#there's actually a bigger piece from his chapter that i want to draw

[kinaesthetiqueer]

doodle of a scene from chapter 17 of On the Run from Tomorrow, my missing scene fic that i wrote to process JNR post v3 grief. i avoided a final edit pass for this chapter for a week because it's so utterly gut wrenching, but it's cathartic and lovingly written, i swear.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

There are so many places in the Villeneuve Dune adaptations where he just...takes all the narrative pieces that Frank Herbert laid out and subtly rearranges them into something that tells the story better--that creates dramatic tension where you need it, communicates the themes and message of the book more clearly, or corrects something in the text that contradicts or undermines what Herbert said he was trying to say.

The fedaykin are probably my favorite example of this. I just re-read a little part of the book and got smacked in the face with how different they are.

(under the cut for book spoilers and length)

The fedaykin in the book are Paul's personal followers, sort of his personal guard. They show up after his legend has already started growing (the word doesn't appear in the book until chapter 40) and they are people who have specifically dedicated themselves to fighting for him, and right from the moment they're introduced there is a kind of implied fanaticism to their militancy that's a bit uncomfortable to read. They're the most ardent believers in Paul's messianic status and willing to die for him. (They are also, as far as you can tell from the text, all men.)

In the book, as far as I can remember (I could be forgetting some small detail but I don't think so) there is no mention of armed resistance to colonialism on Arrakis before Paul shows up. As far as we know, he created it. ETA: Okay I actually went back and checked on this and while we hear about the Fremen being "a thorn in the side" of the Harkonnens and we know that they are good fighters, we don't see anything other than possibly one bit of industrial sabotage. The book is very clear that the organized military force we see in the second half was armed and trained by Paul. This is exacerbated by the two-year time jump in the book, which means we never see how Paul goes from being a newly deposed ex-colonial overlord running for his life to someone who has his own private militia of people ready to give their lives for him.

The movie completely flips all these dynamics on their head in ways that add up to a radical change in meaning.

The fedaykin in the movie are an already-existing guerrilla resistance movement on Arrakis that formed long before Paul showed up. Literally the first thing we learn about the Fremen, less that two minutes into the first movie, is that they are fighting back against the colonization and exploitation of their home and have been for decades.

The movie fedaykin also start out being the most skeptical of the prophecy about Paul, which is a great choice from both a political and a character standpoint. Of course they're skeptical. If you're part of a small guerrilla force repeatedly going up against a much bigger and stronger imperial army...you have to believe in your own agency. You have to believe that it is possible to win, and that this tiny little chip in the armor of a giant terrifying military machine that you are making right now will make a difference in the end. These are the people who are directly on the front lines of resisting oppression. They are doing it with their own sweat, blood and ingenuity, and they are not about to wait around for some messiah who may never come.

From a character standpoint, this is really the best possible environment you could put Paul Atreides in if you want to keep him humble. He doesn't get any automatic respect handed to him due to title or birthright or religious belief. He has to prove himself--not as any kind of savior but as a good fighter and a reliable member of a collective political project. And he does. This is an environment that really draws out his best qualities. He's a skilled fighter; he's brave (sometimes recklessly so); he's intensely loyal to and protective of people he cares about. He is not too proud to learn from others and work hard in an egalitarian environment where he gets no special treatment or extra glory. The longer he spends with the fedaykin the more his allegiance shifts from Atreides to Fremen, and the more skeptical he himself becomes about the prophecy. This sets up the conflict with Jessica, which comes to a head before she leaves for the south. And his political sincerity--that he genuinely comes to believe that these people deserve liberation from all colonial forces and his only role should be to help where he can--is what makes the tragedy work. Because in the end we know he will betray all these values and become the exact thing he said he didn't want to be.

There's another layer of meaning to all this that I don't know if the filmmakers were even aware of. ETA: rescinding my doubt cause based on some of Villeneuve's other projects I'm pretty sure he could work it out. Given the time period (1960s) and Herbert's propensity for using Arabic or Arabic-inspired words for aspects of Fremen culture, it seems very likely that the made-up word fedaykin was taken from fedayeen, a real Arabic word that was frequently used untranslated in American news media at the time, usually to refer to Palestinian armed resistance groups.

Fedayeen is usually translated into English as fighter, guerrilla, militant or something similar. The translation of fedaykin that Herbert provides in Dune is "death commando"...which is a whole bucket of yikes in my opinion, but it's not entirely absurd if we're assuming that this fake word and the real word fedayeen function in the same way. A more literal translation of fedayeen is "self-sacrificer," as in willing, intentional self-sacrifice for a political cause, up to and including sacrificing your life.

If you apply this logic to Dune, it means that Villeneuve has actually shifted the meaning of this word in-universe, from fighters who are willing to sacrifice themselves for Paul to fighters who are willing to sacrifice themselves for their people. And the fedaykin are no longer a group created for Paul but a group that Paul counts himself as part of, one member among equals. Which is just WILDLY different from what's in the book. And so much better in my opinion.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 6

(Quickly running out of Monster men drawings to use as my chapter pictures. May be a hot minute until I get the next chapter out since my laptop can barely stay conscious long enough to draw another one and I want to only use the monster AU versions of the characters for this series.)

Warnings; multiple yanderes, platonic yanderes, romantic yanderes, monster AU, eating Humans mentioned, more AU history, Cater is not having a very Cay-Cay day, food is an excellent way to bring groups together, Fauns, Satyrs, Kelpies, Crow Fae, Unicorns, Water Nymphs, vampire bats, dragons, cervitaurs, Raiju, Mermen, Cecaelia, Gnolls,

~~~~~~~~

Lunch finally rolled around and you were surprised that Ace and Deuce had actually taken Trey's words seriously and accompanied you to classes. Ace had loudly complained about his volunteering for a little bit but once he saw how many students actually took an interest in you, he stopped complaining and started viewing the task as a kind of important role only he could do. Naturally, Deuce was far less irate about the situation though there were times he almost came across as a punk when it came to others trying to harass you. Both had adjusted well to being around you and come lunch Deuce was actually taking pride in explaining things to you.

"-and that's what makes Fauns different from Satyrs."

"So Fauns are the nicer version of Satyrs?"

"For the most part. Satyrs are known for being loud and always wanting to fight-"

Ace cut Deuce off, shoving an uncooked carrot into the Faun's mouth to silence him. You had seen the two interact and you got the distinct feeling that the Faun and Satyr had more of a brotherly relationship with one another. Where they both had different personalities, when they did agree on something it was practically a law to them.

It was fascinating to hear that these monster men had similar names to the mythical creatures from your world and you wondered why such an overlap existed. Maybe the Humans from your world did interact with this world in the past, or maybe it was just a coincidence. Still, it seemed almost too close to be mere coincidence.

"Anyway, now that Dunce here is done talking-"

"You know my name is Deuce-"

"Like I said, now that Dunce is done talking, I have questions for you, (Y/n)."

You almost laughed at the back and forth banter of the two Goats- Faun and Satyr respectively- as their voices fumbled over one another. Truth was, you had been expecting far more questions than the few they threw at you between classes, so now was as good a time as any to ask.

"Okay, what do you want to know?"

"So, you don't have magic? Like, at all?"

"No magic whatsoever. Where I came from, magic is a myth and no creatures have magic."

"Okay. But how do Humans survive? No horns, no claws, nothing to protect themselves from bigger creatures."

"We make weapons. I know you all have bows, arrows, and knives, we have the same. Guns too, but I haven't seen any guns used here."

"Wait, what is a gun?"

"Basically an automatic bow that fires little pieces of metal using explosive powder that needs a spark which launches the metal through their target."

Ace seemed almost excited by your vague explanation of a gun, opening his mouth to ask you another question. His voice died in his throat as his gaze locked onto something behind you, prompting you to turn around to look at whatever it was that had unsettled Ace.

Standing not too far from you was the large figure of the Horse-man Trey. Ace told you he was a Kelpie, but you just couldn't make that connection seeing as he looked like a big white horse and not a water kelp-horse like Kelpies were supposed to be. He was clearly making good on his threat to check in as he approached you with a patient smile on his face.

"Hello (Y/n), have Heartslabyul's first-years been adequate guides for you today?"

"Yes. Grim doesn't even have to try half as hard to keep me safe now and I haven't been late to any of my classes other than the first one."

Trey gave a genuine smile at this, nodding his head as he was pleased to know his choice had been a good one. Seeing the centaur made you wonder about Cater and what may have become of the air-head student. In some ways, you worried asking would have a negative effect, but you were so curious you couldn't help but inquire about him.

"So... What happened to Cater?"

"He is being dealt with by the Headmage. He's lucky he isn't going to get expelled for what he did, but once the Headmage is done with his punishment, he's going to be turned over to Riddle."

"Is Riddle mad about all of this?"

"Well... I actually haven't told Riddle yet. He has a short fuse and isn't going to take Cater's actions well, especially since he asked both Cater and I to protect you if we happened across you. Odds are Cater is going to be collared and kicked out of his room for the foreseeable future."

This made you frown in contemplation at the prospect of the Red-haired student being punished too harshly. Though you were upset Cater took photos of you without asking and likely set several poachers on your trail, you didn't want harm to come to him. Sure, he was stupid and made a stupid choice, but he shouldn't be hurt or kicked out of his home for it.

"... If he is kicked out of his room, is there anywhere else he can go?"

"No. Riddle is very strict about rule-breakers being banned from the dorms so long as they have one of his collars on, and most other dorms aren't keen to house a student that isn't theirs. He's probably going to be sleeping in the Heartslabyul lake if Riddle doesn't ban him from there too."

The morality of the issue weighed on you and made you worry about the ditzy redhead. Though you didn't really trust Cater or his clearly impaired decision making skills, you still felt like he deserved basic decency despite his actions. You knew firsthand how the creatures that lived around campus were genuinely terrifying and dangerous, so you didn't want him thrown to the metaphorical or actual wolves.

"Can... can Cater stay in my dorm?"

Your question earned you several dubious looks from the Goats and Trey as if you had grown another head or said something unhinged. Even Grim had to pause his hesitant raw veggie medley- the only thing the cafeteria served today- to stare at you in surprise.

"You- you want Cater in your dorm? Why?"

"Well, it wasn't like he knew what he was doing was bad, and I don't think he should be left outside for his poor choice."

"(Y/n), do you realize how vicious poachers are in Twisted Wonderland? You will be hunted every moment of every day because Cater couldn't keep himself from posting you to that stupid Magicam app he is obsessed with. The second you are unguarded you will be attacked. The Headmage is even considering assigning Sam and Vargas to your dorm just to make sure poachers can't get in, or even moving you to Diasomnia so Malleus can protect you. I don't think you understand just how seriously we need to take your safety."

"I'm just a Human though, I'm not a princess or someone important. Why all the fuss?"

Your comment made Trey let out a long and exasperated sigh, his gaze leaving your confused form as he tried to keep in mind just how new you were to their world. Humans were never just Humans in Twisted Wonderland, and them simply dying out has made a far felt ripple in the history of every known species. For so long, so many species had adored and tried to protect Humans, but even they couldn't save the fragile species from the hunger so many magic users had for their very flesh.

Most things in the technological realm and cooking realm- pastries and phones included- only existed because Humans led the way to them being invented. Even now, technology has been mostly stagnant for over a hundred years with only the Shrouds having any aptitude as far as advancements were concerned. Trey himself had Humanity to thank for his family's bakery and the many cuisines local to the Queendom of Roses.

"(Y/n), Humans have never been 'just Humans' to us. Maybe to Sunset Savana, but never to the Queendom of Roses. Even Briar Valley had laws in place to protect your kind from everyone else. I get you may not understand it, but compared to most other species, Humans were better than most in the emotional and critical thinking department. It was Humans creating new inventions, coming up with unique ideas, and above all else, peacekeeping between the various species and races to the point they were called Beast-Tamers. Most wouldn't even speak to their Fae counterparts until Humans got the two to interact amicably."

You were somewhat surprised to hear all of this, having been under the impression that Humans were mainly pets to the other species. It was interesting to hear what Humans were credited for and that despite all they did to help, they were still hunted as food until extinction. The few from Savanaclaw you interacted with had been both sides of the spectrum of threatening you or being peaceful to you and it made you wonder just what kind of species were still keen to get a taste of your forbidden flesh.

"Honestly," Trey continued, "I wouldn't be surprised if several Kingdoms and Queendoms sent ambassadors to take you away from Night Raven for your own safety. I just know the international law makers are going to have a field day the moment it becomes common knowledge that you're here."

It made sense that Trey was stressed about this, you knew from your own home how aggressively endangered and near-extinct species had to be protected, but you still felt Cater shouldn't carry all the blame. If it wasn't Cater, it would have been someone else. Just because he was the fool to do it first didn't mean that others wouldn't have tried or succeeded in the same endeavor.

"Still, if he gets kicked out of the dorms tonight, will you at least tell him I will let him stay with me?"

"If you really want me to," he sighed heavily, "I guess I can tell Cater about your offer. I won't tell Riddle though, knowing how that Unicorn is, he will actually harm Cater for even thinking about taking shelter with you after what he's done."

~•§•~

"HE DID WHAT?!"

Riddle was beside himself with rage and even stomped his hooves against the marble floors of the Headmage's office, almost cracking the stone with his rage. Cater was trying to sink into his chair and hide from the Sophomore Housewarden who was beyond the point of furious with the water Nymph. Not only did he get a dressing-down from the Headmage, but he was going to be thrown at the mercy of his own Housewarden who was known for being an absolute hard-ass on rule breakers.

"It wasn't like I was trying to target her! I just-"

"SILENCE! YOU WILL SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO, CATER DIAMOND!"

The firm tone Riddle used made Cater shut his mouth and bow his head, trying to avoid upsetting the Unicorn further. There was no way he would be able to go back to his room at this rate and odds are he would be sleeping in the forest if Riddle had anything to say about it. Plus, he still had that essay to write for Trein that was due tomorrow.

"He apparently took a selfie with (Y/n) and posted it to Magicam with hashtags indicating she is Human. By the time I got him to delete the post, it had been downloaded several thousand times. Since then I have already received a call from the Royal Sword Academy Headmage to confirm a Human lives here now, and what we as the heads of our schools can do to protect her. No doubt representatives from Briar Valley and the Queendom of Roses have already been dispatched and will arrive on the island soon enough, not to mention how many poachers are likely on their way here as we speak."

Cater knew how upset Riddle was given the fact the Unicorn's horn was humming loudly with magic and the Unicorn himself was a bright red. Things really weren't coming up Cay-Cay today.

"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!"

~•§•~

You felt a bit more comfortable with the school as a whole by the time classes had finished for the day. Practical Magical Theory was an interesting class, even if you really didn't have the faintest idea what they were talking about. According to Ace, you were lucky you didn't have Flight Class because there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to participate in the class itself. Still, you were happy to have a moment to let things settle down for a bit.

Ace and Deuce walked you to your dorm, but had been called to Heartslabyul by a quick text from Trey, leaving you alone in the dorm with Grim. Despite the beginning of the day being an absolute wash, the rest of the day hadn't been too bad. It was around this time you decided you may as well start on making some dinner. You could hear Grim's stomach growling already as you both went to the kitchen.

"Are you gonna make something good like you did for breakfast?"

"I'm going to try to."

"What are you gonna make?"

"Well, I was thinking we have the stuff here for a really nice soup-"

You were promptly cut off by the Kitchen door swinging open with a loud bang. Clearly, you were going to have to tell the professors or even the Headmage Crow about securing that side door given how it had already been used twice by others seeking to get into your dorm. Luckily for you, those that walked through the door had at least two familiar faces in the group.

"Sorry for interrupting," Lilia called out, happily making his way over to you in an almost bouncy gait, much like a bird hopping around, "hope you don't mind I brought Malleus, Silver, and Sebek too. I heard one of the Heartslabyul students blew the whistle on you being here in NRC. Figured you could use a bit of extra protection in case any poachers try their luck. Besides, the nest here is just as big as Malleus' nest in Diasomnia."

It was then Malleus spoke, his voice a deep rumble in his chest as he looked over you.

"They will not lay a hand upon my hoard without paying with their lives for such a transgression."

It was clear the Dragon was not happy with the events that took place and he seemed to be quite content claiming you as one of his Hoard. When Lilia explained it to you last night, apparently the moment Malleus decided he was adding someone to his Hoard, he became extremely attached to that person and would even become violent in their defense. Given the way others talked about him, he must have been a genuinely frightening and powerful person to command such fear and respect.

"... So does that mean I'm making soup for all of you or..?"

"If you don't mind. I certainly want another bite of your cooking, (Y/n)!"

Lilia took his perch back on the counter and swung his feet, seeming rather impish and almost childish in his behavior. You just shrugged and nodded, gathering enough ingredients to feed the group several times over. Your hope was that there would be some left over for you to take during lunches. As nice as it was to have raw foods once in a while, you'd rather your meals be cooked.

Grim clearly only trusted Lilia and sat next to the Bat to watch you bustle around the kitchen. He even let out a soft purr when Lilia began to pet his forehead and ears. Where you would have scolded them for sitting on the counter, it wasn't like you didn't have enough counter space already. Starting the broth and preparation was rather simple for you and it was clear those standing around you were keen to watch you prepare the soup.

"(Y/n)," Grim meowed, "where did you learn to do all this fancy stuff?"

"Humans usually cook their food. So I just learned while growing up. Of course there are some things you can have without cooking, like a sandwich or a fruit salad, but most big meals are better cooked. Now, that doesn't mean every Human can cook well, but most are good enough at it."

"So does that mean I can have more of the food you cook?"

"Like a bigger portion? No. But you will always get to have some of whatever I make, okay?"

Grim purred loudly at this, his face lighting up with an excited smile. Clearly the little creature was pleased with your arrangement even if it meant he had to go to boring classes with you. The food was absolutely worth it and he got to sleep in a mountain of pillows and blankets after a long day. It was all way better than the hole in the ground he occupied when he wasn't actively running for his life before he met you.

Once you got most of the soup started, you knew it just needed to be covered and cooked, listening idly to Lilia talk with the others about the events of breakfast and the Gnoll that invited himself in. It was when you finally got this moment that you took a good look at the other two visitors who were either Silver or Sebek, seeing as Lilia didn't point out who was who.

Much to your surprise, one of them reminded you of the Kelpie and Unicorn you had met earlier but he had an obvious three point antler rack attached to his head. His lower half was that of a reindeer and was fairly fluffy compared to the short coats of the Kelpie and Unicorn. Part of you wanted to test if he was as soft as he looked, but you figured it would not be considered appropriate to pet him.

The second new face was an almost canine like man with pale green hair that was slicked back and spiked up at the ends. His eyes were intense as was the apparent scowl that held his features, two sharply pointed dog ears atop his head. Bright yellow-green eyes tracked your every move and regarded you with as much curiosity as you regarded him. The similar medium length tail fur swayed lazily as his tail slowly began to wag when you looked at him.

The soup was beginning to smell rather good and it was clear four of the five others in the kitchen were taking note as they occasionally sniffed the air. Lilia, Grim, Silver, and Sebek were clearly keenly interested in the scent but it was Malleus' behavior that caught your attention. Instead of sniffing or lifting his nose as the others did, his forked tongue slowly slid from between his lips like a snake as if he were tasting the air. You almost laughed at the oddly reptile behavior before his gaze suddenly snapped to the door of the kitchen.

Standing in the doorway was a curious looking man that seemed to have fins on the sides of his head. His almost scaled skin had a kind of faint green tint to it with intense blue undertones, his eyes being two different colors with the right one being a pale gray and the left one being a bright gold. Atop his head were tousled blue-green locks with a singular black stripe that crossed over his forehead above his left eye.

"Oya, it seems I'm not the only one with culinary interests. Apologies for intruding, but the lovely smell drew me in. Would you mind telling me what it is you're making?"

You were surprised to see the almost Fish-like man despite how polite he was being with you. Instead of hopping in to defend you, Lilia looked at you for what you wanted to do with this interloper. Malleus seemed rather keen to rid you of this newcomer's presence but you held up a hand to stop him from acting. Part of you worried this new visitor was dangerous, but because he was wearing a school uniform you figured he was just another student.

"Soup?"

"... May I ask what kind?"

"Only if you tell me your name first and what you were doing around my dorm."

"Ah, forgive me. It seems in my haste to get to the heart of the matter, I forgot my manners. My name is Jade Leech, I'm the Vice-Housewarden of Octavinelle. I'm going to assume from your appearance you are the highly talked-of Human now living on campus. Azul informed us that you would be remaining here for the time being. As for what I was doing, I am rather interested in the foods that grow wild above water, so I was out gathering some mushrooms to sample."

He lifted the foraging bag that hung over his shoulder, showing you the contents within. He was right in that he had gathered up a fair few number of mushrooms and there were several that you actually recognized. You were no master of mushrooms- of course- but you still recognized a few species that were safe for you to eat, seeing several button mushrooms among the many gathered.

Those would be great in the soup you were making, and it was early enough that you could add them right in and they would cook just fine.

"Okay, Jade. I believe you were at least out gathering mushrooms which is innocent enough. I'm actually curious if you wanted to trade for some of those button mushrooms you have, they'd go great in the soup I'm making. In return I'll tell you about it and you can have some to eat if you'd like."

Jade actually seemed to brighten up at this, his smile becoming less strained and his expression smoothing from the stressed way his brows had been pulled together. It was almost as if he had been wanting to ask for some soup but was far too polite to actually inquire. He nodded and set his bag on the counter, letting you pick out the little rounded white mushrooms from the selection he gathered.

"I'm quite partial to the cuisines the different kingdoms have to offer. Rare as it can be to find those who are masters of their craft, I would still like to sample the meals above the ocean waves. I would be grateful for whatever knowledge you can share with me. It isn't every day that someone adept at cooking graces this school."

"Hey," Grim interrupted loudly as you set to dicing the mushrooms, "that's my Hooman you're talking to! She only cooks for me, but I'm kind enough to share with all of you. Don't forget it, got it?"

Jade gave a rather patient simper to your primary companion, resting his right hand over his heart in an almost polite gesture.

"But of course. I'm simply interested in learning to make such meals for myself. I'm certain Azul and Floyd would be keen to taste such a wonderful smelling dish."

This seemed to satisfy your little companion as he nodded with a pleased smile, watching you add the mushrooms to the rather large pot you decided to make the soup in. Thankfully it was a cauldron type pot made for cooking soups over firepits. The fire so dutifully warming your meal crackled pleasantly even as you stirred the bubbling mixture.

"Do you want to ask them to come over, Jade? I made way too much. Honestly, everyone here could all have a bowl, a second bowl, and I would still have enough soup for the rest of the week. I think I went a little overboard in the food department. Should have probably started with a smaller pot, but we're already this far..."

Jade seemed surprised at this, but nodded respectfully and pulled out his phone. You were curious just what Jade was as you really hadn't seen many fish-men during your day, but you weren't going to ask him. If he wanted to tell you what he was, that was his business. Didn't make you any less curious though.

"If you're certain? I'm sure Floyd will be thrilled to have something new to try. He doesn't like some mushrooms, but I don't believe he has tried the ones you've selected, and he certainly hasn't tried cooked mushrooms yet. Azul may try to heckle you into a deal, however. He is always looking for new ways to improve the Monstro Lounge."

"Yeah, of course I'm certain. I offered, didn't I?"

He nodded and began tapping away at his phone, but Lilia seemed rather keen to speak up. The Bat had been listening keenly to the conversation and felt he needed to make himself clear to the notoriously crafty student.

"If Azul threatens (Y/n) or tries to force her into a deal, we will have more than a few problems, understood?"

"He is aware. Believe it or not, those of us from the Coral Sea are actually quite fond of the legacy of Humans. Even Floyd has been babbling excitedly about meeting (Y/n) here."

"That's right, Humans were popular among the various merfolk kingdoms. You all even have a famous story involving the mermaid princess falling for a Human and joining him on land."

"Yes. She struck a deal with The Sea Witch to gain legs she could use to dance for the Human man she fell in love with, too bad the deal didn't hide her gills or fins though. Still, the Human loved her."

You listened to the conversation as you stirred the soup, glad that all of the flavors seemed to be coming together rather well despite the large amount of food you found yourself making. Judging from the conversation Lilia and Jade happened to be having, Jade was a Merman of some kind and apparently Mermen were one of the 'safe species' for Humans to interact with. Though you knew not to judge an individual by the species, it did put you at ease to know he was one of the safer ones.

It was as you were taste testing the soup that the door to the kitchen once again flew open as another visitor invited themselves in. It was offical now, four times proved it was far too easy to get into your dorm through that door. Maybe Lilia would be able to fix it for you, or Malleus seeing as Lilia said it was the Dragon who had mostly fixed up your current abode.

"(Y/n), you're an absolute angel! I thought I was going to have to sleep in the woods once Riddle temporarily banned me from Heartslabuyl! He won't even let me sleep in the lake even though I'm a Lake Water Nymph because of what happened. You believe me when I say I didn't mean to put you in danger, right?"

Cater had thrown himself at your feet, holding onto your legs as if he were some abandoned pet seeking shelter from a blizzard. Around his neck was a thick metal collar that extended out to the sides in black and red colors, forming a heart-shape that locked in the front with a golden and black padlock. He was careful not to get in the fire that was dutifully cooking your soup even as he groveled at your feet.

"O-oi! What's the big idea with everyone coming in that door? It's dangerous to leave that thing unlocked."

"That's what I'm saying! So much for protected and safe with that thing in here."

You couldn't help but slightly grin at Grim as he voiced your own concerns out loud. Lilia simply regarded the door, snapping his fingers to close it as a large metal bolt affixed itself to the door before clicking into place.

"There. Now it can't be thrown open anymore. But why is Cater here? Cater, when did Riddle collar you and why?"

Cater seemed to realize there were others standing around you as he suddenly straightened up, clearing his throat and taking several steps back from you. He tried to play off the desperate display he had just shown and was failing miserably. Cater looked much worse for wear than you remembered him being and you genuinely began to hope the Unicorn hadn't actually harmed the ditzy redhead.

"Well... I may have 'accidentally' posted a picture that told everyone that (Y/n) was a Human and was on NRC grounds, but I totes didn't realize it would put her in danger! Honestly!"

Lilia's bemused smile almost instantly fell away into a glare as he regarded the man standing by your side. You added a bit of salt to the soup as you wated, watching the thick broth bubble and roil with vegtables and diced meat. There were a lot of things you could do in that moment, but something told you it was best to let Lilia handle this situation.

"And what did you think was going to happen, Cater?"

"Tbh, I thought that I would just get a follower count boost and everything would be fine. The Headmage and Riddle sure made it clear I was wrong for thinking that. Lessons learned!"

"It only cost us the safety of the last Human left in Twisted Wonderland."

"I said I was sorry!"

Everyone except Cater seemed to be exceptionally upset as they all glared at him, making him duck behind you as if you were the best shield from their rage. You just let the tall student try and fail to escape the ire of the others. For once, a polite knock came at the kitchen door, breaking off the aggressive staredown taking place.

"Hey, why are we here, Azul?"

An almost sing-song voice hummed from somewhere on the other side of the door, prompting Jade to walk over and open the door for who you assumed to be the two he was talking about. In strode a rather lovely looking man with snow-white hair and shining mauve blue eyes hidden behind thin framed glasses. Around his face were lovely and intricate black markings that reminded you quite a bit of the tentacles of an octopus. Behind him lumbered a rather tall man who almost looked identical to Jade if not for the swapped eye color and slight difference in height.

"We're here because Jade told me there is a profitable venture to be had and I am not going to miss out on this chance to make the Human's acquaintance, Floyd."

The shorter one hummed in a smooth voice and you almost giggled at the rather fact-of-the-matter tone that the white haired one spoke with. You felt it was safe to assume the rather lovely man was Azul and the near identical to Jade fish-man walking with him was Floyd.

Floyd almost made a show of sniffing the air, following his nose to where you stood in front of the pot of soup, watching him curiously. Once his gaze fell on you a wide grin overtook the slight frown he had been pouting with. You could see the way his eyes trailed over your figure due to the bright yellow of his right eye highlighting his pupil as it darted up and down.

"Ne ne, what is such a cute little Shrimpy doing this far above the water? You're so small I just want to squeeze ya."

He took a single step towards you and this seemed to be enough for the two- Silver and Sebek- to suddenly intercept him with swords drawn, creating an 'X' that blocked the tall Merman from approaching further. It was more than a little surprising to see weapons suddenly drawn, but maybe you shouldn't be all that surprised. Lilia did say he came over to guard you again and even brought the others for the same purpose.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt them, I just want a little feel on if Shrimpy is as soft as they look!"

"Floyd, that's enough. She was polite enough to allow me to invite you and Azul over and she is quite the rare specimen, you can't threaten her so casually and expect those guarding her to not be upset."

"I didn't threaten, I just said I wanted a big ol' squeeze."

"Same difference where you are concerned."

"Eh, you're so boring sometimes, Jade. Anyway, what is Shrimpy making over there? Smells good~!"

You were stunned at the almost aggressive behavior from Floyd given how calm and level headed Jade had been thus far. Maybe it was just a quirk of Floyd's to be a little more hands on than others. It honestly made you glad to know your self-appointed guards took their task seriously as they still refused to let the large Merman near you. Speaking of your guards, Floyd didn't seem put off by their aggression in the slightest and almost seemed amused by them as if it were all one big game.

Tension was thick in the air as the almost aloof Floyd smiled at you, watching you grab several bowls and begin ladling out ten total servings. You were not really all that surprised when there was still more soup to go even after you filled enough bowls for yourself and the ever increasing number of guests.

Maybe you were right to make so much after all. Hopefully your surprise guests had all shown-

"Why is the door locked? Hey, Human, I smell food in there! I already ate all the Dandelions from this morning! Can I have some of whatever you're making? Please? I'm starving out here."

Peaking through the windows to the kitchen was a familiar grizzled muzzle of the Gnoll you had met that morning. Ruggie was staring with those unsettling bright blue eyes and you were unsure if you wanted to laugh or scream. You scolded yourself in the back of your mind, remembering that animals would often return to places if they were given food prior and no doubt the Hyena man sought to do the same.

"Should I let him in, (Y/n)?"

Lilia asked, eyeing the lock on the door as Ruggie began to loudly whine and cackle for attention. You just sighed and nodded, knowing the Hyena wasn't going to leave now that he knew there was food ready and waiting just inside.

"May as well."

The Gnoll was quick to enter once the door opened and he happily grabbed one of the ten bowls, immediately scarfing down the soup without even glancing at the now large group of men standing in your kitchen. You didn't bother offering a spoon to Ruggie as it was clear he didn't need or want one. Despite the odd group that had gathered under your roof- technically it was the school's roof, but now wasn't the time for semantics- they all seemed keen to dig in when you passed out the bowls.

Getting yourself a bowl- seeing as Ruggie had taken one of the ten- you were able to finally take in the meal of your labors. It wasn't half bad and those button mushrooms added just the right earthy flavor that really brought the soup together. All of your visitors clearly liked the soup as well and Grim was the first to ask for seconds.

"Miss (Y/n)! This is a fantastic meal! I don't think I've had such flavors in anything I've eaten before! I would only think a meal from my liege could possibly taste better!"

"Sebek," the white haired one interrupted the shouting one, "you don't need to yell at her."

"I'm talking at an adequate volume, Silver. You dare say this meal isn't divine?"

"That's not what I said at all."

Lilia giggled as the two odd characters argued, hopping off the counter to serve himself another helping of the plentiful soup. Despite the absolute lack of respect for your personal space they all seemed to share, you couldn't help but smile as well. The many men you had met were odd and so unique in many ways but none of them actually seemed all that bad once they relaxed and got talking.

Maybe these monsters weren't as monstrous as you thought when you first met them. Hopefully their worries of poachers would just prove to be worries, but you knew you weren't truly safe yet and anyone could be a threat if they genuinely wanted to be. You just hoped there wasn't another shoe waiting to drop on your peaceful evening.

~•§•~

"Trey?"

"Yes, Riddle?"

"Invite (Y/n) to tomorrow's Unbirthday party. It has become rather clear to me that no one can look after her the way the Queen demands, so I will step up and take on that task."

"Riddle..."

"She will be safe with me, I will do whatever it takes to ensure it."

[thelonestarinthesky]

³. ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵒʳᵉᵈ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵖᵗ ¹

⁺₊✦₊　　

pairing: senku x f!reader

chapter 3 of 2/2-i.senku

a/n: I'll be posting requests soon

⁺₊✦₊　　

Hanging out with the [H/C] haired girl wasn't actually half-bad; sure, she was annoying, but she had a passion for whatever Senku was reading or working on.

Since she was homeschooled, Senku always came over after school, not even bothering knocking, which Byakuya has tried to get him to at least be polite every time he dropped him off.

[Name] didn't really mind, she had grown used to waiting for the doors to the mansion to burst open after 4. Senku strolled inside like he owned the place before dragging her to the library to finish off where they started. While he was reading, she would be drawing on a piece of paper, and once he was done, she would sit quietly as he yaps along about what he learned.

The [H/C] haired's butler poured the juice into his cup as the girl munched on her cookie, listening to him.

"....anyways, my teacher at school asked us what we wanted to be when we were grown-ups. Obviously, I said I'm going to space." He says seriously. "But I'm going sooner than that." Senku looked proud at this.

"An astronaut?" [Name] says quietly, thinking of Byakuya.

࿐⸻༺ ෆ ༻⸻࿐

With Christmas coming along, [Name] had managed to walk to Senku's house, which was behind her home. With enough begging, her father had managed to help Byakuya move out of the apartment complex he and Senku lived in and into a bigger home.

Her butler had tagged along and when she rang the doorbell, Byakuya answered the door. "Oh, [Name]!!" He says cheerfully. "Senku isn't home yet, I'm guessing he's hanging out with his friend from school."

Taiju met her a couple of days ago after Senku had managed to sneak her into his school after classes were done. The three went to the park where Senku was using a magnifying glass to burn a paper using the sunlight hitting the glass.

Letting the two in, Byakuya lead them to sit down in the living room.

"I didn't see your car outside." She asked him. The man sighs sadly, clearly dejected. "I sold it." He says.

The [H/C] haired and her butler flinch at this. "I used the money to buy things for Senku; ever since he's been reading those books at your house, his interest in Science has grown a lot more."

"...." The girl looks up at him before looking down at the floor ahead of her.

Suddenly, getting up from the couch, "[Name] don't get up so fast-," she tugs on her butler's arm, "I changed my mind, let's go home, I haven't started on any presents." She exclaims.

Saying goodbye to Byakuya, the two left the Ishigami residence in a hurry.

"Grandpa Joel, I haven't started on Senku present." She says the older man who opens the door to her small craft room in her home.

"Also, I want to use my allowance to buy Byakuya a new car."

Grandpa Joel blinks at this, clearly taken aback by this. A 7-year-old wanting to buy a car is crazy. Luckily, her father was away for work so she could let one of the workers buy it using her card without him knowing.

Her butler has been by her side from the moment she turned 2, along with a nanny but she wasn't that close to her as she was with Joel. The old man was a loyal worker of her father for years, and so, he was entrusted with [Name] since then.

For Senku's present, she wanted it to be special since he was her very first friend.

"Grandpa Joel, I want to build a robot for Senku." She says proudly. "I know it's not gonna be perfect like my father's but I want this Christmas to be special." Joel looks down at her, clearly seeing how determined she is, not that he is surprised; she grew up to be very isolated from children her age, born into a wealthy family, setting her apart from those who were born in a lower class.

"....I'll help you, dear." He says, smiling as she beams with the biggest smile on her lips, one he's seen more now ever since Senku came into her life.

Once Christmas came along, [Name] opened the door for the Ishigamis and Taiju. With a warm greeting, she leads them to the living room, a large decorated tree in the corner with so many presents underneath.

After spending time together playing games, Senku watched as the girl started to give out presents to the workers of the mansion. Taiju got his gift soon after, then Byakuya, who she led outside to show him a brand new car of the newest brand.

"Here you go!" She says happily, handing him the keys.

Byakuya's mouth dropped to the floor as the girl hugged him before grabbing Senku and dragging him back inside the house while everyone else was simply frozen with shock.

Gathering his present, the [H/C] haired girl suddenly felt shy; the robot she was supposed to build him wasn't done yet, so she prepared something smaller for him. Fidgeting nervously, she handed him a small box that was wrapped neatly.

"It's not much, but I hope you'll use it for science." She says flustered.

Senku pulled a black card from the box. He read what was on it, and he was surprised. "....this is." He mumbles.

"I get an allowance from my father every month...and since you're my best friend, I want to share it with you." [Name] was flustered at this, the older girl was shaking from being way too nervous to see his reaction.

"Please use it well if it's going to benefit science. There's no limit."

࿐⸻༺ ෆ ༻⸻࿐

Senku was sitting in his room, thinking hard. The old man had brought him a ton of Science equipment for Christmas but he wanted to create something special for the [H/C] haired girl using it.

"[Name] really loves fireworks, the ones that sparkle on the stick, she told me that they remind her of the stars." He had asked Byakuya for what she would like, and the answer was pretty straightforward. A rich girl like her can get anything, but fireworks were her favorite...

His birthday arrived sooner than he expected. [Name] came over with a cake, and Taiju tagged along as well, holding a box in his hands. He asked about it, but Taiju simply told him that it was heavy for him to carry.

Singing happy birthday to him, Byakuya pushed the girl to his side.

"Just because it says Senku's name on the cake and present doesn't mean we can't sing for [Name] too!" He says Senku looks at her, seeing her flustered.

"So, happy birthday to Senku and [Name]." Joel, Byakuya and Taiju said happily.

That day, he learned that they shared the same birthday. When he asked her about it years down the line, she had simply answered that it was his day, she could've celebrated it a day after to make sure the day was about him.

Sitting down outside, the two were looking up at the stars before Senku was given a tiny box. Opening it, he found a small robot inside that resembled him. "I did my best, although Grandpa Joel helped a lot."

Seeking over to see his reaction, her eyes widened when she saw how in awe he was; his red eyes had the same sparkle every time he spoke about science, but they held something else she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

She felt her cheeks heat up, her heart skipped a bit as she continued to stare at him as he examined the robot that was the size of his hand. Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest the longer she stared at him, and she blushed even more when he looked up at her with a gentle smile.

masterlist taglist- @frootloopscos @itsnotsh1v4n1 @lovingyeet @kazuubaby @yn7857 @foulbreadpaenut

[slvt4felix]

I Could Never Hate You (Part |||)

Pairing -> ninthmember!reader x Lee Minho WC -> ~2,700 words Includes -> Reader has anxiety, fluff, and maybe some angst due to the beef with Hyunjin Summary -> You prepare for the day trying not to let your nerves for the concert later take over. This should be easy with Minho by your side but the grudge is still being held strong between you and Hyunjin. They say time heals, but can time heal this? Author's note -> Hi everyone! Welcome to part three of this little mini series. I didn't expect for this to be even more than one part but now I'm thinking it's gonna be around 4 or 5 parts to completely finish it off. I was gonna try and make this the final part but I realized writing short chapters feels much less overwhelming to me so I decided to break it down a little bit. I hope you like it! Let me know your thoughts in the comments <3

♡ Masterlist // Previous // Next ♡

"You have got to be joking right now..." you mutter to yourself as you frantically look around the bathroom. You had completely forgot to bring clothes to get dressed in after you showered. Hyunjin left a while ago and after a few laughs with your new love, you had decided to actually get ready for the day, realizing you can't spend the whole morning alone with Minho, no matter how much you want to. There's too many things to do today.

So, you had left Minho to go take a shower without too much thought. Well obviously not much thought considering you forgot your clothes. You could easily slip your pajamas back on and go get your clothes, but they were dirty and you were clean. You hate having to wear dirty clothes after a morning shower. It was supposed to be the start to a fresh day. With a concert later tonight, you are already anxious enough as it is. The shower did help a little, but this situation, although a bit silly, is souring your mood a bit. On days like these, you just want everything to go right, so it can get frustrating when little things happen. You take a deep breath, not wanting to let your thoughts go any further.

'Hyunjin would understand' you think, saddened by the events of last night. Normally, he would be the first one you would go to when you got nervous

You sigh, annoyed with your thoughts, and grab the wrinkled sweatpants and t-shirt. It'll have to do. You guys just started dating the day before, you don't wanna scare the poor man away by immediately walking out nearly naked with just a towel to cover.

Just as you're about to slip the shirt back on, your nose wrinkled in disgust, you notice a piece of black cloth resting on the counter next to the sink. Your mood instantly shifts as an idea pops into your head.

You swiftly grab it from the sink, unfolding it so that it is no longer inside out, and just like you thought a familiar design appears on the front. It's one of Minho's favorite shirts. He must of left in here last night when he changed into his pajamas. You smile, admiring the stupid drawings on the front. They are just so fitting to Minho.

Without a second thought, you slip the shirt on, getting a whiff of Minho's cologne as it passes over your face. Looking in the mirror, you notice that it covers just enough to not be too scandalous, especially with your underwear on. Minho wasn't too much bigger than you, but the couple inch height difference and his wider frame made for the perfectly oversized shirt.

It was the perfect solution; you got to wear Minho's shirt, you didn't have to walk out in a towel, and you didn't have to put all your clothes back on from last night. And hopefully, Minho's reaction will be an added bonus.

You open the door and venture out into the room, immediately seeing Minho. He's now fully dressed since he took a shower the night before when you were busy having an argument. He's on his phone patiently waiting for you while sitting in the chair Hyunjin had vacated just about an hour earlier.

He looks up upon hearing the bathroom door open, and you make eye contact. As he does so, his soft brown hair falls in front of his eyes. He uses a hand to brush it away, lightly threading through his hair. You see his eyes widen a bit at your choice of outfit and you send him a shy smile back before walking softly over to your suitcase. You bend over, making sure everything is still covered, and grab the casual clothes you had planned for today. You always dressed as comfy as possible before you had to get into the extravagant outfits the stylists prepared for the concerts. They weren't too bothersome, but sometimes the tight clothes weren't your preferred choice for all the dancing that comes with going on stage. But hey, at least you looked hot.

You stand back up after gathering the soft cotton into your hands. You're a little surprised upon feeling arms wrap around your waist. You smile as the scent of Minho's cologne yet again fills your senses; It's one of the many things you love about him.

He pulls you closer so you’re pushed against his front, his head resting on your shoulder. Your heart starts to best faster and you realize just how comforting his hugs are. You could really get addicted to this fast.

"You look so beautiful," he says softly. His breath hits your neck, sending goosebumps down the rest of your body. He doesn't say anything, but you know he had to have noticed. You're glad he doesn't make a remark, but you know just how caring and observant Minho can be. You can't help but think he's already stored that bit of information away for another time.

"My hair's wet, and I'm not even dressed yet," you say with a giggle.

"I know, I just can't believe I missed out on this for so long," he says as his grip around you tightens slightly. You can practically feel him start to recall memories from the past few years, of the way he used to treat you. It's a wonder how this is the same man who was ignoring you just days ago. But you wouldn't trade it for the world, you would stay in his arms forever if you could. He's the same Minho you used to know all those years ago, before all the insecurities got between you two.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door pulling the two of you out of your daydream.

"God, why can't they just leave us alone," he says, rolling his eyes. You just laugh at the remark, aware of just how much Minho really loves those guys. Sure, they can be annoying sometimes, but you grow to love it.

He brings his head off of your shoulder, pecking your cheek as he moves away. Heat floods your face, despite already having a more intimate kiss with Minho the night before. Your confident that no matter how long your relationship manages to last, his affect will never wear off. Minho is just the type of person you can't help but be in love with.

He shuffles away from you and you move to go back into the bathroom, excited to finally finish getting ready for the day. Minho opens the door, not thoroughly thinking through his actions, eager to get the conversation with whoever knocked over with.

You freeze in your spot halfway to the bathroom when you hear the hotel door open. You look up, seeing Chan on the other side just as you had expected. You're not too uncomfortable since practically all the boys have seen you in this state of dress before. After years of being in the same group, it's difficult not to walk in on each other. You don't mind too much anyway.

However, this may be one of the instances where a quick glance may be your downfall. Minho's shirt and no pants may be a bit too much for Chan to not question anything. Chan can be very scary when it comes to stuff that could affect the group as a whole, and a relationship could definitely do just that. Let's just say confessing to Chan was not one of your goals for the day.

"Hey Minho, we're having breakfast downstairs before we head out for the concert venue. So once you guys are ready just meet us down there," he tells your boyfriend. You can see a small smirk form on his lips as he says the last sentence. You know he's probably thinking about the plan the boys had formed last night to make you and Minho stay in the same room. If Chan was in on it, then everyone was in on it.

While waiting for Minho's response, Chan raises his head to see around him. You assume he's looking for you to ensure the other man will actually pass the news on. The two of you make eye contact, and it's unsurprising as you watch his eyes widen upon taking in your outfit. Your blush deepens, instantly ducking away into the bathroom, not wanting to be under his scrutiny any longer.

You finish getting ready, trying to block out the conversation from right outside the door. You honestly don't even want to know what Chan said after that whole fiasco.

When you go back into the main room, Chan is gone thankfully. He must of still had a few more of the boys to wake up.

Minho and you make your way downstairs to get breakfast together with the guys before it's time to head out for the busy day. Typically, hotel food isn't all that exciting for you. You much prefer to stop at a cafe or some other restaurant on the way, but today, waffles in the middle of a hotel lobby don't sound half bad.

On the way, you walk side by side, your heart skipping a beat whenever Minho looks your way. You glance down as he subtly touches his pinky to yours. You haven't had many relationships before, falling victim to the lack of romance related to the industry you’re in, so you can't help but wish to have the typical teenage romance you hear about in movies. You've dreamed of it for years and the fact that it's finally happening makes excitement bloom in your chest.

Minho takes the hint, clasping your hand in his, sending a smile your way. Emotion floods your body, making you feel as if you could take on the whole world with just his hand in yours.

When the two of you enter into the breakfast area, you subconsciously drop his hand, suddenly aware of how many people are around, fans and members alike. Felix looks up, noticing your presence and waves you over. There's two seats available, one at the end of the table next to Jeongin and the other next to Felix, which also happens to be directly across from Hyunjin, who all of a sudden looks a little too interested in his food.

Without a second thought you go to take a seat next to Jeongin, but Minho beats you to it. He flops down in the seat smiling cheekily.

'Asshole' you think, falling back into the habit of calling Minho names. He may not hate you anymore, but that doesn't diminish his love for annoying the absolute shit out of you. However, instead of making you roll your eyes in annoyance, it makes your hands twitch by your side, nerves flooding your body head to toe. You know it was his plan, but it really is not helpful at all right now.

Felix smiles up at you, yet if you take all the tension into account it could arguably be a grimace. He pulls the chair out, and you take a seat; your back is a little too straight and fingers are still picking at your cuticles. You don’t want to raise any questions, but sometimes you really can’t help your nervous habits.

There had been plenty of chatter when walking up to the table but it had stopped suddenly upon Felix waving you over. It hasn’t resumed since, and the looks your members are giving each other are not subtle in the slightest. It’s obvious they know something.

Just like you had thought, word must have gotten around fast. It’s just a question of who spilled the beans and what it is they all think they know. Is it about the fight with Hyunjin? The fact that you and Minho had slept in the same bed? Or perhaps it was because you were seen wearing his shirt this morning?

But who knows? Before you even have time to fully ponder the questions or for anyone to break the uncomfortable silence, there’s a loud noise gathering everyone’s attention.

Hyunjin had sent one final look of panic to Felix before abruptly pushing his chair back and storming out. Everyone looked up in shock and suddenly it’s very clear that they were not aware of the fight. How are you gonna be able to explain this one? You don't even understand what happened. I mean sure, Hyunjin and you had fought and you didn't make up yet so it was uncomfortable, but you don't know why he would feel the need to make a scene like that. You guys had interacted just fine this morning. Maybe he was just uncomfortable with the idea of having to pretend everything was fine. You aren't exactly hiding the fact that you aren't happy with him right now. Due to basically being two peas in a pod, Hyunjin can usually read you like a book.

You glance over at Felix in hopes that he knows what that was all about. It's not much help when all he sends back is a shrug and an apologetic smile.

Unsurprisingly, there were few words spoken after this; the majority of the silence only being filled with concerned looks.

So breakfast was a bit awkward to say the least...

Unfortunately, that is extremely worrisome considering the schedule for the rest of the day. You guys don't have time for awkwardness and unsettled fights. Yet, you also don't have time to resolve anything. A never ending cycle of tension, how exciting. It's one of the not so fun parts of being an idol; the fakeness of everything. You just have to hope your groups acting is going to be on point enough today to not draw any attention. Fans were nitpicky and it was always best to avoid as many rumors as possible. With how close you and Hyunjin are, there's bound to be questions if you don't act all buddy buddy like you usually do.

The group takes two separate cars to the venue, and you can't help but notice the members are a little different than normal. More specifically, Minho has taken the seat next to you which is typically occupied by Hyunjin. In fact, Hyunjin isn't even in the car anymore.

This isn't the first time the cars were specifically divided out. Years ago, they had to switch which car Minho was in to keep the chaos under control. Previously, Minho had been in the same car as you, but once tensions started running high between the two of you, he had immediately been switched in hopes to keep the peace. It seems that was exactly the goal of today. God, you need to stop making so many issues within the group.

It seems that as the day progresses things are just getting more stressful. Hyunjin is avoiding you, and you can't help but feel as if you're messing up the group's dynamics. Suddenly, you're reminded of the awkward encounter with Chan this morning. If he figures out everything that has happened, is he going to be frustrated with you? Maybe you just never really fit in the group to begin with.

With every mile closer to the venue, you feel like you're approaching your doom. This is not the right mental state to go on stage, but that wasn't exactly an option, now was it?

So for now, you simply grip Minho's hand tighter, hoping to quell the growing anxiety inside you. You just have to make it through the concert and then you can resolve all the issues happening.

But it's never that easy is it?

Taglist: @armystay89 @thisisnotjacinta @silentreadersthings @seungminsapuppy @linos-kitten @hafrenstay @redstayrosie

[localplaguenurse]

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone x Male Reader) pt 10

First and foremost, we've gotten quite a few pieces of fanart from @your-local-furby and @antartzz in the last little bit! We've got a smooch scene as well as a drawing and comic of MC with antartzz's oc Freida. I always get all mushy and/or feral when I get art so I really do appreciate it!

On a more serious note;

Content warnings: homophobia, as well as "queer" being used as a slur, verbal abuse/altercations, and attempted physical assault. (MC and his father get into a really bad argument while shopping.) There is also a bit of ableism but it's no more extreme than in previous chapters, and the homophobia is a much bigger thing in this chapter.

Please be cautious if that is a particularly triggering.

@thedeimoshimself @eli-chris

“Could you hurry it up already?” you hear your father ask, holding a package under his arm.

You look around the store shelves, eyes scanning over different brands of typewriter ribbons. Your fingers ache from carrying the basket of items, so you carefully swap hands. “I’d probably finish up faster if you actually helped me find the brand I need.”

Your father scoffs. “There can’t be that much of a difference between all the other brands here. I’m sure you can find… whatever it is you’re picky about from a different brand.”

“The ribbon I’m looking for is from the same company that made my typewriter,” you explain for what feels like the hundredth time, but is probably only the seventh or eighth time, “it’s specifically made for that particular brand, and since mine is an older model, it’s difficult finding adequate substitutes.”

“Have you ever considered getting a new typewriter? Something newer and more universal?”

“Why would I when the typewriter I have right now works fine?”

“Because your typewriter is older than you are,” your father states, “and I’ll give you credit, you take good care of it, but if something breaks, it’s going to be expensive and difficult to repair, and that’s if they’re even making parts for it anymore.”

“I will worry about that when it happens,” you reply, “but for now, I need ribbons, and I’m struggling to find them.”

Your father sighs. “What’s the brand again?”

“Fuscienne ruban d’encre.”

“What?”

“It’s a box with Fontainian on it,” you answer. “This store is the only place in town that sells it, and unless they’ve partnered with other suppliers in Fontaine, it should be the only one.”

Your father is quiet for a few moments, allowing you to go back to searching for your ink ribbons. The silence is nice, and it’s short lived when you hear the man sigh again. “... Is this what you wanted for a career?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Writing those… girly books.”

You give your father a look. “... Really?”

“What? That’s what they are.”

“They’re romance books. It won’t kill you to say the word romance.”

“And who reads them?”

“People who like romance.”

“Don��t play this game with me.”

“Just get to the point already.”

“I’m just saying writing isn’t the only career you could have chosen,” your father explains, “you had options when you were younger, and you still have options today. You talk about how you can only do certain things on account of your vision, but you act like they’re the only options you have.”

Your father’s words catch you off guard, and you are quiet for a moment as you mull them over. They’re… almost inspiring out of context, but in that condescending hand holding way. You can hear someone else who means well but doesn’t understand saying some of those words to you with a smile that’s too big, too bright, too rehearsed. Something that would have sufficed as motivational when you were little, but just leaves a bad taste in your mouth as an adult.

That said, this is your father, so it immediately raises a red flag. It’s one thing for him to make a backhanded comment, it’s another for him to say something that could be misconstrued into something well meaning when stripped of the full context. You know this, and you know it can only mean one thing.

Your eyes land on a small box, and you pick it up. You then sigh, realizing this isn’t your brand, the design just looks similar. You’re still looking at the shelf when you speak up. “So, why are you in the doghouse this time?”

“Excuse me?”

Your eyes finally spot the word Fuscienne. You momentarily forget the conversation and grin at the last box on the shelf. You snatch it and drop it into the basket.

Your father places a firm hand on your shoulder. “What did you mean by that?”

Right. You turn to face him. “Mom’s mad at you about a comment you made and is making you babysit me,” you reply, “I don’t care what it was you said, but I’m assuming she’ll forgive you if I said you did a good job helping me.”

(Which he really didn’t, because you are a grown man who has been to this store on his own many times before, and your father helping you navigate the store would make your outing even longer.)

Your father averts his eyes, and under his irritation, you see embarrassment shine through the cracks in his mask. He crosses his arms, and on a smaller figure, it would look like such a petulant gesture. It just looks pathetic for someone his age. “The faster we get this over with, the sooner we go home and you go back to your books.”

You answer by walking to the front of the store. The old man behind the counter grins when he sees you. “Find everything you were looking for?”

You nod, placing the basket on the counter. “Grabbed the last box of the Fuscienne ink ribbons. Lucky me.”

“You know, son,” the old man says, “I like to keep at least one pack of the Fuscienne in the back, just for you.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes! You’re one of my regulars, and I know you like that one, so I always make sure I have extra for you in case it sells out before our next order.”

You find yourself smiling. “That’s really kind of you.”

“It’s no problem.” He starts pulling items out of your bag, ringing them up before handing them to his son, who then begins to bag the items. “How is your book?”

His son gives him a quick look. “Father, remember?”

The man behind the counter goes pale. “O-Oh, right, I forgot about the, erm…”

“No, it’s fine,” you assure the man, “progress is good! Very good. I actually got a deal with the Yae Publishing House shortly after my old publisher dropped me. I’m actually waiting for them to get back to me with their final thoughts before I officially start my final draft.”

The man grins. “Oho! That’s delightful! How long do you think it will take before you get it published?”

“I should be hearing back within the week,” you answer, “and after that… a month maybe, and I’m still deciding between cover designs, and I’m not sure what their exact manufacturing and publishing process is, so… I’m not a hundred percent sure when I’ll finally have it out, haha.”

“So I take it you haven’t heard about your old publisher?” the son pipes up.

“What?”

“You don’t know? He’s gone bankrupt.”

Your eyes go wide. “What?! What do you mean?”

“Mountains of debt, from what some of the other writers and editors have said,” the son explains. “Rumour has it the reason he started terminating contracts and laying off editors was so the money would go to paying it all off while still getting a cut of the profits from the books they had published through him.”

“Son of a bitch,” you mutter, before you feel yourself go pale. “Wait, wait, when did this happen?”

“Just a couple days ago,” the son says, “I’m surprised your girlfriend didn’t tell you. She still works there, right?”

“My girlfr… Alik? No, they’ve been out of town visiting family. Archons, the shitshow they’re going to be coming home to…”

“Wait, she– they’re not your–”

“No, no, I’m… I’m not interested in them like that.”

The son stares at you, and you see the little twitch of his lips. “You know what? That makes sense.”

“The hell are you implying?”

Your father’s voice making his presence beyond your central vision known scares you. You turn and see him glaring at the young man. 

The old man speaks up. “S-Sir, my apologies, my son didn’t mean any–”

“Are you insinuating something about my son, boy?”

You turn and see the son’s horrified expression. “I-It was just a joke, some banter between friends! R-Right?” he asks, looking to you for help.

“Father, calm down,” you tell him, “it’s not a big deal.”

He glares harder at the young man. “You’d like it if you thought my son wasn’t interested in that girl ‘like that,’ wouldn’t you?”

By the Tsaritsa this cannot be happening.

“I swear to you sir, it was a bad joke, I promise you, i-it sounded funnier in my head and–”

“I think it’s best we start going to another business,” your father hisses, “I don’t need you leering at my son.”

Horror floods your system, eyes widening and mouth agape. You feel your father staring holes into you expectantly, waiting for you to announce your disgust and disdain at such implications and storm out. Stuck in place, you see the old man’s face first, and he’s in a state of shock, too caught off by the situation to get angry. Then your eyes land on the young man. You can see he’s also shocked, but more than anything he looks humiliated, scared even. He looks like he’s about to start crying, and the sight switches your absolute horror to absolute rage.

You whip around, teeth bared in anger. “What the fuck is your problem?!”

“What’s my problem?! Ask him!”

You push your father’s chest and he staggers back. You point at the front door. “You already bought your shit so why are you even still in here? Just leave already!”

“And leave you alone with this–”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO.”

The shop goes deathly quiet. Your father’s eyes widen, absolutely shocked by your vulgarity, before his eyes narrow again. His jaw clenches, and in the quiet, you can almost hear the creaking of his clenched teeth. He gives one more dirty look to the young man before he stomps off. He makes sure to slam the door on the way out.

Your mother says he’s a good man, there are still just some traditional things he prefers. He’s very supportive of your sisters’ career or schooling choices, and is endlessly proud of his son for meeting a hard working and loving woman. It’s a side of him that doesn’t always come up, but it rears its ugly head when it comes to you, with your love of literature and romance. You’ve never been sure if it’s because your specific career isn’t the most manly of jobs, or if it’s because writing isn’t as impressive to him as becoming a surgeon or a lawyer or taking over the family business. Regardless, you’ve seen and heard some rather ignorant opinions from him. Your mother doesn’t approve of it, but her attempts at discouraging it are little more than a look, or a hand placed gently on the shoulder and a harshly whispered “honey” or “Mikhaïl.” 

Still, what the fuck was that?

You’ve by now memorized how much your purchases will cost. Fuscienne ink ribbons, stack of paper, and some envelopes. You know roughly how much the amount would weigh in your hand, so when you reach into your pouch and pull out a rather hefty handful of golden coins, it’s purposeful.

You pour the mora into the old man’s hand. “T-Take this, I am so, so sorry, I’ve never… I’ve never seen him react like that to anything.”

The old man looks at the mora in his hand. “This… This is too much, I can’t–”

“I don’t care, please take it as an apology on my behalf,” you insist. You step back and meet his son’s eyes. You place your hand on your chest, your face burning with embarrassment. “I-I can’t tell you how fucking horrified I am, and I am so sorry this happened. He’s said stupid shit before but this is new, I-I don’t know what happened but that is not okay.”

The man sniffles. “N-No, I made the joke, I–”

“It’s not your fault,” you tell him, “and, um, if I’m honest, y-your joke wasn’t off the mark, but I…” You shake your head. “You two will always be my go to shop whenever I need supplies, so I truly cannot tell you how awful I feel about this, I’m really sorry.”

The young man forces a smile, and nods, still distressed. His father pats him on the shoulder and gestures to a door behind them. You watch him step away from your things and head through the door, and you can hear the shaky breath he lets out through the closed door.

The man takes over bagging your items, which isn’t much considering you only bought a couple things, but he’s deliberately slow in the process. You wonder why, until he speaks in a soft tone. “So… you’re like my son.”

Picking up on the meaning behind his words, you immediately feel even worse about what just happened, feeling physically nauseous. “I am, if you’re talking about… not having girlfriends.”

He nods. “Not many people know, and not many bring it up,” he says, “this is the first time something like this has happened to him in the store. I… I think he’ll appreciate what you’ve done today when he’s not so shaken up. I know I do.”

You find yourself smiling, but not out of joy. “It’s nothing, really. People are fools, and my father is a court jester. It’s honestly the least I could have done, I feel.”

“Either way, I appreciate it,” he says, and then he hands you your things. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I will be,” you say, “I’m just about sick of his shit anyways, if you’ll pardon my vulgarity, and if I don’t rip into him then my mother will. Again, I am so sorry.”

“You take care now, son.”

You smile and nod, your chest tight with worry and face burning with embarrassment. Not much else is said, but there’s not really a whole lot else to say. You take a deep breath, brace yourself, and step outside.

Your father stops his pacing and immediately goes off when you step outside. “Where the hell do you get off embarrassing me like that?!”

Having lost all patience with him today, you immediately match his tone and energy and yell back. “Oh don’t give me all the credit, you did a fine enough job of that yourself!”

“That boy was out of line!”

“So you started berating him in front of his father? You started insulting him?”

“Do you not understand how inappropriate that joke was?”

“No, enlighten me.”

“He was implying you’re a queer! A queer! Why aren’t you upset about that?!”

There it is again.

You press on. “Why should I be?”

“You know why!”

“What the hell is your problem? Why are you so mad about that?”

“What are people going to say if they think I raised a queer?”

“It can’t be anything worse than what they’re going to say about you going off on an old man and his son for stupid reasons!” You grin angrily at him. “Front page, ‘owner of Kuznetsov Shipping Company verbally abuses shopkeeper's son.’ Like you need the bad press when you’re starting to get your shit back together. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you today?”

“What’s wrong with me? I could ask the same thing to you!” your father spits. “You’re going to defend some… some…!”

“Let’s not say anything too deplorable now,” you tell him, like a parent talking to a fussy toddler, “you might want to save that for when we get home.”

“This is your fault,” your father growls.

“How is this my fault?”

“Those prissy little fairytales you keep writing,” he answers, “they think you’re a queer.”

“And what… what’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong with– son, are you gay?”

“What? No! Besides, I don’t have to be gay to think you’re being an ass, I can still see you, and they can probably hear you spouting hate from the palace.”

“You don’t have a wife, or a girlfriend, you don’t try to find one, and you spend all day reading girly books!”

“Like you’re any better,” you snap, and then immediately regret.

“What was that?”

Fuck. Well, you’re already in it now.

“You are obsessed with Pantalone,” you tell your father, “obsessed with getting on his good side, obsessed with making sure he likes you, your practices, that we don’t embarrass you in front of him, you even hijacked the afternoon tea he invited me and only me to! You want to point fingers and call me gay because I write romance? At least all my books are about men and women! You literally spend every day thinking about how to impress another man.”

You watch your father wind his arm back, but he’s stopped and seized by gloved hands. You step back in surprise, and when he’s pulled back, you can see he’s been grabbed by two guards. It brings you back to the present moment, and reminds you that you aren’t one of two people in the whole world. You look around the snowy street and see people, couples and families and a couple tourists, frozen in their spots on the street just staring at the spectacle. You look up at the shop and see the old man watching you, concerned.

“Unhand me!” your father yells.

“Sir, I’m going to ask you to calm down before you do anything stupid,” replies the guard.

A third guard steps out from behind the first tow and approaches you. “What is the meaning of all this yelling?”

“A-Ah…” You look over and spot your dad, no longer resisting, glaring daggers at you. “It’s… a family dispute.” 

“A family dispute?”

“Look, I’m sorry about causing a scene,” you answer, “my father and I had a disagreement, no one got hurt–”

“Because we stopped him from hitting you.”

“I know, I know, just…” You sigh. “I don’t want to press any charges, if there’s a fine for disturbing the peace, we’ll pay it.”

The guard looks to the other two, then to your father. He sighs, then turns back to you. “... Fine. We’re letting you off with a warning.” He looks over at your father and points at you as he addresses him. “You’re only off the hook because of him,” he says, then turns to you, “and you’re still on your feet because we stepped in. Remember this next time you let a family dispute get heated.”

“O-Of course, sir,” you reply.

The guards let your father go, and he gives them a dirty look while he straightens his coat back out. You don’t bother with sticking around, electing to instead turn around and walk down the street of murmuring people. Your father doesn’t bother calling out for you to follow him home, heading in the opposite direction instead.

You keep your gaze forward as you head to a currently unknown destination, just wanting to be anywhere else. Maybe the bakery down the road, something sweet would do a good job washing the bitter taste out of your mouth. 

The Pantalone comment was stupid, you think as you happen to pass the man himself, though your humiliation and wish to not be seen makes you figuratively blind to that fact (as well as literally). He stops when he recognizes who just passed him, half tempted to call out and ask how you’re doing, but refrains. Your body language is obvious and painfully honest, almost to a fault, and he can see you want to vacate the area as soon as possible. When he happens to look the other way, recognizing the silhouette of your father angrily storming in the opposite direction, he sighs.

“So that’s what all that racket was…”

[quintessenceofdust88]

Fuck it Friday

I was tagged by @bidisasterevankinard, @agentpeggycartering, @laundryandtaxesworld and @fairytalegonewronga03 (thank you so much lovelies!! ♥) Here's a snippet of chapter 5 of Tsunami Fic!

It’s been three days since the tsunami, and Tommy is finally ready to let Vivie out of his sight for more than ten minutes; they’ve spent pretty much all of their time at home as both her and Sal recover from it all, physically and emotionally. Sal’s been staying with them, and Tommy’s insisting he stays until his medical leave is over in a week.  

But now Tommy needs to go for his first shift since everything happened, and he’s pretty sure Sal is having a harder time with it than Vivie. While his daughter is happily lying on the floor, her socked feet swinging in the air as she colors a piece of paper, his best friend is eyeing Tommy warily from where he’s sitting on the couch, as he ties his shoes. 

“Tommy”, he mutters. “Are you sure you want to do this? You… I won’t be offended if you get a babysitter or take her to someone else, you know? I… I’d understand after…”

Tommy sighs; he’s tried to blow off every single apology Sal sent his way ever since the tsunami. They’re safe, and Vivie is completely fine, and Tommy doesn’t blame Sal for any of it. But that doesn’t mean Sal is convinced, and Tommy’s starting to think he’ll need an extra hand. 

“Vivie?” He calls. 

“Yeah?” She answers, still focused on her drawing. 

“Do you want Daddy to call someone else to take care of you while I work?” Tommy asks, and that makes her raise her head in alarm. 

“Why?! Is Uncle Sal not okay?! Are you feeling bad, uncle Sal?” She rushes to them, throwing herself in Sal’s lap. He wraps his arms around her, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I’m feeling fine, darlin’, don’t you worry about me.” He tells her, ruffling her hair, and she sighs in relief. “Do… you want me to take care of you?” Sal asks, sounding impossibly insecure, and Vivie glares at him in a way that’s eerily reminiscent of Tommy’s own bitchy expression. 

“Duh, uncle Sal, you’re my favorite uncle. You play the best games and you sing Barbie songs with me!” She tells him as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Tommy, in his defense, does his best not to look smug, but he doesn’t think he actually succeeds. As he finishes tying his shoes, he gets up, raising an eyebrow at Sal, who’s glaring at him.

“Well”, Tommy quips, grabbing his car keys. “I guess that settles the matter, doesn’t it? You guys have fun signing Barbie tunes as I go to work. You behave for your uncle, pixie, okay?”

He presses a kiss to Vivie’s forehead, half expecting her to say goodbye to him and cuddle up against Sal. What she does instead is gasp and scramble out of her uncle’s lap, rushing back to her paper. As she grabs it, a healthy amount of glitter falls on the floor, and Tommy doesn’t even want to think about the clean-up. He guesses he could ask Sal to take care of it, but it doesn't seem like a fair thing to the concussed guy. 

“Wait, Daddy!” She says, and then she shoves the card into his hand. “You have to take this!”

Tommy frowns, and looks down at the card. His cheeks instantly blush when he sees the wobbly ‘To: Mr. Evan’ that’s written on the top corner, along with a much neater ‘From: Genevieve’ on the bottom (she’s only five, but she’s already a master at writing her own name, Tommy is proud to say). There’s a very glittery blue heart in the middle, and when Tommy opens the card to take a peak, he sees two sticky figures: Genevieve, holding Marsh, and a bigger one that can only be Evan, based on the blue eyes and the small pink birthmark drawn above one of them.

---

Np (real np cause it's barely Friday for me, and I think it's not Friday anymore for a lot of people hehe) tagging @unhingedangstaddict @littlepaws9 @typicalopposite and whoever else would like to join!! ♥

[thatonecrookedsmile]

"Above everything else,stay away from the Ink Demon. He likes to smile,and he kills anything that moves."

-----

I said before that I wanted to post the stuff that I did for the SOTM 1 year anniversary drawing that I posted a while ago,so here it is! The first one,that is. The Ink Demon himself. Since I was going to put some filters on him and push him into the background, I thought it would be good to post the original drawing separately and without filters (there is, I admit, a filter over him in this one, but it's pretty unnoticeable) so people could see him better. I was pretty happy with how it turned out, and I wanted to show him off.

The thing with the BATDR Ink Demon is that I think he has a very cool design,its just that i'm not used to drawing characters that are more "monstrous" (if that's the word) in design so drawing him can sometimes be a little tricky for me. At least with his body I can find my way and draw something that I'm kind of happy with, but the head was what I always had trouble with. Both the shape of the horns and the shape of the head were always difficult for me to get right. Happy to say this time,I got it. Probably my best attempt at drawing the DR Demon in a good while. Think I'll use this drawing as a reference for future drawings featuring the guy.

Coloring and detailing was also a fun process. I like to try to replicate a lot of the details of the in-game model in drawings like this. Maybe a little unnecessary when only half of the drawing appears in the final result and under filters, but it's not something I regret doing (at least in this case. Just wait until I show you the Bendy dummy)

Something that I realised a while ago is that I never really posted a drawing in here that featured the DR Demon as the center of the piece. Yeah,there is the BATDR 1 Year anniversary drawing from 2023 and again,the recent SOTM one,but I'm talking about him being The center of the drawing,not sharing the spotlight or just being part of a bigger project,and appearing from the front and in his entirety, not from behind or just part of him,you know. Which is quite surprising to me,because I really like his Dark Revival design,so you'll think at this point I would have already made a drawing dedicated to him. I'll like to change that eventually.

I have an ideia for something that I wanna do with him. It's more of a test than an actual full-on drawing,but I think it will be interesting to do nonetheless. So that will make for at least 2 drawings with the Ink Demon (the other being with the BATIM design) that are,hopefully,upcoming.

When I have time - or when I feel like it - I'll post the other digital drawings that I did for that piece. Which is basically the more SOTM centric ones,so Gaskette,Fred,Dumdy and Guffie. Only reason I posted Inky separated is because I wanted to give the spotlight for him first :P.

Have a good one folks.

(And happy anniversary BATIM Chapter 4! I wish I had something that would be more appropriate for the occasion :,))

[prophecyofwinter]

Across the Sea and to the East

Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Summary: Under your uncle’s usurpation of your brother you have been sent away to hide in Lys under House Rogare. You’ve found new purpose with the Lord of Light but you will be called home soon.

Tags: slight slow burn, actual burning, violence, smut, angst, tags will be added as we go.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Prologue

Chapter 3: Lemon Scented Letters

“You know it is not good luck for one to fall asleep after morning prayer.”

You groan as thin curtains were forced apart allowing the full force of the sun to shine through. You roll over to cover your face, maybe if you hid away she’d let you sleep. The pups at the foot of your bed stretched and jumped off to go seek out the cooks for some type of meat scraps.

They get bigger and bigger every day, it’s been almost a month since you’ve received them and they have grown quickly.

“Did you know it is bad luck to wake the Lady of Light at any point?”

“I will take my chances Y/N. It’s almost midday!”

You sigh in defeat and roll over to your back, letting out a big puff of air blowing your hair out of your face. Thankfully you don’t have anything to do for the rest of the day, just you, Tyanna, and a bunch of cute little sandwiches.

“Tyanna, the cooks are serving those finger sandwiches for Luncheon aren’t they? Cucumbers are in season aren’t they?”

Suddenly you hear stomping leading up to your room and the abrupt sounds of your guards berating the individuals at the doorstep of your personal chambers. You recognize the voice instantly… fuck.

“Let Priest Titus in!”

Red Priest Titus, he’s one of the oldest in the temple and came over on a pilgrimage to bear witness to you. He’s one of the few who believes in you but still gives you a hard time with your choices.

“When were you going to tell me?!”

He could be talking about any number of things, for an old wise man he fumes up far too easily. Reminds you why he doesn’t deal with the politics of the temple.

“If you wanted to join us for luncheon you could’ve just asked.”

“You know very well I am not talking about finger sandwiches!-“

“Well I only want to talk about finger sandwiches so this must wait until after…”

The old man was very clearly fuming, about to bust at the seams of his Red robes. You had no idea what he was talking about but just to see him getting mad makes your day.

“This absolutely cannot wait! When were you going to mention to- to- to anyone that you were going back to Westeros!”

“No one is going back to Westeros! Not soon at least-“

“Then explain this!”

A letter is thrown at you, but it is an open piece of paper so it just flutters to the ground a few feet in front of Titus with a more embarrassed look on his face while you lay slightly amused.

“Well. Now what.”

“Allow me to get that my Lady…”

Tyanna rushes from the other side of the room to grab the piece of parchment off of the floor and handing it over to you and backing away slowly.

You rub your tried eyes and unwrinkle the letter that had been so foolishly tossed to the floor and began to read unamused.

To the Court of the Lady of Light

The Crown of Westeros and House Targaryen humbly requests the beloved presence of the illustrious Lady of Light.

By the turn of the next moon, we wish to be gifted with her graces presence.

We hope to hold a banquet in her honor, as we understand it draws near to the Feast of the First Sun.

We would be honored to host the week of festivities in tandem with the Faith's own Summers Night Feast in Kingslanding.

Alongside her grace and her Courtesans, will be joined by his royal highness King Viserys and Queen Alicent with their children Prince Aegon Targaryen, Princess Helaena Targaryen, and Prince Aemond Targaryen. Other Houses may be in attendance at their own will.

Sincerely, the Crown of Westeros.

Your face softens as you read and a soft lemon scent wafts through your nose, clearly it was soaked into the paper somehow.

He knows… He really knows…

“Aemond…” you whisper delicately while stroking his name written on the paper.

“This is an insult! They dare try to dirty our grand feast with- with- their shit copy!” You can barely hear Titus over the blood in your ears.

“We must go, write them back immediately.”

“Forgive me for saying but have you been inhaling too much Ash my Lady?! You do not know what they have planned!”

You hop up from your bed almost immediately, you felt the need to defend Aemond. No one here knows him, and to assume he would have this sent out to harm you?

“Aemond would not allow!- The Targaryens would not allow such acts on their grounds!”

You feel the room get cold and silent even with the humid summer heat. Your outburst you’ll admit was uncalled for but, if Aemond wants to see you, you shall be seen.

Titus’s face hardens and zones in on you and the letter in your hands and lets out a strained breath admitting his own defeat.

“I see, very well. I am bound to you, I go where you go my Lady.”

“Have a Priest write a letter back confirming our attendance, and Tyanna, gather members for a procession to escort and attend to me during our stay. After luncheon of course.”

Titus’s quick defeat should worry you, clearly the mention of Aemond made him realize something. The relief and serenity of the thought of being back in Westeros, even if not the North. Is too great for you to think about much else.

Oh Aemond…

——————————

“I heard Lys is nice this time of year.”

Alicent feels her body tense up at the mention of the three lettered country, especially when it falls from Aemonds mouth. She takes a long sip of her tea to articulate her thoughts, but the worry eats at her tongue regardless. Even the gardens that surround them help none to ease her stress.

“You have no business in Lys, you’ve never been. Why the interest in Lys?”

Aemond walks closer to the table where his mother sits and pulls out his own chair to take a seat across from his mother. Hands folded neatly, no elbows on the table as his mother taught him so, deep breath in long breath out.

“I read a book in the library, about the Lord of Light and the temple in Lys. A rather new book actually, published in High Valyrian around 2 years ago. It tells about their new Deity, the Lady of Light. Few know her name but they describe her with features from the First Men-“

“Do not torture me any longer, I cannot bear it. Aegon babbled to you, didn't he?”

Aemond sits for an extra moment longer, thinking about where he wanted this to go. What he really wanted to come from this interaction.

Maybe he would make his Mother sit in it a little longer.

“Aegon talks about a lot of things Mother, which do you speak of? I just wanted to tell you of my studies, since we tell each other important information.”

Alicent knows she’s asked for this to some extent. She knew Aegon would tell Aemond but she didn’t think it would happen this soon. She knows Aemond cares about this girl and he wants her to suffer just a little.

“Gods! I’m sorry that I did not tell you but need I remind you how you reacted the last time she was mentioned! I didn’t know where you were, you disappeared for days!”

Aemond says nothing, he sits there and twiddles his thumbs. Maybe he was sitting there to think or maybe to just see if his mother kept going. It was a cloudy day, no burning sun coming down on Aemonds black leather clothes, he could sit here all day if he wanted to. Normally the hot weather makes it too hot for him to think clearly.

“What would you have me do Aemond? Invite her here? So your eyes can meet and embrace each other while crowds clap and cheer, then marry and run away into the sunset?-“

“That’s exactly what we shall do. I read in the same book that they hold the Feast of the First Sun at the same time as the Summers Night Feast.”

Aemond had thought this through delicately it seems… What he asks is a tall order, not realistic in the slightest. However, if Alicent desires to place Aegon on the throne, Aemond having the fancy of a powerful religious leader wouldn’t… not help.

How would she get the faith to approve of such an activity though? To break bread to who they believe are heretics… The North has the Old Gods, the Targaryens have the Valyrian Gods…

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 23/34 - filing cabinet

[Read on AO3]

The water cooler gurgles as he fills a small paper cup and takes a sip. Today had been the day. After weeks of going through personnel files for prospective replacements, they finally met with a few candidates. He meant what he said to Scully; he’s ready to let go of the reins a little. That doesn’t make the actuality of handing over the X-Files any easier.

Force of habit, he thinks, to resist any and all efforts to boot them from the X-Files. He has to keep reminding himself that it was his idea this time, and that they’d still be working on them in a consulting capacity anyway. He isn’t quitting cold turkey. And besides, they’re moving on to bigger and much better things.

Lost in thought, he doesn’t notice at first when a few other guys gather around, each filling their own cups with water.

“So, Garcia,” the first one says, addressing a man Mulder vaguely recalls works in Organized Crime. “I hear the wife’s about to pop. You ready?”

Agent Garcia smiles, nodding his head. “Oh yeah. We’re going out tonight. One last night on the town before the baby gets here, you know?”

“You gotta do it,” another agent says. Agent Mann, or something silly like that, Mulder thinks. “They call it a ‘babymoon,’ you ever heard of that? My wife and I took a trip down to the Isle of Palms for ours before Michael was born. Great beaches. Now we’re lucky if we make it to the coast without one or all of our kids ingesting sand.”

The men share a hearty laugh, and Mulder feels a little out of place.

“Amy would have killed me if I hadn’t taken her out for a nice dinner before our first,” the first agent says. “It was another two years before we were able to go to a nice restaurant alone, so I wouldn’t have blamed her!”

Is this something people do, Mulder wonders? Is Scully expecting it? Maybe he had missed the memo at some point. Is there a soon-to-be-dad handbook somewhere that tells them how to win points with their wives before they become parents? Should he have come up with a plan to do something special for Scully? Their lives are about to irreversibly change, and he hadn’t even considered, really, that very soon, it won’t be just the two of them anymore. There will be a third person, someone entirely dependent on them just to stay alive.

He fills his paper cup again, feeling sweat begin to form under his collar.

Dinner. He can do dinner, that’s a good idea. He should ask her. One last hoorah as the infamous Mulder-Scully duo for old times’ sake. She’d like that.

With a polite nod and a forced smile at his fellow agents around the water cooler, he heads back toward the elevator, and back to the basement.

-.-.-

“Hey, there you are,” Scully says as he shuts the door behind him. She’s elbow deep in one of the filing cabinet drawers, evidently rooting around at the back for a stray piece of paper that has escaped a folder. “Help me figure out which files to make copies of. I know you’re going to want to keep some of them,” she says.

She knows him so well. He’s already started making a mental list of ones he wants to have in his personal collection. The Bellefleur file, for example. And of course, the ones with his name or Scully’s in it, but those are for much less happy, nostalgic reasons.

Slouching his suit coat off his shoulders, he rolls up his sleeves and approaches the drawer, offering his assistance in reaching the wayward scrap of paper. Her little arms are too short, a fact which he intends to tease her about later. His fingers successfully find the edge of the document, and he extracts it with careful precision.

A familiar picture stares back up at him, giving him a hearty chuckle.

“Remember this one?” he asks, turning his sketch of the Jersey Devil back toward her.

She laughs as she takes it from him, inspecting it. “How could I forget?” she says, “I think this image is forever ingrained in my psyche.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of my drawing,” he says. “I want a copy of that file. With my beautiful artwork, please.”

She rolls her eyes, but opens up a folder and slides the paper in its rightful place. He can’t help but notice it was already in the ‘to-be-xeroxed’ pile before he said anything.

The office falls silent as he continues rifling through the cabinets, plucking out a file here and there that he wouldn’t mind keeping. It’s a walk down memory lane, for him. Flukeman, Big Blue, the vampire sheriff in Texas… Who would have thought that seven years later, he’d still have Scully by his side as he prepares to let go of what became his life’s work? Their life’s work. She should have run screaming from here years ago, but she didn’t.

Now look where it’s gotten them.

Glancing up at her from over the top of the overstuffed file drawer and filled with a sudden surge of gratefulness that he doesn’t know what to do with, he blurts, “Let’s go out to dinner tonight.”

She freezes, and he mentally kicks himself for the hasty delivery of his idea. Theoretically, he should have planned a better way to ask her. After a second that feels like an eternity, she turns to him with a skeptical tilt to her brow and a small smile. 

Well, at least he knows he’ll still get to see her make that expression at him even when they’re off the X-Files.

“I mean, we could try that new place in Dupont Circle. The one your mom was telling you about? If you want.”

“What’s the occasion?” she asks, folding her arms expectantly in front of her chest as she leans back in his office chair.

“You know,” he shrugs, “pretty soon it won’t be just us anymore, and I– I like… spending time with you… So I just thought it would be nice to—”

She smiles shyly. “That sounds great, Mulder,” she says, interrupting his fumbling explanation. “Tonight at seven?”

He grins, ducking his head to hide his goofy expression. “Yeah, seven. I’ll make the reservations.”

-.-.-

In hindsight, this is a crazy idea. The restaurant they’re going to is extravagant. Ostentatious. And he knows Scully knows it, too. The margin of error for plausible deniability here is extremely small, and if she doesn’t have some idea of his feelings for her already, he’s going to have a hard time keeping it that way as they sit in a low-lit room munching on those fancy breadsticks and drinking expensive wine.

What had he been thinking? He asked her out without even sparing it a thought, not realizing how it would sound. To be going out on a date with your best friend who is also technically your wife? Langly and Frohike were right. He is an idiot. What is he supposed to do on this ‘date?’ How is he supposed to act? Does she expect anything from him? Is this his last chance to make a move? What does it mean that this is one of the last nights they’ll spend alone together before someone literally hands them a baby and lets them take it home?

The idea of making a move, after all this time spent explicitly trying not to do exactly that, has him in a spiral. He paces around the floor in his bedroom, trying not to think about what dress Scully might be putting on in her room on the other side of the hall or what she might be doing with her hair.

He can’t upset the status quo like this with the baby due any time in the next few weeks, can he? Bad idea. Bad, bad, idea. But at the same time, when else would he get the chance? He’d heard what the other agents had said… it was years in some cases before new parents got the chance to really be alone. What if he had to spend the next several years silently pining for his own wife in the home they share together, watching her be a mother to the baby they adopted? Maybe there’s a reason people don’t get into arrangements like this with their platonic best friend, after all.

How stupid was he to think he could do this without letting his feelings get in the way? Why on earth didn’t he just tell her months ago, before all this started, instead of getting his hopes up?

The answer, of course, is that he wants this. He wants this family more than anything, even if it's never anything more than friendship and cohabitation with Scully. He would have scared her away if he told her the same day she found those adoption brochures on his desk. It would be too much at once. He knows her, she would have been overwhelmed.

But, man… What if?

He checks his reflection in the mirror one more time, smoothing his hair into place. He hopes he didn’t overdo it on the cologne. Should he be wearing a tie? He puts on one that Scully got him several years ago, complete with a tie clip he’d gotten from her mother at Christmas.

He hesitates over the chain he wears under his shirt. What would Scully think if he took it off and wore it on his finger tonight? He finds that he wants to. Just a normal husband and wife grabbing dinner together. Without giving it much thought, he loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button of his shirt to free the necklace from its usual place. He knows that if he gives it much more consideration, he’ll talk himself out of it, so he pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind and slides the band onto his left ring finger.

There. He’s ready.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door to his room, intent on continuing his pacing in the living room if Scully isn’t ready to go yet.

“I’ll be ready in a minute,” he hears her call from the bathroom as his door creaks open. At a quick glance, he can see the back of an elegant dress he’s never seen before, black with a neckline that swoops down low in the back. She stands at the sink, fastening an earring in place, and it feels like junior prom all over again.

“Oh, I’m in deep trouble,” Mulder mutters to himself, rubbing his hands over his face. Forcing himself to turn away, he walks straight to the kitchen and fills up a glass of water, downing it in record time.

Not five minutes later, he hears her emerge, and he prepares himself for the sight of her.

Sure enough, it knocks the breath out of him, a fact which he makes every attempt to hide. He’s pretty sure she catches it, though, because the corner of her mouth quirks up and her eyes drift to the floor, as if she were somehow self-conscious about her appearance.

Impossible.

He’s suddenly very glad he opted for the tie, if this is what she's wearing to dinner. Although, it’s feeling a little tight, at the moment. 

“You, uh—” he starts, at a loss for words. His mouth is bone dry, despite the water he had just chugged a few minutes ago. “You—”

“Thanks,” she says, mercifully sparing him from further embarrassment. She tucks a gently curled tuft of hair behind her ear, drawing his attention to the careful way she’s arranged it. “I figured this might be my last chance to get properly dressed up for a while, so… It’s been… years, I suppose, since I’ve had the occasion to.”

This just confirms it. He’s been an idiot. Years of missed opportunities, chances he’s wasted. He could have been taking this gorgeous, magnificent woman out to fancy dinners all the time, if he’d just been able to pull himself together and see past the end of his own rather distinguished nose. 

If time travel is ever invented, he’s gonna use it to go back in time and kick his own—

“Mulder?” she says, smiling amusedly at him. He gets the sense that that’s not the first time she’s tried to get his attention, and he feels his cheeks warm. “I said, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he chokes out, finding his voice at last. She reaches down to grab her purse, and he coughs to clear his throat. “Yeah, let’s go.”

She shakes her head at him in mock admonition, but happily accepts his proffered arm as they exit out the front door of the apartment. In the hall, he glances down, taking in the sight of her hands wrapped comfortably around his right bicep.

Her ring. She’s wearing it. He swears his heart might leap out of his chest at the thought. This might just be the thing that does him in. Put it on his death certificate. ‘Cause of death: the woman he loves is wearing his ring.’ What a way to go.

He doesn’t say anything—couldn’t, even if he wanted to—but he can tell that she saw him take notice. How could he not, with the way it sparkles on her finger, like it belongs there? He feels her hold loosen, and it stirs up a mild panic in his chest. She shouldn’t be embarrassed. Please, please don’t be embarrassed.

He lifts his hand to stop her from releasing him, running his thumb over the diamond inset on her finger. It’s okay, he’s saying. Look, I’m wearing mine too.

He sees the moment her eyes fix on his ring, as he rests his left hand over hers on his arm. She avoids his eyes, but he can tell she’s moved. She swallows back her emotion, and her hold on him tightens again, which sends a wave of relief through his body. 

“Come on, we’ll be late for our reservation,” he says, his voice low, just for her ears. 

She nods, and lets him lead the way.

-.-.-

His first mistake was thinking that he could get day-of reservations at one of the trendiest places in all of Washington, D.C. His second mistake was not considering that his straightforward request for a table that evening might somehow be misconstrued to mean that evening a year from now. 

It takes all his self restraint not to raise his voice at the host at the host stand, because really, why would he be asking for something like that? He’d like to give them a little lesson on the use of the English language, but he won’t, only because Scully is there and he doesn’t want to completely ruin the evening.

She’s there watching him as all this takes place, undoubtedly amused as he fights back frustration. After a moment, her hand lands on his arm, her typical method of pulling him back from the brink of a poor decision that she’s perfected over the years, and she shakes her head.

“It’s alright, Mulder,” she says. “We can just go somewhere else.”

Yeah, but where?

“Have a good evening,” the host says dismissively, and his tone is just a little bit too smug for Mulder’s taste. It reminds him of stuffy dinners with his father’s associates or interactions he had with the pompous law students at Oxford. Maybe they don’t want to eat here after all.

Scully feels him tense under her touch, and gently guides him out of the restaurant before he can respond. What would he do without her? He’d probably get beaten up a lot more often, that’s for sure. Or at least kicked out of places, like he would have been tonight.

She leads him outside, and soon enough, they’re standing on the sidewalk by the street, at a loss for what to do next.

“I’m sorry, Scully,” he says, mentally kicking himself for screwing this up so badly. “I just wanted to do something special, and now—”

“Mulder,” she stops him. “Seriously. It’s okay. I’m happy with wherever we decide to go tonight. This is about spending time together, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let's go,” she says, grabbing his hand. “Come on, I have an idea.”

She holds tight to him as she leads them down the sidewalk, passing other couples on the street on this lovely spring evening. He has no idea where she could possibly be taking them, but she’s in a great mood, so he tries not to let the minor setback ruin his night. If she’s happy, then he’s happy.

The sun draws closer to the horizon, casting a golden glow on everything and everyone it touches. It makes her hair shine like fire, and once again he counts his blessings. It feels a little bit like the night of their wedding, and that thought brings a smile to his face.

They walk past several up-scale restaurants, and Scully doesn’t even spare them a glance. Wherever she’s taking them, she must know the way there. After a couple more blocks, she comes to a stop, standing out front of a greasy diner, maybe just a little nicer than the ones they frequent in small-town America. 

“Really?” he asks, looking dubiously up at the neon sign. “You sure you don’t want to go somewhere a little fancier, Scully? You got all dressed up.”

Her answering smile is resplendent in the glowing light.

“I want to eat here, Mulder,” she says, stepping toward the entrance. A bell above the door jingles as she pushes it open. “It seems fitting, doesn’t it?”

It does. A wave of nostalgia hits him like a truck when he realizes why she brought them here. Why a diner, of all places, would be the place she chooses for their ceremonial last meal, just the two of them. He can’t count how many formica tabletops just like this one they’ve shared a meal at, over the years. Hundreds of hamburgers with a side of fries, maybe a milkshake they end up splitting when Scully’s ice water loses its appeal. Ripped vinyl booths that Scully thoroughly wipes down with wet wipes she’d started keeping in her bag for that exact purpose.

“Well, don’t you two look nice?” a waitress in uniform says as she approaches their table. Her hair looks like the 80s have come back with a vengeance, all frizzy and permed, and she chews a wad of bubblegum aggressively, smelling like her last smoke break.

In short, it’s perfect.

“What’ll it be?” she asks.

Mulder orders for the both of them, knowing Scully’s usual order by heart. She smiles the way she always does when he remembers to ask for a lemon for her water, and he makes sure to tell the waitress to bring two straws for the milkshake instead of one.

When he looks across the booth at Scully, again, he imagines a little girl sitting next to her, coloring away on a kids menu with two, cheap, plasticky crayons that break in half if you look at them wrong.

It won’t be long, now. That will be their life. Mulder, party of three. Maybe Scully will start to carry a plastic baggy of the good crayons in her bag, for when they go to places like this. He’s absolutely certain she’ll at least double her use of wet wipes and sanitizer. He’ll become a chicken strip connoisseur, knowing all the best places in the city to get the child-favorite delicacy.

“To us,” Mulder toasts once their drinks arrive, lifting his chocolate milkshake in the air between them. “To… endings and new beginnings.”

“To endings and new beginnings,” Scully repeats, clinking her glass against his.

-.-.-

It’s past dark already, barely a hint of color lingering on the horizon, but that doesn’t stop them from prolonging the evening with a walk to the National Mall. The moon is bright, and the streets are lit up for tourists making the most of the warmer spring weather. It’s a pleasant walk. Scully feels drunk, despite the absence of alcohol with their dinner. She wonders if Mulder feels it too.

He guides her with his hand in its usual place, and she feels what can only be described as complete and utter contentment, as each brush of his fingers propels her gently forward. The street leads them straight to the reflecting pool on the National Mall, a favorite spot of theirs, not that they find the time to visit often enough. They’ve missed the cherry blossom blooms by only a couple weeks, but the sweet smell of them persists, unless it’s just her imagination.

Something about being with Mulder like this dials all her senses up to eleven. She has never experienced life like this before. Are the stars always so bright? Does the cool breeze always feel like silk on her skin?

Maybe it's his cologne that has her feeling tipsy. She selfishly hopes the scent of it will linger on her clothes and in her hair even after this night has come to its end.

The Mall is quiet and mostly empty at this hour. The Washington Monument looms in the distance, lit up brightly and casting its imposing reflection on the still waters of the reflecting pool. A family of ducks disturbs the glassy surface, sending ripples radiating outward as they paddle from one side to the other.

Mulder has this peaceful expression on his face, the corners of his mouth quirked upward ever so slightly. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he had never been here before, taking in all the sights for the first time. He watches the ducks for a moment, expelling a breath of laughter through his nose as a small duckling falls behind, then swims faster to catch up with the rest of the crew.

His hand drops from her back, but before she has a chance to mourn the loss, he entangles his fingers with hers, clasping their hands tightly together. She follows after him in a daze, her lips pulled back in a self-conscious sort of grin. She can’t help it. He makes her feel like a teenager, and… she doesn’t even know what this is, really, but she likes it. 

They circle the reflecting pool for a bit, wandering aimlessly at a lazy pace, reluctant to put an end to their time together. Eventually, they end up sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, the gargantuan statue of the nation’s sixteenth president a silent sentinel behind them.

Scully leans her cheek against Mulder’s bicep. Despite her best efforts to keep them open, her eyes fall shut, her body succumbing to the serenity of their surroundings and the comfort of good company. He offers her his coat, draping it over her shoulders to combat the slight chill. It dwarfs her, the extra fabric at the hem pooling on the ground behind her.

“How about we come here on the weekends?” his voice rumbles, the first words spoken since they left the diner almost half an hour ago.

“Mm?” she hums in question.

He jostles her slightly with his arm, and she forces her eyes open again.

“You know, take the stroller for a spin around the pool,” he says, gesturing ahead of them. “Maybe stop into the Air and Space museum if we feel like it…”

She smiles. She can picture it so easily, the two of them experiencing the wonders of this city through the eyes of their child as she grows. Of course Mulder would want to go to the Air and Space Museum. It’s a wonder he hasn’t dragged her there before.

“Every weekend?” she asks doubtfully, her words slurring slightly.

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side as he chuckles.

“No, not every weekend,” he says, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “I’m sure some weekends we’ll want to sleep in. Maybe have a late breakfast and watch movies. I can make pancakes. Chocolate chip.”

“Children need to have healthy breakfasts, Mulder,” she says admonishingly. Something tells her it will be a constant battle to keep Mulder from spoiling their daughter with sugar and empty carbs. But if that’s the worst of their disagreements when it comes to co-parenting, she’ll happily accept the challenge.

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Half blueberry, half chocolate chip,” he concedes. She decides to let it slide for now.

Above them, an airplane soars across the sky, lights blinking rhythmically as it passes overhead.

It’s funny. Before Mulder, she never looked twice at things like that. But now, she finds herself checking a second time, her gaze lingering a little longer, just in case it might be something other than an airplane.

What has this man done to her?

Mulder follows the direction of her stare, his chin tilting upward. Against the backdrop of stars, the perfectly normal, human-built aircraft flies out of sight. The hand on Scully’s shoulder drops to the ground, his palms resting against the stone steps as he reclines back a little.

“Thanks for hanging with me all these years, Scully,” he says softly, his eyes never wavering from the heavens. “I really couldn’t have done it without you.”

Her lips pull back in a smile. “We make a pretty good team, huh?” she says over her shoulder.

His lowers his gaze to meet hers. “I like to think so. You think that will translate to raising a kid?”

She has often wondered that exact thing, but for the life of her now, as she looks into his eyes, she can’t think of even one reason why she questioned it.

She leans back onto his shoulder, her eyes falling shut again.

“Only one way to find out,” she answers sleepily.

He sighs happily. “Any day now.”

-.-.-

What a day. What a night.

Mulder can’t sleep, lying stiffly on his back in bed with his hands clasped on top of his torso. All he can think about is how beautiful she looked in the blinding fluorescent light of the diner, with a bit of ketchup smeared on the corner of her mouth from when she stole one of his fries when she thought he wasn’t looking. How she held his hand, content just to walk in silence beside him in the shadow of some of the nation’s most revered monuments.

What a perfect way to put a cap on their time working on the X-Files together. He couldn’t have planned it better himself (clearly). Who needs expensive wine and stale classical music when you have bottomless milkshakes and a jukebox playing the greatest sock-hop hits of the 1950s?

It wasn’t a real date, he has to remind himself, but it sure was close to one. Usually a first date doesn’t end with both parties going home together, that’s one difference. Or, well, going home to the apartment that they both live in together, he should say. But tonight, as they returned home, they got ready for bed side-by-side at the sink, brushing their teeth and washing their faces, and it felt like they’d been doing this for years. There was no awkwardness there, just a wave of peace and stability he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel in his adult life.

If they ever move somewhere else—somewhere closer to Quantico, maybe—he’ll make sure the bathroom is equipped with a his-and-hers vanity. A sink for each of them, and plenty of counter space for all of Scully’s specialty serums and creams. It’ll be nice, he thinks.

When he finally falls asleep, it’s to visions of wraparound porches and matching rocking chairs, and maybe a nice playset in the backyard with a couple of kids running around. Now that’s a dream worth dreaming of.

-.-.-

This is ridiculous. She should just go back to bed, try one more time to actually fall asleep, get a few hours of rest at least. 

But she can’t sleep. Because Mulder had gone and put it in her head that everything is about to change, and it really could happen at any moment. Somehow, when she’s with him, she forgets every apprehension that plagues her, lured into a sense of security and assurance by some mystical power he possesses. Okay, maybe not a mystical power, but it is frightening how easily she casts aside her doubts when he’s within eyesight.

But then it all comes flooding back the moment she’s left to her own thoughts. It’s infuriating. She thought she was ready for it—for this massive life change—but she’s not. It terrifies her.

What if she can’t do it? What if she misses working in the Hoover building with him too much? What if she and Mulder have a disagreement about something trivial and it pulls them apart? What if he meets a nice woman at Quantico and wants out of this arrangement? What if it’s not enough for them to just be friends and raise this baby together? What if her feelings get the best of her, and she scares him away?

Or perhaps worst of all… What if they don’t get to go home with a baby at the end of all this? What if the mother decides to keep it? What then? Would they even have it in their hearts to try again? To wait a little longer, when there are drawers full of onesies and newborn diapers already in their home?

For weeks, the same nightmare has plagued her. Standing in a hospital hallway, their path blocked by people from the adoption agency telling them to turn around. Go home. You do not get a child.

She wakes feeling emptier than ever, and wishes for the millionth time that things could be easier.

There’s so much to think about, and she can’t take it anymore. She’s scared. And there’s only one person she likes to go to when she’s scared, and he’s sleeping peacefully right behind this door.

She sighs, leaning her head up against the door frame in exhaustion. She’ll just poke her head in for a moment. Remind herself that he’s there, and he’s not going anywhere. She repeats the words he’s said to her over and over in her head like a mantra, ways he’s reassured her in the past that he’s in this for the long-haul. But for some reason, they’re hard to recall in these moments of doubt. Maybe she’d misunderstood him. Maybe she’s remembering it wrong, applying more meaning to his words than he’d intended.

Her stomach tosses and turns uncomfortably with nerves. She’ll never be able to sleep like this.

As quietly as possible, she eases the door open, a sliver of light from the hallway piercing its way into his room. He looks warm and soft, the way his face lays slack against the pillow. He’s made himself at home here. His knick knacks line the shelves, unpacked from their boxes after the move and scattered about. As she steps carefully inside, she spots a photo of them that once sat on a shelf in their office. He must have moved it here recently, part of the slow transfer of their lives out of the basement of the Hoover building. She can’t help but notice that it sits beside him on his nightstand, right next to his glasses and whatever book he’s been reading lately.

She lets out a breath, allowing the comfort he unknowingly offers to dull her senses. Just a minute longer, then she’ll go back to her room and give sleeping another shot.

Or she would have, if he hadn’t started to stir, slowly waking from his peaceful slumber. It’s almost like he’d sensed her there, some kind of psychological link that told him when she was near, and in distress. She quickly turns back to the door, hand on the door handle to open it and make her exit before he truly notices her presence, when she hears her name spoken in a confused whisper.

“Scully?”

Her shoulders slump in defeat, and her hand falls away from the doorknob.

“Sorry,” she says, turning to face him sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He props himself up on an elbow, blearily rubbing sleep from his eyes with a fist.

“You okay?” he asks.

Her mouth drops open to reassure him that, yes, she’s fine, but she takes just a second too long to answer, and she knows he sees right through her. It’s not even worth lying to him.

“Come here,” he says, scooting over to make room on the bed beside him. “We can talk, if you want.”

She really shouldn’t, but his offer is tantalizing. She’s too vulnerable to be in this position, right now. Who knows what will slip from her mouth in her exhausted and overwhelmed state? Her feet carry her toward the bed anyway, and she slides into place under the covers, staring blankly up at the ceiling as he settles on his side facing her on his side of the bed.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks knowingly.

She shakes her head, her hair rustling on the pillow.

“Took me a while to get to sleep too,” he admits. “A lot to think about. A lot, a lot.”

At least she’s not alone in this problem, she guesses. She hates feeling like the insecure one in any situation, and that’s how she’s felt more often than not throughout this process so far.

“What’s keeping you up?” he asks, gently urging her to open up.

She tries to shrug, but she knows she’ll have to come up with an answer sooner or later. There’s no reason to hide this from him. Sometimes, he knows her better than she knows herself, and that can be a blessing and a curse.

“I’m going to miss working with you, Mulder,” she says honestly, her lips sealed tight to fight back the slight tremble in them. She can’t stop hearing her own words spoken by the reflecting pool a few years ago. ‘If I quit now, they win.’

She feels a hand land on her upper arm, stroking it comfortingly. Her eyes flutter shut. She can lie to herself all she wants, but this is why she really came in here. There’s a type of comfort only Mulder has ever been able to bestow, and she needs it now more than ever.

“We’ll still be in the same building,” he says appeasingly. “We can get lunch together every day, talk about our classes, complain about the new recruits.”

It’s silly, but his words do help. She imagines sitting across from him in his own private office—probably decorated a lot like their current office is—and munching on a salad while listening to him complain about an essay one of his students turned in. It sounds pleasant. Easy. Maybe he can come help decorate her office too. She’s gotten used to his clutter. She isn’t sure she’d be able to work in the sparsely furnished office space like she’s naturally inclined to.

“And besides– We’ll still see each other here,” he adds. “Every night. And the weekends.”

The thought sends a thrill through her. Sometimes it still feels like a dream, what they’re doing. Giving up the X-Files… that’s a tangible thing. But the baby? She’s still an abstract idea, despite the fact that physical reminders of their plans are scattered throughout her apartment. The picture he’d painted earlier of a relaxing day at home together feels out of reach—like a nice idea that isn’t really attainable. Is she that traumatized from all the disappointment in her life?

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asks, her mouth downturned in a frown. “I mean– I know you’ve said before that this is what you want, but I—”

“You’re gonna have to learn to trust me sometime, Scully,” Mulder says, a slight sadness in his voice.

She does. She does trust him—maybe even more than she trusts herself. That’s what the problem is.

“I do,” she says. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just…”

“Freaking out?” he finishes, smiling at her in amusement.

“Just a little,” she says, returning his smile.

He breathes in deeply, his face pensive like it always is when he's mulling over a difficult question.

“I think we’re ready,” he says, projecting confidence into his voice. “I think you’re going to be a rockstar mom, and we’ll wonder why we didn’t do this years ago.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

“But what if—”

He shakes his head, putting a stop to her words immediately. “You gotta stop that, Scully,” he says seriously. “This is going to work out.” His fingers find the dainty necklace she wears, his thumb brushing over the cross. “Have faith,” he implores.

She closes her eyes, letting out a breath, and with it, trying to release some of the fear that keeps her up at night. She wants to do what he asks, to let herself go, but it's not as easy as that. Sometimes she can't help but feel like they're trying to cheat destiny, to force things into going their way when they've been repeatedly told “no” at every turn.

His reassurance does help, though. Wasn't that why she'd come here in the first place? 

Mulder settles back, turning his attention back to the ceiling. 

“What did you think of the new agents?” she asks after a moment, changing the subject. It’s hard to believe that it was just this morning that they’d interviewed a few of them, hoping to find some trustworthy hands to leave their work to.

“Reyes seems sharp,” Mulder says. “I think her background in folklore and ritualistic abuse is a good starting point.”

“Mm,” Scully hums her agreement. “And what about Doggett? Too staunch of a skeptic for you?”

Mulder chuckles. “He comes highly recommended by the higher ups, so I don’t know,” he says. “It’s always good to have a variety of opinions around, though, don’t you think?”

She turns her head to the left, her eyes meeting his in the darkened room, lit only by what little moonlight comes through the blinds. 

“I think… we’ll be okay,” she says then, willing the words to be true as she speaks them. Her assertion brings a smile to his face, and he leans back on the pillow, focusing on the patterns on the ceiling like she had been a moment earlier.

“We will,” he agrees. “For once, I think we’ll be better than okay.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 16

Not gonna lie. I was hoping they'd eat fishmen this chapter.

I don't know why, but something about those bladefish makes me think there's some elaborate pun that I just don't get. I know their design is based on flying fish but they have blade-sharp edges, but I feel like there's supposed to be something more to it.

The blade is most likely made of keratin and is actually a layer of highly specialized scales.

Where'd the dramatic wind and waves come from? Is that just because of her trying to cast magic?

As this series progresses, Marcille's incantations are less detailed. I can tell some of the characters she's using match some characters in the spell Falin cast in chapter 11, so they use the same school of magic (Makes sense since they attended the same magic academy) but have different specialties.

The reason the runes are simpler is probably because the author decided drawing the intricate rune designs is too much hassle, but I'm going to say Marcille is either getting into the habit of mumbling her spells so nothing notices her casting, or her brain is still a bit scrambled because of the mandrake incident.

Realistic outcome: Causing fish with sharp edges to come falling from the sky can result in people getting cut.

I wonder what that big shadow at the top of the food pyramid is.

Love this little detail. The fishmen don't eat the bladefish's fins. Even if they can safely bite into and eat it, there's probably no meat in the fins.

Another detail I love: The kraken has serrated suction cups like real-world giant squid.

I'm gonna guess that water feels slimy or oily when you're under the effects of waterwalk. Fun fact, we can't actually detect wetness. What we call "wet" is actually a mix of tactile and temperature feedback from our touch receptors that our brain associates with "wetness". It's the reason why reptiles sometimes feel slimy. Their skin just happens to be similar enough in feel and temperature difference to what our brain registers as wet.

Never noticed it before, but the party have to throw off their backpacks when they get in a fight.

Laios said this kraken is several times bigger than normal. They are facing a GIANT giant squid. Is that a mutation or do krakens have no upper limit to how big they can get? I'd imagine if it's the latter, this could be a self-fixing ecosystem problem because the kraken would eventually starve to death because its metabolism would become unsustainable.

Kui definitely did a bunch of research on squids going into this chapter. Look at that jet propulsion form.

Since the kraken is so big, it probably gets pieces of the fishmen it eats stuck in its suction cups all the time. It's like getting something between your teeth.

YES!! This is the kind of stuff I wanted to see them do with Waterwalk.

And this confirms that the spell can raise a sunken object.

And one more amazing detail on the kraken. When it dies, the chromatophores in its body stop working and it loses its color, just like real-life cephalopods.

Laios didn't seem to get grabbed before they killed the kraken so I think he was investigating the tentacles and got stuck.

And after all that, they're not even going to eat any of the kraken. They're going to eat the parasites in it.

This is the biggest tantrum Marcille has made since chapter 1.

But she's still drooling for the food through it all.

Everyone's always been willing to let Laios suffer whenever he gets in trouble by his own actions. Senshi is probably a bit sympathetic, but Marcille and Chilchuck came along to save Falin and have been annoyed since day one that Laios is using the journey and their lack of funds as an excuse to indulge in his monster culinary interest. Granted, compared with that other party, they're only doing so well because they don't have to worry about logistics and supplies as much. But Laios keeps causing trouble because he's willing to engage with some dumb antics.

I love how Marcille can apply magic effects by just hitting people with her staff. I bet it's cathartic at times.

SENSHI FLASH!!

back

[alinartistique]

Progress Report April 2025

Pfff~ April went by pretty fast. Aaaand go:

My webcomic, Twisted Play:

Chapter 2. 1 part 2 is, yes, still in the works. Still working on the line art. In between preparing said line art I changed up a few things about the initial sketch for it and actually ended up putting a few more panels in between. As of right now, I'm about 50% finished with the lineart.

I was hoping to get more done till May, but seeing all of the plans my job and private life has ready for me in May...it'll likely be June or, god forbid, July till I finish the line art. Rather giving a cautious prognosis instead of assuring it'll absolutely be finished in May. It's not impossible, but unlikely to happen. *ugly crying*

Did some more smaller dialogue changes to chapter 2.1. part 2. Nothing big.

Also this time, heres a few of the line art panels for part 2. (They're all color-coded, since that's my usual way of dividing the layers. Obv the final line art will be black.):

Drawing Kaname in a baby swing was equal parts fun and challenging.

Artworks I made: Warning! Blood/gore/disturbing imagery...yeah yeah you know:

I've created two stand-alone illustrations again: "Speak now, think later" ft. Kaname and "Vivisection" ft. Chouwa and (mainly) Chiron:

"Speak now, think later" also has a spontaneous animated version. You're welcome. :)

Finished animations:

Other than the animated version of "Speak now, think later". Nothing has been finished. *cries*

Animation WIPs:

SOOOOOO...:

The "Turn in the dark"/"Tourner dans le vide" animation ft. Chiron is coming along nicely. I've been working on it quite a bit in between and now reached the halfway point.

I- uh, also did 2 sketch versions of 2 more animations I wanna work on some time. It's unclear when that happens and ofc I want to finish the Chiron animation first. So these 2 will sit there and wait a while. And as for YOU: have an excerpt of one of these sketch versions. Thought I could spice things up a bit by showing some behind-the-scenes stuff. In this case...my messy af sketch versions that I make to get future me to remember what I'm even trying to do. Keep in mind: it's not the full sketch version, just a part of it. It's also subject to change, depending on me and my silly ideas showing up unpredictably. Plus, the text you occasionally get to see in these? Don't bother trying to read those. I'll need to believe you're some kind of alien if you can faultlessly decipher my messy notes in full.

1) "Panic animation": Something of a prequel to the "Turn in the dark" animation currently in progress ft. mainly (younger) Chiron and his connection to the ARCC, as well as Chouwa freeing him from the server system of the ARCC he's been locked up in before she got there. Here's the sketch version excerpt I promised:

2) "Miss me?" animation: Randomly sat there listening to music and actually came across a song that doesn't just fit Kaname but also Chiron. That's not easy for me to find. They're different in many ways. This animation actually references an upcoming scene that'll (likely, depending on upcoming re-writes) happen somewhere in chapter 3. Short version of it all is that Kaname isn't very happy to meet her dear twin brother who she hasn't seen for over a decade. Wonder why... (would've posted the sketch video here too but apparently only one is allowed per post, so perhaps showing you this one next month.)

Every other animation WIP hasn't been touched on this month.

Miscellaneous:

Easter art of Chiron and Kaname as bunnies drinking water in their own ways. There's...honestly not much else to say about this one other than it was a cute little side piece to work on.

And that's it now for April.

Remember to check my instagram if you want more frequent updates. If not, see ya in the next progress report in May~

May will be pretty hectic. Job stuff with some bigger appointments planned, I'll be going on a small trip with my mum near the lower half of May. I didn't have a vacation in over 6 years pffffffffff- "just" 3 days but definitely something I'm looking forward to.

What I wanna say is: the May progress report may be pretty short compared to the ones I did up until now. Keyword being "may". Knowing me, I'll likely still find a way to keep up with my art even if I'm exhausted to hell and back. Cuz obviously, working on my art helps me unwind.

Buh Byeeeee-

[badgalsasuke]

pro Sasuke stans having a weird vendetta against naruto isn't just among the anti sns but even among those who claim to love the ship and even made their entire socmed content around them. claiming to love sns & naruto but reblogging posts from pro Sasuke/pro uchiha anti naruto accounts where most of the time, the content of the post also subtly bash naruto. i can take the criticism about the lack of justice for the Uchiha massacre but there are also ridiculous arguments and takes from that side that always felt weird and unfairly biased to me. saying that 8 year old naruto is actually a bully to sasuke, lowkey implying he's selfish by saying that his talk no jutsu is more about himself rather than the other person, having this weird unnecessary hostile words for him being a useless hokage in boruto but that level of vitriol words are never used irt to their fave who's character is also facing a disservice in boruto? these type of stans also like to ignore kishi's canon writing and favor their own preference of arc, yet force the narrative to go how they want. i wish they just shipped ss or something so they can project their own narrative onto the blank canvas that is sakura's character instead of writing about naruto yet subtly bashing him cause they dislike the nature of his character.

it's like what you said. they're able to extend grace, understanding, and compassion to their fave character but if someone outside of their fave doesn't behave like a perfect victim then they didn't hold back the judgement and the nitpicking.

Hello anon!

Yeah, what bothers me the most is that rather than having general criticisms of the series they're always nitpicking Naruto specifically.

having this weird unnecessary hostile words for him being a useless hokage in boruto but that level of vitriol words are never used irt to their fave who's character is also facing a disservice in boruto? these type of stans also like to ignore kishi's canon writing and favor their own preference of arc, yet force the narrative to go how they want.

This is the thing. One of the things I wanted to express in my thoughts about the ending post, is how Sasuke stans are always missing this particular piece of the puzzle because they are to focused on what Naruto does or doesn't do that they miss the bigger picture. Like you said they want to force their own narrative before they even check if Kishimoto had a narrative of his own, which he did.

This is why for me this pervasive idea that Kishimoto is an idiot that doesn't know what he's doing and can't write is so harmful for people's understanding of the series. You NEVER consider Kishimoto's intentionality in his writing because you already assume he doesn't have any, he's just a silly guy drawing silly things, so you never see the themes present in his manga and instead start projecting your own fantasies onto the series and the characters and when Kishimoto does something different than what you expected you instantly assume it's because he's a bad writer rather than wondering if there was something you might have missed in the prior chapters.

This is the problem with most of the Naruto fandom, they don't know that whenever you read something you need to consider what's the author trying to say before you decide what's the story about.

[exquisiteserotonin]

WIP Wednesday (sort of)

I missed this Wednesday mark in my timezone by a couple of hours. And luckily I actually have some WIPs that I have actual evidence of. Thanks @magpiepills @arcanefox207 @youandmeand5bucks for the NPT.

Before I get the jump, I did want to thank all my new visitors and those who have reblogged or liked my Eddie and/or Geta fics. I decided I’ll be continuing ny Geta fic, The Senator’s Daughter. I really love writing him bc I can make him extra nasty.

Also, as an FYI my asks are still open! 💜

NPT for @for-a-longlongtime

For those who have stuck with me here is a little snippet from the latest Precious Possessions chapter. I promise I will finish this, it’s a mission!

Dave leaned over the kitchen counter. You watched as his eyes darted back and forth at your work. His hands traced over the papers until they settled on the small notepad where you had scribbled Miles Whitaker’s name. Dave took it in between his index and middle finger. He waved it in your face

“How much do you know?” He asked with a low rasp of his voice.

You didn’t answer immediately and he stepped forward, his face inches from yours.

“Answer me.”

“He knows McCall, lives in the same neighborhood,” you replied, observing how he attempted to appear menacing.

He straightened his posture to make sure you knew how much bigger be was than you. You thought by now he knew that there wasn’t much he could do to you to make you feel afraid. Defiantly, you stepped up to him and felt your jaw tighten as you contemplated the words you were about to say to Dave.

“He’s just a kid, Dave,” you said.

“So are Alice and Molly,” he responded, his voice lowering.

“Dave, how far is too far?” You asked him, placing a hand to his chest sliding up to cup his face firmly with your hands.

“If the kid draws him out, the kid draws him out,” Dave said with a small shrug. “When we have McCall, this will all be over and things will be back to normal.”

“Normal?” You said, feeling a helpless sigh escape from your lips. “Dave---”

His lips crashed onto yours before another word could leave you. Somehow he felt stronger than ever as he hoisted you up, coaxing you to wrap your legs around him. You felt weightless as carried you to your bedroom and as he tossed you onto your bed like a ragdoll. Your thoughts swirled around your head, mirroring the way the storm clouds swirled outside. Your heart beat all the way up to your ears as he ripped your pants and underwear off your body like they were the flimsiest pieces of paper.

[mysteroads]

Chapter 14: What's in a Name?

Summary: Hawks overhears a conversation and asks a very important question. Later, Shigaraki gets good advice from Kurogiri.

Excerpt:

“What the fuck do you want, Shig?” Dabi snapped the second the door closed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering letting the heroes near our kids, are you? Is that what you want to talk about?”

Rather than answering, Shigaraki said, “You need to tell Keigo your name.”

The silence that fell was anything but empty. Even on the roof, Hawks could feel the tension, like watching a storm build on the horizon. This was not where he'd expected this conversation between lover and boss to go. Hawks felt his eavesdropping feather heat up as Dabi’s temperature rose, right before the flame villain snarled, “Go to Hell, Shigaraki! Where the fuck did that come from?”

Shigaraki snorted and there was the creaking of a bed as he sat down. “He won’t understand until he knows. You said he was the one, that you love him, so why haven’t you told him, Dabi?”

“It’s none of your business!”

“Wrong.” There was an icy edge of warning in the word. “I’m your leader and your friend, so it is exactly my business. If you want Keigo to understand you, to take your side, then you have to tell him the truth.”

“That so?” Hawks didn’t know what to do with the emotions in Dabi’s voice.  It was the snarl of a cornered animal, a red rage mixed with bubbles of desperation and spite. “Have you told Eraserhead about Tenko? Do you think he’ll still want to fuck you after he hears how you turned your family to bloody chunks, then murdered your old man? You think he’ll get turned on hearing about how much you enjoyed it? Maybe you should do that before telling me what to do with my own boyfriend.”

Shigaraki inhaled sharply, then let out his breath just as quick and sharp. “Don’t turn this on me, Dabi. It won’t work. If only because Sensei already spoiled that little twist to All Might! Eraserhead probably knows more than me. I only remember bits and pieces; he probably read the fuckin’ police reports. If I tell him, it'll be to fill in what I'm missing.” 

Dabi growled, his clothes rustling as he turned, pacing to the window. There was the crackle of plastic being broken, then the sound of a cigarette being pulled from its pack. 

“Don’t light that shit in here.”

“Try and stop–” A grunt of impact and the sound of a body hitting the wall interrupted his taunt. Another few thuds, and Hawks tensed as he heard Dabi’s smothered sound of pain. 

“You're being an asshole. A bigger asshole than usual, and that’s coming from me,” Shigaraki said coldly. “Why haven’t you told him?”

“You’re going to break my fucking arm!”

“It’s on you to either stop fighting or burn me if you don’t want a broken arm. Now, why haven’t you told him about Toya?”

Toya?

Toya?

Toya.

The sky, already deepening toward twilight, turned black and dripped down into Keigo’s mind. The darkness constricted around him, tunneling his vision and making his lungs burn as he struggled to draw in breath. Why had Shigaraki said that name? What does Dabi know about Toya? What hasn't he told me?!

Desperately, he fumbled, trying to get down to the window. He had to know! Over the sound of his own pounding heart, he heard the other two men still talking.

“You love him. Why haven’t you told him?”

“Because I want him to love me! Not Toya!” 

[mandatory-blog-stop-asking]

I'll miss Akira Toriyama.

It is suddenly very important to me that you understand how good Dragon Ball actually is.

Because I get it, not everyone lived under the Equator and not everyone cares about battle shonen, but you have to understand that at some point, someone whose art you love probably loved Dragon Ball.

Akira Toriyama managed to influence more than just his medium. He influenced action media worldwide, every week. Almost every comics artist, writer, producer or otherwise industry person, in any country, owns some of their income to Toriyama.

From Jorge Jimenez drawing on the Father-Son Kamehameha for his beautiful tribute to Superman's family during his time drawing Justice League, to Rebecca Sugar making dance explicitly matter to fusion, to fucking Cloud in Final Fantasy 7 just doing his best SSJ2 Gohan cosplay throughout the whole game, anyone creative who liked action cared about Dragon Ball, with 2 degrees of separation being the maximum you could go before your specific 90s-early aughts references reached back to it as well.

And the memes and fame the thing accrued over the years don't quite make that make sense, because if you've never seen it, it just looks and sounds like a run-of-the-mill bad shonen show where people scream all the time and don't really grow as characters. But that's not what that series actually is. The anime is what got popular, sure, but as a manga, Dragon Ball is one of the most well-executed, funniest, fast-paced pieces of literature Shonem Jump has published, and it's crazy to think how much of it is just Toriyama improvising.

It's not perfect, obviously -- it's rote and it's old and it's repetitive, but it never stops being a good, read. It never stops being interesting, or well-designed, or fun. You'll open a chapter and something about it will make you smile, or make you laugh, or just keep you entertained enough that you have to read the next one. The fact this man made all of this weekly, without a grander plan than "I want to draw a martial arts comedy" and then codified the way we think about transformations, power struggles, action paneling in general-- there's quite literally no one else with that kind of range on their contributions to modern pop comics. We start talking Tezuko or Oda when we start talking about who's had as much an impact on the genre, and then you find out of course Oda is a Dragon Ball kid, and Kishimoto is a Dragon Ball kid, everyone whose manga you love after the 90s is a Dragon Ball kid.

And look, it's not like you have to love Dragon Ball or anything: it's art and like any art it won't connect to certain people, and it will be poison to others. You not being into Dragon Ball is fine and it's valid, and it's definitely not the first work of that nature to have a worldwide impact. Akira didn't invent manga, he just made a really good one.

But, fuck, the world is a less interesting place without Akira Toriyama in it. He brought out something so many people identified with nearly effortlessly. The guy just wanted to make us laugh and have fun; all the yelling and violence and world-ending threats came later. I need you to keep that somewhere in your head when the subject is Dragon Ball. It's fun first.

Everyone, at some point, got together and loved and lived a series that was about hard work paying off, and had a blast with it. But more than that, everyone loved a really funny, fun-loving series that could always put a smile in your face first and foremost, no matter what the villain of the arc did to Earth or the heroes. And that changed the world more than any of the thousands of edgy manga about fights always getting bigger and the protagonist always getting stronger did. Because Dragon Ball isn't just that. It is that in some level, of course, but more importantly, it's a kid stepping on poo and screaming about how gross that is. It's Majin Buu hanging out with Mr. Satan and a puppy because he loves having friends. It's a Super Saiyan bargain sale, it's Bulma shooting Goku startled, it's Kuririn not having a nose and being able to beat some dude who smells. And that's fucking hilarious.

Teach that dinosaur how to ride a ball, Toriyama. You earned it.