#should I travel with bicycle

[delphi-shield]

:// sᴍᴀʟʟ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ғᴏʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ / ʙɪʟʟʏ.ʙᴜᴛᴄʜᴇʀ

Billy Butcher x Reader smut, hurt/no comfort wc: ~5.2k mdni read on ao3 digging the worms out of my brain real quick since i finally caught up with the boys. idk i think i worked through something personal with this, so like, that's a win for me.

summary: Butcher knows better than to be fucking around with you, but there's 50 quid in it for him if he gets you to call him 'daddy'. Easy money.

content: s4 spoilers, dubcon, butcher's pov, an exorbitant amount of kessler in the first half, age gap, general sleazy behavior, handjob, finger fucking, piv, pussy slapping, some just the tip action, blowjob, mentions of titfucking, degradation, general objectification, public sex, not proofread.

“Makes you realize men have nipples too.”

The bar is packed for a Wednesday night, but Butcher already knows exactly what Kessler is talking about. You’re a ditch lily, sitting tall in this shithole. He turns his head away, pretends he doesn't see the way you lick up a trail of spilled cosmopolitan from the side of your glass, pink tongue parting your lips, eyes half-shut. 

Fucking typical. Kessler could sniff out daddy issues and sadness from a mile away, and he was lethal at half that distance. He could have them wrapped around his finger in the time it took Butcher to take a piss.

His eyes linger. A thing like you doesn't belong in a dump like this. This is the sort of place girls like you stumble into at 1 AM, survey the crowd through the haze of cigarette smoke, and wobble right back out onto the streets, take your chances with the elements rather than the haggard, unfriendly crowd that hunches over their drinks.

Butcher likes Midwest 10's. Begs Kessler to stop ogling barely legal co-eds, says he's not some sleazy cunt in a John Hughes film. He can lie all he wants. If it makes him hard, it makes Butcher hard. 

He glances sidelong at your face. You've got this Christmas-light bright smile that makes his dick jerk. Kessler’s more than under his skin. He’s in his veins, in the same blood that raises his cock up like a goddamn bicycle pump when you lean over the bar, arms squeezing your tits together.

"You could probably fuck 'em." Kessler tips his head to the side, eyes locked on your cleavage. His eyes narrow, lips pursed, evaluating your chest and charting a course for his dick to travel.

"Shut up."

"Huh?"

Fuck. Your tip your head to the side from two seats away, brows pinched together. Cute, in a lost little lamb kind of way.

Butcher's eyes cut to Kessler. He's cocked it all up now. The sly, punchable grin on Kessler’s face turns him back to his drink. He drains his glass and gestures for another. If he doesn’t look at you, if he keeps drinking, this all goes away.

"Nothin'. Don't you worry about it, love."

That should be the end of it, but you’ve clearly got something wrong with you. You fiddle with your purse, pluck up your courage, and drop yourself onto the barstool next to him. Whether you’ve got no sense of self-preservation or you’re just that damn oblivious, he doesn’t intend to get to know you well enough to find out. Butcher's strained smile doesn't do much to smooth the worry lines away.

Kessler chuckles, leans back and props his elbows up on the bar. Cunt just wants to watch him squirm.

"No," Kessler corrects, drawing the word out. "I want you to get some pussy."

His eyes dart over to Kessler, looming over you, hands ghosting up your arms to squeeze your shoulders. He blinks rapidly, rubs at his face, tries to play it off like he's nervous or tired or whatever the fuck but when he looks down, there's your tits again. Butcher lolls his head back to the ceiling. Laugh it up, you fuckin’ cunt.

And Kessler does. Makes a show of slapping his hand on his thigh, head knocked back, grinning toothily.

He tries to ignore you, but you’re straddling that stool next to him in your little skirt and ordering another cosmo. This isn’t the kind of bar for cocktails, and he knows without even seeing the bartender’s eye roll that he hates you.

It's none of his business. He ought to keep himself sat there drowning in his drink ‘til last call and past that, make them throw him out on the street, give him a reason to swing first. It's a better idea than messing with you.

The bartender drops your drink off in front of you and turns before the words ‘thank you’ leave your glossy lips. Another sickly pink cocktail with a dried out lime dropped on top. Butcher can’t help himself. He’s got a soft spot for the clueless.

“Cheery bloke, isn't he?” He says, casting a sidelong glance at the bartender. He taps a finger against the bartop, inclines his head toward your cocktail. “That the only drink you know the name of?”

Your cheeks warm. You hide it behind a hand, turning your face away from him to laugh.

“What? No. I just think they taste good.”

Kessler snorts. “That’s a fat load of shit.”

Butcher agrees. His mouth twists into a half-hearted smile. He slides his glass over to you. 

“Try it,” he insists.

There’s hardly a passing thought for your own safety. You look between his scotch and his face and seem to decide it’s safe to take drinks from strange old fucks in bars. Your fingers brush his when you take the glass, warm and soft - sticky. You must be more sloshed than you look, must keep spilling your drinks. Hell, for all he knows, maybe this place does make the best cosmo in the city. Maybe the bartender just hates your ass because you keep making a mess.

You don’t even ask what he’s drinking. (Maybe this is all a grift, he thinks. Kessler’s at his ear, chuckling - she ain’t bright enough for that.) You lift his glass and leave your lipstick behind.

“Oh my god.” You sputter, pound a fist against your chest. It makes your tits bounce. Fucking miracle your shirt is containing those things. “That tastes like ass.”

“That is the highest quality scotch this bar serves.”

“It tastes like someone put a cigarette out in a glass of whiskey.”

“It’s a shit bar.”

You laugh, head tipped back, nose scrunched - the works. You’re too tipsy for it to be on purpose. Being cute comes naturally to you. Must be how you’ve made it this far.

You pass his drink back and scoot your cosmo closer to you, spilling it as the glass skips over the pock-marked countertop. Butcher snorts, dabs it up for you with his sleeve. He’s starting to think his theory about the cosmopolitans might hold true.

“Well, here, a trade’s a trade.” He takes your drink by the stem (fucking amazed they even have martini glasses in this place) and pounds back a mouthful.

It isn’t that bad, but he makes a show of scrunching his nose and shaking his head. He slides your drink back over to you and mirrors the way you had clung to your drink.

“You’re kidding,” you laugh. “It’s better than yours. I don’t know how you drink that.”

“I’ll keep my liquid ashtray, thanks.”

Your eyes are all lit up when you smile, but it emphasizes the raw edges, the puffiness that lingers. Rough night for you, by the looks of it. Not like he’s having much of a better one.

There’s no harm in it. No harm in showing you what a proper drink tastes like, broadening your horizons and helping you both forget what a shit hand you’ve been dealt. He buys you a drink on the condition that you try something that isn’t a cosmopolitan. You can hardly stomach a whiskey and coke. He orders you a fernet and coke for shits and giggles, expects you to spit it out like all the rest, barks out a laugh when you declare it’s tasty, notes of lavender drawing you in. Notes of lavender - Christ, what fucking suburb did you pop out of? 

He introduces you to more drinks, leans closer with each empty glass. You're new here, you tell him. You tell him your name, too, not that he remembers. Got stood up on some shitty date. He knows it’s got to be shitty because what idiot in his right mind would take you here, of all places?

By the time he orders you both shots of Rumple Minze, you’re pressed shoulder to shoulder. Your hand splays against his chest, head leaning against him. You lift his shot to his lips for him and he’s too drunk to find it childish and irritating. He downs it and does the same for you, watches you extend that pretty neck to drink it down.

“I’ll get you a cab,” he slurs, rocking unsteadily to his feet.

“I already called an Uber.”

Jesus. It’s a struggle not to roll his eyes. Fucking kids. Allergic to one night stands, couldn’t take a hint to save their life. Even Kessler is on his side, his head thunking against the bartop.

It's for the best, he thinks, trying to curb his disappointment. He's got shit to do. Ryan to worry about. Kessler's a right cunt, pushing him to you. He hasn't got the time to be fucking about. This entire thing had been a waste of time, too busy trying to get his dick wet to make the most of what he’s got left.

Butcher stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat, steps back, ready to split and stumble his way back home. He nods quick and sharp, tight-lipped smile to keep his frustration locked behind his teeth.

You show him your phone, make him squint to see what he’s supposed to be looking at. “My Uber is still a couple minutes away, so…”

Kessler picks his head up from the bar. He's a bloodhound for pussy. He picks up the leading edge in your voice before Butcher’s even done parsing your words.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Kessler drones. “You can’t even get it up, can you?”

“I’m damn well going to try.”

“What?” You laugh, swaying on your feet.

Butcher wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you against his side. “Nothin’. Don’t you worry about it. I’ll keep you company. Make sure no nasties try to get you.”

The cold outside is bracing. You wrap your arms tight around yourself and this time Butcher’s too drunk to pretend he isn't staring at the way your tits press together.

It’s your idea. Really. The way you look up at him, the way your lips stay parted while the pair of you pace the sidewalk. You wrap your hand around his bicep and squeeze, eyes drifting slowly to the side, to the alleyway just a few strides away.

See? It’s your idea, honest. He drags you behind a dumpster, pins you to the wall of the alley, and shoves his tongue down your throat, yeah, but you moan so fucking loud and drag him closer. It takes longer than he'd like for your hand to stop massaging his chest and start fondling his cock, but you're a sweet girl - don't seem the type to do this too often. Need some guidance.

Butcher lays his hand atop yours, wraps your fingers tighter around his bulge. Your breath hitches, your eyes flicking down to your hand, mouth popped open - got this sweet, vacant little look in your eye.

He'd bet real money you go dumb for cock.

“$50 says you can get her to call you ‘daddy’,” Kessler pipes up, leaning against the wall next to you. He tips a cigarette into his mouth, cups a hand around to light it, and Butcher swears the light from his zippo gleam in your eyes. He doesn’t doubt it. Seems cruel, though, especially when he can’t remember your name.

“What was your name again?”

It takes a bit for you to get dick off your mind and fish around for your name. You mumble, make him lean in close and tilt his head to get you to say it again, clearer.

You're the obedient sort. Pick up on cues so easy. Don't even make him ask for it again. He pats your cheek, smirk creasing his face.

By your side, Kessler flashes a crisp $50. He plucks it taut, fans himself with it, makes a real show of being a dick while you try to take Butcher's out of his pants.

At the end of the day, 50 quid is 50 quid.

“How ‘bout you ask daddy for permission, sweetheart?”

Your mouth moves wordlessly.

“Please?”

He clicks his tongue. “That’s real polite. But it ain’t what I asked for, is it?”

“Can I please play with your cock, daddy?”

“Better.”

Kessler slips the fifty into Butcher’s coat pocket while you fumble with his belt and free him from his pants. You lay his cock in the seam of your hands, cupping him like he’s a gift on two legs. You stroke him reverently, look up at him with big, thoughtless lamb eyes.

Your heart’s in it, but you’re too reserved for his taste. He grips your hand in his and guides you down his cock, shows you when to squeeze, when to twist your wrist, how to flick your thumb over the slit of his tip.

He can never make it last when he drinks. Should have warned you before he came on your pretty skirt, but you’ve got a natural talent for stroking dick. He keeps his groan locked up tight. It rattles through his chest and he leans into you, crushing you against the wall of the alley. His hips stutter and rut into your hand, still wrapped around him, coaxing every drop from his tip. You still toy with him while he tries to catch his breath. He’s got to push away from you with a mumbled “Christ, all right, that’s enough.”

It’s like he’s taking your favorite toy away. You pout up at him, hand still molded for his cock by your side, by the skirt his ruined with his cum. He almost gets an apology out, but you drag a finger through his mess and bring it to your lips, make a show of licking it up.

His chest aches. He isn’t sure if it’s the tumor or his heart desperately trying to pump enough blood down to his dick to get him up again.

Butcher crams two fingers into his mouth and scrapes the dirt from beneath his nails with his teeth. The rest is a blur. He knows that he kicks your feet apart, traces your slit through your panties before he pushes them to the side and finger fucks you until your head snaps back against the wall. It’s quick, messy - leaves his forearm soaked. He’s not so sure that was real, but he’s too drunk to figure it out, too gone ask.

He tucks himself back into his pants. You set your panties back in place, skirt still hiked up to your ribs. You slip a little lower down the wall, panting. He stops you before you can slip all the way down, pats your cunt, and tugs your skirt back into place.

“Let’s get you a cab, eh?”

That’s the last thing he remembers clearly. You’d missed your Uber, had to take a cab with him anyway. He remembers you leaning against him, tucked up against his side, hand stroking his chest. He’d pet your hair - soft as lamb’s wool - and whispered nonsense against your head just to get a laugh out of you. After you get out, the whole thing’s blank.

When Butcher wakes up at 2 PM the next day, choking on his own vomit, he can't find the 50 quid. He turns his jacket inside out searching for it. A scrap of paper with your number scrawled on it falls from his jacket pocket. He doesn’t spare it more than a glance and keeps digging for his wallet.

Lambs lose their appeal after the flying cunts nearly bit his cock off.

That farm had been dirty business. Wicked stuff, the kind that doesn't wash off. This work always has been, but this time the blood doesn't come out from under his fingernails. He tastes bile every time he breathes. The copper twang of blood trickling down the back of his throat is the only chaser he gets anymore.

He doesn't think of you often. He knows it'd break your little heart to hear it, have you looking up at him with those ‘fuck me, I'm sad’ eyes and that little girl pout that makes him feel every bit the lech he is. You’re a sweet thing. Vacant, just like him. It didn’t take long to piece that together.

You’re easy and malleable, quick to fit yourself around him in whatever way he demands. He liked that about you at first.

But when he calls on you at three in the morning for a quick lay and you answer the door in a full face of make-up, hair done and wearing the sort of nightgown that no one actually sleeps in, all he feels is distaste.

You let him crowd you against your couch (a neutral color, no blanket in sight, your living room just as blank as the rest of you) without so much as a ‘hello’. You hook a leg over his hip. No panties, he realizes, eyes locked on your drippy cunt, already flushed. Been touching yourself to the thought of this. He warms a little at the thought.

Butcher wedges his knee between your leg and grinds. Any warmth you’d kindled with wet pussy dissipates the moment you moan so goddamn loud, the sound hollow and plastic. He keeps his leg still, flexes his thigh for you to grind on. His jaw tightens. He nearly shoves his fingers in your mouth to keep you from making those stupid fucking noises.

You let him twist you up however he wants, more a posable toy than a person. He pushes you further along the couch until your back arches awkwardly against the arm. You don't protest. Of course you don't.

His thick fingers trail down your slit, part your slick folds for his inspection. He sways back on his haunches, admires the pretty way he's got you arranged, pinned open on his fingers for him.

He brings his hand down sharply on pussy once, twice - and the third time directly to your clit is just because you kept making that annoying fucking noise. That nasally, porn-star whine that drills him between the eyes and makes his hard-on flag. The way you twitch and jerk at each hit might be genuine but that fucking noise drives him up a wall. Christ, there's got to be something about you that's real.

Pussy’s real. Can’t fake that, he thinks.

“Stay right there,” he says, a bite to his voice when you try to shift against him again. If you could just lay there and take it - is that so much to ask for?

He guides himself to you, hips rocking experimentally. You suck his head in and his chin dips to his chest. He groans deep. It turns to a growl when you raise your hips. He lays his forearm against you, pressing you down - and that moan might have been real.

“Can't you do fucking anything right?” He snaps. His hips push forward, bullying himself deeper into you. You suck a breath through your teeth, your hand bracing against his forearm. “I told you to stay right there.”

A spark of indignation flickers in your eyes, flash-fire flushed out by the same pitiful little lamb wool you pull back over your eyes. Makes you look all downy, plush and fuckable - he's fished more respectable shits from the toilet.

You’re a good girl for a few more shallow thrusts, lay there just like he wants while he works himself to the hilt. He finds his rhythm sloppily, one knee propped on the couch, the other foot planted on the floor. Your tits bounce with every thrust and he’s stupid enough to take his hands off of you, trust you not to move while he gropes at your breast.

Immediately you rise to your elbows, try to arch your back deeper. He’s positive you’re trying to mimic some video, down to the exact angle of your spine, but your heart isn’t in it. His cock butts against your walls, shallower than before, the pleasure that had been tearing through his blood coming to a screeching halt. He hisses through his teeth, grinding out his frustration.

“Don't –” his shoves you back down, hand flattening against your cheek and pushing your face into the couch. Feels fucking awful any other position. “–fucking move. Don't fucking move. Trying to cum. Goddammit.”

Your hands curl into fists by your head. You hide your face, press it deeper into the cushion and he presses your face deeper to help you. The noise you make is pitiful, but at least it's real.

Fucking hell. Now he’s completely out of it. You’ve gone and fucked up pussy for him. He didn’t think that was possible. He can’t find the angle he needs, can’t get back to that gummy spot that make his vision blur.

He pulls out and flips you onto your stomach, ignoring the little whine you make. You don’t raise your hips - god forbid you take a fucking hint - so he sits you up for him and wedges his dick back in. It only takes a few thrusts for him to realize this is worse. Tighter, dry, chafing his dick like goddamn sandpaper.

“Your cunt shrivel up or something? Feels fucking terrible.”

He snatches your wrist, pulls your arm back at an angle that makes you cry out, and fills your palm with lube. Can't even get wet on your own. Fucking Christ, he's got to do everything for you. Even has to curl your fingers around his cock, drag your hand back and forth until you final get the big, swinging fucking hint and jerk him off.

He meant to stuff himself back into your cunt, but at this point your hand will do. Six one way, half a dozen the other. At least your hand doesn't chafe.

You’re silent now. Small mercies. The only sounds are the slick of your palm working him over and his labored breaths. Your hand is clumsy at this angle, but he’s not going to risk letting you move and fuck it all up again.

Once he’s close, he drops your hand and flips you onto your back again. A big hand presses your knees apart, opens you up for him. You're still so pliable, even if the sheen is gone from your cunt. You try to fix your hair. If he notices the tears brimming your eyes, he doesn't say anything.

He lines himself back up with your cunt, dragging himself through your folds. Your knees knock closer with each pass of his bright red tip over your clit. He taps it once with his cock, expecting another produced moan to rattle the walls, but you only whimper, your thighs trying to close around him.

Butcher smirks. He pumps himself into you, keeps himself shallow - just the tip past your puffy lips. 

You whimper, try to shuffle down and take more of him. Butcher’s hand grips your face, squishing your cheeks so hard it stings.

“Don't you fucking move,” he grits out. You used to take instruction so well. Now you've gotten all up in your own head. Nobody likes an uppity bitch, he ought to make you see that.

What he really ought to do is make you get down there and jerk him off. Your hand is still slicked, but you'd probably piss yourself at the chance. Instead, he pushes your knees damn near up to your ears and barks for you to hold your own legs. Your hands curl around the backs of your knees. There you go. Figuring it out again.

His hand strokes his dick quick and hard, one hand dedicated to keeping himself just inside you. It doesn't take long for him to cum. It’s a slow burn that seeps up through his belly, lattices up his ribs and congeals in his chest, makes him ache and cave over your body while his hips sputter. He squeezes himself dry, pumps his cum into your pussy until it flows past his tip and seeps down onto your couch. 

Butcher lingers over you, catching his breath. He’s already gone soft, his cock dropped out of you. He sits back against the opposite arm of the couch, splays himself out while you curl up.

Something burns in his chest - remorse, maybe. You’re all curled up against your couch, cheek cushioned on your arm - won’t look at him, don’t paw at him or lean against his side, don’t even reach to clean yourself up.

His head knocks back to the ceiling. He can’t be bothered to pull answers out of you. He reaches for the tissue box on your coffee table, plucks a handful, and cleans himself off.

He tosses the box back to the coffee table and shoves his boots back on, barely taking the time to lace them up properly. He scoops he coat up from where you’d shucked it onto the floor, buttons himself back up, and you still haven’t moved. His eyes linger on you for a moment, brow set low.

Can’t be bothered, he reminds himself. He runs a hand through his hair and makes for your door, boots thunking heavily against your floors.

“Can I see you again?”

You’ve managed to pick your head up when he glances back at you. You sound so desperate it's pitiful. His lip curls. He runs a hand over his head, looks anywhere but you.

Christ, even your apartment is blank and devoid of personality. He hadn't noticed it before, too consumed with the need to get between your thighs. He shrugs, and gives you a lifeless smile.

“We'll see.”

Butcher closes your door behind him and hurries down the hall. He turns the corner to see Kessler’s cheshire grin greeting him in the dark of your stairwell.

He ought to get right with you before his time comes. He isn't proud of the way things ended. Butcher’s a right bastard, but he isn't blind; he'd seen the look on your face, the hopeful shine in your eyes dulling when he'd left you there without so much as a ‘cheers, love, thanks for the rub’.

He doesn't bother texting you. He's already posted up outside your apartment. Giving you a heads up would only give him time to pussy out.

Besides, you're home. He knows it. You’re piss-easy to track. Home to work, work to home, same route, same time. It will be easy to knock on your door, get his closure, and slip out of your life for the last time.

It should be easy. He’s had harder conversations with people who meant more to him but he keeps staring at your door, trying to will himself to knock. He’s not that weak yet. He can still raise his hand.

Butcher turns to leave just as you open the door. His shoulders tense when you call out to him.

“Billy?” You blurt out. There’s genuine surprise there.

“I just thought I’d –” He turns to catch a glimpse of you and it sends him headlong into silence.

You look a right mess. No face isn’t done up, an oversized t-shirt draping off your shoulders. Your pajama pants are fluffy, snowflake print - tackiest thing he’s seen in a while. 

You duck your head down, trying to catch his eye. 

“You okay?” You hook your thumb over your shoulder. “Want to come in?”

He doesn’t. Not even a little. He wants to rip the band-aid off, forget he ever met you and let you get on with your life - whatever it is you do. But you step to the side and fix him with a weak little smile that he thinks might be real, and his feet take him in through the door.

It’s a nice place in the daytime, he realizes. Natural sunlight, open floorplan, your shelves crowded with plants and knick-knacks he’s never seen. You offer him a drink, laugh when he says water and fall quiet when he insists.

You hand him his drink and collapse onto your couch. Your legs kick up onto your coffee table, and for the first time he realizes your socks are fuzzy, too. He looks around, scans you from head to toe. Is this the right place? He keeps picking at his nails, trying to free the grime from under them.

Once you realize he’s baffled, you’re merciful enough to start the small talk. It’s awkward and stilted - his fault, his answers halting and quick. You give him grace, sip on your drink. Your laughs never quite reach your eyes, but you scoot closer to him on the couch anyway.

“Why are you really here, Billy?” Your hand settles on his thigh and curls inward.

It’s not how he wanted this to go, but he doesn’t stop you from sliding your hand higher while he chokes on his words. You’ve got his belt undone by the time he manages to string a sentence together.

“I've been a right cunt to you.”

“Mhm.”

“You don't got to put up with it, yeah?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Got your whole life right ahead of you.”

“Uh-huh.”

Fucking Christ, could you give him more than a noise? A few moments ago you’d held a conversation with him.

His irritation is snuffed out by your lips wrapping around the tip of his cock and sucking hard. Your hand pumps his shaft, twisting your wrist on the way back up. Good God, you learn quick.

Butcher could spoil you rotten if he had the time. He could get you whatever you wanted - if ever you wanted for anything. He cups a hand over the back of your head, encouraging, not guiding.

You’re methodical. You let your hand work what your mouth won’t reach, fondle his balls with the other one. It’s clinical. You’ve committed the moves to memory, when to swirl your tongue, hollow your cheeks, when to moan around him, when to look up at him with those tears straining at your waterline.

He finishes quick, his chest heaving. You pass him his water while you reach for a tissue box. He drains it and nearly misses you spitting his cum into a tissue, wadding it up and tossing it into the bin.

“I haven’t got much time left,” he says, breathless.

Your brow creases. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, your lips swollen. “What?”

“I’ve got this –” he gestures nebulously with a hand, like he’s trying to pluck the right words out of the air. “– thing. In my brain, see? Inoperable. So, if I up and vanish on you, it ain’t personal.”

You stay silent, stone faced. He wishes you’d say something. Even one of the irritating platitudes people like to parrot would be better than this. Your eyes harden. You purse your lips, breathe deep, and stand from the couch.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Billy. It was good to see you.”

Butcher’s still trying to catch his breath. He tucks himself back into his pants, a mess he’ll clean up later, and rises unsteadily. You don’t reach out to help. He makes another nebulous gesture towards you, his hand quivering.

“You want me to..?”

“Nah. Don’t strain yourself.”

He stuffs himself back into his coat, watching your eyes linger - maybe realizing for the first time how much slighter he’s looking. Butcher pats your cheek gently as he passes by.

You don’t ask to see him again. For your sake, he hopes this is the last time.

[swimmingelectron]

And firebenders can tweak the electric signals in someone's body-

But this made me think. Waterbenders can control water molecules and can bend anything the water will bring along. That is why they can bend blood. But waterbenders are also capable of NOT picking up objects that the water is carrying. So they can also dehydrate people, flood their lungs, flood their bladder, flood their digestive track, in turn giving someone diarrhoea, they can give someone a cough and a cold by increasing the volume of their mucus.

This means waterbenders would make great medics, btw. Any water is potable water. Everything is a water container. The most powerful water bender should be able to turn water into ice or steam, access groundwater in the deserts, and be able to make canals and streams.

The earth bender can bend a select range of minerals, but if they work really hard on it, they can bend any of them. Like toph did.

Strong earthbenders should be able to manipulate the very structure of molecules of the minerals so that they can sit on top of one another in a way that makes them pliable, malleable, strong, springy, etc to form the right shape and the right type of earth.

Like the water benders, they have the ability to add pressure and also control the movement of the rocks. Boomi and Toph already demonstrated what crazy fighters earthbenders can make. But i also think about how easily they can poison someone, oversalt them (dehydration 2.0), and calcify organs while the person is alive. They can cause bone cancer, they can break teeth, crush bones to powder, and puncture the internal organs. Manipulate bones did not even cover it.

They could manipulate armour to move to fight wars for the country. They could set flintstone fires without being there. They could weave metal into fabric. So many possibilities. I'm not even mentioning the industrial use, i believe LoK covered that?

Air benders and fire benders are different. Fire bending is easier to cover on an atomic level.

So they can bend heat, basically, right? But also, for some reason, they can channel electricity. The conclusion i am coming to is that they have command over the kinetic energy of individual electrons. That is why it is hard to master.

But this opens possibiliti3s. So i joked that they could modify the electric signals in the brain, but they literally could. But they can do so much more. Because this isn't atomic, it is subatomic. Yes, they can heat (and cool) things. Yes, they can use electricity. But if they can move electrons? So much more. They can change the properties of things. I can't even begin to list them. They can cut things, they can mend things seamlessly, and they can perform alchemy, changing the very structure of the atom. But that means it is an extremely volatile ability. Even the strongest bender would have to work these things one at a time or risk radiation.

Lastly, we have airbenders. There's two things that could be manipulating just air. One, they can move only free atoms. Which actually fits in with the heirarchy of molecular bonds of earth bender, molecules of water benders, airbenders with free atoms, and firebenders with subatomic electrons.

The other one would be the ability to create vacuums in space, and the air follows the small vacuums. Seeing how rigorously airbenders train, that seems the likely option despite the harmony from the other one. And then, the air bicycle is not possible. Which means. The airbenders just were into aesthetics and acting like a cult. Oh well, that's ok.

Aang has proven that airbenders can lift things with air. Heavy, dense things. They can probably aerosolise any atoms. Basically, they could pick atoms to put next to each other and let them form molecules. Airbending air out of lungs is probably the easiest thing. They can literally travel to space and make their own space suit. Out of air. Their scuba diving gas tank can be made out of literal air.

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 1 - Sous le ciel de Paris

MASTERPOST | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Welcome to the start of my new multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Please note that while I do have a plotted outline, I will be posting chapters as I write them, and I expect that process to take quite a few months. Please bear with me! This first chapter sets up the story - reader moving to Paris in the summer of 1939 and bonding with her new flatmate, Eloise Bridgerton. Please note that Benedict won't be turning up for a couple of chapters yet. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

August 1939

Emerging from the underground Trocadero metro stop, you round the corner of the recently completed, gleaming Palais de Chaillot and stop dead in your tracks. There before you is the most iconic landmark of Paris. Perhaps all of France.

La Tour Eiffel. 

Breathtaking in its metallic magnificence, glowing in the setting sun. A sight that buoys your travel-weary soul seven days after you left New York: boats and trains finally bringing you to this wondrous spot. A light breeze even dances over your neck in greeting, a balm from the cloying subterranean heat of the metro. 

It's a light elbow check to your arm that pulls you back from a state of reverie. 

“A beautiful sight, but one you’ll get used to,” your uncle Robert chuckles, shaking your heavy leather case to indicate it's time to move along. “In fact, I've been told you will be able to see it from your appartement…” 

He has accompanied you to Paris and will see you settled into your new adventures before continuing on to visit friends in England. He spent the roaring 20s living right here in the 16th arrondissement himself and, indeed, has arranged for you to share living quarters with a young British lady, a relative of his English friends. It's a comfort to know you’ll have at least one English speaker to chat with as you dive headfirst into learning proper French as you go.

Robert leads you away from the amazing sight and into the bustling streets, alive with cars, trams, bicycles and pedestrians buzzing in all directions. It's all at once like New York City, but yet so different as well, cafe terraces filling the wide pavements with all manner of people gathered to sip robust cafe au lait and refreshing limonade. 

Within minutes, you are on a quieter side street and stopping outside a handsome honey-coloured stone facade with wrought iron window balconies and window guards, teaming with colourful, fragrant flowering pots. The number 14 gleaming white on a traditional navy blue tile. Your uncle pushes the enormous wooden door open, beckoning you into a cool whitewash wall corridor with mosaic floor tiles.

“Ahhh, Robert!!” a sophisticated middle-aged lady bustles from a nearby doorway and greets your uncle warmly, kissing both cheeks. It would appear they are friends of old.

“Y/n, this is Madam DuLac, your landlady,” he explains as you offer a handshake, admiring her boucle jacket and chic bun.

“Qu’est-ce?” she signals with a good-natured frown, obviously finding your polite greeting lacking, pulling you into a hug and two-cheeked kiss. She smells like Chanel perfume, cigarettes and baked goods. “You are in Paris now, ma chérie; this is how we greet one another,” she counsels in heavily accented but perfect English.

“You speak English?” you sigh, relieved, your French decidedly lacking.

“Bien sûr,” she smiles. “And please call me Solène,” she adds with a friendly smile.

“Eloise should be home from the library maintenant; the perfect time for you to meet,” she gestures towards an elevator cage surrounded by a sweeping grey marble staircase.

“I think I would prefer to take the stairs,” you admit, nerves flaring at the idea of such a contraption.

Your uncle laughs. “Well, I am taking it; I am not hefting this case of yours up five flights of stairs,” he adds dryly as you gaze up the swirling stairwell.

“Five storeys?” you squeak.

“The view is the best from the top,” Solène advises as she rattles back the cage entry and steps in, looking at you expectantly. 

Reluctantly, you follow, all three of you and your luggage crammed into the metal cage as it jerks to life and begins its ascent.

“You will get used to it,” Solène smiles as she reads the apprehension on your face, your vice-like grip on your small vanity case and handbag.

Luckily, the lift reaches your destination safely. One shudder before it stops, and the door concertinas back in Solène’s hand to reveal a sweeping hallway with doors left and right. 

“Ici,” she signals, the last door on the right-hand side.

But before you can knock, the door peels open, and a pretty, petite brunette jumps in surprise, dropping the book she is holding.

“Pardon,” she offers in perfect accented French, and you wonder for a split second if it is the correct apartment.

“Eloise, this is y/n,” Solène gestures.

“Ohhh, hello,” she grins, and the whiplash back to a plummy British accent is momentarily confusing. “I was about to go read in the courtyard, thought you might not be turning up today. Anyway… come in, come in!”

You shake her proffered hand as she ushers you into the apartment. Instantly, you feel a warmth spreading in your belly, like you have come home. It's light and airy, with large windows looking out across the Parisian rooftops, and yes, to the left is indeed the Eiffel Tower, still gleaming in the fading evening light. But the place also feels homely, that sort of messy that is lived in, comfortable. A large velvet sofa with tumbling stacks of books around it, a little kitchenette awash with colourful enamel cookware, and a jumble of art deco posters and random paintings adorning the walls. 

“Solène, I don't suppose you've baked any more of those rather delicious madeleines, have you? To welcome my new housemate?” Eloise pipes up with a chipper, conspiratorial wink your way. 

You already like her.

“Effronte!” Solène exclaims with fond exasperation before pausing. “There may be some…”

“I remember those!” your uncle adds with a tinge of nostalgia as he drops your suitcase. “You are in for such a treat, y/n.”

“Well, while our landlady decides if she’s willing to share the treats she has obviously baked but is being coy about…”Eloise raises a pointed eyebrow at the woman before returning to you. “...let me show you your room, then maybe a drink? I'm sure it's been a long journey.”

You nod and, with an exchange of grins, follow her down a corridor. She sweeps open the door to a lovely room, a large double bed with matching bedside tables and a dresser. But best of all, french doors onto a Juliet balcony overlooking a quiet courtyard filled with a riot of birch trees, their leaves gently rustling in the evening breeze.

“Mostly, it’s pesky pigeons down there, but you do get the occasional blackbird singing in the morning,” Eloise smiles as if intuiting your thoughts.

You spend some moments wandering the room and checking out the various fixtures, running idle hands over the furniture, already feeling remarkably at home with your new housemate and, indeed, your new home for the next twelve months.

“I'm just next door,” Eloise reveals, pointing a thumb over her shoulder. 

Your uncle appears in the doorway to announce that he and Solène are off to catch up as you unpack and suggests you all reunite for dinner later at a local bistro. It all sounds so very Parisian chic; you cannot wait.

“So tell me about yourself,” Eloise flops onto your bed, already wonderfully casual in your presence, as you open your case and the wardrobe to unpack.

“I’m y/n. I'm from a little town on Long Island called Patchogue, about fifty miles outside New York City. I'm 22…”

“Me too!” she interjects, then signals for you to proceed.

“I wanted to see the world before I settled down. And I’ve dreamed of living in Paris since I was a little girl...” You feel your eyes misting at the fact it's now finally coming true as you continue. “So my parents agreed to pay for me to come to Paris for a year. Under the strict agreement, I get married when I return…” 

“You have a fiancé?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. Stanley. We practically grew up together, and we’ve been going steady since we were eighteen.”

“Going steady? That's so American,” Eloise chuckles.

You nod with a giggle, then continue. “He hasn't proposed formally yet, says he is saving up for a ‘real nice’ ring, but it will happen. He is the son of my dad’s business partner. They run a construction company. So, while I'm here, they are building a home for us to live in when I return. We will get married next summer and move right in.” 

“You don't mind?” Eloise frowns.

“Don’t mind what?” you query as you hang up your favourite dress.

“That your future is so… plotted out. I couldn't bear the idea. It's why I think my mother let me move to Paris. She was so fed up with me refusing to settle down.” Eloise laughs, idly flicking through the magazine you were reading on your journey.

“I suppose I've never really expected anything else,” you shrug, pausing as you put away your hosiery, but her words make you contemplative. “You don't have a boyfriend back home?”

“God, no. Too many pretty Frenchmen to entertain me here,” she winks. “I’ll introduce you to some, just in case you change your mind,” she breezes, climbing off your bed and drifting to the door. “Wine?”

“Oh… well, why not? When in France, etc,” you agree and close the drawer on the pile of cardigans you have just safely stacked.

“That's the spirit!” she effuses over her shoulder as you follow her back into the living room, the Eiffel Tower still glittering in the dusk.

“This place is so lovely,” you sigh, transfixed by the view as she wanders over and hands you a glass.

“It is a pretty magical view,” she agrees, staring at the skyline with you, watching as each window seems to illuminate in soft yellow with the dying light.

“And the decor, too; I see you love books as much as me,” you smile, tilting your head to the piles before taking a sip of red wine. It's the perfect balance of refreshing, mellow fruitiness and tart tannin coating your tongue, so much better than any wine back home.

“Oh god, yes! I work in the library. I can bring home as many as I want,” she enthuses.

“So, are there actually any left on the shelves?” you jest, lightly, savouring your drink and wandering to take a closer look at a smaller painting that catches your eye. It's very different to all of the others.

“My god, this is beautiful,” you breathe, hugging your wineglass to your chest as you stare transfixed at the art. It appears to be a large country house, probably British, bathed in the warm pinkish light of dawn.

“That's home. Aubrey Hall in Kent. I think the family made me bring it in the hopes it would make me homesick,” Eloise deadpans.

“It’s a wonderful piece,” you breathe, fingers reaching out to lightly trace over the heavily oiled brushstrokes. Something about it is so captivating and intimate.

“I'll be sure to let the artist know,” she smirks. “Although I'm reticent to give him any more praise, seeing as, unfortunately, he is my brother.”

“Your brother painted this?” taken aback by the revelation, assuming it an heirloom.

She nods and comes to stand next to you. “Yup. Benedict. Second eldest. I'm fifth of eight, by the way. Hence ‘E’ for Eloise. It's a thing,” she rolls her eyes.

“Wow. Big family. I just have one brother...” 

“Lucky you. Although, as much as he is irritating, if I could only keep one sibling, it probably would be him,” she admits, taking a swig of wine.

“I love art,” you sigh, finally tearing your gaze from the canvas but already knowing it is something you will return to again and again. A pull you can’t quite understand.

“Oh, then I know the perfect job for you! There’s a gallery around the corner from the library, and I saw a sign saying they wanted an English speaker to assist international visitors! You would be perfect!”

“I would love that!” you extol, even as a tiny part of your brain lingers on the idea that it would be too good to be true if it all worked out, that fleeting sense of foreboding in paradise.

“Excellent!” Eloise’s enthusiasm pulls you back to the immediate. “So let’s get your glad rags on! It's time to hit the town for your first night in Paris!”

And thus, you find yourself being bundled back into your room to refresh and change for your first night in the city of your dreams. Indeed, as you find yourself being led by Eloise, arm looped in yours, through the bustling evening streets to a little bistro, your uncle and Solène already waiting at a table with smiling faces and drinks in hand, you can't help but feel this really is the only place in the world you could ever want to be…

Your adventure is just beginning.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[awkward-imaginations]

| First Impressions |

tetsuro kuroo x f!reader

The first time Kuroo saw you was when he noticed you sitting with Kenma, happily playing video games together. Intrigued by how close you and Kenma seemed, Kuroo asked about you on their walk home. Kenma described you as a fellow gamer and new student at Nekoma High. Kuroo's curiosity grew so he decided to introduce himself.

warnings/notes: highschool romance, fluff (maybe suggestive?), slight angst, I do NOT write fanfictions or storys normally, this is a first, so I am generally sorry for everything. CRINGE. def will be cringe in some parts. I'm a big sucker for Kuroo, him and Kenma may be ooc but I don't care this is my story and I just need to get it out of my head so I can finally write my Master's Thesis in peace. Also, english is not my first language. This has been "proofread" by my friends (who are also non-native speakers, lmao). If you find any mistakes, you can keep them.

word count: 1784

masterlist | next chapter

The first time Kuroo saw you was when he walked past your classroom. You were sitting across from Kenma at his table, happily chatting and playing on some sort of portable console. Your laughter was soft but infectious, causing Kenma to occasionally glance up from his game with a rare smile.

"She must be the new student Kenma was talking about," Kuroo thought as he paused to watch for a moment. He would have been lying if he said he wasn’t surprised when Kenma mentioned he had made a friend on the first day of the new school year. Kenma didn’t share much about you, but Kuroo knew you had transferred to Nekoma High in the second year because your father had a new job, prompting your family to move to Tokyo. He also knew you liked video games and were a bit of a recluse at times. However, discovering you were a pretty girl was news to him.

Naturally, he brought it up with Kenma on their way home. “So, why didn’t you tell me your new classmate is a girl?” Kuroo asked, intrigued. Kenma looked at him, puzzled. “Does it matter? Besides, I had a feeling you'd be annoying about it.” Kuroo feigned shock, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. “What? Me? Annoying?!” Kenma rolled his eyes. “You're exaggerating.” Kuroo couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, you think so?”

They continued walking but were suddenly startled by the sound of a ringing bell. Kuroo turned around to see you riding past them on a bicycle. “See you tomorrow, Kenma!” you called out with a beaming smile, waving to him. Kenma raised his hand briefly and nodded. “See you tomorrow,” he said quietly in return.

Kuroo watched you with growing curiosity as you rode away. He couldn’t help but stare a bit. Your hair blew gently in the wind, and you seemed to be in your own little bubble of happiness.

“Looks like she’s really nice,” he remarked, still looking after you. Kenma shrugged. “Yeah, she’s all right. Someone who loves games as much as she does can’t be too bad.” Kuroo grinned mischievously. “Oh, is that so? Maybe I should talk to her sometime.” Kenma sighed. “Do what you want but remember she’s new. She might need some time to adjust to everything.” Kuroo nodded with a smirk. “Sure, I’ll be nice.”

 “Ah, not too hot and not too cold,” you said as you sank down next to Kenma on the bench outside the next day. He grinned and held out a bottle of green iced tea from the vending machine. “Yeah.” You thanked him and took a sip before returning to your Chemistry Book. “I really don't know why you're still doing school stuff during break,” Kenma remarked, switching on his console. “My dad bagged my PSP last night because I was playing for too long. Sorry, dad, but time travel is basically cheating, and I didn't want to miss an event.” Kenma had to stifle his laughter while you looked at him with an offended pout.

For a while, you sat next to each other in silence, reading, playing and occasionally taking a sip of iced tea. After a few minutes, the conversations in the schoolyard became a vague background noise. The letters blurred before your eyes as you began to lose yourself in your thoughts. Since the end of school yesterday, you couldn't stop thinking about the student Kenma shared the walk home with. Even in the brief moment you passed the two of them, you realized how incredibly familiar they seemed with each other (an how attractive Kenmas friend was), why didn't they spend time together during breaks? Was Kenma just hanging out with you out of pity because you were the new girl?

Before your thoughts could spiral any further into a negative direction, they were interrupted by Kenma's voice. “Is everything alright?” You turned your head directly in his direction, his gaze fixed on the screen of his PSP. He noticed you not saying anything and continued, “I haven't heard you turn a page for a while and thought you might need some help.“ You blinked a few times into space. “Um, yeah. No. Actually... I must've spaced out; I wasn't really thinking about anything.” Except your cute friend. Disbelieving, Kenma looked up from his console briefly. You felt your cheeks heat up at the lie you just told and quickly returned to staring at your book, which you lifted a little to hide your face. “Right,” Kenma finally said and returned to his game.

Not sharing your thoughts just caused them to stir up in your head again. You felt the need to express them verbally, otherwise you wouldn't be able to concentrate all day. But before you could breathe in enough air (and courage) to ask Kenma about his friend, he came running towards you, grinning broadly. “Oy, Kenma, why haven't you introduced me to your new friend yet?”

While Kenma didn’t seem bothered to look up from his game at all, you turned your gaze to Kuroo. Your eyes met for a second, but before he could say anything else when he came to a halt in front of you, Kenma sighed and answered, “Because you spend way too much time on your university prep courses, nerd.” Kuroo gripped the back of his neck with one hand and put on an apologetic look before shifting his attention back to you, “I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he said his voice deep and smooth.

You noticed that your heart was beating a little faster and for an uncomfortably long second you couldn't get a sensible sentence together in your head. “I'm L/N Y/N, nice to meet you”, you finally brought forth, still looking at him. Your first impression wasn't wrong, he looked really good. Tall, broad shoulders with an athletic posture, dark, messy hair with piercing eyes. Had Kenma really just called him a nerd? Him?

Kuroo's smile widened as he noticed your lingering gaze. “Likewise. I’ve heard you’re quite the gamer,” he said, trying to keep the conversation light. You shrugged. “I dabble. Although my father has just banned me from it so that I can concentrate better on school.” 

“Ah, I see,” Kuroo remarked. “No wonder you two befriended each other rather quickly.” Kenma, still focused on his game, muttered, “Yes, but now Y/N reads boring text books during breaks and I have to take on the bosses alone.“ You laughed nervously, the sound drawing Kuroo’s attention even more. “I'm sure I'll get my PSP back soon if I get better grades this school year”, you said, your confidence evident.

„If it’s nothing else, maybe I can help you with that?“ Kuroo asked, leaning in a little further towards you. It was then you noticed his uniform, which he wore in a laid-back, effortless style. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and his sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. He had even ditched the blazer altogether, giving him a relaxed and approachable look. Your face must’ve given away, that you had no idea what he was getting at.

“By tutoring, of course,” Kuroo added with a playful smile, leaning back slightly as if to give you some space again to process his offer. You blinked, feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity. “You would help me with my studies?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “Of course,” Kuroo replied smoothly. “Anything to help a friend of Kenma's.“

Kenma, still immersed in his game, shot Kuroo a quick, knowing glance but didn’t comment. You looked at Kenma, seeking some sort of silent approval or encouragement, but he remained focused on his screen. “Um, that would be great, actually,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips. “I could definitely use some help with chemistry.”

“Perfect,” Kuroo said, his grin widening. “We can start tomorrow after school, if that works for you.”

“Sure, that sounds good,” you agreed, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement. “Thank you, Kuroo.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, waving off your thanks. “I’ll make sure you get your PSP back in no time.”

Kenma finally looked up from his game, giving you both a thoughtful look. “Just don’t let him distract you too much,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

You laughed softly, feeling a bit more at ease. “I’ll try my best.”

As the bell rang, signaling the end of the break, you gathered your things and stood up. Kuroo and Kenma followed suit, and the three of you started walking back to the school building together.

“By the way,” Kuroo said, falling into step beside you, “have you joined any clubs yet?” You shook your head. “Not yet. I’m still getting settled in and figuring out what I want to do. Why are you asking? Did you want to advertise yours?“ Kuroo noticed your teasing tone, but ignored it for now. “No, well, maybe a little. I’m the captain of the volleyball team. You should come watch us practice sometime.“

You hesitated for a moment, you knew volleyball from you friends at you former highschool, but their team wasn’t very good. To be precise, "good" was never a word you would think of in connection with their team to begin with. That's why the sport has remained uninteresting to you so far but the idea of watching Kuroo during practice was too tempting to resist. The thought of seeing him a little sweaty and worn out from training made your heart race. You could already picture his shirt clinging to his toned body, hair damp and falling into his eyes. The image made your cheeks heat up, but you quickly pushed the thought away, trying to stay focused on the conversation.

You nodded frantically. “Sounds interesting. Maybe I will check out your team.” Kuroo looked at you, smiling, he porbably noticed your little mental excursion. “Great! From next week on we practice after school every day. Just drop by the gym anytime.”

“Just be prepared for Kuroo to show off,” Kenma added and Kuroo chuckled. “I don’t show off, Kenma. I demonstrate. There’s a difference.”

As you reached your classroom, Kenma turned to Kuroo. “See you after school?”

“Yeah, see you,” he said, giving both of you a small wave before he added with a wink, „Ah, Y/N-Chan! Don’t forget about our study date tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” you promised, watching him go with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. As you settled back into your seat, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe there was also a good side to your father taking your console.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

ok here i go full hc prompt🥳🤩🤩

m6 in the ✨✋Future🤚✨ or at least to them, relatively, from their medievaissance-y mixed bag nonspecified time period to something resembling our times! i personally like to consider it still Their World, fictional, which just progressed to look like ours now (it literally makes zero difference to anybody except the inner machinations of my annoying ass but yeah ifykyk) basically yknow shooting a medieval peasant into 2023 & giving him mountain dew type beat

The Arcana HCs: M6 in the Future

~ @tetsuooooooooooo this was so much fun, thank you for sending it in and I hope you enjoy these!! ~

-- for headcanon purposes, MC is from the future and is tasked with taking care of M6 during their 24 hours there --

Julian

It takes him less than two minutes to figure out where (read: when) he is and his response is nothing short of enthusiastic

Please, he's been around the world, and he's got a delightful guide, and he really, really wants to know if his theories about leeches ended up being correct

He actually gets a little emotional when a quick google search shows him how wrong he was and you end up having to take him exploring to cheer him up and distract him from his failures

You have a really hard time explaining to him that clinics don't allow doctors without medical degrees to waltz in and observe random patients getting treatments

You take him to see a movie and he's transfixed

The screen is so big. The actor's faces are so clear. The drama is so much more than anything he could have imagined. And they come with music?? Hums the soundtrack for the rest of the day

If you show him that one version of Jurassic Park with Jeff Goldblum in it Julian will imitate him sporadically afterwards

Enjoys fast food way more than he should. Especially instant noodles. Will spend half an hour trying to pack some to take back

Fascinated by the concept of typing

You hit a button to make the next letter appear instead of writing it? But MC, this means that everything he wants to communicate through text could be easily readable. Imagine!

Freaks out a bit when you try to take him in a car. He's surprisingly comfortable in a metro, though, so you'll have to do with public transportation and bicycles

Oh yeah, he loves bicycles. He only crashed into three trees, a wall, and a stranger's parked car before getting the hang of it

He's convinced that earbuds don't actually play music, they just trick your brain into thinking that you can hear it

Almost exploded when you gave him coldbrew coffee

Asra

They know instantly that they're in a different version of reality. Sure, they've never traveled through time, but they've traveled through plenty of other dimensions

He's the least ruffled, and unfortunately, the least impressed. Don't get him wrong, this looks super cool, but this isn't any more otherworldly to him than the otherworldly places he's already been

Wants to go on a food tour immediately. Not the nice stuff though

No, they want the questionable food. The is-this-going-to-make-me-regret-existing food. The food that, if it was shown in an anime, would be pixelated and have threatening auras around it

So chill about what you tell him to do it's almost concerning

"Here Asra, climb into this four-wheeled hunk of metal that can travel over 100 miles an hour and hold yourself in with a single fabric strap while I pilot this through hundreds of other things just like it, driven by people we don't know and can't predict."

"Cool. Where do I put Faust?"

Don't tell them about edibles unless you want them to spend their day hunting some down and absolutely going to town on them

You swear you saw his hair stand on end the first time he tried popping candy

When you took them to get their radioactive meal (a.k.a. the closest fast food chain with the fewest ethical violations) they insisted on picking up one of every sauce packet to try them all

... and when he saw a nine-year-old mixing two different fountain drinks, he of course grabbed the largest cup available and went down the line so he could taste all of them at once too

You've never seen them this jittery and sugar high, so of course the next place to go is a trampoline park, with the bright lights and loud music and bodies hurtling through the air

He should not be getting the amount of air time that he does

Has a meltdown over modern fluffy blankets. They're so soft

Nadia

Gobsmacked. As in, she's a highly intelligent woman, and therefore able to really wrap her head around what she's seeing

The future!! She's in the future, Arcana help her

But she's got you and she adores you and she knows she can trust you so she's going to be okay. That said, start explaining. Now.

First things first: how's the infrastructure? She can't see any canals or aqueducts. Or fireplaces or lanterns, for that matter, what do you do for light? And cooking? (Cooking uses fire, right?)

Literally cannot walk past anything new without stopping to try to figure out how it works and if there's a way to recreate it herself

Bicycles on a rack? She's spinning the pedal and trying to figure out the balancing dynamics of two-wheeled movement

Almost lost it when she found out that it was possible to lift the hood of a car and look at the engine inside that makes it go. You decided to take her on public transportation instead

Which turned into all kinds of excited brainstorming about public carriages, and gondolas built for 20 people ferrying people along the aqueducts, and new and terrifying uses for the catacombs

Wasn't very impressed with the fashion she saw

She knows what good quality cloth looks like. This is a women who grew up in silks and fine linens, polyester does not impress her

Except for the stretchiness. She does like that

The perfume counter, on the other hand, takes up a good hour and a half of her time. She's smelled plenty of fine scents before, but she's never been in a shop where she could sniff so many at a time

This one smells like Prakra. This one smells like Vesuvia. This one smells like the beach. This one smells like the woods. This one ...

Yeah, it was an excellent opportunity to take a nap, if you're the napping sort. You wake up to her testing perfumes on you because she ran out of space on herself

Gets so frustrated when you explain your government setup to her

Muriel

Oh no, please be very gentle with him

He likes to live in the woods because it is peaceful and quiet and it's one place he doesn't stand out in

He stands out in this place very, very much and he doesn't like it

Refuses to leave the room he appeared in until his appearance is as unremarkable as possible (which is not easy to do, by the way, the man is a mountain. modern clothes in his size are hard to find)

Does not want to go in the car. It's way too fast and it makes him seasick when he closes his eyes to shut it out

Buses are somehow easiest - they feel the least claustrophobic when they're not crowded and it's rude to stare on them

You two end up going to a natural history museum in the middle of a weekday when hardly anybody is there, and he lights up

There are so many animals, and there are enough other people in the world who find those animals interesting that they gathered so much knowledge people had to make a building to hold it all

Has never heard evolutionary theory before and is fascinated by it

Once he starts talking, it's hard for him to stop

He's not being loud at all - you can only hear him so clearly because you two are holding hands so he can't lose you - but he's being quietly submerged in his own special interest and he loves it

He just wishes there weren't so many skeletons. But he's glad the species they belonged to aren't forgotten this way

Long story short, Muriel's inner Nerd is unleashed and he goes hoarse from the amount of murmuring he does all day

Does not like getting food in public. Does not like eating food in public. Does not like being publicly perceived. As soon as it gets into afternoon and it gets busy, he wants to go home

Which is where you show him what the internet is and he's in awe

People can work from home? People can make friends without leaving their house?? People can talk without being seen???

Portia

Spends five minutes hopping in place and squealing into her clothes to let out her nerves and excitement before you can decide what to do

Then insists on taking half an hour to hear you describe every single fun or interesting thing to do so she can make a list

Yes, she's determined to hit every single one in one day

First things first: food. Take her to a cafe and watch her sigh over all the baked goods and sugar-loaded caffeine beverages

Then (if there is one nearby) a mall, so she can see all the stuff that people buy so they can have the lifestyle they do. You have to drag her out of both Bath & Body Words and Bed, Bath, & Beyond

Please, it's full of fluffy fuzzy things and good smelling mystery goo, she wants to live in it also what do you mean "no stopping at the pet store", what even is a "pet store" -

Oh. OH -

You will have to physically pull her away before she adopts all the kittens. She does cry about it later, just a for a bit, they're so cute

Next is a library and cafe, of course, because she lives for books

This place is way bigger than the Palace library! The one in the Palace is just a large room, this is a whole building!! And people get to come here, whenever they want, just to read, for free?! What?!

You had to remind her about the "no loud noises in the library" rule several times. She's doing her best, she's just passionate

Completely demolishes her first chocolate croissant

Goes feral at the amusement park she has you take her to afterwards. This woman is an adrenaline fiend. You're cursing the pop up add for it by the fourth consecutive free fall ride

The only way to get her to leave is to tell her that one of her favorite stories was turned into a movie and that you'd have to go home to watch it. Don't take her to Target to get snacks. She'll disappear

Flicks the lightswitch 30 times in a row because she can

Lucio

He's immediately panicking. Not because he's in the future, no, but because of what it's done to his arm

It's changed. It's not running on magic any more. The only way to resolve his design is for it to be some kind of high-tech electrical prosthetic that even modern scientists would have difficulty with

Once he's adjusted to using it, you're good to go

Lights up like a firework the first time he rides in a car

MC. MC how fast does it go. MC that's a very high number. MC, he wants to drive. Please. Please! Pleeeaaaassssseeee

DO NOT LET HIM DRIVE.

Makes you pull over after seeing ads for Sephora because he's convinced that he could pull off that eye makeup even better

Tries every single makeup sampler and then gets offended when one of the poor employees suggests an anti-aging cream

Him? Aged?? How dare they - oh wait that really does brighten his eyes. He'll take ten, please, they're so small, they can't cost much -

You'll have to pull him out before he sees you use a credit card, because once he does he's going to keep asking to use it and you're not sure he understands why maxing it out is a bad thing

His arm does run out of battery at one point, which does cause some panic. All of a sudden he's stuck with a limp hunk of metal swinging from his shoulder, it's not ideal

You're able to find the retractable charging cable on the side and plug him in, but then he's stuck sitting in the same spot for two hours and a bored Lucio is a dangerous Lucio

There is a solution to this, of course. You can give him an iPad with games on it. He won't move a muscle after that

The caveat is that he will turn into an iPad kid and get glued to every single screen he sees afterwards. You don't know how to fix it

Falls in love with vending machines and tries Cheetos because the leopard on them looks cool. Develops an artificial cheese addiction

[razorblade180]

Genshin Polycule Things

Aether:Zzzz

Amber:*big spoon*Zzzz

xxxxx

Aether:But what if it isn’t pure all the way through?

Xiao:Just skim the top layer of snow. A little dirt is no worse than karma-

Keqing:*carrying Ganyu* She fell asleep on the trip…

Xiao:*takes Ganyu* You could’ve said my name.

Keqing:I have that right?

Xiao:You’re with my partner and closest friend. It’s not an issue.

Keqing:Ah… I wish I knew that. Aether, legs….

Aether:*picks her up*

Keqing:Thank you.

Aether:Does that curtesy extend to all my partners?

Xiao:*grumbles* I will think about it.

xxxxx

Aether:*walks in*

Scara:Well if isn’t the resident bicycle.

Aether:….*tears up* The what?

Scara:!? It was a joke! Relax!

Mona:*closes book* Scara…

Scara:Relax!!!! Aether, insult me back!

xxxxx

Yanfei:Madam Ping! I need your advice! Can you read this for me and tell me what you think?

Ping:….This is just a letter from the Traveler asking how you’ve been.

Yanfei:Yeah, but he wrote “My dearest, Yanfei” instead of “My dearest Yanfei,” with the comma after my name! Was that intentional or a mistake!

Ping:….

Ping:Bless your heart.

Yanfei:Not helping!

xxxxx

Kamisato porch

Aether:*enjoying the scenery*

Ayaka:*leaning on him*

Ayato:*opens door* I’m back Ayaka. How are things?

Ayaka:*drinking tea at the table* Uneventful.

Ayato:Is that so? Hello Aether. Enjoying our garden?

Aether: *20 feet away* Yep! Thought I’d swing by and say hello.

Ayato:Hehe, so it seems.

xxxxx

Waiter: Your total will be 1000 mora.

Amber:Okay. That’s easy enough t-

Aether:*puts down 1000*

Eula:I’ll handle the tip. *gives 1001*

Aether and Amber:….

Eula:What? Did you think I’d allow myself to lose to you? We are both treating her.

Aether:Lose t- I paid the tab! I would’ve let you spend 600 while I gave 500 mora!

Eula:…These are the type conversations that should be discussed beforehand!

Amber:Frankly, I’m just happy you both agreed to this. *smiles* I like this quality time. *holds their hand*

Eula and Amber: *silently bashful*

xxxxx

Aether:Zzzz

Scaramouche:Zzzzz

Mona:*in the middle*….(Why do they insist on me in the middle when one of them will never to pee!!!)

xxxxx

Aether:*starting a fire*

Charlotte:*focuses lens*

Aether:Uh is this really picture worthy?

Charlotte:I’m just testing out my new zoom function.

Aether:So what, the focus is on my hands?

Charlotte:Uh huh. *zooms in on crop top*

xxxxx

Furina:*head on his lap* Aether?

Aether:*playing with her hair* What’s up?

Furina:Is this what healing feels like?

Aether:I’d like to think so. If not, then we’ll find another way.

Furina:Hmm *closes eyes* This is perfect.

xxxxxx

Tighnari:Welcome to the seminar on proper forest travel. Everyone, find a seat.

Aether:*sits on a chair*

Nilou:*sits in his lap*

Collei:*red* N-Nilou? I think there’s a few more chairs.

Nilou:I saw, but all Tighnari said was to find a seat. Someone else can have the chair.

Cyno:You make a compelling argument, but I’m that’s not what Tighnari-

Candace:*sits on Cyno’s lap*

Cyno:Please begin whenever you’re ready.

Tighnari:This is not what I meant when I said “bring a friend.”

xxxxxx

Aether:Do you ever wonder what Kokomi writes about in her diary?

Gorou:Not really. It’s her business.

Aether:Yeah, you’re right.

……

Aether and Gorou:(I can’t let him know she’s let me read the pages about him.)

xxxxx

Aether:Paimon, I’m going on a date. I already made your lunch and dinner.

Paimon:Tell Keqing hello for Paimon.

Aether:…How’d you know it was Keqing?

Paimon:You woke up ten minutes earlier than usual and got a head start on commissions. Now you’re leaving after chores and your braid redone.

Aether:….

Aether:Can you not watch me so keenly?

Paimon:Nope.

[ecle-c-tic]

Middle Earth Asks

🥔 po-tay-toes: one of the hobbits invited you for a meal; who are dining with? Which of the seven meals are you enjoying?

🍞 lembas bread: what's the best road trip snack?

🌾farmer maggot's field: what is your favourite plant? Do you enjoying gardening?

🌼 simbelmynë: You've got the opportunity to bring one character back to life, who is it?

🍃 leaves of lórien: what gift would you most like to receive?

📽 action!: rank all six of the films (or three if you're a hater)

🚲 bicycle basket: what is your favourite middle earth meme?

🌟starlight: you're allowed to live in one of the Elf Kingdoms of Middle Earth, which one are you picking?

💀 Hey, did you know-: What is your favourite piece of behind the scenes trivia?

🌙 moon runes: which of Tolkien's languages would you most like to speak?

🧂 best salt in all the shire: which small joys do you most look forward to? (particular tea, using a perfume, rereading a book, etc.)

✂ cutting room floor: of all of the things that didn't quite make it into the movies, what would you have most liked to see?

☕ may I tempt you with a cup of chamomile?: What is your favourite hot beverage?

🐎 bill the pony: who is the best mount in all of middle earth?

🌳 fangorn forest: Which of Tolkien's creechurs is your favourite?

🔮 palantír: you've found a palantir! Who are you hitting up in middle earth? What are you telling them?

⏳ time and age: which poorly aged scene from LOTR is your favourite?

✨ evenstar: Who is your favourite middle earth couple?

🎆 fireworks: you're invited to Bilbo's 111th, what present do you think you'd receive?

🕷 creepy crawlies: which of tolkien's creatures do you think is the most frightening?

💍 my precious: what role do you think you'd play in the fate of the ring?

📜the company of Throin II Oakenshield: who is your favourite dwarf from the company?

🕶 i care not: what common complaint about the movies or novels doesn't bother you?

📢 motivational speech: which film speech do you find most invigorating?

🔥 barbecue: who is the worst antagonist?

🍿 popcorn: list your top 5 supporting characters

🎇 firefly: which (known) deleted scene would you most like to see?

⛏ expedition to Moria: which side character's adventures would you watch a spin-off movie about?

🎞 extra film: is there an extended scene that should have absolutely made it into the theatrical cut? which one and why?

🎵 can you sing, master hobbit?: Which song (from books or movies) is your favourite?

🖋 quill and ink: which of tolkien's themes resonates most strongly with you?

🗝 lost heirloom: which heirloom/object in the films or novels would you like to learn more about?

💿 leitmotifs and orchestras: which of the films songs (Howard Shore or singer) is your favourite?

🍲eowyn's home cooking: which other way could the ring be destroyed? (funny answers only)

🧙‍♂️precisely when he means to: what is your favourite gandalf moment?

⚔ you have my sword: what is your favourite aragorn moment?

🏹 and my bow: what is your favourite legolas moment?

🪓and my axe: what is your favourite gimli moment?

🍄 MUSHROOMS!: what is your favourite moment from the hobbits?

💎 the arkenstone: favourite Thorin and/or company moment?

🧵 spool: list your top five favourite costumes from any of the films.

📕 the red book of westmarch : what is your favourite quote(s)?

💛 family: what is your favourite family moment throughout the novels/films?

👀 the eye of sauron: who are you looking at disrespectfully?

🗺 arda: if you could travel anywhere in middle earth, where would you go?

👑the silver crown: the war is won, the world is saved, the king has been crowned. Who are you partying with at the coronation?

✏ rewrites: here's a pencil, which ONE thing in the novels/films are you changing?

🐺 GROND GROND GROND: which of the battles is your favourite to watch? is there a combat scene in particular that you enjoy?

⚠ fucking buckleberry ferry: from the clip of Dom and Billy discussing the one swear word they could theoretically get by censors, which line would you change?

📚 boxset: how were you first introduced to Middle Earth?

🏔 the misty mountains: the pass is treacherous, which two characters are you taking with you to make it over the mountains?

🌄 the rolling hills of the shire: what is your favourite outdoor activity?

🌋 mount doom: what middle earth take are you throwing into the fire?

⚙ technology: everything is exactly the same but you can give one character a modern invention. Who is it and what are you giving them?

⛵valinor: we're approaching the end of this game, is there a take/opinion you absolutely want to share?

🦅 the eagles: What thing or thought saves the day when it's not going so well?

🦗 weta: you're allowed to take one prop (or the canon useful version) home with you from the set, what are you taking?

☀ when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer: either share a piece of good news or something you're looking forward to.

📖 final chapter: what unanswered questions do you have middle earth?

[the-bear-and-his-sunbird]

After ten years of not writing fanfiction, Baldurs Gate 3 has me in a chokehold. Inspired by one of the songs Halsins VA Dave Johnson put into his Halsin playlist, i made this. If you want the full experience listen to "I want to be your only pet" by Bombay Bicycle Club.

The whole playlist ist gold to be honest, so if you haven't do check that out.

The Tav is based on my Character Òrfhlaith (say it like Orla) who started as a Sorcerer/Bard and respecc. into Sorcerer/Paladin. For the sake of the story, the Tav is not named and only described with she/her pronouns and the title songbird.

English is not my first language, so if you find any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes, please do point it out.

I Want to be your only pet (I want to let go and forget)

Paring: Halsin x female!Tav (Halsin POV)

Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Yearning.

If you prefer Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55315462

Warnings: Mentions of past Trauma, sight violence, explicit description of blood, hinted panic attack, explicit sexual thoughts. Minord DNI!

Description:

“My Bear, my bear. My sweet, sweet Bear. I will protect you. I will see you safe. You have nothing to fear as long as you are with me. And if I cannot promise you anything, I promise you this: You are safe with me.”

Little snippets of Halsin learning to let down his guard around Tav and his every growing yearning through Act I- III.

After the group freed him from the Goblin Camp, which was honestly a miracle in itself, they went on to save the Grove. Halin still could not believe it. After all the moments worrying, hoping, praying he would find a way to ward off all harm, it was done. The Grove was preserved and on the way to begin anew, whilst the Tieflings were on their way to Baldurs Gate. Not that he would call it safe in any way. Even if he wished them a happier ending, he feared for their lives on the road to the city. Halsin prayed that Sylvanus would watch over the group of refugees. Especially whenever he thought about them having to pass through the shadow cursed lands on their own.

When they finished saying their goodbyes, Halsin asked permission to stay at camp. In his heart he knew that they would need his help to pass through the shadow curse. After all, he had seen it put into place, living with its weight for over a hundred years. If his knowledge could help them towards their goal, he would be glad for it.

Their way would be long and traveling with them would mean leaving the grove behind but for all that it was worth he was relieved to give up the title of Archdruid; it had clung to his shoulders long enough. If he was being honest, he never was really good at it. Sure enough, he understood enough of politics and leadership to keep everything running, but it teared at him. Every nag and every whisper a shred of himself fell away. People like Nettie made it bearable, but he knew that due to his position there was a distance between them that could not be bridged. So he quietly yearned for nature's sweet caress again, when he would run out in the early morning hours his paws on the soft, wet ground, looking for berries and honey. Hunting at night. Unburdened from the limitations, being Archdruid gave him. No, he was not sad at all, to let all that go. and Francesca would lead the Druids to a new beginning. Remind them of the true intentions they should strive for.

The first days in camp were truly magical, though so very different than the hundred years before: Being able to enjoy the sunbeams on his face, the crisp air of morning, knowing that no one would ask him to lead the way. No one to depend on his judgment and whisper about his decisions in the hidden corners, when they thought he would not hear them. The people in camp gave him space to go after his day, not wanting his leadership nor needing it. They shared their meals with him and though some eyed him suspiciously, no one bothered him. Mostly he was left to ponder over the shadow curse and the illithid infection.

Though she came to him every now and then. Halsin could tell that she was the leader of their, rather chaotic, crew. When she spoke, they listened. Some rather … reluctantly at the beginning. But nevertheless, they accepted her plans and did what they could to support each other on the road. And she was patient with them in return. At least more patient than most of the people he knew. Even when she had to end the quarrels between them seemingly every other night, she only used harsh words in situations deserving of them.

That did not mean that she was above frustrations: One time, after a particularly bad fight between Gale and Astarion (the rogue accused the brown haired man of having stolen a copy of one of his books to eat it, telling him to use his own damn library for dinner) where they nearly set the campground on fire, she had set them straight sternly, her brow furrowing, using a surprising colorful vocabulary.

Halsin admired her vigor to go on, no matter how bad her group returned at night. Often she would go to every person in camp chatting for a few moments, her face still swollen and bloody. Most of the time, she would swiftly discard her armor and put on some (relatively) clean clothes, yet sometimes she only undid the heaviest part of her armor, chucking it away carelessly, as she went on to greet the first person. She asked them about their day, offering them counsel if needed. Every time she also appeared at his side at the end of her round. Her eyes shining with a warmth that he could only describe with a warm summer's evening.

He came to like the routine. The few first nights she would ask about his comfort and share a few kind words with him. Later, when they neared the shadow cursed lands, she requested advice trying to find the best route. While he explained she listened intently, nodding while he was mapping the ways and when he finished, she thanked him for his words before she left. It was nice. Not having to answer for every decision that was made, but his words being heard and acknowledged. It made him feel warm.

After that she returned to her usual routine. Asking him about his well being with a soothing voice, smiling at him like the fresh morning sun. One particular evening, after she left, Halsin could not help but keep thinking about the way she leaned her head when she was listening. Or how her eyes focused when she was mulling over ideas.

He found her attractive, he did not need to deny it. But the way his attention seemed to stick to her, like a fly on a honeypot, made him uneasy. There was a time and place for such thoughts and he did not believe the current situation to be one of those. So he stuffed the thoughts of her laugh and her eyes far away and carried on.

Halsin heard her sing, one time at camp. Wyll was sharing a story about the fine dances back in Baldurs Gate and bards that could induce you with whatever feeling they pleased, with just a few strokes of their instruments. The Warlock recalled the way one particularly skilled bard sang a ballad full of yearning and heartache, that he never heard again. Halsin heard her surprised exclamation, telling the horned man excitedly that she knew that song by heart. Wyll had politely asked her to sing it for them, only if she did not mind. And she did not mind at all.

Her voice sounded a bit coarse at the beginning (there were not many occasions to sing anymore) but soon her voice unfolded like a flower petal in bloom. Halsin could have sworn to Sylvanus, her voice sounded like a songbird, both sweet and rich. Soon she was weaving a net with each syllable, entangling the listeners with her honey voice. Turning his head he could see entranced eyes, some humming along softly and tapping their feet. A gentle breeze passed through them as the song ended. Gentle quiet settled over camp. For a moment everyone seemed to be lost in their own thoughts before Karlach asked for another song, excitement barely contained. With a glint in her eyes, the songbird began to sing a folkish song. One that was easier to follow and more well known, stomping along to the beat. And soon enough a few of them joined in. All in all it went on to be a surprisingly jolly evening. From his spot on a thick branch, Halsin watched them sing and dance around, grabbing onto the unwilling campmates pulling them along, much to their pretended dismay.

She had suddenly stood before him then. Hand outstretched, eyes shining like the sun itself had made its home there. With his heart pounding in his chest, Halsin stared up to her.

“Will you be joining us?” She asked in a melodic tone. He wished for nothing more than to keep her voice around for the rest of the night.

It would have only taken him a word. One word and he could have joined their merry dancing, their laughter. But he did not dare to. Not with the memory of the Shadow Curse hanging on his shoulders, whispering every single failure he could count into his ear. Not with Thaniel lost, not with the unspoken promise of saving him or die trying. With a heart so heavy it could drag him right into the ground, Halsin shook his head. “Another time. But thank you for your invitation. It is greatly appreciated.” Her smile faltered. He could have sworn to see a flicker of concern in her eyes. With a pang of regret the Druid tried to say something soothing- He did not mean to steal the sun from her eyes.

As he was trying to find his words, she smiled again. “All is well, my friend. You take your rest and tomorrow we will see to the Shadow Curse.”

Her eyes laid intently on him, unfaltering. He could swear he saw a different kind of fire there. “We will see it broken and Thaniel freed once again. I swear." The way she said it filled Halsin with hope. She seemed so sure of it.

Before he could say anything in response, someone from the group (he could swear it was Shadowheart, rare laughter spilling from her lips) was pulling her away from him again. He watched her pick up her laughter full of sunshine again, holding the hand of the young cleric. Under the sea of stars she radiated light and warmth, turning in a circle, stumbling over her feet and catching herself, before holding onto someone elses hand. Halsin wondered how it would feel to catch her, to make her laugh and bring the light into her eyes. Holding her close to his chest as he traced the rivers of starlight on her skin. To bite her tender skin, taste her, devour her. Halsin inhaled sharply, willing the golden sparks on his skin away. He reminded himself that such were no thoughts to have. Now was not the time to relax and to come undone. Not before he had freed Thaniel and lifted the Shadow curse. This was his duty before everything else. She would help him. That was a small relief in the suffocating fear that had nested itself in his heart so very long ago.

With a sigh he looked at the wood he was chipping away at. He had to be alone for a moment. Grabbing his utensils, he stood up, swiftly waving goodnight towards the group as his feet carried him back to his bedroll. Staring up towards the stars, he wondered if he should carve a dancing bird.

After they saved Thaniel and killed Ketheric Thorm the land bloomed once more, roots emerging from the earth tasting the sun's kiss once again.There were no words in the world that could describe how he felt then. Everything he worked for, all that he wished for over 100 years, came to life. Just like that. The land that had clawed at them mere hours ago, now flourished in the light of the sun, reaching for it like they were drowning. Halsin felt like the weight on his shoulders had lifted a bit. Years of feeling like there was not enough air, now seemed to ease, as every inhale came a little easier to him. For a moment he let himself rest and gazed at the scenery around him, when a high pitched yelp ripped him out of his thoughts.

Startled, he turned towards the sound: Karlach had gathered everyone in reach of her in her arms, squeezing them tight to her chest. His Songbird laughed as she was swept up in the embrace of the tiefling woman, laughing freely. He cherished the starry eyed look she had, as she looked back on the land, her chest swelling with pride. There was seldom a moment when she looked so full of wonder, so carefree.While she smiled often before the others, when no one looked, her eyes turned grim, as a heaviness Halsin recognized all too well took hold of them. Shoulders sagging as if the burden of the world sat on her shoulders. It was a relief to see her unburdened, even if only for a moment.

When his gaze lingered on her face a second too long, their eyes met and time seemed to still, nothing existing besides them for a moment. Then she shot the elf a questioning look. Shame bloomed in his chest, as Halsin had realized he got caught staring like a fool and then kept looking at her still. Suddenly he wished to make himself as small as a mouse. But to his surprise she merely reached over to him and pulled him into the hug

“You are officially one of us now.” She said sneaking her free arm around his chest, squeezing him towards her. At least he thought it was her arm.

“Next time join us earlier.” So she must have thought his stare stemmed from lacking inclusion in the group. Halsin hoped, she would not find out the real reason he had been staring.

That evening the group celebrated once again. It was rather modest, as the weeks before had depleted their ressources greatly. Still, the relief after surviving moonrise tower seemed to give them new energy. Now the whole group seemed to buzz with excitement for the next chapter to come. As they drank and talked, Halsin could feel himself relax more than he had in years before- His Pipe pressed between lips, letting out a puff of fragrant smoke and watching it swirl into the bright night sky, whittling tools in hand again, chipping away at it slowly. The ground under him was soft and warm, bustling with life, ready to begin anew.

He chuckled as the songbird watched her in an armwrestling competition with Karlach, Wyll and Lae’zel on the side, discussing their forms, throwing in a bit of advice every now and then. Even if she was strong, Karlach bested the songbird easily, apologizing the whole time. Halsin could swear he saw a coin switch hands in the background. Whoever did not bet on Karlach was foolish, that woman would best everyone in camp, including himself. As Gale and Astarion started to bicker again, the songbird stood up and shooed them to do “something useful for once” with a grin. She loved them, he could see it clear as day. Seeing her made his chest uncomfortably tight.

Later that evening she came to him, out of breath, sweat glistening on her skin. She had been playing with the dog and the owlbear again. Eunning away with Scratches' ball before getting tackled, when she did not manage to run fast enough. She pointed her finger to the spot next to him.

“Is this seat taken?” She inquired, her skin flushed and eyes twinkling.

He smiled. “ No. If you want to rest here for a while, you are more than welcome.” The elf shifted to the side, allowing her to sit down next to him. She quickly made herself comfortable on the floor and crossed her legs. Her gaze shifted to his hands, holding his piece of wood.

“Can you teach me how to whittle? Every time I see you, I wonder how you do it and … I thought that this night is as good as any to ask you. If that’s not too much to ask” her voice seemed to waver at the end.

Was she nervous? Halsin wondered if he was intimating her somehow. Before he spoke he softened his tone on instinct.

“I don’t know if there is much to say about it. Most people tend to perceive it as boring, anyway. But nevertheless I’d be honored to show you, if you really want to.”

She shrugged. “Well most people can stuff it.” A huff escaped her lips when she saw the surprised look Halsin gave her.

“You do well to know what you like: They cannot take that away from you. No matter how much they sneer about it, this is yours. And besides: whittling is a hobby as good as any other.” He contemplated her words for a moment.

“Sometimes I think people look at me and think my feelings can’t be hurt” Halsin stilled for a moment “Thank you for your words. I appreciate them greatly.” She shot him a smile as the elf picked up his utensils again. While he was showing her what to use and how to begin, she listened attentively, asking for clarification a few times. When she leaned over, he could feel her warm breath on his skin. Hastily he cleared his throat and went on to explain.

“For me the vision of what I’ll carve comes when I’m already in the process. But for the first time, it would be a smart choice to already have an idea in mind.” He handed her a piece of wood, which she started turning in her hands over and over again, contemplating. Holding up his own work so he could show her.

“You could start with a spoon if you’d to begin very simple. Or if you would rather enjoy something artistic I could show you a fox or a bi-”

“A Bear.” Taken aback, Halsin looked over to her. She did not falter, as she continued. “It is you who is showing me how to do it, no? I met you as a bear the very first time. And …” She hesitated. “You do inspire me, you know? So, I would like to do a bear.”

By Silvanus, the bear would like to do you , he thought. Alone the notion that she was inspired by him of all people. Did she even know how extraordinary she was? But that was a thought he would keep to himself. So instead he said: “A Bear it is then.”

He showed her the outlines of the piece and what she would have to expect, while she was whittling. Soon they both worked in silence, elbows touching every now and then. Halsin sneaked a glance at her face: She made her focused face again, eyes solely on the wood in her hand, crouching over it, trying to find the best position for her blade. The tall elf chuckled and looked at his work again. His wooden bird came along just fine. The upper side of the outstretched wings was already apparent with its head thrown towards the sky, beak open as if right in the middle of a song. He wondered if he should carve the legs to be standing solidly on the ground or rather ready to set to the sky, when Galel came to them, asking for support on “urgent matters”.

“Thank you for your time.” came her voice from next to him. She gently brushed the shavings from her legs before standing up. “Will keep showing me how to whittle? I had a lot of fun,” her eyes held a cheeky twinkle “even if some people will call me boring now.”

With a short laugh he responded: “Well I hope you do well to know that you can be boring with me anytime.”

“Well. Until we meet here again, to be boring together.” She cackled and waved him goodbye, walking alongside the talking wizard. As Halsin watched her leave, he wondered why his chest was so tight again.

Sighing, he gathered the wood chips on one pile, cradling the rough wood between his big hands before discarding it.

It was not that he wanted to harbor her for himself. Far from it. She was a beacon of light in these dark times, one that everyone was sure to enjoy having around. And she seemed to like the company of her friends so much. But still his heart betrayed him. He would have loved to sit alone with her a moment longer, her light breathing next to him and their skin touching gently. Maybe she would lean over again, so he could smell her hair. In the short moments when the wind blew just right, her smell carried over to him: fire and berries. He wondered how she managed to smell like that. Maybe he would have asked her about it. Maye she she would have accidentally brushed his hand and he would have gathered his courage, reaching for it, holding it tight. A shudder ran through him. Maybe it was better that she left. He wondered how much longer desire in him would have stayed silent, when it wanted nothing more than to hear her breath coming quicker, tasting the sweetness of her skin, telling him that she needed him like a song- He shushed himself, swatting at his thoughts like they were flies. He picked up the wood she left for the next time. Weighing it in his hands, he looked at it. A Bear she wanted to whittle. He chuckled sadly. As if she had not been whittling away at his guard for such a long time.

Whilst on their way to Baldurs Gate, she came to his tent every evening and they calmly whittled away. Most of the time, both of them sat in silence. But sometimes they would share a few words, talking about their interests and stories, sharing comfort in their presence. One quit evening, when the others were gathering some supplies on the road, leaving the camp in a state of unusual calm, she opened up to him about her insecurities. Telling him about her experience as the group leader, comparing it to her wildly different life before.

In the spur of the moment Halsin asked her if she wanted to go back after this was all done. The whittling stopped, while her brow furrowed. For a second he was afraid that he overstepped. Was ist too personal? Did it bring up troubling memories for her?

But she laid her hand on his arm and found his gaze. “Actually I prefer it now. Even in these dire times.,” in her eyes a sudden bitterness pooled. ”I got all of you now, after all. That is more than I had before.” As her gaze shifted towards her workpiece again, Halsin noticed her hand lingering on his skin before pulling away to adjust her grip on the wood. The spot on his skin her hand had rested upon, felt empty now. He turned his head towards his own project again, not wanting to inquiry any further.

It was peaceful for a few days. So peaceful that he nearly forgot all the horrors that the world entails. Soon they reached Rivington. Their excitement for the city had already turned to anxiety as they reached the city gates, being denied entry as all the refugees were. For Halsin this Situation was unbearable. Seeing all these people in little makeshift tents, sleeping on the cold hard floor, having barely enough food to feed all the children. hated the city for its uncaring nature. Seeing all of the city's misdeeds he wondered if they felt any shame at all. All this time he held himself to such high standards, as he tried again and again to be deserving of the title as Archdruid. The leaders of this city could leave a legion to starve right before the city gates and be praised for it.

Since they took Yenna into their camp, he tried his best to keep his composure. The young girl was already scared enough and did not need to see the adults around her losing their nerves too. So he tried his very best to appear calm and collected, while a storm raged under his skin, growing stronger every day. One hungry face at a time.

The final breaking point approached in front of the circus gates. Halsin had seen the posters advertising the circus time and time again. A clown they all seemed to be excited for. Telling him about the jokes he would tell and all the attractions that could be seen. He did not truly understand the concept of that yet but he was willing to try, if the group decided to visit.

But in a cruel twist of fate, it seemed they did not need to go to the circus but rather it came to them. When it started to dawn, his group decided to pack up for the night, making their way down the roads of Rivington. A rather big crowd had formed cheering a sturdy human man on as he cracked his whip, forcing the animals to dance on small stands, as a middle aged woman played a fast song on a wooden flute. His blood ran hot through his veins as anger seemed to swallow him whole. He could feel the bear in him stir, ready to attack and tear the flesh of this disgusting person's bones. The noise around him made him nauseous. Halsin didn’t know why the fighting started. One moment he was thinking about ripping and screaming and the other he saw his songbird emerge from the crowd, weapon in hand, fighting a cloaked figure. Jumping forth as fur emerged from his skin, he did not care who started it at all. He was glad for the fight.

After the battle was won, Halisin stayed as a bear, wishing for the comfort this shape brought him. His strong body shifting on his paws, every smell more intense but also his mind quieted a little. Everything seemed more manageable like this. But now even as a bear his heart pounded and his breathing did not seem to slow. As Halsin stood still, he noticed that his body was shaking like leafs in the wind, the memories of long bygone times whispering in his mind, demanding to be seen, no matter how much he seemed to push them away. He growled and made his way back to camp with the others. He needed to be away from everything for a while. No one should see him losing control like that.

He did not care what looks he became as he nearly ran through camp, ignoring his name being shouted. There were only his feet, pounding on the ground, coming quicker with every moment until he was sprinting into the first spot of trees he could see, not stopping until his feet reached water. The Lake. Exhaling he pressed his snout into the water only coming up for air when he felt like his lungs were about to explode. He did not want to be alone like this. But also he could not go back, have them ask questions about why. Especially when he did not seem to know either.

A thump behind him alerted him prompting his muscles to tense on instinct. He sprung around, jaws open to expose his sharp teeth. She stopped in her tracks, carefully holding up her hands.

“Halsin? Do you need help? Are you hurt?” Her voice was gentle but Halsin detected an urgency behind it. Looking for a reaction, she slowly stepped close to him, kneeling down an arms length away, her right hand outstretched towards him and stilled. Uncertain his eyes flickered between her and the trees. The light had already vanished, casting her silhouette in blue and gray hues, as she silently waited for him to breach the distance. He realized that she was leaving him the choice: To either come to her or run away if he felt the need.

Desperation clawed at him. Why did he even hold back? What was it good for in the end? She was here now, offering comfort. He would be a fool to deny her. So he took the last step towards her and laid his face into her hand. A sigh escaped her lips, that he could only describe as relieved. Soon enough her fingers started carefully stroking him. Minutes passed, his breathing coming slightly slower than before, his mind gradually clearing from the fog of panic he was lost in.

“Oh my sweet friend.” she whispered, her steady voice not much about a whisper. Her right hand was still on the side of his face, gently caressing him. He did not want to bear the burden anymore, to shoulder it all alone. All the memories of hardship and loss, the memory of himself sitting behind cold and rotting Goblinbars and, before that, behind a closed bedroom door, his eyes tracing the pattern of the carvings on the door time and time again until they burned themselves behind his closed eyes.

It broke him when he saw the eyes of the animals. He knew the look all too well.Some of them had no hope of escaping anymore. Those who did looked like they paid greatly for their resistance: Time and time again under the cruelty of their so called masters. One day even those who held on the longest would give in. They would become the broken puppets the Circus desired. Their fur dulled, their scales spotty. Dancing to some people's badly played lute. Carving patterns into the iron rods. He could have sworn that they would carve and carve like he did-

Halin shuddered and pulled his fangs back. If he would not be in his bear form already, it surely would have been broken free by now. He could taste the blood in his mouth, could free it dripping down on the cold forest floor. Halsin wanted to pull back. He did not want her to see him like this, afraid and grappling for control. He felt his trembling in the trees around them.

When her other hand appeared on his head, he finally looked up. His eyes adjusted in the dark to really look at her. After the fight, she had thrown the upper half of her armor away and traded it for a dirty shirt which by now had been stained with no small amount of blood. With her arms outstretched towards him, he was able to see the smears and stains that appeared blue and purple on her skin and hair. Blood both from her own wounds and those inflicted on others were running over her skin like a river delta. Even though she smelled like blood and sweat and leather, the wind carried the faintest whiff of berries- It startled him. After all this her hair still smelled like herself. It was absurd.

Halsin wondered if he began imagining things. Nevertheless, his tension eased a bit as he allowed himself to step an inch closer, nostrils flared. She smelled lovely, more now than ever.

“Let me help you. My gentle bear, let me heal your wounds.” She whispered again, her hands stroking his fur, beckoning him closer.

My Bear, she had said. If his mind had been clearer, he would have asked her about it. But right now Halsin gave in and pressed his head even harder into her hands. He did not want to think anymore. He wanted to relax into her warm touch and forget.

She pulled him close, guiding his head onto her lap, as she sat on the stained earth below them. Halsin let himself fall to the floor, his strained limbs protesting. The Bear groaned as he adjusted himself to laying on the floor, without bothering his wounds too much. As soon as he stilled, one of her hands started to caress his neck, the other gently touching his snout. It had stopped dripping blood, but he tasted it still on his tongue. He winced again, wishing to wash the foul smell of these people away.

"Shhh." She hummed “ It’s alright. You’re alright. Let me take care of you.” Her hands suddenly stilled. “Can you show me where you are hurt?”

In my heart he wanted to say. But the bear was not able to speak and he was glad for it, his treacherous thoughts would not reach her ear. Instead he forced himself to turn himself on his side, so she could see his stomach. His already dark fur was clumped with strands of blood and dirt, in the night it seemed to be almost black. When he had pushed himself on his hindlegs to strike at his opponents, his soft underpart was exposed just long enough to strike him.

In the darkness she reached over, her hand already glowing. Bowing her head onto his, her forehead silently connecting with him, she whispered sweet nothings into his ear. Halsin felt her magic on his body as it encouraged flesh to mend and skin to heal. To him her energy felt like hope in new beginnings. Like the soaring of wings. It felt like being home again. Almost felt like the relief he felt after they saved Thaniel. She truly was his sun, with the way her entire being seemed to emit warm light, his beacon that guided him through the darkest of times. Everywhere she went, it felt summer had begun anew.

Only moments passed until his body was healed, but her hands stayed on his fur long after it. Several minutes went by in silence, with only their breathing filling the space between them. After a while she groaned and repositioned her leg, wincing. Guilt exploded in his chest as he looked up, slightly pulling away from her, reading her expression. She gave him a tired smile, bloodied lips stretching to reveal her dimples. Halsin realized how exhausted she really looked, not only from the battle but rather carrying the weariness of all the weeks in her eyes. And still she went to care for him, before all others.

Halsin wanted nothing more than to keep her to himself, to shield her from all her sorrows and to be held by her in return: To find comfort in each other. The desire to hold her tight seemed to burn through his chest, gnawing his way up until he felt like he could choke. Who was he to ask anything of her? He tried pulling away from her completely, but her hand on his back tightened

“Don’t go away. Please. I don’t want… “ She trailed off. Halsin saw a flicker of anxiety on her face. “Stay, please. Just for a moment.”

She let go, stretching her arms out wide in front of him. An Invitation. Halsin noticed that her eyes held the same request, like the day she asked him to dance and like so many nights before It would only take him so little to accept. He forced himself to push his worry down, as the Bear pushed his head into her hand. In an instant she pulled him close into her chest, pressing her face into his fur. The bear inhaled sharply as her arms tightened around him in a silent plea. It felt like she tried to wrap her entire body around him. Carefully he lifted one of his blood-soaked paws and wrapped himself around her, gently pulling her into his chest. Now she nearly laid on him, her body rising and falling quickly with his ragged breath. It still was very fast.

As if reading his thoughts she murmured: “Breathe with me.” Pushing himself back on his hind legs, he pulled her even further onto him, which earned him a soft laugh from her, and rested his head carefully on her back, observing her steady breathing. Trying to detect a pattern, he started to exhale and inhale in rhythm with her, his heart slowing down little by little. Relief washed over him, gentle but strong, like an ocean wave that came upon the shore. A part of him wondered if she knew how much this calmed him, breathing together as the gentle night breeze carried it away.

Hasin felt her hand begin to draw patterns on his chest, trying to untangle the knots in his fur whenever her fingers catched a particularly bad one and finally closed his eyes. Nothing could coax him away from this moment, having her in his arms, her warmth seeping into his fur, holding a light within him that kept his sorrows at bay. If the world would have ended in this moment, he would not care for it.

After what felt like hours of peaceful silence, he felt her stir again. She hesitated for a moment but then turned her mouth towards his ear and spoke.

“My Bear, my bear. My sweet, sweet Bear. I will protect you. I will see you safe. You have nothing to fear as long as you are with me. And if I cannot promise you anything, I promise you this: You are safe with me.”

Halsin felt like his heart wanted to explode in his chest. Warmth began spreading in his body, sending a pleasant feeling into his exhausted body. My bear. The first time he heard the word could have been a mistake on his part, born of wishful thinking and the blood flowing from his wounds. But she said it again. And again. My bear. Oh to be hers indeed.

Halsin wished her to hold him like this every night, have her close, let her stroke his hair and tell him that there is nothing to worry about, like a prayer that only he could hear. To have her say that he is safe with her again and again until he started believing it again. And he would swear to her that she is safe with him, promising it with every breath, kissing it into her skin. He would be pulling her in his arms softly as either elf or bear. Holding her and letting himself be held. Feeling her body against his, shielding her from harm. Halsin desperately wanted to worship her every inch, calling her all the wondrous things he could think of.

Showing her how much he needed her in any way possible, hearing her scream his name into the night, her moans just as beautiful as her songs. He longed to leave his mark upon her skin, to show everyone how desired she was, for nature had made her so very beautiful, inside and out. If she did not know by then that she was like the sweetest honey to him, he would make sure she knew every day and night.

He scolded himself for being selfish. But her words, the way she called him mine; he wondered if there was any possibility she could return his feelings after all. That she felt the same way he did, when she gazed at him. Why else would she call him my bear? But uncertainty rang loudly in his ears. What would he do, if he was wrong about it? She called the others my friend and some even sweetheart. What if he misunderstood her intentions and she left him, disgusted by his brazen words? No, disgusted by him.

Then he would never be able to look at himself again. Only imagining that she could sneer at him and turn away hurt him beyond comprehension.

Tonight he could not muster the strength. Too sweet was her embrace, too comforting her words. And he was so tired of pretending he possessed strength that had left him years ago.

Nestling even further into her skin, he savored every second. He just wanted to breathe in her scent and pretend that his feelings were returned. Pretend that he was wanted the same way like he wanted her. Pretend that there were better days to come for him, where he could be himself with her. Building a safehouse for everyone who needed it so that no one would ever fear for their lives again. He imagined never carrying so much weight again. But those were far away dreams. No, tonight Halsin could not shoulder the dark shroud of reality. Instead he vowed to ask her about it, to finally ask her if she felt the same. Tomorrow.

If he only knew, how much she yearned to do the same.

[alexbkrieger13]

Double vision

Partners on and off the pitch, Bayern pair Pernille Harder and Magdalena Eriksson have firm convictions on all the big topics facing women’s football in an era of exciting growth and mounting pressures

In a room at Bayern München’s training ground, Magdalena Eriksson and Pernille Harder are talking bicycles. One of their favourite things about Munich, the place they have both called home since making the switch last summer from Chelsea to Bayern, is the ease of travel for cyclists in the Bavarian capital.

Eriksson: “Now we live quite centrally so we can use our bikes to get anywhere.”

Harder: “It is a bit easier to bike here in Munich than in London.”

Magda: “We even took our bikes to Oktoberfest once.” 

Pernille (laughs): “We were biking straight!”

This is the beauty of an interview with the pair (even one conducted over Zoom, as this one is): you raise a subject and they bounce it around between them, their insights and reflections interspersed with lighter moments and laughter. And, as arguably their sport’s highest-profile couple – Harder is a two-time UEFA Women’s Player of the Year, Eriksson a Sweden stalwart – they have plenty to say. 

Both care deeply about matters on and off the football pitch. They are members of UEFA’s Football Board (of which more later), they support the Common Goal project – pledging one per cent of their salaries to support football charities – and on top of that they are advocates for the LGBTQ+ community. 

But, first, back to finding their feet in Munich, where the duo bring serious know-how to a Bayern side with big ambitions, despite an early exit from the Champions League in January. In Harder’s case, the Denmark forward knew German football already from her three years with Wolfsburg between 2017 and 2020. For Eriksson, after six seasons in England with Chelsea, this is an entirely new experience – which is exactly what she was hoping for.

“I think that’s how we are as people,” says the former Blues captain. “A reason why we moved is I am really curious about a new culture and a new environment.” From the sounds of things, that decision is paying off too. Away from the pitch, she is enamoured of the local coffee shops; on it, she has been impressed by the way “a lot of the girls take responsibility around the dressing room and with how things should work around the team. There’s quite a clear structure of different responsibilities, and the players take ownership of that. That’s something more like how it was in Sweden, and not at all in England. It makes us take responsibility and it’s something I appreciate.”

As for Harder, she elaborates on the unique culture of Germany’s biggest football club – one which attempts to marry sustained success with humility. “It really is a club where you have to work hard, be humble but also know your worth,” she says. “It’s a bit weird. There is no arrogance: we know we’re good, we know we are a big club, but we know we also have to work hard. There’s a lot of respect for each other, and it’s not only in our team. When we go to the campus and meet the academy boys or some of the other staff, you have the respect. You treat others the way you want to be treated, and that’s a really good value which aligns with my values.”

Now both in their thirties – Eriksson is 30, Harder 31 – they knew the women’s game before its lift-off moments of recent years. Thus, they bring a helpful sense of perspective to any discussion of its development, and how it might evolve in years to come.

If female footballers today have opportunities beyond the dreams of previous generations, they face pressures unknown by their predecessors too, as Eriksson explains. “I think there are two sides to every story. Maybe, when we grew up, there wasn’t that much pressure, but with a growing platform [and how] the women’s game is growing, there is also growing pressure. The fans are growing, social media is growing, so there are two sides to it.

“We can really help the younger generation of today to deal with that kind of pressure, which you have to be able to manage as a footballer,” she adds. “You have to find what you need to focus on and what you should really just shut off and not focus on. You need to find the people that you talk football with and the people’s opinions you shouldn’t care about.”

Harder picks up the thread: “When we were younger, there was only one focus and that was football – to get better and to win. It was just football: that was the thing we played for. Now, there is so much more and, with social media, it’s also about a lot of individual awards, individual recognition, when the focus should be on the team. And I think it’s easier to be distracted [from] having that right focus. That’s something important to think about…”

“And to remind yourself about on a daily basis,” Eriksson cuts in. “And also to spread that within the team – that it’s a team sport and the team wins, the team loses, the team scores, the team concedes. All of those things.”

“Except when Magda scores!” adds Harder with a laugh, teasing her partner over a goal she scored in the week of this interview.

Jokes aside, the pair obviously think a lot about the game, which makes them natural choices to sit on UEFA’s Football Board, the body set up last year to draw on the knowledge of current and former players and elite coaches in the shaping of women’s football. For Eriksson, it’s “inspiring to know you get a direct line to some really big decision-makers”, and the welfare of players – “the football calendar and making football sustainable” – is something both women are keen to highlight.

“We all want a long career, but sometimes if you have to play all the time and have no break, that will shorten it,” says Harder. “Often, we have tournaments in the middle of summer or late summer, so we have four or five weeks before the tournament for our summer holiday, but then we don’t really have that time off because you train to prepare for the World Cup. And then, after the World Cup, [Magda] had ten days and I had two weeks off, and then you just go straight back into it. So, you have to put the tournaments earlier so you have at least four weeks after when you can really, medically, relax and be ready for the new season. Everything else is just too hard mentally and for the body.”

“It was the same last year with the EURO and the amount of injuries we saw after,” says Eriksson, who, ironically, just days after our interview, suffered a metatarsal fracture in her left foot. “Again, [it was] a couple of weeks off for a few, even less for others, and then you are straight back into a high-performance environment where you immediately have to play games. Finding a balance in the calendar where you get the breaks at the right time and don’t have too many games in short spaces of time is the most important thing.

“The fact we are starting now to do research on women’s bodies and women’s players is the first step. With the way we train, the way we train conditioning, everything is based on research on men’s football players, men’s athletes. We don’t know if it’s the same for us. Should we train more or less, or in a different way?”

From Harder comes further food for thought. “When you think about it, we use the same football as the men. It isn’t that I want to change it, but it’s also the same size of pitch and we don’t have the same body; we don’t have the same strength in the muscles. I don’t know the impact from every time I shoot or make a pass, if that’s actually a bigger impact on my muscles than it is on a man’s. That’s something I think it would be quite interesting to look at. I don’t know if it’s something we want to change and have a lighter ball. Maybe it’s just small percentages of how heavy the ball is that could change it.”

“There is rivalry in women’s football, but respect, love and joy always come first”

It’s fascinating to hear this to and fro on the physical side of the game they love, and it’s not the only challenge they see. We talk too about misogyny and what Harder describes as “a mindset of some people who don’t want to change [and see] that women can also play football, women can also be commentating on men’s football, that they also have knowledge about football. They have their mindset and their values about it and it’s really difficult for them to change.”

What is not in question is that women’s football has taken giant steps already in terms of status and recognition. As the commercial opportunities grow, however, neither woman wants to lose the things that make it different from the men’s game. Eriksson recalls the celebratory atmosphere in Australia and New Zealand during the last Women’s World Cup; she cites too the friendly fan dynamics in the club realm.

“We are coming off the back of a fantastic World Cup where there were only positive emotions connected to the games. Of course, some teams win, some teams lose – that’s part of football – but the way the tournament was held and the fan culture, that was amazing. So much positivity, so much joy, and that’s everywhere in women’s football fan culture right at the moment. That is what we want to keep. In women’s football, that rivalry is still there, but the respect, the love and the joy is always what comes first.”

The last word comes from Harder, ever the finisher. “It won’t be easy to keep it like that, but that at least is the aim.” 

[aghostiewitdahoodie]

⟣ Synopsis: A coming of age Simon Riley experiences what it is like to have feelings for someone.

⟣ Pairing: Pre-Military! Simon Riley x F! Reader

⟣ Warnings: None

⟣ This is my work, my writing. Do not steal or repost elsewhere.

Have you ever seen someone so graceful? You would wonder if you are gazing at an angel without her wings, ambling among us. Time would seem to slow down and everything…

Everything just becomes a blur.

You lose your senses and you cannot help but admire. Her doing the simplest things appear as an art so carefully crafted, leisurely thought of with love.

There I erected still at the pavement on a sunday morning. You would think the season is beautiful…

It is.

Yet incomparable to her.

No matter how sun kissed the trees are or the leaves gently descending in different hues, different routes…

Nothing could compare to the beauty of Y/N.

Y/N L/N.

Even her name is like a song, a melody and you just close your slits and dance and your heart…

Oh, your heart is fluttering with joy.

Though hearing her name makes me timid. Having her around makes me timid and I stutter on my words.

The things she makes me feel…

It feels wonderful and yet it scares me.

A fusion of red and blue she wears, a knee-length dress and a beret. That beret I saw yesterday as I passed by the high end street. A high end street where the best shops erect tall and proud.

Of course, she was the one to purchase it. Y/N deserves the best of all and the best of all appears plain when it comes with her.

Yet there I erected still, wearing the same clothes from yesterday. The clothes I wore the day before yesterday, covered in filth, covered in meaty bits, smeared with blood. I should have not worn the apron yet for she may consider me a sight to be disgusted at.

Yet there I erected still, admiring her. Not a care in the world, I could admire her for the rest of my days and not once get exhausted.

Platforms she wore and they rest flawlessly on the bicycle pedals as she travel in a usual speed yet time seems to slow down. The wind blowing her hair, everything just seems to be perfect with her.

I swear I could smell her scent when she passed me by. The aroma of hers is like a field where the prettiest flowers grow.

Does she even have a flaw?

Could someone as beautiful as her have a flaw?

Seriously. I have been wondering.

Yet there I erected still, my copper irises bore still.

How could my mind be tranquil?

How could I be civil?

When there she is, doing the simplest thing yet appear so beguiling.

Yet there I erected still until something collided with me. My vessel swiftly detected the pain and soon enough I tumble to the ground.

Despite the pain and the harm, what a sight to gaze at.

Above me is the angel I dream of.

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern and the stunning orbs of hers never gazed at me this way, not once in my life and her nose scrunches every now and then… Her lips plumped and pink, appearing as kissable as ever.

Despite my hand trembling in anxiousness, I reached for her face and there I rested my palm on her cheek. “I am alright.” She aided me to sit up, her hands so soft and gentle.

Although her hair is messy…

Did…

Did she rush towards me?

And her breathing is swift and heavy…

Y/N rushed towards me.

She cares about me?

She notices me?

Questions overflowing my mind and I just stared at her as she sanitize the wound on my arm. Her mouth muttering words yet romantic songs are all I could hear.

Y/N L/N is so concentrated in bandaging me, caring for me and in that moment…

I…

I dreamt a life with her.

I fantasized about her in the same dress and the same beret. She greeted me with an embrace as I came home from work. I could smell the freshly baked pie and the tea she prepared just for me. The fireplace has been lit and the season… the season is the same as now.

Autumn.

Yet still incomparable to her.

Can she perceive?

Perceive how much I gaze at her, how much I adore her?

If only she knows.

If only I could tell.

I could however…

What for?

When there goes John doing the simplest thing yet her orbs follow as he walks by.

Why confess what I feel when her orbs confess what she feels for John?

Just as my orbs confess how I feel for her.

I could only get to this point…

The point where I admire Y/N in autumn.

[windcarvedlyre]

I'm gonna turn that meme around on you: Venti and Jean? :>

(ask meme)

Ty :D

Honestly my answers will sort of be an inversion of yours: Jean as someone I really appreciate but I'm not actively into and Venti as unhealthy obsession and fandom bicycle. (Thanks for introducing me to that term, lol.)

Jean

How I feel about her: I don't brainrot over her for her own sake, but as my de facto main in co-op, the permanent healer in my overworld team, and one of Mondstadt's most important characters I'm very fond of her. She deserves more breaks. So so much.

Her design fascinates me too; if you use the alt version of her default outfit it looks very modest and like everything's covered when she's standing still, only for more skin to be exposed on her upper torso when you run or otherwise move around. It feels like a visual reflection of how she hides/suppresses the more human, emotional parts of herself to perform her role.

Romantic ships: I'm not actively into any but Jean/Lisa just makes sense to me. Lisa is such a fun character to bounce off her. You've got me intrigued about Jean/Eula and Jean/Kaeya as well, and I should look into Jean/Diluc too.

I s2g her voice lines make her sound like she's starting to have a crush on Traveller too. That could be really wholesome; they could periodically show up in Mond, speedrun solving a ton of citizens' problems, and whisk her off to beautiful corners of Teyvat she'd never dream of having time to visit otherwise. And they both have sibling issues... I'm selling myself on this as I type it, dear lord.

Platonic OTPs: All of the above are also wonderful platonically. Also Jean and Venti!! God!!! I neeeed more interactions between them; it's a massive shame the game never showed us Jean or Diluc processing the Venti-Barbatos reveal and the religious crisis that would definitely cause. Especially for Jean! I wish this oneshot was a longer multichapter so badly.

I'm fascinated by the idea of them having a lot in common under the surface, especially if we compare Jean to how Venti may have been in Mond's cultivation period. Even their outfits have a lot of design elements in common!

Additionally, considering her parallels with/idolisation of Vennessa, I love the idea of Venti having unresolved guilt/unprocessed trauma about whatever happened to Vennessa in the end + maybe her overworking herself for Mondstadt until her death, and him screaming internally watching Jean go down the same path. I can't get enough of fics where he helps her relax for once. The two of them should go on some long field trip where they coax each other into acknowledging they're people that feel things.

Unpopular opinion: Not sure I have any! I'm not familiar with general fandom opinions about her but I'd be surprised if I saw someone severely mischaracterising her, tbh. She doesn't feel like a difficult character to grasp. Maybe my perception's skewed since I tend to obsess over human dumpster fires, though.

Something I wish would happen: mainly (gestures at the platonic section), but seconding you that we need her to make progress with Barbara too. I'd love to see her be dragged into more shenanigans with Diluc as well, though I'm biased as a combined-Diluc-and-Jean main.

Venti

How I feel about him: I probably need help with the amount I think about this goddamn character. I didn't truly understand the term 'comfort character' until I started obsessing over him. I project onto him a bit too much and I want to emotionally smash him to bits and scrape him together again.

Even without the brainrot, he's just fascinating; he's clearly a significant character that will almost certainly be tied to massive lore drops later on, and the vague hints about him having time powers mean that even the way he fundamentally experiences reality can be theorised about with wildly different ideas being equally valid.

He has me freezing up at every damn mention of wind and/or time and/or music in this god-forsaken game. And there are a lot of them.

Romantic ships: as I said, he's the fandom bicycle for me. Everyone gets a ride. I especially love zhongven in multiple permutations, and their longevity means fanworks for other Venti ships can easily slot in past zhongven as well. Otherwise I really like kaeven, I used to be more into diluven but kaeven has completely eclipsed it for me, and I'm really intrigued about the potential of furiven as well (though I usually approach that platonically).

Non-romantic OTPs: any of the above if not being done romantically, plus Venti+Jean and Venti+Vennessa (see Jean's section lmao) and Venti+everyone in old mond- especially NB and RHW. And I really really want to see him interact with Furina. There are so many people he either has a fascinating relationship with already or has potential to.

While it's not a ship, I find the idea that he's slept with the Tsaritsa at least once pre-fallout very funny.

Edit: Venti having a non-reciprocated crush on Vennessa is interesting as well.

Unpopular opinions: I'm not sure I have any in a tumblr fandom context? Maybe that any ships between him and a mortal who's grown up worshipping him (like diluc/venti, jean/venti, etc) would be a lot more of an emotional minefield for both parties than people tend to explore, with the mortal having to go through a religious crisis while Venti clearly just wants to be treated like a person + could be paranoid as hell about whether their consent to anything is genuine.

That's not a criticism of those ships, though! The opposite, actually. I'd love to see a long fic that really digs into that.

Something I wish would happen: ...there are so many things I could put here. The main ones are a) a Venti-is-Barbatos reveal (and maybe a reveal of his darker secrets, like any abyss ties) to all of Mondstadt, forcing him to stop avoiding his problems for once, and b) for Venti to be pushed into a corner and/or go apeshit and reveal just how much he was lying about his power level.

I need a Vennessa-Venti reunion as well. Please please please.

[kfkr1ze]

[002-A12] If Love were to Disappear from the World

Summary — ✈︎ After Nanaki declared he wouldn’t watch the movie and left, Kaede chased after him. Kaede then suggested that they should rent bicycles.

Characters— ✈︎ Akuta, Nanaki, Ushio

Location: Beach in Shodoshima

Nanaki: …What is it? You followed me all the way out here. Weren’t you the one who said we had the entire afternoon to ourselves?

Kaede: That’s true, but…

(Nanaki-kun is acting really strangely, so it’s hard for me to just let him go on his own… Oh, that’s it!)

I wanted to know if you wanted to look around the island with me!

Nanaki: With you?

Kaede: Yeah! You know how that saying goes? “Good company makes for the best trips.” I also want to travel with you and deepen our friendship.

Nanaki: ……

Kaede: (He’s still hesitating… Just one more push…!

I wonder if I have something like an item I can use…)

Let’s rent bicycles and ride around! We could feel the breeze!

Kaede: (And afterwards…)

Akuta: Woohooo〜! It feels so good〜〜〜!

Cycling really is the best! You can go anywhere you want, and the wind feel so good〜!

Ushio: So even that idiot can like something like this. I’m impressed.

Nanaki: He probably can’t get a cold. [1]

Kaede: (When Nanaki-kun agreed, Akuta-kun suddenly came in saying, “I wanna go too!”)

(And when I asked Ushio-kun if he wanted to come cycling with us, he surprisingly gave his OK too…but.)

Nanaki: ……

Kaede: (His expression still looks a little stiff…)

Akuta: Hey hey hey Let’s play Shiritori [2]!

Did you guys know? I’m actually really good at Shiritori〜！

Ushio: How the hell would we know that? Use your common sense.

Kaede: Ah, then why don’t we do a positive Shiritori?

You’re only allowed to say words that are cheerful and uplifting.

Nanaki: ………

Akuta: Nice! I agree〜! I’ll start us out then!

Shiritori’s “ri”～！[3]

Nanaki: …… “Parting”.

Kaede: (That’s not positive at all…!)

T-T… “Tour”!

Ushio: Is this something I have to do too? Don’t include me as a player without even asking. It’s too much of a hassle. 

… “Yawn”.

Akuta: Eh, is yawn a positive word? It’s not right?

Ushio: Hah? Isn’t that subjective? 

It can be positive. Like that kinda refreshing yawn you give when you say “I’ll do my best today!” after you wake up. …… Yawns… Ah.

Kaede: (It looks like he’s yawning because he’s super bored, though…)

Akuta: I guess you can say that.

Then I’ll go with… “Hairdresser”!

I love the guy that I go to all the time! He’s super nice and fun to talk to!

Nanaki: … “Natural death”.

Kaede: “T-Tourist”!

Ushio: Speaking of being negative, hasn’t Panda been negative this whole time?

And Chief's only been talking about tourism.

Kaede: Panda?

Ushio: He has a pretty face, so he’s like a panda that’s only used to gather a crowd rather than something actually useful.

Anyways, I don’t see the point in continuing this. It’s only a waste of timeーー

Uwahpu!

Kaede: What’s wrong Ushio-kunーー Uwah?!

Akuta: DYAAAAAAH!

Kaede: Are you two okay!?

Akuta: Owww… ow ow ow…

Kaede: Did you guys get injured!?

Ushio: It… flew.

Kaede: Eh?

Ushio: There was a huge bug flying around that was over 5mm in size! I need to spray the bug spray! Let’s take a break!

Ushio: Hah… Hah… I never heard of bugs getting that big… I can’t stand them…! 

Kaede: (He keeps spraying around with bloodshot eyes…)

Akuta: Spray me too, spray me too〜.

Ushio: … I don’t want any bugs that go on Idiotake to come near me either. 

Fine, today can be a special exception.

Akuta: Yay!

Ushio: … You too.

Kaede: Wah, thank you!

Then, Nanaki-kun, you tooーー

Nanaki: ………

Kaede: (He put in earbuds… Is he in shutdown mode?

I wonder what happened…)

Do you know what happened to Nanaki-kun?

Ushio: Do you really think I would know?

Kaede: … Sorry.

Ushio: If you're going to apologize, then don’t ask in the first place.

Look, Idiotake is going off on his own again. Would you want him to get lost like he did before?

Kaede: You’re right…!

Hey, Akuta-kun! Wait up! Over there is no good!

Ushio: Now then…

Nanaki: ………

Ushio: ………

Nanaki: ……Sighs……

Ushio: (Uwahh… He’s just sighing loudly. Is he trying to get attention?)

(So what if they look a little bit alike?

No, it’s because they look alikeーー)

Nanaki: ………Sighs.

Ushio: Wow… Totally different vibe from his image.

Location: Angel Road in Shodoshima

Kaede: Wow, here’s the narrow path that leads to the island! 

It looks like we came at just the right time!

Akuta: What is it, What is it? Where is this〜? Huh, what island is that?

Kaede: This path that we’re on is called the Angel Road. The tides cause the path to disappear and reappear. If you come at the right time, you can use it to go to that island over there.

Nanaki: ………

Kaede: Angel Road is also known as the road where an angel comes to grant love. 

Tourist A: Interesting…

Kaede: It’s said that if you cross the pathway while holding hands with your partner, an angel will descend between you two and grant your wish. It’s a popular romantic tourist destination.

Tourist B: Eh really…?

Kaede: Then, you’ll reach the Hill of Promises. Once you climb it and reach the observation area, you can ring the “Bell of Happiness,” also known as the “Bell of Love”ーー

Tourist C: And then? And then??

Kaede: (Ah, huh…? Before I realized it, a bunch of tourists started surrounding us…)

Ushio: Maybe they think you’re a free tour guide or something? What’re you gonna do? At this rate, there’s going to be a panic.

Kaede: Sorry, it’s a habit of mine…!

Sorry, could I ask you guys to help me out?

We couldn’t just leave these people alone. Let’s show them our best hospitality…!

「OMOTENASHI BATTLE」

Kaede: Uu… I’m glad that… Everyone ended up pleased!

Everyone, thank you! Good work today!

Akuta: I’m a little tired y’knooow?

Kaede: But, we’re able to go to the island now since the Angel Road is here. Also, we’re able to see the Angel Route lights, which only get lit this late into the day, so I’m glad.

Akuta: Can I say one more thing～～～！？

THERE’S WAAAAAY TO MANY COUPLES!!!!

THERE’S TOO MANY PEOPLE HOLDING HANDS WITH EACH OTHER!!!!

Ushio: They look so stupid.

They’re getting wrapped up in a legend that has no proof whatsoever.

Akuta: I’M SOOOO JEALOUS!!! I WANNA HOLD HANDS TOO!!!

Ushio, hold my hand! Connect with me! We aren’t a couple, though!

Ushio: Hell no. Stay away from me. I feel like I’d catch your idiocy.

Akuta: Don’t say thaaat～～～！

My hand is craving yours, Ushio～！

Satisfy my・heart～～～！

Ah, there’s a huge bug on Ushio’s shoulder. A tropical one?

Ushio: HGYAAAAAAAAH!

Akuta: It’s ALLLL good! I’ll get it off of you, so hold stillーー

Ushio: Gh…! Don’t touch me!

Kaede: Ah! Ushio-kun, watch outーー

Akuta: Woow… Ushio turned into seaweed floating in the sea.

Hey here, I’ll help you out, so give me your hand. Then we can connect.

Ushio: You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you…

I hate it, so definitely not. And I hate seaweed too.

Kaede: (I’m glad I brought a towel just in case. 

And also…)

Nanaki-kun is really late huh.

I wonder where he wandered off to.

Akuta: He probably got swept up in the panic from earlier. I think I saw him getting washed away by a group of people near that island there〜.

Kaede: (Is he still on that other island!? In that case, I have to go back…!)

I’m sorry! You two go on ahead first!  

There are towels in my bag!

???: I really wanna see this movie! We should go to a cinema!

Nanaki: Yeah. Then why don’t we go this summer? 

An island would be really nice. It’d feel like a relaxing vacation.

???: Ohh, that sounds good! Then let’s go.

Don’t go making promises with anyone else, okay?

Nanaki: I wasn’t going to!

… I already decided to go with you.

Nanaki: There are a lot of seashell ema’s [4] hanging around here… They’re from a bunch of different couples.

……

(To hold hands with the person that you love… I wonder what that feels like.)

(To love a person so much, and have that person return your feelings… It’s like a miracle.)

(All of the people who wrote these emas made that miracle happen. …Something I wasn’t able to do.)

… I’m so jealous… It hurts.

(No matter how many times I think about it, it doesn’t make any sense. 

No matter how many times I ruminate over it, how many times I regret feeling like this…)

(No matter how many times I wished for it, it never came true.)

I’ll go back now. …Hm?

(Before I knew it, it got way darker than I thought it was. There’s no one else aroundーー …This is bad. I’m completely alone.)

I wonder if the road will end up getting blocked at this rate?

… Well, even if I can’t get home, I don’t even care anymore.

I’m so disgusted with myself. Haha.

Kaede: Nanaki-kuuun!

Nanaki: …… Huh?

Kaede: Nanaki-kun! Nanaki-kuーー Ah, there you are!

Previous — ✈︎ Masterlist — ✈︎ Next

Notes — ✈︎

I believe this is referencing the whole idiots can't catch colds thing? I’m actually not too sure on their exchange here. I’ll change it if I think it’s wrong.

Shiritori is a word chain ! Basically, you start by taking the end of Shiritori and using the last syllable, ri, as the beginning of the next word. The next person has to do the same with the word just said.

I was going to make the Shiritori game make sense in English, but some words are super specific that I don’t really have a substitute for, so I kept it as it is. Here’s how their words worked for the game if you’re interested! しりとり - Shiritori, 離別 - Ribetsu, ツアー - Tsuaa, あくび - Akubi, 美容師 - Biyoushi, 自然消滅 - Shizen shoumetsu, ツーリスト - Tsuurisuto

Emas are small plaques used to write wishes or prayers !

[noowayybroo]

Bite Shift (Part 1) (ignore my bad names)

Characters: GN!Vampire!Reader, Corrupt Cop!Leon Kennedy

Warnings: Blood, Mentions of Assault + Violence, GN!Vampire!Reader, Corrupt Cop!Leon Kennedy. Mentions of / attempted non-con, biting n vampires n stuff (NSFW for violence's sake), Reader is AGAIN GN for purpose of inclusivity! None of the reader's age, job title, gender or appearances described also.

This fic is not for the faint of heart holy flip and Leon WILL get hurt in it. Leon is entirely inspired by @lipglossanon's Corrupt Cop Leon character and Character.ai Bot which are amazing n you should go look NOW!

FORGET THIS POST, JUST LEAVE!

In this fic, Our dirty little evil Leon will offer the reader a ride home (Out of the blackness in his heart), but instead of returning the Reader home, will attempt to have his way with them. Little does Leon know, the reader is a frickin' vampire, and absolutely makes him pay. I'm not a huge fan of Leon being anything but sweet, but here we get to make him pay!!! So rejoice!

I'm keeping this short as hell cuz I don't love the idea and I don't know what to do or how to take it seriously... Sorry!

It's 7:16pm (Oddly specific, I know) and you're making your way home along a main road by foot. It's been a busy day and everyone's seemed to have had some sort of issue, either with you or for you to resolve. You do love your job, you do, but waiting for it to get dark enough for you to head home without feeling uncomfortable under the sun's rays often gets... mundane.

The rain is pouring down through closely-knitted dark clouds, splattering heavily onto the road and pavement around you. This morning, much to your displeasure, the sky was bright and blue, not a speck of white nor grey against it. That leaves you, now, entirely unprepared. You hurry along the fairly busy road, holding the collar of your coat up firmly, trying to pull it to a close above your head with both hands. Otherwise, your mind is pleasantly empty, despite being preoccupied with your minor inconvenience.

The rhythm at which cars pass you on your 25 minute-or-so walk is comforting, and you often find yourself keeping tally of the quantities of each make you can see, or how many pass you, travelling in the same direction as you or otherwise. The drivers of each bicycle, motorcycle, car and lorry are fairly well-mannered, and whilst it has happened to you in the past, nobody's splashed you today... yet.

Admittedly, it'd have been nice to have brought an umbrella with you, for the sake of your own appearance and dignity. Overall though, it felt quite good to let yourself get swept up in the winds and drenched in the downpour after such an uneventful, samey day. You're around 10 minutes' walk from your home when you hear a car slow beside you. You worry for a second - perhaps it was someone looking for directions? Perhaps it was a mugging? (though it'd never happened to you, there was always the possibility.) Whatever it was, there were no turnings nearby, so it was certainly odd enough to notice by sound alone.

You turn on your heels and, depending on how you look at it, see something worse: A police car.

It looks brand new, as do the glittering blue eyes in the driver's seat, beaming back at you as his window rolls down. Inside the car seems to be a lone officer, pulled up quite close to the side of the road to let other traffic pass as he greets you. His long, silver hair is tousled across his face, lazily swept to the side of his young, seemingly innocent features. You wonder how he can focus on the road or on his work, having to flick or brush his mane from his view every few seconds, as he does before speaking:

"Heyy... I uhh.. I couldn't help but notice you walking alone in this rain, are you- do you need a lift? I can get the heaters on and we can warm you right up-", his voice is hesitant but determined, almost as though he's already decided on the outcome of this encounter. It strikes you as odd, to see a police officer patrolling these quiet roads at 7pm, but you don't mind him too much if he's keeping people safe. You stop, courteously, to hear him out and offer him a response.

"I'm alright, thanks. Just- uh... not long to go now!" You chirp reassuringly as rain dribbles down your face. You continue to walk, eager to get back home into the warm; into the dry. Whilst it may have been a little risky to be out here on your own, no attacker could be prepared for the means which you had to defend yourself, nor were you too weak to continue your walk, of which you'd already completed about 15 minutes.

The man seems taken aback somewhat, as if he'd entirely expected you to leap into his car, into his open arms, and allow him to take you wherever he'd pleased. His excitable eyes almost cutely rest on your figure, as your soggy clothes hug tightly to and weigh down on them, before he snaps himself out of his trance and gets back to pressing matters. Or rather, back to pressing you.

The low hum of his engine can be heard, as Leon begins to slowly roll alongside you, following you. His car is very close to you, probably to stay out of the way of the traffic in his lane, but it makes you feel slightly caged.

"It's absolutely pouring down, and you look like you're freezing", he persists, giving you another syrupy sweet smile. His voice has this eager edge to it; he really wants you to get in the car. You begin to have your suspicions about why he's so desperate. For a while you are silent as you keep walking alongside his car, thinking to yourself for a while about just how pure his intentions are, and what you might do about it if they're not. Meanwhile, Leon seems to be awaiting an answer. Of course, you don't yet know his name, which is suspicious, too, isn't it?

"Honestly, I don't want to trouble you sir.", you say, forcing a polite smile, although your slightly fearful and more so annoyed emotion shows in your raised brows and the twitch in the corner of your lips. "It's just about 5 minutes' down", you motion ahead vaguely.

Just when you think you've shook him, the officer's eyes light up - he's had an idea. You and Leon hadn't gotten off on the right foot, to say the least, and so you could only dread what his incessant mind had concocted. Meanwhile, you avoid eye contact, and continue to walk, picking up the pace slightly.

"Really?? I live that way too! I've just gotten off work, you see, and...", hm, sounds innocent enough, you think. "I'd hate for something to happen to you.", you hear him say, trailing behind you a little now as he leans from his window. Yep... There it was.

Whilst his voice is chirpy and innocent, his words certainly are not. They're laced with some kind of dark intention, or at least thoughts of such, and you find yourself wondering just what this man was up to. Seeing you being clearly quite taken-aback, Leon quickly spots his mistake and attempts to make amends: "I-I mean, I'm new on this job, right?? But the horrors- the things I've seen... There's... There's horrible people out there." He looks around, enacting scanning your surroundings for said 'horrible people', further trying to sell you his lie through his shaky voice.

All you can think of really is how easily someone else might've fallen for this, or been coerced into following the cop's orders. Here's where you become curious now: What exactly is he planning? Furthermore, how many people has he done this to? Were you his first? In truth, that would be very, very unfortunate for him. Would you be able to feed-

Your thoughts are abruptly halted has his car swerves in front of you, cutting you off as he stares at you through that window still. He's barely been able to take his eyes off of you. He's been studying you, examining you, he's trying to calculate how and when to pounce. His car has cut off your walk-way pretty definitely. If you want to get around him, it'll take about a minute of trudging up a grassy bank, or coming face to face with a relentless stream of cars. Knowing this, Leon looks victorious, he seems to think he's won.

What was his prize, though? At this point, you were quite disgusted by the man before you. Sure, he was cute, perhaps hot if you milked your imagination hard enough, but he was pressuring you, and perhaps others, and his intentions just seemed... off.

People who can't take 'no' for an answer...

Yucky...

You weren't sure if you were really planning to feed on him tonight, or if it was your curiosity and the slight burning rage growing within you, but you decided to hop on board. Slowly, reluctantly, you go to open Leon's front passenger door, leaving him gleefully grinning. You can almost read the "I did it, I actually did it!" on the front page of his mind. ...This as well as other thoughts he might be having as his eyes remain trained on you and your body as you climb in and remove your coat, leaving it on the floor before buckling up which earns you a giggle from him.

"It's alright, No worries about the coat" Leon smiles honestly, turning on his heating as promised to warm you up as he begins to drive again. He wears a warm smile as he continues down the road, giddy, like a child who's just stolen candy and gotten away with it. Behind that smile, there's something a little more black and calculating. He seems sly, proud of himself and disingenuous.

You look away, attempting to give him the silent treatment for the most part, signalling towards your clear discomfort. Even then, when you do steal glances at your 50/50 hero or captor, you avoid eye contact. As you sit there, arms folded, gazing out of your rain-besieged window, Leon attempts to make small-talk, including telling you his name: 'Officer Leon Kennedy', as he seemingly feels more confident now.

You do not wonder why.

Leon tells you he's going to continue down the road, and asks you to let him know if he needs to make a turning or pull over to get to yours. Once you've nodded in agreement, he asks you about your personal life, what job you work, whether you're studying, if you live with anyone, and how long you've lived in the area, for some examples. A lot of information for the short ride, but a lot of time's left for him due to the short, curt nature of your answers. You address him with a polite smile each time though and it works, he doesn't seem to mind.

He seems nice enough, you think as you watch your apartment approach over the horizon gradually. You prepare to let him know to stop.

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

Guess who just discovered the small text feature!! This guy!

I've noticed also a lot of RE fics are written in American English, with American English phrases! I'm not sure if you've figured, but I tend to have a more Bri'sh approach! I hope this is ok! &lt;3

Many thanks again for reading my nonsense! Ily! I decided to separate this in parts cuz I'm boutta go sleep and if any of you guys read this and like it maybe I can get a gauge if I should actually continue or not or how I should go about doing that

My plan ultimately for the next part is as follows:

-Reader tells Leon their stop is soon

-Leon says nothing n ignores Reader

-Leon drives reader to sussy quiet place

-Leon attempts to have way with Reader

-Reader absolutely does not take that for an answer

-Someone's neck gets nommed and let me tell you he won't be a happy boy

If you like this fic, PLEASE go and look at @lipglossanon Like 100% inspired by them + really good place to go if you like Leon trust me <3

[gadriezmannsgirl]

This was the other request that my dear, @mqsi passed me on and it says: Heyy, I have a request maybe were you take pedri/gavi to your native country and do all kind of things there. I'm from Amsterdam so like biking around (I think Gavi would fail🤣) and like fluffly things.

Truly sorry for the lateness of this, being honest I didn't know what to do with this one😭. This is a little blurb, btw

Also, this request got me imagining taking either Gavi or Pedri to🇻🇪 for vacations🤣 @gaviypedrisbride can you imagine? 🤣🤭🥴

Your World -P.G

Summary: You show Gavi the place you're from

°°° °°° °°° °°°

"C'mon, bebé" You said watching Gavi once more lose a bit of control with his bicycle "You can do it"

"I know I can" He said stopping making you stop as well "It's just this fucking bike that is not doing what I say" You suppressed laugh

"Your feet and hands are the ones telling what to do"

"And it doesn't cooperate!" This time you laughed leaning over to leave a kiss on his cheek giggling

"What about we do something else?" You tried to come up with another thing. Pablo and you were in your home, Amsterdam; he wanted to know your place, where you grew up when you were five and what did you do in the city that brought so many good memories from you and seeing as he got a week off he wanted to spend it there with you.

You were on your third day here, the first one spent on recovering from the jet lag and the other walking around the city when Pablo asked you for the usual stuffs you do there, so these next days were about that.

And everybody should know, in Amsterdam all you do is biking around, so that's how you ended up here.

"Eventually I have to get this" You nod

"You will. Just don't put too much preassure on you" You giggled

"What do we do then?" He asked sat on the bike's seat.

"We can go to Anne Frank's House Museum" He cut you off

"For that you need to have tickets, preciosa"

"Who says I don't?" You smiled winking at him "We can also go to the STRAAT Museum, which is a museum dedicated to graffiti and street art. We can do a canal cruise, eat something in Foodhallen..." You shrug your shoulders "You tell me what do you wanna do first, lindo" You looked at him

"How about we do all of that?" Your smile grew

"Great! That's perfect! I really hoped you said something among those lines because we have to be at Anne Frank's House Museum in the next hour and we're aproximatedly fourty-five minutes away"

"Why didn't you said that before?" He asked surprised

"I kinda forgot" You said slowly "It's really distratcing for me watching you fool around and act cute with the bike" You laugh

"My falls aren't cute" You keep on laughing whilst nodding your head

"They are and the pout you do makes me want to kiss you everytime" You smiled "We need to go so we can make it"

"Amor but the bikes aren't cooperating with me!" His eyebrows furrowed a bit "Also can you give me those kisses?" You rolled your eyes lightly smiling but still gave him a few pecks on his lips, the last kiss being the longest one

"Let's change these for a double seat one then"

"Wait, what?"

"Yes"

"No!"

...

"C'mon, Pabs... All you need to do is pedal, I'm gonna lead us. Please, don't make us fall"

"Please, don't say that" You laugh reaching behind to grab his hand.

"You can pay dinner for this, amorcito. Don't you worry" You said beggining your travel when you felt Pablo scream "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!"

...

"So, you liked today?" You ask smiling as he feed you a bit of his ice cream

"Those were so many stairs" You laughed

"Aren't you a football player? Don't you spent 90 minutes running around a pitch?"

"That's different!"

"How's that even different? You need resistence to manage the whole game and you couldn't climb a few stairs?"

"A few" He mumbled shaking his head as you laugh

"The rest was nice" He nodded "But I keep telling you, there was a big fish on that cruise"

"There aren't but if they are? You let them be"

"Not if they were going to attack me and my girlfriend!" You laugh at his silliness

"Do you like my place?" You ask for real this time as he nods

"It's truly beautiful and I can't wait to explore more of it and keep on coming back every chance we got" You smiled

"And you will learn how to bike, right?"

"I know how to!" Pablo exclaimed "It's just the bikes here are different from Spain's ones" You laughed

"That doesn't even make sense, Pabs. Bikes are bikes, all over the world"

"It doesn't matter, next time here I'll crush them" He looked at you leaning down to kiss you "But I really enjoyed the double one" You high five him

"I know you did"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld

[cellarspider]

11/30: Full steam ahead

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We return to Body Desecrator 2093, Prometheus. There were no post this weekend because I felt like it. Now I feel like it even less, because it’s this scene.

The horrors do not end here. The movie hasn’t even got to what it considers horrors, but I’d already screamed quietly at the screen by this point several times, so it’s safe to say that me and the movie were not simpatico.

There are times when a movie will do things that fall entirely outside your personal beliefs or understanding of logic, and you just roll with it. Magical realism does this all the time, as do movies reaching for the psychedelic. 2001: A Space Odyssey eventually dissolves reality itself around the protagonist as he travels through another dimension. On the first sit, you have no way of knowing what you’ll be shown next, but if the movie’s got you, then you go with it.

Then there are movies where everyone is acting according to some sort of logic, but it feels twisted, like things are happening for a reason, but the logic doesn’t connect. Horror movies love this, particularly ones with cultic antagonists–Midsommar being the most notable modern example, and the original Wicker Man being another.

I mean, the Nick Cage movie also has that, but sometimes it has that because Nick Cage is in a bear costume, punching a woman in the face and stealing bicycles at gunpoint like he’s in GTA.

Prometheus, unfortunately, unintentionally places itself somewhere between the two Wicker Men. The characters’ decision making is a shambolic mess. The movie intentionally invokes religious fervor in Shaw especially, and might intentionally invoke that plus megalomania in Holloway, but it doesn’t draw a line around those characters and their bad decisions. Everyone is just going with their bullshit. This suggests to the audience that in the movie’s world all scientists behave like this.

I mean, in our world, scientists sometimes try to fit entire oranges in their mouths (source), but I should like to think that The Orange Incident wouldn’t have happened if that guy had been on board the most important scientific expedition in human history.

Things just kept happening in this movie that made me feel like I was dissociating. The cast is back at the Prometheus, with their stolen artifacts and mortal remains. Cool. They need to be decontaminated. Like, inside and out.

Next, we see Shaw and Holloway in a lab, along with Maybe-Chemist-Lady whose name fell right out of my head as I watched, because she’s never given a character to speak of. They are wearing scrubs, hairnets, and blue surgical masks, which tells me the movie thinks this is appropriate personal protective equipment for handling an alien head. Holloway is sitting on a counter in the corner, getting drunk.

So many things have just hit me here. How long is this since they got back? Apparently no more than a couple hours. These people took their helmets off in an active alien biosphere, with worms in the dirt and an alien corpse on the ground and who knows what else. They should be quarantined forever, or at least for a couple weeks. 

When the Apollo 11 crew got back to Earth, they were quarantined for 21 days. NASA didn’t consider it likely that anything lived on the moon, but they were taking no chances. Here’s Nixon getting a chance to see what good people look like!

But no! No quarantine for Prometheus! The guys who breathed moon dust? Into the quarantine trailer. The people who stuck their faces near an alien corpse? Nah! It’s all good!

What about the head they looted from the structure? These people already got a dramatic reminder that altering the conditions around sensitive artifacts can cause them to degrade. I’ve already rambled at length about how NASA still sterilizes their equipment to not contaminate anywhere probes are sent to. Hell, as a geneticist, I can tell you that there is a very strict hierarchy of sample isolation and biosafety deployed when it’s appropriate–either you work fucking hard to protect the samples from you, or you work hard to protect yourself from the sample. 

But the crew of the Prometheus have scanned the head with a little light and declared “Sample is sterile. No contagion present”, which is an odd thing to declare now, after they already breathed all over it. Trusting their all-knowing (and wrong) computer, they take their surgical masks off. Fully sealed suits? A glovebox? Even movies show people using a glovebox sometimes!

NOPE! HAIRNETS AND A LABCOAT, LET’S GO

Do we kick out Shaw’s boyfriend who’s in his casual clothes? NAH, LET THE MAN BE COMFY. Are we going to pry the bottle away from him, because bringing drinks into a lab breaks basic safety standards? Standards that I’ve only ever seen broken by one place that also allowed open-toe sandals in a lab where boiling hot gel and mutagenic chemicals were regularly mixed? NOPE, LET HIM HAVE HIS BOOZE, HE’S SAD HE DIDN’T GET TO MEET GOD.

Don’t worry, that one lab doesn’t do the sandal thing anymore. And Holloway will pay for his crimes against laboratory safety.

But I can't stress enough how utterly uncanny this scene felt, unintentionally on the part of the movie. Every decision felt wrong. Everything everyone was doing, saying, and wearing was wrong. They’re not even wearing the right kind of gloves! They should at minimum be wearing nitrile gloves! They’re wearing PVC gloves, which have stupid high leakage rates, even if you double-glove! They’re not even more comfortable than nitrile gloves! This is my nittest of picks, I know! I’m doing it anyway!

The movie had lost me, but part of me was still hoping it would come back around, that something in it would be the movie I’d thought it would be.

Next time: the movie will not do that, and I will, paradoxically, find myself in more of the frame of mind the movie seems to want from the audience: not giving a shit about its characters. 

Stay tuned for some bonus workplace hazards below the citations.

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1. https://youtu.be/P1gn06np-7g  2. https://youtu.be/KhRo2WbWnKU?t=35 3. https://youtu.be/JjCh7lTVNwo  4. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Airstream#Space_program  5. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Astronaut_transfer_van  6. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Umarell  7. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Upgrade_(film)#Production

Alright, let’s behold some images from my institute’s safety training module on compressed gas cylinders. Please note, these were not taken at my institute, these are probably the result of the team finding cursed images they wanted to inflict on their coworkers and us.

This was how they chose to communicate the idea of “don’t let canisters heat up, or they might explode”. How else might they explode? If the canister becomes old and corroded, develops any other sort of fault, or is stored improperly, especially near cylinders of other kinds. Like so!

This is the least bombastic of the images, but it exudes a quiet menace and/or the promise that Video Game Physics are imminent.

What do I mean by Video Game Physics? Glad you asked!

Terrifying yet also compelling! Finally, here’s a video from that most terrifying of places, a Russian highway.

Video description, which I realize I haven’t been doing up to this point and now I want to: A GazpromTech company truck carrying unsecured acetylene tanks passes a motorist on a separated highway at high speed. On the side of it, “ОГНЕОПАСНО” (“FLAMMABLE”) is briefly visible as it rockets by. It makes no to minimal attempt to slow down as a bus enters its lane, rear-ending it. The viewpoint car skids to a stop, and what might be the truck driver can be seen sprinting toward the central barrier of the highway. “Scream & Shout” by will.i.am and Britney Spears can be heard playing on the radio as the viewpoint car tries to back away, complete with an audible “Britney, bitch”. At 0:54 the view cuts to a camera on the other side of the highway, which one commenter estimated as being 200 m away based on the delay between explosions and the sound of the blast reaching the camera. 

There are, in fact, MANY explosions from the fireball that has engulfed the truck. A semi tanker is being guided backward away from the explosion, while a blue box truck does the same. A silver sedan, briefly visible in the first angle, is parked within under 50 feet of the truck. Its apparent owner is dithering on whether to try and reach it, eventually deciding, as they should, that this is not worth it. The cameraperson, on the other hand, apparently thinks this is worth it, as do several others in the other lane. 

One man is filming on a tablet. Multiple times, canisters and truck shrapnel can be seen rocketing off from the wreck to distances that make it clear everybody in shot is well within decapitation range from these things, especially as explosions fling more burning cylinders onto the roadway. At 1:45, Tablet Man gets the fuck out of there, but our self preservation-less cameraperson remains. At 2:14, a flaming canister in blown clear of the wreck and lands with its bottom end pointing directly toward the cameraperson, who still does not take the hint. Starting at 2:37, the body of the truck is blasted apart, a canister goes flying off past the camera, and a piece of the truck flips and lands on a nearby road sign. 

At 3:32 another cut happens and there are more people standing in view of the camera. Are they official emergency crew? Nope! Rubberneckers, although the cop car that’s even closer than them gets a wakeup call when a canister slams into the divider in front of it and tumbles away, still spitting gas. The cop backs up, and the video ends.

End description. Also, end post.

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[seat-safety-switch]

A lot of people ask me: just how many foreign bearded ladies did your dad fuck when he was travelling the world, hoping for any circus that would take him? The answer seems to always be: “one more.” Thanksgiving is busy. My half-brother, Saito Safety-Switch, grew up in a deprived environment. His childhood was spent in opulent comfort, wanting for nothing… except what his genes demanded. His body and mind screamed out for a shitty American car, yet none were available to him in the xenophobic and closed-minded world of Japanese so-called “high society.”

One morning, he was riding his 24-speed race bicycle (affixed with homemade “HUFFY” and “BURGER KING” stickers) past a dingy three-car dealership, shoved into the corner of two pachinko parlours and a restaurant where you could make out with a girl pretending to be a train station ticket dispensing robot for ¥350/hr. That’s when he saw it.

Now, things were worse back then. We didn’t have the Hunter-Killers. The Japanese had not invented the New Atmospheric Miracle. Human nerves were slower than light speed. All he had was a lot of worthless fiat currency in search of Fiats. Or, as he found it, a Dodge Michigan.

The Dodge Michigan is a product of Chrysler Corporation becoming delaminated even more than usual during the Cocaine Era. They thought: Japanese people love front-wheel drive cars. They thought: Japanese people love foreign luxury cars. They thought: we should sell them a 1986 Dodge Aries with fancy tail lights. They were wrong.

It took several months for Saito to convince the shaken inspectors that it was even a real car, ultimately choosing to purchase the inspection corporation through a shell company and having the former executives forcibly uploaded to the Heavens.

Friends: the 2.2 litre iron block shit-stirrer sitting comfortably inside the Michigan as it left its depressing American hometown for the promised land of the Pacific Rim did not last long. “Inefficient,” the tax authorities claimed, and penalized Saito. Here’s the thing about being the adopted child of Japan’s richest bearded-lady fetishist: you’ve had enough “original” for your entire life. It came out. The 13B Mazda rotary from a Roadpacer went in. And just to stick it in Uncle Nippon’s eye, a couple turbochargers. American, of course, built in one of the last surviving sentient manufactories before the Exultation.

By the time the authorities had recovered from their database failure and machine-mind emotional cascade collapse, I was on the ground in Haneda to meet my step-bro for some extremely complicated coffee. I didn’t expect what I’d be getting picked up in.

Somehow, he’d managed to hire folks to Sawzall actual subway hanger straps from the Chicago e-line, complete with the internal structure to retain the rails. It was pasted from stem to stern with imported industrial grit, ground into the carbon fibre’s centimetre thick bass boat clear in lieu of mica flake. And the tires were wide enough, secured in tripled-up Trans Am (the series, not the model) box overfenders, that two members of the Highway Code committee resigned in protest rather than be pushed into making an exception for what Saito’s humourless and unpredictably violent lobby group described as “experimental aircraft.”