#they would find a human skeleton an think oh what a weird structure. was this [skull] perhaps built in a reverent worship of some god

[cosmignon]

Pikmin headcanon: If any of the captains or castaways or rescue corps ect ect ext ever came across a human they would not immediately register that this is a person or even a beast.

They'll record in their logs like "Discovered a mysterious landmark that moves across the planes of this land like nothing I've seen before. I thought perhaps it was some form of alien transportation, but there were no riders within it, or even other creatures, when I scanned it on my radar. It has since vanished without a trace."

and it was like a normal man walking through a hiking trail.

They are not exactly incomprehensible but they are not being percieved as a people and no one's making the connections to start exploring that thought bc what kind of horrible beast could ever be THAT big. Not possible! Unbelievable! your scientific credibility is shoddy at best.

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink

Day 1: Language of Lust (Voice Kink)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: The first thing art of my third Kinktober challenge, let’s go besties!

Tags: voice kink, language kink, oral, scratching, gratuitous German, aftercare

Word Count: 4.3k

The Masterlist

You tried to understand Medic, you truly did. He talked about his experiments at length, and anyone could see how passionate he was about them. Still, he often forgot that not everyone understood the medical jargon that he did, and you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt him. The last thing you were able to understand was something about the superiority of the mega baboon heart when compared to the average human’s. It was all downhill from there, but as long as he kept talking, you would keep listening, nodding along. The truth was you loved to hear Medic talk, and the reasons weren’t entirely innocent.

“Now this part gets a bit complicated, are you paying attention?” Medic asked, gesturing towards a rough diagram he had scribbled on the back of some paperwork. As far as you could tell, it seemed to be detailing how one would successfully prevent the human body from rejecting animal organs, specifically the uterus, for some reason. Usually you wouldn’t question it, but you felt it would be wrong to let him keep going on if you truly didn’t understand. Plus, it might mean you get to hear him talk for longer.

“Oh yes! Of course I am,” you said. “But just in case, could you run it by me one more time?”

Medic sighed, smiling fondly at you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “I am starting to think you just enjoy hearing me ramble, mein schatz.”

You hoped he wouldn’t notice the soft blush that colored your cheeks. He had no idea how well he had just read you. “Maybe I do,” you said, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible.

“Well, I appreciate that. Not many are willing to listen to me go on like this. However, you don’t have to pretend to understand for my sake.” You noticed a hint of sadness in that statement. You knew how it felt to enjoy something, especially something weird, and have no one to share your interests with.

“I don’t have to understand to see how passionate you are about it, and I like it when you get worked up.” You paused for a moment before realizing how that sounded. “When you’re excited, I mean. Excited about your work.”

Medic chuckled. “Is that so? I have always wondered what you enjoyed out of these conversations we share.” He got a bit closer to you, looking you up and down like an intriguing specimen. “And while I do believe you like seeing me happy, I don’t think that’s the only reason.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, perhaps a bit too quickly. You kicked your legs nervously, hearing the metal operation table you were sitting on creak slightly as you did.

“Let’s see,” Medic said, leaning in, studying you. Suddenly, he started touching you. It was entirely innocent, nothing that wouldn’t be done during a normal physical, even if it did leave goosebumps all over your skin. You started giggling uncontrollably when his fingers lingered on areas that he knew were ticklish. All the while he made mock ‘observations’ about you. “A slight flush, perspiration on the brow… excellent bone structure!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, growing more confused by the second. “What the hell does my bone structure have to do with anything?”

“Nothing,” Medic said. “But based on how much redder your face just became, I would say you like it when I compliment your appearance.”

You stared at Medic, finding yourself at a loss for words. He held your gaze, and you looked away first with an awkward laugh, feeling like he was staring right into your soul. Was this really happening? Was this Medic’s way of flirting?

Placing a hand on your cheek, you found that it was indeed warm. You also probably should have been unnerved by Medic’s comment, given his track record with skeletons. In fact, he had once detailed how he planned to one-up that particular achievement with something he lovingly referred to as ‘the circulatory system heist.’ Honestly, he probably wouldn’t be satisfied until he managed to steal every major organ system in the human body at least once, preferably leaving his victim alive in the process.

Finally, you responded. “It’s not just the compliments. Truthfully, I just like hearing you talk. You have a hot voice.” A moment of silence was all it took for you to realize what you had just admitted. Shit. You had gotten too comfortable. You had said too much, and of course, your immediate response was to stammer your way through a desperate, panicked stream of consciousness. “I mean nice! You have a nice voice, in a normal way. It’s, uh- unique, with the accent, you know? Yeah, that’s it. You would make a good narrator.”

Real smooth. Perfectly executed. He wouldn’t suspect a thing.

He had, in fact, suspected many things. An expression flashed across Medic’s face. First came realization, and then surprise. You weren’t sure whether you should be proud of the fact that you actually managed to surprise Medic, of all people.

“You like my accent?” He spoke with a certainty that implied he already knew the answer. You wished you could blame it on Medic being observant, but the fact was you had basically outed your massive crush on the team doctor in a moment of weakness. The only thing to do now was own up.

“Maybe,” you said, just above a whisper. You’re face was so red, and you felt hot from the blood rushing to your face. “I do have a bit of a thing for it.”

It was definitely more than just ‘a bit of a thing.’

“I am surprised. Usually when it comes to accents people go for the French, or the other romance languages,” Medic said, looking you over like you were a subject to be psychoanalyzed. It made you feel so small, even though you had the freedom to leave whenever you wanted. Not that you would. You liked where this conversation seemed to be going, even if you were embarrassed by how it was initiated.

“I guess I just have unique tastes.” There wasn’t much more of an explanation for you to give. You weren’t quite sure when you developed a thing for accents, let alone Medic’s in particular, but the human brain worked in mysterious ways. While you satiated yourself with the occasional foreign nickname he had given you, there was a part of you that occupied lonely nights with thoughts of how it might sound if he were to moan against your ear, whispering sweet nothings in a language you barely understood.

“I hope that this isn’t the only reason you come to visit me,” Medic said. “I actually thought you enjoyed hearing me ramble about exotic animal parts and Medigun technology, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking, ja?”

“Of course not,” you quickly reassured him. “I guess you could say I came for the accent and stayed for the sordid tales of grand theft skeleton.”

That at least got a laugh out of him. “Well then, I suppose I can’t be too hurt, liebchen.”

Damn it. Your blush had just begun to calm down, too. “That’s not fair!”

“Why not? You didn’t seem to have a problem with my little pet names before. In fact, I think you liked them very much.” His eyes narrowed, zeroing in on you in a way that reminded you of a wolf tracking its kill.

“It’s different now that you know,” you stammered, struggling to keep your composure as you held his gaze.

“How so, schatz?”

You huffed. Now he was just doing it on purpose. You weren’t going to humor him with an answer if he was just going to keep teasing you- until you felt a breath against your ear. “I asked you a question, mein engelchen. I expect an answer.”

“Oh fuck,” you whispered. You hadn’t even realized how close Medic was getting. Now his arms were on either side of you, gripping the edges of the operation table. He probably noticed the way your body stiffened and the way you squeezed your thighs together. Even so, a part of you worried you were being too presumptuous. Was this really going where you thought it was going? “Medic, what are you doing?”

“I thought that would have been obvious,” he said, chuckling softly. “I’m giving you what you want, if you’ll let me.”

“Seriously?” you asked, trying not to be too embarrassed at how the word came out as more of a shocked squeal.

“Only if you want to.” Medic backed away to look you up and down. He still wore a knowing smirk, but there was a hint of sincerity behind it that let you know that if you wanted this to stop, it would stop. You didn’t want that though. You had dreamt of a moment like this, and here it was, being offered on a silver platter, or rather, a silver operating table.

Before you could think, almost as if on instinct, you leaned forward and kissed him. You felt him startle, jolting against you slightly before he melted into the sinfully short kiss. You looked up at him with glassy eyes when you parted. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Looking up at him like that, you were irresistible. Medic leaned down, kissing you hard. He was much rougher, biting at your lower lip until he could slip his tongue into your mouth. Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him against you. He moaned into your mouth as you grounded against him, cursing the layers of fabric that remained between the two of you.

“Medic, please,” you gasped when you parted for a breath.

“How about you beg for me in my native tongue?” Medic said. “After all, I know how much you love it.”

“I don’t know how,” you whined, not even caring that you sounded utterly pathetic. Your voice was already quivering and besides a heated makeout, nothing had really happened yet.

Medic’s gaze softened. You were adorable when you were frustrated. “I’ll teach you, liebe. You know how to say please, don’t you?”

“Bitte.” You responded with some confidence, having heard Medic say it before, usually when asking for assistance on the battlefield.

“Very good. Now, repeat after me, ‘Bitte, lass mich deinen Schwanz lutschen.’” He spoke slowly, and you repeated the words at the same pace, occasionally struggling around the pronunciation that felt foreign on your tongue.

Medic smiled, and you took that as a sign that you did well. “What does it mean?”

That smile twisted into a smirk. “It means, ‘please, let me suck your cock.’”

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and you knew you had just turned a much deeper shade of red. Perhaps it was a bit naive of you to think that what you had just said would be anything other than lewd. “Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Can I?”

“Certainly!” Medic’s swirk widened, his teeth glinting in the harsh light of the infirmary. His eyes tracked your every move as you dismounted the table, pacing around him until he was leaning back on the steel surface and you were knelt down in front of him. His ever present gaze made you shiver. Reaching for his belt, you paused at the buckle, glancing up at him nervously. “Go on, liebling.”

You nodded, wasting little time unfastening the belt and unzipping his fly. With some finessing, you eventually freed his cock, working him up with your hand. The way he groaned at your touch made you squirm, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to quell your arousal. You were quite proud to find that he was already half hard.

It wasn’t long before you could get to work with your mouth. You licked your lips until they were reddened and wet. The noise he made when you simply dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock was maddening. You had fantasized about what it might be like to hear him moan, to watch him come undone with your touch, but nothing could compare to the real thing. You needed to hear more.

Little did you know, Medic had thought about this before as well. He had wondered how you would look on your knees, lips parted and ready to take anything he gave you. You took it so well, too. Your mouth was tight around his shaft, and you did such delightful things with your tongue that made him grip the edge of the table and pulled shaky groans from his lips. “That’s it, keep going, liebchen. Du machst das so gut, you’re so good!”

You shuddered, a low moan escaping you. Although it was muffled, Medic immediately took notice. Your muscles were taut, and you seemed to double your efforts, bobbing your head faster and working your tongue against him. Something he said had certainly motivated you. ‘A praise kink,’ Medic thought to himself. ‘This will be fun.’

“Do you like it when I call you good?” You would have nodded if you weren’t otherwise occupied. In fact, you were so wrapped up in your current task that you barely heard him. He didn’t seem to need any further confirmation though. Medic weaved his fingers into your hair until he had a tight grip close to your scalp. “Let’s see just how good you can be for me then. I want to feel your throat tighten around me.”

He pushed you further down onto his cock. Every move was gentle and gradual. Medic paid attention to your reactions, pausing whenever he felt you gag, letting you adjust until eventually you managed to take him as deep as he hoped for. You were held there, breathing slowly through your nose as you felt his cock press into your throat. Your tongue continued to massage the underside of his cock.

“Sheiße,” Medic cursed softly. His grip on your hair loosened, and you took the opportunity to start bobbing your head again. Only now, you could take him to the hilt on your own accord. Instantly he was gripping the edge of the operating table in a white knuckled grasp. “Oh gott, liebling! That’s so good!” He was panting, and you loved it. Every sound that came out of him was breathy and high pitched, almost sounding more akin to whimpers than moans. “You’re doing so well, meine gutes mädchen, my good girl!”

Of course the praise wasn’t about to let up. You moaned around his cock, doubling your efforts. You were a good girl, you were his good girl, and you wanted to prove it with every fiber of your being. For a moment, you thought you could be content to simply bring him to completion right there, your own pleasure be damned, but it seemed like Medic had other plans. You felt a harsh tug on your hair, pulling you off of his cock. You gasped, the sound quickly turning into a whine.

“Sorry, liebchen, but with the way you were moaning…” He paused for a breath. Medic’s expression was pained, as if he didn’t want to make you stop, but forced himself to. “I was getting much too close, and I still want a chance to fuck you properly.”

You immediately jumped at that, almost literally, as you hoisted yourself back up onto the table with surprising speed. The metal had gone cold, cold enough that you felt it through your clothing, causing you to shiver. Speaking of clothing, you were still wearing far too much of it. At least that’s what Medic seemed to think. He quickly stripped you of your pants and underwear, only allowing your top to remain, to ward off the chill of the metal.

Medic took in the sight of you slowly, relishing every detail. Your legs were spread wide and inviting. Oh, you were positively soaked. He ran a finger over your sex and it came back wet and shining. The gesture left you shuddering. It seemed you were sensitive to even the smallest touch. This was going to be fun.

“Please, please fuck me!” you whined.

“You can’t withstand a little teasing, liebchen?” Medic laughed, letting his hands caress your inner thighs, so tantalizingly close to where you wanted to be touched, but just out of reach. “Don’t worry, you’ll have what you want, but first, beg for me properly.”

“Bitte!” you cried, recalling your earlier lessons. “Bitte, Medic!”

“You remembered! Very good.” He dragged you forward to the edge of the table, sliding his cock against you, past your entrance and up to your clit. So close, so agonizingly close. “Now let’s add some new vocabulary. Say, ‘bitte, fick mich.’”

“Bitte! Fick mich!” You didn’t hesitate like before. There was no need to speak slowly and sound out words. Desperation apparently did wonders for your pronunciation.

“Perfekt.”

Medic’s cock was coated in your arousal, twitching against you. He was just as needy as you were, he was just better at hiding it, but there was no need to resist anymore. In one quick thrust, Medic lets you feel every inch of him. The noise you made was animalistic. You clung onto his arm, pulling at the sleeves of the white coat that he still wore. You didn’t even mind- the uniform was starting to become part of the appeal.

He groaned, thrusting slowly, savoring the feeling of your warmth around him. You watched, enraptured by the way he buried himself within you. “So good,” he muttered. You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. “Is it good for you too, meine liebe?”

Medic stroked your cheek gently, his gaze softening. “It feels good. Fuck, Medic! Please fuck me harder!” you gasped, bucking your hips uselessly.

That moment of gentleness faded as soon as it arrived. Medic gripped the edge of the table for leverage as he fucked you against it. The metal creaked beneath the barrage, but it wouldn’t give away. This table was built to hold the likes of Heavy, there was no way it would buckle. Any other surface very well might have, though.

“I’ve wanted to do this for such a long time,” Medic groaned, his voice low and his breathing heavy. Even now, he tried to take in every feature, committing the image of you taking him so nicely to memory. Everything from the gentle bounce of your chest to the way you bit your lower lip in a vain attempt to smother your own moans would be a detail he could call upon during lonely nights. “If only I knew sooner that you were so smitten with something as simple as my voice.”

Suddenly, his grip shifted to your waist, pulling you forward to meet his thrusts. You keened, feeling him drive deeper into you. He rocked his hips against yours, letting you grind and adjust to the newfound depth.

“Medic,” you began, struggling to catch your breath enough to speak. “Medic, I want- oh fuck!”

“What is it, liebchen?” He paused, letting you regain enough composure to speak. “Go on, tell me what you need.”

“Just keep speaking to me, please, until I come,” you pleaded.

“What would you like to speak about?” He asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Anything,” you said, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “And could you maybe do it in German?”

“Natürlich, kleine Taube. Ich glaube, du willst es härter, ja?” Now unable to understand him, the ferocious pace you were subjected to came without warning. You held onto the edges of the table, feeling the metal dig into your fingers as your grip tightened. Medic’s fingers pressed into the softness of your waist. You gasped when his nails dug in as well, adding a delightfully painful edge to the pleasure. “Das gefällt dir, nicht wahr?”

The pain was gone almost as suddenly as it began. You whined, unable to hide how much you had enjoyed the rougher treatment. It wasn’t long before you got another taste. Medic’s hands moved down to your ass, his nails leaving little crescent shaped indents in the supple flesh there as well. You were starting to pant, mouth agape and gasping as he suddenly lifted your hips upward.

“Gott, du hast so einen schönen Arsch. Das nächste Mal sollte ich dich von hinten nehmen.” This new angle proved to be very effective. You were much louder like this, his cock hitting all the right spots. Medic knew that if he were to simply touch your clit right now, you would be coming for him in seconds. However he wasn’t ready for this to end just yet.

Your moans were music to his ears. Should any of his fellow mercenaries pass by the infirmary right now, it wouldn’t be hard to determine just what was happening. The thought managed to rouse some envy in Medic. Your sweet sounds were for him alone. Perhaps it would be better to quiet you down for now. Leaning down, he pressed his lips roughly to yours, muffling your noises. You still whimpered between kisses, but they were soft and subtle, just barely loud enough to reach his ears.

“Magst du es, wenn ich dich küsse? Soll ich weitermachen?” he murmured, stealing another soul reaping kiss. This was quite liberating, being able to say whatever he wanted to you, only to watch you melt at the sound of it every time. “Du musst nicht antworten. Es ist für mich offensichtlich.”

You rolled your hips to meet his. He felt the way your muscles flexed under his hands, and he knew you were close. You whimpered and gasped, haphazardly bucking against him, chasing the last bit of sensation that would tip you over the edge. Your expression was a beautiful mix of desperate frustration and overwhelming pleasure. It was a sight that brought Medic dangerously close to losing control. Realizing he was reaching his limit, he finally showed you some mercy, knowing that the look on your face when you came would far outweigh anything he had yet seen.

“Komm für mich,” he groaned. One hand splayed out on your lower stomach, his thumb reached down to rub quick circles over your clit. You may not have known German, but you could most certainly infer what that meant. You shuddered, back arching, letting out a harsh sounding moan as your orgasm overtook you. “Du fühlst dich so gut an. Ich komme- scheiße!”

Now that you had reached your peak, Medic’s inhibitions seemed to be gone. He chased his own climax, thrusting into you roughly and unevenly. When he finally went still, you had practically gone limp beneath him, overstimulated and teary eyed. When he came you could have sworn he was even louder than you were. You almost wondered if he was playing it up, given your affinity for his voice, but on the other hand, Medic was loud and proud in most situations. It would only make sense that he was a bit of a screamer himself.

When he finally came down from his high he noticed how you were trembling. It was clear that your body was overwhelmed. A few tears managed to spill down your cheeks, even as a blissed out smile remained on your face. You probably didn’t even realize you were crying. Medic withdrew carefully, making an apologetic sound when you whimpered at the sensation.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” he said, stating the obvious. Medic observed you for a moment, making sure you were alright, before you suddenly found yourself being hoisted against his chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist for stability as he lifted you off the table and carried you towards an offshoot of the infirmary. Before you could ask where he was going, or how the hell he had the strength left to carry you like this, Medic opened the door to reveal a small, but cozy room. This was clearly his personal quarters. It made sense that it would be part of the infirmary.

“Why are we here?” you asked. Your words were soft, as if raising your voice above a whisper might shatter the pleasant afterglow that had began to settle over you.

“It is quite late. The least I could do is let you stay the night.” Medic laid you down on the surprisingly plush mattress. This was luxury compared to your barracks. You stretched out before burrowing into the blankets letting them engulf you.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For all of this. That was so good.”

“I had fun as well, mein Täubchen.”

That pet name was new. He had used it a few times tonight, but only now did it pique your interest. “What does that mean?” you asked.

Medic smiled softly. “My dove.”

“Oh,” you said, too flustered to say much else. Being compared to one of his beloved pets felt nice. It made you feel delicate, like something to be cared for.

“You blush so easily!” Medic said with pure glee. You almost expected him to pinch your cheeks. “I will definitely enjoy this side of you, liebe, so easy to tease!

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, trying to brush it off, even though you knew your face was practically glowing with the flush that you were sporting. “Maybe we can do more tomorrow. I’m exhausted.”

“Of course. This was quite an eventful day.” Medic kissed your forehead, an oddly tender gesture after all the rough treatment. “Get some rest. I will join you once I’ve cleaned up in the infirmary.”

Medic left and you closed your eyes. When he returned just a few minutes later you were already asleep, snoring softly in your sanctuary of pillows and blankets. He had never seen you so relaxed before. You murmured something unintelligible when Medic slipped under the covers beside you, whispering for you to go back to sleep as he draped an arm over you, feeling your body press closely against his in the peaceful darkness.

[gabriel-xander]

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

29: Is Baby Gronk the New Rizz King, Interlinked?

♪────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

Why are you not surprised that even after that night, you and that bone man aren’t officially together still? This is some bullshit, right? Like, this shit is straight-up rigged against you.

You can’t deny that it doesn’t feel urgent to make it explicit for this past week. Sans has been more affectionate towards you, kinder, more flirtatious, and doesn’t shy away from your teasing comments or anyone else’s.

It FEELS like a relationship, but he hasn’t said anything otherwise.

…Okay, you haven’t either, but it would feel more meaningful if it came from him, okay?!

That’s not to say you’re dissatisfied or unhappy, either. It’s just that ONE thing that SANS needs to do to make YOU feel 10-times more secure about where exactly you two stand in each other’s lives.

…Oh, God. You’re in a situationship with Sans the motherfucking skeleton from the hit indie game, Undertale.

But is it really a situationship?

You’re glaring at him now, sitting right next to him on the couch, having a nice one-on-one time while Papyrus was having his weekly sleepover at Undyne’s. You’re watching some thriller-adventure that looks like it was made in the 80’s. It doesn’t look familiar but it’s definitely from the surface.

Sans is a whole, bone-afide, spooky, scary skeleton. His bone is pure white which is extremely unnatural for real skeletal structures. It helps remind your brain he’s not an actual skeleton outside of a human body. Their usual sharp features have been rounded out, and his permanent smile somehow looked natural despite not having lips.

You’re ashamed to admit how long it actually took to get used to him and Papyrus. They’re less scary and more so just… odd but there. Compared to Sans, his younger brother has a more cartoony vibe to his appearance. Papyrus calls himself handsome most mornings in the mirror if he remembers to, but it does have you thinking a lot about how you view Sans in a purely physical attraction sense.

…You don’t really know. You think you’re too biased towards him to have an honest opinion.

You have preferences obviously for what you like, especially when it comes to fiction. However, you like to think you’re genuinely not the type to care so much about what someone looks like as long as the character and personality are strong and meet your standards in those regards.

For Sans, strictly speaking, you liked him in fiction. You loved his character in the game, and you loved the fanart ironically, but that was that. Fanart.

Seeing him now in person? That “buffer” of liking him from before helps a lot, but those feelings naturally developed outside of that. He was intelligent, funny, observant, laid-back, kind, considerate, and overall a swell guy. You are very attracted to all of those traits in him, it’s no surprise at all that your platonic feelings casually blended into the romantic ones.

But physically. Do you find an attraction to him physically?

…Yeah, you can work with it.

“Hey,” You tap the side of his head, “look at me.”

“heh, i was wonderin’ when you were gonna say somethin’,” Sans turns to you with a cheeky grin, his eye-sockets squinting slightly from his amusement, “you’ve been staring at me for three minutes.”

“Can I kiss you, or is that weird ‘cause you don’t have lips?”

His eyes go wide at the same time his eye-lights dilate big. His red blush forms fast and dark, spreading furiously over his face. His smile, to your surprise, almost completely drops somehow. The corners of his mouth (Mouth? Teeth? Same thing.) have a particular shape that makes them seem fuller and more “closed” compared to an actual skeleton. You didn’t notice that before since he’s always smiling.

Actually, like this, he looks less skeletal and more like the cartoony-type Sans you’re used to seeing in fanart.

“ar-are you serious?”

“Yeah,” You answer honestly with a nod, “Monsters kiss each other, right? Or are you just not interested in that stuff? In that case, it’s completely fine-”

“-no, no i just…” He clears his throat, looking away with a conflicted expression, “i never gave it much thought before. and now with you… i dunno, i just thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Because you’re a bone boy?”

He snorts, “yes. because i’m a bone boy.”

You scoff out a small laugh, “Sans, if I had a problem with what you are, I wouldn’t have told you I liked you. I’d friend-zone the shit out of you. You probably wouldn’t have known I liked you at all.”

He looks at the TV screen with a thoughtful look. You let him think about it, leaning your head on his shoulder to watch the movie.

See, this is the problem.

You’re just casually asking to kiss him and talking about your feelings BUT HE HASN’T ASKED FOR YOUR HAND FOR BOYFRIEND-GIRLFRIEND STATUS!! And you’re not even THAT mad about it because that conversation just now was perfectly fine and it would’ve been the same if you guys WERE exclusive.

You’re momentarily distracted from the movie when the scene shows David Bowie’s crotch again. Wait a damn minute, you recognize this movie, it’s The Labyrinth! Ahh, you haven’t seen this since you were a kid! You can’t believe you didn’t realize it sooner!

“[y/n].”

You smile and look at him, “Yes? Oh!”

You jerk back but hold onto his arm to keep him close still.

Sans…

He looks different now.

“you remember when I told you a long time ago, that i ran solely on magic?”

“Uh… Yeah… Yeah, i do.”

“and you remember when you were telling me about pollux? how he could change his form to whatever he wanted?”

“Yes…?” You give him a side eye, “Are you saying you’re the same way? You–You and Papyrus–can do that, too?”

He nods, furrowing his brows though this time it was more noticeable. “bingo. you’ve seen it before when my bro gets really excited or shy, his eyes get all big and starry.”

You widen your eyes in realization, “Ohhh! Because of magic?! I mean, duh, because of magic! But that’s a conscious effort to do?”

“something like that, yeah.”

Sans gestures to his now much rounder face. This is the Sans you originally expected to see when you first met him.

His eye-sockets are larger and a bit rounder, his nose is a tad smaller and slightly pointed if you look at him from the side. His grin was plastered on the way you see in the game only that you can see at the corners of his mouth that he could open it if he wanted to. You look down at his arm and grab his hand, taking off his glove to take a closer look. His bones were thicker and less angular, and the ends of his fingers were less pointy as well. You’re not going to start feeling up his entire body, but it’s clear there was a whole fucking body change.

“this is… more or less what i… usually look like. should look like.” Sans lets you hold his hand but he’s very pointedly turning away from you. “i won’t get into it, you and i have that habit of getting off track too much. but there was a timeline, a long while ago, i knew i had to–i thought i had to look sharper. had to look scarier. it worked for a while, but…”

He sighs and closes his eyes, “it got to the point of doing it so much after each reset that i just began to reset looking that way. looking like a scary skeleton, and i didn’t care enough to do something about it.”

Sans is talking about Frisk, you know that. Sans had morphed himself to look like a hyper-realistic skeleton because it scared the shit out of Frisk.

The human mind cannot handle that sort of trauma under normal circumstances. There was a similar test done with the trauma that came from seeing a brain outside of a body. To the average person, it was severely traumatizing and haunting. Seeing a real skeleton can leave similar effects.

Frisk being just a child, it’s no wonder Sans sought that method to be the most effective.

Finally, Sans looks at you, a sheepish smile on his face, “you just reminded me you’re not someone i wanna scare away. but uh… if it turns out you’re into freaky skeletons… actually, i dunno what i’d do.”

You raise your free hand to his face, “Can I touch?”

“yeah, of course.”

You go to cup his cheek first, stroking your thumb on the swell of his round cheek. It’s soft, and definitely a lot smoother than before. You also trace under his eyes, noticing a vague darker coloring under them. Something like eye-bags, you think. His nose is in the cute shape of a pointy heart, so you boop it because that’s the law.

Awe, you feel his face heating up underhand from his blush.

You grin, “You’re so squishy.”

“…thanks. i think ‘round’ is more what i-”

Both of your hands are now cupping his blushing face. Ugh, his expressions are actually so much more expressive now. His embarrassment was adorable and you’re feeling the rise of cuteness aggression swelling in your chest.

“Hey, Sans.”

“ye-yeah?”

“I still would’ve wanted to kiss you before. But I like this, too.”

“ughhh…” He ducks his head down, shaking his head while laughing. “this is it. all of my good luck? right here. i really lucked out with you. now it’s bad karma for the rest of my life.”

You deadpan, “Bro, you better stop saying cute shit before I kiss the fuck out of you.”

“you’re actually serious?!”

This fucking dude…!

“Oh, my God! Yes! Can I kiss you, yay or nay?!”

“yay!–i mean, yes!-”

Men are so complicated and emotional.

Tightening your hold on his face, you close your eyes and move forward. You don’t get to see it, but you feel it. You forget sometimes just how malleable Sans’ bones really are, how soft they can be if he wants them to be.

You don’t feel lips per se, too firm to be that and too dry. You think it’s his teeth (Of course it would be, what else?) that he willed to be softer and more malleable to better fit against your lips.

It only lasts a few seconds with Sans being the one to pull away first. He had a stupid little smile on his face and his blush had died down some but was still very prominent. He has that expression that screams “fuck yeah.”

“hey.”

Oh God.

“Yeah?”

“guess who’s definitely a monster-fucker now? you are.”

You pull away from him with a dead look in your eyes, “Okay, we’re done here.”

“ha ha ha! wait, no–come back!”

────────────

A/N: TLDR I drew Sans that way on the cover intentionally cuz otherwise, I would’ve drawn biblically accurate hyper-realistic Sans lmao I’ll include it here again cause I think it’s neat

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

@adriixboo

@fluffyart5000

@fetusbaconegg

[corysmiles]

Oh ok! Didnt expect such excitement lol. Its not to deep of an idea, but it centers around Phil and Ranboo mostly, but we can absolutely involve the others in the shinanigens in the future. ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

Heres the set up:

In Phils season 2 hardcore world he throws a trident into the void not knowing loyalty wouldnt save it from that, and in S4 hardcore world he builds a giant trident in endlantis with the lore that what happened was the void warped the trident he threw in and made it giant.

Then in S3 he looses his world really fast because a glitch happens when he goes to the end, where he looses control of his character and is pushed into the void.

Also a lot of the builds in S4 involve giant deities or giant structres along side regular sized things.

Its a "minecraft is real life with respawns and stuff" but when a player makes a "new world" they arent creating it, theyre just getting sent to a random location thats supposed to be uninhabited but on rare occasions they end up in a strange place with signs of previous life beyond the usual.

If a player does "hardcore" world they will either be sent to a new world or spat back out to the hub between worlds if they die and try to respawn

So heres the idea,

Phil does his usual hardcore world stuff, he stays in touch with his friends with communicators, texting and voice calls and stuff. He can leave and visit them, but he often gets really focused in hardcore worlds and spends extended amounts of time in them.

When he throws his trident into the void he doesnt think anything of it when it doesnt return. He just thinks its gone forever. But when he falls into the void in his next world, he "dies" and respawns, but instead of being given the choice to go to the hub or a new world the void isnt gonna let him go so simply. He feels it effect him to his very core, unaware how long hes falling for, before it spits him back out into a new world. He checks himself over and finds nothing different, and he still has access to the hub, so he just treats it as he usually would and goes back to getting set up in the new world.

This world is weird, he keeps stumbling across things that dont belong in a "new" world. Like endlantis, the void cube, etc. The blaze empress and the skeleton of the ender king are bigger then any creature hes ever seen but the blaze empress's guards are him sized so he doesnt think anything of it. But they arent the only thing that are weird, he tells the others like Techno and Will about how strange everything else here is. Some plant life is normal, but a lot is as giant as the deities to. And theres also just random giant structures that normally would be him sized are the exact same level of giant. He even found the trident he thought was lost forever in endlantis, but now its HUGE! The void must have done that to it. Luckily the void didnt do anything to him, other then kill and force him to respawn here.

But then after a couple of months Techno asks him to come visit, he wants to catch up in person. So Phil prepares to leave to the hub where his piglin friend will he waiting for him. And when whats outside his world waiting for him?

A gigantic hub.

Phil freaks out, all those things in his world werent big, he was tiny!! The void did change him after all! After barley managing to catch a giant Technos attention and he helps Phil calm down, they realize that the void must have done that to the rest of the things in Phils hardcore world that didnt line up in size. Phil was just the first player to fall into that world. They end up going back to Phils world to try and figure out how to fix him, but Techno remains his full size and cant hope to fit into Phils tiny base. So he heads back to try and find awnsers elsewhere, and Phils just kinda stuck tiny now.

But I did say Ranboo was involved didnt I? >:)

Phil tries to go back to normal life after failing to find awnsers on his own, but he cant stop looking at the world with new eyes. These aren't giant, hes tiny. Him, that tree, that cow, all small enough to sit in Technos hand. When Wilbur and Tommy hear about this they try and visit but encounter the same problem of being too big for any of Phils spaces and usually go home before long. Phil meanwhile starts searching Endlantis for any possible answers. The End is the place closest to the void, it should help him, right?

And after venturing deeper into endlantis farther then hes ever gone, he meets a giant ender creature. No like, actually giant. This ones big enough that hed be able to pick a regular human child up like a teddy bear, Phils only the size of his pinky. Hes scared of him at first but it turns out hes actually friendly! His name is Ranboo, he wears a crown, and is a prince. The son of the late Ender King and this destroyed kingdom. His father was evil so he doesnt really feel loss that hes dead, but he has been lonely ever since he hid deep enough into the end that the water wouldnt reach him. Phil promises to come back to visit him, quickly growing fond of the young giant prince.

After visiting enough times Ranboo asks if he can come back with Phil. He doesnt like it in the deep corners of the end, its too lonely. Phil tries to explain to him that his base will be far too small. But Ranboo assures him that will be fine. And then right in front of his eyes, Ranboo shrinks down to Phils size.

Ranboo explains he prefers his full height, but has been able to size shift for as long as he can remember. Phil comes to the conclusion this must be because as the prince of the realm, hes closely enough tied to the void that he can control its effects on him. But he cant do it for other things. So he agrees to help Phil try and learn out how control the voids powers to so he can get back to his regular size to.

-❤ anon

Oh yes!! This au idea is so cool :0

I love the idea of Ranboo just going around with Phil to figure out how to fix his size. And also it would be pretty useful for Phil to have a giant friend who can get into all the huge buildings that spawned around the world (and get the trident)

Question though, would Ranboo be able to visit the hub with Phil? Or is he stuck in this specific world because he was born there???

(Also any name ideas for this new au?) :] 💙

[notmrskennedy]

Whatever You Need

(Chip x Fem!Reader)

A/N - am I little in love with Chip? Yes, but who isn’t? So please enjoy my hot take on our lovely Mr. Chip Taylor

Summary - a university professor meets a very adorable maintenance guy ...

Warnings - a pinch of swearing and two teaspoons of mentioning gross things

Word Count - 3k 

-------

There’s a thin line, she realises as she rushes into the lecture hall, between anthropological research and grave robbing. When you’re on loan to the federal government and a water pipe bursts at a cemetery, there isn’t much to do other than say, ‘yes sir Mr. FBI agent, I will gladly slop through three feet of mud and water, digging through graves!’

She’s ten minutes late to her lecture. Ten minutes long enough that the TA’s are snickering. Ten minutes long enough that the entire class looks horrified that their Anthropology 101 professor is covered head to toe in dried mud, grass, and whatever else could be found in destroyed 19th century coffins.

She sets her bag down heavily on the desk and startles everyone in the room. Sans the maintenance guy. He’s tinkering with vent at the foot of door. He’s mostly a faded ball cap and a distressed jean jacket, one arm shoved up the vent. She can’t imagine why someone would have their arm up a vent, but god only knows why the university would ask someone to.

A moment passes where she unabashedly stares. How did she miss him? Was she in that much of a hurry that she nearly tripped on the guy and didn’t look back? And what the hell is in that vent?

The TA’s snicker behind her back, sobering up when she shoots them a half deadly look. She’s covered in mud, not lenience. She half hopes Maintenance Guy will turn around—she has a desperate, yet beguiling feeling he’s hot. But what she’s really curious for is what’s stuck up that vent.

And he doesn’t turn around—his complete disregard of her is a 180 from the rapt attention she’s receiving from her students—until she’s frustratedly brushing dirt off her face. Pulling grass from her hair.

“Let me just start with,” she begins, pulling an earth worm out of her sleeve, “if the federal government asks you to sort through bodies in a flooded cemetery, tell them no. And despite how much fun grave digging can be, there’s a thin line and that line is punctuated by whether they’re arresting me or not.”

Maintenance Guy snorts, head turned to beam up at her. She’s almost taken aback by how bright he seems. How his grin puts the sun in its place. He looks honest, grease stains and all.

There’s something to be said about the fact she’s studying his bone structure instead of his fleshy bits. She can’t tell you what colour his eyes are, but his zygomatic bones are killer.

“Professor?” a TA prompts, ineffectively holding back their own knowing smiles.

“Thanks for reminding me,” she replies, digging through her bag to hand out a stack of student essays. “Pass these back, please?”

Tick one for the professor.

“And as per usual,” she announces, leaning back against the white board, “let’s do our daily recap. And as you know, these questions can be used to aid in exams.”

She sneaks a glance at Maintenance Guy, pulling his arm out from the vent. He grumbles, digs through his toolbox, and grabs a screwdriver. Whatever is in that vent is stuck.

Once the rustling stops, she says, “Okay, question one: if your professor—that would be me for those of us who are new—were to be one of, say, five wives with one husband, it’s called—?”

“Polygamy!” a student shouts from the front row.

“You’re right, but you aren’t correct,” she says, standing up straight. “Polygamy is the practice of having more than one spouse. Polygyny—with an ’n’—is multiple wives to one husband. Examples of the culture are Kenya’s Logoli and other Abalulya sub ethnic groups.”

She writes it on the board for spelling, and glances over to see Maintenance Guy paused in his excavation of the vent. He’s paying better attention than her students. It’s sort of sweet and she stifles her soft giggle at the thought.

He’s ridiculously tall and she takes a moment to appreciate just how long his femurs have to be.

“Question two!” she announces and finds even the most hungover kids forcing their attention on her. “If your professor were to marry five men all at once, that’s called—?”

“Polyandry,” a student pipes up from the back. “A lot of times it’s fraternal marriage.”

“Examples of a culture that practices—”

Pop!

Maintenance Guy rolls back with the force. His knees are still bent from where they’d been used as leverage against the vent, a wall of debris bursting into his face. In one gloved hand was a dead raccoon, while the other desperately brushed bits of the vent’s clog—a raccoon’s nest—from his eyes.

“Oh Jesus,” she mutters, jumping into action. She picks up a garbage bag from his toolbox and nets the dead animal from his hand. It’s a pretty tame find, though she’s used to human remains which tended to be—gooier.

With the animal tucked up, she hauls Maintenance Guy to a sitting position, frantically cleaning the odds and ends of the nest out of his eyes. She steals his ball cap as she whispers kind words to him, further trying to shake the bits of insulation out of his shaggy hair.

The class is in a terrible chatter behind them. Not that it matters. Not with Maintenance Guy’s eyes opened and his hands gently clutching onto her wrists as she brushes the last bits of insulation off his cheeks. His eyes are definitely hazel up this close.

“Thanks,” he croaks, still gently latched onto her hands.

“It’s no problem,” she smiles back, absently studying the rest of his face. He’s got the kind of skull she’d love to see on her table—well, maybe once he’s died of his own accord because he seems rather sweet. Confused and concerned, but…sweet. “Don’t worry. I’ve had much worse flung all over me. You don’t much get used to it.”

He smiles, barely chuckling. Coughs up a bit of insulation.

“You might want to see a doctor. Insulation in the lungs is…what gets you a one way ticket to my lab.” She grins at her own terrible joke. His eyes are too close and she can’t help but wish for a skeleton to be looking back at her. She understands those. People are too…gooey.

“I’m Chip,” he offers, silently asking her for help to his feet. She does, offering her own name in return. He mulls over it, like it’s a fine wine sitting on his tongue. “Professor Y/N. Thanks again.”

She shrugs, mouth suddenly too dry. Heart beating too fast. Jesus, human interaction was going to kill her. There was no job to distract her from Chip’s strong hands. There were no bodies to keep Chip’s genuine gaze off of her. There wasn’t anything to distract from seeing Chip as so pleasantly human.

“Want the raccoon as a consolation prize?” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck with a newly de-gloved hand. There’s something satisfying about answering questions that aren’t meant as questions. Especially ones that showed just how weird she really was. The questions that were relationship testers—like can we be friends if I tell you that I keep carrion beetles as pets?

“Actually, sure.” Chip’s jaw drops just slightly open. He has cute teeth. “Dissection is a key part of the anthropological process, forensic or not. Let’s see just what this raccoon was up to. Eh, class?”

Every single one a deer in the headlights, the class goes eerily silent. She winks at Chip and announces again. “Don’t you guys want to see what I do for a living? I mean human remains are much cooler but I think we can settle for a mostly solid raccoon carcass.”

A TA clutches at her stomach. “Professor, never say that again.”

The professor just laughs, absentmindedly taking a soft grip on Chip’s shoulder. “Don’t worry everyone, Chip’s going to keep the raccoon. At least I’m not making the final a practical examination. I do have access to laboratory rats—“

The entire class clambered forward, hoping to dispel the idea and the evil smirk off their professor’s lips. She just beamed back at Chip, dropping her hand. She expected the same horrified expression of her students, but he seemed, dare she say, impressed.

That wide eyed shock creeps onto her face. Because who would risk being impressed by a professor covered in dirt from grave digging who offered to dissect a raccoon at 10 AM on a Tuesday?

Apparently, it’s this guy. Must have a thing for crazy women.

Chip shakes his head, bites his lip, and turns to stoop for his raccoon trophy. “I’ll, uh, have them send someone for the nest. I—I guess I have to do something with the raccoon, if you’re sure you don’t want it?”

She just shakes her head, failing miserably at keeping her cherry red tint to herself. “No, no. Maybe next time.”

“Next time,” he repeats, rather sadly, to himself. Though, as he turns to leave, it feels more like a promise.

#

The worst part about knowing Chip is that she seems to see him everywhere. Rushing between lecture halls? There he is, doing his best to fix a fountain. Getting escorted away by federal agents? There he is, sympathetically waving as he walks across the quad. Leading a group of students outside to lecture on the green? There’s Chip, fixing a sprinkler.

She’s had exactly three times in the last six months to talk to him. All under three minutes.

But today, today she’s running late from court. Grand jury testimony had gone fine, until Agent—God, she’ll never learn his name—WhatsHisFace tried to ask her out again. Because what a turn on talking about the mutilation of a hacked up college girl was.

It also didn’t help that, outside of the court room half an hour before, she was doodling what she thought Chip’s skull would look like.

So she can’t help but storm into her postage stamp of a classroom, dropping her package on the desk with a gentle, yet annoyed huff. Her 12 students, all seniors in the Anthropology department, raised their eyebrows at her. At her court getup.

She’d missed those formative lessons at 13 on how to be a proper lady. And even if she had had them, it probably wouldn’t have stuck. Besides, what she wore into the field had to be more than acceptable for the university’s standards. The heels and pink blouse of today were extremely rare and uncomfortable.

“Whoa, Professor Y/N!” Reese Rosebeck calls out, dramatically twitching in his chair, “Is that really you? You look hot!”

“Ha, ha. That’s a very coherent thought for the kid who wrote the worst paper I’ve ever read,” she deadpans. She relents when she sees his dramatic puppy dog pout. “Though, I do have to say I enjoyed you’re use of colloquial slang. Accentuated your point very cleverly.”

“As long as I impress the hottest professor on campus, I’m alright.”

There was a quiet laugh from the back of the room, and she found her eyes snapping to the hunched over back of none other than, Maintenance Guy Chip Taylor. He’s just quietly listening—as always—tinkering with the radiator pipes in the back of the room. She’s half thankful. It is starting to get cold.

“Hey, Chip!” she chirps and the poor thing bangs his head on the pipes. He waves her off in a flash, hand extended wildly above the other desks in the room. Reese chuckles to himself, dragging Lionel with him.

She kicks her heels off behind her desk, straightening herself once she’s back on stable ground. She’s about three apples short of a pie to wear heels for more than six consecutive minutes. The female students give her rather sympathetic looks as she begins to roll her feet and open her package.

She pauses halfway in. Jeez, she forgot about—“Hey, Chip?”

Like a meerkat, he pops up with a dazzling soft grin.

“Are you going to call the cops on me?”

“Excuse me?”

Her students’ eyes bounce back and forth between the pair, following the invisible tennis match. The professor settles on a rather tired, “Are you going to call the cops? The last person who attended lecture that didn’t know me, called the cops because of a demonstration. So, are you?”

“No.” He shakes his head and she wonders if he’s a little too trusting. He’s honest as he leans back down to continue futzing with the pipes. He’s genuine in every interaction they have. Does she really deserve the kind of trust he’s offering? To a crazy woman who’s asked if he’ll call the cops on her?

She shakes the thought away. These 12 students—tangible students—need her focus. At least for the next few minutes. She pulls six human skulls from her package, all neatly wrapped up in protective glass cases. She places those on the table along with a box of gloves.

“Two people to a skull,” she announces and runs through the rest of the directions. “Don’t forget your gloves. You too, Ms. Figg.”

Jamie Figg’s fierce blush is long forgotten once they are all set to work. Tactile learning is the best way to learn in her opinion, expressly in advanced classes like these. It also gives her a moment to rest her brain—even if it’s a few minutes before the onslaught of necessary questions.

She settles into an unused section of chairs and desks, smiling absently at the way all of the kids have squeezed themselves around the one table. She misses the days when she was young and new, ready to find her own legs to stand on.

Chip’s not quiet and she watches him with too much adoration as he sits down next to her. It’s not all too unexpected nor uninvited. He smells like grease and good cologne up close, mixed up with that dangerous combination of hazel eyes and delicious bone structure.

Chip smirks, drawing her out of her smidge of staring. “See anything good?”

“You have excellent bones,” she mutters, tracing a finger against her own cheek instead of his. “Prominent zygomatic bones and well balanced supraorbital margins. But the, um, the rest of you is—is nice too.”

Oh great one, Y/N. Perfect. You’re such a fucking creep.

Chip just smiles. The kind of soft upturn of the lips and dip of the head that means he took it like the compliment it was meant as. He runs a rather shakey hand through his hair, bringing his gaze back up to do his own staring. She wonders what he sees about her. She’s sure he doesn’t see bone structure like she does, but does her flesh give away something she doesn’t know about?

Chip wrings his hand down behind his neck and she sees it. That little bit of something that brews between his bones and his epidermis. The fuzzy sort of thing that sits behind his eyes. The one she’s seen in war veterans, cops, and now the university’s maintenance man.

And as if he’s just a skull on her table, she states ever so eloquently, “You look like the kind of guy who’s seen some shit, Chip.”

And as if she’s accepted his offer for the raccoon all over again, he beams. He further turns away from her, shaking his head, and she follows his eye line to the students not so subtly glancing over at the pair every three seconds. The dozen are still chattering on, examining the skulls in their hands with rapt fascination.

Chip, despite all the non-threatening, sensitive, idiot boy vibes, looks over the skulls with more recognition than she cares to admit she sees. Most people don’t look at skulls like they’re familiar. Like the idea of them being formerly attached to a living person doesn’t bother them.

Again, looks like he’s seen some shit.

“Are they real?”

She nods, taking a tiny chance and pressing their shoulders together. She’s not upset to say that Chip carries very warm skin on his lovely skeletal structure. She wipes the blush off her cheeks and answers, “From the university’s collection. I’ve done a lot of travelling, lots of excavations, lots of grave robbing—sometimes the university doesn’t miss the skulls of the not-so-recently deceased.”

“You’re very—“

“Creepy? Weird?”

She hopes that Chip is too stupid to hear the insecurity bleed through. That he’s too stupid to look at her the way he is. Instead, he squints as if he can’t risk choosing the wrong adjective, so the words inch through his brain. All carefully refined into his choice of, “…Intelligent.”

His takes her hand in his to accentuate his point. She nearly stops breathing.

“You’ve forgotten more this morning than I’ll ever know,” he whispers. She doesn’t know how to look at him without letting him see the hearts in her eyes. Her fingers tighten against his. “I’d never call you creepy.”

She swallows, fighting against the rock in her throat. It wasn’t often people paid her any compliments, especially after she’d let her mouth run for more than five minutes in a one-on-one conversation.

And as if she isn’t already trying to desperately clutch onto her frayed nerves, he confidently pulls a slightly creased business card from his shirt pocket. Offers it to her irritatedly hesitant fingers.

“I do home visits, you know,” he says, putting more weight into where their skin touches. “So, if you’re dishwasher breaks or something, give me—give me a call.”

Chip squeezes her fingers one more time, double checks she’s holding onto the business card, and walks back for his toolbox. Only when the classroom door is closing behind him does Reese shout out, “Oh-ho-ho! Professor’s getting some!”

“Get back to your skull before I use yours as a soup bowl,” she snaps, though she can’t hide the cherries in her cheeks as she thumbs over the business card. Chip Taylor. Whatever you need.

[theninjamouse]

Kiss prompt 48 for either Grillby/Shore or Gaster/Shore

(Also is it ok if I send another?)

(You can send as MANY as you like :D Also, just for you, you get BOTH) 

48: One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s.

***

Monsters, far more than humans, come in a very wide variety of shapes and sizes. The smallest you’ve seen are no larger than the palm of your hand, while the largest ones easily reach the size of whales (though for the most part, those monsters stick to the ocean or mountains and aren’t nearly as common). 

You’re just lucky enough to have found yourself involved with two that range on the much taller than the average human spectrum. Grillby is admittedly more fluid in his height, given the ever changing nature of the flames on the top of his head. But at any given moment, he easily hits the mid range between six and six and a half feet tall.

Then there’s Gaster. Gaster, who ‘supposedly’ modeled after a typical human skeleton. There is nothing typical about that monster, from his bone structure to the fact that he stops just shy of seven feet tall when he actually stands up straight. 

As for you. Well. Tall isn’t exactly a word one would use to describe you. ‘Tiny’, ‘Squirt’, and ‘Beansprout’ are the more common words. Standing between the two monsters never fails to encourage snickers among your friends. You’re more than used to it at this point. Not to mention, there is something very satisfying about being able to be very snugly fit between them during movie time on the couch and other such activities. 

So it fills you with great delight on the very rare occasion that Gaster and Grillby find themselves too short to reach something. In this particular instance, it’s Grillby that you come upon; he’s frowning up at the very top of one of the shelves in the bar where the ‘good stuff’ lives. The item he’s after is a bottle that’s sat at the very top shelf for as long as you’ve been coming to the bar, like some silent watcher of the place.

“What happened to the stool in the kitchen?” he asks, flames twitching like the tail of a hyper cat. 

“Uh, Gaster might have broken it. Last week when he did the thing with the-”

“Toaster, yes I remember now.” Grillby sighs. “When I put it up there I didn’t think anyone was ever actually going to want it, let alone put in a pre-party request for it.” 

“I could climb the shelves?” you offer with a wide grin. 

“Absolutely not.” 

Ah, a shame but not surprising. You purse your lips. “Oh! Here, kneel down.” 

His brows raise with a dash of color. “That’s the opposite of what we’re trying to do here.” 

“Hush and just do it.” 

He snorts a soft puff of smoke but does as you ask, lowering down to his knees. Gleefully you move behind him and carefully swing your legs over his shoulders. “Think you handle lifting me up?” 

That gets a genuine laugh out of him. “I think I can manage.” Hands on your calves, he smoothly stands back up with no effort. To him and his mighty elemental strength, you probably weigh about as much as a loaf of bread to him.

You squeak at the sudden change in height, wrapping your arms around his neck. The floor is so far away! “Wow, you really can see everything up here,” you say breathlessly. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, just adjusting to the change in altitude. The air’s rather thin up here.” 

“Just grab the bottle, would you please?”    

You gently whack his head. “Gimme a minute, this is a new experience!” 

The soft tingle of the bell at the front of the empty bar signals Gaster’s return from his work at the university. He pauses just inside the door, a mighty grin creeping up his skull at the sight of you two. 

“Why Shore, it looks like those growth simulants I’ve slipped in your drinks are finally working,” he says lightly as he crosses over to you, casually tossing his bag down on an empty chair as he passes by it. 

“You jest but I wouldn’t put it past you.” Woah, this is weird. For the first time you’re actually looking down at the skeleton, rather than craning your neck up. It makes a delighted thrill run through your chest. “Good day at work?” 

He hums in affirmation, pressing a skeletal nuzzling kiss on Grillby’s cheek. “Hello dear.” 

“Hi,” Grillby murmurs sweetly.

You pout. “Hey, where’s mine?” 

Cheekily, Gaster sighs. “Well I can’t reach you up there, now can I?” 

“Oh put in a little effort!” You crook your finger at him. “C’mon, lets see some tippy toes from you for once.” 

Gaster’s brows raise. “May I borrow you?” he asks Grillby. 

Grillby shrugs under your legs. “Go wild. I’m already the stool for the day it seems.” 

Gaster places one long fingered hand on Grillby’s chest for balance and rises up on his tiptoes. Even so, you have to bend over a little to meet the gentle kiss he nuzzles on your cheek. Warmth blooms and tingles over the spot his kiss landed and you grin goofily at him as he lowers himself back down. 

“Satisfied?” he asks. 

“Very.” You put your hands on Grillby’s cheeks, gently turning his head up to you. “And one for my favorite stepstool.” You kiss his forehead, all hunched over to reach. But it’s worth it to see the pleased blue that swims through his flames. 

Gaster watches the two of you, eye lights soft. “So uh, what exactly prompted this whole thing? Curiosity?” 

“Hmm?” Oh yeah! “Bottle!” You reach out and grab it, holding it triumphantly in the air. 

Or at least that’s your plan. It’s heavy and thick with dust and it slips right between your fingers. Fortunately, Grillby reacts with his usual reflexes, releasing one leg to grab the bottle mid-air. You wobble just a little, clinging to his neck. 

All three of you release a breath. “Let’s get you down before anything breaks,” Grillby says rather calmly, despite the sputtering of his flames. 

“Yeah, good idea,” you agree. 

[sokkastyles]

firelxdykatara

Part of what is so incredibly frustrating about Aang’s arc in book 3 (or lack thereof) is the fact that his culture--despite being ostensibly wiped from the face of the planet, and we’ll set aside for the moment how little sense that makes in general, nevermind from a narrative standpoint--has hints of depth that are never explored. @inkmyname touched on it when pointing out that Aang is very selective about which parts of his own culture he interacts with and attempts to preserve

(which he cherrypicks several times over the course of the series, by the way…)

Because while it is absolutely true that AN culture is horrifically underdeveloped, part of that is because the single solitary living Air Nomad is never allowed to actually engage with, question, learn about, and understand his own culture. This is where Guru Pathik never appearing again after Aang leaves in book 2 (to ignore his own culture’s teachings and attempt to hold on to a selfish attachment he was told he would need to willingly give up in order to achieve true enlightenment and master the Avatar State, I might add) becomes a serious issue--because here was an actual, living, breathing adult with an adult’s understanding of an extinct culture, and he just... vanished from the narrative completely, the moment Aang decided that his feelings for Katara were more important than the adhering to the teachings of his people.

Which means that, yet again, what we were left with was a child’s very basic understanding of his own people. He could parrot aphorisms and wise proverbs he was taught by the monks, but he could exhibit no true understanding of them. He could maintain a vegetarian diet (at great strain to Katara, who had to make sure to cook things Aang would be willing to eat, despite having grown up in a climate where not eating meat would mean starving to death) and profess that he cherished all living creatures, but he could not examine when pacifism may not be the right choice--he could not acknowledge that even his precious monks would take lives if they had to. If other lives were on the line. (See: the fact that he never once seems to realize that Monk Gyatso’s corpse being surrounded by a bunch of skeletons in Fire Nation armor means that Monk Gyatso killed living breathing human beings in an attempt to defend his own people. I do not think he would have hesitated if an entire city-state were directly in the line of fire, no pun intended.)

If you took any twelve-year-old and froze them in a time capsule and woke them up a century later, they may be able to remember some proverbs, a verse or two from some religious text, a few general rules governing social behavior... but they would not be able to reconstruct their entire culture based only on their fallible childhood memories and a few recovered artifacts.

And it is explicit, in the text of the show, that Aang is perfectly willing to discard the teachings of his people when they conflict with something he wants. His people’s teachings say that he should release his attachment to the girl he likes--he evidently misinterprets this to mean he must forgo all connection to her (which is never so much as implied, and if the tenets of Buddhism were to actually be adhered to, giving up his attachment to her wouldn’t even mean that he couldn’t still love her and that a relationship would be out of the question if she loved him in return--merely that his selfish attachment to her needed to go, because he was not entitled to her feelings. this was a lesson he desperately needed to learn, rather than being rewarded for his selfish behavior by having Katara realize at the literal last second that oh, yeah, she really DID have feelings for him), and refuses on the grounds that... he wanted to date this girl who had never once shown romantic interest in him. Because that’s certainly worth throwing his own people’s teachings about spirituality and enlightenment right in the trash.

So the argument that killing Ozai would have killed the last remnants of his culture, and so he needed to find a pacifistic solution in order to preserve them, already doesn’t hold water--because Aang showed very little concern for preserving his people’s beliefs, or anyone else’s (he’s actually... pretty disrespectful of other cultural practices at numerous points in the show and is never really taken to task for it, by the narrative or any of the characters), at any other point in the show. And something that this particular segment of the fandom always loves to claim is that in saying that I’m saying that I wanted a kid to murk a dude on screen in a Y7 show--but that isn’t it at all. None of this is to say that Aang should have killed Ozai (although whether he was allowed to remain alive should have been up to a tribunal of EK and WT citizens, not just the Avatar, but that’s another discussion entirely)--but it is to say that Aang being able to take a third option was not handled well, either from a story perspective or a character one.

What we should have gotten--and what Book 3 seemed to be primed for--is a season long arc of Aang finally mastering the Avatar State and completing his character arc. The foundation was there, the potential beats were lined up, the earlier hints (such as an entire episode dedicated to showing both Aang and the audience that sometimes the object of your affections doesn’t like you back, and that’s ok, because if you love them you should want them to be happy, and if we just ignore the last twenty seconds that completely undermines the entire message [particularly in light of the epilogue] then we’re golden) there to provide some structure for the remainder of his arc.

Instead, what we wound up with were a bunch of useless filler episodes leading up to the failed invasion (which had some gems, like The Puppetmaster and Sokka’s Master, but when weighed against episodes like The Headband and Nightmares and Daydreams, it’s hard to say if they were worth the cost), and then Zuko’s journey into the gaang’s good graces crammed into the last few episodes before the finale. It isn’t until the episode before the finale that Aang even admits to anyone that he can’t enter the Avatar State, and it isn’t until the finale that this is actually ‘resolved’--by a pointy rock showing up at the exact right place to, i guess, jar his chakras loose. Because that’s how it works.

The result is a season that has some of the best single episodes in the series, while having the most disjointed plot, the worst pacing, and the least satisfying finale out of all three seasons. In HP fandom vernacular with which I remain intimately familiar, AtLA may have won the game, but season three absolutely did not catch the snitch. And I haven’t even gotten into the fact that Aang’s moral dilemma over needing to kill Ozai should have come up much earlier in the narrative--prior to the eclipse invasion at least, if not even sooner than that, but I still cannot fathom what Aang planned to do to the man if he actually got to him before the eclipse ended and he was powerless--because this post is already long enough.

The upshot of it all is, though, that Aang’s arc is deeply unsatisfying for a lot of people because it relies on contrivances in order for him to even survive the battle he was supposedly training the entire series for. And he was handed every victory he actually achieved, particularly in that final battle, rather than earning them via his own choices.

He didn’t choose to seek out the lionturtle--it kidnapped him. He didn’t choose to regain the Avatar State--he was thrown against a well-placed rock and it was reactivated automatically. (I know I frequently engage in percussive maintenance myself, but come on.) He did choose to ignore Katara’s words and body language and kiss her anyway--and he was then rewarded with a relationship without so much as apologizing to her for his actions. (And, notably, Katara was given no space on screen to work through her own feelings--it was just assumed that they were there, and she had them for Aang, and it was just a matter of him being persistent enough that she realized it. Which is very much not the message we should be sending the children to whom this show was aimed and marketed.)

I really can’t find anything in Aang’s arc, as presented in the show (rather than the idealized version a lot of Aang stans seem to have constructed for themselves), that is meant to be some sort of ‘ideal’, either from an irl perspective or from a story one. And it remains a constant source of frustration, because all the tools were there, all the potential was there--it’s just that none of it was ever realized by the narrative.

@firelxdykatara I want to reply to this in a different post because I don’t want to continue arguing on OP’s post anymore. The thing is that it does seem like there was an attempt made to build this conflict up, but it was just...forgotten. Which is especially weird when we talk about the parallels between Aang and Zuko, because there are several places where Aang’s internal struggle is paralleled with Zuko’s. And this is part of what makes Aang’s arc not hold up to Zuko’s, unfortunately.

One of the things that should have been explored about the Air Nomads is the fact that they actually did Aang quite badly by telling him that he was the Avatar too early, and that seemed like it was an important plot point and part of Aang’s internal struggle...until it wasn’t. A lot of people say that Aang’s desire to avoid conflict and be a kid is an Air Nomad trait, and it kinda is, but from what we saw in the flashback, we know that not all Air Nomads were like this, and Aang’s relationship with Gyatso - which I REALLY wanted to be explored more - was actually contrasted with the rigid ways of the other monks. We saw this in Aang and Gyatso playing pranks and in how Gyatso tried to shelter Aang and let him be a kid a little longer, which he should have been able to do. Aang ran away because the Air Nomads were trying to take him away from Gyatso! This is a pretty standard coming of age plot, growing up and realizing that not every adult is good and right all the time and has your best interests in mind (Zuko also learns this in his flashback, in much more violent way). And Aang was so angry and hurt and betrayed when he recounted it in “The Storm,” and it’s a direct parallel to the way Zuko’s father betrayed him. What happened to that? What happened to that anger? What happened to “how could they do that to me?!”

But there’s no follow up to this. I think they could have done more with the Guru Pathik character possibly in order to fix this, like maybe showing Aang being resistant to learning from him because of those lingering negative feelings. But then, Pathik himself is one of the weakest parts of the story, and is little more than a racist caricature. That’s part of the problem.

Similarly Aang trying to reconcile his unhealthy attachment to Katara and his love for Katara was part of his internal struggle...until it wasn’t. And once again it’s paralleled with Zuko’s arc. Like, the episode where that conflict is introduced, “The Avatar State,” is the same episode where Zuko chooses to go with Azula back to the Fire Nation and chooses his unhealthy attachment to his father instead of Iroh. This conflict runs through that season (again paralleling Zuko’s arc) and is brought up again in the finale for book 2, and the resolution is even hinted at:

Aang: Well, I met with this guru who was supposed to help me master the Avatar State and control this great power, but to do it, I had to let go of someone I love. And I just couldn't.

Iroh: Perfection and power are overrated. I think you were very wise to choose happiness and love.

Aang: What happens if we can't save anyone and beat Azula? Without the Avatar State, what if I'm not powerful enough?

Iroh: I don't know the answer. Sometimes, life is like this dark tunnel. You can't always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you just keep moving, you will come to a better place.

There we have it! Aang didn’t need to give up his love for Katara, nor did he need to exchange her for power. It’s a false dichotomy. The show is really good at setting up false dichotomies only to break them down in other places, but with the Avatar state arc they just...don’t quite manage it. It seems like they were trying to set it up, too, by paralleling Aang’s fall at Ba Sing Se with Zuko making the wrong choice, but there’s no follow-through.

Instead of Aang experiencing a conflict with his cultural identity, suddenly the Air Nomads become these idealized figures who are always right in book 3, primarily so he can lecture Katara and Zuko on the evils of revenge. If this is Aang trying to hold on to the last vestiges of his culture and not wanting to acknowledge how his last interaction with the monks was a negative one, the story needs to show that! THAT would be an interesting character conflict! But instead they drop that story entirely and make it about whether Aang is going to kill Ozai, because Aang is so good and wise and everybody else suddenly wants him to kill for some reason. Which of course he isn’t going to do, because it’s a nickelodeon show. It’s not just that the lionturtle is a deus ex machina, it’s that it’s a solution to a problem that never felt like a real problem and was put in place of actual real character conflict.

And although I’m not a huge fan of Kataang, this absolutely could have been done WITHOUT sacrificing Kataang. When the narrative suggested that he needed to give up Katara to become the Avatar, when Aang went into the Avatar state and said “I’m sorry, Katara,” I actually shouted NO at my screen. Because Aang should NOT have to give up love in order to become a hero, and that’s not what the Buddhist idea of getting rid of earthly attachments means, anyway. It means getting rid of unhealthy attachments, and as you said, that was shown in Aang’s behavior towards Katara. And it seemed like the writers were working towards Aang having a realization that his behavior towards Katara was unhealthy, that if he loved her he needed to actually have a real conversation with her about her feelings and give her space to say no (even if she says yes in the end), and that never happened.

There’s also a reason Iroh has this conversation with Aang in book 2. If we want an example of someone who has achieved a spiritual balance in their life, and given up earthly attachments in favor of living simply, Iroh is that character, and he’s a much better example than a westernized Guru caricature or a twelve year old spouting pithy aphorisms about revenge, because Iroh’s wisdom comes from experience. And Iroh’s advice is that sometimes life is like a dark tunnel, and that you need to go through the dark to get to the light. Iroh also admits that he doesn’t know the answer, because like all truly wise people, he is wise enough to know that he knows nothing. That’s why Aang having spiritual knowledge handed to him so that he can avoid having to make a decision feels like a cop-out. The show didn’t even tell us until the last second that what the knowledge was was energybending, because the writers KNEW it was a cop-out.

And the choice between power and love? Is not even made. Aang still gets to have a super special power bestowed upon him and beats Ozai because he learns how to bend energy, the most powerful and special form of bending of them all, guys. It’s actually super frustrating because the writers CAN resolve this in a meaningful way. They do it with Zuko, who also has super special powers bestowed upon him in the climax of the story, but in the end it’s not power, it’s his frienship with Katara and his willingness to sacrifice for her that saves him. Wasn’t Aang supposed to be making a similar choice about Katara? Hmmmmmmmm.

[electricbluebutterflies]

22 for Garcy?

This has been in the drafts for... years, probably, but here we are, I still love these two and I am emotionally messy enough to be writing them again. Usual ignore-the-ending / post-everything ‘verse, PG-ish, also on ao3.

“It’s not heavy.  I’m stronger than I look.”

Technically speaking, Lucy has never had a domestic arrangement.

Sure, the years spent with the team have to count forsomething, but that was both involuntary and didn’t involve a consistent romanticelement until close to the end. Could’ve happened sooner, and she got to spendsix months trying to convince everyone else in her life that it wasn’t,but… even then, it was different. Doesn’t really count as living with a partnerif what you’re actually doing is hiding in their spaces and occasionallyaccepting affection.

But it’s over now, and they won, and now she gets to see ifthere are any actual skeletons in her mother’s house (there’s already speculationand possibly a betting pool in the group chat about what weird things she’sgoing to find), and she is not doing that alone.

There is a certain irony in this, in dragging home a partnerwho is almost everything she was probably taught to avoid but wasn’t perceptiveenough to be aware of. Flynn is older than her by just enough to matter even withher comfortably in her mid-thirties, has been through brutal hell and does notsee a point in pretending otherwise, only charming when he wants something, andthen there’s the whole physical structure of him to deal with. The man isdefinitely someone else’s nightmare come to life, and sometimes Lucy thinksthat might be part of the appeal, the romantic cliché of trying to tame thedangerous a little.

Not that she’s done any taming so much as made sure she’shis favorite person, but y’know. Details.

Point is, she needs to clean out the house and sell anythingof value before trying to get rid of the house itself – the curse of being theclosest surviving family member, and no she does not know how everything stayeduntouched for a year and a half but there are questions Lucy does not ask inthis life – and having the assistance of someone more physically capable thanshe is might be an asset for moving hundred-odd-year-old furniture. At least,that was how she phrased it when suggesting the idea last week when plans werebeing laid and it became apparent he had none. At the time, their hesitantromantic involvement wasn’t even worth mentioning as a reason he should go withher.

It’s not… it’s not like anything else she’s ever done, sheknows that. There have been really good kisses but not more than that becausethin walls and caution and uncertainty if her IUD has expired, and a warmprotectiveness to it, and she’s not sure where they go from there. She wasn’tsleeping alone once they came back here and he followed her upstairs withoutquestions, but they haven’t turned in new directions and if they end up justbeing rather tactile roommates she could live with that. She’s not going topush through that tangle of unresolved issues.

But right now, as she paces the formal dining room shethinks her mother may have used twice in her lifetime and her partnerleans against the wall and watches her, she wants more. And isn’t that alwayswhere it goes to hell. If there’s one thing Lucy has learned from the nearly-three-yeardetour her life took, it is that she should not want things because the momentshe realizes she does is the moment it goes horribly wrong. She should not wantthis other person, even with his near-feral sense of loyalty, to break her patterns.She should not want to keep him. It will end badly, she is sure.

“Would it make you feel better to break any of that?” Flynnasks, breaking silence and gesturing towards the decorative china cabinet.

“Worth too much,” Lucy shrugs. “Wouldn’t help anything.”

The problem with this whole cleanout project is there is noeasy place to start. Taking on the more public parts of the house first makessense because she’s less likely to find anything odd down here but thatdoesn’t mean she won’t, and that just builds a sense of dread as she works herway up the spiral. Today is the first day they’re even trying; the previousthree days have been an attempt at reacclimating to a quieter life, completewith a near-traumatic trip to a supermarket. Perhaps this self-isolation isn’ta great idea for their respective personalities, but…

“What about that statue? What is that?”

Lucy glances at said statue, and honestly hell if she knows.It looks vaguely Greek but probably isn’t, and she is reminded that she doesget her lack of consistent aesthetic sensibilities from that side of thefamily, and… screw it, might as well find out what it is. She takes a few stepsover and tries to lift the thing, and-

“Don’t… let me do that.”

Oh she should’ve known this would activate her partner’sinstincts. Damn him.

“It’s not heavy,” she points out. “I’m stronger than I look,and… I think this may have actually been intended as a lawn ornament.” And nota good quality one either, to the extent Lucy feels capable of judging suchthings. Suspiciously lightweight and might break if she dropped it, which shehas no plan to do but-

“Do we want to keep it?”

She sets the object down and looks at it as if she evencares. “Not really?”

“Is there anything in this room you do like?”

“No?” She feels scared to say that out loud, like she’s temptingghosts to come out of the walls. “I don’t… I don’t know what we even need. But allof this can go.”

“Alright.”

They’re both quiet for a few moments, standing there closebut not touching and uncertain. Being able to make so many choices in successionis honestly terrifying, Lucy is realizing, and she’s not sure she likesthe control. See, this is why she couldn’t do this project on her own, becausenothing would ever get done. Even with help she’s not sure they’ll getanywhere, but-

“There are boxes out in the front hallway, if you could getthose for me?”

And then she is alone, and she can’t remember the last timethat happened. Even if only for a minute, it feels wrong. She’s gottentoo used to living on top of other people, the chaos of it all, becoming somekind of family because that was the only way forward. Now she could go dayswithout seeing another human being, if she wanted. She gets to choose that too,and she’s not sure-

A hand on her shoulder brings her out of her spiral, tetheringher as always. She isn’t alone, not in any way that counts. The two damagedones clinging together like they did on the bad nights when she was in theworst of her unraveling and he was quiet and kind like she should’ve seenbefore she made her mistakes and-

“We don’t have to do this all at once,” he murmurs. “Or atany speed.”

“I have nothing else,” she counters. “And you’re…”

“Here with you,” he says before she can come up with somemore bitey phrase. “As long as you’ll let me be.”

She breaks.

See, the thing is, Lucy had always expected to do thisproject alone. When she’d been younger and oblivious to the amount of evilweirdness her bloodline was tangled up in, she’d assumed the timing would be alittle different, but she knew the score. She was the good responsible daughter,the one who would get the short straw when something happened. And as she’d gottenolder, and made consistently questionable romantic choices none of which lookedlike a future…

The reality of the situation as it has actually happened,the fact that she does have someone on her side, is too much to acceptright now.

She lets herself be held because words are not going tohappen right now, lets him pet her hair and be a comfort because she is notsure what else to do. How does one tell a partner, a potential-but-not-quitelover, that there was never any plan for this part? That she, prone toover-planning as an anxiety workaround, never thought she’d bring anyone hometo deal with this particular curse of eldest daughters? She’s not sure she can.She’s not sure she can avoid it either.

“I’ll deal with it,” he says after a while. “If that’seasier. Take everything to that antique dealer you were mentioning and-“

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking. I’m volunteering.”

Lucy takes a moment to envision how that would go down, Flynn’shistorically unpredictable people skills meeting the nightmarish world ofpretentious assholes who try to under-pay for antique furniture. It sounds likea disaster waiting to happen at best.

“I’ll let you maneuver everything into the truck,” shecounters. “But I’m doing the talking when we get there.”

“They’ll try to take advantage of you.”

“I’m not leaving you outside like a dog I’m just… notletting you threaten anyone you don’t have to.”

He hums low against her body, contemplating. “I can livewith that.”

“Good because I’m not giving you a choice here.”

He brushes his lips against her forehead, and for a momentshe can believe they’ll get through this intact. “Whatever you want.”

[the-river-person]

Monster History in the Librarby

Niven was getting ready to close the Library for the night. All the usual patrons had gone home already. Both of the editors for the Snowdin Newspaper, as well as the Loox that often hung around by the tables and played word games like crosswords, junior jumble, or soduku. Speaking of which, Lady Garf, one of the editors of the newspaper who specialized in making games for it, had left a few of the ones she’d been working on. With a sigh he collected the pages and stored them behind the main desk, he’d have to remember to give it to her tomorrow. The bell on the door tinkled and Niven looked up to say that they were actually just about to close. But the words died on his lips and he stared at the person who had come in. Face hidden by a dark cloak, they were somewhat tall, nearly reaching the height of Sir Papyrus, captain of the Royal Guard. Though he couldn’t see their face, he caught a glimpse of white fur. Was it Ice Wolf? Just a little over a year ago he’d started coming in every few months to check out books to read during his work breaks. No, Ice Wolf was much bigger. “Is this the Librarby?” Asked the figure, a male voice, deep yet not unpleasant, almost musical really. Niven grimaced at the question. He’d once harbored hopes of getting the sign repainted. But there really wasn’t any point now, was there? Not only had everybody just gotten used to it, but even if he did repaint it, the sign would just reset along with everything else in a few short weeks. It wasn’t worth the effort, but it still irritated him. Forcing himself to smile he quickly decided just to see what this Monster wanted before closing up. “Yes, it is. We don’t usually see too many non-locals in here. Most just pass by on their way to the ruins or the Greater Snowdin Caverns. Are you from the Capital?” “You could say that,” said the figure, sounding mildly amused. They offered no further explanation, and Niven decided not to push his luck further that way. “What can I do for you?” For a moment the Monster was silent, looking round the small library as if gauging its potential somehow. Not for the first time, Niven wished for the resources to make a much grander library, something akin to the great libraries he’d read of in human books: Ashurbanipal, Alexandria, Pergamum, Villa of the Papyri, Trajan’s Dual Library, Celsus, the Imperial Library of Constantinople, House of Wisdom in Baghdad, "Dharmaganja" ("Treasury of Truth") and Dharma Ghunj ("Mountain of Truth") in India’s Nalanda University. There were so many, and all he had was a few shelves. A couple histories, fiction, somone’s book report left here years ago and never retrieved (it was gleefully shelved as something new and at least 3 people had checked it out since for the sheer novelty), poetry, only a single science book about astronomy, and an entire shelf devoted to joke books and word games. But if someone was really coming out here, far from the Capital, to look for something specific. Well... They had to be desperate. New Home’s public library was much bigger, and if you couldn’t find something, you might humbly petition the King and Queen for access to the castle archives in the chance it might be there. Nobody came to a tiny town at the edge of civilization. Well... they did come. Sometimes they even bought things at the general store or stayed a the inn. But that was really just people on their way to the Ruins after Reset Day, the crowds and the general traffic as Monsters carried out their plans for the next three weeks. Getting puzzles ready for the famous DT and Royal Guardsman Monster Kid, who lived right here in said small town. So some people came through, a lot of people. But not for books. Never for the librarby that hadn’t even spell its name right when the sign was painted. “I’m hoping,” said the Monster. “That you might have texts on Monster History from before the war. History, perhaps theology? Mythology and folklore? I’ll take anything you’ve got.” Oh, so that’s what he wanted. Niven gulped. Okay so maybe it wasn’t accurate that nobody had been coming to their tiny library from out of town. There was that person from the capital he’d only seen once, a shifty fellow who was supposed to be a castle servant. White hair, pale purplish skin, and a terrifying grin with sharp yellow teeth. Niven had been freaked out by the Monster’s weird face markings and the J like tail that had lashed back and forth in agitation. Jevil, or so he had said his name was, had been after books on Monster Religion. It was a surprising subject, one few cared about. But Niven had a couple of rare tomes on it, possibly texts even the Royal Archives didn’t have. And that, it turned out, was the entire point. Jevil was a scribe in the Royal Archives and kept the smaller of the castle’s two libraries in good order for the King and Queen’s more general use. Thankfully he hadn’t come again after the first time, having taken a stack of books with him. He sent them back a month later, along with a few coins for the late fees, and asked for more books, naming each specifically. So Niven had shipped them off to the Capital, and sure enough they returned the next month with a request for more books. Sans the skeleton had become a familiar face as he came by so often to pick up or deliver boxes of books headed for the weird little Monster. And Jevil wasn’t the only one. Ice Wolf had been checking out the weirdest things. Niven would have expected a joke book, or even an interesting novel, but no. Ice Wolf wanted to read about physics and geology and historical documents and traditions. Niven hadn’t had much cause to write to the Capital Public Library in... well ever really. But to get some of the texts Ice Wolf wanted he pulled up his sleeves and penned message after message requesting various books until someone came down about nine weeks in to ask why on earth there was suddenly more book traffic going to Snowdin. “Oh, heh heh.” He laughed nervously. “I believe we do have some things. If you’ll come this way please.” The Monster followed him into the lower levels of the library, a section which held most of the least circulated books and materials available only by request. He really needed to dust down here, now where was the light? Ah yes. A dim bulb flickered to life, bathing the shelves in a warming and distinctly yellow light. From the shelves he pulled book after book, most dusty, a few with a little water damage, and many quite old. These he stacked before the Monster, who shifted in surprise as he looked over the growing pile. As Niven set another book on the pile he caught a better glimpse of the face beneath the hood. A white furred goat-like face with black markings on his lower cheeks and eyes of a dark muted red. Niven almost dropped the books in surprise but hid his reaction by faking a sneeze, though maybe with all the dust in here it really wasn’t that fake. This was a Boss Monster! But not Asgore, not nearly tall enough and certainly much thinner. But not the motherly Toriel either. It didn’t make sense, all the other Boss Monsters had been killed in the war, only the King and Queen had made it Underground with the others. And the only other Boss Monster living since then had been... Hadn’t Asriel Dreemurr become a flower? How had he regained his body? Or... something similar. It wasn’t quite a child anymore, though not yet an adult. Somewhere in between if appearance was anything to go by. A teenager maybe. That didn’t make sense either as his age should have been tied to Asgore and Toriel’s, and none of them could age anyway with the Resets, but maybe being a flower did odd things to you. Niven watched out of the corner of his eye as the prince began flipping through some of the books. “Monsters and Humans have always dwelt together in the world, though the nature of this coexistence had been woven together with myth, legend, and superstition for thousands of years.” Asriel read the passage from a “Brief History of Monsters and Humans”, it was volume nine of the collection, which was anything but brief. The author had been criticized for his long winded and needlessly flowery language. Still it made for good reading, if you had the time for it. “Owing to the nature of Monster’s Souls and the intrinsic connection their magical bodies have to the state of their soul, Humans were often under the mistaken impression that the Monster Clans were more numerous than they really were. As new generations of Monsters were born, they sometimes took on new and often unique forms different from their elders, forms that matched the state of their very soul.” The Prince broke off reading and looked up at Niven, who suddenly realized he’d stopped taking books off the shelves and had been staring as he listened. Flushing, the Lizard started to turn back to the shelf. “Is that why some of the Monsters around are things like Aeroplanes or shaped like bathtubs and obsessed with washing? Because they were born with new forms?” Niven turned back around. It was a good question, and not really covered that well in schools. Sure they touched on the subject, but no one really focused on the implications of how Monster Souls behaved. “Well, more or less. You have to understand that Monsters such as the Tsundereplane couldn’t have been born until Monsters learned of the existence of human airplanes. And anime of course. Then when this new Monster was born, their soul manifested a body that fit who they were at their foundations, the most basic structure of all the things they could become. We Monsters don’t have much control over this, we can’t shift our own forms at will, but our appearance is far more closely tied to who we are than you would think. Creatures like Woshua were born of groups of water dwelling Monsters. Humans often characterized us with names like Fay or Fairy, Spirits, Daemons, and lots of other things. And human folklore has a lot of tales about faeries who insist upon cleanliness and washing, often enacting terrible punishment if specified arrangements weren’t kept, like leaving washing water out at night for them to bathe in, or having a strict routine of personal hygiene while living in an area where said fairy has to deal with you often. Sound familiar? At some point the bathtub must have been an image they focused on, and at some point a Monster child was born with that form as part of who they were.” Asriel nodded, forgetting that he was trying to hide his face and letting the hood slip down a bit as he listened with wide eyes. Just barely visible in the upper shadows of the hood were his horns, not terribly big, just poking up from the white tufts of fur. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll take this one. And these.” He plucked another four books from the pile. “Can you hold the rest for me?” Niven found himself agreeing to do just that as he followed Asriel back up the stairs and let him out. As he locked up and turned out the lights, he wondered why nobody had heard anything about the prince yet if he was back to his true self?

[bvccy]

how did you plan NtD?

I'm decided to write something long and solid (??) right now and I could use some advice 😬 if you have any

Gah I'm not sure if I have any advice, really 😳 The best thing to do, really, is just to plan it. Like, this is how it starts, this is how it ends, and for it to end this way, in the middle I must have x, y, and z.

1.) Write down a skeleton if you can, in chronological order. If you're like me, as you write it you will find new needs ("this needs to happen, oh and this needs to happen as well") and you can also play around with that ("how about I put some foreshadowing 10 chapters in advance haha for fun").

This is how, for example, the lunch scene at The Salt Plate happened:

Would Bucky, realistically, stick with the fake SHIELD-bought wedding rings for their real wedding? No, he'd get personal ones.

So how do I write that in? Can't just have him pull the rings out of nowhere, can I? Solution: introduce a jewellery store.

Where could we see that first? How about a dinner scene to present some Dochian cuisine, give a shout out to some true and quite crazy European dishes like cock testicle stew and Italian cibero, and the Romanian sarmale and Greek dolmades which is cute and humanises the side-characters, and THEN they have a walk and I can give a nod to Bucky having read The Hobbit as introduced in TFATWS, AND mention a jewellery store too.

I was about 6 chapters ahead when I thought to introduce that scene, so I went back and wrote it in, even if the chapter it was in was already finished. If I were a smart girl, I'd have done it from the start.

So yeah, figure out what you want to happen, and the needs of the scenes present themselves.

2.) I spent a lot of time daydreaming, like just sitting in bed and picturing the scenes of the story one by one. Sometimes, I'd think of specific dialogue too, and at those times in particular I stopped and wrote them down (there are definitely some bits I didn't write down, and of course those are forgotten completely, so always be ready to take notes).

So yeah, daydream a lot, picture it all in your head as a movie, always take notes.

3.) Decide what, if anything, you want to pay a homage to. This will serve as your point of reference, like points of gravity in the story that scenes will revolve around.

For example, I knew I wanted to create an atmosphere of continental Europe, so what does that mean? Beautiful, old, slightly worn-down buildings, big old trees, flocks of nuns, Church bells ringing in the morning, those little porcelain statuettes old ladies always have around the house, great food but also weird food, all of the pastries, fancy alcohol.

And I wanted to present the sort of people I've met, and how I've met them: some old, some young, some thin, some fat, cheerful or generally sad, with whatever aches or illnesses they have in their old age, just present them as human and as valuable as anyone younger or prettier or whatever, and always a joy to be around.

So as I knew I wanted to have these types of things/characters as decorations of the story, I needed to create scenes in which they are presented.

I also wanted to talk about certain topics like, reader and Bucky's sense of worthlessness and their (resulting) reluctance to have children. So how do you present that? You have a dialogue in which, one way or another, reader has to mention it, which pushes Bucky to disagree with her because he sees her as wonderful, which makes him re-think the way he thinks about himself. As an aide for this change in Bucky, I also mentioned the bit in the Church where he saw a young family with a baby and got envious.

I wanted to give Hamelin some scenes where he is also humanised, to emphasise the grey-ness of so-called evil characters. So I put in that scene at the bar, where he comforts reader after she's upset with Bucky (why is she upset? a scene is created as a result), and also their dialogue in the garden (why is she in the garden? again, the need creates the scene).

Now, I'm giving this "vague" sort of advice because what I have found to be most helpful is to start from the end. Start from where you want to get, and see how you get there - because you can get there in a lot of ways. You can have a scene, you can have a dialogue, it's up to you.

4.) Write, then re-write, and re-re-write. As there are several ways to resolve your issue of "how do I show the thing I want to show", and as you have the (smart) idea of writing before you start to post, you have all the time in the world to experiment with how you tell your story. So don't be afraid to write something, only to delete it completely. Don't be afraid to write a scene then notice it doesn't fit there, and move it somewhere else.

As an example: those few paragraphs where Bucky was thinking "She was dull and tender by comparison, a little sensitive and a bit sad, etc.", those whole like 3 or 4 paragraphs of his thinking about her are in Chapter 12, but they were originally in Chapter 5 when he woke up after their first night in the hotel. They were in Ch. 5 for two whole months, but I eventually decided his opinions were too complex for how little he'd known her, so I moved them and did some re-writing to fit everything because both those respective chapters were completed by then.

There are some scenes, I wrote them and decided they were stupid, so I deleted them. I guess I just needed to write them to get them out of my system, and move on.

5.) Do whatever research you need to do for the story, or just use things you know are cool.

For example, there are some videos from a lockpicking YT channel that I found inspirational (they are referenced in the notes on AO3, but I'm talking about this and this and this). I don't remember exactly if I first saw these before I started writing or shortly after, but in any case, it was around the beginning, and I was like "man, I really want to have a scene where I use this", so I created some lock-picking scenes that did that, and also served as scenes of bonding between reader and Bucky. There were lots of other videos I've seen from that channel (it's a great channel) but these are some that fit in the story.

There was also a news article I saw at some point with those breast pastries (also referenced in the respective chapter on AO3), and I wanted to have a scene to show that too, so I created the one at The Fountainsoul 😂 Some scenes, for sure, could fit almost anywhere. Like, I could've introduced the minnuzzi while they were on the cruise and married, but figured the earlier scenes needed a bit more meat.

So whether you do your research around the sort of scene or story you want to tell after you know what story you want to tell, or whether you know some cool or weird facts you want to reference, that can also help you built up the structure of the story, and provide that skeleton of scenes I mentioned.

I know this advice is kind of lousy 😖 You ask me "how do you plan?" and I say "lol just plan". But this is as well as I can put it into words, at least what I used to write, and what I'm still using.

tl;dr: decide what you want to write, and it helps you figure out how to get there and what you need to write

I hope it can help you, my dear! If you need any other help or just to bounce ideas off me, let me know 💗 I will be here for you.

[cynthiaandsamus]

Custom Toonami Block Week 73 Rundown

Code Geass: Lelouch and co. are still stuck in China and Xingke’s flipping out because the Chinese assholes are gonna kill the Empress and go with someone less problematic for their political marriage to Britannia’s creepily overaged prince. However Lelouch pulls out a Knightmare that’s basically the Twink version of the Gawain and busts everyone up as well as pulling a Father Cornello on them and letting the people know they’re all elitst 1% assholes that don’t care about them, which I suspect all countries probably know about their leaders but it sucks to hear it in a recording so riots show up all over China and CC Geass Flashes Anya to take her out so Britannia has to back out because the Chinese Hierarchy are now the least popular people in the world. So Xingke gets to be with his Empress and joins the Black Knights but Dietard wants the Empress to marry someone on their side so they can basically do the asshole move Britannia just tried to do but for them. All the girls are like ‘hey no’ and Lelouch is like “Oh hey Tamaki buddy, let’s go talk and get me the fuck out of here” so before Lelouch actually has to give Tamaki more lines and elevate him beyond the Black Knight’s Yamacha Shirley calls and Lelouch just straight up asks Shirley about love in a weirdly forced series of circumstance. But Shirley’s like “Yeah don’t fuck with love, don’t you love anyone?” and Lelouch is like “Yeah I do, Nunally!” and I don’t think that’s at all what Shirley meant but it does mean Lelouch sees that fighting for something beyond politics is powerful and agrees to not marry off the twelve year old girl, so that’s good. Lelouch decides to return home while they hunt down the Geass cult which is in China for some reason despite that being one of the like two places on earth Britannia doesn’t control and the Geass Cult largely being a Britannian affair. Meanwhile Sayoko is basically a Lelouch Vtuber at this point with her insanely accurate Lupin III mask of Lelouch and kisses Shirley so Shirley’s a little bit more gay than she was before and is not sure how to feel about that. When she’s about to tell the real Lelouch he kisses like a girl, Anya and Gino show up because we’re retreading the whole ‘sleeping with the enemy at school’ thing from the first season except with way less interesting enemies. Also the preview for the next episode is Lelouch dramatically talking about enemies finding out he’s Zero overtop footage of Shirley and Milly absolutely naked in a batthouse scene so I think we know what kind of episode that’ll be.

Inuyasha: The Panther Demon filler concludes with everyone meeting at the site where the Panther Master is being revived behind a strong barrier, if only someone just got a barrier upgrade to their sword, oh wait. But yeah everyone manages to free the hostages so even though Kagome’s jewel shards revives the Panther Master he’s still a zombie without a sacrifice which is weird since Naraku managed to completely revive the Band of Seven with one jewel shard each from skeletons and the Panther Lord has three shards so idk the rules here but yeah he steals the souls of his own men to revive and is Wind Scar Proof because he just is. It’s pretty cool to see him shooting his claws and lightning and shit but he’s too big and slow for it to be much of an interesting fight. Sesshomaru’s about to go full demon which would be interesting since we haven’t seen his full demon form since he lost his arm but in a neat bit of character development, Tenseiga calms his rage and tells him to use it instead. You get the feeling Sesshomaru only goes full demon when he flies off the handle and forgets about speed and strategy so him opting to not repeat the mistake he made against Inuyasha is pretty cool. Anyway Tenseiga heals the souls of the Panther Demons and drains their energy from the lord so he’s back to Zombie Cat Man which Inuyasha can Wind Scar because that’s what happens to villains on this show, all Wind Scars all the time. The Panthers don’t wanna fight anymore since their boss just killed them and tell Inuyasha to tell Sesshomaru the feud is over and they’re going back to the West. Honestly this is basically the same backstory they gave Kirinmaru in Yashahime so it’s funny for them to say they’re going back to the same place Kirinmaru is from, wonder if it’ll ever come up in Yashahime since most filler seems canon there.

Yu Yu Hakusho: Yusuke and Kuwabara continue the assault on Tarukane’s compound and basically plow through the lower demons easy since they’ve been fighting minor deities up to this point. It’s always pretty cool in Shonen to just have a few rounds to show how much power creep the heroes have had where certain things just don’t bother them anymore. Toguro murders a Chimera which has an oddly similar backstory to Nina from FMA and he seems really bummed about it but he’s like “Hey we’re both monsters made by humans telling us to do shit, so sorry for killing you bro”. And Tarukane basically sees Toguro is the next boss and is like “Yup time to scam some people off of this” and he sets up a betting ring for how far Yusuke and Co will get into his compound. This is kinda neat because it puts Tarukane in the weird position of betting against his own guards and hoping Yusuke will make it all the way to Toguro and then lose after everyone else has seen how awesome Yusuke is and bets on him. And funnily enough Sakyo’s in on the betting and he’s watched anime before so he knows to bet on the plucky teenagers with weird powers. So yeah Yusuke and Kuwabara finish plowing through the demons while Hiei kinda stalks them and remembers getting his eye surgery and wanting to help his sister but it’s kind of against spirit world rules for demons to just go plow through humans even if they’re scumbag humans so now Yusuke and Kuwabara have to go fight the Triad of boss demons Toguro has under him before Hiei busts in and just murders everyone for kidnapping his bird-loving jewel-crying little flower of a sister.

Fate Zero: So Kiritsugu can break Kayneth’s Terminator 2 Gaara defenses with rib bullets that just say ‘no’ to using magic and fucks his arrogant ass up. Saber and Lancer do some combo shenanigans to stab Caster right in the book and disrupt all his hentai tentacle demons but the book heals so idk why he can’t just make more. Kirei fucks up Maiya and Iris but didn’t double tap Maiya and DID double tap iris but she’s got Saber’s bullshit healing scabbard on her which no one knows about so Saber’s like “uhhh why are you healing” and Iris can’t tell her so she’s basically “Uhh internet?” Lancer comes in to save Kayneth’s worthless ass and tells Kiritsugu to stop being a dick to Saber because she’s pretty dope. But as usual for an early Fate encounter, no one dies and nothing of terrible consequence happens despite it being teased a couple times. I’ve noticed a trend with Fate that it really doesn’t like killing characters early so you’re basically guaranteed to have the first 2-3 major battles have a zero net gain/loss. Rider in UBW was probably the subversion to that since it happened crazy fast and anticlimactic but even that wasn’t till like ten episodes in.

Konosuba: So we finally meet Wiz the big booby Lich and Kazuma learns a new skill, both fun things. Also the gang gets a house to stay in after escapades with an army of haunted dolls and the most “I need to pee” in a horror setting since Corpse Party. But yeah, good progress this time honestly, the living in a stable gag was getting kind of old so Kazuma’s a bit stronger now and they have a home base so that’s pretty cool. Also Wiz is a Demon General or some shit but no one cares cause there ain’t no money in murdering busty zombie waifus.

Sailor Moon Crystal: So turns out Minako is Princess Serenity, except everyone who knows anything about Sailor Moon or indeed plot structure knows Sailor Moon is Princess Serenity, that’s like the Luke I Am Your Father of this series. But still turns out Minako has been guiding everyone with the power of video games but also thinks the power of friendship sucks and she’s gotta go do everything alone. This makes things super awkward because Mamoru’s pretty sure he was in love with the Princess but likes Usagi, now instead of running with this interesting thread of a reincarnation falling in love with someone new we’re gonna do the reveal that Usagi’s the princess and the whole ‘till death do us part’ part of marriage was just a metaphor and you’re stuck with one person no matter how many times you reincarnate. But yeah, Minako fights the bad guy on top of the tower but he has Naraku’s Barrier now and Minako doesn’t have the Red Tessaiga upgrade yet so she needs the power of friendship but this barrier is friendship-proof and this fight is basically a bunch of kids on the playground making up increasingly stupid powers that negate the other powers the other guy just made up. Anyway Tuxedo Mask shows up and is like “Holy shit Sailor Moon I love when you kiss me and kick ass, go get em sweetie I’ll hold your flower” and they kiss and Usagi has learned that if she just pretends she got this the power of her confidence will beat the bad guy. Unfortunately she does not got this and Tuxedo Mask has to pull a Piccolo and throw himself in front of the blast.

Durarara!!:  So now that we’ve had our climax for the arc we have a six month timeskip and everyone’s just kinda living life, Mika and Seiji are being clinically insane together, there’s cops harassing Celty to the point of mental breakdown (normal cop stuff) Shinra’s dad’s in town, Namie’s become Izaya’s secretary for blackmail shit, you know, normal stuff. Also there’s a katana-wielding maniac going around slashing people and Anri’s being bullied and sexually harassed to the point of mental collapse, normal stuff.

[rmjagonshi]

Marron/Tekka-la

From my alternate timeline. Here are my finalized notes on Marron/Tekka. I am unsure if I want to keep her human name, as Maron (Krillin’s girlfriend) is canon in this timeline as the Garlic Jr. Saga is canon. So I’m thinking of changing her name.

Birthed unexpectedly on 769 June 6th from an exchange of genetic material. She possesses both human and namekian genetics.

Physical Description: Marron is a namek in basic outward appearance. She has green skin and pink and red armor plates, though hers are more yellow pink. He has antenna and pointed ears, though they are not as large as Piccolo's. She had violet eyes and a small button nose. She has a full digestive track, though simple and less refined as humans. Her small intestine is much shorter and large intestine much longer. She is physically female in that she possesses both internal and external female reproductive features. If she were to give birth, she would develop an egg casing that she would then give birth to. She has vestigial breasts where fat has formed, but nothing else. She has minimal ridging along her arms and legs unlike Piccolo; her skin is relatively smooth. She has wiry black hair, much like Krillin, that she braids as it grows longer. Long fingers and toes, but she has five of each whereas Piccolo only has four.

Physical Abilities: Minor regeneration. She can't regrow full limbs without help, but she can heal wounds easily. She can't stretch her limbs much. As her skeletal structure is rigid instead of flexible. (see notes) She is double jointed. She has the ability to eat without any problems. She does have to eat minimal amounts, however she can survive on mostly water and a single bowl of rice. She does eat socially. She, being both human and namek, is a half-way merger between dragon clan and warrior clan. She can fight and possesses combat capabilities, but her raw power is lacking. She can heal and create some objects from natural material. She cannot create Dragon Balls, but she can heal and manipulate existing ones under Dende's teachings. She learns how to cultivate and grow senzu beans, much to Korin's chagrin. JOKE ABILITIES. Since Akira Torieama said that Krillin can breathe through his skin, Marron might be able to breathe under water through a similar process as long as the water is not polluted.  

Power Level: She has wide potential, but lacks raw power. She can, under great stress, tap into her magical abilities to enhance her physical strength, but cannot freely control it. She is able to keep up with Trunks and Goten until they hit SSJ. She has more stamina and ki than most, and uses that to wear down her opponent rather than over power them. At her peak adult power, she can rival the power of a SSJ or around Goku's level at the end of the Cell Games.  

Relationships: She looks up to Gohan as a big brother, and later Pan as a niece. She is good friends with Trunks and Goten, and later Bulla. She affectionately calls Chi-Chi 'auntie' and only gets away with it because Chi-Chi always wanted a daughter. She has a running joke with Vegeta where he claims "Oh, it's the half-slug. It's weird." And she responds with "You're weird." and he doesn’t have a response for it so he ignores it. She trains under Dende to be a healer and future/co guardian of Earth. She is one of the few people who fully understand her Papa Piccolo and his very nuanced moods and facial expressions. Something Gohan can also do with some concentration. She translates for people, including her Dad Krillin who has difficulty with it. She is the unofficial third Son child as Piccolo and Krillin seek Chi-Chi's help in the earlier days. When she meets Goku, he takes it well, if a bit confused. She has a similar relationship with Goku as Trunks does; she has heard so much about him but does not know him that well. Though he does dote on her like a niece. As they age, (teenager/young adult - 15-20) she develops a crush on Bulla.

Temperament: She inherited the best from both Piccolo and Krillin. She is sweet and kind and has a bit of a problem worrying about everyone else. She is obsessed with fairness and treating people nicely. She struggles when people are mean to her, but is quick to forgive. As she gets older, she understands nuance and can take people being mean more often. She develops a dry and deadpan sense of humor and is often able to make her Papa Piccolo laugh, where others can't. She is slow to anger, but is prone to blind rages when pushed. She is a bit oblivious and hyper focused. She is carefree and kind of awkward like Krillin. She has difficulty understanding her place and identity because she is so unique. Unlike Gohan, who is a half-breed of two similar races. Marron/Tekka is not, and struggles to combined both her lineages as they are so different. She isn’t a full namek, but she sure isn’t human either. But she has a huge family that loves her. It is unknown if she finds a partner and of what race or sex. Though as stated above - she does develop feelings for Bulla.    

Clothes: She wears for much of her childhood an outfit similar to the one young Piccolo wore, however it is a combination of pastel blue and purple. It has a demon symbol on the front and a turtle symbol on the back. She wears a cap to cover her antenna as an infant, but takes to wearing a headband or tuban as she gets older. She does not wear either when she is around family or friends as she doesn’t like the feel. As she gets older, she wears a gi like her parents that's yellow and blue-grey. Shoes are always like Piccolo's. She sometimes wears a turtle shell like Goku and Krillin did while training under Roshi. She gets called "Turtle Snail" or just "Snail" and she loathes it.

Early life: She has a rough go of it for the first three years, because her body is battling the two different growth rates and her organs are somewhat redundant and conflicting. She needs to eat, but not in large amounts. And certain foods make her sick (like allergy or celiac disease). She has to wear a brace for her legs for the first year, since Namek's have a flexible skeletal structure, but humans don’t. She eventually grows denser bones thanks to some medicine Bulma and a college hash together. By the time she's five, when Goku comes back to life for one day, she's about as grown as a human 10 year old. She's about as tall as Goten and Trunks, and has a has a mal-formed nose. It's there and functions, but she's missing the cartilage as it ossified and broke off in her toddler stage due to the serum she took to strengthen her skeleton. She's got a bit of a bump like Krillin, but does have nostrils from surgery.

[thefloatingstone]

We’ve gone from Self-Isolation to Quarantine and in some places to gradual relaxation phases, but that doesn’t stop the need for more nonsense you can watch on youtube while you wait for things to get back to normal. And recommending things and making lists are some of my favourite things to do but I have not yet figured out how to start or structure a video myself, you guys get another rambling tumblr post of things you can watch on youtube.

This time I’m once again just gonna recommend individual videos rather than full channels like I did in part 2.

Part 1

Part 2

In no particular order; 

LOCAL58: The Broadcast Station that Manipulates You

I recently started watching the Nexpo channel when I went on a binge of creepy youtube videos. Most of his videos are really good although the ones where he himself goes into theory crafting can be a little asinine. However, this video is REALLY good. And before you get nervous, LOCAL58 is not a real TV station. LOCAL58 is a youtube channel created by the same guy behind the Candle Cove creepypasta. This video by Nexpo covers the various episodes of LOCAL58 and discusses them. Just be aware going in that this is abstract horror, and will probably get under your skin regardless if you’re unaffected by certain topics or not. although cw for suicide mention.

I also recommend most of the rest of this channel, although be careful where you tread. I don’t recommend his series “Disturbing things from around the internet” as it can sometimes include real life crime, abuse and such caught on security cameras. Everything else is really good tho. (although I was really annoyed by his 2 videos on KrainaGrzybowTV)

The Search for D.B. Cooper

LEMMiNO has a new video out covering one of the most unexplained crimes in the past century of the US. LEMMiNO is the guy I’ve recommended before who did videos on the Universal S. He is very down to earth and not someone prone to conspiracy or even really that fanciful of thinking. (He’s like the one person I feel covered the Dyaltov Pass incident and was confused by why this was even a mystery because if you read the Russian Autopsy reports and documents associated with the case it’s all pretty logical and easily explained)

D.B. Cooper is the name given to a man who, in 1971, hijacked an airplane with a bomb, asked for a large sum of money, and after receiving it, parachuted from the plane and was never seen or heard from again.

The Austrian Wine Poisoning | Down the Rabbit Hole

Down the Rabbit Hole also has a new video out, this time covering the Austrian Wine Poisoning event from 1985. A scandal that involved literally the entire country of Austria, affected multiple countries, and forever changed the way wine was made world wide. As someone who is generally pretty allergic to most artificial substances this one made me personally very angry. But luckily, it has a happy ending and a better world for us all... if I could drink wine which I can’t do anyway.

The Turbulent Tale of Yandere Dev - A Six Year Struggle

The Right Opinion is another channel I only recently subbed to after watching his cover on Onion Boy. I put off subbing to him simply because of his channel name and I thought it meant he would come across as smug and elitist. Luckily this seems to merely be one of those “I chose a bad channel name and now I’m stuck with it” type of situations. (IHE has a similar problem).

Anyway, I have a weird interest in bizarre internet personalities, so I’ve been enjoying his channel as he simply discusses and presents a timeline of events of certain individuals. In this video, he covers the developer behind the much maligned Yandere Simulator. It’s a tale of hubris, arrogance, immaturity, and an unwillingness to accept your own shortcomings due to ego.

Oh and there’s a meme game about Japanese school girls with anime tiddies in there as well.

The Most Relaxing Anime Ever Made | Yokohama Kaidashi Kikō

Kenny Lauderdale is a youtube channel which is slowly becoming bigger which I’m very happy to see. He exclusively covers anime and live action Japanese television no younger than the mid 90s (as is the case with YYK) and which usually never saw a release outside of Japanese Laserdisc. I do wish his videos were a little longer, but if nothing else his videos serve as an excellent starting to point to find some older and underappreciated shows... or hot garbage fires. In this episode he talks about the 2 OVA episodes made based on one of my favourite manga, Yokohama Shopping Log. A Post apocalyptic anime about an android who runs a coffee shop outside of her house, and the quiet solitude of living in a world of declining human population, brief encounters with travelers and other people, and just... existing. The anime was never released outside of Japan and is only available on Japanese VHS and laserdisc.... but hey guess what!! Somebody uploaded both episodes, subbed, to Youtube.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2HCVOH6DtA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqSTwfkobME

YMS’ slow descent into madness as he uncovers just how bullshit the Kimba Conspiracy is

I’m linking a full playlist for this one.

YMS is busy planning his review on the “live action” Lion King remake as the original 1994 movie is probably his favourite movie all time (and also self declared what made him a furry). As part of the 2 hour review, he decided to what all 2000 hours of Kimba the White Lion just to mention how The Lion King potentially stole the idea. ....until he actually watched all 2000 hours of Kimba and realised that if you actually WATCH Kimba, it has VERY little to do with the Lion King at all apart from having the same animals in them because AFRICA. Watch as one man slowly loses his mind as he realises just how stupid this conspiracy theory is, just HOW DECEITFUL and straight up LYING people can be. People who write BOOKS. People who teach LAW AT UNIVERSITIES. Because NOBODY bothered to actually watch the entire show and just parroted the “Disney stole this” lie which got started by like 2 salty fans on the internet.

The man set out to just mention how Disney stole an idea, and uncovered one of the most infuriating rabbit holes on the internet. Screaming for SOMEONE to provide him with sources or evidence.

YMS will be publishing his full Kimba documentary this month which he has said is around 2 hours long before he continues to work on the Lion King one.

Science Stories: Loch Ness eDNA results, Poop Knives, and Skeleton Lovers

TREY the Explainer has a video giving us some updates in Archeology from 2019. In this video he discusses the findings of the eDNA results conducted on the Loch Ness to see what animal DNA the lake contains which will tell us what living animals currently inhabit the lake, ancient knives made of poop and if this is a real thing that could have existed, and a skeleton couple found buried together which were at first thought to be lovers, then revealed to be both male, and then how in this instance we cannot let our modern sensibilities dictate what we WANT this burial find to be, but to look at the evidence as presented to us and place in context finds of this nature. The worst thing an archaeologist can do is look for proof to a theory they already have.

The Bizarre Modern Reality of Sonic the Hedgehog

Super Eyepatch Wolf is back and he’s here to talk to us about the very very strange existence of Sonic. a 90s rebellious “too cool for School” answer to Mario, a lost idea as the world of video games changes and culture shifted, a meme and punching bag amplified by a unique fanbase and poor quality games, a transcendence into a horrific warped  idea of what he once was, and modern day and where Sonic and his fans are now. As usual Super Eyepatch Wolf knocks it out of the park.

Kokoro Wish and the Birth of a Multiverse: A Lecture on the Work of Jennifer Diane Reitz

I don’t even sub to this channel as I’m not entirely sure what Ben’s usual content is about. But every now and then he has a “101″ class, where he explains to a room full of his friends in a classroom setting (complete with Whiteboard) an internet artist and oddity, the timeline, and what it is they have created. (wait... didn’t I say this already?). Unlike TRO however, the 101 classrooms are not a dark look into disturbed individuals (although the CWC 101 is debatable) nor is it a “lol look at this weirdo” dragging. Instead, of the 3 he’s done so far, it’s usually a rather sympathetic look at some of the strange artists on the internet who through some way or another, left a very big cultural impact on the internet space through their art. Sometimes they may not be the best people, but their work is so outside of what we’re used to seeing that just listening to him run you through these people’s internet history is fascinating.

In this episode he talks about Jennifer Diane Reitz. And although it is titled Kokoro Wish, the lecture is more about Jennifer’s larger work back in the early internet when being a weeb was unheard of, how being trans influenced her stories and characters, and her world building that is so rich and in-depth with it’s own ASTRO PHYSICS it puts any modern fictional world found in games or movies to shame.

Jennifer is not exactly a nice person... and in many ways can be seen as dangerously irresponsible, but she created something truly unique in a way that you kinda struggle figuring out if it’s terrible or a work of genius.

Anyway I think that’s enough for now

[brutal-nemesis]

Seasoned Explorers

Uhh yeah I finally had to turn in my writing portfolio AKA I finished my phat fiction story with a whumpy ending! 

This is a VERY non-canon space pirate AU featuring Castys, Syll, and Erebus, all of whom are mortal and completely human here.

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: character death, body horror, implied amputation, self harm to escape from danger

“Hey, Castys, I just picked up another old distress signal. And it’s close by, so we should be able to at least pop by and grab some valuables before we need to head back to base,” Syll said, glancing up from her command console.

“This better not be another planet with one of those giant evil apocalypse monsters still roaming around. The scars that fish thing gave me have not gone away yet.” Castys rolled down his sleeve as he said this, revealing a row of puncture marks that stood out on his bronze skin. He lazily examined them while still driving their spaceship. 

“The cool thing about scars is that they don’t go away.”

“Oh hey shut up look at that it’s the planet-wow it’s super white.” Castys peered out the window at the huge white sphere that had come into view once the ship had slowed down. Syll got out of her chair and joined him in front of the main window.

“Is it winter in both hemispheres? I didn’t think this one was far enough from its sun to warrant this much ice. And I can’t see any structures or oceans or anything, everything must have been completely frozen over. It could be how they all died,” Syll mused.

“Well, if we get too cold we can always just stab ourselves with our thousand degree knives.” Castys pulled out his plasma knife and held it close to his chest, which probably would have killed him if the blade had been turned on. “Big toasty~.” He put it back in his pocket. “Anyway, could you go get Erebus up while I land this thing? I’ll do it in the southern hemisphere since it’s supposed to be summer there and less cold is good.” Syll nodded and went to wake Erebus, who was sleeping on the lower deck of the ship.

Castys landed the ship in a field next to a frozen city. The three of them met near the exit hatch, and Erebus checked the outside conditions display to see if the atmosphere would be breathable. It was, thankfully, but there was something else that stood out on this supposed frozen planet. “Guys… I don’t think that’s ice out there. The temp gauge says it’s warm out there. Like above-the-melting-point-of-water warm.”

“For real?” Castys replied, shoving Erebus aside to look. “Wack. Guess I won’t need all this warmy stuff then. Especially since this planet isn’t one where the atmosphere isn’t made of toxic gas that’s going to burn my skin.” He shed his warmer layers, and the other two followed suit.

When they stepped outside, they had to shield their eyes for a moment. Everything was a blinding white as far as the eye could see. Every tree and building was covered in a layer of glittering crystals. Flowers sprouted here and there, unnaturally still in the breeze. The ground crunched as they walked on it, the only sound disturbing the unnatural silence that pressed on their ears. The dead planets they pillaged typically still had some sort of life on them, something crawling or running or flying about, but everything here was completely still. Frozen, quiet, and crystalline.

Upon entering the city, they began to find the people. Their forms had been hard to make out from far away in the stark-white environment, but there were hundreds of them throughout the streets. Each and every one was frozen in time. Running, crawling, fallen to the ground, screaming in agony, in disbelief, reaching out to one another, staring up to the sky. Perfectly still statues with every flavor of pain and fear written across their faces.

“What...happened here?” Erebus had stopped in front of the form of a woman collapsed on her knees, a look of horror on her face as she stared at her own hands.

“Yeah this is pretty messed up.” Castys nudged the arm of a person lying on the ground, but they didn’t budge. “I don’t know if it’s as bad as that one planet with all the mushrooms...well, I’m sure y’all remember, but these guys are just like, perfectly frozen in their, uh, magic crystal death.”

“What does it matter? We’re not here to play detective for a dead planet.” Syll paid the frozen people no mind, weaving past them as she continued to walk down the street, looking buildings up and down. “Besides, there’s no use getting all sad about dead people we don’t even know. We see them all the time, pillaging dead planets as much as we do, and this time’s no different.”

“I don’t think we’ve seen anything exactly like this before.” Syll shot an annoyed glare at Castys and he held his hands up in surrender, continuing, “I get what you’re saying, though, so I’m down to stop staring at dead people and try to find some valuables.” He began walking with Syll, and Erebus reluctantly followed, giving the dead woman one last glance.

The three of them usually tried to find a museum or building of the sort when pillaging planets, since works of art of precious artifacts were worth a lot more galaxywide than the planet’s local currency ever could be. Normally, street signs and maps could typically assist in their search, but their crystalline coating made them impossible to read. Erebus tried to scrape the crystals off, but his efforts yielded nothing but more crystals. Wandering around looking for a museum was all they could do.

However, once they saw the building in the distance, they knew they had found it. It was much shorter than the surrounding buildings and was flanked by impressive columns and statues. The three walked through the open doors hoping there was something of value inside. The lights no longer worked, but huge windows along the walls allowed enough light in to see, even though the glass had been turned into the strange crystals. The situation inside the museum wasn’t any different from the outside. Every single thing had been converted to crystals, from the skeletons to the works of art, a blank white scene of greatness long-gone.

“I don’t think there’s gonna be anything worthwhile in here since it’s all crystal-y. Let’s just call this one a dud and head out.” Castys began to turn back and head outside.

“Wait.” Erebus held his arm out, stopping him. “A lot of museums have, like, a room with different minerals and stuff right? Maybe if this place had one we could go and see if this planet has some weird mineral that, I don’t know, spread all over for some reason? There’s gotta be a sign with information or something.” 

“That would be a great idea except for, oh yeah,” Castys gestured to a large blank sign next to him, “words aren’t real.” There was an awkward pause. “Like reading words. Here. Because of the crystals. If there was a sign we couldn’t read it. Because everything turned into-” Erebus clamped a hand over Castys’s mouth before he could continue.

“Thank you, Castys. Shut up, Castys.” Castys responded in an even more mature manner by shoving his friend back, causing him to trip and fall on his back. “Ouch. Geez, dude. You made me bite my tongue.”

“OH NO! I’ve killed you, my dear friend.” Castys fell to his knees, his hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer. “Forgive me for this grave sin.”

“Would you two stop fooling around?!” Syll yelled from the top of the large staircase on the other side of the room. “There might still be something worthwhile in this place, even if it is made of these weird crystals. So start looking.” Castys gave her a thumbs up and helped Erebus off the ground before beginning to explore.

After about an hour, the three of them met up in one of the rooms on the upper floor. There wasn’t much of a haul since most of the things they would normally steal, like gold and gems, lost their value upon becoming crystal. They did find a few small figurines that would still be valuable since their delicate craftsmanship was preserved and a few fossils that were probably detailed enough to be worth something. As they moved to leave, Erebus motioned for the other two to wait.

“I might know what these crystals are. I stopped by what used to be the gemstone room, and being in there helped me remember some stuff from that geology class I took when I was younger.” He held up a chunk of crystal he’d picked up from somewhere. “There’s one mineral that you can lick it and you know exactly what it is. Give it a try, Castys.” He tossed him the crystal.

“Well, you know I like licking things.” Castys immediately tried it out, much to Syll’s disgust and Erebus’s amusement. He made a face. “Eugh. It’s just super salty.”

“Wait, it’s actually halite? It’s the mineral that’s just straight-up NaCl, one hundred percent salt. I was hoping it was just going to be quartz or something, here, let me try.” Erebus motioned for Castys to give him the crystal back. 

“So you just wanted me to lick a random rock for no reason? Why didn’t you just try it yourself?” Castys replied, tossing it back.

“Every scientist needs a guinea pig.” Erebus smiled. He licked the crystal and immediately winced. “Ouch, yeah that’s halite all right. Which I normally wouldn’t mind licking, but somebody made me bite my tongue.” He stuck it out for them to see the small wound, but where it should have been red, there was a patch of white. And it was growing bigger. 

“Erebus, what is that?” Syll asked, moving forward to get a closer look.

“I-” was all he could say before his tongue became completely encased in the white crystals and Erebus found he couldn’t move it anymore. The spread of the crystals didn’t stop there. The patch of flesh-turned-salt grew bigger and bigger, radiating out from his mouth. He collapsed to the ground, frantically scratching at his skin, trying to get the rapidly forming layer of salt off. Castys and Syll looked oh in horror as every gouge he made in his flesh quickly changed from red to white, drops of blood only coloring their bleached surroundings for a moment before turning completely into salt. 

“Erebus, Erebus!” Castys grabbed his hand, trying to do something, anything, to help his friend. “What the hell is happening?!” He yelled desperately.

“I-I don’t…” Syll felt rooted to the spot, like she was the one turning into a statue. All she could do was watch as Erebus’s movements became jerkier in his last act of grabbing Castys’s hand tightly with both of his own. And then he was still, completely encased in the same crystal as the entire planet, immortalizing his final moments of agony.

There was silence. Castys and Syll stayed perfectly still, as if they were waiting to see if the same fate would befall them. 

“I-” Castys looked up at Syll, tears brimming in his eyes, “Syll, this is all my fault, I-I made him bite his tongue is that what killed him oh god I-”

“We don’t know what for sure, Castys.” 

“Well then why aren’t I made of salt now too?! I licked it and nothing happened, but Erebus…”

“Hey, hey Castys, it’s okay, you didn’t know, there’s no way you could have known.” She knelt down and wrapped her arms around him, feeling him shake with sobs. She was too much in shock to cry now, it still didn’t feel real. But there was no way Castys could deny Erebus’s fate. His left hand was still tightly clasped between both of Erebus’s. He couldn’t stop staring at his face, one that was laughing and smiling a minute ago, now frozen in an expression of terror. 

They weren’t sure how much time had passed, but when the light coming in from the windows began to dim, Syll stood and offered a hand to her friend. “Come on, Castys. Let’s...let’s go home.” Castys nodded wordlessly and started to stand, but when he tried to pull his hand out from Erebus’s, it wouldn’t budge. He tugged and tugged, but he couldn’t free himself from the dead man’s grip.

“Syll, Syll, my hand is stuck. He won’t let go.” He looked up at her pleadingly, the grief in his eyes beginning to mix with fear. 

“Uh-I-I don’t…” She had an idea immediately, but she hated herself for thinking of it. She looked around checking her pockets and her bag for some other solution, but there was nothing else she could think of. Nothing else she could do besides use her plasma knife. “Hold still.” She turned the knife on, the superheated blade flickering into existence, and positioned it near one of Erebus’s wrists. “I’m sorry, Erebus.” The knife cut through the salt easily, melting it before it even came in contact with the blade. When she was done, Castys lifted his arm, hand still clasped between the disembodied salt ones. He began to try to pry them off, and Syll joined in once she had turned her knife off. One of the hands snapped with an audible crack, fingers breaking off and leaving behind jagged stumps. One of which sliced into Castys’s palm.

Red blood oozed out of the gash, but that red quickly faded to white as crystals began to replace flesh and blood. “No, no, STOP!” Castys screamed, holding his hand as far away from himself as he could, as if that would stop him from meeting the same fate as his friend. “Stop it please I don’t want to die I’m sorry Erebus I’m so so sorry!”

Syll felt like she was on autopilot as she grabbed his wrist in one hand and the knife in the other. There was no time to think, no time to hesitate. She couldn’t lose them both.

 She turned the knife on and swung. 

There were three severed hands made of salt lying on the ground. But there were two flesh and blood people. They were hurting, to be sure, but they were alive. They could escape. And escape they did, leaving the silent planet of salt behind.

[whetstonefires]

Sephiroth, 1, 2, 5, 9, 12, 16, 20. I find your take on him so interesting! (And kind of sad too...)

Oh gosh this is so many! Haha okay, here goes.

1.Their physical weak spots

Huh. He’s programmed to be literally impossible to damage in the one actual fight in the Nibel flashback, the dragon. I theorize this might have been his first-level Limit? But of course you can’t use a Limit unless you’ve been injured first. (Apparently they reversed this in the Remake which is a major thematic change and I don’t like it? Anyway tho.)

So on one level his physical untouchability is part of his trademark and there’s a temptation to say ‘none’ and be done with it.

Normal human weak spots, I imagine, he’s not as alien as all that. The throat is the throat, I mean. His disinclination for wearing shirts may suggest an indifference to thoracic damage, but between his tendency to not get hit at all and the existence of healing magic that doesn’t necessarily mean much.

The vertical pupils which can dilate much further than normal would make him particularly vulnerable to flashbangs used in a dark or even dim environment. I assume Wutaian ninjas exploited the heck out of that. :D

2. Their emotional/moral weak spots

Abandonment issues was a big one, I think, and all the huge gaping vulnerabilities created by being a child with no one to love, or who loved you.

Thinking outside of Shinra’s standard pathways is a matter of some anxiety to him, in Crisis Core–his idea of resistance is ‘find my friend first and then oops fail to kill him they can’t prove it was on purpose’ and then later ‘turn down the assignment to find my friend and kill him.’ There’s just, a lot of emotional dependence on a toxic structure indicated by his behavior patterns.

I’m sure that was deliberately instilled, but it’s not that hard. His superpowers aren’t Superman scale self-sufficient until after he ‘dies’ once, and capitalism does what it does. He’s not much less dependent on the Company for survival than the average worker, and more so for identity.

Morally he was disadvantaged by being a corporate supersoldier with Hojo as his parent–the details of his upbringing have never been clarified but they sure didn’t put him anywhere outside Shinra enough for him to form external attachments, or even powerful internal personal ones prior to the rather shaky ones he managed with two peers sometime in adolescence, which leaves fairly few possibilities really.

Anyway morally he’s nothing but weaknesses, even before he got tangled up with The Thing From The Northern Crater and decided he was God and should consume all life. ^^;

5. Guilty pleasures 

You know, I don’t think even pre-evil Sephiroth did guilt much? Waste of energy, and (see above) he wasn’t socialized for it, it’s counterproductive in a soldier. The ‘guilt’ in guilty pleasure is really a species of shame though, and anyone with that much pride is vulnerable to the opposite, even if they weren’t exposed to someone like Hojo growing up….

You know, it was probably novels? He was a reader, and one of the most personal things we know about him from the OG is the deep impression left by Hojo’s furious rant about how inappropriate it was to use poetic expressions about magic. Even ‘magic’ was too sentimental for this domineering science twit.

So, every so often growing Sephiroth would get his hands on a piece of fiction, and the quality wasn’t necessarily great because it was whatever he could pick up in the break room or wherever, but he’d hole up out of sight and scarf it down. Even once he had his own living space and salary and could buy whatever books he wanted and store them, he’d pick up novels on the sly and get rid of them once he was done, like someone was going to catch him. One of the things he used to pick out of the ruins in Wutai during the looting was books.

He always felt a confusing mess of jealousy and scorn about Genesis’ Loveless thing. That he could just like it like that, constantly, right out in the open, where anyone could laugh at him. That nobody had ever taken it away.

Less tragically, I think sometimes he’d go home and watch bad TV. Whatever Midgar’s stupidest soap opera was. Sephiroth caught enough of the reruns to know most of the main plots. He had an opinion about who the father of Jaqueline’s baby should have turned out to be. He would never admit this.

9. Humiliating memories

Okay, as touched on above repeatedly, he grew up with Hojo, who loves breaking people down and laughing at them, so he’s probably got a lot of these.

The worst one is one time when he had a weak moment or an optimistic one, and asked out loud in words for something he really, really wanted, and Hojo said yes, and gave Sephiroth just enough time to get desperately excited and express gratitude before laughing at him and saying of course he was lying. Don’t be stupid.

That isn’t something important enough to bother with.

12. Grudges and vendettas 

‘Burning inside with violent anger’ isn’t there for no reason. From Nibelheim on these define him, and according to bonus materials of middling canon status he eventually sheds almost all identity elements but his grudges.

I think, based on the shape of his breakdown? That for most of his life he told himself that holding onto anger and pursuing grudges was a waste of time and energy. But that didn’t actually help him let any of it go, he just internalized and ignored things. Because he wasn’t actually not holding grudges, he was just reacting like someone who didn’t have any choices, and marinating in spite.

Spite against Hojo surfaces on the way up to the reactor in a way that says to me it’s a habit, almost a reflex. But it manifests in profound pettiness, and I think that’s the only way he normally felt he was permitted to act out against the people who really bothered him, though I’m also sure he channeled a lot of anger into unrelated killing. Natural thing to do when you’re a frustrated teenager who’s supposed to be killing people anyway.

By the time he did it in Nibelheim, it was an old habit.

The fact that he bothered to personally kill the Shinra President as his big debut says to me he was holding a grudge about his entire life against the person who commissioned him and declared the war and shaped the floating Midgar-world that defined his life. I think there were probably a lot of personal insults in there too, just because of the way Shinra Sr. seems to have conducted himself generally.

He’s a Donald Trump expy wouldn’t you.

Sephiroth is written as a much softer person in Crisis Core, almost absurdly so, but even there you can see him resenting Genesis and Angeal more than a little for abandoning him. It probably brought back his whole mess of feelings about Gast, who really did abandon him quite unforgivably but Sephiroth never knew the full circumstances, just that he was gone and later dead. There are signs he blamed Hojo, who doesn’t seem to have gloated openly about the murder even if he did make sure to inform the boy his favorite person was dead now.

And of course later on there’s Cloud, which doesn’t actually make that much sense until you loop in the retcon about Cloud throwing him into the reactor and cutting short his initial rampage. There’s the grudges he seems to have inherited from Jenova, against the Cetra.

It’s not out of the question that he killed Aerith the way he did in part because she was the thing Gast abandoned him for, as well as all the other less personal reasons. I sort of like to think so.

16. Dark secrets/’skeletons in the closet’

Of his own, as opposed to ‘about him’ that he found out about, I don’t think he really had many? He wasn’t much accustomed to privacy.

I think most of the worst things he did, as a human being rather than a transhuman monstrosity, were pretty unavoidably public; they were war crimes, and happened in front of some fraction of the rest of the army. He was praised for them.

There probably were a lot of dark things he never talked to anyone about, that weren’t really known, but except for outright humiliating childhood incidents like above he wasn’t particularly hiding them. He was just never in a position where it would have made any sense to him to bring them up.

Genesis wasn’t ever someone it was safe to be vulnerable around, and Angeal was uncomfortable with too much emotion, and besides they were fellow soldiers and it wasn’t like the things he didn’t talk about from the war were anything special, and he wasn’t going to complain about his childhood to them. And who else was there?

Dude needed so much therapy.

20. What-ifs/Alternate Timelines 

I go absolutely nuts with alternate timelines for Sephiroth. He’s so much fun to work with that way.

Lucretia and Vincent stole the baby and went on the run: Firo grew up kinda isolated in the woods with his parents but runs away at thirteen to fight Shinra because he’s so mad they had to leave Wutai because of the invasion. Parzival AU.

Ifalna recruited Sephiroth to her escape scheme and he wound up raising Aerith on the run, under the names Rith and Roth. Beloved Dust AU, that one’s actually online as you may very well know lol.

Vincent blew up the Nibelheim reactor with Hojo and Jenova in it when Sephiroth was six, and then later Midgar blew up as well and the Shinra world order collapsed, and the recently married Mrs. Strife adopted the weird lab kid. Later on Cloud pressures his big brother into starting an anti-bandit militia. Time Of General Strife AU.

Cute three-way blood brothers ceremony contaminates Genesis’ body with Sephiroth’s DNA and sets off his degeneration several years early, when they’re all teenagers and not nearly as famous, powerful, or fucked in the head. Brother and Brother AU.

And so on. ;}

[you-guys--are-losers]

Super need a fix about the scene where peter takes his shirt off in front of MJ. Maybe an alternative;) love ya

//Love ya, too!!! Ahh, I was hoping to receive a prompt about that particular scene. ;) I definitely have some thoughts about it, mostly concerning what would have happened if Ned hadn’t shown up right at that moment. So, here goes, and I hope that you guys appreciate my alternate ending! 

A Purely Anatomical Interest

Summary: MJ has imagined Peter Parker taking his shirt off in front of her many times. Now that it’s happening, though, everything is so much more confusing. Killer drones, secret identities, illusion tech, and a super-fraud: it’s enough all on its own, and MJ knows she’s capable of handling it.

Peter Parker’s abs, though? Those are another story. 

Characters: Michelle Jones x Peter Parker, Nick Fury, Quentin Beck

Word Count: 4,169 

Warnings: Partial Nudity, Teenage Awkwardness, Fluff, Angst

/ gifcredit: @alwaysthequietones /

Slam, thud.

The door to Peter’s hotel room slams shut behind them, causing both Peter and MJ to start slightly in the quiet of the suite. The noise is followed by the soft thump of their shared discovery as Peter tosses it on his bed. In the middle of the refined hotel room, the hunk of advanced metal tech is almost humorously out of place.

Or, at least, it would be humorous if everything weren’t so real all at once.

Suddenly, the soft humming of the radiator that was so calming when MJ initially settled into her own hotel room now seems ominous, like a quiet whisper that she can’t quite make out, no matter how hard she tries.

The warm glow the light casts over everything now feels ironic as Peter immediately launches to action, shooting to close the curtains. MJ is left standing in the center of the room, watching as the dweeb (whose relationship to her is far too confusing to contemplate at the moment) leaps into the action. Every little, paranoid measure he takes seems almost like second nature to him, something that strikes MJ as both amusing in a twisted way and a little sad.

How much of this, she can’t help but wonder, is a result of losing so much to the Blip?

Peter’s quiet mutterings snap MJ away from her quiet analysis of Peter Parker, and she simply watches and listens as he continues.”

“I can’t believe I gave back those glasses,” Peter breathes, peeking through the curtains one last time for good measure. Before the blue gingham has even had a chance to flutter back into place, he is already across the room and situated at his laptop. “I mean, how could I be that stupid? He’s probably spying on me right now, or sending a drone to come and kill me.”

MJ knows that the proper response is probably something like, “No, you’re not stupid, anyone would have made that mistake-” or whatever, but nothing of that sort leaves her lips as she turns to stare at him. Her eyes widen as she stares burning holes into the loser across the room, incredulous.

“You had access to killer drones?”

Okay, so not her smartest comment; after a quick examination of the statement, she supposes that his killer-spandex probably have given him access to a number of dangerous weapons. But drones… That sounds like something that she’s read about in one of her many conspiracy theories, except this?

This is real, in a way that fills her with both a pressing sense of anxiety and the strange, slightly macabre urge to laugh. After all, this is her life now, and he’s talking about things that sound like they came out of a low-budget sci-fi movie in complete seriousness.

“Yeah. I didn’t really want ‘em, especially after I almost killed Brad,” Peter mumbles. He ignores her stare for a moment, and MJ can’t help but be slightly grateful. She’s sure her eyes are bugging out of her head, and for a moment, she can’t even find words.

“You almost killed Brad?”

Peter’s eyes snap to her then, and at that moment he at least has the good sense to appear slightly sheepish and flustered as well. Now, MJ is acutely aware of the fact that she is standing in the middle of a chaotic, jumbled mess in Peter’s hotel room, and she’s pretty sure that he’s being struck by the same sort of realization.

Just when MJ thinks he might address it, Peter opens his mouth, hesitates for a fraction of a second, and moves on. “Look, I have to call Mr. Fury and tell him Beck’s a fraud, but… I think he tapped my phone.”

Right, right. Okay. There’s really no time to think about what this means; no time to think about them, about the weird walk on the bridge, about anything but the strange simulation tech that is sinking into the duvet and mattress topper.

MJ can tell that Peter’s mind is moving quickly, perhaps too fast even for him. He’s trying to think, but he’s not processing anything but his panic, and MJ knows that if he continues down this path he’s going to overanalyze himself into a meltdown.

Luckily, MJ’s expertise with conspiracy theory has brought her to the point that little can shock her, and this affinity for true crime has also taught her how to react in a crisis. Granted, most of the crises are hypothetical (except for the current political climate in the US, but that is an issue for another day), but any experience is beneficial if it makes her helpful in a situation like this.

“Okay, so what are you gonna do?” MJ’s voice is sharp, practical as she scrutinizes Peter. For a moment, his eyes flicker to hers, and MJ can see the shifting of his brain into gear as his face loses that stupidly adorable flustered expression. A quiet sort of confidence is left in its place.

“Um, I need my suit,” Peter begins, and MJ offers a small nod. There. He’s figuring out what he needs to do now, and she can tell that her logical question was enough to ground him. “And I have to go to Berlin and talk to Mr. Fury in person.”

With that, Peter jumps into action, and MJ observes him as he grabs a dark bundle of fabric (pfft, ”Night Monkey” her ass) and immediately begins to remove his shirt and pants.

It takes MJ a moment to even process what is happening. As soon as it hits, her eyes shoot open so quickly it hurts. Peter doesn’t realize their compromising situation quite as quickly as MJ, but when he does, his mouth falls open slightly.

His eyes meet her own, and for a moment, they stand in front of each other just staring.

MJ can see the beginning of a slight, awed smile that Peter is trying to hide, and so she quickly looks anywhere else. Unfortunately, the only other option presented her is, well–

Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope-ity nope, nope, nope.

They’re just muscles, MJ tries to remind herself as they seem to stare her down. Just anatomical structures meant to allow movement of the skeleton. They’re useful, and that’s all. There’s nothing about them that’s supposed to be aesthetically pleasing…

Oh, but they are.

It is only then that MJ realizes that the pair of them have been staring. Heat floods her cheeks. MJ swallows, clenching her jaw, and offers him what might be an attempt at a nod before she slowly revolves, turning to face the wall. There is a moment of hesitation as her eyes find the fancy wallpaper, seizing on the pattern as the rustling and zipping of fabric resumes.

Maybe if MJ stares at the wall designs enough they will erase the image of Peter’s bare chest that has burned itself into her mind.

This proves to be just wishful thinking, however. No matter how hard MJ tries to think her way out of this one, to focus on something, anything else, all her brain can scream at her about is the fact that Peter Parker is standing behind her, half-naked and built like one of the Spider-Man action figures in the stores.

She always had thought them to be an exaggeration, but nope.

Maybe this doesn’t have to be a weird thing. The thought comes out of nowhere, and MJ’s eyes drift upward as she tries to keep herself from considering it. Maybe if she focuses on the light fixture above her–

You had a chance on the bridge, and you blew it, the voice in her brain realizes. You lied.

A little pang of guilt worms its way through her stomach, and MJ is having trouble ignoring it. She searches for any way to ease it, but there isn’t one. MJ’s policy is honesty, even when it hurts. Now that she’s broken it, she understands why.

Because even if the truth hurts, it doesn’t hurt as much as it does to hide it.

And here is a chance to make it right. It is for this reason that MJ slowly begins to turn, eyes traveling to the side as she waits for the loser that she’s been crushing on for years to come into view. But each second that it takes to turn adds to the panic in her chest, and at the very last moment, MJ’s stomach lurches to tell her she can’t do it.

Okay. It’s fine, it’s okay. MJ snaps her head back forward so that she is facing opposite him, squeezing her eyes shut. For a few seconds, MJ takes deep breaths as she struggles to regain her composure.

Alright, this is stupid.

It’s Peter Parker, MJ reminds herself. Her mental voice is chastising now, fed up with the amount of pure, unfiltered teen stupidity that is running rampant through her brain right now.

This is the kid who tripped on the way onto the bus, smacked into the side railing, and then apologized to it. He’s not some terrifying, unapproachable person; he’s him, and that’s why MJ likes him. Maybe even more than that.

And that’s why he deserves the truth.

MJ takes a deep breath, slowly allowing her eyes to open. After a minute, she deliberately sucks in some air, parting her lips. It’ll take two seconds, she reasons, to tell the truth. So go. And with that thought, MJ begins to speak.

“So-”

What if he doesn’t feel the same for you, and when he looks at you his stupid puppy-eyes have pity in them?

The thought crashes into MJ out of nowhere like a semi-truck into a smart car. It knocks the breath out of her lungs, and before she even has time to think, words come tumbling out of her mouth.

“There’s actually three types of muscle in your body. Or, at least, in the human body. I don’t really know what kind of muscles there are in the spider body, so I guess that you could have some weird, hybrid-type muscle going on. You know, because of the radiation.”

Each syllable follows directly on the heels of the last one, sending them all stumbling into one another as they hit the air in a rapid-fire burst. The movement of the fabric behind MJ stops suddenly, sending the room into silence for a moment.

MJ might be imagining it, but when Peter speaks, she swears that she can hear a bit of breathlessness in his confused tone. “MJ, what are you-”

The panic returns again, this time in a stronger surge, and MJ knows that she can’t let him talk. She can’t let him, because what if he says something and it hurts? So there’s only one alternative left.

“There’s smooth muscle, which some of your organs are made out of. It’s the slimy stuff, and it kind of does its own thing, so you don’t really see much of it. Then there’s cardiac muscle.”

“MJ-”

“It’s the stuff that makes up your heart, and it’s pretty weird-lookin’. Kinda got that whole bamboo aesthetic goin’ on, you know? It’s called striation. Also, each cell has more than one nucleus, so that’s pretty cool, too. I wish Flash had more than one brain; it might make up for some of the stupid.”

“Wait, I don’t-”

“Then there’s skeletal muscle, which is the type you can actually build. That’s the stuff the bodybuilders have a ton of. It weighs, like, a ton or something, and it’s basically the stuff that moves around your bones, kind of like puppet strings. So your skeleton is one big puppet, and then your muscles are the things that make it dance around like a marionette.”

“Um, okay. So that’s all pretty cool and creepy, but-”

“Right? So there’s no reason for muscles to be attractive.”

MJ stares at the wall all the more fiercely, her breath becoming even more shallow as silence stretches between them. She swears she can hear Peter’s breathing catch in his throat, but before she has time to analyze it, MJ surges ahead.

“They’re really just useful, so there’s nothing that impressive about building them up, right? Like, bodybuilding competitions are just weird. ‘Oh, huh, you have the same stuff everyone else has, you just wasted more time and energy than anyone else on pointless movements. So, here’s a trophy.’ All that having muscles means is that you did the same thing that everyone else already does to function a couple extra times. So this whole thing everyone has for muscles is really weird.”

MJ can barely hear Peter’s slightly constricted interjection. “MJ, I-”

“Some scientists think that it has to do with the whole strength thing. Apparently, our monkey brains like looking at someone who has whatever body type is the hardest to get because it means that that person is powerful. Since today, food is less difficult to obtain for a larger percentage of the population, someone who is muscular or skinny has sex appeal. That’s why when everyone was, like, starving to death and dying of dysentery and plague, being well-fed and heavier was seen as the ideal body type.”

MJ is fully aware that, to date, talking about diseases involving violent episodes of diarrhea has not been a particularly successful seduction method. But now that she has started talking, MJ can’t stop. She needs to say anything, anything and everything.

She needs to say everything because if she stops talking she knows she’s going to have to say the truth.

“So, by that logic, muscles aren’t really attractive. They’re just the hardest thing to get, so they’re the most sought-after,” MJ rambles, seizing a panicked breath between statements. “Pretty lame, really, how capitalistic attitudes ruin our standards of beauty. It’s one of the many evils of the system-”

“MJ.” Peter seems to have recovered his voice, though it is slightly lower and huskier than normal.

MJ clenches her fists, and her breath seems determined not to leave her as she attempts to burn holes in the wall with her eyes. Maybe, if she stares hard enough, she can set the building on fire, and then they never have to talk about this situation ever again. Or, hey, they don’t know the full capabilities of the advanced technology on Peter’s bed. If MJ presses the right button, it could open a hole in the ground that will swallow MJ right up.

Deep down, though, MJ knows that whatever happens next is inevitable. There’s no avoiding the discussion that’s going to follow, so she might as well let it happen to her. MJ lets out the held breath in a soft sigh, loosening her fists.

“Yeah, loser?” MJ’s voice is quiet, and though the words themselves have confidence, she can’t keep a note of hesitation out of her voice.

“I, uh– could you turn around?” Peter’s voice is just as flustered and uncertain, and something about it calms her. It is for this reason that MJ nods, and before she can stop herself, slowly turns herself around.

As soon as she does, MJ can feel all the blood in her body return to her face again. She manages to keep herself frozen, at the very least, but the hammering in her heart makes it feel like someone has shoved Usain Bolt into MJ’s chest cavity. Because, though Peter has the suit on up to his neck, she can still see every single muscle in Peter Parker’s chest, each one only further highlighted by the gleaming, black, suit.

MJ can’t help but think that if there is a God out there, She must have chiseled each and every sculpted rise and fall in Peter’s chest Herself.

In order to preserve her sanity, though, MJ locks her eyes onto Peter’s own. In them, she finds the same alarming depth that is there every time she glances his way. As her eyes fix themselves onto his own, MJ knows that it is this deep, dark warmth that keeps her looking his way, keeps her observant.

As she looks into them now, she sees a tangle of emotions: hesitation, uncertainly, awkwardness. But what she sees that causes her heart to skip a few beats is the hope that ties it all together.

“So, um…” Peter starts awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. MJ swallows thickly, pursing her lips, but she doesn’t look away. “I-I’m sorry. I should’ve thought about it before I started, uh, changing. You didn’t consent to seeing that, so…”

“Uh, no, it– it’s fine,” MJ replies, a little too quickly. For a second, there is more silence, and they both quickly look away from each other.

MJ’s gaze snaps back to his, though, when Peter clears his throat. When her eyes find the slightly awed smile forming on his lips, though, she can’t breathe again. Her eyes narrow just a bit, and the question that leaves her lips is slow and careful. “What?”

Peter quickly erases the smile, but a fraction of the expression remains in his wide eyes. “Uh, nothing,” he stammers. “I mean, we just established that, um, there’s really no reason for anyone to find my muscles attractive.”

MJ isn’t sure quite how to respond to that one, but it’s easier to give him a quick, stiff nod than it is to address the warm tingling in her stomach, so that is what she does. “So?”

Peter’s eyes lock on her own, and they hold all of the familiar things: nervousness, for one thing, and an acute awareness that whatever he is about to do it probably a bad idea. There’s also a gleam of intensity, though, and this is what prevents MJ from looking away as he speaks.

“Well, uh… I guess, even if that’s true, I wouldn’t be upset if you did.”

That statement sucks all of the breathable oxygen out of the room, and MJ’s eyes widen as she gawks at him. She has to process this– she needs to run his statement through her head once, then twice, and then maybe three or four more times for good measure…

No.

For once, a smooth, cooling silence settles itself over the chaos in MJ’s head. As she looks at him, letting his words wash over her, MJ realizes that there is no pity in those eyes, no matter how hard she looks. In fact, if she looks hard enough, she can see something else, something that scares her for a different reason.

Something that scares her in a good way.

So, when MJ speaks this time, it isn’t to drown him out or to hold herself back, and it isn’t in a jumble of words. This time, her words aren’t meant to beat away the fear, they’re meant to embrace it– and they’re meant to do it in as few words as possible.

“Good.” The one word is enough to fill the space between them, and as soon as it drops from her lips the ripples it creates expand into crashing waves that roar in her ears. Peter’s eyes widen across from MJ, but then the smile is returning.

When he looks at MJ, Peter looks like he has never seen anything like her before– he looks at her with an admiration that is pure and whole. It’s not the sort of absentminded appreciation that one has for a sparkling jewel or a static painting, something meant to be seen and not touched. This is the wonder inspired by a storm rolling in with massive, crashing waves, all of the awe that accompanies a brilliant sunrise, the kind of art that will never quite fit in a frame.

MJ lets out a shaky breath, and then she is taking a step to close the distance between them. Immediately, Peter matches it, and then they are so close that their chests are almost touching, so close that MJ has to tip her head down slightly to maintain eye contact with him.

Slowly, experimentally, MJ raises a hand and brings it to rest on Peter’s upper chest. It is warm, solid beneath her fingertips and the suit, and MJ can feel the sharp gasp that her touch causes in Peter Parker. Her eyes rise to meet his, and when they do there is a playful glimmer in them. In response, Peter slowly lets his hand wrap around the back of her neck, resting where his fingers can tangle in the baby curls at the nape.

His touch makes MJ nervous, but this is a different kind of nervous. These are the nerves that result from knowing that something is coming… Something soon, and something that is going to change everything you thought you knew for the better.

“Because even if I did like looking at your stupid arms or anything,” MJ informs Peter, composed though the inches between them seem to tingle with expectation, “it’s only because I’m an inquisitive person with… With a purely anatomical interest.”

Peter’s thumb travels lightly along the side of her neck, barely skimming the skin as he looks up at her. His smile only grows then, and MJ isn’t sure if her body is built to process the slight hint of adoration she can see in his irises.

“I-I think I can live with that,” Peter manages to say, his voice an octave higher than normal. “And, um… Maybe, when I get back from Berlin, we could have– I dunno. An anatomy lesson?”

MJ stares at him for a minute, face completely inscrutable. Peter’s eyes widen as he realizes what he’s said, and MJ watches as his eyes dart around the room, clearly searching for a means of escape.

“Wait, I– uh, I didn’t mean it like-like that, I-”

It’s Peter’s panicked stammering that causes MJ to break. The laughter that bursts from her is wild and unexpected, and it can’t possibly surprise Peter more than it surprises MJ. But there, in the middle of the hotel room, MJ can’t help but sit in the middle of it all and laugh. Peter joins in too, after a minute, and when they step away from each other it’s with a new sort of ease that MJ has only tasted around him before.

“You didn’t just say that.”

“Um,” Peter says with a grin, rubbing his neck sheepishly as he strides to the window, “yeah, maybe you can forget about that while I’m gone?”

“No chance.”

“Yeah, I knew it was a long shot.”

The window slides open, then, and as the night air enters the room, the sort of frenzied relief that MJ feels darts out into the darkness of Prague. As MJ turns to face Peter, there is something different in her eyes– something determined. “Hey, dork.”

Peter, who has by now effortlessly leaped into the open window, turns to face her. He has pulled down the mask on his suit now, and MJ can’t help but miss his dark eyes as she stares into the glassy, opaque ones. “Yeah?” he asks, and just the sound of his stupid voice is enough to make her heart twinge again, renewing the uncertain tension.

“Come back.”

For a minute, those opalescent eyes lock on her own, and MJ thinks that Peter is going to turn without saying anything. But then, his stupid voice pipes up, slightly constricted and forced in its optimism.

“Well, yeah. Who else will be able to get you that anatomy lesson?”

MJ can’t stop the shocked laugh that leaves her, and she slowly shakes her head. “Okay, yeah. Get out before I call Flash and tell him you have a thing for teacher-student stuff.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Peter replies, saluting her in response. His gaze lingers a little longer on her, though, and she could swear his body language softens. “Um… Bye, MJ. I’ll be back soon.” He moves to leave through the window then, but MJ finds herself lurching forward.

“Wait,” she says quickly, and Peter immediately freezes and turns back to her. As soon as he turns, his arm shoots out to catch the piece of tech that MJ has just tossed his way. “You’re gonna need this.”

“Oh.” Peter’s sheepish voice causes warmth to crawl up the back of MJ’s neck. “Thanks.”

“Let me know when you get there.” MJ isn’t sure what prompts her to say it.

Peter gives her one quick, final nod, lingering for a moment before he finally leaps into the night. MJ is left in his hotel room with the sounds of Prague drifting in through the open window. As she moves to close it, though, MJ realizes that those aren’t the only things that Peter has left with her.

MJ now has a slightly better understanding of the anatomy of who Peter is… And, though she can’t quite explains why, MJ knows that once they manage to get through this mess, there are going to be plenty of lessons for the both of them on the other side.