#sorry for the long delay between episodes

[theyonapodcast]

We’re back with more Palace Arc this week on The Yona Podcast!

We cover Yon-Hi’s diary and all the sad, poor decisions Yona and Soo-Won’s parents made. Then, in the present, we get to see Yona act as a badass politician while Soo-Won gets sicker and Hak gets thrown in jail. It’s a great time. 

Please check us out on Spotify or wherever you listen to podcasts. If you have a Twitter, you can find us over there, too!

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The Best Friend Showdown

Season four had many, many flaws. One of the big ones was the Rena Rouge vs Chat Noir conflict where Ladybug starts relying on Alya more and more, basically using her to replace Master Fu. We get a sense that Chat Noir feels inferior to Rena Rouge because of this change, but it’s never directly addressed. The most we get is this conversation from Hack-San:

Ladybug: I'm really sorry, Cat Noir. I should've told you. I mean, if I found out that you told someone about your secret identity, I'd... probably be upset, too. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings. Cat Noir: You didn't hurt my feelings. You did everything right. 

Which is actually a really weird bit of dialogue because - as far as I can tell - nothing in the episode revealed that Scarabella knew Ladybug's identity. She hands out miraculous all the time and no one knows who she really is. Why would this time be different? Ladybug could just show up in costume, explain what's up, and then hand off the earrings while using yet another miraculous.

Anyway, the Rena Rouge vs Chat Noir conflict is “resolved” by Rena Rouge being outed again (and I guess that matters this time), leading her to give up her miraculous so that Gabriel can’t steal it away, which of course leads Gabriel to steal it away and fully disempower Ladybug’s larger team, leaving Chat Noir her only teammate.

How satisfying! This is such good, character-driven story telling!

It’s not. This is plot contrivances to the max with no meaningful character beats, but we’re not here to talk about that. We’re here to do one of my favorite things: gush about a relevant Kim Possible episode! Today’s topic is episode 12 of season one: Pain King vs. Cleopatra, the episode that introduces Kim’s female BFF, Monique!

This was a bit of a shocker for me because I didn’t realize that Kim and Monique weren’t pre-series friends. Turns out that, much like Alya, Monique is a new girl, which isn’t a bad call. This was a nice way to delay Monique’s introduction for a few episodes so that the writers could focus on establishing Kim’s relationship with other key members of the cast like her partner, Ron. Spacing out your intros is the way to go whenever you can pull it off as it’s a kindness to your audience that keeps them from feeling overwhelmed, making it more likely that they’ll remember your cast.

The other, more important similarity between Alya and Monique is that, when Kim’s hero partner and life-long friend finds out about Monique, he is less than thrilled:

Kim: I barely got to see them. Right after I hooked up with Monique, the museum was robbed by some glowing-headed animal guy. Ron: Oh, that's nice. Ron: Wait a minute, who's Monique? Kim New friend, really great. Anyway, the thief stole an enchanted ancient talisman. Ron: Whoa, whoa, back up! How can I not know about a new friend? Kim: I met her at Club Banana, then again at the museum before I chased the glowing robber. Ron: So what's she like? Kim: The robber? Ron: The friend, Kim, the "new friend".

Throughout the episode, Kim and Monique continue to bond without Ron, leaving Ron feeling left out:

Ron: Seein' a pattern here, Rufus: Kim does her thing, I do my thing, and pretty soon - we're doing different things.

Which leads him to get a little territorial:

Kim Ron! What are you doing here? Ron: Can I dine with my best friend and her new friend? Kim: Uuh, Ron, Monique, and vice versa. Ron: Bearclaw? Monique: No, thanks, I'm vegetarian. Ron: Uhm, I'm pretty sure it's imitation bear? Kim: She's joking, Ron. Ron: Good one, hahaha, ha, good one. So, did Kim tell you that I'm her sidekick? Cause that role is definitely taken by me. Monique: Riiiight. Well, in... you know I better get to class. Later, Kim. Um, n-nice meeting you, Ron. Ron: Likewise, I'm sure! Kim: What is your problem? You're acting really weird. Ron: Well, let's see. You went to the museum with Monique, not me. Monique was with you this morning, not me. Hmm, pattern? Kim: Yeah. You. Weird. Ron: No, we're drifting apart because you're excluding me. Kim: I am not excluding you. It's just that you and Monique are... different.

Noticing some similarities to Miraculous here?

So how does Kim Possible resolve this conflict?

Well, the plot of this episode resolves around Kim Possible’s version of professional wrestling, the GWA. There’s a competition going on that Kim has no interest in watching (mood), but when Kim mentions the GWA to Monique:

Monique: Why didn't you bring [Ron] along? Kim: Unless someone put a waiter in a headlock, this is definitely not Ron's scene. Besides, he had a date with "Steel Toe". Monique: He scored tickets to Mayhem in Middleton? The GWA rocks! Kim: What?

It turns out that Monique and Ron have a shared interest! Multiple shared interests, in fact! Interests that Kim does not share:

Monique: You know, I still can't believe you met Pain King and Steel Toe. Ron: I can't believe you're into wrestling. Kim: I can't believe I know either one of you.

By the end of the episode, the conflict is resolved not with Kim having to pick a BFF or with Monique somehow being demoted, but by showing that this didn’t need to be a conflict at all. Kim can have multiple close friends that she shares different interests with without any of those friends being lesser. Those friends can, in turn, have their own friendships that don’t always involve her.

It’s a genuinely lovely resolution that makes me love this little friend group because it now has added complexity. Monique and Ron are friends in their own right! Kim is not the center of the universe in spite of her main character status!

I also love that Kim isn’t vilified for having other friends or portrayed as constantly leaving Ron out of things that he'd want to do in favor of Monique. Ron genuinely would not enjoy most of the things that the girls love to do together. At the same time, Ron’s feeling aren’t treated as totally irrational either and Kim even admits to ditching him. It’s a genuine, complex conflict that is super common when someone enters a new relationship be it platonic or romantic.

Obviously Kim Possible’s version of this conflict feels far less complex than Miraculous’ because Kim Possible understood that Ron should be Kim’s one-and-only partner, so his position was really never threatened. Monique does not want to be an action hero and is never given the sort narrative weight that elevates her to Ron’s level or higher, but that doesn't matter. The basic lesson here is still relevant and super important for the intended audience of both of these shows.

There did not need to be a Rena Rouge vs Chat Noir conflict that never got properly resolved. Miraculous could have made these two friends and no, Scarabella doesn't count because Chat Noir has no idea that Scarabella is Rena Rouge/Furtive. Their relationship ended at the end of Hack-San. He didn't even know that Rena Furtive was a thing until she was in the process of being benched and that's the problem.

Kim Possible is not a team show, Miraculous is, and yet Kim Possible has better team dynamics than Miraculous. Monique could have joined Kim's team at the end of Pain King vs. Cleopatra and it would have felt natural because both Kim and Ron had welcomed Monique and formed a genuine bond with her. This is a true friend group that Miraculous can only dream of even though they've been adding new superheroes since season two.

We're going into a season with a full, massive team and yet that team has no established dynamics on the hero side. It's not a functional team! None of these characters have meaningful relationships with each other as heroes save for Alya and Nino since they know each other’s secret identities. The only relationships Miraculous cares about are the various romances and everyone's relationship to Marinette and everyone suffers for it.

The show would not have been harmed by Rena Rouge, Chat Noir, and Ladybug being a team. It was the thing I kept think after watching the Kim Possible episode. Since the team is the end game, why aren't we seeing them? It would have been so nice to have Hack-San end with Ladybug introducing Chat Noir to Rena Furtive instead of a nonsense discussion about an issue the episode didn't even address.

[binniesbooks]

ahh hi my fayebae(idk is this cute?if its not I can think of another one)

anyways i thought real hard and long for this(while eating ice cream since its so hot here rn) but here's my idea!! gyu and reader are school rivals of a certain sport(u can choose the sport), let's just say boys and girls are both on the team!

they are pretty popular/well known (cos it looks like one wrong move and they would rip each other throat's out) but also cos they are both captains of their own school team!

but what others don't know, is that the whole tension and rivalry that they put on, is just an act. behind close doors well, one can say they are more than friends 🤭 seeing that after every game. they are both nowhere in sight.

(honestly dont mind switch between gyu and reader?? but u can choose who would take the lead n such idm!!) like it'll be hawt ughhh please ofc include smut!!(gyu eating out reader if possible I'm on my knees😳n anything else that is pleasurable for both of them heheh) everything else is up to u!!🤍

idk if this is any good cos this is like my 2nd ask of a fic to anyone T-T I rlly hope this inspires u <3

• LOCKED AND LOADED

BG 001 .F23 2024

wc 3.8k

pairing rival(?)!beomgyu x fem!reader

warning cursing, unprotected sex, oral sex, cum playing, dangerous activity(gun holding) (tell me if I missed anything)

faye's note dedicated to my one and only dearest Beomgyu's kitten, @babymochibeargyu here you goooo! I'm sorry for the delay, I feel bad omg. But here's a little TMI, I rewatched one of TODO episodes for this kkkkk! Plus I did my own research tooooo! But, okay, I know there's no Olympics likes this but just imagine. Omg. Kkkkk bye!

Btw, I feel like I'm being surrounded with bamtoris 😋 ❤️

2024 Campus Olympics

"And...they're out!" The crowd roared from cheers and disappointment coming from the bleachers as the big screen showed the "GAME OVER" sign.

"We have our semi-finalist! Ladies and gentlemen! ELITE EAGLES!" The crowd roared once again at the announcer's statement. You heard the deafening sound as you and your teammates stepped out from the range. The air was thick with competition and excitement.

This sport has been ongoing for years now. The sport that requires skill, accuracy, precision, and speed, is a shooting game. However, the guns used in this competition are nerfed, to lessen the power and accidents that may happen. You and Beomgyu's school had been the biggest rivals in this sport. Making it the spotlight and main event of the Camp Olympics.

"Now! Who will be our champion of the year?! Will it be the ELITE EAGLES?" the crowd cheered again, "Or our defending champions, the ALPHAS!" The crowd grew louder, you glanced at the other side of the entrance of the range. And there he was, standing all proud with a smirk plastered on his face, it was no other than your only rival, Beomgyu.

You clutched at the nerfed gun you were holding as your teammate were fixing their protective vests and head gears.

"This will be the game of the century for both of these teams! For the past 2 years, they have scored 1-1 so far, who will conquer this time?" The commentator announced. You could practically feel the stretch of the veins in their neck with the way they shouted.

It's been two years since you joined this sport, you were still a sophomore at that time. And this time, it was your last and final year to play, craving for the victor's crown. Beomgyu had been your rival from the start, making it his last and final year to play too.

Beomgyu turned his gaze towards yours, grinning at how you were practically boring holes in his head. As you line up in front facing each other's team, the fiery stare and sharp remarks on the field had all the students buzzing, and it seemed like a single misstep would ignite a full-blown feud.

"Go Eagles, we soar, we flight! United and bold, in the heart of fight!"

"Who's got the power, the strength, the drive? We are the Alphas, we thrive, we thrive!"

The cheer squad from both teams were doing their best to boost their player's determination. Showing off their respected school representative animals from banners to mascots, cheers to flaglets. The rivalry, driven by pride and competition, garners attention from everyone as both teams relish in the spotlight. The tension is palpable, with the upcoming round heightened by mutual taunts and challenging glances, fueling their status as competitors.

"Players! Lock and Load!" the rumbling sound of cheers and shouts envelops the field.

2022 Campus Olympics

"Y/n, you should definitely join, I swear it will be worth it." Yeonjun, your president of the photography club recommended joining the Lock and Load sports club. He used to be the team captain but since he and the members were about to graduate, he needed to keep the club alive. Persuading you to join and be the captain of the team.

"Jjun," his face crumpled at the name, "I really can't do that, prez. Look, I'm already in this photography club, I can't manage my time. " You sighed.

"Says the one who can stay up all night to watch her favorite movies but can't even accept her president's slash friend's request." He yapped and yawned.

"Fine!" You stomped your feet, "If you were not just my president and one of my dearest friends, I wouldn't have considered your request at all!" You crossed your arms, pouting as you hear his light laughs envelope the room

"We have a new champion! Ladies and gentlemen! Elite Eagles!" Your crowd cheered on you. This annual event is a big event for your schools. And you felt the proud look from the participants of your school. Being the champion in this sport was a normal occurrence especially when Yeonjun was still the captain. So as you turned to him, his smile was the brightest you had ever seen.

As you turn to the other side, you see your opponent's team. You can't see any disappointment in their eyes, but their aura practically screams revenge. Their team captain caught your eye. He's tall and looked like he had a pleasing personality the way he was talking to his teammates. Well, that's what you can see.

As your two teams gathered up in front for a handshake to show sportsmanship, you hesitated at the way he was smiling at you. You raised your hand to shake his, but you feel strange.

"Congratulations." The word rolled out of his mouth so smooth and sweet yet full of threat. Your skin crawled at how cold his palm was. You immediately pulled back your hand as you felt an electric sensation radiating off of him through you. A palpable tension between you ignited when both of your eyes met, frowning faces as if about to kill each other. -- That's when everybody knew, you would be the biggest rivals of this sport.

"I told you, you can do it!" Yeonjun said as he ruffled your hair while walking with your team. "All of you, you did well too, I knew you could do it." Greeting the group made them cheer and thank Yeonjun, for the support he gave and the persuasion he did.

"Are you coming?" One of your teammates shouted outside asking you if you would go with them to celebrate, but you're still not finished taking a bath to remove the sweaty scent that makes you feel icky. "I will! But go ahead, I'll catch up later." You confirmed. You heard the door closed. It was really good to have such a facility that caters for your annual school events. The big field could accommodate all of the participating schools for the event, and the participants' team themselves had their own rooms to stay in. You were more than happy, you got to experience using these athlete's rooms plus you even won the championship of Lock and Load.

You were about to leave when you stopped in your tracks as you saw someone standing leaning on the wall in the hallway. He's wearing your opponent's uniform.

"Hey there. Come with me for a while."

2023 Campus Olympics

"They're three points left behind with 2 minutes remaining! Will Alphas catch up or will they be the ones to win the championship?" The roaring crowd ignites the desperation of both teams to win.

With a ten-point difference, Alphas won the game. The victory wasn't supposed to be theirs but their captain changed plans last minute. The prideful face of Beomgyu shined bright as he walked out of the range. His grin grew wider when you were in his sight. You couldn't help but roll your eyes and turn your back to him. This rivalry between the two schools will get bigger, given the fact that you two will be playing your last games next year. The score tied at 1-1, the next annual event will be the tiebreaker.

"It's fine really. We do lose too, even before." Despite being a graduate student, Yeonjun still gives his full support to the Elite Eagles' Lock and Load team, patronizing them, especially at this event, he is also the acting coach of the team as of now. Besides, he was the reason why your school has its own team for the Lock and Load sport. He tried to cheer you up, tapping every slumped shoulder of every player.

You forced a smile at him, trying your best not to look too bad. "I have an idea. I'll buy tonight's dinner for you guys. I can't look at your droopy faces." He volunteered, gathering some "Coach, you don't have to" and "Hyung, you don't have to" as answers. "No, I insist."

When your fellow players got up to head to the accommodation room, you stayed behind at one of the benches for players near the range. Yeonjun sat beside you. "Don't be so disheartened. You know, there's still one more year for you. I know you'll make it." He ruffled your hair, giving you a bottle of energy drink.

"Replenish your energy. Then come over to the team dinner." Maybe Yeonjun felt that your silence had screamed that you wanted to be alone for a while. He put his hand in his pocket as he walked away.

"Come out. I know you're there." The same person from the opponent's team, leaning on the post not too far from where you are sitting, is hidden away from eyes that can see both of you.

Present

Your team ran through the course, earning points at each shot. For the past years, you have Beomgyu as an opponent, you could say that you can read his plans and movements. Allowing you to move and think faster than him. His teammates were quick, but you and your teammates trained yourself to be wary and not let your guard down.

"This is an interesting and intense game of the century!" You almost scoffed at the figures of speech the announcers had been using in their comments.

"Shit, that was a close call!" You muttered as you hid yourself on a stack of sacks, you were almost hit by his teammate. "Attention eagles! I can see their position from here. E7, proceed under the truck, someone's behind the wall. E5, someone just ran near your position. E6, remain seated, they might see you. Others, stick to the plan, be careful!" You quietly talked to your teammates as you distributed their tasks.

All 8 members of each team can earn points as much as they can, each shot is equivalent to a certain point depending on what part of the body the bullet hits. The suit and protective vests that the player wore had built-in sensors, that whenever an opponent’s bullets hits it, it would automatically count as a point.

It's almost the end of the round, and with 9 minutes remaining, the score was 88-67 with your team at the lower end. You're frustrated-- Beomgyu irks you so much. With 8 minutes remaining, you kept on shooting at any opponent that came your way. You did not camp anymore. Moving from one place to another. 7 minutes remaining, the crowd became louder. Your mind is blurry to think of a strategy. 6 minutes remaining, your teammates are trying to reach you but to no avail. 5 minutes remaining, you don't have much time left, you can't just remain still. 4 minutes remained, and you dashed to the opponent's base aiming for their captain, receiving a few glancing blows in the process. 3 minutes remaining, you covered yourself near the metal wall. 2 minutes remaining, the score ascended to 112-103, but still, your team was at the lower end.

The firing from others has ceased, probably killing the 2 minutes remaining to save energy and steady the scores. You roamed your eyes through the opponent's base. No captain in sight. "Shit, am I too late?" You muttered, slowly walking to search for him. You were about to step out of their base when you heard someone.

"Hands behind your head." The voice commanded. Fucking hell, you're doomed.

....

Both teams step out of the range with loud cheers from the crowd.

"We almost did it. We were so close."

"Man, that was close."

"This is my last year already."

Clear disappointment, was what you heard.

"Ladies and gentlemen! The game of the century has now officially ended! Our champion! No other than..." Your ears practically ring with the announcer's shouting voice.

"ELITE EAGLES!" Your team cheered as much as the crowd did, jumping and shouting their lungs out.

You turn to Beomgyu, one of his hands in his pocket, and the other still holding the gun. He smiled at you, mouthing a 'congratulations'. You nodded before you were called to line up and shake each other's hands.

"The annual Campus Olympics has officially ended. This is your official commentator of the year's event, Kim Jun-soo, signing off."

"Woah! How did you do it, captain? I thought we were going to lose!" Your teammates were overjoyed, but still not over the fact that you won.

"See? I told you, you can do it. And look you actually did!" Yeonjun placed his cap on your head. "Nice job, team captain."

"I..thank you." You were out of words -- no, you were out of this world actually.

"Hey, dinner is on--"

"Coach, the organizers gave me a stub. Dinners are on them for both teams." Yeonjun was cut off by one of your teammates.

Hearing the free dinner, Yeonjun cheered with your teammates. Free dinner = not a single cent to be spent.

"See you later then, rest for now, we still have plenty of time," Yeonjun announced.

...

"Hey move over, the seat is empty." Bickering can be heard from the next table in the restaurant reserved for the players. Yeonjun sighs, for three consecutive years, you haven't attended the team dinner. You are, again, not in sight.

"By any chance, have you seen Captain?"

"Oh yeah, Beomgyu is not here again. I wonder why the seat's empty."

"How many years has it been? 2?"

"Three years. He did not attend any single team dinner at all."

"Forget it, eat to your heart's content. He might not just wanna attend."

Yeonjun's head snapped at what he had just heard. Alphas and Elite Eagles have been rivals for so long. You and the other team's captain have been rivals for three years. And neither of you has attended team dinners for three consecutive years too. Was something going on? Or was he just overthinking it?

"Gyu... Beomgyu..." You whined.

"Shhh, stay still." He whispered.

"Ahh... Beomgyu..." his name rolling off your tongue so sweet it makes him feel tingly.

Your grip on his hair tightens a little bit, "More... I want more..." Your words are shaky and needy.

Beomgyu held your thighs to keep them steady, lapping at your sweet wetness. "Why are you so needy right now?" He asked sucking at your clit. Your back arched at his action. "I...I want more, please... I want you." He pulled back a little bit, just a few inches away from your dripping cunt. His hot puffs of breath make you shiver and whine for me. "N-no teasing..." Your legs felt weak. Shaking. Trembling. "But I love you being so needy, captain. I like seeing you squirm under me." Your hand clasped your mouth, refraining from moaning, the term captain gives butterflies to your stomach.

"Captain, just so you know, I love how you moan my name, I love how you make that face when you cum. I love it when you whine and whimper." His eyes are fixed on you while he's kissing your inner thighs. He watches the rising and falling motion of your exposed chest.

"Now, say my name again, will you?" He uttered, getting ready to dive in you again.

His hot and slippery tongue licked a stripe on your cunt, making your back arch once again as you gripped tightly on his sheets. "Beomgyu... Cap..captain Gyu.." you yelped, "I'm gonna cum.. please.." he likes this so much. He likes it when you beg for him to take care of you.

"Let it out, captain." He smirked as he continued tongue fucking you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, you quivered as you reached your high. Beomgyu's bed was a total mess, from your thrashing, from your sweat, from your squirming.

"This never changed, you always taste good, captain. Ever since we were young." He grasped your waist to pull you closer, sucking your remaining cum from the intense orgasm he gave you. He sat down on the edge of the bed, just to rest for a while, but he did not expect what you were about to do.

You crawled down on him, between his legs. You look up at him as you lay your cheek on one of his thighs. He smirked at your quirks. He grabbed a gun from his table drawer. Pointing it on your temple. Your eyes flutter at him as he smiles sweetly at you. "Do it for me, yeah,?" He motions at his belt. Beomgyu owns a licensed gun, it was your gift when you two just turned 18. Probably the reason why he joined lock and load.

You carefully unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants agonizingly slow. The cold muzzle kissing your sweaty temple. You were still staring at him, he was biting his lips, abs clenching at the sight. You pumped him a few times causing him to groan at your work.

"Careful, Captain. Fuck." One hand still holding the gun pointed at you, another gripping at the sheets.

You spit on his cock, a makeshift lube, as you bobbed your head carefully. His breath was shaky and hot. Lips were now red at how he occasionally bit them from the sensation.

Your tongue prodded at his tip, trying to lick his slit.

"Ahh, fucking shit, y/n.." His hips were thrusting up to your mouth.

"Do it again. Fuck, do that again." He commanded when you stop licking his slit. One more move and he will fall from the bed.

You took him whole --that's when he lost it, he holds your head with both of his hands, still clutching onto the gun.

He was fucking your throat, your gag reflex kicking in, "Shit, god damn it y/n, I'm sorry!" Despite the apology, his movement did not stop one bit, if anything, he even moved a bit rougher.

"C-can I cum in your m-mouth?" His words fumbling, the muscles of his legs tensing. "P-please tell me if I can. I-i'm... Shit. Ahh! I'm close.." he stammered.

You hummed, causing him to lose himself at the resonance. His cock throbbed inside your mouth as white spurts of cum painted your mouth.

He quickly tossed the gun on his bed as he pulled you up to straddle him. One hand resting on your hand, the other on your chin. "Open your mouth." You opened your mouth, very carefully, not wanting to spill his milk. He pressed his thumb on your tongue, playing with his cum, as he let it spill out, trailing down to his hand.

"You always make me horny." He licked his thumb before pulling you to a fervent kiss. You started grinding on him as he kissed you with so much longing. He easily slipped inside of you with your slick still dripping on your thighs, causing you to gasp allowing him to fuck your throat with his tongue. You started to roll your hips in a circular motion causing him to curse. "Are we doing it raw again, captain?" You asked, but he dodged your answer with another question.

"Captain, I-I just came. How could you?" He wrapped his arms around your waist. You stilled before pulling away, "The stunt you pulled is dangerous," you pouted, "What if you suddenly killed me? I bought that for you as a souvenir when I went to the States. I did not expect it to be used against me." You crossed your arms. He planted a sweet kiss on your lips, "Rule number 2, firearms should be unloaded when not actually in use," he shrugged, "The magazine ain't intact." He added.

Your mouth gaped, you were dumbfounded, all this time your heart had been racing thinking about the danger that might actually happen. But in fact, it was actually unloaded.

"Damn you! I was scared to death! I thought --"

"You thought? You thought what?" He cuts you off when he starts thrusting, stretching you out. You hid your face in the crook of his neck.

"Wow, that's cheating, making an excuse to moan on my ears." His moves were unchanging, deeply thrusting in your sloppy cunt.

You can't help yourself but moan, not when he's gripping your waist to push his girthy cock deeper on you.

"Captain... Captain, you're hitting the right s-spots..." You moaned as you stayed glued to his sweaty body.

"I-i'll pull out. I'll pull out c-captain." His words stuttered as his moves also stuttered.

"Don't, please Gyu. I want you to cum inside, I'm on the pill." You buried your face more in his neck, embarrassed hearing yourself begging him to cum in you.

"How can I say no when you're c-clenching on my c-cock. Shit, I'm close." He huffed. You clenched more, you want him so much. You're desperate to feel his warm cum filling you up.

"C-captain, c-can I rub my..." You're too shy to finish your sentence, but he pulled the words out of your mouth when he started moving his fingers on your clit in a circular motion."Captain! Captain, fuck! Oh god!" You were both ecstatic rushing to chase your highs.

He restrained your hands behind your back as he started moving harder, abusing your stretched cunt. You moved closer to him, to his ears, moaning at it purposely, pushing him to the edge as he spilled inside you.

He continued fucking you and rubbing your clit despite the fact he had reached his own orgasm, overstimulating himself. "Fuck it fucking h-hurts! Fucking hell!" You can't hear any words from him other than his resounding curses until you are squirting on him. He was chasing his breath as he laid his forehead on your shoulder.

"I love this so much... I love you... You're so hot squirting on my cock.. sexy." He muttered. You pulled him into a hug, slight movements causing the both of you to wince. I love you too, Captain.." You whispered.

All you can hear in the room is the ticking of the clock, the thumping of your chest, and the heavy pants and breaths coming from both of you.

"Why did you do it, Gyu?" You look at him, eyes searching for answers. He just smiled.

"Hands behind your head." It was Beomgyu. You're doomed.

"Hello there, Miss Captain." He clicks his tongue as he stares at you. "You really wanted to win, yeah?" He added.

"Ah-ah! Do not move! Give me your gun." He commanded making you flinch, you glanced at the timer on his suit, less than one minute remaining. You handed him your gun and placed your hands behind your head again.

"Do me a favor." You looked at him confused, "What favor?" 30 seconds remaining.

"Call me captain." Short, yet precise words.

"What?" Your eyebrows furrowed.

"I said, call me captain." 20 seconds.

"Look, I don't know what-"

"Call. Me. Captain. Right now." His voice was full of authority. 10 seconds remaining.

9

8

7

6

5

4

3... "Captain!"

2

1... "Bang!" You flinched at what you've heard, he pulled the trigger! Beomgyu fucking pulled the trigger.

But it wasn't his gun, it was yours, and the muzzle was pressed on his headgear.

10 points were added to your score, a headshot is equivalent to 10 points. The score ascends to 102-113.

@binniesbooks 2024

[shardsofmarxx]

Lost | Spencer Reid x GN! Reader

Criminal Minds Songfic based on/inspired by the song Lost by Dennis Van Aarssen. (This is a cover of the song "Lost" by Michael Bublé)

Summary: After a long case, Spencer decides to surprise you with a visit to your apartment. Once he arrives, he realizes that you've been struggling, and he does his best to comfort you.

Warnings: Talk of medication, and bipolar II. Reader is clearly going through a depressive episode.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: So sorry for the delay in getting a new fic out!! Between my busy college schedule, my mental health, and writers block, it took me wayyy too long to come up with a solid idea for a fic. I was randomly listening to this song one day and was suddenly hit with the inspiration for this, so I ran with it! I really hope you guys enjoy this one :)

Spencer rushed to his car, excited to see you after dealing with a long case in Florida for the past two weeks. He didn't tell you that the team finished the case because you two just hadn't talked much today. Now that he was thinking about it, he realized you two hadn't talked much at all these past two weeks, aside from casual good morning and goodnight messages. Regardless, he was sure you'd be happy to see him.

Spencer drove out of the parking garage, whistling some tunes and tapping his fingers as he winded down the road to your apartment. He got there relatively quickly, seeing as you only lived a 5 minute drive away from the BAU. He parked his car, got out, and eagerly headed up the stairs to your apartment.

Once he got to the door, he fished out the spare key you had given him when you two first started dating and unlocked the door, opening it very slowly so as not to startle you awake. He walked in, quietly taking his shoes off and placing his messenger bag by the door. He carefully walked through the hall and saw light coming from the living room, accompanied by the low sound of the TV. He stood in the doorway and found you asleep on the couch, watching Friends reruns. As he walked towards the couch, he noticed miscellaneous wrappers and bottles strewn around the floor. He furrowed his brows and diverted his path over to the kitchen, only to find the sink full of dishes and the trash slightly overflowing, along with takeout containers spread across the counter. He walked back into the living room and over to the couch, kneeling on the floor beside you. He looked over at you and moved some stray hair strands out of your face, being careful not to wake you. He saw your eyes were puffy and your cheeks were still a bit wet, which he deduced was from crying.

Spencer’s profiler brain quickly began putting everything together. He knew you had been struggling with bipolar II for a while, but things had been getting better. He made sure that you were seeing the best people in the field for your treatment. Your therapy sessions, along with the current medication you were on, seemed to be working fine, so he didn’t understand why this was happening. There was no way you would have hidden your symptoms that well from him; after all, he was a profiler. He sat there, racking his brain, trying to figure out what could’ve gone wrong.

Suddenly, it hit him.

Spencer quickly, but quietly, got up and walked to the bedroom. As he walked in, he turned on the lights and went straight to the nightstand on the right side of your bed. He quietly looked through the cabinets until he finally found your medication. He picked up the bottle and saw it was much fuller than it should be, confirming his suspicion.

You hadn’t been taking your medication since he left.

Spencer knew this feeling all too well from all the times his mother would refuse her medication. He felt a wave of guilt rush through him as he sighed and returned the bottle to the nightstand. He slowly trudged back to the couch and sat on the floor so that he was right by your face, completely enthralled by your beauty as you slept soundly.

As Spencer stared at you, his mind began to wander. He felt guilty for not realizing the implications of your distance from him over the past two weeks. Although he loved his job, he hated how busy it could get and how it could cause him to neglect the things he cared most about, like you. Most importantly, he felt guilty that he couldn't be there for you. He did his best to push all these thoughts out just as quickly as they came, telling himself that he should just focus on the present. He was here now, and he was going to do anything and everything he could for you. He sat by your side, gently caressing you until you finally awoke, stirring for a few moments until your eyes fluttered open.

“Spencer?” You croaked, your voice slightly raspy from sleep, “What are you doing here?”

“We landed a while ago, and I figured I’d come surprise you,” he replied softly, accompanied by a warm smile.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes for a few moments in an effort to wake yourself up. As you looked around, you realized the mess that was your apartment, and memories of how you'd been spending the past two weeks began to flood your brain. As this was happening, you came to the realization that Spencer has seen all this too, which means he’s definitely figured out that you’re off your meds. You immediately stand up, and Spencer does the same, a look of concern forming on his face as you lead him to the door.

"Well, Spence, this was a lovely surprise, but I have a busy day ahead of me. You really should get going,” I said, handing him his messenger bag. As you reached to open the door, he grabbed your wrist, his warm touch causing you to turn back around.

“Unfortunately for you, I can't be fooled that easily.” His voice trailed. “I'm not leaving you, darling.”

He grabbed the messenger bag from my hand and kneeled down to place it back by the door. He stood back up and placed his hands in yours, giving you a soft look with his warm, hazel eyes.

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. All you could do was stare at the floor and mumble. “Nothing's going on, Spencer, really.”

“I doubt you would go off of your medication for nothing,” he replied matter-of-factly, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Listen, I understand that dealing with this kind of stuff is hard, really hard, but you can't keep me in the dark forever. I'm your boyfriend, and I'm always going to be by your side, no matter how hard things get. We're a team, remember?” He paused for a moment and cupped my face, making sure you were looking him in the eyes for his next sentence. "You're not alone, honey. I promise.”

As his words echoed in the room, you felt tears form in your eyes. It had been so long since you had heard those words— so long since you had someone express such genuine care and concern. You were so used to the shame, disgust, and scolding from others in moments like these, yet he displayed none of that. It wasn't long before sobs began to creep out of your mouth, and you stuffed your face into Spencer’s chest. He just held you tightly in response, rubbing his open palm on my backside and whispering words of love and care in your ear as you wept.

Eventually, you lifted my face and met his eyes once more. He gave you a small smile as he gently wiped the tears off your cheek.

“I say we go over to the bedroom and talk; does that sound good?” He asked softly.

“I think that's a good idea,” you answered.

He held your hand tightly as he led you to the bedroom. When he entered, he lay down on the bed first, motioning with his hand to the empty space beside him. You laid down, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in and completely enveloping you in his warmth. You both laid there silently for a few minutes, basking in each other's company. You lost yourself in the sound of his gentle heartbeat for a bit before you remembered what you two were here to do. You took a small breath, lifted your head from his chest, and began to speak.

“I didn't like the way I felt when I was on my medication; nothing felt right once I started taking it. I felt like I was a robot or something.” you began. “One morning I woke up and had enough, so I stopped taking them, and I felt great; I felt alive... Well, at least I did for a bit. After a day or two, it felt like reality just came crashing down and-” You paused, feeling a sob creep up your throat once more. "Suddenly, any trace of happiness was gone, and I crashed. I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed, leave the house, or talk to anyone, especially you. I just felt empty.” You stopped for a couple more moments, glancing over at Spencer, before speaking again. “I was lost and didn’t know what to do, Spence, I’m so sorry…” You finished, your voice trailing.

Spencer never stopped comforting you as you spoke, raking his fingers through your hair and kissing your forehead. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for him to speak up once you had finished.

“Unfortunately, that happens a lot to people when they're on medication. I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there for you, honey,” he said, holding you tightly. “We can make an appointment with your psychiatrist to discuss changing your medication as well as looking for other treatments that might benefit you.” Spencer began rambling about various treatments for bipolar II that he had recently read about. Once he got word of your diagnosis, he poured countless hours of research into learning everything there was to know about it. He wanted to make sure that you received the best treatment possible, and, most importantly, he wanted to make you feel as understood as he could. After all, he knew all too well what it was like to not be understood by anyone around you.

He began rambling about things he had found in his most recent research on bipolar II, and you felt your heart swell with joy. Even though all you could really do was nod your head every once in a while and let out a few “mhms'' and “hmms” to assure him that you were listening, mainly because you didn't understand what he was talking about half of the time, you appreciated this more than he would ever know. After all, it was his way of making you feel loved and understood. Eventually, Spencer ran out of things to say and stopped talking. He turned his head down to look at yours, moving some stray strands of hair out of your face before he spoke once more.

“Y’know, because this case took so long, we got a 3-day weekend from Hotch,” he said softly. “I could help you clean up the apartment and keep you company these next few days, if you’d like.”

You met his gaze and smiled warmly at him. “I would love that, darling.”

Spencer smiled back at you and jumped up from the bed. You were barely able to get a word out before he bent over and picked you up, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding you securely against his chest.

“Spence, what’s gotten into you?!” you said, trying to stifle a giggle.

“C’mon, let’s go get breakfast,” he said, wearing a wide grin on his face as he carried you out of the bedroom.

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any ideas for fics you want me to write in the future, feel free to send them in my ask box!

[ithaca-awaits]

"#love every time we made dave a question and he went all fanficcy #this one and the post-survival one" hello i have a BURNING need to know..... which post-survival question did he answer?

Hi! Sorry for the month-long delay in answering this! I don’t usually get asks on this account so I kept forgetting and say I’d answer as soon as I got to check Dave’s Q&As again, which I kept not being able to check. Anywho, the question I was referring to here was made by Liv on the Q&A session that took place on the 25th of June. You can find the complete recording and transcripts here (along with other fantastic fan-curated resources if you’re new to the fandom.)

Q: If the expedition had been rescued around, say, episode 8/9, and made it home, how do you think the various relationships that developed on screen would have fared back in ““civilization””? Would the intimacies some of these men formed between them persist? I’m also curious to know if you think any of them would resign from the Navy, be it for whatever reason: ethical, practical, physical, to explore other parts of themselves, etc.

I’m gonna try to be as brief as possible because Dave gave a very long response (find the non-abridged version in the link provided above), but this was the meat of it:

Crozier and Blanky would talk endlessly about quitting the Navy but only Crozier would. This doesn’t mean that Blanky would do this comfortably, as he’d already have survived two naval expeditions that turned out badly, so maybe he’d join a whaling ship, even if that would also have gotten under his skin.

He doesn’t think any of the surviving Lieutenants would have come back anywhere close to the poles, but he does think that most of them would have succumbed to the calling of fame and glory, i.e. wanting to return to the sea now that they had been named Commanders or Captains of their own vessels.

He’s not sure if Fitzjames would have been brave enough to stay aside of the Navy, even if during those three months he learnt a lot more about himself that what keeping the same persona for thirty years had brought him. He thinks Fitzjames would have written a “hell of a memoir” as well as a “hell of a military career, and that he would have stayed friends with Crozier, even if some of the things that happened in the Arctic would never have been mentioned again.

Goodsir would return to visit Silna “as often as possible.” Not for romantic reasons, but because there’d have been “a friendship there”. (also, taking into account he is making up all these scenarios after 8 or 9 the tuunbaq would have lived.)

“I think Bridgens and Peglar [smiles] would have worked like dogs to be able to afford some goddamn privacy where they could be together for the rest of their lives. [laughs]”

Pilkington and Des Voeux would have stayed friends.

“Little and Hodgson would be in one another’s lives.” They’d help each other patch themselves up after what happened because they’d both be in denial about everything that went down, helping create “a more palatable story about themselves”.

Sophia would feel like she’d have to choose between Lady Jane and Crozier and would chose the former, especially after the loss of her uncle.

Jopson would have stayed close to Crozier, they’d stay best friends for the rest of their lives.

Golding would commit suicide at some point, he was not equipped to deal with everything that happened and much less to go on living carrying it with him.

David Young’s ring would have been delivered to his sister. (with one of the crystal diamonds having fallen off during the journey.)

Mr Diggle would have been fine and stayed friend with some of the AB’s and midshipmen, but not with anyone else further up the hierarchy.

Collins would have lived a very quiet life, as most of what troubled him was PTSD.

Hartnell would have had a family and lived a quiet life. He’d have stayed close to Manson and from time to time he might have met with Crozier.

Hickey would have ended up in prison if he managed not to ger executed. If Tozer and him had ended up in the same prison they would have avoided each other for years, until they realized they were the one’s more suited for each other’s rest and protection. It’s tricky for Dave to say if they’d have become lovers because he is unsure about Tozer, but it’s prison so HE’LL LET US DECIDE. [ten seconds later he changed his mind] Tozer would have turned to Hickey for that kind of comfort and ended up murdering him, while Hickey convinced himself that he was the one letting himself be murdered. (This is already a very long ask, if you want more details on Hickey’s Vermont sex-cult, ping me and I’ll expand on it, because it was an answer from a different day and I don’t currently have it at hand.)

Gibson wouldn’t have wanted nothing to do with anyone. He might have found some new expedition or a house where he could work in as a domestic servant, but he wouldn’t have told anyone.

Hope this helped!

[baccarry]

The Scarlet Ribbon

Summary: Boromir, heir of Gondor, journeys to a small village on the borders of Rohan, where the winter silence hides a warmth he hasn't felt in a long time. What draws him to this snowy corner? A humble goods shop, or a girl with a scarlet ribbon in her hands, who becomes something far greater to him? The mysteries of the Yule festival, the game of "snow shadows," and moments that change destinies—all await in this tale of seeking a bond stronger than duty and the winter's chill. Fandom: The Lord of the Rings Pairing: Boromir x Reader Rating: G Note: While writing this text, I fully embraced the Christmas vibe, and the story seemed to come together on its own. Let it become a cozy episode for a winter evening. Yes, I know I’m a little late for Catholic Christmas, but better late than never, right? Sorry, but English is not my native language, so if you notice any mistakes, please correct them. I would also appreciate beta reading services. 4152 Words.

***

Boromir was heading north, toward the border of Rohan and Gondor. Officially, his journey was motivated by the need to inspect the condition of the border posts and ensure that caravans passing through these lands encountered no delays. Yet, for months now, he had been finding new excuses to return to this small village nestled among the hills.

The road was winding and coated in slushy snow, marked only by the rare passage of carts and horses’ hooves. The further north he traveled, the colder the air became, biting at his face and hands. A light frost clung to his chainmail and traveling cloak, but he paid it no mind. His thoughts were occupied elsewhere—on the village where Torken's shop stood.

This shop seemed ordinary enough, like many others in Gondor or Rohan: shelves stocked with fabrics, furs, dried herbs, and other goods. Yet, for him, it had become something more. It wasn’t the wares that had imprinted on his memory but the person behind the counter. Over the past months, he had devised countless reasons to visit again and again: to inspect the quality of fabrics for the garrison or to purchase rare furs, supposedly needed in Gondor. And, of course, to see you.

Each time he entered the shop, he found himself freezing momentarily when his gaze met yours. Your smile, bright and simple as it was, filled him with a warmth he seldom felt during his arduous campaigns. If your father happened to be away and you were the one assisting customers, Boromir always found a reason to linger just a little longer, watching the deftness of your hands, and perhaps, accidentally brushing against your fingers as you handed him a pouch tied with a silver cord.

Now, as he approached the village, he felt a familiar mix of anticipation and joy. The closer he drew, the more pronounced was the sense that this snow-covered corner of Rohan held something special for him. Here, there were no marble arches or broad streets like in Minas Tirith, but there was something more genuine: a simplicity and comfort he hadn’t known in a long time.

The village appeared as a tiny oasis amid the white hills. Wooden houses with thatched roofs were lightly dusted with snow. The streets were quiet, with only a few figures moving between the buildings, cloaked against the chill. Thin tendrils of smoke curled up from chimneys, carrying the scent of burning wood, and faint glimmers of light shone from some of the windows.

Torken's shop stood at the corner of the central square, as unassuming as ever. Its entrance was shielded by a rough fabric to block the wind, and wooden crates filled with straw and furs surrounded the doorway. Everything here was simple, yet somehow this simplicity drew him more powerfully than the grandeur of Gondor.

He pulled on the reins, halting his horse. For a few moments, he simply sat there, letting the cold sting his face. His gaze swept slowly over the village. Everything looked different from Gondor. The houses were modest but inviting, their thatched roofs now blanketed with soft snow. Though the streets were deserted, they felt lived-in: faint boot prints marked some doorsteps, left just moments ago. On one window hung a small wooden sun-shaped amulet adorned with snowy rowan branches. Outside another house, overturned barrels were draped with fur coverings, as if someone had recently set them out to air.

His attention was drawn to the evergreen wreaths adorning several doors. Some were simple, made of branches and pinecones, while others were more elaborate, with ribbons or berries. It was a detail unfamiliar to his eyes: in Minas Tirith, ordinary homes were rarely decorated, save for special occasions. Yet here, it seemed natural, a part of life imbued with warmth and care.

His gaze stopped on the shop. The door creaked slightly as it opened, and a figure slipped inside. Boromir leaned forward, trying to discern who it was. Moments later, the figure reappeared: it was you, standing in the doorway with a wreath in your hands. The wreath was neatly woven from fir branches and adorned with small pinecones, though it looked rather austere.

He watched as you lifted something, realizing it was a ribbon. Bright red, vivid like a drop of blood on the snow. You began to skillfully weave it into the wreath. Your movements were quick yet precise. Knot by knot, you wrapped the branches, unfazed by the sharp needles occasionally catching on your fingers. Your concentration was so complete that it seemed the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

You murmured something under your breath as you adjusted the ribbon, and Boromir noticed your glance briefly flicker toward the doorway. Perhaps you were thinking of your father’s recent remark: “The wreath is fine, but it’s too somber. A festival calls for brightness. Here, take this.” He had handed you the ribbon—a rarity in such a place, but surprisingly beautiful.

You worked with such focus that you hadn’t noticed him yet. And he, feeling that he was overstepping all bounds of propriety, continued to watch, unable to tear his eyes away.

The impropriety, of course, wasn’t in the act of observing you. It was in the fact that he, heir of Gondor, had once again found an excuse to be here. That he lingered too long on the sight of your hands, and that questions crept into his thoughts: “Who are you to me? Why do you command my attention every time I’m here?”

Boromir finally dismounted. He knew he shouldn’t. Perhaps even his mere presence at your door could be misconstrued. But something in your absorbed movements compelled him to draw nearer, so quietly that even the snow beneath his boots seemed complicit.

He stopped a few steps away, but you still hadn’t noticed him, so engrossed were you in your task. He thought he heard you softly humming to yourself, checking how the ribbon lay.

A sudden gust of wind rose, swirling snowflakes from the roof and spinning them around you, as if inviting you to dance. Your hair was slightly tousled, and you instinctively tucked a loose strand behind your ear, never breaking your focus on the wreath. In that moment, the sun broke through the heavy clouds, and the red ribbon in your hands blazed like living fire against the cold snow.

And then you saw him. Your fingers froze, still clutching the wreath, and your eyes widened in surprise. The red ribbon you had been weaving slipped from your fingers, swaying gently in the air as if hesitating.

“My lord,” you said softly, your voice trembling. Your hands, sticky with resin and covered in tiny scratches from the fir needles, trembled slightly before you quickly hid them behind your back. The wreath wobbled, a reminder of your task. You hadn’t expected to see him here, amidst the quiet and simplicity that seemed to shield you from the world. “You weren’t supposed to be here…”

For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the whisper of the wind through the trees.

“But I am,” he said quietly. His voice was low but warm, as if this moment had been long anticipated. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your hand, tentative, as if afraid to shatter the fragility of the moment. You felt the warmth he made no effort to conceal.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his question catching you off guard.

You looked at him, allowing a light, almost shy smile to touch your lips. Your eyes sparkled with gentle surprise but not embarrassment. You didn’t falter, though something inside you beat faster than usual.

“Decorating for the Winterwood Festival,” you answered calmly, lifting the wreath slightly as if to justify your activity.

Boromir’s eyebrows rose. He tilted his head slightly, as if scrutinizing either you or the wreath—or perhaps both.

“The Winterwood Festival?” he repeated, as though hearing the name for the first time. “We don’t have such a thing in Gondor. What is it?”

You squinted slightly, as if pondering whether he truly didn’t know or simply wanted to hear your explanation. His tone was sincere, and you decided to tell him.

“It’s an old tradition of ours. We welcome winter to honor it and remind ourselves that spring will always come. We decorate our homes with fir branches to protect them and add bright colors to show winter that she’s a welcome guest—but only for a time.” You nodded toward the red ribbon. “Red symbolizes life, warmth, and joy. Without it, everything else would be too bleak.”

Boromir thoughtfully ran his fingers along a fir branch, oblivious as a few needles fell onto the snow. His gaze was fixed on your hands still holding the wreath. He couldn’t understand why this simple ritual stirred such a strange mix of warm longing and curiosity within him. The ribbon in your hands seemed to be a connection between your world and something unattainable for him. He wanted to ask more, to hear just a few more words from your lips, but at that moment, your father’s voice rang out from the shop:

“Well, how much longer? How long does it take to weave a ribbon into a wreath?! Night’s coming, and we’ve got plenty to do!”

You flinched as if snapped out of a trance. Quickly tying off the end of the ribbon, you grabbed the wreath and tossed it over your shoulder.

“Come to the lake at midnight,” you said without meeting his gaze, then disappeared into the shop, leaving him alone.

The day in the village was lively. Festivities began as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Villagers spilled into the streets despite the snow and cold. The village came alive: children played in the snow, laughing loudly, while adults bustled around the fires, setting up large cauldrons with steaming drinks. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, smoke, and herbs.

By evening, large bonfires were lit in the central square. People gathered around to sing old songs, leap over flames, and dance in circles. Every villager seemed to find their place in the celebration: some danced, others stood aside, quietly chatting, but all were swept up in the festive spirit.

Closer to midnight, things became particularly intriguing. This hour marked a special ritual, where those seeking connection could gather by the lake, hidden from prying eyes by trees and a light mist. There were no large bonfires or bright lights here—only the faint glow of lanterns and the shimmer of stars on the dark water.

It was believed to be a time for hearts searching for bonds. Girls and boys gathered by the lake to leap over small fires together, join in dances, or simply talk in the semi-shadowy light. Anonymity was part of the ritual: faces were barely discernible in the flickering firelight, voices were hushed, and time seemed to stand still. This ritual allowed those who were shy or afraid to confess their feelings to be closer, even if only briefly.

When midnight arrived, Boromir made his way to the lake. The path leading there was narrow and covered in snow, but he knew he would find you waiting. Remembering your voice, he quickened his pace, feeling the cold air fill his lungs and his heart beat faster with anticipation.

As Boromir approached the lake, he saw the dark water reflecting the glittering stars. The faint glimmer of firelight from a bonfire on the shore illuminated the trees and the faces of those already gathered. He was cautious: the celebration, filled with laughter and merriment, felt like something unusual for his austere world. Yet, drawn by your invitation, he had come.

But you found him first.

Hiding among the trees, you watched as he approached the firelight, then deftly slipped behind him, stepping so silently that even his keen ears didn’t catch your steps. When he stopped, you moved closer and gently touched his shoulder.

“By Eru Almighty!” he started, spinning around and instinctively reaching for his belt, as if grasping for a weapon. “I could have harmed you by mistake!”

You laughed softly, lifting your head slightly so he could better see your face, hidden behind a mask. Like the other girls, your mask was made of thin bark and adorned with fir branches and snow patterns. It gave you an air of mystery, and even the faint firelight didn’t allow him to see you clearly.

“It’s not so easy to scare me, my lord,” you replied, raising a hand to stop him as he reached to remove the mask. “No. Tonight, you must earn it.”

You smiled and handed him a simple men’s mask made of dark cloth. Its decoration was minimal—a few embroidered threads and a sprig of fir, to distinguish it from the women’s masks.

“Do you see the bonfire?” You pointed to the fire at the very edge of the lake, where pairs were beginning to gather.

He nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly, though his gaze remained wary.

“That’s the center of the game. The girls hide among the trees at the edge,” you began to explain, slowly adjusting the ribbon on your waist. “Their goal is to escape and remain unseen for as long as possible.”

You paused to let him grasp the idea, then continued, watching his reaction:

“The boys, in turn, try to catch us—‘snow shadows.’ If you touch my ribbon—on my waist or wrist—I’ll be considered caught and must return to the bonfire with you.”

Boromir raised an eyebrow, thoughtfully running a hand over his mask.

“And then? Caught—then what?”

You smirked, tilting your head slightly.

“It’s not that simple. At the bonfire, you can try to guess the girl’s name or offer to exchange gifts. Usually, these are ribbons, nuts, or small carvings.” You paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “But if you guess correctly… you can ask for anything you want.”

“Anything they want?” he repeated, a light smile in his voice, which might have seemed mocking if not for the warm gleam in his eyes.

“Anything,” you confirmed with a subtle nod, but your gaze was steady. You knew what “anything” usually implied: a quick kiss in the shadows, a granted wish, or something that pairs already close to each other might allow themselves on such an evening. “You must be careful, my lord; all our girls are swift. Don’t be fooled by their delicacy.”

You laughed, stepped back, and with a graceful wave of your hand, disappeared among the trees, leaving him standing by the fire with the mask in his hands. The wind once again swirled snowflakes, and as he watched your retreating figure, he realized this game would be more than just an amusement.

“I don’t need ‘all,’ I need one,” he said softly, almost to himself, a faint, almost imperceptible warmth curling his lips into a smile. His fingers brushed the fabric of the mask before raising it to his face. The mask fit perfectly, concealing his features and leaving only his eyes visible—attentive and now slightly cunning.

Boromir joined the group of young men standing across the fire from the girls. They laughed loudly, tossing quick remarks to each other and shifting impatiently. Some adjusted their masks, fiddled with ribbons tied to their wrists or belts, or nudged each other playfully. Boromir stood quietly among them, remaining in the shadows, and scanned their partially hidden faces.

His gaze swept across the fire and found you. You stood slightly apart, rocking lightly on your toes as if preparing to dash away. You wore a simple but warm dress of deep green, belted with a thin leather strap to which a crimson ribbon was tied. Over your shoulders was a fur cloak for protection against the cold. Your mask, adorned with snow patterns and fir branches, concealed half your face, but he would recognize you among a thousand.

You looked directly at him, and a soft, teasing smile played on your lips. That gaze was a challenge—it seemed to say he would have to earn every second spent near you. Boromir smirked to himself, feeling a spark of excitement ignite within him.

The bonfire flared brighter, as if heralding the start of the game. One of the young men shouted a signal, and the girls simultaneously darted away like a flock of birds taking flight. You were no exception, slipping gracefully into the depths of the forest. The young men followed, their loud footsteps and laughter echoing through the clearing.

Boromir didn’t rush. He waited, watching as the crowd dispersed among the trees, keeping his eyes fixed on you. You moved confidently, your crimson ribbon flashing briefly among the shadows of the trees before vanishing from view.

He followed, stepping carefully to avoid revealing himself too soon. The forest was dark, but occasional glimmers of light from the bonfire or the moon illuminated the path. The air smelled of pine and frost, and around him, he could hear footsteps, laughter, and whispers. In the distance, he noticed one of the young men catching a girl and pulling the ribbon from her wrist before the two headed back toward the fire.

But not everyone was in a hurry. Venturing deeper into the forest, Boromir suddenly spotted two figures near a tree. In the faint light, he discerned a young man and a woman. She was leaning against the trunk, and he was bent over her, cradling her face in his hands. Their lips were pressed together hungrily and passionately, as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. It was a sight he rarely witnessed in Gondor, where strict morals dictated restraint and decorum. There, emotions were concealed behind polite glances and cautious gestures. But here, in the forest, this couple kissed as if every moment could be their last.

Boromir paused momentarily, turning away to grant them their privacy. Something in that scene stirred a strange feeling within him: a mix of envy and wonder. Perhaps this festival allowed people to shed the masks they wore in daily life. He wasn’t sure, but he understood one thing—tonight was different from his world. And this evening might change not only those playing “snow shadows” but him as well.

He continued onward, catching a glimpse of the crimson ribbon flitting ahead. You were still out there, and he decided he wouldn’t let himself be distracted again.

She moved like a flicker of flame among the trees, and he immediately gave chase, certain it was you. His steps were confident, his gaze focused. He was accustomed to pursuit, to tracking a target—it was part of his life. But this wasn’t a battle; it was a game, and he realized there was something special, almost sweet, about this hunt.

He quickened his pace, the distance between you closing, and soon the ribbon was within his reach. Boromir reached out and grasped the edge. The girl stopped abruptly and turned.

“Was it so easy?” she said, laughing. Her mask hid her face, but the voice was unfamiliar. It wasn’t you.

He froze, slightly bewildered, then released the ribbon without a word. The girl simply smiled and, turning, headed back toward the bonfire.

“I thought you were more attentive, my lord,” came a teasing voice suddenly behind him. He turned to see you standing by a tree, your head tilted slightly as if assessing him. In your masked eyes, mischief sparkled.

He didn’t hesitate. He took a step forward, but you immediately darted away with a grace that could rival any dancer.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?” he muttered with a smirk, starting the chase.

You wove through the trees as if the forest were your home. Your figure flitted here and there, the crimson ribbon catching his eye like a beacon. You laughed, glancing over your shoulder, and that laugh sounded like a challenge.

Boromir knew he could catch you at any moment. His height, stamina, and trained body—everything suggested he needed only to quicken his pace, take a few long strides, and you would be in his grasp. But he didn’t. He let you slip away, savoring the game. Your breathing grew faster, your laughter more breathless, yet you didn’t stop.

You hid behind a tree, peeking out and casting quick, teasing glances. He drew closer, each step louder than your light movements. You laughed again, trying to wrap yourself around the tree trunk to escape to the other side. But this time, he was closer than you thought. His hand suddenly appeared from the opposite side of the tree, deftly catching your wrist.

“Tired?” he whispered, his voice low but warm. You felt his fingers, strong and warm, tighten gently around your hand, preventing you from breaking free.

You feigned a scoff, tilting your head.

“Never, my lord.” And boldly meeting his gaze, you slipped out of his grasp, sliding down into the snow and dashing off again.

Boromir laughed, his laughter echoing among the trees. He took another step forward, his hand carefully brushing against the crimson ribbon at your waist. His fingers, strong and warm, grazed the fabric, lingering for a moment. You were breathing heavily, your unsteady rhythm mirrored in the trembling shadows cast by the moonlight on the snow.

“Do I need to guess your name?” his voice was low, with a hint of amusement, but his eyes carried a flicker of something else—curiosity, expectation.

You shook your head, barely noticeably, and licked your lips, dry from the cold and the chase.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with such confidence that it almost sounded like a challenge. “You may claim your prize.”

You stepped back slightly, and your back touched a tree. There was nowhere left to run, but you didn’t intend to. Your gaze never left his face, almost entirely hidden behind the mask. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, you raised your hands and let him approach, so close that your fingers brushed the tree’s bark behind you.

“What do you want, my lord?” you whispered, your voice quiet but full of meaning.

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze traveled slowly from your eyes to the mask you wore, then back again. With one hand, he gently lifted the edge of your mask, barely touching your skin, as if afraid to disturb this fragile moment. Your mask slipped away, and the moonlight illuminated your face.

He froze for a moment, captivated by the way the moonlight caressed your face, creating a delicate interplay of light and shadow on your cheekbones, as if outlining each feature with the precision of an artist painting the most beautiful portrait. In this silvery glow, your skin appeared almost translucent, your eyes sparkling as they reflected the starry sky. His fingers, barely grazing your chin as if to lift your face, trembled slightly. In his gaze, there was not merely admiration—there was something much deeper, more sacred than fleeting infatuation or the thrill of the chase. Something that made his heart pound faster.

He leaned closer, so near that his breath brushed your lips. The deep look in his eyes, no longer hidden by the mask, revealed a whirlwind of emotions—admiration, doubt, desire, but above all, a reverence for this moment that seemed eternal.

“I…” he began, but the words seemed caught in his throat. Everything he wanted to say couldn’t express what he felt inside. Instead, his lips parted as if to continue, but he only held your gaze.

A distant horn sounded, echoing deep and long through the forest. It signaled the end of the game, but it seemed so far away as to be irrelevant. In this moment, nothing existed but the two of you. His fingers tightened gently around your chin, still tenderly, and he hesitated for the briefest instant, as if seeking permission, before closing the remaining distance.

You felt the warmth of his lips before they touched yours. It was a light contact, almost imperceptible, like the first snowy kiss of winter’s wind. But behind this gentleness lay strength—not the force of passion, but a deep, almost instinctive recognition that this moment meant far more than just a game.

The wind rustled the branches above, lifting a few snowflakes and swirling them around you. The previously noisy and lively forest seemed to hold its breath, bearing witness to this encounter.

P.S.

I genuinely believe that the people of Gondor, with their refinement and formality, are likely more restrained and calculated in matters of "romantic pursuits." Gondor, which may draw inspiration from Byzantium, likely shares similar characteristics. Their festivals, if they exist, are probably more centered on revering the Valar and observing rituals rather than expressing "human emotions."

The Rohirrim, on the other hand, are more open and sincere in their approach to love and relationships. They honor traditions, but their lives are enriched by simple joys that they weave into their customs. Their festivals, like their entire culture, are more grounded, reflecting the joy of the seasons, fertility, or prosperity. The Rohirrim likely see love as a manifestation of strength, sincerity, and courage. Their rituals are simple yet rich in symbolism—songs, dances, and ceremonies by the fire that allow people to open up to one another, breaking down social barriers. This brings their way of life closer to nature and human emotions than that of Gondor's reserved and grandiose society.

[orangeocelotmartyn]

Martyn talks a bit more about the Imp and Skizz podcast (which he’ll be on June 16) including a lovely message Skizz sent him afterwards. Transcript under the cut!

Martyn: But yeah, I got a really nice message from, uh, Skizz earlier on today about the podcast. Um, he just sent a message saying, "Hey, I'm editing part one right now, just wanted to say thanks for being so incredibly authentic. This episode's gonna be well recieved as people learn about the real you, it's extremely interesting." So...yeah. 

There was a few times I gave answers and they were both kinda sat there...almost like, they almost looked somewhat surprised, or stunned, I dont know, that I was speaking so (laughs), so, I don't know, so blatantly. And I was a bit like, "ooh, is that too much?" (laughs), I was just like, "oop." 

And earlier in the podcast as well—so please forgive me when you watch it—ah, there was a few times in, uh, like, the first hour, where I kept kinda like, chipping in, or chiming in, and kinda like, speaking over them? And it wasn't intentional, it was more—there was a very slight delay on the, um, on the feed between the two of us—and also as well, sometimes, like, their sentence, or what they were saying, felt like the tone of their voice was like indicating the end of their statement, but then they would say something else, and I'd be like, "oop-ah-I'm so—sorry, sorry." (laughs)

So yeah, that, that happened a little bit. But that's not just me completely ignoring their saying, it was just me, um, navigating—like, learning how they speak, as well as—y'know, the lag as well.

"Got a long plane ride coming up so it sounds interesting," yeah—the thing—the thing that I said to them as well, I said like, I think the reason I did speak openly and honestly about it is, one, because of my recent therapy, but also because I find those two incredibly authentic. Like, you know, Impulse is very open, about talking about, like, how much he second guesses himself, and things like that, and then Skizz is—you know—very much like, I think Skizz is kinda like the person I've become, or am becoming, where it's—there's a lot of, kinda, self love, and kinda unapologeticness with stuff like that. 

Um, so I think speaking to both of them meant that I felt as though I'm literally in a limbo between their two personality types which is why it felt so easy to speak about those things, is because I feel though they've both experienced it, or are currently experiencing those things. Um, and I was saying to them, like, whenever I watch their podcast and they talk about stuff—like, they do a lot of, kinda like, sorta like pushing for people to help themselves kinda thing. But I was saying to them that, like, it always genuinely feels really authentic, and doesn't feel...it doesn't feel preachy, or—they're not trying to shift some course, or some pyramid scheme thing, its—they've just both got some good life experience behind them and they've had time to learn lessons and stuff, and I was just like, yeah, like, this feels like a space where they will-they will pick up what I put down, y'know what I mean.

Um, it was really good. I said to them towards the end I was like, this was like—I think is it the word cathartic? I think I said that, I dunno if that's the right word, but for me I was like, oh that felt really good. That felt great for me.

[k-s-morgan]

Hi there! Greetings from Argentina, I hope you're doing well. Sorry for my English, I'm using a translator 😅 I've read your Kuro fanfic and I'm absolutely fascinated! I spent many hours enjoying each storyline. I have some questions about the future development, will you include the arcs of 'the green witch' and 'the blue cult' in the plot?

Hi! Thank you, it's so lovely of you to get in touch <3 I'm happy you like my story.

I probably won't include these future animated arcs into my story. Partly it's because from what I know, they are going to touch on the twin plot more heavily, and Ciel doesn't have a twin in my fic. Also, I feel like trying to incorporate all these arcs will only delay the serious development between the characters. There is still so much ground to cover with the existing episodes - at the pace Ciel and Sebastian are going now, they'll be even bigger idiots if they fail to figure things out for this long :D

[whoopsyeahokay]

Final Housekeeping

October Sun

this a collection of all the silly notes i left before and after each installment of October Sun (Wally Clark x fem!reader). since the story is complete, i decided to tidy the posts up by removing the now irrelevant notes.

this post is entirely self-indulgent. a place for me to return and admire the experiences i had throughout writing this story 😊

1

end note: i'll just leave this here for now :-)

2

end note: PART THREE will be up this weekend; a glimpse at Wally's POV as he confronts you about being able to see him👻

3

intro note: love youuu 🙃

end note: next up is Field Day, things happen, oopsies are made, and the plot not only thickens, it gets juicy. i had intended this part to incorporate all of that, but Doordash delivered caffeinated coffee when i'd explicitly ordered decaf 😭 i have ADHD, so real-people coffee slows me dooooown and makes my brain mashed potatoes 🥺 sorry, guys!

4

intro note: ✨ alright, beauties, this part ended up with a wordcount almost 3x longer the others, so tumblr forced me to split 'er up. 😅 PART FIVE and PART SIX will be posted in tandem with this one, so y'all don't have to wait to read both 😊

5

intro note: i had some serious technical issues with these parts, so my fingers are crossed that everything worked!

end note: next part is all Wally being about as subtle as a neon sign 💀 he's too cute, i need to give the babe hugs and snugs and dry smacky kisses all over his lil' face 💕 but that's a PART SEVEN problem 😏

6

intro note: as promised, here's PART SIX, no wait necessary! 🫶😅

end note: i'm gonna do my best to get the next part up in a timely manner, but please bear with! thank you again, my dudes, for sticking with what is becoming a behemoth of a story 💀 i probably should've mentioned that it's a very involved, very dense plot, huh? 🙃

7

end note: guys. GUUUYYS. THANK YOU!! your response to this story has been incredible and i am deeply grateful for your engagement 😭 like, i cannot even BEGIN to express how much it means to me that y'all are interested in what i've got to share 😭 i intend to have the next part up soon, but i've just started back at school so🤞

8

end note: they're so good at talking, eh? 😏 anyway, to let y'all in on my little headcanon: Hana is "helpful student" from episode 2, the girl who alerts Mr. Anderson to the deputy at the door when the class is watching Frankenstein (1931).

9

intro note: at last, the bbys have words! which means this is a long one 🕊️

end note: dun dun dun...i really hope you guys are still with me 😅 the next update might take me a little longer. between schoolwork and work-work and Life Things, i'm kinda swamped, but i'll do my absolute best to getter done!

sidenote: please let me know if the taglist ISN'T working for you. i'm fiddling with it in the hopes that something will work, so i need some feedback 🫥 merci my loves!

10

intro note: sorry for the delay, beauties! i was so behind on so many things and am still nursing a rather gruesome cold 🪦 made this one longer to make up for it 🫶

end note: i am so sorry to those of you who the taglist isn't working for! i stg, i am trying everything i can think of to fix the links, but nothing has worked so far 💔 thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for sticking with this story despite all the technical difficulties!

if you'd like to be kept up-to-date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS as the taglist isn't currently working ☠️

11

end note: thank you so much for reading, lovelies! i'm currently working on the next update (which is Reader/Wally-focused) and am hopeful that it'll be ready by the end of this week! so keep an eye out 👀 (@banana-lol no accidents pls 😉)

if you'd like to be kept up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS, since the taglist has malfunctioned 🙈 i'm still adding ppl to it, but i can't guarantee that it'll notify you when i update 💀

12

intro note: 🚨 THIS IS WHEN our plot diverges significantly from the source material. i felt i should alert you since i've stuck pretty close to the canon timeline until the last installment, and you may have come to expect things to follow that rhythm 😅

that being said, this one's shorter as the next one's gonna be a journey.

end note:

fun fact: my Wally Clark headcanon includes him waking up most mornings in his football uniform, cleats and helmet on, a stain of drool on the padded shoulder of his field jersey, just game-ready and nowhere to go 🏈

note: the next part should be out Sunday or Monday 😌 i wanna get into Homecoming Week sooner rather than later as things pick up and move along pretty quickly thereafter. although i know i've mentioned the rather involved plot this beast hatched, i really wanna finish this before June 🙏

(edit 2024-06-09:

🧠: 😏

Me: 😑

we still have so much to cover omg.)

reblog note:

NEW MATERIAL HAS BEEN ADDED TO THIS PART

an additional 1300 words have been tacked on after Wally's POV. a thousand apologies to those of you who've already read it 🙏 nothing else has been touched.

i was going to post the mini-chapter separately, but it didn't feel right as a standalone. it's supposed to be in PART TWELVE. i don't make the rules 😬

PART THIRTEEN will hopefully still be out either Sunday or Monday 👀 god willing 🪬

13

intro note: sorry for the delay, gorgeous ghouls; school bit me in the booty. like, just took a whole chunk of my 🍑 in its teeth and tore 🦈 but that's done now 🫠 onwards and upwards!

end note: friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears! i'll be traveling about 4 time zones back tomorrow and might not have the opportunity to write again until Monday 😔 i'll get the next part up as soon as i can, though, i promise. definitely before the end of next week 🫶

14

end note: i'm so sorry for any confusion, my darling dears 🥺 i'm so grateful that y'all are on this journey with me (and what a journey it is), and i wanna make sure i give you good quality content. i needed to weed out the issues and feel that what's now written is a better reflection of what's to come. bless you all, you delicious specimens 😘

15

intro note: blessings, blessings, everyone. i come bearing new(ish) content! 🫶

end note: hey my beauties!! thank you so so so so so MUCH for bearing with me as i ironed out the kinks in the plot's fabric. i feel a lot more confident about how to move forward. things just make more sense. i hope everyone is cool with the changes made and that you're still willing to ride this through til the end with meee 🫶

16

intro note: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ if you haven't read the updated versions of THIRTEEN, FOURTEEN & FIFTEEN, please do so, otherwise this part won't make sense 😅

end note: this was a lot trickier than i thought it would be, but i gotter done 💪 thank you again for your patience and support, fam <3 i'm so lucky to have you guys 😭

if you'd like to be kept up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS, since the taglist has malfunctioned 🙈 i'm still adding ppl to it, but i can't guarantee that i'll ever use it since attempting to fix the problem is starting to destroy my sanity 💀

17

end note:

fun fact: Mathilda Grace would be played by actress Cree Cicchino, for anyone who prefers having a visual reference 🖼️✨

note: alright, 16-17-18 are the thorns in my side; irksome and nit-picky and ruthless in their desire to include more of e4 than necessary. i'm finally happy with this one, though it took the week to smooth out the creases, and am already working on the next part to have out posthaste.

thank you so much for your patience, my doves 🫶

18

intro note: this one may be difficult to follow as i use omniscient POV in some instances rather than third-person. i hope i managed to make the head-hopping clear 🫶

end note: this chapter was written to Amber Run's I Found (TXME Remix). i have a whole soundtrack for this series that i'd like to present once October Sun is complete, but i couldn't keep this one to myself. it's so intense and perfectly captures the fracturing of Reader's mind as she sits in that classroom with her friend's possible abuser.

19 (original)

end note:

fun fact: my high school art teacher (who was also my favorite teacher and probably the best human ever) often had wine in her coffee mug during class. I imagine the Split River High art teacher does the same 😎

Ms. Gendron, if you're out there, salut 🍷

note: we had company throughout the process of writing this part. a little rascal-beans who made it very hard to type 🐈 because hands are playthings and cuddles are of the utmost importance, human, what are you thinking doing other things? (WhoopsBro left his kitty with us for a few days to fumigate his apartment and the wee beast is full of shenanigans 🐾💨)

.

.

.

if you'd like to be kept up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS, since the taglist has malfunctioned 🙈 i am no longer adding people to is as i can't guarantee it'll ever be used again. attempting to fix the problem destroyed my sanity 💀

19 (new)

end note: firstly, i actually really like Claire. i don't think she's a pick me, but i do think she's hella misguided and very entitled. clever, vicious, and kind of terrifying. many things but not a pick me. but Wally doesn't know anything about her except that she and Xavier had a whole sexuationship behind Maddie's back and our babe is loyal.

anyway, isn't this much better? or maybe you don't think so, i dunno, but i'm a lot happier with this part 😅 i truly love writing the dynamic between our 3 main ghosts and the 3 seat-fillers (Ajay, Bernie and Katelynn), but, sadly, those scenes don't always serve a purpose. i'm considering writing brief Asides. in-universe drabbles of our favorite haunt's day-to-day. legit, i have fanfic for my fanfic at this point...

20

end note: all i kept picturing is this teeny-tiny madwoman glaring ferociously at the squad car as she drives after it to keep an eye on Simon. a crazy, over-protective witch just yelling profanities out of her window at the cops the whole way to the station. Mathilda is a delight.

21

end note: not edited, we die like students at Split River High.

anyway, thank you so much for keeping up with this journey, my beloveds! the next part might be out sooner than i thought since i have a few days off this coming week. no promises, just hopeful thinking 😭 expect a comical stage as Ajay tries to keep Wally from giving everything away 👻 we have fun here...

ABOUT THE TAGLIST: i'm afraid i am no longer updating or using the taglist. moving forward, if you'd like to keep up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS. that thing took me to Hell and back, and we're no longer on speaking terms...😒

22

intro note: this one's gonna be long. well, long-er than i'm used to posting in one shot lol

end note: dun dun dun...next part will be out sometime in the end of the week, God willing 🤞

all i imagined during the whole rooftop scene is Ajay just standing there, head in his hands, muttering, "this is why we can't have nice things." that poor, gentle boy needs a raise.

23

intro note: i lied...it's 5308 words omg

end note: expect the second part to undergo some editing. it unfolded exactly how it was supposed to but i ran outta steam today. we got ourselves a little potato to dogsit for the next three weeks and she's been a handful 🥔🐶

24 (original)

end note: *appears from a cloud of smoke, cloaked and shadowy, Final Countdown blaring* let the games begin!

25 (original)

intro note: sorry for the delay, loves, work was overwhelming (it's busy season) and i'm sick and it was a lot 😩⚰️ ilyg 🫶

end note: Waiting for Godot is so stripped down that I disliked it immensely. also, please remember that time moves differently between the worlds of the living and the dead. so the 2 seconds it takes Xavier to lose his shit is, like, enough minutes in the metaphysical world for our ghost friends to find the forged receipt. like Narnia...it's been a thousand years O.o (iykyk)

26 (original)

end note: fun fact: i'd toyed with the "ppl can see Wally when Reader touches him" reveal for some time, initially thinking i'd do it at the Homecoming Dance. but. plot happened so...yeah no, it didn't work anymore 🤷‍♀️ also, i would've had to account for Nicole, Claire, Mathilda, Hana, Eli...everyone. possibly teachers. all the ghosts. i love writing ensemble scenes, but that is too many moving pieces.

24 (final version)

intro note: 🚨💀⚠️thank you for bearing with me, guys. this is entirely new material. PART 24/25/26 have been combined here to create a massive fluffing installment (6509 words 😮‍💨). i'd suggest rereading at least the latter half of PART 23 beforehand if you need a refresh of the point in time we're returning to. please pretend that the old parts never happened. erase them from your memories 🕰️👁️‍🗨️💤🌀

end note: i am of the belief that Mr. South is spooky in his own right and doesn't need Reader to expose him to the supernatural. agree with me or not, his ominous words to Simon at the beginning of the season set me on a path that i can't ignore 🤭

i really hope you guys are okay with how i'm reworking this. i know i gave away a pretty major spoiler, and i regret that so much because i dearly want you all to enjoy this, but it had to be done. otherwise i was more than likely going to throw in the towel. rest assured, there is SO MUCH more to unfold.

ABOUT THE TAGLIST: y'all know, it ain't a thing around here anymore due to the overuse of ritual magic, some demon-summoning, and an unfortunate sacrifice that resulted in more technical issues than tumblr could handle 🔮🗡️ if you'd like to be kept up-to-date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS. we have fun here (•¯ ∀ ¯•)

25

intro note: 📜🪶🧡 guess who's baaAAAAaaack~ 👁️👅👁️ thank you everyone for being patient. it was your support that motivated me to write through brain fog and fatigue and the various other symptoms i'm experiencing rn. big ups, bbs 😘 this is the slipperiest of slopes as we close October Sun and step into October Moon. i hope it's everything you've been waiting for (*serenely dodges tomatoes and accusations of clickbaiting smut*). tysm my dearest loves 💘

26

intro note: ⏰we continue...🐾 we clocked in at 6818 words. for anyone triggered by violence or murder, especially involving children, the plot will still make sense if you choose to SKIP that scene. it begins in Act 3 when we return to Wally's POV. i have indicated that act with "‗‗‗‗🚩‗‗‗‗" to avoid confusion. if you wish to back-arrow out but would like a summary of events, please DM me and i'll happily catch you up in a gentler way 🧡

end note: unedited. written at midnight. you know the drill: i will most likely come back to tinker at the bits i think need fixing 😅

this chapter was written to Daylight (Cinematic) by David Kushner (Act 3). parts of Act 3 had also been inspired by Devil Devil by Milck, specifically the violence that unfolds when Christopher Nears attacks Living Man. the last act was written to Outta My Head by The Eagle Rock Gospel Singers. if anyone is interested in an October Sun playlist, it will be released upon completion of the story (i.e.: after PART 27)🥲🥀

27

end note: i will definitely be tinkering away here tomorrow 💀

Act 1 was written to The Night We Met (Slowed & Thunder Storm) by Lord Huron. Act 5 was written to You're Somebody Else by Flora Cash. finally, Act 6 was written to Willow Tree March by The Paper Kites.

i can't believe it, guys. we made it. (ignoring that i now have less that 3 weeks to accomplish Series 2 before the second season airs...) thank you everyone who's still clinging for their lives on the sides of this chaos canoe. you're all legends and i love each and every one of you to the moon and beyond 😭

[yumedoca]

Alright, my fellow UY folks!! Since the new trailer has dropped, why don't we unpack everything they've shown us so far?

Or more specifically, what all chapters are getting adapted in the third cour (only third since they won't reveal footage for the fourth one till the third is over.)!!

Also, ignore the stupid quality since I took the pictures on my phone..

First up is the Kurama - Ran - Rei two-parter!! Nice to see Kurama again since I was worried she would be a one time character since she didn't appear in the eye catches. However, I'm pretty sure this is going to be her last appearance since it's her final appearance in the manga (not counting cameos). It's one of the funnier Kurama chapters, so this will be great fun!!

Next up is the 'Fantasy bubblegum' chapter!! Another one I didn't think which would be adapted since we see Ten order the key item in this chapter in the post credits of the love-love crystal ball episode. Maybe the order was delayed? Or Ten didn't use it till now? Who knows. Anyways, this is a pretty funny chapter and I'm excited to see how it turns out (Also BenOyu yuri, Let's goo!!!)

AtaLum fans, Let's rejoice, because it looks like they're adapting "Love knows no barriers" aka the chapter where Lum gets hit with the rice cooker!!! This one is my favorite singular chapter in the series and I absolutely hated the original anime's version of this one so I hope the remake does this one justice!! I'm not sure whether the first one is from this chapter since Ataru's wearing his school uniform instead of his casuals, but maybe it's because of a few changes here and there. DavidPro, you better not disappoint me considering what the original did.

Looks like we're going to get the chapter which introduces the Ryuunosuke's mom (Masako) saga. I'm not sure whether they'll adapt everything under this saga, but the first one seems to be there. I really like this chapter because we get a wholesome relationship between Ryu and Ataru's mom.

THE BODYSWAP CHAPTER!!! This one comes a bit earlier from what I remember and not to mention, it's pretty hilarious (literally any chapter where Sakura has to deal with Ataru's BS is an A+ for me) so I'm super excited!!

ASUKA, MY CHILD!! IT'S HER!! Finally one of my UY Blorbo's gets animated!! And considering the shot of her and Ton- chan, yes guys, they're keeping the incest. I've never understood why there were some who said they wouldn't adapt it but like, it's one of Asuka's main character points and the incest is clearly portrayed as wrong and unacceptable, similar to Ataru's lecherous behavior (They might still tone it down though). Anyways, I'm so excited for Asuka, I can't wait!!!

And finally, two very beloved and very important arcs!! First, I can't believe we're getting three AtaLum stories in this cour, I mean we deserve it after being fed with only one last cour. And second, I'm pretty sure both these arcs are going to be at least a whole episode long considering how big these two are. And I have to admit, the door realm looks so pretty.. and I'm so excited for Shingo, Inaba and their arcs, can't January come already???

And that's all for it!! Other than these, there were two to three shots I couldn't exactly place which chapter they belong to, so sorry about that. And I wanted to point out that the animation looks quite fluid in some scenes as well, so it looks like DavidPro is doing great work as expected. Anyways, UY is coming back once again on January 11th and I am so ready!! THE HYPE IS REAL!!!

[sudriantraveler]

So, after being reminded of the insanity that is Oliver Bulleid's Leader Class, and by extension some of the stranger aspects of Bulleid's engines in general, I have spiraled off into thinking of a new headcanon / additional bit of characterization for Rebecca.

For anyone who doesn't know, Oliver Bullied was the Chief Mechanical Engineer for the Southern Railway starting in 1937, and is partially known for several of his designs featuring some unorthodox features, most notably his use of chain driven valve gear.

Rebecca is a Bulleid Light Pacific, so I feel it would fit to take some inspiration from the previous information about her builder, appropriately turned up to 11 for comedic effect and to fit the overall tone of the BWBA seasons of TTTE.

Consider:

Rebecca as a massive nerd / tinkerer / mad scientist of an engine, who is constantly experimenting with silly, outside the box, and very overly complicated solutions to problems, as well as just trying out various dumb ideas for the hell of it.

She notices her brakes are beginning to wear out and decided to try and extend the time before she has to get them fixed by instead stopping by throwing her wheels into reverse.

Pro: Less damage to brakes

Con: More damage to... everything else.

She hears about how the Skarloey Railway used to run gravity trains and decides to see how far the troublesome trucks can go on their own if released from the top of Gordon's Hill...

On the mainline...

Without telling anyone...

Maybe she spends a lot of time hanging around the Dieselworks of all places, because she's endlessly fascinated by the jury-rigged and patchwork repairs that have been made over the years to the work's equipment.

Den and Dart are confused by this, but feel very honored when Rebecca calls then "resourceful" and "innovative" for how they have kept the Dieselworks running.

There's even some support for this characterization in canon.

Rebecca is shown to be fascinated by the unique features of Harvey, Marion, and Belle in the episode What Rebecca Does and wishes she had something unique for herself.

She seems to have an appreciation for unusual designs built to solve specific problems and do special tasks.

Then there's this quote from Rebecca's introductory scene in the episode Confusion Without Delay:

“Hello, sir. And, uh, sorry, sir. I miscalculated how long it would take me to stop…by, uh, quite a lot!”

The use of "miscalculated" feels like it fits with what I've laid out so far, like she actually tried to do the math in her head to come to a precise stop and it just didn't work out.

Now, is all of this very silly and a bit dumb? Yes

But is it funny? Also yes

Not only that, but there's honestly some pretty good story potential here.

Like, what if there was an episode with Rebecca and Duck?

There could be a conflict between Ducks adherence to the tried-and-true and very practical Great Western Way, and Rebecca's desire to always think outside the box and try something new.

And Rebecca's trying to be respectful of and go along with Ducks way of doing things, but frankly she just keeps getting bored and ends up inevitably distracted with trying out he own new ideas.

Most of them don't work, and fail in comedic fashion.

But one of Rebecca's ideas actually looks like it could succeed...

Until Duck, but now tired of the delays to his work, interrupts and unintentionally causes the whole thing to fall apart.

The eventual resolution to this story could then come in the form of the Slip Coaches being brought into the mix.

The Slip Coaches, who are a product of the Great Western Railway, and yet are also an example of a seemingly strange and outside the box idea, which proved to be successful when given the chance.

The story could then conclude with the moral of how some ideas that seem stupid might just need a bit of extra time and patience to develop and refine them into a practical application.

[mayasaurusss]

Chapter two: Saint Lawrence's martyrdom. A/N: This took me far longer than I thought it would😅. I am very sorry about the delay. I hope my writing and storytelling has evolved since one year ago. ! This chapter in particular had three dream scenarios. I know it might get old fast, but given the trauma it leaves on the reader, I'd challenge everyone who wouldn't have a fever dream trip. I hope you guys will enjoy this installment of Curses! Edit: I realized I accidentally exchanged two moments in the episode, but I don't think it'll break the immersion; if it does, let me know so I might work around it.

Contains: heavy description of wounds, dead dove do not eat.

Today the world seems bigger, larger, louder and hotter than usual. Loud sounds fill your ears, disturbing you as you try to draw the perfect circle on a sheet of paper, but failing to do so; your hands are too small and clumsy, and you have trouble trying to control the flow of the colorful wax.

You huff, angry and impatient, but suddenly you're taken up, the world now distant from your eyes.

Someone takes you in their arms; your dad is laughing, you still feel so very small in his giant arms, like a kitten. You can't really see his face, his young self erased by time, only his voice recognizable. He moves, walking too fast for your liking, and you watch as the white walls of your home are replaced by green and blue hues.

Dad places you near his seat, where he can have you under his eyes, protected by all the evils in the world. You feel something soft under you; two coloured pillows, as fluffy and comfy as they can be aid, placed so you can reach the table. Its surface is covered in a cheap paper cloth, so white that it could blind you.

The grown ups are always so loud when they talk, discussing meaningless things, things that kids your age don't think about. You don't listen to them, watching with amazement as a ladybug crawls on the table, its shape and colours isolating it from the endless white paper. "So, how old are you dear?" the old woman at the end of the table asks you, her eyes smiling under her glasses; how long has it been since you've seen her? Days? Weeks? Months?

"Four. She's four". Ah, that's right. You're three. Your teacher had taught you to count till ten, but sometimes you still forget how old you are.

You're four, it's summer and you are happy. The wind is blowing through the trees of the park your dad takes you to every day, the sun high in the blue sky.

You're four, it's summer, and you are happy.

You still hear your dad and the old woman talk, countless voices joining and swirling together, too loud to track in between the cicadas buzzing.

When mom arrives, she sits next to you, smiling as you laugh and clap your hands when she gives you a plate full of your favorite dish. As much as you're happy about finally eating, the plate in front of you looks weird: you can't see anything, only smell it. Colours mix where the food should be, making it unrecognizable to you.

"Sweetie, aren't you going to eat?" despite how strange things seem to be, you take your green plastic fork, following a script that has already been written.

The fork can only dig so much in, until the food spills all over the tablecloth, colouring it a deep red. You discard the fork, leaving it untouched and reach for the food with your hands, before dad comes in and helps you. He is strong enough that he manages to pierce the food -something that you still have trouble with- and with his hand, aids you into eating. Learning the movement is difficult, but after your dad so graciously helped you, you mimic him, taking the fork in your hand and beginning to eat again.

You finish your plate, the food satiating a hunger you didn't think your little body could feel. But you want more. You ask for more.

The blood tinted snow doesn't bother you too much, but the idea that they could get more of her than you makes a heavy jealousy pull at your heart and stomach. You dig in again, ignoring the feeling of her lungs touching the back of your hands,

Something stings you, just a couple of inches from your elbow. You don't mind too much, until it starts to get hot; hot, hot like lava, like molten sugar on your skin, like sunshine burning an ant nest. Your body can't handle it, every cell, every nerve screaming at you to smite it, to just take it off of you. The scream that leaves your body could have been mistaken for a banshee, alerting everyone at the table. Your body is taken up, frantically checked for anything out of the ordinary, but nothing is there. You scream, scream scream scream until no air is left in your lungs, until the world fades to a charred black, until every limb of yours lays motionless. The burning travels up your arm, up, up, up...

"There, it's all good. It was just a ladybug bite, nothing I can't handle".

Dad takes your hand and gives it a kiss, shooing the pain away. "Yes dear, everything is alright" mom gives you a kiss, smooshing your little cheeks in her hands. There, cuddled between them, you are safe. The world is warm, full of love. It's summer, you're three; everything will be fine. "Mom...Dad!"

Everything will be fine.

Mom... Dad…

"...lp! Someone! Pl-..." smoke fills the interiors of the plane, pitch black, so dense she can't make out the shape of the body next to her. Vanessa feels weak, her fingers unsuccessfully fiddling with the seatbelt, trying to tear it open. Her body is pushed against the seat in front of her, plastic pressed against her throath. Her teammates have all abandoned her, all of them. You grunt, just now coming back to the world. "We- we have to get out!" searching for the opening of the seatbelt, Van pulls hard, to no avail. Desperation fills her heart, like a parasite eating at her lungs. The fire is getting closer; blazing hot, burning the oxygen in the plane. As if somehow God himself helped her, Van manages to push her legs beneath herself, cramping nerves and blood vessels and slips free. Fire burns the floor faster, and despite feeling terribly guilty, Van runs, escaping and leaving you behind. You don't wake up. The only thing that exists is heat and darkness. As the fire travels up your arm, you are suddenly brought back to the world violently, smoke filling your brain and burning you alive. You scream, scream as loudly as your body can, marrow melting inside your bones, nerves dying, blood pooling at your guts, body decaying. You scream for your father, you scream for your mother. Why aren't they here? Why can't they save you? Someone takes your arm, tugging you with their whole force from the seats in front of you, slipping you free from the fire's cruel grasps. They run with you, dragging your burning body with them. Vanessa emerges from the plane's door, her voice strained and tears flowing from her eyes. "Somebody, please help!" you are immediately thrown on the forest floor, its coolness a welcomed feeling; then, someone repeatedly hits you with a cloth until the last flame has been smithen.

"Find water! Anything at all!" steps and screams echo in the forest, as people scatter around to look for anything to use as aid. Some find a bottle of water, shirts that can be ripped open, a makeup cleanser, a bottle of cream... anything to save you. For the past minutes, Misty has been running up and down, medicating everyone that needed help, cleaning blood, stitching skin. Anything that might've helped her teammates. Misty, in these moments, has the fate of everyone on her shoulders. That cold, calculating side of her came in handy for this situation, but despite the things that she had to do and saw, this might be too much for her.

Fire has eaten away at your skin, exposing the red bloodied meat underneath, made all more disgusting by the charred black skin at the borders. Your flesh is littered by pustules, forming disgusting constellations across your body. But what's worse is the smell; acrid, putrid, like burned up pig meat, like waste and grease. Misty can't do it. She can't. This is far too much for her, this is too much. For a moment, she wishes you would just die. How can a life after this be truly lived? You'd be more helpful to all of them if you just died. Someone grabs at her shoulder, shaking her out of her trance. "Misty!" Vanessa cries, tears straining at the corner of her eyes. Her teeth clatter against each other, adrenaline coursing through her. "Can't you do something?!". Misty looks back at you, her brain unable to process what is happening. She sees herself out of her body, everyone surrounding her, the life of someone in her hands. She can. She can do something.

"The cleanser, the cleanser. And the bottle of water" she uses the leftover makeup cleanser on your worst wounds, careful to use every last drop of it. Then the water, dumped all over your skin. With the strand of cloth given to her, Misty wraps up all of your wounds, from smaller to larger. Your arm and hand, ribs and stomach, hip and shin. Your face remains last. The burn runs from your jaw across the cheek, almost reaching your eye. Small pustules pulse near the burn. Contrary to your hand and arm, in far worse shape, your face was subjected to only a second degree burn. It wasn't going to scar; not too deep, at least. "What do we do now?" a small voice asks, weak in the silence of the forest. "We wait; and hope she'll wake up".

Endless darkness. That is what you wake up to, your body a sharp contrast against this bidimensional space. Where am I?

You try to move, but find your legs submerged into murky waters, waves of black goop staining you. Walking proves more difficult than you'd thought, strings of that sticky substance keeping you in place, snapping and mixing back with its body of origin. You don't know why you walk, you don't know where you're headed, but you simply do, following a script that had already been written for you. Minutes, hours, years and centuries go by, and the space stills, as if whatever this is, it's out of the borders of time.

You walk and walk, walk until your legs feel like lead, until you are nothing more than a machine, mindlessly walking to its doom. Your eyes, who's gaze had fallen to concentrate on the movement of the waves beneath you. They seem to change shape, sometimes, reflection of faces and hands reaching out to you meeting your gaze. But one of those reflections proves to be true; cold, slimy fingers hook on your skin, bringing you closer to the surface of the water. Terror doesn't fill you right away, but when your brain processes what is happening, you are out of breath. Every inch of your skin feels like it has been dried in the cold winter wind, your blood flowing like freezed river waters breaking apart their surfaces. You can try to fight it, but you won't succeed. Thousands, billions of fingers, their fingers, take a hold of you, dragging you down with them. As the black water fills your lungs, howling echoes from the distance. You drown.

On the other side of the waking world, Lottie is pacing through the camp, her heart pounding and her brain fatigued, trying to make sense of what is happening. She feels strange, disembodied from herself, nowhere close to what is happening to her teammates around her.

Just... what the fuck happened? "I am sorry, I am sorry, please..." Lottie turns around towards the source of the sound, not expecting to see Van kneeling next to you. She's holding a hand to her lips, choking her sobs down, while simultaneously near, but not daring to touch you in any way. Lottie gets nearer, her brain scrambling to get to a solution. She can't understand what's wrong; why would Van be apologizing to you? And why now? You're clearly sleeping-.

The first thing that she notices is the pink colour of exposed meat. Then, the extent of the burns register inside her mind: from the outer thigh to the middle of your side; from your hand, running across your arm to end in the middle of your cheek. But what alienates her most of all is your expression. You look... calm, as if you've just gone to bed. You look dead.

"What... what happened?" Van doesn't seem to question her presence; only answers, without breaking eye contact with the burns on your body. "I don't know. She, she was next to me. The fire was so close and..." she's in the plane again, fire burning oxygen and skin, the smell of flesh in the air. She can't say it. tears flood her eyes, her voice dying in her throath and not a moment later, Vanesssa is gone, walking through the camp, searching for a place to stop and cry alone.

Lottie is left alone with your body, the slow rise of your chest the only indicator that you are still alive.

This is your fault, you know. What? If you had asked her to sit next to you, she wouldn't be left like this, half dead. No, no. It wasn't my fault. The plane crashed. I couldn't have known. Yet, because of you, she will die. She won't, Misty- Do you really believe that she will survive? Even if she did today, the trauma left will do the rest of the job the fire couldn't. It's your fault, Lottie.

"No, it fucking isn't" she pronounces the words with her teeth gritted, pure hatred for it in every syllable she pronounces. She takes a moment to realize that she said the words out loud, the worried glances of her teammates burning on her skin. She can feel herself slipping out of sanity, those voices that plagued her since she was a kid coming back stronger, angrier. She just...she has to find her pills. Right now.

A scream of pain interrupts her thoughts, taking her back to reality. As if attracted like a magnet, Lottie follows it, with her the whole lot of the team. What they find in front of them, is something that could only be a part of a horror movie. Coach Scott on the ground, a wing of the plane crushing his lower body. He's barely holding on to conscience, his eyes switching to unfocused every few seconds.

He seems to be barely relieved when he spots Misty and the others approaching him. "Hey girls... is it, uh, can you move it?". Lottie really doesn't want to. Something in her tells her to leave him and be selfish, but she knows better than to listen.

Her fingers hook onto the border of the wing, pushing it upwards, before, with the shared effort of everyone, they manage to slide it just enough to release Ben from his death trap. But what they see is far from relieving.

Ben's leg, now twirled on itself disgustingly, looking like a pile of flesh and blood. He doesn't manage to stay awake long enough to see it, and passes out from the pain. Lottie's legs give out from underneath her, her stomach churning at the amount of blood. She can't stop her voice from screaming "Oh fucking God!", cannot process what's happening. But not before long, Misty returns. Maybe she can do something, maybe with her help, coach Ben will-.

For a split second, the sun seems to highlight the cut of the blade, reflecting silver onto the forest floor. It swings down onto Ben's leg, hard, cutting it clean off of the useless rest of the limb. The horror that follows is palpable in the air. Mari can't contain the rest of her lunch and spills it on the ground. Natalie could very well be the truest depiction of horror there ever was. Lottie can't breathe, her lungs hiccupping back every bit of air in them. And Misty moves with eerie precision, every action she does calculated. Anything to keep Ben alive. She pushes glasses back on her face, fighting the need to throw up building up in her throath. With her belt she stops the flow of blood trickling down Ben's veins, checking if any drops fall down, before she turns to her teammates, her face painted in red.

"Help me move him!"

The forest is silent. Snow stifles every sound you or nature makes, giving it an eerie yet calm atmosphere. The world looks so blue, the shades of the sky reflected on the snow. You could lose yourself in this place and never come back, but those things on your trail make it harder to enjoy the scenery.

You have been running for a while now, legs barely able to sustain your weight, and the harsh wind nipping at your skin certainly doesn’t make your escape easy. They have been on you for the past half hour. No matter where you run, they seem to always be one step ahead. You are a victim, a prey, an easy meal; and they are your predators,the cunning hunters that will devour you in just a matter of time.

But maybe you can escape them. Maybe, if you just bury yourself in the snow, they won’t-. Howls echo in the distance, approaching every second. Everything cries, from the wind to the crows' song, from their screams to yours.

You can’t do anything but try to move through the thick snow. Despite everything, you still want to live. Your survival instincts carry you before your brain can think, and you run and run and run, until you fall like all the others before you. But yours is an excruciating death, one that could maybe rival what the others went through: wooden spikes pierce your body, your organs failing, your brain shutting down, leaving you impaled like a victim of a meaningless murder. The one that finds you doesn’t see you as anything other than a meal, a promise of a nice dinner. You are taken back to them, paraded like a crude display of man’s dominance over nature, as if all your existence was reduced to cattle, to be consumed. You are nothing more, you never were anything else. 

They leave you to dry, the wound opened on your side drying you of all the blood that once gave you life. After all, who would want to bite on a delicious, perfectly cooked piece of meat, only to find their mouth filled with blood? It’s alright, you think, sometimes the weak have to die so that humanity may strive. It’s what has happened since the beginning of time, and it will continue up until the very end. But you were more than that, you were more than a meal. You were someone, with hobbies and things you loved. But in the harsh conditions of nature, were you really anything other than meat?

They cook you just right, offering your flesh to their queen, sustaining her. This reminds you of something you read what feels like an eternity ago. The yellow jacket, or vespula maculifrons, if you focus on its eastern variation. A type of predatory social wasp. Aggressive when provoked, the swarm of sterile female insects will be relentless when defending their home. Instead of foraging for pollen, the eastern yellowjackets hunt other insects. Their adults feed the larvae with a dissected chewed paste made of insects and carcasses. 

You'd think that the human species had evolved the basic rules of nature, but as you lock gaze with your own eyes, boring into your skull, you can't help but laugh in your mind; we really haven't changed since the first of us walked the earth. 

As the queen gives the command, they barely hold themselves before they swarm your body. Someone pulls at your hair, another bites at your chest, hands dig into your stomach, teeth ripping your limps apart. You watch as you eat yourself, another version of you consuming what once was yours and hers. 

And as they tweeze out your eyes, discarding them into the snow, colours merge with one another, bone marrow melts away into your sockets and you are reduced to nothing more than a liquefied corpse. 

You start to remember everything that ever happened to you, everything and everyone that you ever were: you are a high school girl on her way to her first soccer practice. You are a man who’s disillusioned with reality. You are a kid who hurt herself on a hot summer’s day. A  woman who’s plagued by voices; a boy who just wanted to live. You are a young girl who just wants her mother’s affections, you are a woman who can’t let go of the past. 

You are ancient; as ancient as the first roots born in the earth. You have been walking on this earth long enough that the first civilizations spoke of you as the ghost haunting the woods. You are a concept, winter itself. You are hunger. And now, now you have a chance: with them, you will what humanity is truly capable of. You will be given a name.

You close your claws on the girl’s shoulder, sinking them deep into her skin. Brought back to your body, you slowly come back to the world of the living. You hear Its voice, disembodied and as sounding like wind chimes and guttural animal sounds. “Good luck”. 

When you finally wake up, it's night time. The smell of fire and laughter tell you that you are safe, wherever you are. Those might very well be the first laughs this forest has ever heard. Your eyelids feel too heavy to open, so you remain silent, listening to the voices of the people you know. But it’s only so long until you feel the need to stir awake. The sounds you make alert someone; in just a few seconds, they’re already on you, steadying you against the tree bark. “It’s okay, I am here” she says, and even if you can’t see her, you recognize her voice and her smell. She gently guides you awake and you open your eyes to find her disheveled; her hair out of her ponytails and dirt on her face. In this moment, you find her breathtakingly beautiful. “L-Lottie?” your eyes feel sealed and your throat raw.

“Where… where are we?” what the fuck happened? She answers truthfully, “I don’t know”, tears of terror and tiredness threatening to spill. “What happened?” you can vaguely feel a slight itching on your left, but your head is too heavy and you can’t move your neck. You feel the constant need to move your limbs, to extinguish the adrenaline that is running through your body. The young woman struggles to place your trembling body next to hers,“We crashed. The plane fell” she says, finally managing to keep you in place, your head nestled in the crook of her neck. “Is…everyone ok?” Lottie looks back into the darkness of the forest, where she knows the bodies of the team are lying lifeless. If she were to tell you the truth right now, she’d only make the situation worse. So, she tells you a white lie; “Most of us are okay” but knows you won’t believe her. 

Minutes go by without you nor her talking, just baskin in each other's presence. The crackling of the fire lulls you, sleep coming to you fast. “I am tired Lottie” you are. You are so, so tired. “I know. Just sleep; I’ll be at your side” as soon as she says those words, you fall asleep, snoring right above her shoulder. If the direness of the situation would have allowed it, Lottie would say that you look pretty darn cute snuggled on her. 

She can only hope that everything will be resolved for the better. 

“Beginning today's session”. “Is that necessary, doctor?” she asks, hoping that that woman would lose it already. She didn’t like to be recorded. “It is. We’ll stop using it once we know you are not a threat” as if she, of all people, could be a threat. 

Well, but if you are here, there must be a reason.

The woman clicks her pen and then meets her eyes; “Good afternoon, Charlotte”. 

She never liked her too much. Those condescending eyes of hers made her feel scrutinized. “Are you ready?”; Lottie would rather be anywhere else than here, but she had not been so lucky. "Absolutely". “So tell me, have your ‘visions’ gotten worse recently?” ‘visions’ is the worst word someone might use to describe the very real things she sees. “No, I could… control them” that is not completely untrue. Since she came back on the medication, they have been less and less frequent, but her mind had not been the same after what happened there. She still hears those things, sometimes, when the lights are out.

“I see. And have you had any nightmares or dreams? Anything?”; Lottie knew she would get asked this question. She feels somewhat ashamed to admit it, though. “I - I’ve dreamt of her again”

Her therapist seems to be exasperated at that answer, blowing air from her nose, but doesn’t show it. The pen flows quickly on the paper as she gets her notes down. “Alright. The important part is that you never let those dreams or hallucinations get to you; they aren’t real”. She knows her therapist only wants to help her; or well, she pays to help her, but annoyance pokes at her brain when she hears those words that have been repeated to her over and over again. “I know that. I don’t need to remember it” oh, how she wished those were real. Sometimes. But the nightmares? She could very much leave them be. 

There’s silence for a moment, neither of them really know what to say next. Lottie focuses on the tricks the morning light makes when filtering inside the room. “You must’ve loved her very much”. 

Lottie locks her gaze with yours. The room smells of burnt flesh and fire, your single eye looking at her, the other an empty socket of darkness. Years later, you never lost your beauty, even if half of you is rotting away. You press your finger on your lips, smiling like you did all those years ago. “I still do”. 

[venturelovebot]

Fluffcember Day Fourteen: Winter Soup

A/N: Prompt list is by @fluff-cember! Written in headcanon format. Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated but not necessary! Also, how are we already two weeks through December?!

Warnings: None! Pure fluff!

(Divider by @bernardsbendystraws who requested the tag!)

🎄 You add in the flour to your roux and stir until it thickens.

🕊️ Already, the smell of savory food fills the house with a warm and inviting scent.

🪽 Sloan was still on their way home, having travelled across the world once again for over a month.

⛄️ You missed them dearly– and, by all means, they missed you dearly, too.

❄️ So, what better gift to greet them with than some freshly made soup?

☕️ Especially because it's been getting colder out.

🍪 You toss in the spices and stir it into your mixture.

🎁 Next, the broth goes in.

💫 The base for your soup is more than ready.

🔔 You're only distracted by your now ringing phone, startling you out of your thoughts.

🎄 "You scared me." You sigh, placing the phone between your cheek and shoulder.

🕊️ "Sorry! I just wanted you to know I'll be a little bit late." They sound disappointed. "Not by much! I promise! The monorail is just delayed is all."

🪽 "That's alright, really!" You assure them. "Dinner will be ready by the time you're back."

⛄️ "Oooh! What're you making?" They perk up instantly at the promise of food.

❄️ "It's a surprise!" You tell them with a smile.

☕️ "Gah–! I can't wait!" They sound so excited, it's truly adorable.

🍪 You hear the overhead announcement for the train on their end.

🎁 "Oh–! I'll be right there! I promi–" They accidentally hang up in their fanatic state, and you can't help but laugh.

💫 Your attention turns back to the soup.

🔔 "Right, where was I?" You look at all the ingredients laid up on the kitchen countertop.

🎄 "Right! Pasta." You remember.

🕊️ The tortellini goes into the broth and you mix it a few times to incorporate them.

🪽 "Mushrooms."

⛄️ Stir, stir, stir.

❄️ "Parmesan."

☕️ You grate fresh Parmesan cheese above the soup pot and watch as it all melts into the mouthwatering concoction.

🍪 Finally, you add in some salt and pepper for extra flavor.

🎁 You keep the heat on low so it stays warm until your beloved gets home.

💫 Now, all you had to do was wait.

🔔 For how long, though?

🎄 At least the soup was done. Did you have any other plans that needed to be addressed?

🕊️ You cleaned the house up a little bit earlier.

🪽 You had an afternoon nap on the couch snuggled under a blanket.

⛄️ You even caught up on your favorite show, and the next episode isn't out until next week.

❄️ Hm. You aren't aware of how much time actually passes just wondering about what you could do to pass the time.

☕️ Your eyes glance around the room.

🍪 Suddenly– the door opens.

🎁 "Oh, thank God. You saved me from having nothing to do." You practically run to greet Sloan as they walk through the door.

💫 They laugh.

🔔 "Can't have you relaxing just yet!" They throw their arms around you and place a kiss to your lips.

🎄 They kick the door shut behind them. As soon as you pull away, they lock the door and pull off their boots, leaving them on the linoleum by the front entrance.

🕊️ "Oh! I smell something good!" They grin.

🪽 "It's still warm, I'll get you some." You walk off to the kitchen.

⛄️ You grab matching bowls from the cupboard and fill them up with your cooking.

❄️ They can hardly wait to try it– as soon as it hits the table top they're practically slurping it down as if they were starving.

☕️ "Didn't know they deprived you of food during field work." You playfully remark, slowly spooning mushrooms and tortellini into your mouth.

🍪 "You have no idea! I haven't eaten in weeks!" They joke between mouthfuls of food.

🎁 "Go get some more, then. Can't have my baby losing weight!" You pinch their stomach lightly, and they giggle as a result.

💫 The two of you continue your meals in comfortable silence.

🔔 Although, by the time they're done, there's nothing left.

🎄 They drained the pot of every last drop.

🕊️ "Full?" You poke their tummy again.

🪽 "Ugh–" They lean back in the dining room chair. "Yes!"

⛄️ You ruffle their espresso colored curls atop their adorable head.

❄️ "Go lay down on the couch, I'll clean up and then we can cuddle." You tell them.

☕️ They happily oblige.

🍪 And, true to your word, you're quick to do the dishes and join them in the living room for some evening snuggles.

🎁 Only to find them already asleep, happily snoring away.

💫 You carefully place the blanket over their body and let them snooze.

🔔 After all, they deserve it for being so cute.

[jimmywilsonschutzpah]

In the episode don’t ever change, why do you think house changed his mind about amber and okayed Wilson’s relationship with her?

Hi anon, I’m so sorry for the delay in getting back to you! I don’t usually get asks and I didn’t see your message.

Ok, so. The theme of the episode is that people are capable of change. House repeats over and over again throughout the episode that no one changes, but the ep points out that he, Wilson and Amber changed (and so did the patient). House accepts Wilson’s partner, Wilson is suddenly attracted to a woman who is self-assured (and not needy) and Amber is no longer necessarily putting herself first.

I think House accepts Amber due to the fact that he respects her and that he deeply sympathizes with what she says: that her whole life she had to chose between love or respect, and she always chose respect. With Wilson, for the first time, she gets to have both. And that this combo is worth more than a fellowship or a job. House gives her a stunned look at that, and I think he realizes he is the same and that Wilson is also the only person capable of giving him both love and respect. And we know House is the same: at the end of all things, when he is about to lose Wilson, House did give up his job and career for Wilson’s love and respect. Back to the scene: when Amber is about to leave the office House says “You’ve changed” with a knowing smile and Amber replies “I hope so”, telling us that she did change and that House’s screaming at the top of his lungs that no one changes is a lie. She did change, for Wilson. House understands that and respects it (and he respects her as a doctor too, as he says she had a good guess about the patient’s diagnosis). So he finally accepts her as Wilson’s partner and part of Wilson’s life (and a part of House’s life by proxy).

My personal headcanon tho? The episode also has to do with House 100% admitting to himself he loves Wilson in a romantic and sexual way too. The C plot (or D plot, I’m not sure anymore) is about how both Foreman and House clock Thirteen as bisexual. In my headcanon that’s about two established characters who are queer (in my headcanon) nodding to Thirteen in a “I see you” way. While House might have been in love or attracted to Wilson before, or maybe even acted on it in a friends with benefits way or however else, this is the episode to me where House changes and in his own head logically accepts what he truly feels for Wilson. It is also the episode where House says he doesn’t do self-sacrifice, and we know he does exactly that for Wilson at the end of this season, and at the end of the series as well. So to me he also accepts Amber because he likes the idea that Wilson is with a proxy for himself—Mr ‘So Far In The Closet I’m Shaking Mr Tumnus’ Hand’ Wilson can’t be with House, but at least he chose a House proxy, and showed he is capable of change in chosing a romantic partner who is like House. I hope this also makes it clear why I love the House/Wilson/Amber ot3 so much. The three of them have such deep respect for each other (even if they bicker all the time), and I do think House would also be capable of giving Amber love and respect (and Amber would also be capable of the same), as they all so deeply crave.

Sorry this is so long, nonny, but I hope it made sense. Thanks for the ask!

[yours-the-author]

...And by a day or two I mean like five.

Sorry for the delay, everyone! First I had work and assignments to do, then I had to spend a whole day drawing the base sketches for each picture, then I had to color them but my phone started dying so I had to do it in two days instead of one... I feel like I always overestimate or underestimate how long things like this will take; there is never an in-between.

Anyway, as you may or may not know, @lumyious-studios came up with a lovely little idea (original post here and post further exploring the concept here), and the moment I saw it, I knew I had to draw something. This isn't a full concept or anything (I don't have the brain energy to make a whole AU out of this), but I've got some fun little bits and bobs to show off, so enough waiting around! Let's set the scene!

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.

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The shadow monsters appeared suddenly, quietly, as if they had always been there. A planet already struggling with violence and theft was at the mercy of a darkness that spread mischief and tragedy wherever love was felt. The world prayed for a savior, but nobody came. So the world kept turning, for what else was there to do?

Much time passed, and the world eventually found a new sense of normalcy. People's lives continued on around the dangerous shadows, including the lives of the Toppat Clan as they scoured the world for treasures and valuables to expand their power and influence.

Then, one fateful day, in an inconspicuous lot of dying grass that was rumored to hide a great treasure, the world changed forever...

Desperate to save his chief, the Right Hand Man of the Toppat Clan reached for what he hoped was an impromptu weapon to fight off the darkness.

And one

*MAGICAL TRANSFORMATION SEQUENCE THAT LOOKED REALLY COOL AND EPIC TRUST ME YOU GUYS*

later...

RIGHT HAND MAGICAL GIRL was born!

As unexpected as this sudden transformation was, Right Hand Magical Girl quickly got to work.

And that's the first half of the episode!

The second half introduces the staple of every magical girl anime/manga ever: the adorable and definitely not dubious magical companion that leads the hero to the right path!

And just as quickly as it was introduced, the adorable and definitely not dubious magical companion was gone forever...

...Or was it?

As uncertain as the chief of the Toppat Clan was about his Right Hand Man's magical new side gig, he quickly came around to the misadventures that followed.

...Too quickly, actually...

Aaand, SCENE!

Obviously, a magical girl dress should be drawn in complete detail with all the frills and ribbons to match... unfortunately stick figures- despite the name- do not actually have good figures. So I ended up creating a slightly thinner version of Mayor Fredrickson as the base for the full image of Right Hand Magical Girl. It took a lot of time to get the body down just right (and don't even get me started on those hands), but I think it looks pretty okay!

You may be able to tell, but a big influence for this outfit was the Magical Dress from Animal Crossing: New Horizons (I tried to add a link to a picture but Tumblr Did Not Like That), but I also drew inspiration from Sailor Moon and whatever Google Images pulled up. The shoes were also fun; I decided to add some fun little ankle flaps that pop outwards and I like it a lot! I also settled on giving Right Hand Magical Girl silver slippers as a homage to the original version of The Wizard of Oz, which was switched to ruby slippers in the movie since color TV was new and silver wouldn't look as fun. Here though, silver is a better match for purple.

Speaking of purple, you might be asking: why he ourple tho? I thought about doing pink, or a variety of colors, or even mint green, but given that Right Hand Man's official Among Us color is purple, I figured it'd be good to stick with a classic look. And he works it, if I may toot my own horn for a bit.

The shadow monsters feed on love, so since Right Hand Man and Reginald are... you know... they get attacked pretty frequently. Right still has his hands full protecting his chief, there's just some magical stuff added on now.

Hmm, that adorably dubious magical creature we got rid of in the first episode looks all shadowy when it gets splatted... maybe it's actually the real leader of the shadows, a miniature god of chaos and hate that plays this game over and over again on every planet it finds, picking some random sap to be the "hero" that eventually gets defeated in the end? If it is, I can't imagine it's too happy that Right Hand Magical Girl isn't playing by the rules... Right had better watch his back (or the back of who he most desires...)

Okay, done, boom, happy birthday, peace and love in the world despite everything! I hope this little thing I made brought a smile to your face, or at least made you exhale sharply out of your nose in amusement.

Stay safe, ya'll. I'll see you this Monday for the next update of Liminal Love!

[jq37]

You know what, Aabria's not allowed battle maps anymore. She nasty. She does nasty things on battle maps and she can't be trusted to not be nasty when using them. Shame on her. On to less nasty parts of the episode, the very funny obsession with the invention of hats reminded me of the Taco Quest from Taz Balance and that was very fun for me. I hope the upcoming murder of all the leaders of Last Bast doesn't get in the way of Tula slamming down Bennet big style.

Oh man between school, my game coming out Thursday, and work I have been so busy this week. Sorry for the delay in answering but I wanted to make sure I answered this before the new episode tomorrow! Let's run through these real quick:

(1) Every season Aabria is on D20--as player or as a DM--she comes into the dome with a mission and clearly, this go around, that mission was push the practical effects to the LIMIT. She really said, "Theater of the Mind has protected you for too long," and came out SWINGING. There was a whole ass tile puzzle! Which, is an insane thing to exist in the world diegetically btw and I'm glad they addressed that on the AP lol.

(2) Yay for the players achieving their nonsense, self-imposed hat side quest. That's one of the best parts of D&D!

(3) In The Seven, Brennan created a hot NPC that Aabira's character was into but at the end of the day couldn't be with because (spoiler alert) he was working for the bad guys and Aabria said, and I quote, “Who could have known the cop was a cop." Now, Bennet isn't a cop, but he is a lieutenant at this super shady compound and turnabout would absolutely be fair play. But I do hope Bennet ultimately has a good head on his shoulders and doesn't betray the party in some way because Tula is so tired. She deserves this W. Aabria please. Let her have this.