#pulling out all of my strengths to make sure I keep on the timeline

[aheckinmess]

i can finish this i can finish this i can finish this i can finish this i can finish this i can finish this i can finish this i can finish this i can finish this i can finish this i can finish this i can finish this....

[ayyyez]

hello!! I hope you are feeling well!! can i ask for headcanons madara and tobirama with f!reader who is a very strong kunoichi, equal in strength to them? but at the same time she is very affectionate with them. thank you in advance!!

A/N: I am having a good energy day today so I am good thank you! I hope you are well too. Oh absolutely! This is actually my favourite kind of s/o to write for them. Not that I can't imagine them with a non-fighter s/o it's just this is my favourite kind of dynamic to write for these two. Including the affection too haha. Thanks for the request.

TAGS: relationship headcanons, fluff, general dynamics, shinobi reader, affectionate reader, flirting, kissing

CHARACTERS: Madara Uchiha, Tobirama Senju

MADARA UCHIHA

This gremlin? ohohoho. Alright here we go.

For him strength is quite the turn on. He sees you kicking someones ass or taking someone down and that's the moment he's down bad. Madara is attracted to you immediately.

Bonus points if you can banter with him too THAT really gets him hooked. Strong AND can hold your own against him with your quick wit?

Be still his beating heart. Probably says that out loud.

Chases you from the moment he sees you if it's village timeline. If it's pre village he's internally suffering over the "enemy" he's longing for into the late evenings.

You might be on opposing sides but his nights are filled with your interactions.

He's tossing and turning constantly.

Those interactions run through his head and he's tormented by the fact you'll never be his but still he longs for you. He craves you. He has to have you~

The interactions the two of you have are heated.

Fights where the two of you battle for dominance, cutting each other with honeyed words in a cloud of lust.

It was hard to tell if he was fighting you or flirting with you. Injuries were had but none dyer or ever resulting in serious consequences.

Then came the day you forced him onto his back, weapon kicked away and arms pined beside his head. Both of you panting. The tension palpable.

The way you to stared at each other, pupils dilated—it couldn't be seen as disdain or hate but something else.

That's when the two of you kissed.

You weren't really sure who leant in first. The two of you met in the middle. Both of you wanting this from the beginning.

Your lips sweet on his. He couldn't help but wanting more as he pushed, pushed, pushed further into the—oh his hands were in your hair now—when did your hands release him?

The two of you together are a couple of insatiable gremlins. He's just as affectionate although he does attempt to keep it in check in public.

The second his jealousy is kicked into gear though or his possessiveness kicks in so does his physical affection.

If you are in anyway the same it only spurs him on too.

You kiss him in public? He's smirking like a show for the around onlookers after.

It's to say 'Yeah this is my s/o.'

Always pushing into your touch the second you're reaching for him.

Take his chin in your hand and pull his face (tug that bitch) toward you. Make him wait (he's not patient but make him be it's fun) and gently brush you lips against his to keep him wanting.

It's a good way to make him melt and rile him up.

There's also the gentle moments. The absent minded touches. The two of you always seem to have a hand on each other. Resting on a thigh, the small of the back, head resting on a shoulder.

Physical affection in private can be a little more playful. Just bite his shoulder and he'll not even think twice about it. 'May I help you?' or 'And what do I owe this pleasure?' Yes, biting his shoulder amuses him, ergo pleasure lmao.

Kind of gets an ego boost seeing all the different sides of you.

TOBIRAMA SENJU

Honestly? Tobirama NEEDS someone who can kick his ass. Whether that be verbally or physically it doesn't matter as long as you call him out on his shit.

The fact you are on the same physical level as him as a shinobi is just a bonus (and he won't admit it in a hundred years but he's turned on~)

You've got to play it smart with the affection and not come on too fast too soon. Honestly, in general with all things with Tobirama you can't come on too fast.

He's like a gentle current, flowing steadily along the stream until suddenly he's a powerful waterfall crashing down (yeah that's him falling for you–steadily then all at once)

At first the affection is going to be a point of discomfort for him.

One, because he's not used to it and two, he's not sure why he keeps thinking about it. The feel of your touch, wondering about the meaning behind it.

It makes him so frustrated because you've become a distraction and somewhat a fixation for him–pulling him from important priorities.

it's not long before he pushes that logic aside though.

He starts longing for more of your touch, expecting it and seeking it out. More and more. It's all he can think about.

Those small touches of affection are things that get him through the day and the warmth he begins to crave.

He tolerates them now.

Tobirama runs cold and by nature seeks out warmth. Finds his hands soothed when yours envelop his. The same when your hand finds his cheek. It takes everything not to press into it. Sometimes he lets himself (just a little) and mostly when he's exhausted.

Craves physical affection.

Touch starved.

Will almost never seek out your touch so you intiating physical affection is the perfect balance.

Just kind of leans into your hold whenever you reach out. Like a magnet to your warmth. Whole body presses against you when he's exhausted, that's your cue to pull him close and gently stroke your fingertips up and down his back.

Put each hand on his cheeks and stroke them. When he relaxes thats the time to catch him off guard (not really he's always on guard but he's more relaxed) and pull him in and kiss him. Long drawn out kisses that leave him longing.

These moment give him a little more energy. They allow you to see those rare small smiles.

Tobirama also really values your opinion on things regarding shinobi life and village life in general.

Will ask your input on things and involve you on village matters (sometimes just to spend more time with you) other times simply because its important to him.

Post policy discussion make outs at home once you come to a conclusion of how to strengthen the village. Holding him tight and kissing him hard.

Tobirama is very into you in these moments.

It may take a little time for Tobirama to adjust to the affection but it is something he grows to not only love but take comfort in. He appreciates your strength and affection in equal parts.

[hotchfiles]

passenger seat.

pairing: seth cohen x fem!reader.

summary: you try so hard to help your best friend seth recover from his broken heart you forget about yours

content warnings: underage drinking, mentions of sex and drunk sex. the timeline is like... beginning of season 2, when seth comes back and finds out summer is dating zach. yes i'm gonna work on a part 2 i'm not that mean.

word count: 1,8k

      Summer Summer Summer Summer, it's honestly annoying how Seth can not seem to be able to talk about anything else anymore. And sure it has been like that since you were children, but since he was able to catch a glimpse of what dating her would be like and then lost it, well, he was down right impossible to be around.

      "Cohen, you're getting out of this bed right now, and you're getting some good music in your brain." You pull the cozy blankets from him with full strength while he tried to fight for it.

      "First of all, my brain is always full of good music. And second of all, My Summer is gone, my sun, all I have right now is the cold of winter and the solitude of being single, leave me in the warmth of my bed, please."

      You rolled your eyes and actually felt like you could reach enough to see your brain, his antics were usually amusing but Summer Summer Summer, you almost felt like warming up his face with a punch, but instead you took a deep breath, let go of the blankets and got closer to him, taking advantage of the element of surprise and pushing him out of his bed.

      "I have concert tickets, whiny baby, and Suuummeeer won't get back to you ever if you look that lame." That sparks his interest, you can see, and you're left to pretend it doesn't sting just a tiny bit, what matters is that he gets up and gathers some nice clothes before heading to his shower.

      "You're mean today, stop hanging out with Ryan," he yells from a distance, probably hoping it won't give you enough time for a snarky comeback. Obviously, he was wrong about that assumption, you both grew up together, you could almost predict what he would say already, you were always with a reply on the back of your mind.

      "We're taking turns so you stop being an ugly crying whiny mess."

      "Oh... That's why we took a cab."

      You stare back at him hoping he won't open his big mouth as the bartender serves the several, several shots of tequila you ordered using the not so good fake I.D you handed him. Although Orange County wasn't the best at keeping minors away from alcohol (beachy city full of rich kids) you still didn't want your plans to be ruined at the very beginning of the night.

      "Seth, I'm getting you hammered so you feel better for a night, and I don't hate you for a night." He seems concerned for a second, but knows you well enough not to argue, just as much as he can be annoying with his longass monologues, so can you, and you're not afraid to use violence if needed, misogyny needs to come in handy somehow, and not having your best friend fight you back has got to be it.

      You slide his half of the shots towards him and start quickly gulping yours, only half way in reality sets that maybe, maybe, that was not your best idea. But by then Seth was also doing his own shots and laughing as the tequila burnt his throat, his nose and lips twisting around each time.

      You hear screams and realize the band is probably beginning the set, so you get your beer and give one to Seth, and he makes a comment about how you weren't kidding about getting him hammered, but you almost can't hear him as you pull him by the shirt running so you both can get a reasonably good spot.

      Cohen was a Death Cab for Cutie fan, you knew it, everyone knew it, and if there were any concerts, meetings, or if you had their addressees, you would've chosen them for tonight, but Coldplay was all you could get last minute to get your curly haired boy out of his fortress of solitude at least for one night.

      You both enjoyed some indie rock music so the concert was fun from the start, especially with the alcohol that went straight to your brain as company to the songs that made your body move ever so slightly. Seth obviously didn't dance, he made it quite the point not to, "this is music to enjoy, not to dance, don't disgrace us like that," he says in between laughter and hiccups, giving his beer a tiny sip only because honestly he can not stand the smell of alcohol anymore.

      "Stop being such a looooser, dance with me!"

      You took the bottle from his hand and threw it along with yours on the nearest bin, leading his hands to your waist. This isn't weird. You don't think it's weird, but weirdly, Seth doesn't think it's weird either.

      You're more than thirty minutes into the concert and it's not a slow song at all, Don't Panic roars from the stage and from the audience, you both try to keep up to the rhythm, guiding him to twirl you around and showing him a two step easy peasy dance to follow.

      Seth almost falls down, you both laugh uncontrollably, he's way too drunk for this, you're way too drunk for this, his hands go back comfortably to your waist, as if it was a rooted reaction already, you felt your stomach turn as the music notes changed and you knew what song was coming.

      You looked up and Seth was already looking at you, his beautiful brown eyes staring at yours like he had just discovered something new.

      He wanted to kiss you, he really did, was that weird? Was that bad? Maybe he was too much in his head, and maybe he was too drunk, but he was single and you looked at him like that and you were oh so beautiful and trying so hard to make him smile and maybe he shouldn't because he was still hooked on Summer—but was he really? The more he looks at you, and the more you don't look away, the more he thinks that maybe this is just how things are supposed to be.

      And he didn't even notice what song was playing, too busy paying attention to your breathing, only when your drunken self decided that for some reason this was the time to confess, if anything, you could just play it off as if you were just singing along to Shiver "you know how much I need you, but you never even see me," and before you can hide your eyes and glue them to your feet, Seth pulls you by your neck for a sloppy drunken kiss, your hands grab his shirt but you waste no time and kiss him back.

      Both of you couldn't even wait for the concert to end, leaving and getting into the nearest cab you could find as soon as you can let go of each other for air. His address at the tip of your tongue not mattering how drunk you were.

      You get into the mansion tripping around as you try to kiss each other, not make a sound that could wake his parents, and also find his room, and when you do you almost fall on your ass due to his goddamn skateboard being right in front of his bed, you end up laughing out loud, but Seth closes the door before anyone can hear it.

      "I'm starting to think your parents won't like me sleeping over."

      Guilt starts creeping in and you're not even sure why, like you're doing something bad, something that won't be approved of, your best friend looks at you with a warm gentle smile, pulling you to him by your hand and having you sit on his lap as he's on the edge of his bed, both of your legs on each of his sides, your arms go to his neck.

      "My parents love you, they probably love you more than they love me. Ryan loves you more than he loves me." An overreaction, that's what that is, and you know it, very dramatic that boy, but it gets you giggling and you lean in for a tender, long kiss. but a question pops your mind and you stop it, you're not sure if it's the time to ask it, you might be ruining your only chance to have Seth.

      But you have to.

      "I know that. The real question is... Do you?" Your teeth nervously gnaw on your bottom lip, and Seth knows he loves you, he would never hesitate on that, so it's easy for him to get you close and touch your forehead with his, even if he doesn't know right now if it's the love you're looking for, he knows right now he wants to be with you, so it must be right.

      "Of course, Dumbo."

      You roll your eyes and push him till his back hits his bed, continuing what you two had started and leaving sloppy kisses to his neck as your hands found themselves under his shirt, your hips purposely taking advantage of your position and grinding slowly down his crotch, you imagined it would be easy to get Seth moaning but you didn't think it would be that easy. You loved it.

      You were both horny drunk teens, it took minutes for your clothes to be on the ground and for Seth to be inside of you, your legs surrounding his waist and your fingers pulling on his hair. And it isn't weird, it's familiar, it's hot, it's sensual without the need to pretend to be anything else. It's the best you've ever had simply by how connected you feel to Seth.

      You sleep into his arms, feeling his scent and you're afraid this is a dream you're soon to wake up from.

      You do panic when you wake up at 5A.M, not feeling like facing the rest of the Cohens after what you did to their precious son, Seth was still sleeping like a beautiful baby and you wouldn't wake him up, you hoped he wouldn't be mad at you for leaving without saying goodbye, but you brush your lips against his before sneaking out and you feel like the world is about three times brighter.

      That is, until 8A.M. you took a nap in your own bed to at least pretend you were home during the night, and woke up to Seth's texts after he woke up.

cohen: i rmbr coldplay cohen: i rmbr tequila cohen: nd i rmbr laughing a lot cohen: so even tho i might die of a hangover, thx cohen: might txt summer yellow lyrics dont stop me

      The lightweight bastard had forgotten everything, everything that made your night special. And went right back to Summer talking, maybe you should've just punched him the first time you thought about it.

[sourw0lfs]

dance with the devil - part seventeen

Words: 761 | Rating: E | CW: mentions of blood, panic attacks | AO3

one || sixteen || eighteen

The sidewalk is painful under Steve’s feet with the pace he sets himself at once he reaches the bottom of the stairs. He thinks, vaguely, that there are more footsteps echoing behind him as he runs, trying in vain to catch up. He doesn’t look back to see for himself.

Instead he just runs.

He runs until his chest burns with a different kind of fire, until his legs beg for him to stop, and then he runs some more. The streets are eerily empty, or maybe Steve’s just too far gone to notice the stares he’s getting as he runs. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is putting distance between himself and those around him. There’s something wrong with him and he isn’t safe to be around. He’s killed someone, probably two someones. There can’t be a third and there can’t be a chance of that third being Robin.

The sidewalk gives way to packed dirt and rocks. The buildings give way to trees. Steve doesn’t stop.

His foot catches a protruding root, sending him sprawling. A sob leaves his lips unbidden as he tries to draw in breaths through his heaving lungs. His whole body hurts anew, no longer trained for being pushed to those kinds of limits, and Steve can’t even find the strength to push himself back up again. He just lays in the dirt, sobbing but thankful to be alone.

There’s no one for him to hurt in the woods. Everyone he cares about is safe.

Hurried footsteps reach his ears, filling stomach with dread as they close in on where he’s fallen, but Steve still doesn’t have the strength to get up. Instead he just closes his eyes and wills the person to not notice him there.

“Steve!” Eddie’s voice echoes through the trees as the footsteps pick up with purpose. “Jesus H Christ, dude, you can’t just take off like that.”

Steve cracks one eye open to look up at Eddie as he kneels down, eyes trailing over Steve’s body as if he’s checking for injuries. He looks even more exhausted than he had in the apartment for a moment Steve feels bad about it, gearing up to tell Eddie to go away. But then it hits him. Eddie’s already dead. Steve can’t kill him a second, surely. Which makes Eddie safe to be around.

“S’not safe,” he mumbles. “Had to… keep them safe…”

It takes every bit of energy Steve still has to get the words out, and he isn’t even sure Eddie hears them. He closes his eyes again, ready to become one with the ground in his exhaustion when Eddie’s hand clutches his shoulder. It sends a shock through Steve’s body, pulling free a yelp of surprised pain, before all of his aches, pains, and tiredness vanish. It leaves Steve feeling bereft and antsy as he sits up and glares at Eddie.

“I didn’t ask you to fix me,” he snaps as Eddie flops back this time, waving a hand lazily in Steve’s direction.

“Kind of my job, Steve,” Eddie reminds him. “Gotta keep you safe and well or Joyce is going to drag me to Hell by my ear or something.”

Steve snorts. “Pretty sure she’d forgive you for not taking care of a murderer,” he bites back.

The word leaves a sour taste in his mouth, but it’s the truth. He’s a murderer. He’s killed at least two people during whatever the weird blackouts he’s been having are. Even though they feel grossly like he’s not in control, Steve doesn’t really think that excuses anything.

“I don’t think it matters if you’re a murderer or not,” Eddie replies. “Probably gets me more points anyway, doing good deeds when I should leave you for dead.”

“Right, sure.”

Steve thinks the words are neutral enough, but it seems Eddie doesn’t, because he’s pushing himself into a sitting position a second later, eyes narrowed in Steve’s direction. “Do you want me to leave you for dead?” he asks. “Or do you want me to help you figure out what’s going on?”

The questions give Steve pause, frowning heavily in Eddie’s direction. Since getting the full timeline of events back, he hadn’t stopped to consider figuring out why. His only concern had been keeping people safe. But if they could figure it out…

“Do you think figuring out could help it stop happening?” he asks in return.

Eddie shrugs, expressing trying and failing to fall somewhere in the realm of nonchalant. “Can’t hurt to try, right?”

Steve can’t find a reason to disagree.

Tag list below the cut!

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[sugarstarlights]

Madison Altair opens his eyes after falling asleep and immediately makes several consecutive expressions of displeasure. The environment he finds himself in is a twisted form of his previous containment, his apartment without walls and minimilized , opened up to the abyss with nothing but an open door and an absolutely shredded green couch in the center of the room, destroyed by perfectly straight lines torn open to expose stuffing and structure. Splayed out on the couch is a mangled, splintered wooden puppet in his likeness, eyes colorless and a soft sobbing noise coming from its mouth. Flinching hard as he hears the sound, Mads grips the hand that manifests in his tightly the moment he can, needing his primary source of grounding faster than he thought he would. It indicates something terrifying: Sarandiel, at this moment, wants him to suffer more than anything.

Taking a deep, steady breath as he scans the room, Mads picks a point on the black and white marbled sharp-edged floor supporting the couch and focuses hard on the details of something he owns, something he wills to be here for the sake of his own fairly arbitrary desire. It's a warmup, in part, to make sure he still has the ability to manifest in this place like he could before, and it works, a tripod and relatively magical video camera arranged appearing to watch the room from the lack of wall to his left, a hopefully panoramic view for this facedown. He grins with a small reflexive fist pump as the recording starts, satisfied with his success.

---- (viewed ic) ----

The view shows Mads Altair and Cookie glaring down the room, the former bearing a blue suit, shining gold wings and even brighter golden hands. The room in question drips from dark nowhere with viscous black strings, the void beyond increasingly filled with opening, focusing green eyes, some appearing as light and others far more realistic, inconsistent in shade and occasionally shaking in rage as they centralize their awareness on this space again, and the beings who have dared to return.

The puppet on the couch rises on its green strings, hanging rather than standing in its half-connected pieces but its glowing green eyes focused on the pair of men.

”Puppet, my puppet, you return, have you come to throw yourself at my mercy?—” The droning voice echoing from the open hinged mouth cuts short, almost seeming to flinch, many of the surrounding eyes growing wider. “No…What is this divinity? What are you? An angel with a powerful soul is still only human in nature—”

“None of the above, jackass!”

This bold interruption sparks the figurative flame of how he feels about them. Deep, bitter rage rises in Madison Altair's throat as they call him that /fucking word/, his magic-supported mind pushing away the pain it triggers to give the young divinity room to gain strength to avenge its cruel intention instead. Their intentional string pulls are just another reason to get them the Hell out of here.

“I'm a god too right now, strong enough to keep your power out of my head, stronger than /you/ and your lame-ass, timeline-restrained, obsessively controlling domain, for sure!“ He wasn't sure, yesterday, but now, after lots of mantras, for the purposes of this, and maybe, if he can prove it, for the foreseeable future, Mads /knows/ he's stronger, better, and fully out of His god's reach.

They spend long enough silently uncomprehending of such a change that Mads takes the opportunity to keep taunting the puppet to its face, stepping aggressively forward and looking it in the eyes. “I had this place perfect and then you brought your shitty psychological torture chamber and gross personal problems into /my/ awesome space and fucked it all up.”

The lecture is so intense that the puppet actually flinches, though manages to insert a response before its matching soul continues. “You are no god, merely a pretender. This domain you call your '/awesome space/' is mine; theft does not alter ownership, and I have every right to reclaim it.”

“No you fucking don't. If you wanted it back you shoulda said so back when I got it, months ago, fully on accident, y'know; I didn't steal your shit on purpose, it wasn't even /hard/.” He laughs in their face and shoves the puppet bodily, taking a stomping step forward. From where his foot makes contact with the marbled floor a pulse of purple light emanates outward, making several brighter green eyes flinch shut. Spreading from under his foot, the surface starts to turn solid, vivid Mads Altair Purple, an effect that immediately draws every eye's attention. The god can feel intense divinity surging through him, connecting with the metaphysical material he's already so familiar with and with every confident word saturating it with his own soul, entirely displacing the other god's temperate, unresisting passive energy with his intense and willful power.

”It was in /my/ soul all this time, I can change it as well as you can, and now I'm going to claim it properly, my friend told me how. Because my friends are smarter than you, and gave me everything I need to evict your ass. Here's 1 of those objective facts you love: this piece of the Astral Plane belongs to me and me alone, and there's nothing you can do about it.“ Mads Altair lets go of his grounding point and steps firmly forward again, another footprint of color staking his claim, and tosses the puppet aside bodily, its strings following. Considering a moment, he turns to the couch, hands in his pockets, and kicks it over with 1 foot and a loud thud. He always hated that fucking couch, and it's not as satisfying as it should be to see it destroyed like that.

”It's /mine/. End. Of. Story.“

The couch dissolves into purple sparks when the growing patches of colored floor spread beneath it at a steady pace, and Mads looks up at the darting, panicked eyes with a dark, smug grin. ”So this is our opposing forces of will, huh? What's wrong, getting nervous? Not so sure if you're in control anymore? Good! You're not. Now get out of my fucking way.“

He doesn't need to reach down and put his hands to the surface of the plane like he did before; with this power, he doesn't even need to make further contact. All it takes is Mads Altair raising his hands and slamming them fisted downward with intent to cause another shockwave of increasingly dense sparks to radiate around him, not just coloring the floor now but spreading beyond it, expanding into the previously vast, open area Sarandiel had turned into an awful little box. It grows beyond the cramped vicinity of the eyes, all they can do is watch, and perhaps finally get a word in.

“You cannot possibly- this is not how it works, I will not permit it. I will NOT PERMIT IT--” Too shocked to actively resist, only now do they realize the firmness required to push back, but it's already too late.

Though the protesting puppet dissolves as well, the initial open door remains after everything, the green and white funnel within floating now at the far edge of the visible plane where it had been created. Reaching back to squeeze Cookie's hand again, Mads releases it and steps toward the door without hesitance or fear, under the deeply hateful gaze of dozens of eyes and with green strings of light extending towards him only to vaporize in his glowing aura.

“Alright, Sarandiel, you bastard, get the Hell out of my domain,” The god announces, eyes blazing like 2 suns in the sky, “And /don't come back/.”

The door is slammed near-violently shut without allowing Sarandiel another word, turns purple, and quickly dissolves into sparks. Every green eye floating in the void blinks out and in moments colored sparks come rushing back in from where they'd been repelled, gold, pink and purple clouds interrupting the dark. Brushing his hands together like he's cleaning them off, a massive, satisfied smirk on his face, Madison Altair turns back to the fully purple surface of the wide piece of Astral Domain that he's claimed, as well as his ecstatically proud boyfriend. Cookie waits only until Mads has thrown his arms in the air and cheered goofily at his own accomplishment to throw himself into the god's arms, pulling him into a passionate kiss that's onscreen for all of half of a second before the recording ends.

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

Results are in! Friend-buffed Madison Altair is the cooler better stronger god! Christ I'm glad that went well or it could have really not. But it didn't! And it couldn't have. Because I did great and the place is all mine now and they're completely fucking gone. I'm gonna go have some celebratory ice cream cake. Don't worry about how I did the filming thing the camera isn't real anyways it's fine.

[snorlaxlovesme]

what is your favorite line/section of your sick CXS fic? It is so good and I love when authors can share some of their thoughts!

i feel so spoiled with these messages from you, thank you for being so kind my godd

(aforementioned sickfic)

it's hard to choose favorite lines bc genuinely i do love the whole fic so much. a lot of the time i'm writing off the cuff and it just flows out of me in one or two sittings (it's why i'm a one-shot writer) but this was a story that took me months to complete because of all the planning involved (and absolutely fruitless research into Chinese herbal soups, since literally NONE of that research made it into the fic lmao) and so the whole thing feels really special and different from my other stories just because of how much thought was put into it.

it took a long time, but i adored writing the second half, getting to write the same day over again and try to make it identical while FEELING totally different. having Lu Guang totally in pieces over every little change he accidentally makes to the timeline was mwaa *chef's kiss*

i think my favorite line was what i eventually pulling from to make the summary on AO3

"Lu Guang is so tired. He wishes he could freeze this conversation, this whole day, and go nap for a thousand hours. The stress of it all is sucking the marrow from his bones. He wishes he could do today over again. He doesn’t know if he’d have the strength to do today over again."

idk i just feel like it really encapsulates the struggle Lu Guang goes through in this fic and might literally go through on a day to day basis trying to re-live the timeline. like i'm sure every misstep feeling like something Lu Guang would want to do over, but how many times can he handle that, emotionally? like this day mentally broke him and it's literally the most nothing day. Lu Guang forgot to make one phone call and almost suffered cardiac arrest because of it.

plus its very sweet that Cheng Xiaoshi, sick as a dog and feeling down on himself for being left alone all day, comforts Lu Guang after this moment because he can see Lu Guang is going through like a panic-induced existential crisis and mistakes it for Lu Guang ALSO feeling ill, sweet boy ♥

i also really liked the simplicity of these lines (it includes spoilers so look away if you wanna read the fic first. )

But Lu Guang thinks of the tear-streaked smile after Cheng Xiaoshi took that first bite. Spending every waking moment agonizing over his next step won’t get him anywhere. Instead, Lu Guang folds up that smile and tucks it into a corner of his mind for safekeeping. Cheng Xiaoshi thanked him for today. Maybe that is enough.

that part wasn't in the original draft. these lines are in response to CXS thanking Lu Guang for caring for him and i think i had a bit of prose where LG internally laments that he spent half the day ignoring CXS and only took care of him when it was clear Qiao Ling wasn't going to be able to, so the thanks wasn't really deserved. or something self deprecating like that

i had sent my "final draft" to a friend after revising some bits in the flashback and said "i wanna post it but i feel like i need to mess with the ending still. it feels off" my friend insisted what i had was great but i didn't know if the last line of the fic ("Timeline be damned") felt earned. Lu Guang had been a slave to the timeline for the entirety of the story, allowing him to kind of/sort of say "fuck you" to the timeline for a brief moment felt like it was going against everything i had just established, of how IMPORTANT keeping to the timeline was to Lu Guang for the sake of being able to save Cheng Xiaoshi in the future.

it was my friend that gave me the idea to write a simple thesis line that shows what Lu Guang has learned from this. that disaster is definitely a potential outcome in Lu Guang's crazy plan, but seeing Cheng Xiaoshi at peace is enough to make him want to try. like you said in your comment on the fic, if you went back in time, you'd want to be kinder. those lines are Lu Guang reminding himself that seeing CXS at peace has an emotional effect on Lu Guang as well.

ALSO idk the "fold up his smile and tucks it in his mind" bit is cute okay? it's a very cute sentence and i'm proud i wrote it lol

this is very long so i'm gonna stop rambling but again THANK YOU so much for asking me this and for all your sweet messages. i truly can't get over how wonderful it's been talking about this story with you, it's only made me love it more and i already thought it was my magnum opus lmao

[oboetemasuka]

Hostage Game

This is unpleasant, Hurling slurs of "hostage game" You do know that it's up to me?

@good-beanswrites's dare drabble meets the Betrayal timeline >:)

Not that the context matters much. I just wanted to write a scene of Amane headbutting Shidou. I did write one before this, but no, you may not read it.

Cw: descriptions of injuries and blood, discussions of Amane's cult

-

Amane was trapped in a horrifying trance. Kotoko was attacking her all over again. Every jolt in her ribs was like a fresh strike that she couldn't defend herself from. Every attempt to pull her arms free only exacerbated the pain. She couldn't muster the strength to get up.

The creaking of the door and the light pouring into the room snapped her out of it.

"Amane."

No. Anyone but him. Even Kotoko would be better than him.

"It's okay. You're safe now."

"N-no… Stay away… Kirisaki-" She felt another jab in her lungs.

Shidou only moved closer. His face was obscured by the backlight, which meant Amane's face, free of the eyepatch and bandages, was clear to see. She wondered what he was thinking. She was caught red-handed, blatantly disobeying the doctor's orders. Not that she made any secret of it, but the way he loomed over her made her actions weigh heavier on her.

Shidou noticed Amane's apprehension and quietly took a seat by her bedside. Or rather, she told herself, he was projecting the image of a helpless child onto her and trying to act fatherly in front of her. How sickening. He wasn't fooling her.

He drew out something from his bag. Bandages? Like at the time of the attack? Was he really going to do this again? Amane didn't have the energy to scream for him to stop, and even if she did, nobody was going to take her side.

Shidou grasped one of the suspender straps of Amane's uniform. She could see a glint of scissors. Oh. He was going to free her. She was relieved, but then she chided herself for feeling that way. Why should she depend on Kirisaki Shidou? What would happen once she was free? She wouldn't be at a complete liberty to do whatever she wanted… If she was going to sneak out again and take off whatever bandages the doctor would put on her, she would have to be more careful about…

Shidou stopped moving the scissors for a second. What? But then he moved them around again, as if he noticed that Amane had gotten suspicious of him. But what was (not) done was done, and he found no point in hiding his thoughts.

"Amane. Do you promise not to interfere with your treatment?"

"I will..."

Shidou put down the scissors reached into his bag again. What now? But Amane remained undeterred.

"...make no such promise."

Shidou took out a roll of bandages and began explaining the severity of Amane's injuries and how self-destructive her behavior was. The nerve of that wretched doctor…

"...hostage..." Amane muttered.

"What? Amane..."

"You are keeping me..."

"Where is this coming from-"

"My faith... as ransom..."

"This is not about your beliefs."

"...won't let me go until you are sure I..."

"Don't be ridiculous. This is about your safety, not-"

"You are being ridiculous! You stopped helping as soon as you thought I-" Amane used up too much of her air and needed to catch her breath again.

Shidou took the opportunity to keep. talking. over. her. Now he was attacking her faith. Wholly misinterpreting it. Saying that maybe she was the one who got it wrong. Amane was too furious to hear him out. She shifted to a seated position despite how it hurt.

"…perhaps it was your destiny for me to heal-"

"Shut up!" she screamed, kicking the side of her bed to propel herself. She rammed her head into Shidou's face with enough force to knock him out of the chair. They both fell.

The impact did not agree with any of Amane's injuries. She lay motionless on the ground, willing for her bones to stop throbbing and let her breathe. Her head was pounding. Her vision was getting prickly. Was she bleeding? She felt she was being shifted. She blinked away the dots and turned her head to find Shidou searching through his bag again. What else is he going to get?

Kazui and Mahiru arrived in short order. Now this was exactly like the scene of the attack.

"It's okay, Amane-chan," Mahiru whispered as she drew her own pair of scissors and began to cut the restraints. "You're safe now."

"Please… Don't betray me again…" Amane begged.

"I won't." As Mahiru swept the first strap out of the way, she looked back to see Kazui give Shidou a handkerchief for his bleeding nose. Thankfully, she didn't comment on it.

[earth-93]

BRIGADE FILES: HULK (Part 1)

Stars & Stripes Hotline [Version 1.14]

C: \login\Nowhere_Man

C:\Users\mini\BrigadeFiles\Avengers

Directory of C: \BrigadeFiles\Avengers

04/27/2006 11: 43 AM Total Files Listed: 16 File(s) 538, 687 bytes

Directory of C:\BrigadeFiles\Avengers\BANNER_BRUCE.txt

[file data =

Main Alias/Moniker: Hulk

Legal Name: Dr. Bruce Robert Banner

Other Aliases: Doc, Big Guy, Hulkster, Greenfoot, Jade Jaws, Green Giant, Shrek

Date of Birth: May 19th, 1975 (Age: 30)

Status: Alive

Species: Human Mutate (Gamma Mutate)

Sex: Male

Gender: Cisgender

Height/Weight: [Bruce] 5'8'' (173cm) / 125 lbs (57kg); [Hulk] 7' - 8'5'' (2 - 2.5m) / 1,150 - 4,000 lbs (680 - 1,815kg)

Hair/Eye Color: [Bruce] Brown / Brown; [Hulk] Black / Green

Timeline (1975 - 1985): My past with Bruce aside, I don't think you need me to tell you that most of what's been written about the Hulk is bull. Nothing but conspiracy rags that make parsing the fact from the fiction even harder (If I were a more paranoid type, I'd say it's on purpose. I wouldn't put it past Ross or SHIELD to keep the public on their toes about Bruce, no matter how much good press he gets. I'm just as biased as any other guy, but I'm biased in the sense that I was just some kid that a so-called monster tried to help. Do with that what you will.

Bruce has said that his earliest memory was being pulled out from a car wreck by his dad during a rainy night. Brian Banner went back to get his wife, but by then the car had sunk so deep into the muddy earth that he couldn't find the strength to pull her out. That moment was totally where Old Man Banner's obsession with strength first came from. Once the media got a hold of the Hulk's identity, a lot of those write-ups loved to embellish Bruce's childhood. Don't get it twisted, Brian Banner wasn't the Devil, but he was a mean sonuvabitch. He would at least have his stepmom Rebecca in his life, once the Banners moved to New Mexico. To this day, Bruce still thinks of her fondly.

Brian himself was almost never home, instead toiling away at his gig at Desert State. See, Brian Banner was a physician with a specialty in glands. After he failed to pull his first wife out of that wreck, he became fixated on the theory of "hysterical strength." You know those stories you hear about moms being able to lift whole cars to save their babies? No scientist has ever been able to square away how and why that happens, but Old Man Banner was hellbent on being the one to crack it. When the higher-ups are Desert State shot down his research, he decided to keep going at home.

Timeline (1985 - 1991): To this day, Bruce has never said what really went down that night. As far as I know, his mind just blocked it out. I have my theories, but if I'm resorting to speculation I'm no better than one of those rag pieces. All I know for sure is what was put on the police report: The morning after a nasty storm, authorities swept through the Banner household smashed up, Rebecca beaten to death, and Bruce left in a shock in the same room as the body. A few days later, Brian was found in the middle of the desert, naked and hysterical. He was charged with murdering Rebecca and was given life.

Another misconception about Bruce is that his anger issues only came about once he went green. What he went through, that's where it all started, and you don't even have to trust me on that. His aunt and uncle would back me up, since they were the ones who took Bruce in. Back then, Bruce was unresponsive, quick to anger, and would throw a fit if he ever felt cornered or too agitated. He wasn't too responsive to treatment at first, either. What turned it all around for Bruce was his cousin, Jen. She was born a year before his aunt and uncle took him in, and even though they did their best with him, they had understandable worries about Bruce being around Jen. He says this is what first made him try to take treatment seriously. Earning that trust from his aunt and uncle. To this day, the two see each other more as siblings than cousins.

He put a lid on his anger issues, but Bruce's social skills never really picked up. His brains, though, they never seemed to stop growing. So when he got an in at the Tomorrow Academy across the country, his aunt and uncle couldn't see a downside. I have my theories Ross had his eye on Bruce all the way back then because of who his old man was, but I can't back that claim--yet. Even if I can't make a direct connection, Ross still definitely had his finger on the place. That meant having an extended stay in New York, and his kid popping in the Academy from time to time. That's how Bruce first met Betty. In spite of himself, Bruce managed to strike something up with Betty, and they kept in you well after the Academy's shutdown. Even when Bruce had any school in the world to nab his PhD, he went with NJIT so he would be closer to Betty. Neither of them could have imagined this would seal Bruce's fate.

Timeline (1991 - 1998): Betty was in Jersey because she was one of the first recruits for the newly-minted SHIELD Comm School. She wanted to keep up the family military tradition by getting into spy work, but even back then she was a sleuth at heart. Case in point, when she and Bruce got close enough he started opening up about his past, Betty couldn't just leave it be. I don't know if it was empathy to help Bruce get closure, or just a fixation on solving a mystery. Whatever it was, Betty put together an investigation on what Brian was researching before he killed Rebecca and showed it to Bruce.

In turn, a switch went off in Bruce when he poured over his old man's work in hysterical strength. Like father, like son, Bruce became obsessed with finishing his old man's work to tap into the hidden strengths that all humans have. SHIELD was either desperate, or Bruce made one heckuva pitch, because in no time at all a new Super-Solider project was in the works. The ink on Bruce's pHd wasn't even dry before a base in the desert was installed to further explore his theories.

Call it trauma, shame, fear, or even some lingering loyalty to the powers that victimized him, but Bruce has never come clean about what went down at Project Gamma. From what I personally know, their experiments went well past any ethical boundaries. A young man looking for some closer was quickly finding things spinning out of his control, that's a lot on your conscience. And that all came crashing down on that one fateful day, when an internal sabotage caused a radiation leak, then a breakout of its test subjects—helped by a big, green giant barrelling through the walls and security for them.

continue data? y/n]

[cookinguptales]

I will say that I've been lying down quite a bit the past few days just because uh. Strong dislocation risk.

So, to please tumblr, I've started listening to Malevolent. Podcasts are an okay way to stay sane when you can't move much, lmao.

Thoughts so far under a cut, because to my knowledge, only two of you care about this lmao.

So far... I'll admit my feelings are mixed. I'm a couple episodes into the second season, I think, and... well, I still don't care much for cosmic horror or creature features. I'll admit it's just kind of a style of horror that I find a little boring. Every time they start describing the new monster or Lovecraftian cult or cosmic horror, I'll admit that my eyes glaze over a bit.

So uh. With the caveat that the actual plot is not doing that much for me at all, I'm not like... okay, if I were on my own I probably would've tuned out by now. lmao. But I'm not, so I'm pulling steadily through. I don't hate it or anything. That said, it does struggle from some of the same pitfalls as other indie horror podcasts, and I do think it's worsened a bit by the creator trying to do everything himself here.

I especially wish that he had not decided to do every voice himself, because as someone with hearing difficulties, it makes it really hellish to figure out what's going on sometimes. lmao. I usually rely on really distinct voices to tell people apart in podcasts, and I mean. That's not a thing here. Moreover, because he often tries to disguise his voice with accents or digital effects... well, that does not always make the voicework easy to understand. I've had to rely kind of heavily on the transcripts, so thank god they're there.

While I think he does have writing strengths and weaknesses (it's... not always easy to keep track of what's going on) I am interested to see where the characters go. I'm not... quite sure I follow the logic for why John gained selfhood while Arthur was in a coma, but I'm willing to just go with it. I do kind of wish that we were working with a somewhat expanded timeline, though... I think at times it's like "HE'S GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO HIS FACE..." and I'm like "sir, it's been like 48 hours." But. You know. Again, I'll just go with it.

I am intrigued by the idea of writing a pairing inhabiting the same body (and......... it would not be the first time, if I'm being entirely honest) and I think that's kind of what's got me holding on lmao. I do also like the concept of a creature struggling against his old self in a very literal way. That sort of bid for earned humanity is always interesting to me, though I'll admit I haven't listened to enough of s2 to have thoughts on how it's playing out.

So every time I'm like "oh... okay... they're being chased by a monster again..." I just tell myself "yes, but you might get to write something very weird and fucked up" and that does help.

To be clear, I'm not saying the style of horror here is necessarily a bad thing. It gives old radio serial vibes sometimes, like they're gonna have to fight the eldritch ghost pirates with Little Orphan Annie or something, and I'm sure some people enjoy that very much. It's just a style of horror that I tend to bounce off of even in other types of media. (Like I am still firmly of the opinion that The Descent was scarier before the monsters showed up.) I suppose I just feel more strongly affected by horror that's more like... just kind of unsettling and uncanny and spooky. The monster-y action stuff does less for me personally. Like.. I'm not worried about Shub-Niggurath showing up in my apartment, frankly. I'm just like "yeah but that's not real."

Spooky, uncanny, very personal horror that is just disquietingly close enough to a reality that can't quite be explained is more my style, I think. I'm realizing that as I listen to this podcast.

Other things I've thought to myself while listening to this podcast:

SHUB-NIGGURATH IS A GIRL. It was even in that book they read out loud in the first episode. But John and Arthur keep calling her "he" and I'm like "that's sexist, women can be unfathomable eldritch beasts TOO. god forbid women do ANYTHING."

me, halfway through the second episode of s2: sir are you going to make us wander through the entirety of dante's inferno or just the seventh circle? because that was a very long book?? we've already done the violet/blood-red lake, self-harm woods, the burning plain, and the cliff, and I'm a little worried about that allusion to ice at the bottom! I don't want to go all the way down, lmao.

the first time they mentioned the king in yellow I immediately imagined the man in the yellow hat and I am so sorry but I still keep thinking of him. and also occasionally this man. it kind of... makes him less scary...

it's truly embarrassing how much it drove me crazy until I remembered that song at the beginning of episode 10 was "stardust" lmao. which... I suppose is probably some kind of cosmic horror pun...

I know that I was supposed to be really horrified when John took control over Arthur's hand but literally all I thought was "oh, I'm sure the fandom has made good use of that."

like I was in marvel comics fandom for years before the movies came out, I am well acquainted with monsterfucking fic.

look I'm not here to criticize you, john, but your other half seems to be running a really inefficient cult here.

how did you guys not notice the wraith following you for like six episodes. that one really seemed to come out of nowhere. like... did she hitchhike with them?? go in the caves with them?? swim behind the boat?? or was she just like psychically watching them and then teleported???? I am literally so confused about the wraith thing. I get that they wanted Arthur's kindness towards a "monster" to save him later, I get the themes and motifs here, and I get that they needed a deus ex machina, but I'm so confused about the actual mechanics of that save. it didn't help that I thought that "free her" meant like... free her spirit so she wouldn't be a wraith anymore and she could move on or something. so I had a very confusing moment like "wait, that thing is still alive??" lmao

so... anyway, yeah, I'm just kinda. hangin' on. haha. I'm here for the monsterfucking more than I am for the monster fighting, being honest with you. the monster mash more than the monster bash, if you will. but I am willing to be patient with the parts of the podcast that don't do as much for me to get more character work. hopeful on that point.

[legionofpotatoes]

For real, your take on Mando season 3 is completely on point. But I get not feeling able to say it out loud without a disclaimer before, after, and in the tags to keep from getting shouted at in the reblogs. It's just the messed up nature of being in the SW fandom on Tumblr. Speaking your mind on your own blog is an invitation for buffoonery.

If I were completely honestly, I'm not in the least shocked that's what we got. I've long held the opinion that the worst part about the fandom is the fan opinions and expectations out of a new series, and the expectation that a formula for a show won't change, or that a character will maintain one set mentality/trope while simultaneously offering new, completely different story arcs. It isn't necessarily impossible to pull off, but it takes very careful planning and execution. And, unfortunately, that has never been a strength in this franchise, even before Disney ownership.

For most shows, it's the season 5 slump. After 5 seasons, all the flavor is gone and any additional seasons are painfully rehashed at best. For all the corporate financial squeezing that's been done to Mando since the beginning of the show to wring out revenue like its a wet washcloth, it really tracks that were in this place after only 3 seasons.

IMO the only thing that's going to save Andor is the fact that the end of the story has already been told in Rogue One and its confirmed that season 2 will end at that point of the timeline. If it was going to be a 3+ season show, I suspect we'd see the same treatment.

Anyway, I'll stop flapping my gums in your ask box. Your hot take encapsulated what felt off about this season to me. I couldn't put words to it, but it just felt....meh.

I just disable reblogs and try not to tag it in an inflammatory way, my gripes are genuinely like. basic semiotics and story sense, I'm not going after anyone's childhood or feel-goodness. This is all me-problems and me-expectations with a massive machine of commerce that will never give a shit lmao

I too wrote a couple of posts back in s2 days expecting something of this sort going forward after the weirdly presumptuous cameo-baiting of s2 and whatever in the goddamn hell boba fett did with its mando tie-ins, but an entire season of tirespinning sure was a surprising choice. I think writing for TV is fundamentally different than writing for film, so I didn't really see a clear parallel of incompetence within the franchise; and especially with season 1 being so solid in balancing both the overarching and the episodic stuff I felt like they had a neat ramp to milk a decently long character piece out of.

But I can't help but feel like my main problem with the disney/abrams/filoni/favreau era of star wars is its irrationally strong love for the aesthetic. it blinds them to good choices that will then make for interesting stories. gently deradicalizing, humanizing, and then literally AND figuratively getting din out of his shell so he could open up to a child's love could be such an effective, simple to parse, and wholesome core to structure the series around, but that would upend the aesthetic of their cowboy-ass romp a bit too fast and have an end and an identity and all that non-marketing friendly stuff. so they keep withholding his psyche, they keep giving then taking clear communication tools away from grogu, they keep teasing their bond but never outright stating it (I cannot believe after 3 seasons he still hasn't just looked at the baby and directly confessed he loved him), so they can keep bumping those goalposts back and forth while pretending it's progress. because they are in love with the aesthetic.

again, this is my main problem, I don't see this as a problem writ large or even something that represents a wrong way to do star wars. who the hell even knows how you treat a franchise that large at this point, what importance you assign to aesthetic vs. story, all that jazz. I don't know. they're the ones with the analytics data, so they definitely know better. and maybe that's the saddest part

[thebiscuiteternal]

(For @tavina-writes)

Okay, so! There are basically two professions that I hardcore headcanon for a modern!Huaisang, and those are either animal rescue or art restoration.

This is my attempt at a coherent timeline/set of notes for the latter. (feat possibilities for Sangyao and Nielan, but the hints are so very faint so I won't bother tagging them).

---

As in most of my modern AUs, the Nies are known for positions of strength. Bodyguards, security details, military, athletes, etc. 

Growing up, Mingjue is no exception. Between excellent grades and top scores in school athletics, his future seems to be set for him. 

Huaisang is a bit more of a problem child, but for reasons outside of his control.. He was born with a heart problem and undersized lungs, and is eventually diagnosed with chronic fatigue and ADHD on top of those. 

He can't participate in school sports and he has to take medications just to stay awake in his classes. (And sometimes skips taking them, because with all the attention on his big brother, it's not like anyone cares if he passes.)

The two classes Huaisang does actually put effort in are art and history, so Mingjue makes his baby bro a promise that if Huaisang tries to bring home good grades in the others, he'll make sure that there are always art supplies for him and will help him enter competitions. Once he's got a few prizes of his own, maybe the rest of the family will look kinder on him.

It works! For a while, both their futures are looking bright.

And then just after Mingjue graduates and starts getting ready for university, their father suddenly dies of a misdiagnosed heart condition (which Huaisang immediately gets tested for, because of his known heart issues). 

With Huaisang's mother dead and no one being able to reach Mingjue's mother, they are shipped off to distant relatives.

Mingjue considers putting off university for his brother's needs, but Huaisang throws a fit at the idea. So they agree that Mingjue will pick a school close to home and they will keep in touch constantly. It'll be fine!

About halfway through their first year separated, Mingjue notices his brother's texts are turning weird. Almost like they're in code. And when he figures out the code, he realizes that things are not going well. Huaisang talks about missed doctor visits and their cousins repeatedly breaking his forearm crutches and their aunt and uncle blaming him for it every time and threatening to pull him out of school if he doesn't shape up.

Seething, Mingjue immediately looks into filing for custody of his brother. It's not easy, but he manages to get them set up in one of the family housing dorms and arranges for Huaisang to take remote classes. He takes care to make sure that his exams and Huaisang's medical visits don't clash. They'll manage.

All the art competitions pay off, and two years after Mingjue graduates, Huaisang is offered a full ride to a high rank art school, majoring in art restoration/conservation. The area's a bit expensive, but between their inheritance and Mingjue's new job bodyguarding a big name politician, they can afford it. Like before, they live out of family housing and Huaisang does as much of his schooling remotely as he can (except for studio work and labs, of course).

Despite his health problems occasionally trying to screw him over, and the fact that he still struggles with classes outside his realm of interest, Huaisang manages to get out with excellent marks and a portfolio that immediately gets him snapped up by museum director Lan Qiren.

There’s still one big problem, though. Their jobs will mean even more time apart than they had to deal with during their schooling, and whether they like it or not, Huaisang is going to need someone to help him when his brother can't. 

So they hire a live-in nurse/aide, Meng Yao (recently graduated, double major in nursing and accounting, and in need of work) who looks after Huaisang at home and accompanies him to work with Lan Qiren's permission.

In fact, once Lan Qiren learns that Meng Yao has an accounting degree to go with his nursing degree, he also offers him a job working with the museum's grant department. He says it's to keep Meng Yao from getting bored and potentially being a nuisance (like one of his nephews' boyfriends) while staying by Huaisang's side, but he genuinely does think Meng Yao does good work.

Both Nies are fully supportive of the idea, so Meng Yao accepts because of course he's not gonna say no to an extra paycheck as long as it doesn't interfere with his original job.

So things have finally settled into a pretty comfortable existence for the three of them, aside from the occasional annoying museum donor, like Meng Yao’s biological father (who's pretty much only a donor for the tax break but still thinks it gives him license to make demands about how the museum runs). Huaisang always, always makes sure to shoot him a quick warning text to stay scarce if Jin Guangshan shows up, and Lan Qiren will take the time to keep an eye on Huaisang's health during those tours/meetings because he knows and understands their situation.

A few side bits:

Huaisang is still kinda-sorta the face of the restoration labs. Some people get weird about his crutches or Meng Yao always being close by in case of emergency, but for the most part, everyone's too distracted by his pretty face and enthusiasm to care. He hates galas and other big events though, because even with Meng Yao’s help, he usually ends up exhausted and disoriented by the end of the night.

Mingjue does his best to meet them for lunch at least one day a week. If Huaisang's having a good health day, they have a set of favorite restaurants to choose from, if not, the museum has a pretty damn good little cafe.

Huaisang and Meng Yao have both taken note of the fact that Mingjue turns interesting shades of red whenever the director's older nephew happens to be there at the same time as one of his visits. They haven't yet finalized a plan for how to deal with this, but they're working on it.

[velvetwarfare]

fuck it here’s the alternative universe one too

this one goes by bethanne/beth/bethany. does not goes by betty. strictly dnd/cos. I can always write her here, but unlike betty’s lore which jumps around timelines, hers is strictly cos based. mainly because once you enter barovia, good fucking luck getting out at that point GDHCBVB

- despite her appearance and strength, she’s the most watered down version of betty. a lot more rational, gentle, and empathetic. a gentle giant.

- looks like she’ll kill you. is actually a cinnamon bun. takes after her late mama andréa. very mama bear oriented. tries to reconcile with words over violence first. usually just tired all the damn time. has her feral moments.

- not to say she’s a pushover though oh my god no she’s the party’s tank and has done INSANE shit to people who fuck with her ‘pack’. her strength is 24 and intimidation has a +4. zealot barbarian as myrkul’s (god of necromancy and the undead) death knight, oathbreaker because she told kelemvor to go fuck himself and he killed her for that. this one has told MULTIPLE gods to go fuck themselves. she and betty share the same distinct hatred toward authority, anyone who disrespects the undead, and the gods. this one is the true advocate for the undead as she walks as not entirely myrkul’s vengeance toward the disrespect, but as his patience and gentleness toward death. our myrkul is homebrewed to be a shepherd of souls as opposed to his early days where he was a downright menace lmao dude just wants to not be forgotten as a god and she walks in his footsteps in order to keep him in existence.

- this bitch. looks like a tank. her arms are GUNS. it takes the ENTIRE PARTY to pull her away. if you get punched by her, you’re going to the ER. she’s so scared of holding tiny creatures because she doesn’t want to accidentally hurt them. think of striga from castlevania, same build and accent, just deeper.

- she often hides in the shadows. not to be shady, she’s just ashamed of her appearance. she doesn’t want to scare people. it’s just how the Nosferatu strand works. betty can cast illusionary spells — beth knows no magic. her faith and weaponry are the closest to magical ties.

- heavy female lean. basically a lesbian. she will occasionally flirt and bed other people, but she’s very committed to trying win cassandra’s heart. since our campaign is entirely homebrewed cause the og cos is pretty fUCKING BAD LOL it’s now LGBT friendly without all the racism and sexism and strahd being a degenerate. still extremely dark. our strahd was gender bent — cassandra strahd von zarovich. it’s my favorite trope ever because not only are these two hot vampire lesbians but it’s beauty and the beast. cass is an extremely attractive noble and baroness who committed herself to vampirism as a young vistani in order to save her family. the court murdered her wife and her daughter’s status is unknown. she’s lost in grief and madness after the curse and her intentions are unknown atm. beth is a nosferatu barbarian who wears her enemies’ skulls on her attire who was forced into vampirism when a nosferatu beast slaughtered her entire vistani vardo and bit her. she could’ve went down cass’ path of hatred for the world, but instead she fights out of love. seeks to redeem cass and break her curse. she’s only met cass once after she saved our party and knows she’s been watching the party and has so many questions for the vampiress. beth has been collecting info on her and trying to track her down for a month and a half now because she’s that dedicated in making sure she doesn’t suffer any further as someone who’s in constant suffering herself. they’re two sides of the same coin tbh. I could go on and on about them I’m SO soft for this ship

[nineliabilityrisk]

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You did everything you could.” ( michael and rosa )

" it's not your fault, sweetheart. you did everything you could. "

[[ both my afton boys are getting love today <3 also i uh. decided to interpret this as some weird twisted up timeline thing where rosa is around to comfort michael after jeremys bite because i can NOT get that out of my mind. im sorry it fit too well and i. hm. i promise im entirely normal about michael and his assortment of Problems. ]]

-- [ asked by @khalaesi ] --

It's safe to say at this point that Michael is an absolute wreck. It'd been a week and a half since he'd received that phone call - and, oh boy, what an experience that was, when his father picked up the phone first and the poor manager who was just looking for their night guard's emergency contact ended up in a confrontation with the owner of their entire company - and he'd hardly left his room since. Well, no, that was a lie. He'd gathered up his things, walked to his mom's house, and then shut himself in his room. There was no way in Hell he was going to deal with his father's temper. Not now. Not after the news he'd received. Maybe not ever again, not after this.

He had been on one of his quick kitchen runs, looting the pantry and fridge for just enough food and water to get by before he could make it back into his room and lock himself away again. Rosa's voice startled him, making him drop the cup he'd been holding - luckily it was just one of their shitty plastic ones, and didn't break, just clattered obnoxiously against the tile floor. Fuck, he hadn't even realized she was in the dining room.

Sighing, he didn't bother to pick up his cup, slowly turning to face his mother and brace himself on the counter, resting his weight on his elbows as if he didn't even have the strength to resist gravity's pull any longer. In all honesty, he looked the part, too, with the dark circles under his eyes looking more like black holes, and his long, curled hair that he had always prided himself upon resting on his shoulders in a tangled mess. No doubt, it would mat with only a few more days of neglect and the whole mass would need to be chopped off, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Just as he couldn't find it in himself to care about much else lately, including what used to be the well-managed, oft-shaved scraggly little bits of facial hair he was beginning to grow in. Overall, he looked like a mess. Not that he cared. But he was sure his mother would just look upon him with concern as soon as she truly saw his face, which he really didn't want to deal with right now. He loved her, sure, but the guilt over worrying her was another drop in the already overflowing bucket he was dragging around with him everywhere he went.

"You heard, huh? Who told you? Know it wasn't William, you'd rather die than talk to him again, and, honestly, I would, too. Was it Uncle Henry? Fuck, did I manage to get him dragged into my shit too?" To be fair, Henry was going to be involved no matter what. An employee was killed by one of his and William's inventions in one of their restaurants. He just... Didn't think Henry knew that he and Jeremy had known each other. Hell, he hadn't even thought that his mother knew of Jeremy at all. He thought they had been discreet. Hopefully, none of them were aware of just how close the two had been.

He let out a steadying exhale, unfolding his hands from the counter to hide his face in them for a moment. "That's the problem, I didn't do anything. I sat all nice and safe at home while he went to his shift not knowing that he wouldn't make it back in the morning," he said, trying so, so hard to keep his voice level, but, even still, it broke. Maybe he could write it off as being rusty from disuse.

"This keeps happening." Face finally lifting from his hands, his tired eyes lock with those of his mother. Such a familiar color. For as much as he's said to be a mirror image of his father, he still received his fair share from her, in his own little ways. His eyes, gentle where he could never remember William's to be anything but piercing. His curls, his smile - she was always there with him, just less noticeably than his father was. "First Evan, now... Now Jeremy. And William still acts like he doesn't know where Lizzie ended up, but... There's been too many of these 'accidents.' These animatronics are fucking dangerous, Mom. Why doesn't anyone notice? Why isn't anybody worried?"

Pushing off from the counter, he rounded the corner to the dining room, dragging a chair over to his mother's seat and plopping down next to her, movements sloppy, uncoordinated. He didn't even notice the tears dampening his cheeks until he rested his head on her shoulder, wet face pressing into the soft fabric of her top and eliciting a soft "sorry" from the exhausted boy.

[noblehcart]

what are some of your favorite ships with your oc? -For Liesel and Stefan <3 <3

ORIGINAL CHARACTER QUESTIONS & HEADCANONS @myhiraeth

OKAY SO, I will say this first that what's listed below is in no particular order of most to least. Nor is it all my ships which I adore all of them, but these ships are the ones I get to do/write/talk about most.

SO FIRST OFF WE'RE STARTING WITH YOU SINCE U SENT THE ASK-

JASON & LIESEL- Were our first ship?? AND BOY DOES IT SLAP. I love love Jaseliese for each other because its that sweet niche of misunderstood almost-bad boy and soft nerd girl. They have this fantastic I love you despite what anyone says because we know this love is RARE. I think I will always be able to think of new aus for them because they have new mountains to climb together which make it so much fun and I adore them so much. I feel like they recognize each other's selves in each other (if that makes sense) like if things had worked out differently they could've been each other as well because they're both soft hearted, fierce for those they love and love lit that had things been switched they'd be each other still and value what they see in the other. I just adore them ok ok??

STYXX & LIESEL- ok HERES MY THING THO....how tf did Styxx and Liese meet???? YEAH I DONT KNOW EITHER BUT WE BOTH KNOW THAT THEY WORK. Styxxliese is a match made in heaven. Sheer perfection. What was their first date? IDK. Who kissed who first? IDK? But we do know what their apartment looks like, what their wedding looks like, what they look like together lounging....WE SET UP EVERYTHING ELSE but the beginnings and i fuckin love it. THAT IS WHEN U KNOW IT MESHES. It just *works*. He has enough heart and wisdom and hope in humanity and sees the best of it in her and she sees this kind, wise and hopeful person who has every reason not to be and they just love each other for it.

STEFAN & CERCI- OUR EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED CHILDREN. Ah, steferci, I could write a thesis about but I won't because this would be a ridiculously long post. Stefan and Cerci had that immediate styxxliese like connection that I'm like 99% certain that within 3x of meeting they were already half in love. Their chemistry is off the charts and they're steely walls just melt for each other. I cannot believe how quickly this came together but I am so here for it. He's just turned this emotionally repressed soldier into a puddle for her. They love each other for their flaws and appreciate their strengths and admire in the other what they do not have themselves and its fantastic- I LOVE it.

@lordofthestrix

TRISTAN & LIESEL- They were NOT supposed to be a ship. I went into their interactions with the full intention of 'i'm lucky that he wants to ship with olga and that's all.' and yet here we are deep into the multiverse of alternate universes for these two. I don't know how that happened and I still don't know how Tristan isn't thoroughly irritated with Liesel yet, but here we are with her ready to destroy an imperial family and revolutionize a country to maintain a timeline to save the future she has with him. If that's note love I don't know what is? Tristliese is this wonderfully fun and complex ship that always keeps me on my toes and has been such an amazing delightful ride of creativity.

@paramounticebound

KHAN & LIESEL- Were absolutely not supposed to be a ship on my end of things IDK about you, but for me I absolutely didn't intend for this ship. Everyone wants to ship with a villain and I thought it'd be much more fun to befriend the villain. To see the push and pull of these two very intelligent characters on complete opposite ends of the spectrum....and yet HERE WE ARE. I was so sURE he was going to shoot her out an airlock and we are waist deep in aus and them being ridiculously passionately gravitationally drawn to each other which is so *fascinating* to me. I loove the sharp contrast of his intensity and her softness, his intention and her caution. They're this fantastic polar opposite spectrum of a relationship that is absolutely WONDERFUL. I cannot wait to see where else we take them.

@holyguardian

AERITH & LIESEL- OKAY BUT....this ship has ALWAYS STUCK WITH ME and its the most chaotic and fun thing. Like I never ever expected Liese to have a girlfriend because she swings 98% of the time for the boys, but Aerith has that voodoo and Liesel adores her. SO MUCH. And I know we haven't talked about them *that* much but its something that lives rent free in my brain 24/7 because I just love all the details we pulled out together for them as a couple. How they dress, how they shop, how they take care of each other and its just so WHOLESOMELY CHAOTIC that I had to throw it here in the list <3

@walkingshcdow

RAHADIN & LIESEL- okay so we have had SO MANY ships over the years and especially with Liesel that I can't just pick one from our bajillion so since I know you're mostly dnd oriented I thought I'd toss these two out here. Rahadin and Liesel have such a fantastic slow burn that I absolutely love no matter what AU its in. I think the only AU where they don't slowburn is Selkie au for obvious reasons. Liesel loves the soft soul that is still there willfully beating in his chest and he admires her for managing to keep that same softness in a world like Barovia where there's little compassion to be had. They're a fantastic couple.

[avintagepumpkin]

So I absolutely adore the 10th Doctor, but I hated the episode with The Titanic. It was too campy for such a serious event. So I decided to write my own story, and all characters except The Doctor are my own creations. This is after Rose but before Donna

Trigger Warning- Death ,it's the sinking of the Titanic, so if that story bothers you, don't read further.

Not proofread

PART ONE: The Sinking

Elizabeth watched in horror as she clung to the nearest object she could find. The waves created from the suction were keeping her from fully pulling herself out of the freezing waters. The screams all around her were deafening, and she felt as though her lungs were going to burst. All of her senses were enveloped in the darkness that surrounded her. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, and the only thing warm on her was the stream of tears that coated her face. She could see the faintness of what she thought a lifeboat in the distance, just a glisten of a a torch, but a way out of the horrible situation if she could make it.

The screams were starting to die down, and she knew if she didn't make some kind of move, then she would parish along with everyone else. Gathering every ounce of strength she could, she let go of the piece of wood and started swimming her way towards the light. Its yellow beam seemed to call her and guide her towards it. Her lungs were getting tighter with each stroke, but she kept going leaving the trauma she had just endured behind her.

Her body was on fire, and she wanted nothing more than to rid herself of her clothes but knew that stopping to do so would for sure be a death sentence. She swam and swam for what felt like hours but never was able to reach the light. Her body began to slow down, and she was taking big gulps trying to get any air she could into her burning lungs. Suddenly her arms and legs gave out on her, she couldn't go any further, she knew she was dying and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Finally understanding her fate, she stripped down to nothing, flipping over on her back. She spread her arms and legs and just let the waters float her body to her heavenly destination. She no longer hurt, her body felt a warmth and a glow that made her smile, she felt calm, and with that, she was gone. 03:38am April 15, 1912

"Doctor, are you sure there is nothing we can do to help them?"

His companion Ally stared blankly into the darkness at the people splashing around like salmon floating upstream. Her heart was beating faster than it ever had, and her breath was hard and deep. She couldn't believe what she was watching.

The Doctor had warned her that it wasn't going to be pleasant, but she still insisted on seeing the sinking. She never took into account the lives that were taken with it. She hated herself for even suggesting they go and watch it and, in a way, hated him for not stopping her request.

"This is a fixed timeline Ally, even us being here could alter history if we were to be seen by someone."

"Yea, I dont think we have to worry about that,"

The tears began to flow, and she felt so helpless. She wanted nothing more than to help just one.

Time had a way of dragging on forever, and it felt as if it took hours for the screams and cries to die out. She stared off into the darkness, hoping to see at least some sign of life.

"Ally, we should go, the Carpathia will be arriving very soon. "

"No Doctor just a bit longer, I can't just leave them"

The Doctor sighed, regretting bringing her here. He often forgets that humans only have one heart, so it takes them longer to process emotions, putting his arms around her shoulders, she twisted around and fell into them, sobbing. He gently rubbed her hair and guided her away from the doors. Kissing her forehead and wiping her tears

And with that, they were gone 03:39am April 15, 1912

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Fictober '20 Prompt No. 7 — "Yes I did, what about it?"

Category: Original WIP: Drowning Future Rating: T Timeline: unsure CW: none Word Count: 996 Additional Notes: I was more or less experimenting with this AU for these prompts

***

PART I

The streetlights cut out several hours into the trek down a long stretch of road leading out of Somerwilde. No ceremony, no loud sound to accompany it, just sudden darkness coinciding with the complete lack of moon to provide relief of any kind from the void.

Warren stopped in his tracks and gripped Thrive's arm instinctively. The line of trees beside them became vague shapes reaching, clawing out of the ground toward the stars, begging for visibility.

Without a word, Thrive took Warren's elbow and led him further down the road. Their footsteps crunched against fallen leaves and forest debris, shattered glass from unfortunate vehicles, and remnants of forgotten snow.

A flash of yellow on the horizon with the brief strength of the sun ushered in an eerie glow in the sky and a period of uncomfortable quiet. Warren glanced at Thrive, who continued leading with a concerned eye on the far distance.

"What happened," Warren asked.

Shaking his head, Thrive slid his hold on Warren down to his wrist. "I'm not sure. The eliyi transport ship seems to have gone offline from what I can see down here."

Warren's eyes began to adjust but he made no move to pull himself from Thrive's grip. "What's that mean? Is it over?"

"Unlikely. It could mean they're out of fuel, in which case..."

Adjusting the heavy rucksack on his shoulder, Warren cleared his throat against the steadily rising warmth in his face as a result of Thrive's long fingers drifting absently closer to his own. "Could they get their fuel from us?"

"No. Their ships are powered by a crystallized chemical only found in Andromeda."

Warren almost tripped on something and Thrive's grip tightened to keep him steady. "Uh…so…they're gonna fall out of the sky."

"It's not guaranteed that's what's happened. It was…just speculation."

"Did you take my hand to keep a line of calm between us?"

"Yes, I did. What about it?"

Warren inhaled sharply and tried to keep himself from spouting too much emotion through their touch. "Nothin'. Just…do you…wanna set up camp somewhere? I'm getting tired, and we could use a fire right now."

Later, as the light from their established campfire threw sharp shadows across the trees and frozen ground, Warren watched Thrive pace the perimeter of the clearing. He'd never seemed so agitated, so unsettled by something in the few years he'd been on Earth.

"I'm beginning to think," he said at length, soft enough to be all but drowned out by the gentle wind rustling through the trees, "that we should've stayed at the cabin."

Warren snorted. "Well, it's a little too late for that. Are we about to have another conversation about how you can't protect me and going into Anchorage is something you need to do oh-so-valiantly on your own?"

Thrive turned to him. "You continually insist on staying with me."

Warren bit his lip and lifted the flap of the rucksack in an excuse not to make further eye contact. "Yah…I'm a grown man with autonomy."

To his surprise, Thrive strode to him and crouched down right in front of him. "I'm not going to pretend I can sway you, as knowing you for as long as I have up to this point has made me wise to your absolute reckless regard for your own life veiled under the thin guise of bravery. So I've given up trying and have, instead, prayed with every spiritual fiber of self that you will change your mind and keep safe."

The fog from both of their breath swirled together and Warren's gaze flicked between each of Thrive's emerald eyes, shimmering with frustration and the light of the lapping flames beside them. "You've prayed."

"I haven't prayed since I left Slodia, but damn it, Warren…you cannot lure me into caring for you and then refuse to let me protect you in any way I can."

"Stop talking to me like that."

"Then stop forcing me t—!"

Warren's hand snapped out to clutch Thrive's chin with a fierceness he didn't know he currently possessed. The air around them charged with static and Thrive's eyes flashed with anger but he initially didn't stop him or retaliate in any way.

"To what, E.T.," Warren growled. "You'd better not say anything you don't fucking mean."

He could feel the power roiling through Thrive's skin beneath his fingers. The heat from their proximity cut through the stinging cold of the air, and tension engulfed the entire forest.

"Do you suspect that I could?" Thrive muttered through gritted teeth. "Do you suspect after all of this time and all of my insecurities, after we've shared body and brain, that I could look you in the eye and mean it?" He finally slapped a hand around Warren's wrist. "Would I be lying, Warren?"

"There's no un-saying it. If you say it now, you can't take it back."

"We could die tomorrow." Thrive's face underwent a strange metamorphosis of guarded hostility to exposed worry. "And you're concerned about whether or not I mean it?"

Warren didn't realize his own hand had snaked around to bury fingers in Thrive's golden hair. "Fucking mean it."

Thrive observed his face as if truly seeing it for the first time. He took in every feature, every freckle and eyelash, every line and curve. His hands held his face, thumbs grazing his cheekbones, and for the first time in three years, the heaviness of the world became fully realized. Every moment was not a guarantee. Every breath was a gift. Their coming together was a fluke, a glitch in the universe, and at any moment it could've been fixed. With every unsteady exhale Warren forced out of himself, an inhale could be robbed from him.

"I mean it," Thrive whispered. "I mean it."

Warren kissed him for the hundredth time, but it felt like the first. And through their vulnerable touch in intimacy and in sleep, he made it clear that he meant it, too.