white, at home they’re all sorts. As for the amount of pillows, I usually sleep with 3.

73) Sleep with any stuffed animals?

I do not, but I sleep with a small blanket and use it as a head pillow.

74) How many stuffed animals do I think I own?

I have a ton in storage from when I was a kid, but I do have a few stuffed Kirby’s that I have around my room!

75) Favorite animal?

Great Danes, though I’m also a big fan of sharks and the Pistol Shrimp! 🦐

76) What color is my underwear?

Black, Gray, and varying shades of blue. Currently wearing blue! 😉

77) Chocolate or Vanilla?

Chocolate!

78) Favorite ice cream flavor?

Chocolate Fudge Brownie... 🙏

79) Color shirt I’m wearing rn?

🤔 (I wear green shirts every day)

80) What color pants am I wearing rn?

Light Gray shorts!

81) Favorite TV show?

Avatar: the Last Airbender. 🙏

82) Favorite movie?

Right now, it’d be Avengers: Endgame. Such a great film! 👍👍👍

83) Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?

I’ve only seen Mean Girls so the OG gets my vote.

84) Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?

Mean Girls is definitely more iconic and funny imo so gonna say Mean Girls wins yet again.

85) Favorite Character from Mean Girls?

This list really likes Mean Girls huh, I guess the main character cause I don’t really remember any of their names! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

86) Favorite character from Nemo?

Um, the stoner sea turtle, Crush was his name I’m pretty sure.

87) First person I talked to today?

My girlfriend. (Wonder how many time’s this will be the answer 😝)

88) Last person I talked to today?

My brother.

89) Name a person I hate?

I honestly don’t hate anyone specifically, but I guess I’ll just blanket statement say I hate people how are outspokenly hateful and ignorant? Also rapists, pedos, nazis, all the freebies.

90) Name a person I love?

My girlfriend! Also my family and the best friend I named earlier! 💙

91) Is there anyone I’d like to punch in the face rn?

Not particularly.

92) In a fight with someone?

I am not, no. I’m not one to stay in an argument or fight for a long time.

93) How many pairs of sweatpants do I have?

Just the one, and they’re very comfy! 🤙

94) How many sweaters/hoodies do I have?

Just one hoodie and I have one v-neck sweater.

95) Last movie I watched?

Sherlock Holmes! The one with RDJ and Jude Law. 👍

96) Favorite actress?

Big fan of Dichen Lachmen and all she’s been in!

97) Favorite actor?

Can’t honestly think of one! Though my favorite voice actor is Nolan North, love his voice work!

98) Do I tan a lot?

I don’t. I’m pretty pale and I can’t really tan.

99) Do I have any pets?

I do, he’s a big dumb Great Dane named Neo!

100!) How am I feeling?

Feeling pretty good! Having a good time answering all these questions for any follower to see! 😁

101) Do I type fast?

Not really! 😅 I also still have to look at the keyboard when I type.

102) Do I regret anything from my past?

No I don’t. I have a life mantra I live by where even if I’m not proud of things I’ve done in the past, I try to learn from it and not regret the experience. Regretting things doesn’t help better your life so why do it?

103) Can I spell well?

W E L L, as for the quality of my spelling, I can spell alright but I tend to cut corners when typing since auto-correct is so common.

104) Do I miss someone from my past?

I mean, yeah I suppose. But like I said before, I don’t really dwell on it!

105) Ever been to a bonfire party?

I’ve been to many, my friends and I often did bonfire nights over the summer.

106) Ever broken someone’s heart?

I sure have, and it suuuuuucked. But sometimes it be like that and gotta move past it. And the faster you rip that band-aid, the faster both parties can move on and get to a better place!

107) Have I ever been on a horse?

I have not, no.

108) What should I be doing?

Checking the dryer to see if the towels are done, so I’ll actually do that rn. **

109) Is something irritating me rn?

The towels still aren’t dry, so that’s kind of annoying. 🙄

110) Have I ever liked someone so much that it hurt?

I few times in my life, I’d so yeah.

111) Do I have trust issues?

Not really, I feel like I answered this in part 1, but I generally trust everyone unless given a reason not too.

112) The last person I cried in front of?

I think my girlfriend? Though it may have been one of my friends though.

113) What was your childhood nickname?

Never had a childhood nickname, having a short name like Seth doesn’t give kids much material.

114) Ever been out of my province/state?

Yes! I’ve been out of my state plenty of times, but only out of the country once.

115) Do you play the Wii?

Not recently, I do own a Wii and played it a lot. I also got a Wii U with all the 3 games it has.

116) Am I listening to music rn?

Nope!

117) Do I like chicken noodle soup?

I don’t, I looove chicken noodle soup!!

118) Do I like Chinese food?

Yes, my favorite of chinese food is probably orange chicken, fried rice, and egg drop soup!

119) Favorite book?

Not much of a reader, I do read comics though! My favorite comic book is The Amazing Spider-Man: Issue 800. It’s such a great issue!

120) Am I afraid of the dark?

Not really. I get a bit tense walking in city streets at night, but I’m not really scared of the dark.

121) Am I mean?

No! 😂 Being mean isn’t fun and I always apologies if I make a mean joke.

122) Is cheating ever okay?

Nope, it’s not cool and no one should ever do it no matter what.

123) Can I keep white shoes clean?

Shoes are meant to get walked on so they’re going to get dirty if you actually wear them no matter what. This is definitely the weirdest question to be so far.

124) Do I believe in love at first sight?

No I do not. Infatuation at first sight exists, sure, but I don’t think you can fully fall in love with someone without getting to know them at least a little bit first.

125) Do I believe in true love?

Yes I do. True love definitely exists imo!

126) Am I currently bored?

Not really! Typing these answers are keeping me occupied!

127) What makes me happy?

Hanging out with good friends, playing games, good food, great sex, and sleep. I am a man of simple needs! 😂

128) Would I change my name?

Maybe my middle name, but I’m a fan of my first and last name so I’d like to keep both.

129) What’s my zodiac sign?

Pisces. 🐟🐟

130) Do I like Subway?

It’s pretty good!

131) My best friend of the opposite says that she likes me, what do I do?

Continue to date her! 😜

132) Who’s the last person I’ve had a deep conversation with?

I’m pretty sure I’ve answered this question, but I’m pretty sure it was either my girlfriend or the friend that drove me to my last exam!

133) Favorite lyrics rn?

I got nothing for this. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

134) Can I count to one million.

I could, I don’t know why I’d ever do that. Never been that bored!

135) Dumbest lie I’ve ever told?

Must’ve been so dumb that I didn’t remember it. I also don’t lie often so there’s that.

136) Do I sleep with my doors open or closed?

Closed! I don’t like sleeping with my doors open, that’s just weird.

137) How tall am I?

5′ 7″

138) Curly or straight hair?

I don’t really have a preference, but curly hair can be pretty cute on people!

139) Brunette or blonde?

You know, I used to think I had a thing for brunettes, but I’ve been with about the same amount of blondes so I guess I have no preference here either.

140) Summer or winter?

Summer for sure! I prefer heat over cold.

141) Night or Day?

Night I guess? I stay up late playing games so that’s my pick.

142) Favorite month?

I guess July? That’s when my anniversary is and it’s mid summer so it’s prime vacation time!

143) Am I vegetarian?

Not in the slightest, love me some meat! 😋

144) Dark, milk, or white chocolate?

Milk chocolate, though dark chocolate is a close second!

145) Tea or Coffee?

Tea, 100%. With lots of sugar too.

146) Was today a good day?

Today was alright, spend most of it sleeping and mowing the lawn, I did enjoy answering all of these though!

147) Mars or Snickers?

Snickers I guess? I haven’t eaten a mars bar before.

148) What’s my favorite quote?

“Life is a lot like this tunnel, you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you keep moving, you are sure to find yourself in a better place!” - Iroh

149) Do I believe in ghosts?

Not at all. Never seen solid enough proof for me to believe in them.

150) Find the closest book to me, turn to page 42, what does the first line say?

“After the tests were done, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon...”

And that’s all the questions! Thanks to whoever asked literally all of them and I hope this shows that I mean business when I reblog ask lists! 😂

#answered #long post #part 2

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ao3-hipster-fangirl-trash · 7 years ago

Text

For Pity VIII

Chapter 1 l Chapter 2 l Chapter 3 l Chapter 4 l Chapter 5 l Chapter 6 l Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10 I Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13

Overall Summary: Sigyn, queen of Vanaheim, is gifted a consort by the Allfather of Asgard, unknown to her, said consort happens to be his adopted son; Loki, and the only reason he was ‘gifted’ was that he should be someone elses’ problem.

Chapter Summary: The council of lords and ladies are pressuring Sigyn to heed the words of Odin when he first 'gifted' his son to her in a sense, and wish for him to be more than a pampered houseguest. And whilst Sigyn finds herself disgusted by the blatant objectification of her friend, she does become curious as to how he would react, when faced with the question she wished, only for the sake of satisfying her need to know, to ask.

Word count: 1644

Note: Inspired by @nanihoosartblog and her awesome loki x sigyn consort AU! go and check it out!

btw if you want more frequent updates for this story here’s my ao3 account: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superwholocked_wizard

Warnings: slight embarrassment?

Her lords and ladies truly did enjoy backing Sigyn into a corner, and considering she was their sovereign it was odd how well they managed to twist her will, trying their best to make her see a point of view which was completely beyond her horizons and completely out of the question. Of course, this certain opinion had to do with a certain someone who had shared her bed, in a non sexual fashion of course, a few days prior.

“He does nothing!” Lord Balimire had exclaimed several times, earning nods from many others around the table.

“He’s a friend!”

“He was gifted to be a consort!”

Sigyn fumed through the whole session, becoming more and more tempted to focus on the Lords head just a little more and hope it would blow right up, and the thing is, she knew she could do it, many apples and watermelons and tellings off from her mother had proven so, and yet she couldn’t find the energy to. The way they spoke of Loki was as if he were a mutt which had been gifted for the purpose to be a hunting dog, making him even less of an Aesir and more of an animal than anything else.

By the end of the session, she was ready to grab her sword and have a few rounds, preferably with the very people sitting in this room. Their entire argument was based off the fact that he had been ‘gifted’ and Sigyn countered that a person could do with a gift what they wished. It made her feel disgusted to refer to him as such however it was the only way to make the people in the council understand. Eventually she simply refused. She was the sovereign and could do as she pleased, no matter what her council said.

Whilst walking back to her room, Sigyn took great pleasure in thinking exactly how she would execute Lord Balimire in the most painful fashion possible. Perhaps being hung drawn and quartered, or perhaps simply hung so she could watch him flail like a hung fish. Such thoughts were common when leaving a meeting.

Without even realising it, she made the turn away from her room towards Loki’s quarters, her footsteps echoing around the halls of the palace, bouncing off the walls with every enraged stride she took on the way to his chambers. In fact, she wasn’t even completely aware of where she was going until she had knocked firmly on his door and taken a step back, causing the reality of the situation to dawn on her.

Before she could have a chance to back away, the door opened to reveal Loki, wearing a particularly lovely green dress that seemed vaguely familiar, perhaps it was because it was because she leant it to him after he seemed to have been drawn to it when she was wearing it. Gods know why Amora chose that particular dress for her to wear, it wasn’t even her favourite shade of green and she knew it.

He gave her a little smile and gestured inside, allowing her through. She walked in slowly, trying to compose her thoughts slightly, before sitting down on one of the chairs near Loki’s fireplace, another was to the right of her, but was separated with a small table with a cupboard in it, containing Loki’s favourite books.

He sat down next to her, turning to face Sigyn, ready to start whatever debate or conversation she wished to initiate today.

She was sat pensively, her hands resting below her chin, her entire body thrown into thought as if some sort of a disturbing revelation had been made to her within the past few hours.

She found herself sighing and sitting back up, looking over at Loki who was casually leaning on his elbow, not quite looking at her and waiting for her to properly initiate the conversation. After all, it was the polite thing to do, she was the queen.

She was trying so hard to think of a way to phrase it well, to make sure he didn’t hate her for even suggesting it, perhaps even avoid the conversation before it began, tell the lords and ladies he said ‘no’ without even asking.

And yet, she found herself curious, wondering what his answer may have been should she ask the question, and there was only one way to properly know exactly what he would have answered, and unfortunately that was to ask.

“I have something to ask you.” He turned to look back at her, suddenly apprehensive of the question.

“Before I ask it, you are perfectly allowed to say no, I would think no ill of you and would still allow you to remain as long as you wish here.” She could see him begin to tense up, fear taking over his body and yet he tried to remain impassive. Gods she already hated herself for even thinking this was a good idea to ask.

“You know what, never mind.” She turned and faced forwards, completely trying to destroy the conversation before he began to question.

But unfortunately, whatever ‘this conversation has ended’ face Sigyn wore, it clearly wasn’t good enough.

“Clearly you still mind.” He was leaning towards her, slightly less tense than before, still holding his hand on his chin and his elbow on his chair, clearly interested and curious now.

Sigyn tried to shake her head, but found herself somewhat frozen in place and unable to force herself to move.

“I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do anything.”

Whatever she was going to say, it could go one of either ways and truthfully, Loki wasn’t entirely sure which one he understood more. She could see him leaning slightly more forwards. Damn he was invested in the situation now.

“The council,” She sighed again, and sat up straighter, “Please understand I didn’t exactly share their opinions,” yet again another pause, “They want you to ‘fulfil your purpose’ as they put it.” It sounded as if those words made her feel physically ill.

“My, purpose?” He took a moment to reflect, his mind racing a million miles an hour and trying to make sense, because that truly wasn’t one of the ways he thought the conversation would go. He thought through every single moment which could possibly be tied with such things. He thought of falling asleep in Sigyn’s bed just a few nights ago, about how she had been able to calm him instantly when they first properly met. He thought of when Odin brought him, kicking and vaguely screaming, and that word he used.

“Well, I don’t really have a purpose except what Odin…” Understanding flooded his featured.

“Oh.”

Sigyn couldn’t look at him, she didn’t want to see any hint of betrayal or fear, or even disgust. She felt herself almost hunch over, and yet she remained straight as ever, awaiting his verdict, his shouting, his anger, or even perhaps a simple ‘no’ and a ruined friendship.

Loki was mulling it over, grateful for the silence which seemed to have consumed the woman to his left. Trying to think as quickly as possible, he tried weighing the pro’s and con’s of being a consort.

On the plus side, it meant a permanent, high ranking place in the household, a nice bed, being treated better than ever and overall an improved living condition, as well as being allowed more time with Sigyn (which he found he was coming to enjoy more and more everyday). On the downside… well apart from the eventual pressure of producing an heir which would probably happen in a thousand years or so, all he had to truly do is attend Gala’s and Balls, and look pretty on the sovereigns arm. Overall, the offer didn’t completely repulse him and he found himself considering it very heavily.

“Alright.” Sigyn twisted to face him in surprised, completely astounded that he even considered the offer in the first place much less accepted it in the time he was given.

“Alright?” She questioned, not understanding what in Hel had just happened.

“Alright.” He replied, seeming somehow just as confused with his own answer as she was.

“Oh, alright then.” They both sat in silence, completely hyperaware of one another. Sigyn was trying to understand how on earth this had happened and wondering what would life be like if she had simply bitten her tongue rather than start the conversation. Loki was finally understanding the implications of simply the word ‘alright’ and how much his life was about to be impacted by a simple, two syllable statement. Still, none were physically able to commence a conversation in any way.

“So, what exactly does this mean?” Loki asked, curious about the entire situation.

Sigyn turned to look at him once more, still astounded by his casual acceptance of the entire situation. Then again, how bad could being a queens consort in comparison to beaten and bruised in your own dungeon.

“Well, essentially you’re my… friend? If you want to be that is, and eventually, maybe help produce an… heir.” From the way she said it, it sounded all rather hypothetical, and yet somehow Loki got the general gist of it, and for some reason, inexplicable as it was, he found himself smiling like a fool.

“So I’m essentially your betrothed? Or husband or something along those lines?” Sigyn took in a sharp breath, almost apprehensive of his answer, though she had no reason to be, he had already accepted.

“Yes, I suppose so.” She was blushing for some reason, her cheeks lighting up more so than her hair would do in summers light.

“Alright then wife.” He replied cheekily.

Sigyn found herself finally able to relax somewhat, flopping back in her chair. She gave a tired laugh.

“Alright then, husband.”

“Alright then Wifey, give us a kiss.”

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furilia · 7 years ago

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Strange letters from my father

New Post has been published on https://www.furilia.com/strange-letters-from-my-father/

Strange letters from my father

I never do paid posts but I’m doing this one for two reasons. 1) Because I was already going to write about this. Stick with it and you’ll see why in a second, and 2) because the 8th Annual Jame Garfield Miracle is going on and I needed more money to help kids in need and this was a super easy way to do it. So if you’re reading this, you are helping needy children. EVERYONE WINS.

So, StoryWorth advertised on my blog this year and I loved it so much I paid full price to buy one for my dad. Here’s how it works: StoryWorth emails your family member weekly story prompts in the form of questions. They reply to the emails and you get to read their amazing family stories that you never knew existed. Then at the end of the year StoryWorth binds the years worth of stories into a keepsake book. My dad has been doing it for about six months and the emails I get with his answers are so insane and lovely that I often have to call and ask, “Is that true?” Stories about my grandparents and great grandparents that I may never have known are now being shared with family. It is awesome and I highly recommend it because it’s a gift for you and for them. It’s normally $79 but right now (until 1/31/18) it’s only $59 through this link.

The stories my father shares are really too good to keep to myself so I’m sharing a few snippets of my favorites here. You may think they’re strange and terrible but I love and treasure them. I suppose that’s how family stories work though. (BTW, Nelda is my mom. She types the answers as my dad dictates.)

Have you pulled any great pranks?

I was prying something loose one day, and I broke off half the blade of my skinning knife. Stupid! Now the six-inch blade was only three inches long. It was now perfect for prying things loose, but it was also perfect for a practical joke.

We have an electric knife sharpener at the taxidermy shop, and I don’t allow anyone to use it except me. If you’re not paying 100% attention to what you are doing, the high-speed sharpening wheel can throw the blade back at you. Bad news.

I went to my own working area where I hide from the other workers and went to work on my joke. I super glued the tip of my broken knife blade to the inside of my inner right arm. Next I built up the wound area with 2-part epoxy. It’s a product we use in the taxidermy shop like modeling clay to make artificial skin on a mount. I smoothed out the epoxy, texturized it to make it look like my own skin and modeled it to look like that knife is really embedded deep in my arm. I used an airbrush to paint the epoxy area to match my skin. Next I feathered in some white, purple,and red paint to make a realistic cut. Finally I mixed up some blood- red and black paint. I added a little glycerin to give the fake blood a wet glossy look. I poured the blood where it needed to be, and splashed the rest on an old rag that I used to cover the gag.

I staggered into the shop and sat down, not saying a word.

Don was the first to notice the blood. “Holy Crap! What did you do?” Helen came out the office, and I removed the blood-soaked rag to show my work of art. Everyone gathered around me to either gawk or help. Helen hollered out, “Don’t put it out. He’s on blood thinners! He”ll bleed to death!”

No sooner did she say that, Jonathon grabbed the knife and pulled it out. I quickly covered the wound with the bloody rag. I figured the joke was over till Jonathon looked at the knife and screamed, “It broke off in his arm!”

I didn’t get any compliments for my realistic art work. I cleaned up my mess and came back in the shop. I sat down next to Jonathon and asked him if it looked real. He said. “Yeah, I thought it was real……..What are blood thinners?”

What have you changed your mind about over the years?

I use to think that dogs are a man’s best friend, but I’ve changed my mind. Dogs will always forgive you quickly if you ask them to, but they don’t do laundry, they don’t cook, they don’t scratch your back, and they don’t clean house. They are pretty good at doing dishes, as long as you smear left-over gravy over the whole plate.

I use to think that a loving wife would see the humor in that previous paragraph. Dogs will still always forgive you quickly if you ask them to.

I use to think this was funny.

If you could choose any talents to have, what would they be?

I asked Nelda what this question meant. Any talent? She suggested singing, or playing an instrument , or maybe x-ray vision. X-Ray vision might be cool only if it is selective. Some old fat guy crossing your path of vision could ruin your day. A cute young chick could also ruin my marriage. I’ll stick with my near- sighted astigmatism with floaters.

I already sing beautifully. I have that talent even though no one else thinks so. My ears are so good that in my head the notes sound pitch perfect. Self corrective hearing is what I call it.

I might like the talent to finish everyone’s sentences before they could say it. Unfortunately I hang around a lot of people that don’t make a lot of sense. I’m not going to take credit for a bunch of nonsense.

I would like the talent to communicate with animals. I would like to understand their thoughts. Someday I will.

What is one of your fondest childhood memories?

One of my fondest memories is going perch fishing with my mom. When I was about five years old, I got the fishing bug. I couldn’t get enough fishing. My dad had a farm out at Eola, about twenty miles from home. The whole family would pack up before daylight, and drive out to the farm to work. My dad would usually be on his John Deere tractor. My mom would be either building electric fence or picking rocks out of the field. My sisters would be together hoeing weeds. I, being the baby, stuck with my mom. We would work till noon, and then drive to our neighbor’s pasture to have a picnic lunch. A small dirt tank with green water surrounded by large mesquite trees was one of my favorite places to spread out our homemade quilts, and rest in the shade. We would eat bread, summer sausage, longhorn cheese, and drink Cragmont orange soda water. After lunch, I would get out my cane pole. I always saved some of my lunch to use for bait. Those perch would bite on anything, but bread was my favorite cuz it stayed on my hook the best,

My dad would usually sleep and rest while my mom would watch me fish. She was actually watching a five year old kid making sure I wasn’t gonna fall in the water. The fish would bite as fast as you put the hook in the water. They weren’t very big, but I kept anything that had eyes. I even kept a little turtle. When I caught a water snake, my fishing was over.

Have you ever won anything?

The last year that the famous Sam Lewis put on the World Champion Armadillo Races, I won. Actually, my armadillo won. All I did was get behind Army and stomp and holler and chase him across the finish line. I guess I came in second. I released the armadillo back in the woods, but I kept the silver ring. My daughter Jennifer has the ring (I think).

I probably wouldn’t have given her the ring if it was gold.

What inventions have had the biggest impact on your day-to-day life?

The cube is probably the greatest invention of my lifetime. Before the cube, there was really not much stability in my life. Spheres were the rage when I was growing up. How can one build anything on a sphere? No matter how you slice it, you end up with just a lot of wheels.There was hope for wheels in those days, although someone took the idea too far. The whole world revolved around wheels and anything that could be made with them. Donuts were one of my favorites. It was like a wheel inside of a wheel. Clever. But look at a really fat donut from the side. It’s a cube. Give the cube the credit due. You eat a donut from the side, don’t you?

Cubes were the true building blocks of the future. The Egyptians knew this. They even made huge cubes all over their back yard. Then they sliced the cubes diagonally, tipped them over so they would rest on their most stable side, and “BAM”! They had yard art that would last for decades. People would ride by, see the yard art, and ask the age-old question, “Do you think that’s a cube cut in half on its axis, or is that cube half buried in the sand. If someone ever invents the wheel, we could build a big bulldozer and find out.”

Ice cubes. How would you like living in this planet without ice cubes. Sure, there’s people up north that don’t appreciate ice like we do, but what if they want to sit down for a while. Up north, chairs don’t grow on trees, but a big cube of ice would make a wonderful chair. You could probably build a house out of ice if you had enough of it laying around. An air-conditioned house. With an ice box.

I really don’t dislike spheres. After all, a sphere is just a well-rounded cube that likes to travel.

I changed my mind. My favorite invention that has changed my life is a 19 volt battery-operated screwdriver with an extra lithium battery. Made by Craftsman.

How has the country changed during your lifetime?

The country hasn’t changed at all. The cities are all screwed up. I lived in the country when I was a kid, and I live in the same country now. The trees I remember as a kid seemed to be a lot smaller back then. The country roads I use to walk down seem to be a lot shorter when I drive them.

Water skiing, tubing and fishing wasn’t good at all on our local lakes, but I got pretty good at skipping rocks. The trick was to find flat rocks about three inches across. If you could find rocks that were flat on the top and bottom, you were in business. With a little practice, you could get thirty or more skips out of one perfect rock. You could get even more skips if the lakebed wasn’t sandy. When you found that perfect rock, you didn’t squander it. You walked out in the lakebed and retrieved it. Once when I was retrieving one of my dad’s washers (sometimes I used artificials),I found a rowboat. It was a Sears/Roebuck 10 foot aluminum just like the ones in the catalogs. This boat was mine.There wasn’t a drop of water in my new boat, and I started dreaming about all the adventures I would have on Lake Nastywater. (We use to called it Lake Nasworthy, till the water level went down and old tires messed up our rock skipping). I named my boat S.S Minnow. Gilligan’s Island was my favorite after school tv show. I liked Gilligan the best, but Ginger and Mary Ann got a lot better over the years. My Dad enjoyed that show too. I knew he was really gonna get excited when I showed him The Minnow. We walked out on the lake and gazed down on our boat.

“Oh My Gosh! Look! ” Daddy saw my boat. He was excited. He peeled off his sweat stained farmers hat, smiled, sighed, and said something that I couldn”t believe. “There’s my old boat.”

“What! Your boat?”

“Sonny, I lost “The African Queen ” about forty years ago.” I was noodling for yeller cats down here when this was the Middle Concho. You know what noodling is……Catching them with your hands. It wasn’t against the law back in them days. Now, they would throw you in the pokie. I found this big rock right here and knew this was where the big one lived. Right under this rock. Your Uncle Sam, my older brother, was a better swimmer than me ,and he had more experience at catching big fish. Sam jumped in the water, took a deep breath, and went underwater. He came back up about 30 seconds later ,and told me the good news. “There’s a big hole under that rock, and there’s a catfish down in there. His head is as big as a five gallon bucket. As soon as I catch my breath, I’m going for him. My brother, Sam went under. He was down there a long time. He was down too long. I jumped in the water, and found the hole that Sam had entered. I reached in, and found Sam’s legs kicking up a storm. I grabbed his legs and started pulling him out of the hole. It was a struggle,but I pulled him out. We surfaced, and Sam was as white as a sheet. We looked around and couldn’t find “The African Queen”.

We sat up on the rock, Sam caught his breath finally, and told me what happened.”That monster fish was deep in the hole. I was rubbing his belly with both hands. My arms were extended, reaching for his gills. He kept swimming further in the hole. I didn’t realize that the hole was getting tighter, and I was running out of breath. My arms were out in front of me, and I couldn’t push my way out. I was stuck underwater. I was ready to give up when I felt you pulling me out. You saved my life!

We reached down to release our boat from the encrusted mud, and it proved to be a lot lighter than expected. There was no floor in the boat. It had rotted out years ago, but it still held some shared memories for my dad and me.

Uncle Sam and Daddy are both gone now. Maybe they’re floating down the Middle Concho in an old rowboat with a floor in it. Maybe they’re fishing for big yeller cats. They’re not noodling though because Sam promised God that he wouldn’t fish that way anymore.

Do you have any particularly vivid memories of your grandparents?

All of my grandparents were Czech. They didn’t speak English but they were successful farmers. They figured out early in life that to be wealthy, you had to have good discipline. They saved their hard-earned money that they made sharecropping. Then they bought land. They made do with growing their own fruits and vegetables. They raised chickens for eggs and meat. They had cows that they milked daily and butchered their own beef and hogs.They made their own clothes, churned butter, canned produce from the garden, made cheese , flour, cornmeal, and bread. The only thing easy on the farm was falling to sleep at night.

Butchering hogs in those days was a big deal. There was too much work for one family to do all the work in one day. There would also be too much meat and sausage to cure, smoke, and package. The meat from a three hundred pound hog would go bad before one family could eat it.

When the first cold day would come around, all of the aunts, uncles, and third-generation heathens would meet at my grandparents house with all their butcher knives, tow sacks, hog scrapers, seasonings. We were having a butcher day. There was going to be a lot of work and a lot of fun for everyone except two fat hogs.

The women would build a big hot fire under a wash kettle full of water. The men would get the hogs up out of the mud, and wash them off. The hogs didn’t know what was going on with all this special treatment, but I bet they thought they were family and they were being invited for dinner. Smart pigs.

My uncles would build a sled,and then would position our dinner guest close to it. A shot would ring out and an unhappy but short squeal would alert the second dinner guest that now might be the time to cancel his reservation. The relaxing swine napping on the sled would be given a ride to the kettle area. Tow sacks (burlap bags) were pulled out of the boiling water and spread over a portion of the sleeping porker. The scalding loosens the hair on the pig and a dull butcher knife is used to scrape the hair (root and all) off of the pig.

The whole process is repeated on a new area of the pig until the whole hog is as balded as the top of my head. That pig is also pretty and pink like the top of my head.

Now it’s time to gut the clean “organ donor”. The liver, kidneys, and heart are saved. The small intestines are also saved. It was my job to clean out the green juice out of these long tubes. I liked attaching a garden hose to one end and let the water pressure do the work. My job was taken away from me because of the mess I made all over the porch. I think years later Whamo made a fortune with a toy called a Water Wiggle. I guess I was just ahead of my time on inventions, but my marketing skills had not yet been perfected. Sometimes, poop happens.

The rolls of fat from the hog is collected for later use. The ashes from the fire were shoveled into a tilted wooden trough. Water was poured over the ashes and drained into another container. This was lye. The fat is put in the kettle and rendered down to lard. Some of the lard was saved to cook with. It was poor man’s shortening. Then the belly meat and flanks were cut up (with the skin still attached), and the small pieces were fried in the lard. This was cracklins. You eat them hot with molasses and homemade bread. You now have a lot of lard in the kettle. Dump the lye in with some kind of perfume and boil the devil out of it. Let the whole mess cool down and you got soap. Cut the soap into bars with a butcher knife and let it get cold. It will last forever. I think it has such a long shelf-like cuz no-one wants to use it. It stinks, and it takes your hide off with the dirt. It will cure a young boy from cussin .

Cut up the pork chops,cure the bacon, cure the hams and hocks, and start turning the grinder. It’s “SAUSAGE TIME”.

Those casings that were rescued from me are refilled with seasoned ground pork and tied into links. Hang ’em in the smoke house.

It’s now pretty late, and everybody’s tired. We sample the sausage and clean up the huge mess. I clean the front porch.

I give Babuska (Grandmother) a hug goodbye. I smell like the front porch, but she returns the hug anyway. That was sixty years ago, but I can still smell the aroma of fresh baked poppy seed kolaches from her homemade apron.

I still smell like her front porch.

My dad with his sisters and his mother. Wall, Texas.

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