#that way a year from now i can look and see if i've accomplished what i wanted to

[icewindandboringhorror]

just a few little bits from the past few days

[dragonsongmakhali]

The 2023 retro has been completed, so let's get to the 2024 kickoff!

Things I'm working on this year below the cut! This is mainly a tool for me to keep track of what I want to accomplish this year, but if I post it, then I've also got some form of accountability built in.

Storytelling in posework - what it says on the tin. My stuff is entirely 'moment in time' based, which can make some really cool action shots, but definitely also contributes to the feeling where Makhali is a deserted theme park - the colors and action are all baked into the design, but it's empty because there's no actual life in it. I think if I make myself think more in sequences of events, it will make her story more real to me.

Color theory - I've never really put much thought into the color palettes my shots get outside of very general vibe feelings. I would like to dive more into why certain colors fit certain moods, and I would also just like to play with palettes in general. Maybe find a preset that isn't Cyane Prism (or my other favorite, Cyane Prism With Some Sliders Jiggled For My Purposes, but that's a mouthful so I just say the first part).

Live multi-actor shots - I've done a few of these, and they're always a challenge. I'm fairly good at setting these up async, but I had a lot of difficulty when I tried to do it live with two friends of mine - there's just not enough time in explorer mode to set up three poses AND get good angles on them AND get good lighting for all actors AND find a preset that fits. I'd like to find a workable solution for this because it's the primary blocker for why I haven't gone to or organized any gpose meetups.

Gifs - this is easily a bonus item. I'll get to it if I feel my other objectives have been met or at least are proceeding at an acceptable pace. Once the images start moving, I call wizardry and hide in the cupboard. Maybe I can stop doing that.

As an overhang to all of this, I'm trying to be more outgoing and more present in the xiv community, and although that's not art-specific, it's something I hope will be noticeable this year.

Alright! That's it! Happy 2024 Y'all!

[mistydeyes]

a surprise house guest

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summary: The last thing Gaz expected to see in your shared flat was a baby in your arms and a mess in the kitchen, what have you gotten yourself into?

pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!roommate!reader

warnings: swearing

a/n: hehe gaz roommate babysitting fluff! sidenote i've been babysitting and ngl kids are lil cuties like ahh

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Gaz's relaxed and warm morning in his mountain of blankets was soon interrupted by the loud clanging around in your shared kitchen. He groaned as he tousled his messy hair and tried to look for his phone. "Jesus, 7 am, really Y/N?" he muttered as the bright screen of his phone lit up the room. He wondered what trouble you had gotten into while he was away.

You had been his roommate for about a year now but it felt even shorter due to him consistently being called away on duty and your busy work schedule. You were friendly, sure, and on occasion a bit flirtatious but at the end of the day, you were just another facet of his life. You were just someone to collect the mail, take care of the dust, and occasionally make sure his room wasn't crawling with bugs. You had somehow managed to accomplish such while doing it so attractively. Wait what was he saying, you were his roommate after all. Just a young professional needing a place and not caring about his infrequent stays. But on the other hand, you were his age and he always had suspected you might fancy him when you joked about sharing a one-bedroom apartment for "the benefits." His thoughts were interrupted by a loud "FUCK" and crashing emanating from the hallway. He hurriedly ripped off the sheets and ran down the hall to assess what was going on.

The last thing he expected was to see you, baby bottle in hand, and a baby on your hip. "Jesus!" you jumped as he emerged into the kitchen, "when the hell did you get home?" He relaxed, seeing that the kitchen wasn't on fire and you weren't fighting some early morning burglar. "Last night," he replied before returning to looking at the baby. He looked at it as if it was an alien, "was I really gone that long?" he asked almost afraid to hear the response. It took you a minute to process his question but you quickly covered your mouth to stifle a laugh. "Oh my god, no, no, he isn't mine," you said through laughs that made your sides hurt. "my kid sister dropped him off this morning. I agreed to help out and look after him for the day." With that, the baby cooed and tried to reach to hold your hand as you relented and looked back at Gaz. "I would have definitely cleared this with you, but I didn't expect you back so early," you sighed as you tried to calm the small bundle trying to put your fingers in his mouth. You took a brief look around the kitchen and noticed how much of a mess you had caused trying to prepare some milk, "I promise I'll clean up once I've set him down."

"No worries," he replied as he made his way into the kitchen to make some coffee, "I was gonna say you look a little too good to have just given birth." You felt your face flush and before you could reply or even give him an introduction to your nephew, the bottle of formula was knocked out of your hands. "Oh for the love of God," you swore as you realized your tank top and pajama shorts were now stained with milk. Gaz couldn't help but laugh as he looked at you in such a state, it was clear you hadn't had time to get ready for the day as he took a good look at you. "Not funny, little man," you chided the baby before you looked at Gaz with a smirk. Before he could protest, you guided the baby into his arms and ran to your bedroom to get changed.

"Bloody hell, Y/N," he yelled after you, "what am I supposed to do?" "It's a baby, Kyle, I think you can handle it," you said through your partially opened door. He heard a few more clangs as you struggled to find something not soaked in milk. He looked back down to the bundle in his arms, "What's your name, little one?" He heard you laugh as you continued to rummage around. "Kyle for fucksake he's an infant, he can't talk," you shouted, "his name is Ben if you were wondering." Ben cooed at the sound of your voice and squirmed in Gaz's arms. "It's okay buddy, she'll be back in a moment," he tried to reassure him as he rocked his arms back and forth. The baby grew more impatient and began to let out a song of high-pitched cries. You emerged from the room, now in a different pair of shorts and a shirt. Without a second look, you rushed into the kitchen and began to clean up. "Take him to the living room," you said, exasperated, as Ben continued to wail. "You owe me one," Gaz called out and you could hear him trying to appease the now crying baby. You shook your head before going about tackling the mess in the kitchen. Once you finally finished and dried your hands on the hand towel, it was quiet except for some babbles from Ben.

"What do we have here?" you said as you walked up to the pair settled on the couch. Both turned to you, smiling like a pair of twins. You had to say Gaz looked rather handsome as the light streamed in from the window in your flat. An unshaven 5 o'clock shadow complimented his face nicely. "I got it handled," he said cockily as you sat on the couch next to him. "Sure you do," you replied and mocked his tone, your legs brushing against his as sat. You soon realized that the reason Ben had stopped crying was that he was now occupied by a small sealed bag of crisps. He was shaking it around proudly and slobbering all over the plastic. You turned your head to look at Gaz with a deadpan expression. "What?" he said defensively, "he likes it!" You let out a laugh as you crumbled back onto the couch and watched as Gaz held the baby on his lap. You couldn't deny, that once he got Ben to stop crying, he was a natural at this. You secretly envied the future, Mrs. Garrick. However, with Gaz's protective arm around the baby and you smiling right next to him, you looked like the perfect couple with a newborn. The moment quickly passed as you looked down at your hand. "Oh I have his bottle," you said and motioned for Gaz to pass you the baby. "Come here, love," you cooed and slowly rocked him in your arms. You set your feet on top of Gaz's lap and sang a soft little lullaby to calm the infant.

After watching the baby drink the formula at record speed, he was finally asleep in your arms. "Finally," you groaned as you watched his little eyelids flutter. You leaned back in the crook of the couch, making sure he was fast asleep before you looked back at Gaz. He had a sense of wonder and awe in his eyes as he looked up at you. You slowly moved Ben into the small lounger cushion your sister had brought and stretched out of exhaustion. "Thanks again," you whispered as you motioned for Gaz to follow you back to the kitchen, "I really appreciate it." He nodded in response and leaned against the counter, closing his eyes in a moment of peace. You stood next to him and placed your head against his arm. You could feel him slightly react to your action but soon relax as he looked down at you. To both of you, it felt oddly comfortable to be like this. "Welcome home, by the way," you said, finally acknowledging his return "Sorry about this whole mess." He smiled as you met eyes and then let out a low chuckle. "It's alright, I got caught up in watching you play Mummy today," he joked, slightly tussling your hair with his free hand. You blushed briefly at the compliment but you soon found yourself wrestling his arm to stop. You ended up placing it securely around your shoulders and held it in place to prevent any further assault.

"I'm serious," Gaz defended as he relaxed his confined arm, "you look like a natural with him. You looked up at him and decided to test the waters, just a tiny bit. "Oh really now?" you challenged, "something about this situation gives you baby fever?" Now Gaz was the one with a subtle blush on his cheeks as you smirked at his reaction. "Let's go on a date then, love, and find out," he blurted, seemingly without any hesitation. You tensed a bit as you processed what he was saying. "You asking me out now, Garrick?" you questioned, turning your body to look at him. "Maybe I am," he whispered, moving a piece of hair out of your face and moving his hand to cup your face. As time moved slowly, you stood on your tippy toes and moved closer to his lips. Just as the space was about to close, a shrieking cry filled the apartment. "I think he wants Daddy," you teased as you tried to hide your disappointment, "we'll talk about this after dinner?" As Kyle huffed away, you couldn't help but secretly thank your sister for the emergency nanny service.

[sturniqlo]

GRAMMYS- CHRIS STURN

summary: chris is singer!y/n plus one to the grammys, he can't help but be proud of her and her accomplishments.

cw: mild cursing, FLUFF

an: olivia rodrigo will be the fc for this but feel free to imagine who ever you'd like! also, i just love social media fics so much, this is also a social media fic!! it's a long one and it's officially my favorite thing i've ever written!!

masterlist

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Following the release of her second album. Y/n has been nominated for three awards at this years Grammys. She's been nominated for the following categories; Best Pop Album, Record of the Year, and Song of the Year. When Y/n had found out she was nominated for three Grammys she was over the moon. "Holy shit, Chris!" With Chris next to her, on their daily walk, they jumped up and down, Chris picked her up and spun her around and kissed her face. "I'm so proud of you!" Later that night, Y/n and the triplets went out for dinner to celebrate her nominations.

christophersturniolo just uploaded to their story. (left)

y/n just uploaded to their story. (right)

Two years ago, she had won two Grammys for her debut album, one for Music Video of the Year, and Best New Artist. Unfortunately, Chris and her were only friends at the time so her plus one was her mom, which she was still excited to share that special moment with her, but Chris was happily watching at home with his brothers and other friends cheering her on. Luckily, this time Y/n asked Chris to be her plus one to this years Grammys. "Of course I will!" He said giddily. Later that week, Y/n's manager had called her and told her she was invited to perform. "Are you serious? I- yea!" When she hung up and squealed and ran to Chris who was brushing his teeth. "Chris, you'll never guess what happened!"

It was the night before the Grammys and Y/n's team booked her and Chris a hotel room close to the arena where the Grammys were going to be held. "Do you want to go out for dinner, baby?" Chris rubbed Y/n's shoulders as she laid on his chest, controller in hand flipping through the channels on the tv. "Please, I'm starving." She turned off the television and threw the controller somewhere on the bed.

Y/n cuddled Chris, moving on top of him to bury her face into his neck, placing a few light kisses along his skin. "You nervous for tomorrow?" She asked, lifting her head off to look at him. "No, I don't see a reason to be nervous." He giggled. "Just don't pick your nose, or do anything that will make you feel embarrassed on live, national television." She teased him. Y/n felt him tense under her. "Baby, you can say that. Now I'm starting to overthink." He whined. "I'm kidding" She laughed into his neck. "Come on, let's go to dinner." She patted his chest as she got off of him and made her way to the bathroom.

At dinner, a couple of fans went up to both Y/n and Chris. They took a picture with each one and then one together with both of them. There was also a paparazzi outside the restaurant they were at. Luckily, he was a nice guy just trying to do his job, unlike other paps they've ran into in the past who asked invasive questions, harassed them when they wouldn't stop to pose for them, and pushed them to get a picture. They stopped and had a small conversation with him, and even offered him dinner which he kindly declined.

Y/n and Chris took a stroll around downtown, surprisingly the streets were pretty empty and they could enjoy a nice walk together before a hectic day. "I've never seen LA so empty before." Chris said, swinging their intertwined hands back and forth. "I was about to say that." She looked at him with a smile. Y/n loved intimate moments like these, just the two of them with no interruptions. "You're so pretty." Chris stopped and grabbed both of her hands and brought them to his chest.

"Chris." She whines, trying to hide her face in his chest. "Don't hide from me, let me see you." He lets go of her hands to gently grab her face. Face to face, she's beat red. As much as she loved the compliments he never failed to make her blush and same with him. "See, look at you. So beautiful. Can't wait to see you all dolled up tomorrow. Walking down the red carpet. Going up on the stage to perform, to win all three Grammys." He planted a kiss on her lips. Y/n couldn't stop smiling that she cheeks hurt. "Baby, you don't know if I'll even win or not." Chris hated when she doubted herself especially when it came to her music. "I know you will. Tell me, have I ever been wrong about any other award ceremony?" Every award show Y/n has even been invited to, she always won every category she was nominated for. She shook her head.

"Exactly, this time is no different. By this time tomorrow night, I'll be able to tell the world that my girlfriend is a five time grammy award winner."

Going back to their hotel, Y/n was skipping down the streets as Chris jogged lightly behind her giggling like high school teenagers hanging out for the first time. Chris stops jogging, and pulls his phone out to capture a picture of her. "Babe, look!" He says to her. As she turns to him, he takes picture. "Let me see!" She skips to him as he goes to the picture. "Send that to me!" She gasps.

christophersturniolo just uploaded to their story. (left)

y/n just uploaded to their story. (right)

The next morning, Y/n's alarm blared at the crack of dawn. "Turn it off." Chris mumbled his morning voice making an appearance. He rolls closer to her and tucks his face into Y/n's neck who is sleepily trying to reach for her phone to turn it off. "I'm trying." She yawns, finally grabbing her phone and shutting off the alarm. "What time is it?" Chris picks his head up and yawns, running a hand through his messy hair. "six thirty." She says, throwing her phone next to her and wrapping her arm around Chris' bare torso. "Ughh!" He groans. Y/n stifles a laugh. "I don't think I've ever been up this early since the Billboard Awards." He leans his head on hers.

"Stop being dramatic." She giggles. After few minutes pass and Chris is slowly dozing off before he feels Y/n get off the bed. "Where are you going?" He asks, shielding his eyes from the bright sun that is entering the room. "The bathroom." She slips her slippers on and stretches. "Can you bring me a robe? I want to wear it. Wait, nevermind I'll go with you." He grunts as he gets up and walks towards the door where Y/n is waiting. Exiting the bedroom, they walk through the living area, the room being lit with sunlight, considering that they're in a high rise and there's no blinds in that area. "Woah! If I wasn't awake before I am now."

They take turns using the toilet, trying to wake up fully as they waited for one another. "Do you want a robe?" Chris asks, as he ties the robe closed. Y/n nods. "Why not?" He hands the last one to her and she slips it on, feeling the soft material on the parts her sport bra and sleeping shorts don't cover. "Soft, isn't it?" He hugs himself. "It really is." She does the same. They look at each other and laugh. As routine, they brush their teeth together and Chris takes his phone and hands it to her so she can take a picture.

"Room service?" Y/n asks Chris as they sit on the dining table provided for them. "Yes, let me get the menu." Chris gets up and runs to where he saw the menus earlier. "I'll have whatever you get." He tells her. Y/n picks up the phone and dials the room service number. Chris stares at her, blurring out her voice as he just stares. When she finishes, Chris realizes something and gasps. "What?!" Y/n gets startled. "We haven't kissed at all this morning." He says. "I thought it was something serious!" She gentry swats his robe covered arm.

"This is serious! Come here." He grabs her chin and kisses her.

A knock at the door breaks their small conversation of what today will look like. "I'll get it." Chris gets up placing a kiss on her cheek before going to the door. "Hello, good morning!" Y/n hears Chris greet whoever is at the door. "I can take it from here, thank you so much. Enjoy your day." Chris comes back in the room with a tray full of food. "Breakfast is here." He carefully places the tray down. All four plates are covered with a cloche. Chris places two in front of her and uncovers them. "Ta-da!" He says, Y/n giggles. "Thank you, Chris." She leans over to grab utensils and syrup for her waffles. "Im assuming I got the same." Y/n nods at him as she digs in her food.

"What time is everyone getting here?" Chris questions. "Rudy is coming here at nine to pick us up for sound check. And then we're coming back here at around eleven. My stylist, hairstylist, makeup artist, and photographer are getting here at twelve so we can both start getting ready."

christophersturniolo just uploaded to their story. (left)

y/n just uploaded to their story. (right)

At soundcheck, Y/n and Chris spotted all of the other artists who were performing. And they were starstruck to say the least. They saw Harry Styles, which Y/n was over the moon for although she had met him a few times and needed a minute after those interactions, Billie Eilish also sound checked and both of them took a picture sneakily and sent it to the group chat with Matt and Nick. At home Nick was going crazy. They also saw H.E.R, Jack Harlow, and Lil Nas X.

"Alright, Y/n, you're up!" Her manager, Rudy, stood up to walk her backstage so she can get mic'd up. "I'll be back." Y/n kissed Chris as she walked away. He waited patiently, excited to know what songs she was going to since. She hadn't told him yet, but all he knew is she was going to sing a mashup of two songs. He stared at the stage, seeing her band members tuning up their instruments and playing a light beat. "Guitar needs to be turned up a bit." Someone working for the production yelled. As Sage, her guitarist kept playing a light strum he heard it get louder. "That's good!" They did that with the rest of the band and their instruments.

Finally, Y/n came out on the stage and waved at Chris. "Ready?" The same guy spoke to Y/n through around mic. "Ready!" She held up a thumbs up. "Alright test the mic." Y/n cleared her throat. "Testing one two three, three, two, one." She spoke, her voice could now be heard throughout the arena. "Turn it up just a tad more." The same man spoke. "Keep going." He said to Y/n. Repeating the same words her voice got louder. "Perfect! Now, let's hear her and the band together. Band, whenever you're ready."

The band started to play a light melody Chris soon realized what the song was, Invisible String, which was one of his favorite songs by her. It was about their relationship, and how they had certain moments in their lives that connected them to one another. Y/n, who grew up in New York had family in Massachusetts where Chris was specifically from and she would frequently visit them. Her career had just started at the age of sixteen so she would get stopped by a few people in his small town. However, years later they realized just how often they were face to face at the frozen yogurt shop Chris worked at. Eventually, they met again in LA at a movie premiere.

Before she got halfway through the song, the beat changed and turned into a new song. Pov, which was also about him and was her most popular song from her new album which was also nominated for both Record of the Year and Song of the Year. After soundcheck, they stopped by a spot to pick up a quick lunch to eat back at their hotel. They had a good half hour to eat until everyone would arrive. Y/n, Chris, and Rudy all ate their lunch and had a fun conversation about certain conspiracy theories.

Forty minutes later, their hotel room was full of people running back and forth from Y/n. Chris was first to get ready since he didn't need much. He just got his hair styled and his clothes fitted. He was memorized by Y/n, she would occasionally glance at him and wink making him giddy.

christophersturniolo just uploaded to their story.(both)

"I'm nervous!" Y/n places her gloved hand on Chris' bouncing knee. "Why? It's just like any other award show." Chris looks at her. "It's the Grammys! And there's way more people watching plus we're sitting near the front and we'll be in the shots throughout the whole night. I'm going to embarrass myself." She regrets telling him what she did last night. "Baby, I was only kidding about what I said last night. You're not going to embarrass yourself, I promise. Okay?" She places a kiss on his cheek. "Okay, okay." The car comes to a halt and the driver up front tells them they have arrived.

"Ready to head out?" Chris nods. They get out and they are met with the red carpet, there's many artist walking on and stopping for pictures. "Hello, you must be Y/n and Christopher!" A lady in a suit speaks. "Hi, that's us." Y/n giggles, grabbing Chris' hand. "It's nice to meet you, let's get you two checked in! Follow me." They get checked in and get informed what time Y/n will be pulled out to get charged into her performance outfit. "Alright, you guys are ready for the carpet. I'm pretty sure your manager went over these things but you're free to ignore any questions you don't feel comfortable answering and also you can skip interviews but it's all up to you."

During the red carpet, they took pictures alone and together. Y/n decided that she did want to do interviews. "Here, let's do some interviews." She leaded Chris towards the interview section. "Y/n! Over here!" They both looked who called her and they're met with Liza Koshy. "Liza!" Y/n squealed. "Look at you, you're gorgeous!" Liza hugged her. "And you must be Chris, it's nice to meet you, I love watching your videos with your brothers." Chris thanked her.

"Can I interview you, Chris?" Chris froze. "Oh- uh, sure." Y/n smiles, watching Chris as he does his very first interview. "Excuse me, Y/n! Can we interview you for E!" A man dressed in a suit asks. "Of course!" During the interview, Chris walks behind and her and gets out of the shot. "He looks a bit nervous." The interviewer says. Y/n giggles, "He just had his first interview."

"You did great, babe!" Y/n tells Chris as they walk inside the arena to find their table. "You think so?" He asks. "I know so!" Soon, they find their table, remembering they saw their name cards on a table yesterday as they were setting them up. "Wait, look who's sitting there!" Y/! stops. "Who?" He's confused. "It's Harry!" Chris looks and it's enough there he is. "Holy shit! I'm going to be sitting next to him." Y/n gives him a stare. "Lucky, motherfucker."

"Hey, you be sitting next to the Christopher Sturniolo." He laughs. As they get to their table, they greet the people who have been hired to be sit ins at tables. "Hello!" A british voice says next to Chris. "Oh! Hello, I'm Chris!" He greets Harry. "You're Y/n's boyfriend, correct?" Chris nods. "I thought so, I saw you two here yesterday during soundcheck. She was amazing."

"Next up, please welcome grammy award winner and nominee, Y/n." Chris quickly stands up and starts recording on his phone. "Green was the color of the grass where I used to read at Centennial Park, I used to think I'd meet somebody there." Y/n's voice can be heard throughout the area. Chris can hear the crowd above in the seats singing along. "And isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some, invisible string, tying you to me?" Y/n looks over at Chris and points at him and then points at her.

She keeps singing the song for a couple more seconds before switching songs. "I wanna love me, the way that you love me." Chris doesn't notice but, a cameraman pans the camera to him and everyone watching at home got a scene of Chris smiling at her.

"You did great!" Chris tells Y/n as she returns back to her seat in her dress she had in before. "Thank you, I was so nervous!" Chris hugs Y/n. "I recorded the whole thing." He kisses her temple.

Minutes go by, performances go by and awards go by until it's time for Y/n's first category she is nominated in. "You got this, babe." He grabs her gloved hand and rubs his thumb over her knuckles. "And the Grammy for Best Pop Album goes to..." Dua Lipa says into the mic before opening the envelope. She sees who the winner is and nods her head smiling. "Y/n for her album Heart Beats" Y/n freezes in her seat and Chris jumps in his seat grabbing her hand and kissing it. "Babe, you won! Holy shit!" Seconds later, Y/n turns to Chris and they both get up. "Go up there, 'M so proud of you." He hugs her tightly rocking her side to side. "Oh my god, Chris." She grabs his face and kisses him quickly before walking up to get her award.

She hears one of her songs playing throughout the arena and covers her mouth. Soon she reaches the stairs carefully going up them. Dua Lipa meets her half way and gives her, her Grammy. "Congrats!" Dua pulls her into a hug. She stands to the side, and Y/n goes up to the mic, "Oh my- I- I want to start off by saying thank you to the recording academy for this award. I would also like to thank every single person who made this album possible, from the producers to my band and the person who inspired this whole album." She looks over at Chris who is recording but his head is turned away from his phone, looking directly at her and they both blush. "And I want to take a moment to thanks my fans, my supporters, my listeners this," She holds up the Grammy. "wouldn't be possible without you guys or your support. Thank you so so much! Lastly, thank you to my family, my friends, and my boyfriend for always believing in me and showing me endless love and support. I love you guys. Thank you!" She holds up her Grammy, before walking away backstage.

Her manager, Rudy, is waiting for her backstage. "Congrats, kid! Only two more to go!" He gives her a side hug and grabs the Grammy for her to put it in a safe spot before she goes back to sit down. "You did amazing!" Chris wraps his left arm around her and rubs her shoulder. "I was so nervous, sorry if I kept weird eye contact with you." She leans her head on his shoulder. "Only two more to go!" Suddenly and ring covered fist appears in front of Y/n. She realizes the familiar cross tattoo and lifts her head off Chris' shoulder. "Congrats, Y/n" She bumps Harry Styles' fist. "Thank you so much, Harry!" All three of them keep a conversation going until it's time for that last four awards. Y/n was surprised to hear that Chris and Harry had several conversations while she was up out of her seat. She even found out they took a picture together.

"And now, the winner for this year Song of the Year is..." Jared Leto opens the envelope. Chris, once again hold her hand. "Pov, by Y/n" Y/n throws her face into Chris' neck. The crowd erupts in claps and cheers. "Holy shit." She laughs. "You did it again! Song of the fucking Year!" Chris says, kissing her lips and getting up to hug her. She wipes her eye, and walks past Harry who pulls her into a hug. Walking up to the stage, she receives the Grammy from Jared and goes up to the mic. "Wow, hello again." She giggles. "Once again thank you to everyone in the recording academy for choosing me out of all of the other great artists. I'm incredibly grateful for even being here. I want to thank my producer, Fred, who helped me add some lyrics to this song. Thank you, Fred. ."

"I would like to dedicate this award to the person who inspired this whole song, and anything and everything I write, is my boyfriend Chris, without him I really wouldn't have been able to write this song. He is my muse, my best friend, my everything, he's really made me a better version of myself. I think I'd be lost without him. He also is truly one of my biggest supporters. Chris thank you for always being proud of me, for showing me what true love really is. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She smiles bowing a kiss in Chris' direction before walking off the stage.

By this time, Chris can't stop smiling, his cheeks are completely red from how much he's blushed and his eyes are glossed over from her heartwarming words. "I love you so so much." Is the first thing he said to her as she sat back down. "I love you more."

"Now, the grammy for Record of the Year goes to, this is a big one." Trevor Noah, the hosts says before opening the envelope. "Aha, Y/n! Pov!" Y/n gasps and turns to Chris. "My five time grammy winning girlfriend! You're amazing!" Chris engulfs her in a hug. "Chris, oh my god! This is actually insane." Y/n cant believe that she won all three grammys she was nominated for.

"This- this is absolutely insane. Wow," She blows air out. "I did some research when I got nominated for this grammy and found out this is for the best sounding song, which now blows my mind that I won. Thank you, recording academy. I also want to thank my producer once again, Fred, unfortunately he couldn't be here today. Also, thank you to the engineers and mixers, Jack, Travis, and Pat for their incredible support on the song. My band, Sage, Derick, Eve, Angel for playing the instruments on this song beautifully. And my mastering engineer Delaney. My team, everyone at Columbia Records. Just, thank you, to everyone who has ever and always supported me! Thank you so much! Goodnight!" She holds her Grammy up and walks away.

Back at the hotel, Y/n and Chris were exhausted to say the least. They decided to skip on the after parties and just stay huddled up in their room before they returned to their respective home the next morning. "I can't believe I won all three Grammys." She says as she wipes off her makeup sitting on the bed. "I told you, I'm never wrong when it comes to your awards." Chris grabs one of the three Grammys off the bed and reads the engraved words.

National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences

Y/n Y/l/n- Artist/Producer

Best Pop Album

"Now you can put these next to the other two you have on your bookshelf." He says grabbing all three carefully and placing them on the dresser that was provided. "Do you want to keep one?" Y/n says out of the blue. "What?" He says shocked. "Yeah, do you want the Song of the Year one? I like to call it your song. So it's your Song of the Year." She explains tossing the dirty makeup wipes in the small trash can near the bed. "But it's your Grammy." Chris says, walking over to her. "And it's your song." She adds on. "Are you sure?" Chris asks. "I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't." She smiles. "Okay, I'll take it and put it next to my Y/n shrine." They both laugh.

"Have I told you how much I'm proud of you?" Chris teases. "You've told me once or twice." She nods, smiling. "Well, that's not enough. I really am so proud of you. Like so much I can't put into words."

"Thank you, Chris. I love you."

extras!

[arc-misadventures]

Friends Au: How would Roblyn and the happy huntresses react to seeing the photos of Jaune's family?

The Rivalry Burns Brighter

Yang: Hahaha! Oh, gods I forgot he looked like such a huge dork!

Ruby: Yeah, he's really grown up. Loosing all that baby fat, and gaining a lot more muscles.

Yang: You better keep that to yourself. Otherwise, Winter will come after you.

Ruby: Yeah, she... Winter... Winter scares me...

: Do I now?

Ruby: AHHH?!

Yang: Oh?! H-Hi, Winter... W-We're just looking at old photos when we were back in, Beacon, and we were just laughing at how, Jaune used to look.

Winter: Laughing at, Jaune?

Ruby: Y-You know how he looks now, but I don't think you ever saw him when he was at, Beacon.

Winter: No, I've never seen him until recently; What did he look like?

Ruby: Well, uhh... h-here's a photo of him...

Winter took, Ruby's scroll looking at the more skinnier body of, Jaune from a few years ago.

Winter: Hmmm... He defiantly has a much more boyish face... A cute, rounder, child...ish... face...?

Winter zoomed on, Jaune's face, analyzing every aspect of his face where she noticed something interesting. She pulled out her scroll before sending the photo it to her scroll, before giving, Ruby's scroll back to her.

Winter: Thank you for sharing this with me, Ms. Rose. Now if you'll excuse me.

Winter swiftly made her way to leave, quickly leaving the two sisters alone.

Yang: ...

Ruby: ...

Ruby: I think we just did something bad...

Yang: But, what did we do...?

Ruby: I don't know...

Yang: Well doesn't that sound scary...

~~~

Inside the 'secret' headquarters of the, Happy Huntresses, Robyn Hill, and her companions were going over several plans that they needed to accomplish to ensure, Robyn's ascension to become a councilmember for, Mantle, and Atlas. But, this planning session was about to be brought to an abrupt end. One a scared sheep faunas was about to tell why.

Fiona: Uhhhh... R-Robyn...?

May: Fiona? You okay?

Joanna: You look a little pale.

Robyn: Is something wrong, Fiona?

Fiona: You have a visitor...

Robyn: Oh? And, who is it?

Fiona: It's... It's, Winter Schnee...

Robyn: Wi... Winter Schnee?!

May: Seriously?!

Joanna: What the hell is she doing here?!

Fiona: I-I don't know?! She just said she needs to talk with you alone!

Robyn: About what?!

Fiona: I don't know?!

Robyn: Okay, okay, okay... Relax everyone, let's play it cool... There's nothing to worry about.

Joanna: But, it's, Winter fucking Schnee?!

Robyn: I know that... but, I must not show fear in front of my rival.

MJF: Rival?

Robyn: For my, White Knight!

May: White knight?

Fiona: Jaune Arc.

JM: Ohhh!

Robyn: Silence! We must prepare for the demons arrival...

Joanna: Alright...

May: We're ready.

Robyn: Alright, Fiona. Let her in...

Fiona nodded her head as, May, and Joanna took a flanking position behind, Robyn stood proud in front.

Fiona opened the door, and told, Robyn she could enter. Soon, came in the high, and might, Winter Schnee. Her eyes fixed solely on, Robyn Hill, not care for the other members of the, Happy Huntresses, as if their mere presence meant nothing at all to her.

Winter: Hello. Robyn Hill, our meeting has been long overdo...

Robyn: Indeed it has been, Specialist Schnee.

Winter: ...

Robyn: ...

Winter: Before we begin, I just want you to know that this... meeting of ours has nothing to do with your past exploits of stopping, Atlas Military personnel, supplies, and equipment. If so, I would have dealt with you sooner if you mattered.

Robyn: If I didn't matter, then should I take it that, Mantle, and it's people don't matter either?

Winter: No, they do, and will always matter. But, you do not matter as much as them. You are, but a drop in a bucket.

Robyn: I'd be careful if I was you, even a single drop of water can start a tsunami.

Winter: Or, show you that you have a leaky bucket.

May: They're fighting right...?

Fiona: Over, Jaune, right?

Joanna: They should be... But, am I the only one who isn't picking up on a lot of hidden sexual tension?

Fiona: Everyone can!

May: You can practically taste it!

Fiona: It makes sense too. They're both fighting for the same guy, whoever beds him first wins!

Joanna: So... is this where the war begins...?

Winter: Now then. Robyn... as much as I would like to call you a lying cheating political whore...

Robyn: And, as much as I would call you a thieving dust slut...

Winter: I'm afraid we both have bigger foes to deal with when it comes to winning the heart of my Knight!

Robyn: I think you mean, my Knight.

Winter: Over my dead body you slut!

Robyn: Bring it whore!

WR: ...

Winter: Haa... enough... as much as I like to insult you, and prove why it is better if I became, Winter Schnee Arc!

Robyn: Robyn Hill Arc sounds better...

Winter: I'm afraid that we are both already losing to another woman.

Robyn: What?! What do you mean we're already losing?!

Winter: Let me show you this photo of, Jaune, and his family.

Winter plucked out a photo from under her coat, and handed it to, Robyn. She eyed it warningly for a moment before taking it, and inspect the imagine.

Robyn: This is a photo of, Jaune... and his family... with... Wait? Does, Jaune have eight sisters?!

Winter: Seven sisters, the one next to the man, in the back is, Jaune's father, and next to him, is, Jaune's mother.

Robyn: Oh... But, seven sisters...? That's a good sign of fertility...

Winter: A very good sign. Now then, here is another photo of, Jaune sisters, and his nephew.

Robyn: Nephew?

Winter pulled out another photo, and handed to, Robyn who took it. She saw a fair skinned blonde with blue eyes, the person, Robyn assumed was, Jaune sister, and a girl with dark skin, and red glasses holding a dark skinned baby in their hands.

Robyn: Who are the people in this photo?

Winter: The blonde, as you've probably already guessed, is, Jaune's sister, Saphron Cotta Arc, and the woman with the darker skin is, Terra Cotta Arc, Saphron's wife, and Jaune's sister-in-law. And, the child in the middle is, Adrian Cotta Arc, Jaune's nephew.

Robyn: Okay... he looks cute, what about him?

Winter: This is the last photo I wanted to show you; This is a photo of, Jaune when he was back in, Beacon. Before his... glow up~!

Robyn: Glow up?

Robyn took the photo, Winter offered, and inspected it. Jaune was much more lanky, and childish, no where near as charming, and attractive as he is now. But, he did have a nice, cute face that...

Robyn: Hold on...?

Robyn placed the photo of, 'Beacon Jaune,' next to the lesbian couple, and their child. Her eyes darting between the two photos before she raised her head, looking at, Winter with bloody fury in her eyes.

Robyn: Call, Jaune Arc down here... NOW...

~~~

Jaune walked into the, Happy Huntresses 'secret base,' and already his danger senses were blaring. He could see, Joanna, and May looking at him, fear was echoing in their eyes as they shied away from him.

His step hesitated for a bit before he walked up to, Fiona who was standing nervously in front of a door to, Robyn's 'office.'

Jaune: Uhh... Fiona... Is... is something going on?

Fiona: Oh well... something is going to happen... I don't know what exactly, but... well...?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I don't like that answer...

Fiona: I'm sorry... I can't help you with what's...?!

Robyn: Fiona is, Jaune here yet?!

Jaune, and Fiona visibly recoiled from the door as, Robyn screamed bloody hell through the door.

Fiona: Y-Yes...?

Robyn: Then tell him to get his ass in here! NOW!

Fiona: EEP!

Jaune looked at as she embraced the scared sheep persona. But, he gave her a reassuring shoulder pat before entering, Robyn's office.

As the door shut behind him, he saw, Robyn Hill standing next to her desk, while, Winter Schnee was standing on the other end. Robyn had her arms folded across her chest staring daggers at him, while Winter held her arms behind her back glaring down at, Jaune.

Jaune knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was in trouble, big trouble at that, and that these two warrior woman were furious with him for some reason. But, Jaune couldn't help but think that the pair looked damn hot while doing so.

Jaune: W-Well... It's nice to see you two finally meeting each other face to face... So, uhhh... w-what is this all about? Are you finally putting an end to this rivalry you two have imposed over me... C-Cause I want to end it myself, I just... I-I don't know who to pick... I mean you two are some of the most impressive, and beautiful woman I've ever met!

Jaune: I mean, Robyn... I admire your noble beauty, and courage to stand up for what you believe is right! That you're willing to put everything on the line for the people of, Mantle. I may be your white knight, but you will forever be my lady I've sworn to protect, and serve.

Jaune: And, Winter, I adore your elegant charm, and despite all that your father did, both directly, and indirectly to you, that you are standing strong, and proud throughout it all is inspiring. I am honoured to stand beside you as we fight to serve, and protect the people of, Atlas.

Jaune: I want to make my choice... I don't want to be an ass, and make you two feel like I'm stringing you along. But, I can't chose between either of you... I'm trying, but... I've never been so lucky to have two wonderful woman want me before. But, this time... I'm scared to choose, because if I only pick one of you, I'll lose the other... And, I can't handle the pain of losing someone I love again... notagain.

Jaune had dropped his head in shame as he lamented the cowardice of his heart, but as he brought his head up to stare at the two woman he was met with the sight of a pair of scarlet tinged faces. Winter was adverting her gaze as she was shuffling around nervously, while, Robyn had turned her face to look away from him, but, Jaune could tell she was blushing based on how her red her ears were.

Winter: While it's nice to know how you feel about the both of us... and, I can understand why you're having difficulty choosing one of us... I'll explain why to you later, Ms. Hill.

Robyn: T-Thank you... Specialist Schnee.

Winter: But, that's... that's not what we called you here for.

Jaune: Oh? Then what did you call me for?

Robyn: Well.. okay... so, Specialist Schnee showed me these photo's.

Robyn handed, Jaune the photos of his family, these photos gave, Jaune pause as he looked at, Winter with a distrustful look on his face.

Jaune: T-These were the photos in my locker? D-did you take these out of my locker?

Winter: No, I took a photo of them, and printed a copy.

Jaune: Oh... that's marginally better... but, what's with this third photo... Where did you get this, this was from when I was in, Beacon?

Winter: I acquired it from, Ruby Rose.

Jaune: She had a photo of me? Didn't know she had anything of me... But, what is this all of this about?

Winter: Well, I was looking at the photo of you, and your family... and, I noticed something... peculiar... I decided to take this photo to, Robyn Hill to ask if she also saw something in the photos...

Robyn: And, I did happen to find something most curious to see.

Jaune: Oh... w-what did you find...?

Winter took the photo of, Jaune back when he was in, Beacon, and the one with, Saphron, Terra, and Adrian in it, holding the next together.

Winter: Why does, your nephew look like you!

Jaune: Arc genetics...?

Robyn: It's obvious, Terra is the birth mother! Yet he looks like you!

Jaune: Most babies look the same, it doesn't mean he looks like me?!

Winter: Are you really, Adrian's uncle, or are you his father?!

Jaune: I am his uncle!

Robyn: Did you fuck your sister-in-law?!

Jaune: I did not?!

Winter: It's fucking RED!

During the shouting match, Robyn had grabbed, Jaune's shoulder, and started shaking him, involuntarily activating her semblance on him in the process. Jaune looked at the emanating red glow from, Robyn's hands before looking at the pair of woman looking at, Jaune demanding an answer with murderous intent if her refused to answer.

Jaune: O-O-Okay! I am, Adrian's biological father! Saphron, and Terra wanted to have a child, and they wanted them to be an, Arc, so they asked me to be the donner.

Winter: Why did they ask you, why couldn't they ask someone else to be the donner.

Jaune: It's either me, or my dad. Which would you prefer, Winter; your dad, or your brother to be the sperm donner?

Winter: ...

Winter: My brother...

Jaune: And, that's why they asked me.

Robyn: So you went to a clinic, and donated your sperm, and they artificially inseminated your sister-in-law?

Jaune: That... That was the plan... Terra had other ideas...

Robyn: Other ideas...?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I slept with her...

Robyn: You really did fuck your sister-in-law?!

Jaune: Hey, it's what we agreed to! They wanted a child, and they wanted me to be the donner! Yes, I slept with my sister, but she got the child she wanted, and everyone was happy!

Robyn: Then what, you dip out and never have a part of your child's life?

Jaune: If you're thinking that I'd go out for milk, and never return, then you'd be sorely mistaken. I am a part of my sons life, I am just not that involved with him. If he ever wants to learn about his father, we will tell him the truth; That I am his biological father.

Winter: And, that's the end of it with you, and your nephew, right?

Jaune: ...

Winter: That's the end of it with you, and your nephew, right...?

Jaune: Haa... Three months ago, back when I was staying with them in, Argus... I was in a more... darker place... A more... suicidal place...

Robyn: S-Suicidal?

Winter: Jaune lost a lot of people when, Beacon fell. He also lost the only person he could ever consider his friend... Jaune was thinking about taking his life... more in a sense of a heroic self sacrifice... but suicide nonetheless. He hasn't had such a mindset as of late though.

Robyn: Are you sure about that? The way he went after that scorpion fellow says otherwise.

Winter: That monster needed to be taken out with extreme prejudice. While I agree, Jaune's method was rather risky, it nonetheless eliminated a severe threat, and saved your life in the process.

Robyn: I understand... But still, don't go around risking your life like that!

Robyn poked, Jaune in his chest, even if she was poking his armour, it did feel like he was forcing her fingernail was stabbing him.

Jaune: Don't worry, I'm doing a lot better since then, especially since you two came into my life. I feel happy just knowing that I have the pair of woman such as yourselves in my life. But, there was also, Terra's threat... that helped in another way. But, it was mostly thanks to you two.

The pair were blushing faintly as, Jaune was sweet talking them into a blushing mess again just by being so nice to them. However, there was something they needed to be ask.

Winter: What threat are you talking about?

Jaune: Well, you see... the original plan was to never talk about who, Adrian's father was. But, Terra threatened me that she would tell, Adrian when he was older who his father was, and she wanted me to be alive so he would know. That was the first part of the threat...

Winter: First part.

Jaune: It was meant to be a secret between the two of us... But, Terra told, Saphron that I was, Adrian's father. Saphron wasn't as surprised, or as angry as I thought she would be. She had already expected that we didn't go to a sperm bank, she wasn't angry about that at all. Nor was she angry that... That, Terra wanted another kid... And, well... last i heard, Terra's about three months pregnant...

Winter: T-Three months pregnant?!

Robyn: You did it again?!

Jaune: It was all consensual!

Winter: But, you slept with your sister-in-law!

Robyn: And, impregnated her!

RW: Again!

Jaune: Yes, I impregnated my sister-in-law, twice! We've already established that already! Why are you freaking out about that so much?!

Winter: Cause, I wanted to have your child first...

Jaune: I uhh... what?

Robyn: I was going to have his first kid, not you, you bitch!

Winter: You want to go there, you whore?!

Robyn: Bring it you cunt!

Jaune: Excuse me?! You were interrogating me about my son, and now you're arguing about who should have had my first kid? Where the hell is all of this coming from?!

Winter: Ahh...?!

Robyn: Uhh...?!

Winter: Baby fever...?

Jaune: Why is that question?

Robyn: Yeah, baby fever... we saw the photo of your adorable son...

Winter: Absolutely adorable~!

Robyn: And, now we want your kids.

Winter: I want at least three.

Robyn: Ha! I'll go for four!

Winter: Five...

Robyn: Six...

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I love you, Adrian, but gods dammit, why do you gotta do your father dirty like this?

[youuuimeanmee]

This chapter might be the start of literally the biggest thing ever and I'm SCARED.

I have SHIVERS.

Almost every important characters are gathering in one place.

Our Eden kids are finally playing outside the school.

For a spy like Twillight, this festival is literally a treasure of intels.

(Though, I was surprised when Twillight mention that Glooman Pharmaceuticals has no further connection with the Desmonds. I thought it's gonna be involved in some kind of drugs' development for war, but ig I was wrong.)

Remember how Twillight always look down on Anya because she can't study, she's hard to teach, and she doesn't excell in any sport or any other talents (except classical language)?

Now look at them.

Twillight finally sees just how valuable Anya is. How much Anya, a presumably six-year-old, has accomplished in the span of 6 months. I repeat. 6. months.

He's pleased because it's really convenient for his mission.

And yet, look at what Jeff wished for the kids.

The irony. The sweet, sweet irony.

As much as it pains him to acknowledge how right Jeff's words are, he cannot. He cannot dwell into such sentiments, because he's a spy. A spy must seize every opportunity to gain any information neccesary for his mission. For the sake of his goal; a world peace. For that goal, he will do anything. Even if he has to use his "daughter" and his "wife" for his own convenience.

Because of that, the very least he could to them is protect their well-being and happiness.

Twillight has established that since long ago. But will things change after this arc? That is the big question.

Now we are entering, what I call, "the fortune teller arc." (until we get a better name imma stick to this one.)

Somehow, in every series I've read that has a fortune teller in it, it ended up changes (read: fucks up) the MC's life forever.

I've been predicting the involvement of Crowley in the future; from his name reference, his hairstyle, his excellence in Classical language, everything.

Look whose name Endo uses for the most popular fortune teller.

Heh.

(will Arnold Crowley appear in next chapter? Will he meet Anya in this arc?)

And look at the star of this chapter, who also plays as a fortune teller!

Melinda Desmond.

Who would've thought.

Suddenly, her earrings and ring's design make so much sense.

Is it safe to say now that Crowley and Melinda Desmond are occultists?

Or maybe just one of them?

I know jumping to conclusion is dangerous, but I just can't help it.

I still can't speak if Melinda and Crowley family are related to each other because there's no evidence of their relation (yet). But I can at least tell you this:

Melinda probably uses fortune telling as a way to collect informations. Her ad speaks for poor, desperate people. She doesn't charge her clients for a single cent. Even if she already claimed that her predictions are way off, it doesn't matter for desperate people. Desperate people will use desperate means. Poor people are not poor because they wanted to. There must be a reason, a circumstances; that intel is probably what Melinda aims to get.

Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe Melinda is genuinely a noble person, and she's just trying to help as many people as possible with her "free" fortune telling. Who knows.

Though, it is peculiar to note that Melinda only started recently. How recent, I wonder. Is it before, or after the dinner she had with Donovan, her husband?

Hmmm.

I'm also curious at Endo's reference for Melinda's alias: Lunaluna Selena. Luna, as in, Latin for [the moon]? Selena, as in, Selene [the Greek & Roman's moon goddess]?

The moon, huh. Remember how Anya's power is heavily reliant on the moon? Like, she lost her power when it's a new moon?

Hmmmmm.

TLDR; Anya confessed to Damian that she can read minds. Now Anya enters a fortune teller place. Twillight used to underestimate Anya's ability a lot. Now he sees how valuable she is, yet, he is stuck between his logic (wanting to utilize her to the max) and his heart (wanting to free her from the burden of his mission and let her be a happy normal kid). Melinda and Yor are friends. Now they meet again, when Melinda is doing her side hustle. Arnold Crowley is a kid who excels in Classical Language, and holds a great interest in Anya. Now we see that Crowley family runs a popular fortune-teller. Melinda just had an awful dinner with Donovan. Now we see that she recently run a fortune-telling stall for free. Almost all important characters in SxF are gathering in one place. All build-ups are seemingly leading towards this moment.

Let's give Endo some space & time to cook, shall we.

[kudossi]

Tigerclaw and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Senior Warrior Position AU

In a world where deputies can only be named after their first apprentice has been granted their warrior name, Tigerclaw struggles to keep an apprentice alive long enough to earn their name.

or, a comedy-tragedy AU in which having an apprentice isn't enough — you have to see them to their warrior name, and Tigerclaw cannot fucking get any of his goddamn apprentices to live, damn it.

—

It starts out mostly normally, except for the fact that Tigerclaw hasn't gotten any apprentices to their warrior name, and he needs that so he can accomplish his (very noble, of course) kitty genocide goals. And also be the supreme leader of the world or something. Darkpaw died stupidly, he hasn't had a chance since, and now he's got some tiny thing that's afraid of his own shadow.

Well. It'll have to do.

So naturally this man is so protective over Ravenpaw that Ravenpaw barely even leaves his sight. Firepaw and Graypaw think that this is adorable. Look how much Tigerclaw cares about his apprentice!!

Ravenpaw, of course, is fucking terrified and also slowly losing his mind, just in a different way.

—

"Redtail assigned us to go on a patrol to Snakerocks." "OH NO HE DID NOT. WE'RE STAYING IN THE SANDY HOLLOW WHERE IT'S SAFE."

"Nothing matters more to me than making you a warrior, Ravenpaw. Nothing." And the terrible thing is that Ravenpaw is sure he's being sincere.

—

Ravenpaw disappears and Tigerclaw nearly fucking has a conniption because the timing was all RIGHT and he was going to finally get the position AND HE NEVER GOT HIS DAMN NAME FUCK.

"Do you think I could convince the elders that Fireheart was my apprentice?" "Fireheart was Bluestar's apprentice, as approved by StarClan. You're going to have to wait for the next litter to be apprenticed."

So he begs and begs and gets Cinderpaw and then she accidentally falls into the trap he'd set for a better deputy candidate at the Thunderpath. Fuck.

—

Well. Time to resort to drastic measures.

"I was thinking that Darkstripe would have been a good name. Because he had dark stripes." "Again, Tigerclaw, it's admirable that you loved your apprentice so much, but I cannot grant him a name." "Are you sure?" "Honestly, Tigerclaw, I'm not sure he ever would have gotten a name. Missing quite a few feathers from his nest, that one..." Fuck. The worst part was that she wasn't even wrong.

— Swiftpaw and Brightpaw get mauled by the dogs he set up to happen like right after he got the title and they sprang it before and he's like FUCK NOW WHAT DO I DO WITH THESE DAMN DOGS? His world domination plans literally never come to fruition because he cannot keep his apprentices alive/in the clan/his own.

— "Brightheart counts. She HAS to count." "Actually, Cloudtail took over her training…" [demented noises]

—

Turns out that Ravenpaw is alive and no one — no one — in the Harper Collins Extended Universe is happier than Tigerclaw.

"You're alive! …You deserve your warrior name!" "Actually, I've come to peace with my name and my way of life. I have no need for a���" "GET YOUR FUCKING NAME RIGHT NOW RAVENPAW OR SO HELP ME STARCLAN—" "I know you really wanted Ravenpaw to become a warrior," Barley says gently, "but he's made his decision. It's very kind of you to acknowledge that he deserves it, though. You must have been so close as mentor and apprentice." Tigerclaw's eye twitches. "Yes. Close. Very... close." —

He finally, finally retires as an elder after his plans go absolutely nowhere for years on end. And maybe StarClan is still like "Brambleclaw would be chill actually, we can forget that pesky little law" and Tigerclaw is sitting there like "excuse me what the actual fuck?" —

But at this point Tigerclaw is about as dangerous as Ashfur without a freak forest fire. Which is to say about as dangerous as using a leaf as a weapon. Which is, incidentally, how Darkpaw managed to get himself killed in the first place.

—

"Is this the Dark Forest? This has to be the Dark Forest. It doesn't look like Thistleclaw described it, but it must be. This Clan is all an elaborate punishment meted down by StarClan for my sins." "Tigerclaw, sir, I'm just here to help you with your ticks. See? I have the mousebile right here." "…Yes, thank you, Alderpaw." — Graystripe joins him in the elder's den and he's like, "You know, Ravenpaw thought you were up to some… scheme, back in the day. Crazy, right? You've been a model Clanmate as long as I've been alive." [muffled screaming] "Huh, what do you think that is? It sounds almost like someone killed a rabbit, but they know not to come this close to camp…"

[erinwantstowrite]

what are your thoughts abot how Damian and Tim's relationship is portrayed in most fanfics?

personally, although I like the angst part of their relationship I wish there was more fanfics where they're closer and have real siblings dynamic (like u know they 'hate' eachother but they would destroy anyone who would want to hurt their brother)

oh, boy, do i have a lot to say about this one. buckle in, folks.

i feel like a lot of the time, if they're in a fic together and the fic author doesn't like one of them, the other is going to be mischaracterized to hell and back. sometimes... both are mischaracterized.

i'm all for a fanon interpretation of a character- obviously, because i have fanon interpretations in my fic too at least a wee bit- but sometimes it goes too far and it no longer feels like we're reading about the same character

let's talk about Tim.

Tim doesn't have a good view of himself or his standing in any emotional aspect. which is often misconstrued about him believing that he was Jason's replacement (neither he nor Bruce thought this, but it was Bruce's fear), or that his worth as Robin wasn't enough. that's not true at all. i'll say it again here: Jason didn't nearly kill Tim at Titan's Tower, nor did he go there to kill Tim. and Tim fought him back. he even told Jason to his face:

"you can't be that good" "I am."

he knows he's a damn good Robin! he trained with the best, he helps lead the YJ! he doesn't doubt that he was the best person for the job. but when it comes to the emotional aspect of Robin, i think this is where Tim stutters

this is because of how Tim's parents showed their affection.

i think canon neglects that aspect of his trauma, which is why so many people hang onto it. in the comics, Tim is shown to have a lot of friends both in and out of suit. he's abrasive and isn't afraid to ask the hard questions. but he is riddled with self worth issues. his parents were barely around him, they didn't know him well at all. and they loved him, but from a distance.

Tim now sees himself as someone that can receive love from a distance. he is incredibly self reliant, and has been from a young age. he sees all of his accomplishments as obligations. he does well at school because he had to. he takes care of himself because he had to. and in his mind, taking up Robin was partly another obligation. he does his job well because he has to, and he might doubt this sometimes like anyone else, but at the end of the day he is confident in his ability to get shit done.

now, the emotional part of Batman and Robin is where i believe i enjoy a fanon interpretation more. he actually does have a good relationship with Dick, but I'm not too sure about Bruce at this point. this topic is nuanced because Batman writers make him so diabolical at times to the point that i would consider it ooc. but other times they're very close and Bruce admits this. so i replace it in my head with a more stable and realistic version that i've seen written by fic authors very well.

Tim views himself as someone who is there for a job: help Batman. but there is a lot of wonder and awe there. his favorite Robin was Dick. (I'll say this again so everyone hears me: his favorite Robin was Dick. yes you are allowed to have nuance and put Jason in there as someone he looked up to as well, please do. but put some respect on Dick's name!) now that he's working with Dick Grayson, someone he admires so much, as well as getting the honor to wear the Robin suit, he feels more like himself than he has in years. he's good at this, and it's also fun. he meets so many people and he gets to make a difference in the world. yes, it's a job, but it's also very freeing

he never did this be Bruce's son, or to replace Jason. his relationship with Bruce started off extremely rocky, with Tim forcing himself into his life in some way because he believed that Batman was going to get himself killed or get someone else killed, or Batman would cross the line. and Gotham would lose the only person who had such unwavering optimism for them. he and Bruce come to an understanding of being partners but not father and son. Bruce doesn't want to open himself up to that hurt again. but we all know Bruce, and that's not what ended up happening. Bruce would never be the same person he was before, but he is not incapable of love.

Tim would not understand that change. I'd get more into this but i don't want this post too long and i wanna save it for when i'm not supposed to be sleeping and when i'm writing one of my Tim fics for once. all we really need to know is that Tim's emotional intelligence is dogshit, and him coming to see Bruce as a father, and Bruce seeing him as a son, would baffle him. because his parents love him... at a distance. and Bruce sees him every day. that's not how it's supposed to work, right?

so.

sometimes, Tim is treated like a porcelain doll who can do no wrong. many aspects of his canon has been altered by fanon to be "worse" than it is. his neglect by his parents did, indeed, happen, and it affects him deeply. but his parents weren't like. beating him, or leaving him without food or shelter or supervision. Tim was clever enough to get around that supervision all on his own. which is why they should have been there in the first place. (they should have been there regardless). and emotional neglect is still a very real issue??? no one has to make it "worse" by making the Drakes out to be monsters. i think Jack often emotionally manipulated Tim when he was around, and I don't know if Jack was even aware that he did so. (which is why i can see some people delving into that nonexistent relationship that DC gave us, and finally giving those implications more depth. there are a lot of good fics that go over this)

often it's hard to read a fic for Tim because they go too hard into making Tim an anxious shy ball of sunshine. Tim is weird, and he stalked the Bats, he stalked Nightwing, he broke into Titan's Tower before he even became Robin. he's a weirdo. he fits right in with the Bats for that reason. some people make him out to be the victim or some kind of damsel in distress, and sometimes we get to see a phenomena where other characters talk like a book about emotional intelligence that their therapist gave them. which is... fine, if you're just writing to write it, maybe helping yourself. but let's take a step back and see Tim is not like that. he is a very capable person, and his not some "uwu, woe is me, i'm so shitty at everything and if you even look at me wrong i'll cry." i honestly believe that Tim is the type of character to hate crying in front of someone and even if he was actively dying he'd be holding back those tears.

whereas Damian? gets the opposite treatment??

granted, i don't actually know too much about Damian, but i at least try to understand him and his background

he's the youngest of them, and i think many people forget that Damian isn't a reader of the comics like we are. he wasn't going into that family with the emotional connections to these characters and their backstories like we did. he was taught about these people, the idea of them. like how we could be taught in class about people from a long time ago. and i can ensure you that Damian was not taught proper emotional intelligence, nor would he have the best grasp of it himself when he was younger than 9 years old. imagine all of your teachers and also your mother told you about these people and their accomplishments, and then told you that the person all of them look up to is your father. the person that you want nothing more than to know, to see, because the people around you talk about him so highly. someone you haven't gotten to meet yet, because you aren't "worthy." can you imagine being told all your life that you are not worthy to see your father yet? and not knowing if he believes that too?

but one day, you are going to be by his side as his son. i don't want to get too into the culture of the Al Ghul family because i don't actually know that much (i'm sure someone would know more about this, feel free to add on if you want to), but this is important to Damian. it's important to his mom. it's important to his grandfather, the leader of an extensive organization that stretches hundreds of years.

then he gets dropped off in a different country, culture, language, and family and he finds that things are not as he had been told his entire life. his father has many flaws, they do not believe the same importance of a blood tie as his family back home does. they question his entire upbringing to his face many times, they question his mother who he loves deeply. he's nine years old. imagine yourself in that position. you don't know yet what role you're playing in an adult's life, but you want to. desperately. you want to know where you stand. you want a hug. not to mention that Damian actually is a very emotional kid. he was taught to shove that deep, deep down, and not let that out.

too many people write Damian as if he was a "feral" kid which is kind of not something to put on him? i don't like it both because he wasn't feral, he was an asshole. there's a difference. and because it feels like a microaggression?? at times?? because once again... the culture that he is from... is important.

they have been racially profiled for many many years... and yes, everything that you read is political whether you want it to be or not. the act of reading is political. you should definitely be aware of what a writer's goal is when they were giving something to you. you should be reading deeper. again, i'm not from his culture and i can't say if it is an insult/insensitive joke or not, nor am i saying everyone who's made the joke before is a bad person. i have made jokes about Tim being a feral kid before and whatnot. i'm saying that no matter who you are, it is your responsibility to think critically about your media and kindly about other people. it feels uncomfortable to me because i know how wrongly the Al Ghuls (specifically Talia) have been treated by writers in the past. and Damian is an extension of that bias. just look at how many times they try to push Ian Wayne on us. or how they'll pull back on Damian's character development when talking about the Al Ghul family.

this probably isn't my topic to write about, at least not before i learn more about it. but since i get a fair amount of viewership, maybe someone will listen to me that won't listen to someone of color that has already pointed this out many times. with the comics fandom, and Batman fandom specifically sometimes, people don't care to think further about why the characters of color are so often and conveniently left out or forced into an archetype. take that as you will

so! he has spent his entire life believing he had to live up to two great legacies, both of which are VERY different. the intricacies of the Al Ghul family are often boiled down to pure evil by both fanon and canon writers, which dulls Damian's resolve and reasoning for what he had done, or makes it hard to connect to him. he has since learned more about who he wants to be and has come to respect his family in many ways. excuse me if i'm wrong, but i think part of why Damian came so hard for Tim was because Tim had everything Damian wanted. he had a place by Batman's side as both his son and his partner, and was very well respected by Batman and Nightwing both. he's older, more mature, he has stature in both this society Damian now has to fit into and within the family dynamic. considering Damian grew up in an assassin cult that solved threats to their dynamics or positions in power by murder, it wasn't a far leap for a child from that environment to make. he was modelling what he had been taught his entire life.

think about the mistakes that you made as a kid. and i don't mean something silly or funny now, i'm talking something that makes you feel ashamed. embarrassed. hurt. something that perhaps now as an adult, you reflect on as being totally uncool. and i want you to think about if maybe your environment had a role to play in that. maybe you made an insensitive joke that your mom or dad would have found funny, and someone pointed it out and reasonably made you feel like a jerk. shit happens. but you hopefully grew from that.

now imagine that mistake was you hurting someone.

yes, he was annoying. he was bratty, at times. he could be a little calculating shit. he hurt people with both his words and his weapons. Tim obviously had many many many reasons to be upset about his treatment- but I fear that most of his anger ended up directed at the older people in their lives that were supposed to be the ones to do something about it!

and though i hate that Tim went back to being Robin (it feels redundant), i have seen panels that show that the two of them working side by side after Damian and Tim both went through some life and perspective altering events both together and alone, has made Tim see Damian as his little brother, and vice versa. Damian has grown so much and many people just... don't care. no matter their reasoning for hating Damian, it's unfair to not look further than those cutting words written decades ago, or to bring up his mistakes every time you want to be mad at him. and i think it does a disservice to Tim to make him a bleeding heart about this when he has clearly forgiven Damian and cares about him. he rags on Damian like any older brother would, and Damian makes remarks like a younger brother would. personally, i think the two of them are doing pretty good right now

the development of their characters is actually so interesting within the canon aspect, even if they can fumble the ball every now and then. and the mischaracterization takes away the value that their canon relationship has. i personally love reading fics that have Damian and Tim teaming up. in aus where one thing changes and Tim and Damian become brothers later, i think it's actually so silly and fun when Damian respects Tim or thinks he's cool. or even without the au aspect! just like, a fic where the two of them are working together and it's either silly or serious, Damian having a begrudging respect for Tim and Tim being protective over Damian, etc etc, is sooooo much fun

[dandylovesturtles]

oh yeah so Yes pretty overwhelmingly won the poll so you guys only have yourselves to blame for seeing this nonsense I will probably not do much more with lol

anyway I've been mentally calling it the Draxum's Kids AU or Step-brothers AU because I didn't come up with anything creative

high level premise is that, due to ~mystic shenanigans~, Draxum from the OU (post-movie) gets pulled through a portal to another dimension, about a year behind the OU dimension, where he kept the turtles and accomplished a lot of his human eradication goals but was also a terrible father. Draxum sees the writing on the wall that his AU self's foolish actions have led to an impending apocalypse and finds the AU's Mikey (who is only called Boxshell) to help him get back to the original dimension. But as soon as he meets back up with Boxshell his Dad Instincts kick in and he realizes he can't just leave "his" kids here to die, so he decides to kidnap all four of them back to the original dimension.

this is complicated a bit by all of them hating each other

under the cut is about 3000 words of Draxum getting abducted

Draxum would really appreciate it if they could make it six months without a potentially world ending threat.

This one seems particularly suspicious. Giant black swirling vortexes giving off massive mystic energy signatures don’t simply <i>appear</i>, not for no reason. The fact that Michelangelo had been the first to notice it, cocking his head to the side like a bloodhound hearing a rabbit, was not putting him at ease, either.

“Soooo,” says Leonardo, swords already drawn and held loose at his sides, “what is it, Draxy?”

That is not his name, but because the situation is serious, he answers anyway. “You expect me to know? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Come on, you’re our mystic guru! So get with the guruing!”

Draxum just gives him the look that the kids are coming to call his “not mad, just disappointed” face. He doesn’t have any more answers than he did two seconds ago. On the plus side, it doesn’t seem like anything is coming <i>out</i> of the dark swirly vortex, nor is anything getting sucked in. It’s just hanging there, in the sky over the Hidden City, menacingly.

“Doesn’t it feel familiar?” asks Michelangelo. Unlike Leonardo, he still hasn’t drawn any weapon. He’s just watching it, curious.

“I don’t remember the Krang portal looking like that,” says Donatello. “We could see the Prison Dimension on the other side. That’s just… an indistinct vortex of doom.”

“Not like the Krang,” says Michelangelo, but he doesn’t offer any further guesses. He just watches it with big eyes.

“But we gotta do somethin’ about it, right?” asks Raphael. “We can’t just leave it up there.”

“Well, if it’s not hurting anyone,” says Leonardo slowly.

“Just because it is not doing anything in this instant does not mean it will stay that way,” says Draxum.

“Yeah, yeah.” Leonardo slices through the air, a blue and less chaotic looking portal opening up. “Let’s check it out, Dee. Get some energy readings and all that nerd jazz. The rest of you, stay here in case it’s dangerous.”

“Oh, but it’s fine if it’s me,” says Donatello, but he steps up to the portal anyway. 

Draxum feels uneasy, because he doesn’t know what that thing is or what it will do, and because he doesn’t want the two of them going alone. “I’ll come with you,” he says, and when the kids give him a look, he quickly adds, “I may notice something that Donatello would miss.”

“I don’t <i>miss</i> things,” Donatello snaps back, but that’s factually untrue, so Draxum just grunts in response to it. 

“Sure, goatman cometh,” says Leonardo airily. “Let’s just go!”

Just to be sure nothing bad will happen, Draxum steps through first. The twins follow him.

They’re on a rooftop now, just under the vortex. Draxum had been expecting… something, but there are no threats, no signs of anything amiss. It’s a bit windy, and the vortex is making an ominous buzzing noise, but that’s all.

“Can you tell anything from here?” asks Leonardo, looking between the two of them. Donatello has his goggles down and a holoscreen up, incomprehensible numbers scrolling by at a fast pace. For his part, it seems the same to Draxum here as it did across town.

Donatello’s readings slow, and he raises the goggles again. 

“It’s… definitely massive, but I can’t tell much more than that. Though… I think Mikey was right. That it feels familiar.” He looks at his brother, something complicated in his expression. “Like we’ve seen something like this before.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” says Leonardo, before turning his attention to Draxum. “How easy is it to make an interdimensional portal, anyway?”

Draxum snorts at this question. “For a pocket dimension, relatively simple. For an actual, separate world… Theoretically, it could be done, but it would take a massive amount of mystic energy and decades of experience. Especially if one does not have a mystical object to channel a portal through, like the key that was used for the Krang’s prison dimension.”

“But Mikey was able to do it,” Leonardo points out.

“Yes. And need I remind you it almost killed him.”

“You needn’t,” he snaps back. “I’m just saying… <i>if</i> it can be done, it really seems like someone’s trying it right now.” He still has his swords out, watching the vortex warily. “And what’re the odds that they’re coming here for a friendly visit?”

Draxum doesn’t argue there; he’s already treating whatever this is as hostile. Better to assume wrong and apologize later than to let down his guard and let one of his kids get hurt.

There’s the sound of footsteps behind them, and the three of them turn at once, startled. “Well, there’s Mikey,” Leonardo is already saying in a resigned sort of way, like he knew Michelangelo would join them before he gave the command.

“Sorry, Leo,” says Raphael, landing with heavier tread on the rooftop just behind Michelangelo. “He gave me the slip.”

“Guys, it’s fine!” Michelangelo argues, in that tone he uses when he feels like he’s being babied. “I’m telling you, whatever’s making that portal isn’t here to hurt us.”

“And you know this based on what evidence?” asks Donatello.

“It’s a feeling!”

“Ah yes, feelings, how quantifiable.”

“Well <i>you</i> don’t have any evidence it’s evil either, Donald!” Michelangelo retorts.

Draxum is about to step into the middle of this quarrel when Leonardo stops it for him.

“Guess we’re about to find out who’s right,” he says, eyes locked on something above them, and Draxum looks up just in time to see that there’s <i>movement</i> coming from the vortex now. “Dee, take Raph; Miguel, you’re with me.”

“Wait, guys, we should just-” Michelangelo tries again, but a shimmering blue portal under his feet stops him. Leonardo and Michelangelo reappear in the sky above, Leonardo using his portals to stay airborne while Michelangelo catches himself with his mystic powers. There’s the roar of a jet, and then Donnie is after them, his shimmering mystic tech carrying himself with Raphael dangling underneath.

And of course they’ve left him on the roof. Draxum sighs. <i>Children</i>.

He pops several vines on the roof and uses them to propel himself skyward, eyes searching for what has come through the portal, if that’s what it is. It’s difficult to see against the black coloration, but the boys seem to have gathered under a figure in a dark cloak, who emerges slowly from the middle of the vortex. It seems to cling to them like dark, black ink, the mystic energy drawing out behind them in long, gooey ropes. 

Draxum knows he is still many meters away, but even still, he doesn’t think the figure is very large. It’s a surprise, given that the vortex itself is at least fifteen or more meters across, but the figure coming out is short and slight, not even as big as Michelangelo. Of course, that doesn’t mean much; plenty of yokai are small statured naturally, as are some humans. Even Lou Jitsu is small, now, but still mighty. He can’t let the size of the person put him off guard, especially when they have summoned such massive mystic energy.

“Hey!” cries out Michelangelo. “Can we talk to you!?”

The figure in the cloak seems to startle at being addressed. For a moment, they hang in the air, the ropey energy of the vortex growing thicker on their arms and legs. Almost like it’s trying to pull them back.

The figure seems to realize this, too, because they jerk forward and raise their arms in a panicked arc.

Fire comes out - dark flames with incandescent blue cores that Draxum knows are hotter than any normal flame. If the boys are struck, the damage will be severe. Thankfully, Michelangelo yelps and whirls aside before he can be burned.

“I don’t think they’re interested in talking!” calls Donatello.

“That’s alright,” yells Raphael, his ninpo lighting his body red, “because <i>I’m</i> interested in smashing!”

The midair fight begins in earnest now, the boys darting around the figure with their weapons drawn, even Michelangelo. The cloaked figure fights back with the flames, dark and so hot that as Draxum’s vines carry him closer, he can feel the heat coming off of them. Yet, despite the intensity of the attacks, Draxum notices that they are unwieldy and unpracticed, like the wielder has no real experience in fighting, and certainly not midair against so many opponents. Add to that, the strange, inklike properties of the still-spinning vortex seem to be actively trying to pull the figure back; each time they make progress, the moment their attention is drawn by one of the boys, they’re yanked back another few feet.

Draxum sprouts a few more vines off his main one, so that he can move more freely. Aerial combat has never been his forte, but he can make it work. So long as none of those desperate fire attacks burn through his vines and send him tumbling to the ground (he can only hope, in that event, that one of the twins notices him). 

The cloaked figure is still attacking wildly, and the boys have to move fast to keep out of the way. It’s easier for Michelangelo and Donatello, who can stay airborne indefinitely; Leonardo, meanwhile, has to use his portals to catch himself and Raphael periodically, portalling them back to the sky or giving them a portal to ground to launch off of. This leaves them open to attack.

Draxum couldn’t have made it in time if he’d wanted to, but in the moment he isn’t thinking he has to.

One of the unfocused black flames strikes Raphael; his ninpo projection protects him from being harmed, but he still lets out a gasp of surprise as it burns rapidly through the ninpo itself, leaving him exposed. Donatello swoops in to catch him before he can fall, and all the boys hang back for a moment, stunned by this development.

“What was <i>that</i>!?” Leonardo calls out, portaling above Donatello and landing on his constructed battleshell (Donatello says, “Oof!” loudly, but doesn’t throw him off). “It just burned through Raph’s shield like it was tissue paper!”

“Augh… that felt… weird.” Raphael is rubbing at his temple with his fingers. “Raph did not like that.”

“Alright, clearly this guy is dangerous.” Leonardo is tense, eyes focused as he watches the cloaked figure yank free of the stringy ropes of magic from the vortex, coming closer. “But see how the portal’s trying to pull them back in? We just gotta get them close enough and send ‘em back where they came from.”

He glances over at Michelangelo. Draxum looks, too. The boy’s brow is creased, like he isn’t happy with this outcome, but his eyes are focused on Raphael.

“...Yeah,” he says finally, and gives his nunchucks a swing. They light up with his orange ninpo, the bright fire a stark contrast to their enemy’s dark flames. “Let’s send ‘em back!”

The boys spring back into action, and Draxum follows suit, his vines carrying him up, closer to the vortex. Now he can feel more of the thing’s power directly, a great gusting wind that pulls rather than pushes. He hangs back from the direct fighting and instead watches the boys closely, should he need to intervene the way he hadn’t for Raphael. If the fire can eat through their ninpo, then any of them being struck would be disastrous - especially if one of the others could not catch them in time.

The kids are succeeding in their gambit to push the figure back towards the vortex, but that means they are also increasingly putting themselves in range of its dangerous reach. The ropey strands of dark mystic energy reach out like hungry tendrils, latching onto scales before being cut or shaken off. Leonardo has all but abandoned the fight against the figure and instead puts his efforts into slicing the strands apart any time they touch one of his brothers, either directly with his katana or with a well placed portal. He leaves the strands that attach themselves to the mysterious person, and they wrap more firmly around the legs, arms, and neck of the one in the cloak.

And that’s when they finally speak.

“No!” they cry out, in a voice unmistakably juvenile. “No, please! I just want to escape - don’t make me go back!”

Michelangelo stops short, bobbing uncertainly only a few meters from the screaming figure (a boy, Draxum thinks, but cannot be sure). “Guys,” he says hesitantly, lowering his weapons. “I really think we should-”

Whatever he was about to say is interrupted by a burst of flames from the cloaked boy’s hands, spiraling directly towards him.

“MIKEY!” shout several voices at once; Draxum only realizes a beat later that one of them is his. He’s the closest, and he moves fast, putting himself and a wall of vines between the flames and his son.

The flames make such short work of the vines, it’s almost comical. Draxum watches as the fire races down the towering stalk he’s made, eating them away and leaving nothing behind, not even ashes. The vine Draxum was standing on is, of course, completely obliterated, and he feels the swoop in his stomach as gravity starts its relentless pull.

“Dad!” he hears Michelangelo call out. The boy reaches a hand toward them, and in his panic Draxum reaches back. They are only a few meters from each other, and then less and then less, fingers almost touching-

But it is something else that grabs him first.

The vortex’s dark energy feels disgusting and slimy where it touches Draxum’s fur, like a leech pulled from some noxious bog. Its tug is ferociously strong, and he realizes that if Leonardo had not been quick, if the magic had wrapped around any of his brothers’ limbs the way it’s wrapped around Draxum’s arm, disentangling them would have taken massive effort. As it’s going to take to free him now.

There’s a yank, and he’s ripped away from Michelangelo and towards the vortex.

“No!” screeches the cloaked boy, and sputtering flames spill out around him, forcing the turtles back before they can move in to rescue him. “No! Get away! Leave me alone!”

“Gladly!” Draxum shouts back, ripping and yanking to try and free his arm. “Just close this foolish portal and go back where you came from!”

“I <i>can’t</i>!” the boy screams, and he sounds so wretched, Draxum almost feels some sympathy for him. “I can’t! I can’t!”

“You must!” Draxum argues, because he can tell. The energy has wrapped too securely around the cloaked boy now; there will be no freeing him. The portal he made is impressive, <i>especially</i> as young as he sounds, but it is not complete. He could not be severed from it, even if they tried to help. In fact, if they fully pulled him from the vortex, it would likely kill the child.

No; he must go back. But… is there still time for Draxum?

“Barry!” he hears the boys call out. They try to get close, but another burst of searing heat from the panicked boy in the vortex keeps them from advancing. More of the stringy ropes of magic are wrapping around Draxum now, on his arms, his torso, his legs. His neck. They yank him back, hard, and he gasps as the air leaves his lungs. The mystic energy slithers over him like a living creature, wrapping him up more and more securely in its snare.

It seems… there is not.

“<i>NO</i>!” screams the cloaked boy, one last panicked, desperate cry, but then his voice is abruptly silenced. There’s a roaring noise, incomprehensibly loud, and Draxum faintly wonders if this is how it sounds when a star collapses in on itself.

The last thing he sees as the portal closes around him is Michelangelo’s face, eyes wide and afraid, mouth open in a shout, hand outstretched as far as it can go.

And then all is dark.

…

When Draxum wakes, he’s laying on the ground in an alley in the Hidden City.

He feels a flash of <i>something</i> markedly unpleasant when he realizes he’s alone: sadness, betrayal, perhaps even, Titan forbid, <i>loneliness</i>. It seems the boys have left him to his fate and gone home.

Then he remembers the portal, and Donatello and Michelangelo’s guess that it was interdimensional. It’s likely the boys don’t know where he is. It’s possible he’s not even in the same time.

Or the same world at all.

Disturbing as that thought is, the part of the Hidden City he can see from his vantage point seems familiar enough. He recognizes this as a part of the old downtown, not far from where he and the kids had been fighting the cloaked boy. Even if this isn’t his time, at least he should still be able to navigate - that makes things easier.

He gets to his feet, shaking the soreness out of his limbs. He hears something pop, and is suddenly immensely glad the boys aren’t here after all. He’d rather not endure another round of teasing for being “old”.

The Hidden City he travels through seems largely the same as the one he left, to a degree that he starts to wonder if it wasn’t an interdimensional portal after all. If it was, the dimension he’s in now seems to have only slight variations.

Or that’s what he thinks, until he makes it to the nearest portal back to New York City.

There’s a checkpoint set up in front of it, one that didn’t exist here before. There are guards standing sentinel, ushering through a line of yokai and occasionally asking questions. They don’t seem hostile to the yokai, but it does seem like precautions need to be taken for… some reason.

More startling to Draxum are the crests that adorn banners hung around the checkpoint, matching emblems blazed on the uniforms of the officers.

His family’s crest.

It seems this dimension is quite different after all.

[queensunshinee]

His favorite toy- Part 4 || Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex), our favorite toxic relationship is back.

Word Count: 6.1k

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

This one can stand on its own, but I recommend reading the rest :)

His favorite toy- Part 4:

"What are you doing here?" I tried to sound composed. My heart couldn't stop racing at a speed I never wanted it to beat again. A speed reserved for one person only. And no matter how many years passed or how out of place he would seem in my world, Art Donaldson entered my life like he was the boss. Like he was paying my salary. With exaggerated confidence and an aura that made me blush. A smile that made my lips tremble.

I was painfully aware that my mascara was smudged after a too-long day, and that I had taken my shirt out of my skirt after lunch. Painfully aware that I had taken off my shoes an hour ago because pacing around the room in heels made it hard to think. Painfully aware that he was seeing me in all my flaws now. Years after the last time we met, and he was just as smug.

"I was in the area, and Patrick mentioned something about you working around here..." he said, as if everything in that sentence made sense. As if the fact that I stayed in touch with Patrick made sense. I nodded, trying to somehow control this ridiculous situation. I'm not supposed to react this chaotically to Art Donaldson. I'm 28. I'm not a 19-year-old girl. I do morning meditations. I drink green smoothies and ginger shots. I'm a fucking queen. But I don't feel particularly royal when I remember the coffee stain on my shirt, or the half-eaten avocado sandwich I bought from the café downstairs. It was awful. Both the sandwich and the café. I’m pretty sure the regular barista hates me because once I corrected one of my orders. Ever since, he's been out to get me. It’s a nightmare. I've considered changing jobs more times than I'd like to admit because of it.

"That sounds... completely normal," I mumbled, and he chuckled in response. One of his legs found its natural place over the other, and his fingers played with one of his billion rings in a disturbingly nonchalant way. "Is a tennis player supposed to have that many rings?" I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, knowing how stupid it sounded. Hating myself a little for how stupid it sounded. "I don’t play with them, and they’re beautiful," he shrugged. "They’re ridiculous," I rolled my eyes, trying to recover from this topic of conversation. "Yours is ridiculous," he shot back playfully, looking directly at my ring. At the small diamond (Art probably thinks it’s too small- well, fuck him).

"Oh, this?" I asked, and now we were both looking at it. I liked it until about three seconds ago. Until he walked into the room and stared at it like it was filled with snake venom. It felt like it weighed as much as my entire body. It felt like it was burning my hand from the inside. My blood boiled beneath it, reminding me that all my plans just went to hell. A reminder that I was crazy to even try making plans. "It’s pretty, delicate," I could hear the mockery in his tone. No matter how many years passed, I would always recognize every nuance in his voice. Every rise and fall in octaves. Every unnecessary affectation. He smiled the way he did when he tried to get under my skin—five minutes hadn’t passed, and he’d already succeeded. How embarrassing. What a failure as a person. A failure as a woman. A failure to feminism. Sitting in my office with a coffee stain on my shirt, while my ex from college critiques my choices like some kind of fraudulent fortune-teller. Like God sent him to help me make some life-changing decision.

"Why are you here?" I asked again, trying to maintain control and not snap at him. After all, we hadn’t spoken in nearly a decade. What good would it do to lash out at him? What would it accomplish to tell him about the therapy sessions, about the years I didn’t believe anything good was coming my way at all? About the fact that because of him, I didn’t believe I could ever be anyone’s first choice. "Why did you stay in touch with Patrick?" he asked, and for a moment, it sounded like his tough mask cracked. Like his defenses crumbled and his heart was laid bare. Like we were 20 again, and he was holding my face, explaining how scared he was to let me go.

"He insisted," I shrugged. The day after that party, Tashi's accident happened. Some would call it karma, but I’d say it was just bad luck. Because even though she hurt me without even knowing my name, I never wanted her career to end before it even began. And everyone was sad that day—Patrick, because he felt guilty, Tashi, because her knee twisted in the air, and Art, because he lost a friend and the girl who forgave him for all his bullshit. Aka me. But he won what really mattered. He got Tashi. Patrick found me that day in the library, refusing to wallow in my own misery, and somehow, he managed to entwine his miserable life with mine. He managed to secure a spot on my couch from time to time. He managed to impress me with lame jokes about his pathetic life, or maybe about mine.

And life didn’t turn out the way I planned. I didn’t discover a cure for cancer or make it to space by age 25. My apartment was crappy. So fucking crappy. But there were funny moments, and I only occasionally followed Art’s career. I only followed his love life when his face and Tashi’s were plastered on billboards. That could never have been me. It would never have worked. It wasn’t meant to be, I’d tell myself every time I was filled with self-pity. Every time I worked a temporary job selling skincare products or transcribing lectures for students. Every time I felt lost. I knew he wouldn’t have settled for someone like me in the long run.

He and Patrick made up two years ago, which was ironic. Because what’s the point of maintaining my friendship with Patrick if not to have at least one person in my life who understands the pain of knowing Art Donaldson? Of knowing that once, he was a part of your life, and it felt amazing. Almost unreal. Almost spiritual. But they made up, and Patrick promised me he wouldn’t talk about me with the smug bastard sitting in front of me right now. He promised and didn’t keep it. Well, here’s someone who’s never eating pasta at the restaurant near my place on my dime ever again.

"He insisted?" Art looked amused, and I just shrugged again in response. I knew he wanted more details, but I wanted him to take a headfirst dive into a volcano. Desires are ridiculous. "He insisted," I repeated, and this time he laughed. Actually laughed. "It's like you two have a contract not to tell me anything. How am I supposed to work with that?" He spoke as if we’d been friends for years. As if there hadn’t been a rupture, a break, and devastation. As if I didn’t have the image of him leaving me at that party seared into my brain. As if my heart hadn’t shattered into pieces because of him more times than I could count.

"I want you to handle my money," he suddenly said. "Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow, looking at him as if he'd lost a lobe of his brain. "You're a financial advisor, right? Be my financial advisor," he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, all while glancing at the pathetic office I was sitting in. "You don’t want me to be your financial advisor, Art," I almost snorted in disbelief. "You haven’t spoken to me in ten years, and now you know what I want?" he asked, allowing himself to raise an eyebrow in return. "This is a big firm; I can recommend someone who’d be happy to take you on," I tried to fake a smile. "I'll go to your boss and tell him I’m willing to let only you handle my account, and that you’re refusing. I’m sure he’d be thrilled. I Googled him—Albert looks like a guy who’d love to lose a wealthy client," and I saw that spark in his eyes. Challenging. Almost childish. The kind that said, 'Let’s see what you do. You’ll lose.'

"That’s a terrible idea," I declared. "Keeping in touch with Patrick and not me is a terrible idea. Managing my investments will give you some good money," he said, gesturing with his hands, and for the first time, I realized how big his hands were. "Are you bored with your life, Donaldson?" I asked, trying to figure out what I was dealing with here. "Come on, Peaches, you have to admit you missed me, at least a little." And for a change, his smile was genuine. He looked like every word I said could hurt him. "Like I miss my appendix," I rolled my eyes, and he laughed. "I’m looking forward to working with you." He suddenly stood up and extended his hand for a handshake, as if that wasn’t utterly ridiculous. "I’m looking forward to it like a deer looks forward to being eaten by a lion. It’s on my wish list," I said, and he just laughed again. A laugh that was too real. The kind that made tears gather in his eyes.

An hour after he left my dingy office, my heart was still racing at an unreasonable pace. The kind that made me wonder if there was a defibrillator in the building. I tried to remember if I shook his hand at the end of the meeting. I couldn’t. . . . As he left your office, Art felt like he does after a long tennis match. One that he won. A thought detached from reality, but he allowed himself those kinds of thoughts now. He was a new person. He believed in victories before they even happened. And seeing you after so many years in real life, not in blurry Facebook pictures, felt like a victory. You hadn’t changed much. The years had even given you a more sophisticated look—subtle yet full of curves. Your eyes still looked at him with that same spark. With a glimmer of something he could never quite put his finger on. But he wanted to conquer it. He wanted to win.

When Patrick and he reconnected, it was alongside the problems that only began in his relationship with Tashi. Alongside Lily’s birth, alongside the intrusive thoughts that had plagued him all his life, he wondered if it was a mistake. But Patrick was Patrick, and when he insisted on something, he got his way. And for Patrick, he and Art had to reconnect. So they did. Slowly, gradually. He wasn’t his best friend anymore, of course. But sometimes Art thought he was his only friend. Which was strange, because he was always surrounded by people. Tashi was supposed to be his best friend, but she never was. She made it clear more than once that it was a ridiculous notion.

One night, as he and Patrick were having beers at some sketchy bar, Patrick casually mentioned that you and he were good friends. Art looked at him as if he’d fallen from the moon. He wanted to punch him. He hadn’t expected that. It felt like someone had punched him in the chest and knocked all the air out of his lungs. Patrick got over Tashi and settled for you? You weren’t supposed to be a compromise. Art wouldn’t allow that. He’d go to war if he had to. He had no grounds for such a war, but you were too good to settle for Patrick. You were too good to settle for anyone, really.

He quickly realized that things between you and Patrick were platonic. Or at least that’s what the guy sitting across from him kept repeating, but Art wasn’t fully convinced. Everything was too mysterious. Patrick kept too much information to himself. He didn’t share anything with Art about your life, and the more Patrick kept things hidden, the more obsessed Art became.

And it wasn’t weird that he checked if you’d posted a new status on Facebook almost as often as he checked if his infant daughter needed anything. It wasn’t weird that he searched for you on Instagram. It wasn’t weird that he looked through the profiles of all 67 people you followed and hated most of them. Because you didn’t follow him, and millions of people did. You could have followed, and he wouldn’t have even noticed—allegedly.

"She got engaged," Patrick said one day, throwing it into the air as if he were talking about his grocery list. Art stared at him, blinking, trying to process the information. Who’s the person responsible for this? Who’s the person who took you away, and why do you think he deserves forever with you? What kind of thought is that—that someone else deserves forever with you? That someone gets to have a picnic in the park with you. To pick you up for dates. To share a house with you. There’s someone who’s going to be the father of your kids. Who picked out a ring for you. Who’s going to make sure your dreams come true. Art doesn’t know what your dreams are. But he doesn’t want to think about it.

"Is he a good guy?" Art knew that was what he was supposed to ask. That’s what social norms demanded. "I’ve sat with them a few times when they were together. He’s kind and funny, and I think he loves her," Patrick shrugged, as if that’s all it takes to be with you. "Well, I’m happy for her," Art took a gulp of whiskey, too big, letting the drink burn its way down his throat. Patrick looked at him like he didn’t believe him. His problem, Art thought. Let him believe whatever he wants.

That night, Art opened your Instagram while Tashi was asleep. There wasn’t a picture of a ring or a tag of some guy. Tashi got annoyed because of the phone light. Art apologized.

That was almost six months ago. Since then, his life had changed because he and Tashi decided to keep their relationship strictly professional. It was for both of their benefit, though he wasn’t entirely sure how much it benefited him. He was still learning how to function without her. He was still learning how to communicate effectively. He was still trying to bridge the dissonance that came with going home to an empty house, yet navigating press conferences as if he were happily married.

In two weeks, even that charade would end. And he wasn’t sure what he was even fighting for. Because they weren’t truly happy. And you were in his thoughts enough for it to count as emotional cheating if he were married. So he let Tashi go. He was much less broken than he had imagined he would be without her.

'I’m looking forward to working with you.' -Art- He couldn’t resist sending the message. Maybe ten at night was too late. Maybe you were already asleep. Maybe your fiancé was with you, trying to love you. Maybe Art was intruding.

He didn’t particularly care if he was. . . . "I’m going to kill you," I said into the phone, hearing Patrick's rolling laughter. "You're exaggerating—" he began, trying to save his ass. "We had one rule! Just one, Patrick!" I found myself pacing the bedroom while Alec worked in the living room. This was the day after the meeting with Art Donaldson. "He lives in New York and he’s divorced. I felt like a jerk not telling him where you work when he asked so nicely," Patrick’s voice sounded genuine. "He's not divorced," I rolled my eyes. I would know if Art were divorced. His and Tashi's faces are plastered all over this stinking city.

"They’re finalizing things in about a week and a half. There will be a press conference and everything. It’s going to be a big deal," he said, as if it were common knowledge. As if I should already know this. "Sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up. That wasn’t cool," he added, and I could hear him biting into something, probably an apple. "We’re supposed to be a team. You can’t prioritize Art Donaldson’s interests over mine. I fed you when you were half-homeless," I declared. "I still prioritize your interests, drama queen," he continued speaking lightly, as if I had no reason to feel like my world was crumbling. "How is this prioritizing my interests? I’m going to manage his money. I’m going to handle his investments, Patrick. I’m going to see his stupid face every time he wants, as part of my job. Because of you! This is your fault!" I found myself stopping for a moment in the room, almost stomping my foot in frustration. Years of self-work going down the drain.

"Everything okay, Bunny?" I heard Alec's voice from the living room. "Yeah, I’m just talking to Patrick," I replied, steadying my voice into something more composed and responsible. So he’d keep thinking I had my life together. "Tell him 'hi,'" Alec said, and I could only guess he’d put his headphones back on. "Well, hi," I rolled my eyes, returning to the conversation with the chief idiot. "I’m sorry," Patrick mumbled after a few seconds of silence, and I hung up, sprawling on the bed like a starfish. He didn’t sound sorry.

I sat down next to Alec on the couch, wearing just my bra and panties with an open button-down shirt over it. Sexy enough for any stranger peeking through the window. A teenage boy's wet dream. I’m on fire. He kept staring at his screen, ignoring my existence. I started placing small kisses along his neck, trying to set the mood. Trying to seal the deal. Trying not to think about the one-who-shall-not-be-named. Trying to be a good woman. Trying to conquer feminism with mediocre sex, just like Alec and I know how to deliver. "I really have to finish this, Bunny," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably, making me sigh, lean back, and roll my eyes. "How long will it take?" I asked. "You’ll probably be asleep by then. Watch an episode of your favorite show instead," he said without looking at me. "Can we talk about the wedding?" I tried another angle. "If I don’t have time to make love to you, I definitely don’t have time to plan the wedding," he said, slipping those hideous—massive—headphones back on, ending the conversation. I kind of hated that he never said "fuck" or "have sex" or even used the word "sex" in general. He always treated it like I was Princess Diana. I am clearly not Princess Diana. Sometimes I wonder if he even wants to marry me at all. It’s been over six months since he proposed, and he’s been dodging setting a date since practically the same day. It’s very frustrating. I need to meditate.

"Bunny," he suddenly said, and I looked at him expectantly while he removed his headphones after I’d already started heading to the bedroom, "you have a stain on your shirt." He quickly put his headphones back on, eyes glued to the screen. At least the soup I had for lunch managed to fuck me today. . . . "You can't just show up here," I said as I tried to finish chewing the terrible sandwich I’d chosen today. I think it had mold. "If you had answered my messages, we could’ve scheduled something without me showing up at your office." Art looked good. So fucking good. It was frustrating. Today was the day I decided to skip the contacts and wear glasses. God hates me. But on the other hand, God was trying to help me—making sure Art Donaldson never gets attracted to me. God is on my side. I knew she was a feminist.

"What do you want?" I mumbled in surrender, knowing he wouldn’t leave until he said whatever he came to say so we could all move on with our lives. "To talk business," he smiled from ear to ear. "I'm eating right now, come back in half an hour," I replied, "or better yet, schedule a meeting like a rational human being." I continued pressing my point. "Better idea, let's go grab lunch and talk business over food." He looked at me like a dad who just told his little girl what her next hour is going to look like. "Sorry, I can't—" "Art Donaldson! When I got your email, I couldn't believe it," Albert burst into my office excitedly. Sure, let’s invite everyone. Apparently, there’s free cookies being handed out. All are welcome.

Art kept wearing his unbearable poster smile while Albert went on and on about tennis and how much he loved Rafael Nadal. Albert is clearly a man with vast general knowledge. "She treating you right?" Albert asked Art as if they were best friends, and now they both stared at me while all I wanted was to finish my food-poisoning sandwich in peace. "She just agreed to join me for lunch to talk about my money," Art said, and if looks could kill, Art Donaldson would’ve had a stroke right there and disappeared from our lives as suddenly as he appeared. But no, looks don’t kill, and feminist God apparently isn’t on my side anymore because now I’m sitting across from this asshole at a diner. I ordered a burger because I knew he’d never allow himself to eat one and would whine for hours about how he wants to eat a burger every day but can’t.

"I hope that's okay," I smiled one of the fakest smiles I could muster, blinking as I took a bite of the slab of meat in front of me. "Mmm, it's amazing," I sighed, watching for a moment as he stared at me, mouth half-open, eyes sparkling. "You're cruel," he stated after shaking his head, as if shaking off urges. He looked different with short hair. I always told him he needed to cut it because it kept falling into his eyes, but his curls had a youthful playfulness that was clearly missing now. He looked defeated.

"So, what did you want to talk about? What are you looking to invest in?" I tried to focus on the reason behind this ridiculous meal while Art stole a fry from my plate and picked at the sad grilled chicken he had ordered. Maybe I should stop making those satisfied sounds when I eat. "You," he said, biting his lip like a kid who let a curse word slip in front of his mom. Testing boundaries. Watching as I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to let you waste my time, Donaldson," and we both knew I wasn’t just talking about business. Because honestly? Fuck business. Art didn’t seem like someone who was planning to disappear from my life anytime soon. He had shown up too determined for that to happen. "I have no intention of wasting your time, Peaches," he smiled, leaning back, relaxing a little after we established this basic ground rule. He continued stealing my food.

"So, tell me about him," he suddenly said after insisting I order an enormous ice cream that was supposed to be just for me. Every time his spoon got closer, mine heroically fought it off. "Who?" I asked, taking a spoonful of ice cream and leaving it in my mouth for a few seconds. His gaze immediately locked on my ring. "We're not that kind of friends, Donaldson," I said, watching as he inched his spoon toward my ice cream, and I quickly blocked him. No chance. "So what kind of friends are we?" he asked, smiling, looking half at me and half at our spoons, still battling each other. "I don't know," I sighed a little, finally lowering my spoon in defeat. There’s no point in fighting. It’s truly a lost cause.

The more Art Donaldson entered my life, the more Alec distanced himself from it. Art did it in a quiet way, almost eerily so. It started with deep conversations about financial investments he wanted to make. About charity events he wanted to be part of. A foundation he wanted to establish. He talked about his money as if it made sense to be this rich at his age. As if he and I were on the same level in terms of lifestyle. He never once acted condescending about it, even though I expected him to. Even though I had prepared arguments in advance. He never once asked why I didn’t continue in academia or why I gave up on medicine. He didn’t poke at that wound. Even though he could have. Even though it would’ve been easy.

It continued with stupid messages in the middle of the day about how he was hungry, tired, or wanted to go home. Messages about seeing a guy dressed as a bear in the middle of the street. Fucking New York. He’d ask questions about my day. Ask what I ate. If I ate. If I was drinking enough water. Never anything too deep. Never out of nosy curiosity. If I forgot who he was, I might’ve thought he cared about me. I know, it’s unbelievable.

One time, he called me at seven in the evening, talking such nonsense that I wondered if he was drunk. I wondered out loud, of course, because I’m not 19, and I’m not afraid to tell Art Donaldson what I think. He wasn’t drunk. He made dinner and decided to call. He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Said it, and then went on about his day. About Lily. About how she was adjusting to splitting her time between his place and Tashi’s. He talked about Patrick and told me what he was cooking. It was domestic. Like I was a part of his life. Weird.

Alec and I were in the middle of a fight that made me wonder if I was mentally strong enough not to throw the vase that was sitting on the dresser. Not at him. I’m not violent. On the floor, to make a point. “Do you even want to marry me?” I suddenly asked. Because at that point, I no longer knew what was happening. I don’t like not knowing what’s happening. “Of course I wa-” “To who the hell is it obvious? Do you know how embarrassing it is when people ask me about a wedding date almost a year later, and I change the subject?!” I cut him off. “Every time I try to bring it up, you’d rather talk about light fixtures or that time we randomly had an hour-long conversation about types of doors.” I reminded him of some of the truly bizarre moments we’ve had recently. “We do need to replace the door.” I shot him a look that should’ve made it clear that if he kept going with that sentence, I was breaking the vase on the floor.

“Why don’t you want to fuck me anymore?” I suddenly asked. Almost defeated after too much yelling. “What? Bunny-” he blushed. The question was too brutal for him. Too raw for his delicate soul, which couldn’t handle talking about sex. “I can count on one hand how many times we’ve fucked since you proposed,” I said it as bluntly as I could, enjoying his discomfort. “We don’t have to make love every day,” he mumbled. Last time I checked, to make love, there has to be love. I threw the vase. Alec left the house. . . . ‘You’re not at work.’ – A –

‘How is it that we’re back to you not answering me?’ – A –

‘Did you secretly get married over the weekend?’ – A –

‘Seriously, get back to me. It’s about the charity event.’ – A –

The bitter truth was that I was busy wallowing in the current failure of my life- Alec. I binge-watched all the seasons of The O.C. in three days and ate more ice cream than should be legal. But I didn’t feel the pain in my bones the way you’re supposed to when ending what was supposed to be the relationship. I’d once hurt more over losing someone who loved me less.

‘Are you okay? You’ve got our mutual friend worried.’ – P – He talked about Art like he was a spy. ‘Hey, could you stop being an idiot for a second and just answer to say you’re alive?’ – P –

‘I’m calling the fire department to check your apartment.’ – P –

‘This is concerning.’ – P –

‘I’ll call your mom. She’d love to hear from me after that time I burped in her face.’ – P –

‘I broke up with Alec.’ – (Y/N)–

‘You’re not going to die alone.’ – P –

‘I know you think you will, but you won’t.’ – P –

‘You can’t know that.’ – (Y/N) –

‘You’re an idiot.’ – P –

‘Are you okay?’ – P –

‘I mean, obviously you’re not okay, but... are you okay?’ – P –

‘I’m okay.’ –(Y/N)–

When I walked into the hall where Art Donaldson’s charity event for kids with muscular dystrophy, was being held, eyes didn’t turn toward me like they do in the movies. Everyone was too busy with their conversations and stroking each other’s egos. From the side, it almost looked homoerotic—the gentle touches on shoulders and the occasional pats. Almost sexy. Maybe I was seeing sex in things that weren’t sexy because my ex refused to touch me with more resolve than an ant carrying food that weighed more than its body. “You made it,” Art’s voice came from behind me. “You’re sharp,” I shot back as I turned to him, taking one of the champagne glasses he offered. “Is Patrick here too?” I asked. “No, he couldn’t come. He signed up for a Challenger in Malibu,” he replied, his eyes unapologetically scanning me. I felt completely exposed under his penetrating gaze. “So random,” I mumbled. Art’s hand gently pulled me by the waist, bringing me close to him while keeping his hand exactly where it was. I almost let confusion show on my face, but he introduced me to the man who had come over to talk to him, never taking his eyes—or his hand—off me. Not during the next conversation, or the next one, either. He presented us as a strange package deal. If someone wanted to talk to him, they had to talk to me too. Maybe he hoped it would drive people away. It didn’t. "Want to step outside for some air?" he whispered in my ear. After spending most of the evening standing so close to each other, it felt strange to pull away now that no one else was around. "Sure, why not." I shrugged, acting like it wasn’t a big deal. Before stepping out, we each grabbed a glass of wine. "You raised a lot of money," I remarked, trying to break the ice. "You disappeared on me," he shot back, not bothering with small talk. "I’ve been busy." I shrugged again. "Where’s your ring?" he asked. "You’re obsessed with my hands, Donaldson," I said, unsure how to respond to this level of bluntness after being in a relationship with someone who was too scared to talk to me for years. "It’s not relevant anymore," I added, as his gaze didn’t allow me to dodge the question. "Good, it was ugly," he stated, stopping in his tracks, making me stop too and turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow. His expression was challenging again, with that playful spark, inviting a debate. "It wasn’t ugly," I rolled my eyes. "It was pathetic, Peaches. You know you deserve better," he declared, leaving no room for argument.

And somehow, he was so close. Close enough that his breath, smelling of mint gum and wine, blended with mine. "I’m not looking for a rebound," I murmured. "Neither am I," his usual smug smile was gone. There was no trace of it. He looked hazy. Almost captive. "What are you looking for?" I dared to ask. "You," he replied. It was a good answer.

After an excruciatingly long hour and twenty minutes, during which I had two more glasses of wine, and Art spoke into the microphone—stopping me from downing a third—we arrived at his house. It looked a bit like a modern palace. "How is it that you live here?" I mused aloud, and his mouth found my neck as he chuckled. "What, this old thing?" he mumbled, his kisses as sharp as his words. "Don’t leave marks, Donaldson. We’re adults," I managed to say as I kicked off my heels, and he unzipped my dress.

"I want to do this from the moment you walked into the room today. Fuck, you’re so hot," he growled. It was throaty and masculine, almost animalistic. His eyes scanned me like a smoke detector picking up a cigarette. Within seconds, I found myself on the most comfortable couch I had ever been on. His lips traveled over me as if he was painting a map, as if he remembered all the sensitive points on my body. "I missed her," he said, giving a small bite to my right nipple, glancing at my face as I let out a moan. "her too," he added, moving to the left one. "Art, I need you." I tried to make it clear to him that I couldn't handle the teasing right now. That he should save it for another time. For someone else. For something else. I need him inside me.

"Peaches, have some patien—" he started, continuing to place deadly kisses on various areas of my body. "Art, just fuck me. Okay?" I almost pleaded, my voice lower than usual, filled with an inexplicable need. He looked at me for half a minute and nodded. "Okay baby, I got you," he said. And within seconds, his boxers were on the floor, and my panties disappeared too. He was inside me as if this was his home, as if he belonged there. "Fuck. Art. Thank you, there," I felt stupid, but I couldn't control it. I needed him so badly. I needed someone to fill the empty space. That Art Donaldson would fill the empty space.

He moved at a chaotic pace, almost as if he was trying to prove he could give me exactly what I wanted. What I needed. And he was right. I came after a few minutes, during which his cock filled me perfectly, and his lips found mine and refused to let go. He wrapped me from every direction and came right after I did.

"It's like we're teenagers," I muttered, and he laughed. "I usually last longer," he stated, not getting up, his body weight feeling almost comfortable on top of me. It was almost nice to breathe heavily. "So do I," I retorted. His hand drew little shapes on my shoulder. "Let's go to sleep," he decided, standing up slowly, reaching out his hand and pulling me toward him. Not forgetting to give me another kiss on the lips, a small one. As if it had happened a million times before. As if it were a routine.

"Your bed should be illegal, Donaldson," I said after he tossed a soft T-shirt he had in his closet over me. He lay down beside me, laughing. "I can't believe you're here. I was afraid it wouldn't happen," he said, with a seriousness that felt profound. "How long have you been thinking about this?" I tried to sound amused. "Since the moment I stepped into your office," his honesty was both terrifying and comforting. No one had talked to me so openly in a while. "probably before that" he added. "You can't waste my time, Art," I replied, looking up to catch his gaze. . . . Art took a moment to nod. He already had a ring for you. Even before you broke up with that idiot, he had bought the ring. He didn't know where life would lead you. He just knew he was going to spend every free moment proving to you that he loved you enough not to waste your time. Not when you were his favorite person.

How are we doing guys?!?!?!?! Can't wait to hear from you. That's my chance to remind y'all that English is not my first language and I might have some grammar issues. love you all, hope it was a good addition to the story <3

taglist: @lalalandofive @wild-rose-35 @theynothem @angelism13

[sabertoothwalrus]

hi !! just curious because i was looking at your adventure time episode guide and i love hearing other peoples adventure time takes !! how come you don't like finn's characterisation in together again?

I've talked about it before here and here!

But also I'm gonna say more and share some art I did in 2021 for a rewrite comic that I never got around to doing

So again to reiterate: Adventure Time is usually VERY good at making it feel like time passes, even when you're not watching. It's something about what they don't show that tells you everything you need to know.

Together Again did not do this.

It really really felt like they were avoiding showing Finn as an adult, as if they wanted to leave his post-show life ambiguous. Which, now that Fionna and Cake has shown us literally that, it makes Together Again feel even more wrong?? Like. imagine you have to pick a moment from your life that represents You™ the most. Together Again said that Finn, after living his whole life and dying as an old man, feels most represented by how he was at 17. I do not buy this. I am 25, and I cannot fathom identifying by my 17 year old self. I was a completely different person then, I was still cooking. I can imagine most people feel the same. And ok, so maybe Finn DOES for some reason feel stuck at 17? Explain to me why!! What needed to happen to him that made him feel that way?

And before you just say "it's because Jake died," there's still too much that was left out. How old was Finn when Jake died? What was Finn like, at that point? What else had they accomplished? What was he doing at the time that was on the forefront of his mind? Where/with who did they spend most of their time? Where were they living after the treehouse got destroyed?

It was like,,, it was like the story Together Again actually wanted to tell was about Finn's grief, and how poorly he copes, and how too much of his identity is tied to Having Jake, and how he struggles to move on. But that's not the story we got. I honestly think-- as interesting as it was-- everything with New Death and Tiffany and Lich just did a disservice to the focus, which was Finn trying to get over Jake.

I think Together Again should have gone like this:

Finn and Jake had always planned that whoever died first would wait in the dead world for the other to die so the two of them could reincarnate. Jake dies first. Jake would be able to "watch over" Finn as he lives the rest of his life, so Jake wouldn't miss Finn as much as vice versa, since he'd feel like he's still there with him. Eventually, Finn dies.

Finn's appearance would change with his emotional state. I thought it'd be interesting to show different phases of his life through the stages of grief.

There'd be a room where they could watch Finn's memories. Finn would walk Jake through the events of his life. We SEE exactly how Finn dealt with grief, with heartbreak, with love, with friends, with community. All the good and all the bad.

By the end of it, Finn is quiet. "Jake... when we reincarnate, will we.. lose all of this?" "Well, do you remember anything from any of your other past lives?" "No.. But that's the point. I don't want to forget you." Finn, despite their promise, despite Jake waiting for him all this time, declines reincarnating. He doesn't want to move on, because that would mean forgetting everything. He wants to say with Jake!! He JUST got Jake back!!

“What if— in the future— what if they forget about us? What if they don’t know about all the stuff we did?” We see Ooo in its current state. It’s changed, but it’s clearly been affected by the two of them. Every person they’ve saved, every civilization they helped build, every hero they’ve inspired. They’ve left their touch everywhere. “They’ll know,” Jake says with certainty. “We’ll know.” We see the future, with Shermy and Beth. We see the Finn Sword, and BMO with all their old belongings. Everything stays, but it still changes. Will happen, happening, happened. These have always been the themes of the show. They reincarnate, together.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I've been thinking the kind of writing I do and the kind of reactions it gets. Some authors get goofy comics of their works. Me? I just got a comment on my Captain America: Winter Soldier fic that I helped the reader understand 9/11. I am, by the way, delighted by that.

I struggle to describe my own writing style. It's wordy, I know that, and favors a LOT of detail, to its benefit and detriment. I'm indulging this tendency for my current fic because it's fanfic and I am having a lot of fun seeing what details I write that I end up elaborating on, but my number one style goal this year is to work on brevity and a snappier pace. My style is so introspective; characters spend a lot of time reflecting on themselves. I put a lot of work into making my characters complex, even at times contradictory because I think that's true to human nature. And by god, do I think about a story's themes. Do other writers think about themes this much? Sometimes I'm like, hey brain, I'm actually good on themes. Would love to get some plot.

Not to entice all the sapiosexuals out there, but I take a very cerebral approach writing. (This does not btw mean that the fic itself will be particularly intelligent.) I'm not saying this is a good or bad way--it's one way to write. My writing can feel very cold to me. Very same-y as well. That's why writing SQQ pov is so fun, it's such a radically different voice than my usual.

The fic I'm writing now was supposed to be a lighthearted fic that was an excuse for me to practice writing a sex scene. Almost 80k words in, it's so super not that. I just can't resist the thrall of complication. Although you know, as I'm writing this, I'm not exactly sure what an "intellectual approach" to writing even means to me. I use big words? I overuse semi-colons?

Maybe it's the way that I'm so language-forward in my writing. Like, what I love doing is crafting a sentence. Someone described literature to me as writing where the main draw is the author's technical accomplishment in executing their style. I definitely favor authorial voice, to the point where the stories I write that I like least feel like balsa wood gilded over. It looks nice, but you quickly realize it's weak as hell.

There's works that clearly value style over plotting, and vice versa. You need both when you write--all plot with no style reads like a synopsis of itself and all style with no plot is imagery in pursuit of nothing. Both very boring in their own way. It's interesting how totally which one weighs more affects every part of the story. Mrs. Dalloway is not a fast-paced page turner, and a thriller doesn't halt itself so we can read really beautiful, pointless paragraphs about how the color of the sky evokes memories of a long ago time when you were so different.

Maybe what I mean is that my stories tend to evolve out of the ideas that I'm exploring. In the fic I'm writing now, I had this core conceit of misunderstanding: people failing to interpret something without knowing they're doing so. In a way, the entire story is about the hard work of moving from misunderstanding to understanding. Getting information, interpreting it, having that interpretation challenged, exploring what that challenge provokes, moving either closer or further from "the truth". Shen Qingqiu misunderstands basically everything, and basically everyone misunderstands Shen Qingqiu. What situations can I make that center on misunderstandings? I also think a lot about the concept of fault--how have people failed in the past, how are they failing in the present, and how do you make up from what you have done wrong? Do you get to just move forward? Are you always at mercy of whatever you did in the past?

So a lot of the plot of the story stems out of ways that I can bring those ideas to the forefront. When I get stuck, I think of different ways these concepts can manifest. Ming Fan's getting a whole plotline because of this. I like my writing, I do, but I’ve really been thinking about the way I write affects what I write. And then in turn the reactions I get to my writing. And then I wrote this whole post because ao3 was down and I couldn’t post my chapter. And now here we are.

Also general DVD commentary on OOC fic--I hit such a roadblock because we're very close to the point of the story where Big Things are going to happen, and I could not decide on exactly how those things should occur. I had about three ideas that I was excited about. None of them were compatible with the others and each would have very different emotional implications. It's hard to write when you're essentially juggling three different drafts. The only way I got myself to commit to one was promising myself that I could always write AUs of my own fic. I honestly doubt I'll get around to doing that, but who knows. Maybe someday there will be a fic of (spoiler warnings ig for things that aren't going to happen) this fic's version of sqq and lbh in the endless abyss together.

Also you would not imagine the amount of thought I've given which conversation should happen before the abyss and where each character relationship needs to be. I have dithered like crazy. And there's so many relationships I'm working with. I'm keeping track of Shen Qingqiu's relationship with: Luo Binghe, Liu Qingge, Yue Qingyuan, Mu Qingfang, Ming Fan, Shen Jiu, Qing Jing Peak as a whole, a couple of OCs, the System, and his concept of self. Mu Qingfang has not been on screen for a minute but it's not because he doesn't haunt my plot outline. Sorry, bud, everyone else just keeps getting more pressing stuff.

[princesssmars]

alone together

a karlach x princess!reader.

in the blink of eye, you go from a carefree heir to a throne to a damsel in distress stuck in a tower. but there's a strange woman stuck with you, and maybe you can make each other a little less lonely.

wc : 8,655

contains: fxf. fem!reader. skin color not described. fluff. some light angst. smut. g!p karlach. oral and penetrative sex.

a/n: fuck that poll i'll do TWO fics for her i never cared! karlach has a little soldier because those bg3 mods have affected my brain and i need her to take me to pound town. sorry i rushed the ending i need this fic out NOW. enjoy :3

throughout history, many tales have been written about the failures of monarchs.

there was thaymor the vain, whose search for everlasting youth to sustain his envied beauty led to him making a deal with faeries for a youth spell, but they didnt tell him he would absorb this youth from his entire family, killing his lineage in only a few short years.

atreyu the acceptable, whose father went from being the hero who defended his village from raiders to the king who turned it into a flourishing kingdom, while the most his son accomplished was developing a new bread recipe in the palace kitchens. to be fair, it was rather tasty. bit too many nuts.

but the one story you loathed the most was cassara the chilled. a young, beautiful, and promising young princess who was locked in her room for nearly half a year as punishment for a false accusation of pushing her brother, the crown heir, down a flight of stairs. in her lonesome and desperation, she had turned to dark magic to sustain herself, and by the time her parents found her, she was a cold and petrified shell. nothing more than a glamorous statue.

you would read these stories in the palace library and, admittedly a bit morbidly, laugh to yourself. your family line was known for its intelligence and charisma, able to control your kingdom with ample care for its citizens and contributing greatly to its numerous advancements.

it'd been this way for decades - so how on earth were your parents so damned stupid?

you had noticed things like this before. the pair of them listening too closely to what citizens had to say while holding court. a few years back a fanatical farmer had told them he saw a sign from one of his gods that unless the kingdom slaughtered half its cows it would be leveled, and the king quickly gave the order. then it was later revealed that the farmer had eaten some contaminated mushrooms he had found on his farm and didnt even worship any gods.

the kingdom ate a lot of chicken that year. some of the court mages used spells to increase the egg output from the livestock to make up for it, which led to you quitting the meat for two years. those magic chickens were...odd.

but besides that, your life was nothing short of amazing. you were the only child and the crown heir, so even though you had the unbearable weight of the heavily bejeweled crown in your future, with all the luxuries you were afforded like dresses, jewelry, lavish balls, and dinners, it was very much worth it.

on a day when you had political tutoring instead of attending court, your parents must have done something to piss someone off, because the next time you came in you'd never seen a citizen have such nerve. it was an old woman dressed in black rags and holding a weird-looking staff, most likely a witch.

your family had no qualms against magic wielders as far as you knew, seeing any amount of help to grow their empire as worthwhile. but that changed when she aimed her stick at your parents and spoke.

"your contempt for life that does not fit your 'purpose' is an affront for everything your kingdom supposedly stands for. a kingdom i helped your ancestors build. and all i asked in return is for you to remember my terms. to not disrespect me after all i've done. but you have failed. and for this you must be punished."

you were going to call her insane, call the guards to seize her and make an example out of anyone who would threaten and say such baseless claims about your family. you had heard the story of how your ancestors built this kingdom from the ground up hundreds of times, and not once was it mentioned that they received help from a witch.

you weren't afforded time to think it over when her staff pointed at you, her gaze making your blood run cold. the trinkets and bones attached to the end of the warped dark stick brimming with glowing tendrils of magic.

"your daughter, such beauty, such grace, such a beacon of what your family stands for," she taunts and moves her head side to side as she mocks you. "i will give you a choice. your daughter or your kingdom."

you scoff at her and the panicked whispers from the commoners and guards around you. this is bullshit. for all you knew she was nothing but a druid playing dress up, most likely hurt that her flower farm was torn up in one of your father's recent expansion projects.

"this is crazy, we all know this is crazy, right?" your head whips to stare at your parents, who won't even look you in the eye. you start to feel sick, refusing to believe for a second that they could actually be considering this. "mother, father!"

your father raises his hand and the room goes quiet. he stands, an imposing figure by himself, and his cloaks and crown make him more so. the family crest glimmers from his chest, a golden dragon with its wings bared. you try to remember what it stands for to quell the fear in your chest.

your family is strong, your family has knowledge that goes beyond others, your family is more powerful than this pathetic pretender-

"please, just...just don't hurt her, we beg."

your eyes strain at the sight of your father, the king, on his knees with his hands clasped together.

he's pleading with her. this woman is threatening your life and he's begging to her.

you only manage to have one last thought before you're enclosed in a cloud of black and feel your body being ripped through space.

your family is fucking stupid.

your new life is far from what you're used to, but you become suspicious of how pampered elisia - the hag - has made everything for you.

you live in a tower, a tall and black and imposing thing that if you weren't a damn hostage you'd probably think thrice about entering. it stood at the top of an abandoned keep you think you'd heard of in another bedtime story, something about an ogre and a damsel…whatever.

elisia had made it extremely clear that there would be no way for you to escape. her magic would keep the place functional while she was gone; the dark halls lit up, kitchen stocked, library filled. but try to navigate the gigantic lower level that led to the exit and you’d end up in an endless loop that left you feeling dizzy enough to give up for the day.

(for good measure the keep was also situated on a crumbling mountain above a pit of actual lava. have to applaud her efficiency.)

but then you asked if she had planned on you going insane, as would eventually happen if you were left here alone.

the sound of her cackle rang in your head for a few days.

‘what makes you think you're alone in here?’

the cloth of your bed was soft, the gentle canopy making you long for the glamorous and full one you'd had at home. but even the mocking familiarity couldn’t rouse you into sleep that night. every tumble of a rock echoed throughout the halls of the prison that was now your home, making vomit rise in your throat as you remembered the witch’s words.

you tried to calm yourself down, convincing yourself she only alluded to another thing being here to scare you. for the first day you tried to follow your daily schedule as well as possible. wake up, clean and dress yourself, eat some breakfast, focus on hobbies and interests, tea in the garden, etcetera.

but to say it was a struggle is an understatement. you forgot how everything was made easier by your maids and lady’s in waiting, having issue with just doing your hair alone. you didn’t even want to begin on breakfast, fighting with the damned bewitched oven and settling for a fruit salad.

and so you stick to reading, it’s not like you need help doing that. it reminds you of when you were younger and your governess would call out “sick” and when a replacement was being prepared you’d wait on the cushy classroom chaise and read and read and read until your eyes started to hurt.

and now you’ve resorted to reading a cookbook. you’re halfway through a recipe for grilled cheese when you hear it, the displacement of rock in the walls and a dull, eerie humming. you feel the goosebumps rise on your skin and try your best not to let your fear show as you pass a quick glance up at the doorway.

and an eye is staring right back at you.

the book falls from your hands and hits the ground with a hard smack, throwing you from holding the eyes gaze as you make sure it’s alright before looking back at the doorway, only to find nothing there.

this is getting weird. and unsettling. and annoying. and so you muster up all the foolish courage you can, pick your dress up by the hem, and chase after the creature.

you recognize it’s not the smartest idea, chasing after something potentially dangerous and definitely stalking you. but if it’s resorted to staring at you from doorways it can’t be prone to violence. hopefully. curse your father for burdening you with his impatience. and dimwittedness, apparently.

whatever the thing is its fucking fast, tucking and weaving around corners almost faster than you can keep up with.

(you mentally thank your fitness educator for making you routinely run laps around the gardens when you became too lazy for your parents liking back when you were twelve. sucks you’ll never see her again, she was always funny.)

the mysterious being messes up and you cheer to yourself when you hear it stop itself from crashing into the wall.

“hah! looks like you’ve-“

gods above you must look like a dunce, panting in the middle of this dark hallway as you stare at the big bad that was staring at you in your entrapment. but it’s not what you expect. it’s not a monster, or a creature, or the angel of death here to free you from the torment of boredom.

it’s a woman. a devil woman. a very large and disturbingly attractive devil woman.

gods above, you’d been involuntarily celibate for far too long.

it’s clear she’s not going to start conversation first, appearing as if she’d rather sink into the walls themselves than explain herself to you.

“are we going to keep staring at each other or are you going to explain why you’re stalking me?”

“i’m not stalking you!” she blurts, clearly annoyed by your accusation. well, if she only responded to being called a pervert you’d just have to deal with that.

“you were standing in the doorway and ogling me as i was reading, sounds pretty stalkerish to me.”

“that’s not- i wasn’t ogling-“

“and you’ve clearly been in here with me a while, i’ve heard that weird humming and seen that light before. why not introduce yourself if you weren’t being a creep?”

“i’m not a stalker! i’m supposed to be here!” her eye twitches and you figured you’ve pushed her far enough to the truth. you didn’t want to annoy her too much, the giant woman looked like she could snap you in half with ease.

no, don’t think about that. stop staring at her muscles. stop it-

maybe she notices your silence or maybe she notices how you are not no politely checking her out, because she takes the infernal axe off her back, - which you hadn’t even noticed, survival skills going down the drain - sets it gently on the ground, and slowly starts to walk towards you.

you try your best not to show weakness or fear as she approaches, clearly trying to show you she doesn’t mean to harm you. she could have easily harmed you earlier when you chased her like a mad woman through the keep, and you start to feel a bit flushed with embarrassment.

“i can kind of explain why i’m here, if you’d like. somewhere more comfortable preferably.”

she leads you back to the kitchen and the whole time your eyes never leave her body, taking in every detail you can to try to piece together her story.

she has numerous scars starting from her face and trailing down her body, the gaps in her leather outfit letting you see the raised veins and literal vents in her arm and shoulder. add the injuries and incredibly well defined muscles together and it’s not hard to figure this woman is no strain her to hard battle, and could easily overpower you if she so desired.

(yet again you have to trample your inner libido at the thought. you need to get out of this place and fast.)

once in the kitchen, you both shit down and you listen as she tells you everything you want to know, answering every question you have without failure.

“what’s your name?”

“karlach. named after my mum. what’s yours?”

“princess y/n of tuquestia. are you a devil?”

“an actual princess, eh? here i thought that old witch was exaggerating. and no, i’m a tiefling. blame the burning skin and engine on that bitch downstairs mizora.”

“mizora? why the hell would you get mixed up with her?”

“i didn’t ask to. it’s a long story. i think your foods burning, love.”

“gods damn it. whatever. why are you here? how long have you been here?”

“guess that wicked witch is old buddies with my devil because they made some bet way back when that if she managed to screw over some kingdom they both hate mizora would give up one of her best soldiers to help her.”

“so what, your an extra ounce of protection to make sure i don’t jump out of a window?”

“guess i am. and please don’t, wouldn’t end well for either of us.”

after an hour of trying to make a simple meal and glaring at karlach whenever she’d tease you, a warmth bloomed in your chest uncaused by the infernal being across from you. until that point you had pondered when the effect of the endless days of loneliness would seep in, when you'd start talking to visions in your mind before slowly going insane.

but now you had karlach. big, loud, always yapping karlach.

you didn't have many friends back home. you had your handmaidens who were respectful but always too careful, brief flings from when you snuck out to the local towns taverns and polite conversations with visiting monarchs and royals. but never a true friend.

so you’re unable to tell if the way karlach acts is…normal. it’s not like she’s just standing behind and watching you as you try to live your life during the day. not that you’d mind that much.

it’s quite the opposite; she’s always talking. maybe it’s because during your first conversation you made a one off comment of resorting to talking to an old teddy bear you’d found in your closet for company, but there doesn’t go a minute where’s she doesn’t just strike up a conversation with you.

she asks what your home is like, how did you grow up, what it was like to be a princess (that ‘was’ stung more than you expected), if you ever had any pets, any friends, a boyfriend.

you’d snorted at that, telling her if there’s one thing you were grateful to your parents for it was respecting your preference for women. she goads you to go on and listens intently to your story of the time you and a neighboring princess got caught in the quite the situation behind one of the curtains at a large gala…

you figure it’s only polite to ask her all of her questions back, and clearly it’s the right option since each time you do her face lights up almost literally and she animatedly explains every little detail of her life and adventures before she got screwed over and stuck in avernus.

and oh, avernus. if there’s one thing to smack you into reality it’s when she finally deems you trustworthy enough to tell you how exactly she’d become one of mizoras best. you were not the least bit surprised that someone like gortash would screw her over.

(you’d only met him once at your parents invitation and faked food poisoning when he had asked you for a dance. karlach laughed so hard at that her fingers scorched the table you were sitting at. it felt in that moment that you’re stomach was even warmer than her.)

but when she explained everything after he gave her up, the pain of being taken from her home, having her heart replaced, turned into a killing machine and mistaken for a devil, your heart ached. all you wanted was to reach out and touch her, to place at least a comforting hand on her shoulder, but another pain she felt was going without contact with anyone because of her engine.

your old sociology instructor would weep in joy if she could see you know, mourning for the life of someone you just met could have had. all you wanted wasnt to escape this tower, or to wear the latest dress made custom by your tailor and drink some of the not sneakily hidden wine in the kitchens stone walls. it’s just to make her feel better.

so you come up with a plan. probably not the smartest one, but the only one that’ll get you results quickly.

you go about the morning as normal. wake up, clean yourself, meet karlach in the kitchen for breakfast. easy peasy.

now there’s just manning up and going through with this. you had told karlach you were making omelets, the tiefling practically bouncing in her seat as she cleaned off her axe while she wanted. as soon as you could tell she was distracted, you raised the vegetable cutting knife to your hand, took on a deep breath, and then-

“fuck!” her head jerked up at your cry, body standing up on automatically as she watched you cradle your hand to your chest and keel over. she goes to place a hand on your back to help you up and see what’s wrong when she stops herself, so close she can nearly feel the fabrics of your dress brush against her skin.

“damn it, princess. um, ok, it’s not too deep, i’ll get you a towel.” she rushes around the kitchen, searching for a piece of cloth to help you with your wound. but once she sees one sitting not even two feet from you by the fireplace, she’s stopped from alerting you by a swooshing air coming in from the hall, specks of magic floating through the air.

“what on earth are you doing?” elisia‘s voice comes out in a screech, looking like a cloud of darkness as her tall frame draped in black cloaks moves into the kitchen with a quickness. she’s just as quick to dig her nails into your wrist and bring your injured hand up to her face, ignoring your whimper that sends a pang of worry into karlach.

“what, are you turning into an idiot like your father? how can you be so inept?”

“ok ok, it was just an accident!”

she spits out a curse in a language you don't understand and drops your wrist, ignoring your grunt of pain. “the whole point of this is for you to be trapped here, not for you to end your life because of pure foolishness.”

her eyes zip to karlach, and you admire how the tiefling doesn't stand down to the hag's piercing gaze, squaring her shoulders almost like she is preparing for a fight.

“you. did you forget about our precious zariel’s little gift?” elisia smiles down at karlach’s chest, which noticeably glows brighter as her frustration rises. “one touch and you could have burned it closed. do you enjoy watching my hostage bleed out on the stone?”

“i don't think making her pass out and likely die from excruciating pain is in your plans either. i can't help her if i can't touch her without endangering her life!”

the echo of her booming voice leads to an eerie silence, both of you waiting for what elisia says next. your eyes meet from across the room, glowing amber trailing down to your hand before you give a quick nod to let her know you’re okay.

elisia groans, tapping her staff on one of the sturdy counters. “fine. what do you need in order to do what you’re here for?”

”i…i need an engine upgrade. just enough to be able to make contact.” you can't help but notice the tick in karlach’s voice, a slight glimmer of hope at just the idea that she’ll be able to touch someone again, even if it’s just you.

“you’ll still be able to use it as protection, yes?”

karlach nods, and after a few seconds of contemplation, the witch wordlessly disappears into a plume of smoke.

“do you think she’ll consider it?” you question, voice strained as the stinging of your palm reaches a new high. in a rush the woman is collecting the things needed to take care of your wound, gesturing for you to sit on top of the table while she helps as much as she can without hurting you further.

“focus on me, yeah? it’ll be over in a second.” she holds a bottle of alcohol over your hand waiting for your confirmation that she can pour it on the slash to sterilize it. you wish you could say you reacted gracefully, but based on her facial reaction it’s safe to assume the sound you cried was anything but pretty. quickly she guides you to dry it off and wrap it in a bandage, a sigh of relief escaping you when the would is properly covered.

“thank you. sorry if i made you worried, didn’t mean to cut so deep. still not very good with knives.”

“of course i worried, you’re - wait, you did this on purpose?”

you give her a sheepish smile as she stares at you in shock, eyes darting from your hand to multiple spots on your face before she bursts into a loud laughter, your body going stark straight from the surprise of her mood shifting so suddenly.

“glad to know i was right about there being something more than air in that head of yours, princess. now i’m aware you’re also crazy.”

“hey, it worked didnt it? now you’ll get your engine upgrade, and you’ll finally be able to touch me.”

“yeah looking forward to wrangling your stubborn ass from trying to find more secret tunnels in your bedroom.”

“i know they exist! what keep doesn’t have a secret tunnel?”

you’re thrown into a playful argument about how she’s certain that secret tunnels that you remembered dearly from your old castle wouldn’t be in every type of royal origin, while you try to persuade her it’s basically an untold law for building a keep.

all the while she’s trying to ignore how the light of the fireplace brings out the warmness of your skin, while you decide not to bring up how to the idea of touching you made her bite her lip and stutter her breath.

karlach gets her upgrade sooner than later, the itch appearing with a nice but scared-looking tiefling who uses a strange-looking metal to fix karalch up. you can tell she's trying to stay calm through the endeavor, not wanting g to risk the poor man due to her excitement. and the whole time you stay by her side, eyes trained on the rather strange way the procedure is done.

but once its done she stands there, almost unable to believe what she hopes to be true. she turns her body to face yours, eyes near begging for either of you to do something when you wrap your arms around her neck and push your body into hers.

and gods, is she warm. like cuddling up with a wool blanket in bed during the chilling midsts of winter. you can tell your sudden act of affection scared her at first, but once she realizes whats happening she wraps her arms around your waist so tightly it feels like shes trying to fuse you into one.

you hear elisia in the back, groaning at the act before leaving with the stranger in a hurry. when their footsteps are no longer heard karlach lifts your body up with ease, twirling you around before setting your body back to the floor.

her chest is having, excitement coursing through her body as flames rise and retreat from the vents in her shoulders.

“i cant believe it. i never thought i would- that you and i could-”

she cuts herself off with the most joyous laugh you've heard from her yet, pulling you into another hug and burying her face into your shoulder, minding not to scratch you with her horn.

its almost adorable how cuddly karlach becomes after that; a giant war fighting barbarian nervously asking if she can receive a random hug in the middle of the day, standing behind you as she makes sure you're following the steps of a recipe you found, even indulging you when you ask for her hands to warm your stomach when your moon week arrives.

only two weeks after her upgrade do you realize that you have feelings for her. maybe you've known for longer, only denying it in the fear that you'd lose the only true friend you'd ever had. even if she didn't return your affections, the reasonable part of you knew she would never turn you down in a harsh way. but you knew yourself, and knew the embarrassment would lead to you distancing yourself from her and ignoring her at any chance possible, which was the opposite of what both of you needed at this time.

you try your hardest not to make it obvious, but when she catches your eyes lingering on her a few times too long she decides she cant ignore it any longer, choosing to finally have that long awaited talk with you before you head to sleep.

she was escorting you from the library back up to your room for the night, gently guiding you with a large palm on your back while your attention was focused on a book you had found deep in the history shelves. it was endearing, how you'd pay little attention to where you were going and nearly trip over a stair before cursing it under your breath.

“i knew you were a bit of a history buff, darling, but you cant exactly learn if you give yourself a concussion.” karlach smiles.

you don't reply, mumbling something about being too engrossed in the text. with a choked back laugh she shakes her head and bends down to pick you up, one arm under your back and the other under your legs. she can see your eyes widen over the edge of the pages before going back to what you were doing. once she reaches your door she not-so-delicately kicks it open before placing you on your bed, bending down to start helping you take off your slippers.

once she's done she starts to look up at you when she takes a quick glance around your room. she’s only been in here a few times, when you’d fall asleep hunched over a tome in the library and she had to gracefully put you in your bed. there isn’t much in here save for the bed and a simple closet. but her eyes catch on the tally’s you’ve been keeping on the wall, inching closer and closer to the three month mark.

she starts to second guess herself. why would you have any feelings other then basic ones of friendship with her, a barbarian ordered to prevent you from leaving a tower you were trapped in? as much as you tried to hide it it was clear how much you missed your home, your parents, the grand lifestyle in which you were raised.

she’s about to make a quick exit after asking if you need anything else when you're doing it again: staring into her soul like you apparently so enjoy doing.

“is there anything else you need, princess?”

you feel a sharp pull below your stomach, not expecting the effect her words would have on your body, only increased by the feel of her large hand still around your ankle, the heat radiating from her and hitting you full force as whatever shes feeling grows in intensity. you gently reach a hand up to feel over the ridges of her cut horn, down to the slit in her eyebrow and the shaved cut of her hair. the whole time she waits, chest rising and falling as she tries to keep her composure while your touch continues its journey down and down until your gentle fingers are grazing over the curve of her nose and her lips.

you finally kiss her, and despite how damned good it feels she can't help but feel bad about how desperately she wants so much more. with all the carefulness she can muster she kisses you deeper, pulling you to the edge of the bed so that your legs are on both sides of her body.

“karlach, please…” you whine out into the quiet room, eyes closed at the bliss of her pressing her body closer to yours, her mouth deciding to start kissing down your throat when you stop kissing her to speak her name. not like she seems to mind, for every time you moan out her nails dig into the fat of your hips through your dress.

“gods, i’m so glad i was right. knew you wanted me, i had hoped you did.” her words are muffled by a quick bite to your throat, her mind going blank at the high pitched moan you let out at the press of her sharp teeth into your skin. she sucks a few more marks into the flesh before dragging her tongue in a line from the bottom of your neck back to your chin, staring into your eyes once she stops.

“clothes. clothes off, now.”

she obeys your demand, standing straight up to start working at her boots before tugging off her shirt like it’ll burn her, your slight giggling doing nothing to help her speed. once she’s done she looks back down at you, rolling her eyes to the sight of you laid pretty on your stomach, arms cushioning your head as you wait for her to undo the basic laces on your dress.

“you really are a spoiled princess, huh?” karlachs deep laugh does nothing to stop the need growing inside you, and neither does the feel of her hands ghosting over your back.

“don’t be mad just because i know my worth, brute.”

you can only let out a gasp when her fingers dig into the fabric and rip it down the middle, yanking the ruined dress out from under you. she waste no time in getting you into the position she wants, spreading your legs apart and pushing you down by the middle of your back.

“if i’m being too rough you’ll tell me, yeah?” you weakly nod your head from its place in your covers, but with a small pinch to the left cheek of your ass you know that was the wrong answer. “give me words, baby.”

“yeah, yes, fuck i will.” you don’t have time to be embarrassed by the desperation in your voice, since as soon as the affirmation leaves your mouth her fingers are spreading apart the lips of your cunt and licking a hard slow line up into you.

if she wasn’t explicitly put inside this keep to keep you safe you would have thought she was trying to kill you in the most euphoric way possible. she eats you like she’s starving and isn’t sure when she’s going to eat again. you then remember that before you the last time she slept with someone else was back when she was free in baldurs gate, so a decades worth of longing and lust has been steadily building inside her body.

and now she’s going to take all of it out on you. the thought just makes more cum run down your legs, eagerly caught by the hot mass of her tongue.

you thought she’d be more talkative but instead she’s laser focused on your center; she spreads you farther and farther to get a better view of you, rubbing at your clit with her wide thumb before pinching it when you wiggle your hips back at her. she ignores your whines in favor for drawing those deep sounds from the inside of your chest when she takes the bud inside her mouth and sucks, pulling roughly until your legs start to shake.

“karlach, fuck ‘m close, ‘m close!”

“that’s it, come on princess, cum for me. cum so i can split you open around me and make you mine.”

and like she’s a god that commands it you do, back arching near painfully as your hands fist the sheets and your throat goes raw with the force of your moan bordering on a scream. the whole time she refuses to slow down, sucking even harder as you cum so hard you fear you’ll pass out.

a minute later your high starts to die down, slick covering your thighs and a light sheen of sweat coating the rest of your body. you knew you’d been pent up these past few weeks with only your hand and pillow for satisfaction, but that was…intense.

you feel karlach pressing light kisses to your backside, leaving more little bites and marks around your hips and up your back. she briefly settles her body on top of yours, and while the weight and feel of her sends fireworks up to your brain and down to your cunt, the warmth of her is making the sweat on your back feel even worse, a pout forming on your lips.

“mmm, you’re hot.”

“glad you noticed.” she laughs, the deep timber of it rumbling through her body and into yours. for a brief second, you think you’d like to feel it for the rest of your life. the thought of it only makes you more desperate, trying to burrow your face deeper into the bed.

“think you can handle another? or does the princess need her bath and rest already?”

with a newfound determination, you try your best to lift her off of you, pushing your hips back into hers in the hopes she’ll feel enough pity to give in and roll off of you. instead, you get the opposite, both of you moaning at the grind of your ass against her groin. and fuck, does she feel big. bigger than you've ever taken, and there were some heavy hitters at the tavern you'd frequently sneak out to. soldiers who were big and strong and looking for a pretty thing to make their troubles go away for the night.

and now you had the upgraded model of all of them combined in front of you, lips still covered in your cum as she stared at your body like she wanted nothing more than to get her hands on it and not let go until she was fully sated. you crane your neck back and up to kiss her, tasting yourself as the two of you share a sweet yet intimate kiss, tongues fighting for dominance before you give up and let her win, hips continuing to buck when her long muscle pushes its way into your mouth and starts to explore.

you can only hold on to your small amount of patience for so long, and karlach starting to suck and bite at your tongue isn't helping in the slightest. your hands desperately reach up to grab at her, any part of her you can reach. you grasp helplessly at her large hand that's gently wrapped around your throat, her claws just barely scratching the sides. she squeezes the tiniest bit and you nearly cum from that alone.

“aw, you’re so desperate for it, aren't you baby?” she chuckles, loosening her grip so you can give a weak ‘mhm’ in response. “tell me what you want and it's yours.”

you tilt your head back farther, big wet eyes staring back at hers and clearly having the desired effect if her lip bite and groan are any indication.

“just want you. want you inside me so badly it hurts.”

in under a second her strong arms are flipping you around like it is nothing, spreading your legs and holding them up for you to hold, your brain instantly following her lead and doing as she intends. while you do that her hands are busy pushing the fabric of her pants down her hips, throwing them to the floor with a huff before she settles back in front of you, staring at you as you stare at her. well, a part of her.

she takes a few seconds to revel in the attention you’re giving her, pretty eyes trailing up and down her body, spread out oh so obediently for her while you willingly give yourself to her to indulge in. she’ll have to remember to tell you how much it means to her in the morning because all she can focus on now is fucking you until the both of you pass out.

and so she fits herself into place, swollen thighs helping to keep yours apart as a red hand goes to align herself with your entrance, catching your eyes again and waiting for your enthusiastic nod before pushing herself inside. you moan at the combination of pleasure and pain, grip on your legs faltering as your head falls back onto the bed. karlach isn’t doing better, moaning at the same time as you at the feeling of finally getting to be inside you.

“gods-fuck,” she groans, pushing her hips further until she’s finally fit her entire length inside of you. you’re given a few moments to adjust, but impatient as ever you buck your hips, whining as despite the fullness it’s still not enough.

she smiles, resting her body on top of yours, throwing your legs over her shoulders, and kisses you before starting to thrust at a speed that makes your eyes cross.

there are no words to describe how it makes you feel, just like there are no words you’re able to speak as she wrecks you oh so beautifully and oh so roughly. the only sounds in the room are the rough plap plap plap’s of her thighs meeting yours, the wet sounds of her length coming in and out of you, and the squeaky moans being exerted from your chest that had your cheeks hot to the touch.

needing to ground yourself you reach out for any part of her you can, fight hand gripping around the thick keratin of her horn. your left can only grip onto the stub of her other one, but as your nails dig into the skin at the bottom of it a loud cry leaves the barbarian as she somehow makes her thrusts hit even deeper.

you can’t even begging to imagine what you look like, the (former?) esteemed and regal crown princess spread out and moaning at the top of your lungs as a blood war fighting tiefling barbarian fucks you six ways into next sunday. but with each passing minute of her dick pressing into that oh so good spot inside of you, you can’t find it in you to care. you deserve this. karlach deserves this.

and gods is it so hot to see how much she takes advantage. she has all the stamina of a titan, only momentarily stopping her brutal pace to make sure your weak legs stay up and apart. if you didn’t know any better you’d think she was in a trance, gaze fixed on the sight between the both of your legs.

with a gentle tug on her horns you bring her head back up to look at you, those beautiful amber eyes droopy as her mouth falls open in another moan. you whine and yank slightly harder, pursing your lips at her confused face when you realize you’re still unable to communicate anything other than squeaks.

she brings her lips to yours so fast your heads bump, both of you giggling into the kiss. despite the continued frenzied movements below its sweet and intimate, a soft and fuzzy feeling growing in your chest as she pulls away and starts to press short kissed to your lips and cheeks.

“feels so good, princess, you’re so damn good.” she pants, resting her head in the crok of your neck. the small bit of praise makes you whine and clench around her, her thrusts stuttering for a moment before she digs her knees harder in the bed to make up for the extra resistance.

“aww, you like that?”

you turn your head in the opposite way out of embarrassment, hoping she’ll drop it and bring her focus back to the view of how her cock gradually comes back sticker each time she pulls out of you. instead she nudges her forehead into your chin, bringing your eyesight back to her.

“you like to act like a brat but you just wanna be all good and pretty for me, don’t you? it’s alright, you can tell me.”

face scrunching, you scratch your fingers again at the stub of her horn and she lets out a mix between a groan and a laugh, quickly hitting her hand down to the apex of your thighs and rub harsh circles on your clit.

“oh fuck, karlach, fuck!” your words are high and slurred, mind going blank at the pleasure she forces onto you. you feebly try to slow her down, gripping around her wrist to try and calm the overwhelming pressure building up. “i can’t, can’t it’s-“

“cmon baby, can talk a bug game but can’t take it? do it for me, yeah?”

she doesn’t wait for your answer, cutting off any potential sass as her finger rubs faster and harder and she tilts her hips ever so slightly upwards so she’s pressing directly into your spot, and in under a minute you’re clenching around her and nearly losing your mind at the sheer force of your orgasm, too blinded by the pleasure to notice karlachs strained keen as her thrusts come to a halt and the warm feeling of her cum flows inside of you.

she allows you to bask in the euphoric peace between sleep and consciousness for a few minutes, pulling herself out of you and gently shushing you at your strained whimper. her fingers brush away some of the stray sweaty hairs from your forehead and pressing sweet pecks to your cheeks.

“need some help, hun?” she asks, already predicting your tired nod. without a hitch she gently picks you up, not wanting to disturb you from the peaceful state you were currently in. with all the grace of a ghost she carries your limp body to the small bathroom, turns on the enchanted tub faucet, and gently placed your in the warm water with her sat behind you.

you go in and out over the next hour. you remember the feel of her rubbing the sweat off of your skin, her gentle praises whispered into your hair, her body warming up your towel to dry you off before tugging your nightgown over your head. when she rests your body on tops of hers on your bed, with the gentle hum of her engine calling you to slumber, your final thought is that you wouldn’t mind staying in this tower a little longer.

for the next few weeks everything is nothing short of perfect. the introduction of romance only brings the two of you closer, never going more than an hour separated. its nice to pretend that the two of you aren’t trapped and are instead two lovers on a really weird vacation, spending your days eating magic food, reading books, and making love before doing it all again the next. day.

elisia surprisingly only visit once, silent as a ghost when she appeared in the doorway of the simple chamber room when karlach had decided to join you on a small couch while you were napping, staring at the both of you silently before huffing and leaving in a plume of smoke.

now, you've always been a deep sleeper, something that worried your parents in infancy but became something they were glad for when they heard comparisons to babies that cried all throughout the night. as soon as your head hit a pillow? it was lights out, your body quickly drifting off into a peaceful slumber until you were ready to arise exactly eight hours later.

when you finally start gaining those first few bits of consciousness you feel floaty, high off of what happened the night before, and your body ready to cuddle up to the warm and cozy tiefling still in bed with you.

but when your fingers extend to the soft sheets next to you they feel nothing. she's not there.

your body jerks up, grasping the shirts to cover your chest in a grasp for self-comfort as you look around your room, which is also empty.

you know logically she’s probably off for a short while to get something to eat or doing her daily rounds around the keep, your brain coming up with any scenario other than ‘regretted last night and left you in the dust.’.

before you can come up with more ways to drive yourself crazy, you can hear faint noises in the distance and below you - metal clashing, grunts of exertion, before the sound of someone hitting the wall so roughly that there's no way they didn't break any bones rouses you from your bed, quickly throwing a robe over your body before rushing down the spiraled stairs.

you let out a shrill shriek when a large airborne object nearly takes your head clean off as soon as your foot touches the last step, heart racing so quickly you fear you’ll pass out. your eyes focus on the space in front of you as you quickly try to figure out what danger has entered your ‘home.’

karlach, dressed only in her small sleeping top and trousers is rigid and staring straight at you, clearly disturbed by your scream and unmoving until your subtle nod lets her know you’re unharmed, she has a few bumps and scrapes including a long bleeding gash on her arm, blood trickling down until it reaches her fingers which are gripped around one of the large kitchen knives.

you don't need to ask what the danger is because it'd be hard to miss it even if you were blind. there's a knight standing just a few feet away from her, donned in shining silver armor and holding a similar shining steel sword. his helmet has been thrown aside to reveal an admittedly dashing face and blonde mane, the stereotypical look of a prince charming.

well. charming until he opens his mouth.

“princess y/n! finally, i have found you! your father the king has been contacting numerous kingdoms to track you down and bring you home safely. don't worry about this beast, i will slay it and you will finally be safe from your captors!”

“oh you want a beast i’ll show you a beast, pretty boy-” karlach moves to attack the knight before you step in front of her, placing a gentle hand on her chest to stop her in her tracks.

“how did you get in here, sir?”

“its sir garrick, your highness…” the man answers, eyes flicking between you and the hand you have on karlachs chest. you don't care to move it, though.

“and how did you get in here? you just.. walked through the drawbridge? no other obstacles?”

he nods. and though its an answer it does nothing to help you or karlach answer the question on your minds.

“do you reckon she’s dead?” karlach asks.

“i doubt we could be that lucky.” you roll your eyes and turn to face her, the woman relaxed at your touch but still on guard because the knight is still staring at the two of you like he just saw an owl bear pick up a lute and start singing. you do suppose this was rather odd, a lost princess found in a tower and gravitating to the giant barbaric tiefling rather than the knight in shining armor.

when you look into karlach’s eyes you can see a glimmer of hope inside of them, just the same as when you revealed your feelings for one another and when she’d tell you her dreams of returning to her home city again in the dead of night.

“well clearly she allowed this guy to get in here, or else he’d probably have a goats head and a cows arse by now-“

“excuse me, what’d you say?”

“which means she might allow us to leave, right? probably with some invisible strings attached?” karlach’s hand lightly grips your waist, her smile wide as she even considers the possibility of the both of you leaving.

and while you try your hardest to outwardly match her enthusiasm, your mind is racing with questions and hypotheticals. this woman had a vendetta against your father, went through the trouble to take one of zariels prized soldiers and have her watch over you day in and day out, and now you could just…walk out?

karlach goes to retrieve some proper clothing while you and the ever-so-confused knight stay where you are, the man thankfully answering every question you have while you wait for your companion to come back. you can tell he desperately wants to ask about your closeness, subtly reminding you that he's been trained to take on large threats in enclosed spaces, even fighting numerous devils in his travels. you ignore it as your mind continues to race with the possibilities of what could happen when you walk through that door, if this is all some sick joke and as soon as you walk through the doorway you’ll throw up your own guts.

but it fades when karlach comes bounding back down, fully geared and with a small bag slung over her shoulder, failing to hide the optimistic smile on her face. her large hand encloses around yours, and you cant help but to return the smile and grip her hand just the slightest bit harder.

“alright pretty boy, show us the way home.”

the knight hurriedly nods and starts towards the entrance. when you reach the large stone door, the one you've stared at so many times with despair in your heart, its indescribable the feeling you have when the sun hits your face and the sounds of birds tweeting fills your ears.

karlach is shaking your hand, smile wide and eyes bright at she looks up at the sky for the first time in a decade. as you start to walk she rambles about all the foods she cant wait to try, visiting her home city again, sleeping in a real bed for once, and all you can think is that you would stick yourself in that tower again just to keep her by your side.

[mamayura]

Okay, yeah, I genuinely think that we will once again go back to this time period after the season 5 finale and before season 6

There are too many crucial things the special either left out or even contradicts with information we get in the last scenes of season 5 which takes place right before the new school year, whereas the special is right BEFORE the summer break. In France that break is 3 months, but even if it's not that real life number, then its was still the summer break and we obviously still need answers to unanswered questions.

Let's start with the most obvious thing:

1. How did Cerise get the Butterfly

We didn't see when or how Cerise got the Butterfly Miraculous and what on EARTH she did in the Agreste Mansion if she supposedly didn't watch the last battle and therefore SOMEHOW still doesn't know who Ladybug is.

Say "it's bad writing" all you want, but not explaining that AT ALL is a new level of neglectful. They didnt had to have her be there for almost the entire end battle. And SOME explanation is due to HOW she got the Butterfly.

Especially because

2. We never saw Marinette looking for it

At the end of season 5 Marinette explains that she turned into Aquabug and looked for the Butterfly, but couldn't find it.

I know its easy now to just say "Marinette is lying through her teeth", but this is something where it makes no sense for it to be a lie. A moment like this HAD to have happened, and I think it was hinted at in the special:

I think THIS is where her searching as Aquabug must have taken place, too, and it's why she afterwards runs crying to Nathalie.

It must have because right afterwards Marinette holds the press conference where she already states that the Butterfly is lost. AND Marinette at no point in the special is shocked or confused about the Butterfly being gone. We never get the moment of Marinette realising she forgot to look for the Butterfly and then her not finding it.

The special just smoothly transitions into her already knowing it's gone and not being surprised when it's already somehow in a villain's hand.

Combine this with us not having seen what Cerise did in the Mansion and how she even got the Butterfly, then yeah, I'm fully convinced that we'll be coming back to this, even if it's maybe gonna be in season 7 bc the show is frustrating like that.

Then of course:

3. Cerise's wish

We never got an explanation what her wish was. We know it was fundamentally changing the course of this time-line, threatening to end this one and creating a new one, but that doesnt mean you can just write it off as "Cerise wanted to nuke reality"

Cause Alix explicitly says that its not THAT dramatic. This wasn't Chat Blanc who almost wiped out all of reality. So Cerise's wish must have been something big, but not reality-shattering.

I would even go so far and say that the point of her using the wish was for the story to already get through with that for her character right away because she won't be after the wish in the show proper the way Gabriel was. That she had to realize that she cant just use the shortcut, because she's supposed to put her head into it and try to accomplish her goal herself. That this is what changed history, her using a shortcut. So her plan from here onwards will show us what she wished for.

---

As of right now, I would even make the argument that Gabriel's wish actually caused Cerise to loose her memory and this was her attempt at getting it back hence why she freaked out the way she did in the end.

Cause remember, she has known for ALL OF SEASON 5 that Gabriel was Monarque. Him being dead should not be the disqualifying factor here. She already KNOWS that. And it makes no sense that she didnt find out who Ladybug is in the Mansion.

So what I've already speculated for a year now is that Gabriel's vague wording of his wish will be the deciding factor here.

Because Gimmie is an individual, too, like all the Kwamis. The all-mighty personification of Reality and yet they're not allowed to actually be part of reality besides for the wish-granting (which Gimmie COMPLAINT about) and even there in their eyes people are asking for a mere grain of sand of the vast potential of Gimmie's power:

Meaning in short: I'm pretty sure we're dealing with genie logic now and Gimmie (aka God, I guess) used Gabriel's AMATEUR mistake of wishing something in the vaguest way possible (Gabriel, you fucking MORON!) and used the massive wiggle room to flex their power a bit and change reality into what they think is fun and interesting to watch play out.

Cause that's what Genie logic is. A genie doesnt fuck people over for no reason. A genie is an ancient and all-mighty being that's locked away, can't use its magic freely, and is dependent on the puny, young, and stupid humans who cant ever see the forest for the trees. Of course they grow bitter and deceitful to be able to live out any individuality and freedom in their awful prison.

Plus, I also find it the fitting route for the show to go that in the end we have to understand and help the abused Kwamis and powerful, but enslaved entities of nature, too. Gimmie is not wrong for being pissed and bitter about their awful prison, we just need to find a better way so Gimmie doesnt do shit like that anymore because of their exclusion in the reality THEY PERSONIFY

4. We never saw Marinette give Adrien back his amok rings

This even contradicts information we got at the end of season 5:

Adrien EXPLICITLY says that when Ladybug gave him his rings, she that this and that. But we SEE her saying it to him but not giving him his rings. So this doesn't check out. Adrien getting his rings is one of the most important moments too that just like the other ones was just skipped past with not so pretty implications.

Not to beat a dead horse, but people are really underplaying the head-fuckery Marinette is doing to Adrien with her STATED INTENTION of changing his memory to something better she decides for him, and especially when this isn't the first time she did this.

Sorry to break it to you guys, but it was already established in "Pretention" that Marinette's go-to solution is telling Adrien lies to make him believe his abuse isn't real and Gabriel is better then he is:

The scene has both Marinette and Adrien acknowledge that Gabriel is being controlling and doesn't allow Adrien his free time anymore so he can't see Marinette anymore. But once Adrien is sad about not being able to stop his father, Marinette does a 180 claiming that his father totally changed and allows him all the freedom he needs. Which he objectively DOESNT and she just pointed that out, too.

This is not some out of character thing Marinette is only now tragically being "abused" into doing by a dead Gabriel. She already did this before. This is nothing new. Its now just taken to a new level.

Combine this with Marinette being the second biggest liar in Miraculous (check out Flightfoot's post about it for more details) and how much she's for example still burring and isolating Chat Noir in lies and secrets so she doesn't feel uncomfortable in what she continues doing to him, even in the special when she just leaves him to believe his absence caused the death of an innocent man who's son is now an orphan

People are really too willing to keep ignoring or downplaying that lying, secret keeping and twisting the truth to her needs has already long become Marinette's default way of doing things.

No, she isn't ill-intentioned, but what Marinette does is incredibly harmful. You dont HAVE to be ill-intentioned to be able to genuinely hurt a person in a way that crosses the line. This is one of Miraculous' worst messages yet through Marinette herself. Saying "I meant well" automatically means the damage doesn't get to count because you felt bad for having done the bad thing so it actually getting to be BAD would be "mean" to YOU.

You can be toxic and hurting someone without meaning to or being "evil". That's why victims end up stuck in such relationships, it's because the person harming them is a 3 dimensional individual. And right now Marinette is pretty much borderlining doing just that and has shown the same tendencies long before the finale and special. This isn't new and was already harmful back then.

And PLEASE stop getting hung up on word definitions. You sound just like an abuse apologist who talks their or a friend's way out of accountability by a damn technicality bc you dont wanna face that you or a person you like can do a genuinely bad thing with no way around it. That it's not just some vague theoretical OTHER person who can do it, but a person in your life.

Now this of course doesn't mean that Marinette is an irredeemable monster (I literally just said that she's a 3 dimensional individual and not il'intentioned) but here is to hope that these ugly sides of Marinette will FINALLY be held to proper standards, so we can finally move past them.

Cause the way this end scene now reads is that after 3 months of summer break Adrien has started to seriously suppress his memories of the finale the way Marinette did in "Derision" because of all the insane trauma and loss he experienced. If Marinette suppressing her memories in "Derision" is valid, I dont wanna hear shit that what Adrien was put through "wasnt bad enough to warrent it". He lost his home bc his father send him away as punishment (yes, sending your child away means the child doesnt get to be in their home. DUH), he was seperated from his girlfriend and friends for what was supposed to at least a year, he had no idea if he would see Nathalie again because of her worsening sickness, his father was sick too, he has no choice whatsoever in his future, and he had nightmares of nuking the world blasted in his brain while being locked and watched in a white cell to be forced into submitting to control.

If Marinette suppressing her memory because she was bullied by Chloe is valid, then dont you dare imply that this isnt. By the end of the summer Adrien's memories could easily have been like a pile of playdoo and Marinette is out here spinning a web of lies that gives her validation in having done the "right" thing because he takes it and smiles.

By all mean, Cerise has all the dirt on Gabriel ever since "Revelation" and now the finale too. Let's just hope that the situation at hand will be taken care of properly instead of insisting that the situation doesnt exist at all. Cause that's not helping anyone.

Marinette's IS an opportunistic comfort liar and maybe if people would stop acting like that makes you a 1 dimensional demon we could actually acknowledge how realistic it is for Marinette to have continued changing how Adrien remembers things here so he's "happier" and Marinette herself can keep telling herself the same lies until she believes it too. Because Marinette does that a lot. It doesn't make her evil, but this is what happens when a person only gets free passes and isn't actually asked to work on themselves:

They get worse and so are the consequences of their actions on other people. Just like it should be with anybody else, it takes A LOT to actually cross the point of no return, but you cant just say "I'm a complex human being, so it can never be me". Cause that's actually the quickest way for you to end up acting in a way that no one should have to forgive you for. No matter the good intentions.

I've come to accept the solid likelihood that now Marinette and Cerise have switched roles in their established dynamic. Now Cerise is going to try and out the liar and Marinette will continue lying to cover herself.

Cause you also have to remember that Marinette just left the new villain with every other information in the notebook. She just took out her name, that's it. It is now unfortunately very likely that we'll get the dynamic from Ladybug and Chrysalis (if that's still her name) that Cerise will publicly try and reveal Ladybug's lies but Marinette will just assumes that this person can reveal the truth however she likes and Marinette as Ladybug will just claim something else everytime because she knows that most people will blindly believe Ladybug as authority and greatest hero ever.

Dont act like this hasnt been consistently built up for the last two seasons now of how Marinette uses her position of power. This is not out of nowhere and even the special only goes further in that direction with that "Only Ladybug will hold the truth and decide for the world what it is" speech.

You do you, but I will not ignore what I'm seeing. I'll instead try and figure out how there can be a happy ending despite of this being the direction of the show.

[hexgirl13]

leon kennedy with a fuggler obsessed gf

wc: 677

i've been obssessed with leon and fugglers, so i thought why not combine them. this was kind of written with re2r leon in mind, but you can imagine any leon if you want! also, there is no outbreak in this!

it had been a long day for leon. chasing after and catching criminals wasn’t easy. especially when most of them were double his size. not to mention the constant teasing his fellow officers would inflict upon him. despite all this, though, being a cop was still something he thoroughly enjoyed. it was his one big dream that he finally accomplished. however, this feeling could never compare to the ones he felt for you.

everytime that office clock striked 5:00, he was rushing out of the precinct. knowing that in just 15 minutes he’d be reunited with you. today was no different. he came home, shrugging off his jacket, hanging it up on the coat stand. then he quickly kicked off his shoes, before practically running down the halls to find you. “baby?” he called out. “where are you?”

the two of you lived in a small apartment, so there weren’t many places for you to be at. if you weren't in the living room, you were in your guys’ shared room. peeking his head inside the room, that's exactly where he found you. you were sitting atop the bed, dressed in one of his old shirts from when he was in the academy. the stress in his body almost seemed to immediately melt away. “there you are, baby,” he said with a smile. he walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you. “i missed you- oh my god! what the hell is that?” he yelled in surprise.

you looked at him over your shoulder. “huh? what do you mean, babe?” you asked, almost as if you were confused.

“i mean, that,” he said, pointing at the green plush in your hand. “why do their teeth look like that? and did you put your lashes on it?”

“first off, it's a fuggler, and their teeth are supposed to look like that. and yes, i did.”

“more like fugly,” he muttered. he couldn’t take his eyes away from it. “why did you get it?”

“well, i saw it on tiktok, and i was like, i need to have it. so i went out to the stores and found this one! it's not the one i wanted, but i still love it nonetheless. her name is daisy,” you rambled, a small smile on your face while you did so. leon loved seeing you so happy, even over something so creepy.

“baby, you named it?” he asked with a chuckle.

“of course i did! why wouldn't i?” you asked incredulously.

leon’s chuckle then turned into a full on belly laugh. “oh, baby, i love you so much,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

despite dating for almost two years, you still blushed everytime he said he loved you. “i love you too. do you like her though?” you asked, holding up the fuggler.

“yes, baby, i do. she kinda scares me, but she’s… cute. in her own special way. just like you,” he replied, now tilting your head back to kiss your lips.

was the fuggler weird? yes. but, in the most loving way possible, so were you. it fit you and your personality so much. he loved the things that made you happy, and if it was this little thing, then he wouldn't want it any other way.

a few days later

you just came home from doing some errands. you were completely tired and wanted nothing more than to collapse into your bed. leon had texted you that he was heading out to get some dinner and would be back soon. after putting away the groceries you just bought, you headed towards the bedroom.

on your side of the bed was a new fuggler. not just any fuggler though, but it was the fuggler. the little black bat that you had wanted. there was a note placed beside it that read:

i found this at the store for you yesterday. i know you've been wanting it and i hope you love it, baby.

leon ♡

(p.s. we should name him gerald)

[no-thanks-im-stuffed]

I have a Gravity Falls Theory I've been meaning to write down for a WHILE so here goes:

Stanford Pines is no genius and I'm gonna pick apart every single one of "Ford's" scientific inventions/accomplishments to prove it.

Grab a beverage, this is gonna be a long one

[Gravity Falls spoilers, a little bit of The Book of Bill]

Contents:

Ford's "Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness"

Codes and Secrets

Inventions

Ford's Tragic Backstory

McGucket

Why Would He Do This??

After Weirdmageddon

TLDR

1. Ford's "Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness"

I can support most of my claims with the help of Journal 3. Unless Ford had actual, scientific research papers, this is the only research we have from him and it's... not scientific in the slightest. Ford treats his "research notes" like a personal diary. I get that they had to design the Journal to be entertaining to kids, but from a scientific lense (which is what he wants to be perceived through), most of Ford's discoveries are very surface level and sometimes (especially later on) border on paranoid conspiracy theorist rambling.

His Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness is the reason he came to Gravity Falls in the first place. His goal is clear:

but, on the very next page, the ramblings start.

It gets worse once he finds the invisible ink.

"The pyramids were built to appease Bill!" sure, buddy.

(And yes, Bill confirms most of these ramblings about his history in The Book of Bill, but a) he too could be lying about this and b) I don't think he had a nice chat with Ford about who he tricked and tormented to build his portal. It wouldn't really fit into the timeline.)

The one bit of "science" I found him doing was his experimentation with the Bottomless Pit. He threw objects in the hole and only saw some stuff coming back while other stuff went missing. Ford hypothesizes it might be a "Möbius Pit" and even spends enough time experimenting on it that he found out "nothing ever seems to get lost on Friday the Thirteenth". Credit where credit is due.

Anyway, he's documenting all kinds of fantastical creatures in the Journal - adding his whimsical commentary and making random assumptions about stuff without any scientific basis. As he admits himself later on, this is getting him nowhere to actually start his Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness, let alone finish it. It's been SIX YEARS.

BUDDY WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

It took a spark of "divine intervention" to even start doing any meaningful research and it was just Bill telling him "hey there's a weirdness dimension btw".

Ford even admits that he didn't come up with it himself. The next pages are the first actually scientific looking ones so far, but more on that in the Inventions section.

He doesn't really advance on his Weirdness Theory for a while (see McGucket chapter for more), but later in the Journal, Ford has a little adventure with Dipper, talking about "The True Theory of Weirdness". He drops a "weird" jelly bean on the floor and watches it roll uphill towards Gravity Falls. He then states that Gravity Falls is a "Weirdness Magnet" and every oddity is eventually drawn to this place. Which is not a theory scientifically speaking, more like an unproven hypothesis. He didn't develop a model to, let's say, predict which oddity will find its way to Gravity Falls next or when it will happen.

"I explained that I felt in my bones that my arrival at this town, and perhaps Dipper's, too, was not an accident. That we were part of some greater fate the town had in store for us." Very scientific.

2. Codes and Secrets

The Journal has several hidden messages from a good handful of characters, some more encoded than others.

We all know about the Map leading to the secrets of Nathaniel Northwest's fraud from the show. Ford found it somewhere in the library.

It just needed to be folded. Layton ass puzzle. A 12 year old figured it out. Ford couldn't do it. Even Mabel is poking fun at him.

Now on to the ciphers.

One of them is a letter from Blendin, encrypted with the Vigenère cipher. To this, Stanford "aced cryptology" Pines says the following:

He was given the key and still couldn't make sense of it. Of course a cool puzzle for people reading the Journal, but not really helping Ford with upholding his image of being an undeniable genius.

Ford himself mainly uses the Atbash and Caesar ciphers, both being a) literally thousands of years old, b) incredibly simple and c) not his own invention.

Bill uses two symbol substition ciphers.

Now I don't know about you, but if a divine being chose me as the genius of the century to inspire me and said being left tiny hidden messages in my diary, I would stop at nothing to try and decipher what they're trying to tell me. For some reason, Ford did not do this. The first message Bill leaves says "I'VE BEEN INSIDE YOUR MIND SIXER, I KNOW YOUR SECRETS". He could have seen all of this coming wayyy earlier (or just had yet another red flag to ignore).

Anyway, I accidentally solved the code before finishing the Journal just to discover that Bill is literally handing him the solution on a silver platter towards the end.

Girl, what do you mean "???" ??

Now, I know Ford at this point is incredibly sleep deprived, paranoid and traumatized. But come on. If I can solve it 6 coffees in while dissociating, our genius can find the solution to Bill's alphabet using the A1Z26 cipher that he put in the journal himself. Plus, as mentioned, he could have deciphered his alphabet way before The Betrayal when his mind was still sound.

So again, not a good look for Ford in the whole genius department.

3. Inventions

Now let's take a look a the inventions which are most commonly associated with Stanford:

The Portal

The Bunker

The Magnet Gun

The Quantum Destabilizer

The Perpetual Motion Machine

The Portal is not one of Ford's inventions, that much is pretty clear. He "comes up with the idea" after Bill told him about some kind of "weirdness dimension".

Now maybe Ford built the portal. Or McGucket built it (which I find more likely due to his tendency to build large scale metal structures) and Ford helped him. We can't really say for sure.

What we CAN say for sure is that McGucket left the day before the big test, which means the portal was basically finished at that point. So if there was still any work left to be done, it would have been minimal and "even Stanley" could figure it out without help, so Ford probably could have, too.

The Bunker. Designed and built by McGucket (and possibly the lumberjacks before zapping them with the Memory Gun), including the death trap of a security system.

Notice the wording. McGucket insisted he could do it on HIS own. But then went out of his way to ask the lumberjacks and not Ford to help excavate the whole thing.

Why? Why not include Ford? Maybe because McGucket could tell Ford was overworked. Maybe because he thought even with Ford's help, they wouldn't have been able to do it in a timely manner and he didn't want to memory zap more people than neccessary, I'm not sure.

Anyway, the Bunker consists of the Bunker itself, a Security Room, an Observation Room and a Storage Room. On top of that, a Temperature Control Apparatus, a Cooling System and a Cryogenic Tube.

Again with the phrasing. "HIS skill for construction". "telephone HE built". "my assistant really topped HIMSELF with the security precautions". "once F starts inventing, HE can't stop".

A man like Ford wouldn't pass up on an opportunity to tell the world about his own accomplishments, yet they are strangely missing in these pages. However, the sketches documenting McGucket's work have become more technical than they've ever been. They even have small annotations that seem as if Ford asked McGucket what he was currently building.

"F has explained" implies McGucket was once again doing this on his own. Why else would he need to explain anything to Ford if they were doing this together? Plus, again, surely Ford would have mentioned something, anything, if he had participated in any way.

The things he DID mention is that he found a mole man skeleton and "Shifty", the shapeshifting creature. And he saved McGucket once Shifty broke out of their cage (Remember this for later, it'll come in handy). And he conducts tests on Shifty (remember this as well).

On to the Magnet Gun.

Again, passive form. If Ford had modified the gun himself, he would have told us. Chances are it was once again McGucket. Or it was just taken from Crash Site Omega as Ford says in the show that he and McGucket came down there often to loot the UFO for tech.

Lastly: The Quantum Destabilizer.

He actually admits he worked on it. However, he spent 30 years between dimensions. In these 30 years he couldn't find anyone (including himself) to get the Destabilizer working. The Other McGucket, however, was able to do it in less than a week.

Ford claims he was missing a suitable power source which The Other McGucket found, but there's no way of knowing if there was more to those "minor adjustments" to Ford's blaster than Ford would like to admit.

The only invention left is the Perpetual Motion Machine which I will save for the "Tragic Backstory" section.

Honorable mentions:

The Hyperdrive needed to power the portal:

"F's mechanical know-how" vs. "my keen intuition." implying Ford merely found the Hyperdrive, but McGucket extracted it safely.

So the Hyperdrive was looted from Crash Site Omega. Plus, McGucket was the one to realize it was even needed in the first place.

While between dimensions, he was given a Dimensional Translator. Also not his own invention.

The metal plate in his head? Not his invention. Not even his idea. The Oracle did that for him.

The Book of Bill has another example that Ford can't invent for shit: He found the blueprint of Abigale Blackwing's Anti-Bill-Suit in the library (once again, not even his own invention) and drafted a more modern blueprint. And either he completely failed to build it or it didn't work because we never hear from it again. Instead, he installs a retina scanner to keep Bill out of the lab. Which he (probably) ALSO didn't build himself.

In summary:

Portal: blueprint by Bill, (probably) built by McGucket.

Bunker: designed and built by McGucket (probably with the help of the lumberjacks).

Magnet Gun: likely looted from Crash Site Omega.

Quantum Destabilizer: a mess before McGucket fixed it overnight

Perpetual Motion Machine: see below.

Dimensional Translator: Not Ford's invention.

Metal Plate: thought of and installed by The Oracle.

Anti-Bill-Suit: invented by Abigale Blackwing.

In fact, he mostly doesn't even say that he did any of this. He openly admits whenever he took something or McGucket built stuff, and barely calls any of the inventions his own. We just assumed that he can (on account of him being a genius), so we assumed he did.

4. Ford's Tragic Backstory

would only make sense if he ACTUALLY couldn't get the Perpetual Motion Machine to work. We already know Ford is an unreliable narrator and I'm probably not the first one to point out that it doesn't make sense that Stan supposedly cost Ford his entire scholarship by breaking his Perpetual Motion Machine (accident or not).

Think about it from a college's point of view: You hear about a young man who apparently built a machine that violates the laws of thermodynamics. You don't just pass up on something like that just because it didn't work the ONE TIME you came to visit. That would be an exceedingly stupid thing to do. I think they would have given him that scholarship if he even got close to achieving such a feat.

Now let's briefly assume Ford IS a genius whose invention got sabotaged. Ford could have easily fixed it and asked for a second appointment with the judges. This did not happen. And even if he didn't get into his dream school, he could have used this perpetual motion machine for the good of humanity. He didn't do that. If the Machine had ever worked, it would have made international news. It didn't. He would have been world famous. He isn't.

What does that tell us?

Does he even have 12 PHDs as he keeps claiming? In what? For what reason? Wouldn't he get a scholarship for his dream school at some point given his seemingly endless potential? It all seems like overcompensation to me. Reminds me of Tommy Tallarico and his ever-increasing number of Guinness World Records.

However, there is a reason Ford is like this. It is connected to his tragic backstory, but I will include this in the final chapter for narrative reasons.

Also note how even in A Better World, he did not go do his dream college. The science center was built around the Shack that he went to later in life:

And even there, he only manages to make a name of himself with McGucket's cooperation. We already established he couldn't build the portal on his own. My guess that McGucket once again did the heavy lifting and didn't mind Ford taking the credit (as you will see in the McGucket chapter).

5. McGucket

At this point we've already gone over how McGucket built (probably) most of the Portal, the Bunker and everything in it, and got the Quantum Stabilizer to work. We also know that in his free time, he loves to tinker. He canonically built a laptop (with extra keys for Fords fingers), a cellphone, the Memory Gun, several killer robots, the Shack-O-Tron and started an entire ass cult along the way.

And that's just what I picked up on from skimming the Journal.

We only see McGucket make stuff on screen. All this time he's welding together contraptions, piloting giant killer robots, having a blast.

We never see Ford tinkering ONCE. Still, he constantly praises McGucket for his "brilliant mind", "mechanical knowledge" and "skill in construction".

I think Ford was McGucket's assistant. He didn't get ANYTHING done before he called McGucket over for help. In the bunker, all he did was find a skeleton and conduct "experiments" on Shifty (by showing them pictures of creatures and documenting what happens). He led McGucket to the UFO crash site, McGucket was the one to actually extract the Hyperdrive. All of the stuff Ford does sounds more like an assistant's job to me.

I'm also pretty sure McGucket knows that Ford isn't the genius he claims to be. Upon seeing Bill's blueprints, he immediately gets suspicious:

Why would he say this to a fellow genius?

And he's the one who recognizes something is wrong with the portal earlier than anyone else.

The day before the test, he meets Ford at the diner to warn him cause he knows something is deeply wrong - and offers him a thesis paper.

Now here is where things get interesting.

Ford gets angry. But instead of saying something like "How dare you insult my scientific integrity / intelligence", he thinks McGucket wants the Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness to himself, which obviously couldn't be further from the truth. But Ford is too insecure about his intelligence and too curious about the portal to care.

This makes me wonder if McGucket had done this before. They went to college together. What if McGucket wrote Ford's final assignment as well? What if he'd seen him have a meltdown over the introduction and whipped up a fantastic final thesis in an afternoon?

We know McGucket cares deeply for Ford, and we can tell his intentions at the diner were sincere. He doesn't really want or need any credit - meanwhile Ford is starved for it. This is probably also why he's fine being "Ford's assistant" even though he's the one putting in most of the work.

6. Why Would He Do This??

Before we talk about Ford's plans after Weirdmageddon, I have to mention that there's a good reason Ford is pretending to be a genius. This is pretty speculative territory, but I think it makes sense given what we know about the Pines family.

When you're a twin, at least in the Stan Bro's case, you're constantly being compared to one another. Once it has been established that Ford is the "smarter" of the two (true or not), their father latches onto that and soon Ford's intelligence becomes his entire identity. I think just like Stan was looked down upon and neglected for being the "stupid" twin, Ford was burdened with expectations for being the "smart" twin. "You're gonna go far, kid. You're gonna make us so much money, you're gonna get us out of this dump." An INSANE thing to burden a child with.

This goes well for a while - Ford gets straight As and is the pride of the family. His ego inflates. But then something strange happens which I'm sure many "gifted kids" can relate to - he hits a wall. At some point he can no longer brute force things with his intelligence and he has trouble keeping up with his family's expectations. His massive ego gets damaged beyond repair.

Soon, he starts questioning everything. "If I'm not the smart guy, who am I? What's left?" He's been living like this his entire life. It's way too late to turn back so he moves forward. And if intelligence can't get him there, at least he can use the smarts he does have to make sure nobody else ever finds out. It's not unlikely for him to develop this attitude and it's the same kind of mindset he brings to taking the Hyperdrive from Crash Site Omega:

In a way, this makes him a con artist like Stanley. Which, after everything that's happened between the two, must feel like such an insult to Ford that he'd rather live in denial than face reality. The reality being that he is about as intelligent as Stanley, too. This doesn't mean that Stan is dumb (he managed to get the portal to work with barely any help, after all) - just that Ford is not as intelligent as he (and everyone else) thought / expected of him. AND that Stanley isn't as dumb as everyone always told him he was.

I think while yes, Stan broke the Machine, Ford couldn't fix it. Or it was never even a Perpetual Motion Machine to begin with. Yes, Ford couldn't go to his "dream college", but was that really his dream? Or his father's? Remember when McGucket offered him the Weirdness Thesis on a silver platter, saying with this he can finally "get his life back", and Ford still refused it? Maybe he didn't want his old life back. Because his old life SUCKED without Stanley in it.

7. After Weirdmageddon

Now that we established what Ford's dad wanted him to be, let's explore what Ford actually likes doing.

Obviously journaling and sketching what he sees, but what else?

Ford loves exploring. He goes on hikes, climbs mountains, visits caves, goes ham on Crash Site Omega. In the Bunker he looks around and discovers a mole man skeleton and Shifty while McGucket did the inventing/building.

He's also great at action hero stuff. He saves McGucket from the Gremloblin, and later from Shifty, he's jumping around the UFO with a magnet gun as if it's the only thing he's ever done, and saving Dipper from the security system, just to name a few.

He even says this in the episode: "I need to train an apprentice to help me fight monsters, solve mysteries, and protect this town." This doesn't really sound like science stuff to me.

So yeah I think Ford lied about being a genius to compensate for his (self perceived) lack of other qualities, he lied about his 12 PHDs, his scientific accomplishments, maybe even some inventions. He sucks at decoding things despite claiming to have "aced cryptology". Instead, he spends most of his time exploring, fighting monsters, stealing shit and getting in all kinds of dangerous situations. Truth is, he is much more similar to Stan than he'd like anyone to find out.

He also doesn't even WANT to do science. He likes the idea of science, like in Sci Fi movies, but not the actual labor that comes with it. Ford has been travelling between dimensions for 30 years. He probably is the only human to ever have done that in his dimension. Surely he spent these 30 years on research? Well...

There's only a single line mentioned in the Journal about doing anything scientific and he didn't even dedicate the entire sentence to it.

He "compared notes with scholars". That's it.

But surely he has so many papers and theories he can finally publish to fulfil his initial goal to "join the ranks of Newton, Tesla, & Einstein in the pantheon of science"?

Nope. He goes treasure hunting with Stanley. Ford seems to have forgotten all about his research. And I think that's not just because he wants to make up for lost time, but also because this is what he truly wanted to do in the first place, before he was forced into the "genius" mold.

To go adventuring, to be creative, to spend time with the family that matters.

8. TLDR

Ford didn't manage to write his Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness.

His Journal is entertaining, but ultimately full of unscientific ramblings.

He didn't build the portal, bunker, magnet gun, quantum destabilizer, or any other invention I could find.

All of his accomplishments can be traced back to either Bill, the town library, or McGucket.

He didn't write his own codes, he couldn't decipher any of the codes or secrets he found, including the ones he was given a solution to.

The Journal makes it look like Ford is McGucket's assistant and not the other way round.

McGucket is amazing and needs to be protected at all costs.

The tragicness of Ford's backstory makes no sense if he actually WAS a genius.

He needed to keep up the genius act because that's what his family expected of him and now he's con-artist level good at it.

He spent 30 years between dimensions committing crimes and preparing for revenge instead of doing science.

he seems to not even LIKE doing science. he prefers exploring, drawing, and getting into dangerous situations.

Once back in his home dimension, instead of doing anything science related, he goes adventuring with his brother.

Disclaimer: I have nothing against Ford, if anything this adds to his character cause I haven't seen anyone even so much as question his status as a genius yet. I just needed to get this out of my system cause this has been brewing in my brain since JULY.

This took me 10 hours to write. Thank you so much for making it this far, this post was brought to you by Autism™