learnmoretechnology

[sciderman]

this isn't THRIVING... this is FALLING APART... with STYLE

[to-hell-and-beyond]

“On The Inside”

Samantha LaRusso x Female Reader

Requested: Yes : No

Request: Sam x fem! Tory’s sister! reader? Enemies to lovers please! Btw, I’m Cherry anon, but call me Cherry!- Cherry

OMG! A Cherry Anon ask! Sorry this took so long, I’m actually pretty proud on how this turned out.

Summary: What first starts out as protecting your sister turns into a full on Karate Battle. Little did you know what a kiss can do...

Words: 2375

“Y/n!” Your sister screamed. She had never wanted this to happen to you. Karate was her thing, in order to protect you. But here you were lying on the cold hard floor, bleeding. It was her fault, if she had just let you go and not drag you into this you could still be ok. It all started with a fight…

“I just don't want to treat Miguel like you treat everyone else!’ Sam shouted at your sister, as  she pointed her finger at her.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Tory shouted enraged. How dare this brat come here and mess with her love life and then accuse her?

“Tory?” You called out from the back door. Both girls then turned their attention to you. Standing there before was a girl, with the most beautiful hair you have ever seen. She kinda looked like a goddess. You both locked eyes before your sister interrupted.

“It’s nothing Y/n, let’s go in now.” She told you as she pushed you past the LaRusso girl. You tried to ask your sister more about her but she wouldn't budge.

“I just want to be no more Tory.”

“You want to know more?” Tory asked as she got up from the couch. “Shure I’ll tell you more. That girl is one of those rich stuck up girls, I tell you to stay away from. She’s a bitch that thinks she’s better than everyone else and can get all in my face.”

Tory then finished her rant and walked away, leaving you to stand in the middle of the living room. Was Sam really all those things? Guess beauty is really on the inside.

You were walking to school like you always do before you looked to see some of the popular students. With them was Sam. You frowned, still thinking about what your sister had just told you about her.

“You’re Y/n right? We have biology.” Sam said as she came up to you. One hand on her hip as she flashed an award winning smile at you.

“Um, Yes. Can you, um leave me alone please?” You quietly asked as his smile turned into a frown. 

“What? Why?” She kept on asking as she blocked your way. She had just met you now, why did you want her to leave?

“My sister told me to stay away from you.” Just as you said those words clicked in her mind. You were the girl that called Tory’s name, Tory must be your sister that’s why you must have wanted her to leave.

“Wait, your Tory’s sister?! So you're just gonna listen to every word that comes out of her mouth? Like some sort of pet?” You were outraged that she had even said those words. 

“Excuse me? My sister told me to stay away from you because she knew you would act like this, and it's really disgusting that you do.” You told her as you pushed past her to make your way to school.

From that point on you and Sam were enemies. You weren’t as bad as her and your sister, but you two still had bad blood. What was worse is that no matter what she did you still had feelings for her. Even when she said those bad things to your Sister you still liked her. And for that you hated her.

“I have another Karate practice, so make sure to pick up Mom’s pills ok?” You’re sister told you as she grabbed her bag and handed you the prescription.

Next thing you knew you were standing in front of West Valley pharmacy. You waited for it to be your turn as you looked and checked your texts on your phone. The line wasn’t moving that fast  as you would like so it looked like you were going to be there for a while.

“Yes Mom...Don’t worry...I’ll be fine...Love you to.” You heard the familiar voice of Samantha LaRusso behind you. Yu locked eyes as she moved to stand behind her.

“What are you doing here?” You asked. Why on planet earth would a spoiled rich girl be standing in line for medication. Maybe she was a drug addict?

“I could ask you the same thing.” She fired back as you two waited for the line to move.

“Hey Rick.” You said as you passed the familiar pharmacist the prescription. He smiled up before handing you the orange bottles.

“Make sure your Mom takes it twice a week right?” You nodded as he flashed you a smile. Sam looked you way as he mentioned your Mom but you ignored her. You didn’t need to add fuel to the fire.

You waited outside as you texted your sister when practice would be over. She had the car and the next bus wouldn’t be available till 8. The ringing of the bell chiming, made you look up from your phone to Samantha LaRusso coming towards you.

“I’m sorry Y/n. I had no idea that your Mom was so sick.” You looked down as she apologized. You didn’t really believe that it was from her heart and you really didn’t need her sympathy.

“Well it's not like I wear a shirt saying “Hello, my Mom is super sick” Sam.” You fired back. She looked down before looking up to meet your eyes again.

“I-I just want to tell you Y/n that the way I’ve been treating you is wrong. My fight is between me and your sister. You're being the good sister standing up for her like that, I’m the one at fault and I’m so sorry.” She apologized, but this time it seemed to be from her heart.

“Tell that to Tory then.” You spat as you turned around to go back to your phone. If she really wanted your sympathy, that apology thing she was doing was not going to work.

“I promised my Mom I would drop this off at my friends house. She lives close to you, I can walk with you if you’d like. I know how scary those streets can be when you're alone.” You thought about it for a minute. It would be nice to not have to wait for your sister and if anything ahppens there’s always Tory to help you.

“Alright.” You agreed as the two of you began to walk. It was silent for most of the walk until Sam suddenly stopped walking and turned around to face you.

“I know this is probably really personal and you don't have to answer it. It’s just-there’s a few rumors going around that you like girls and well...I was wondering if it was true.” You scowled as she asked you the question.

“I do, so what?” You snapped as you crossed your arms to look as intimidating as you could. You couldn’t care less what this girl thought of you.

“What did Tory think about it?” Sam asked.

“Why the hell do you care!?” You shouted outraged. Couldn’t she keep all these questions to herself? It's not like you were playing 20 questions here.

“S-sorry I just wanted to now…” She turned around as you both began to walk. She actually kinda looked hurt. Maybe she was actually sorry?

“She was ok with it.” Your answer surprised Sam as she looked up back at you. “That’s actually the reason she joined Cobra Kai. One time a bunch of homaphobic guys came and they beat me up. Tory was mad that she couldn’t protect me so she joined Cobra Kai. Don't get me wrong I was happy, but I just don’t need her to protect me all the time, you know? I’m my own person.” She nodded along agreeing with you.

“But seriously Sam, why do you ask?” You turned around to face the girl as she stared down.

“W-well, there’s this girl at school and I t-think I might like it. I’m just kinda scared. I thought I was straight but here I am.” You felt sympathy for the girl understanding how hard figuring out one's Sexuality’s can be.

“Well I’m here if you need anything.” And true to your word you were. You and Sam began to hang out more and more in private and next thing you knew you actually had formed a crush on the girl. You weren’t sure that she also felt the same way but your feelings were there. 

“Moon’s hosting a party, If you want to come.” You sister invited you. You had actually become kinda close with her fellow Cobra Kais. They were really nice and you felt like a part of their dysfunctional family. 

You guessed the alcohol had taken a toll on you as you found yourself in the backyard of Moon’s home. You didn’t want to be a part of the Cobra Kai vs Miyagi-do energy that was inside. You supported your sister and the rest of the Cobra Kai’s but you didn’t want to be a part of that.

“Hey Y/n.” Sam said as she came over to you and sat down beside you. You flashed her a  sweet smile. You had seen her with Robby and you were kind of jealous. You had liked her longer than that guy had been now she existed.

“ Are you and Robby a thing?” You asked as you took a sip from your cup. Jealous friend/crush mode was now on.

“Robby? Oh no, he’s like my Brother to me and I didn’t tell you this but he totally swings there other way.” You both laughed. Yes you may have been jealous of the guy, but you were glad he knew at least who he was when it came to that. Just imagine the double dates you guys could have…

“Y/n?” Your dreams about dates were interrupted by the sweet voice of Sam. You looked at the way his lips were slightly parted and the way his hair was flowing in the wind.

“Yah Sam?” You breathed as you moved to be closer to her.

“Remember I told you about my crush on that girl?” You nodded, it was the same day you had become friends. What a wonderful day that was…

“That girl...it was you.” Sam whispered as she captured your lisp in hers. There were sparks flying everywhere as you two go more and more passionate about your kiss. Little did you know that you weren’t the only ones there…

Tory was uspatires looking for the extra cups Moon had asked her to get. She was interrupted by the view of her sister making out with the one and only Samantha LaRusso. Tory’s hatred of the girl had ever been as bad as it was at that very moment. That little rich girl and corrupted her sister, brainwashed her. This was just the beginning...that it was.

You were seated in biology class, sitting right beside your new girlfriend Sam. You both mindlessly listened to the announcements before it started to break up. You looked at each other wondering what was going on.

“Samantha LaRusso.” You both froze as you heard the familiar voice of Tory. “You know what you did, and now you’re going to pay for it.” The students around you began to whisper as all the color drained from your face. Had Tory seen you kiss Sam?

“I’m coming for you, bitch!” You were frozen to your seat and Sam rushed out to go find Tory. You knew one thing for a fact...This was not going to end well…

“I saw what you did at the Party.” You pushed past people to try to get to your girlfriend and Sister before a fight broke out but the people around you wouldn't budge.

“You kissed Y/n.” You stood frozen as the students around you began to “Oooh”. Your sister knew for a fact that you never wanted your school to find out you like girls. But she was telling everyone as she looked like she was stalking her prey. 

“Tory!” You screamed, but that apparently I did nothing as Sam froze to look at you as Tory tried to kick her. And just like that an entire fight broke out. People all around you pushing and kicking and punching as you tried to make your way to the girls fighting on the stairs. 

You were worried that Tory was going to hurt Sam or worse. You loved your sister but this had to stop. Nobody needed to get hurt.

“Tory! Tory c’mon stop!” You yelled on the top of your lungs as you pushed past more people. You saw that Miguel and Robby were fighting on the top of the staries, and that Hawk and Demitri were always fighting. Everything seemed to be going to hell.

“Y/n!” Tory yelled. She had kicked Sam making her hit the banister where you were, meaning kicking you off. They say that falling is like rewatching your life. But it wasn’t like that, you were watching a different life. A life where Tory and Sam got along and there was no Karate War. A good life you wished you had.

The crack echoed through the school as you landed on the staries. Blood escaped from your head, you knew you were going to die right then and there. Everyone stood frozen as they looked at your body laying on the ground. Sam was the first moving pushing past Tory to get to her girlfriend.

“Y/n! Y/n! C’mon wake up!” She cried as your body lay flat like that. The only sign of life was your small breaths and the fall and rise of your stomach. Tory stood there speechless as she watched the paramedics make your way to you. This was not supposed to happen. She was supposed to help you not cause you harm. 

Everyone stood still as they transported your body to the hospital. But doing so they left a bunch of morning students. A heartbroken girlfriend, a guilt ridden sister, Karate students wishing that none of this had happened. But no matter how much wishing they did, you were still unconscious, in the ambulance on your way to the hospital. 

[herenortherenearnorfar]

This Tornado Tolerates And Respects You

A little story about Gothmog and orcs that I’ll probably put on other sites later. But for now, a tumblr exclusive! CW for the terrible reproductive politics of evil (implied reproductive coercion, forced childbearing, light eugenics), orc awfulness, disdain for incarnates, radiation poisoning, chemical weapons, Fingon’s fate, mentions of cannibalism, malnourishment, ear cropping, and all of the above with the implied harm to children.

Orcs, Lord Melkor’s special pet project, a blasphemy first and a strategic asset second, didn’t make the best troops. They could swarm over a target in a useful mass of bodies but they lacked skill and drive. For the Captain of Angband’s own force of fire and shadow, spirits sprung free from the tyranny of the Valar, orcs were a sea of troublesome bodies, cluttering up the field of battle. More flesh to whip through, barbed wire quick, more lungs to choke with lime gas. An annoyance, not an ally.

He didn’t have very high expectations of them as a source of soldiers and there were very few individual orcs who he respected. Gorfaunt was one of those rare exceptions.

They’d fought on the same battlefield under the taunting stars, in those blissful days before the heavens changed, and he’d been impressed by the orc commanders ability to marshal troops. Very few in that division ended up trampled beneath Balrog feet. Even the retreat was prompt, almost orderly, without sacrificing that wild spirit which was one of the orcs’ few redeeming qualities.

When it came time to capture the stripling-king of the elves he’d requested Gorfaunt’s orcs in particular. Once again they’d proven their mettle and the commander had become of of the Captain’s favorites. If orcs had to be stationed next to their betters it was preferable that it be Gorfaunt’s orcs, who knew how to comport themselves and could fight near Balrogs without dying in droves.

Now with the latest glorious battle (and another successful collaboration, the Captain still glowed at the memory of the Noldor’s latest king cracking open to spill his red insides over his silver banner) behind them and Lord Melkor demanding Nargothrond and Gondolin, they met once a month to strategize, share intelligence, and complain about everyone else. To an outsider they might have passed as friends. There was less formality between the two of them than another high general of the iron fortress might have demanded, they sat at the same table and spoke freely.

(The Lieutenant still asked commanders to bow before him; that was why even his own troops called him Sauron behind his back. Gothmog was a superior appellation, less insulting, more fearful, but he still didn’t hasten to encourage its use.)

Despite their surface level amicability and the handful of tried-and-true inside jokes—mostly having to do with how enemies had died— they could bat at each other, they knew very little about each other’s lives. Meat and smoke only mixed when making a brisket, trying to relate two such different ways of being seemed impossible.

But when he saw Gorfaunt waddling into their monthly kvetch with a belly round and swollen like a tick’s, the Captain felt driven to say something. He was the marshal of Angband, he couldn’t let his king’s forces go to seed.

“Are you ill? Cursed?”

Gorfaunt managed to pull out a chair, made for a Balrog three times the size of an orc, and hoist themselves into it with rangy arms. “No? Just five months with a baby kicking around in my insides. The little bugger’s finally starting to show itself.”

That took a second to decipher. “You’re having a baby?”

Of course the Captain knew the basics of how incarnates made more of themselves. It was a topic of great fascination in the old days, when Yavanna was first figuring the system out, and of course the Lieutenant would prattle on about warg breeding to anyone who’d listen. They had sex— another thing that did not come naturally to beings of spirits, though some Maiar had made astounding progress in the field, for pleasure was pleasure and even Nienna’s acolytes sought catharsis and comfort—then there was lots of squishy biology on a level invisible to the incarnates themselves, then a little parasite was somehow blessed with Erú’s fire, to be nurtured until it could nurture itself.

He also knew that orcs, like elves and dwarves, had little distinction between men and womenfolk. Useful when it meant you could channel your entire adult population to battle. Startling when you realized that a key ally had been quietly pregnant for months without you, a greater being able to perceive stalactites growing and the scales on insect wings, noticing.

In truth he’d been doing a lot less noticing of late. His senses were dulling. Perhaps it was the light of the cursed gems, which painted everything in blinding, indistinguishable holiness. Or he was just losing his touch.

If he focused now he could see it. It was easiest to sense on the plane of wraiths. There was Gorfaunt, a guttering candle; wheezing, weak. All orcs had that fire, however dim. No one had managed to fully extinguish it though it had been much suppressed. Tucked against her, nearly imperceptible, was a little spark. Not much yet but given tinder and carefully fanned it could grow. “You’re having a baby,” he marveled.

Gorfaunt’s face was… orcs were hard to read at the best of times, bubbling over with noisy pain and anger that obscured their true emotions, prone to skin diseases and horrendous eye infections that muddled their expressions. She didn’t wear her gas mask around him anymore, though most were quick to cover up around any Maia of Morgoth. It helped little, her face was still opaque as the mountain itself. “Yep, Captain.”

“Good?” You congratulated an ally on a new weapon, a new bond, a promotion. Which one was an infant classified as? What was the correct form?

“Hopefully it’ll be over and the little goblin will be in the caves with the old’uns by the time we find either of the cities.” Gorfaunt provided, only barely contextualizing his felicitations. She was chewing on the inside on her cheek; sometimes she would gnaw until she spat black blood. “Terrible time for it. Terrible time. But the high ups are worried about reinforcements down the line, I suppose.”

Orcs came from orcs. It was a fact so simple it barely bore considering. Another department handled it. The new ones just showed up, springy and long limbed, faces still soft and unmarred. “Goblins” he’d heard older orcs call those fresh pale creatures. Barely even monsters, more like stunted, crepuscular versions of the elves and dwarves they fought.

“How much longer?” They had a few good leads on Nargothrond, a promising word about Túrin Turambar. The Captain could not sack that city himself, the honor had already been promised to the sulfurous worm. Apparently they wanted to test the mettle of these dragons. But Gothmog could assign a few good orc commanders to supervise, make sure the worm was not overstepping his bounds.

Dark blood trickled out of the corner of Gorfaunt’s mouth. “Five months, I’m told. Could be more, could be less. Then I have to wait until the thing is independent enough to leave alone, that’s another few months.” She was probably counting months as the orcs had started to, by the moon. Wretched traitor, Tilion, who’d laughed with them at the idea of running away then turned his face when the time came to flee for freedom. They hated it as much as everyone else but in their hatred they were aware of its cycles. They rejoiced when it went dark.

“You’ll still be able to manage your underlings?” Orcs, and freed Maiar, were fractious. They did not respect a leader who lacked the strength to force them to obey. It could be exhausting. And Gorfaunt was already so round. The Captain did not wish to lose her support over one orcling.

“I think so. So far… in old days you’d den up somewhere for a year, avoid everyone prowling for blood, but I don’t want to fight my way up the ranks again. I’ve got an ax and I’m using it.” Despite that she sounded tired.

Long heartbeats stretched between them, that exquisite embarrassment of two coworkers suddenly forced to talk about private affairs.

“This is your first,” the Captain didn’t reach the tone of a question with that one.

“Yes. The recruiters were getting growly so I grabbed a fellow. I’ve been avoiding it for too long.”

“You don’t want a child.” Again, not quite a question. He was feeling it out as he goes along. This is the longest conversation about orc reproduction he’s ever paid attention to, for the Lieutenants diatribes we’re always dull.

It was no matter to him, except that this was the only orc commander he could tolerate working with and she was chewing through her own cheek in discomfort.

“They take something from you,” Gorfaunt admitted. “Dame and sire both, but worse for the dame since she has to carry the clot. You go… stretchy. Bleached like old bone. I’ve seen soldiers and after twenty children they’re not good for anything but shoving onto a line of pikes. Raw meat for the wargs.”

That didn’t make sense to him, but he was never a scholar of flesh or spirit. He knew how a skull split and how a soul fled, how this matter-sprung life withered, how it died. That was all that counted. He also knew how to value a resource.

“There won’t be any after this,” he said firmly. “Not if you don’t want them.” If need be he’d escalate to Lord Melkor, frame it as sapping strength from their command structure and propose making officers off limits from breeding programmes.

“As you command, Captain,” she said with a bowed head, but she looked gratifyingly relieved, and their conversation could finally move on to the latest stories of occupied territories and the search for the hidden cities.

The next few months Gorfaunt somehow managed to get bigger and bigger, until she was no longer able to swing herself into a chair and had to take their meeting standing. Her leather armor no longer fit and with just a thin layer of rags over her distended stomach it was easy to see the squirming creature inside.

Ferocious little animal. It would go so still and then kick out again, as if it could burst free of its creator by force of will alone. The kernel of its mind was forming too, a hazy bubble of sensation and half formed emotion. He could see what had the Lieutenant fascinated. It wasn’t his field but it was morbidly interesting, seeing the shape of something new and moldable come together right in front of you.

But he had not been made a sculptor or a craftsman. He’d been born a wild thing, a tornado, a volcano, every disaster meant to fell cities, and though he had not known the words yet he’d sensed in his core, seen in glimpses in the song, that he was a creature of war. Like many other wild things—Ossë, the simpering coward tied up in Uinen’s tresses, excluded— he’d found his way to Melkor in the end. Oh, he’d idled for a time with Vána, heard Námo’s dolorous call, but it was Melkor who he came back to and Melkor who he picked in the end.

Melkor taught him so many more ways to be. The smoke, the blood, the screaming not in sorrow but in anger. He taught the others who came to him as well. In the Captain’s little squad alone there was one who learned the slaver’s whip and the threat of fire, one who learned the ooze of pus and malodorous air, one who came to appreciate the ravenings of rabid beasts. From the dragons in the treasure-caves to the cat in the kitchen to the vampires in the highest towers, they were all Melkor’s creations.

Gorfaunt, born and raised here in the shadow of his ancient power, was even more Melkor’s than most. This was how the Captain rationalized his continuing fondness for her as she weakened, his interest in her spawn. Works of the same maker might gravitate together. They could see parts of themselves in each other, the way he could once see himself in other Ëalar born of the same bit of song.

When Gorfaunt came in four months after their revelatory meeting with a sagging belly and a bundle nestled against her chest he was excited to finally see what had been made.

It took a bit of coaxing to get her to show him the baby but no orc would outright refuse an order from anyone stronger than them, they knew better than that. The newborn was dutifully unwrapped and presented, though Gorfaunt’s expression suggested that she considered this all a silly waste of time.

It was a rumpled wet creature; mostly skin and bones, with a cranium as big as its rounded torso. Small too, barely bigger than Gorfaunt’s hand, and Gorfaunt was smaller than all elves and many humans; based on overheard complaints failure to grow was an ongoing issue with their kind. When it was unswaddled sticklike limbs flailed out and began batting at the air ineffectually. Despite this wriggling its face remained in a sleepy scowl. It wasn’t until Gothmog moved one cherry-hot finger closer to it that it opened its hazy grey eyes and tried to focus on him. Even then the dismayed frown stayed put.

An unscarred orc was always an interesting sight; for it revealed the scale of their reworking. How much orcishness was self-replicating, as the Lieutenant liked to claim, and how much had to be beaten in? This one had a droopy brow bone and already peeling corpse-grey skin but it did not look much like an orc besides that. It even had hair, which most orcs lacked (aside from a few lank patches). The fine red down covered its whole body, thickest on the head and face and arms.

“It’s supposed to fall out,” Gorfaunt said, “Everyone says it’ll fall out soon. Even the prisoners lose their hair after a while, especially in the deep mines.”

That was probably because of the miasma of decay that emanated from the ores of Angband. Not macro-decay, of skin and bone (that came later) but the infitesimal decay. Every piece of metal— every piece of existence, when you got down to it— was made of little stars. There was a gaseous center of energy and little orbiting specks around that, spinning in probabilistic loops. Like stars some were bigger and some were smaller and some were ready to collapse. Ilmarë loved to speak of supernovas. The yellow and blue metals below the mountain were full of little stars collapsing, reforming, giving off energy in great sums as they did so.

The Captain had noted the negative effects of this energetic output on incarnates some time ago. Elves sickened and humans just died— Lord Melkor had moved the man he hoped would give him the location of Gondolin far from those mines for a reason. A few of the spirits with natures inclined towards metal, salt, and industry had already incorporated the burning energy into their signatures. The Lieutenant doubtless had some wicked little experiment running with it. It was a part of life here, that background hum of a trillion crumbling particles, and the Captain never thought of the effect on orcs, though they were exposed from birth.

Now that he focused he could see the little crumbs of decay glancing off the baby.

Hmm.

It would probably be fine.

It was already rubbing its eyes and going back to sleep, one hand curled next to a crumpled, not-yet-cropped ear.

“Are you recovered?” he asked Gorfaunt.

“I’m fit enough to fight,” she said shortly, defensively, as if afraid he’d snatch her command from her. “I’ll be better soon when this thing is gone.”

The Captain’s huge palm hovered over her infant. He knew better than to touch; his ability to change forms was not what it once was, he could not stop being a bipedal avalanche, to strong, too close, too dangerous. Even just containing the noxious gases— the pustulent yellow and choking green— simmering inside this war shaped body was difficult. If he kept a few feet distance the chaotic heat of his skin faded into the air and the baby wriggled contentedly in the ambient glow, like a little lizard.

“And how long will that be?”

Gorfaunt’s hand twitched. Another few months, till it can manage worm meal and listen to the grands.”

It seemed impossible that anything could be big enough to leave alone in such a short time; but incarnation was not the Captain’s specialty. “And that’s the accepted practice?”

“A little young, but safe now that the master put a stop to the baby eating problem.”

“I wouldn’t want it to be a concern,” the Captain said very seriously, even though his fingers curled slightly around the baby’s limp body. “We can make modifications if the child must stay longer.”

Gorfaunt glanced down at her sprawled offspring. “I don’t— I don’t want this to last any longer. I’d rather have my life go back to normal.”

That, at least, he could understand. It has been a rather troubling experience overall. Revelations are not always useful and though he’s gained some knowledge it’s not very practical stuff.

“One more question, commander, then I’ll drop the matter. What is it named??”

That nascent mind bubble had sharpened with time and experience but was still comprised mostly of sensation. He could not even grasp at a basic sense of self. The child’s mother should know what if calls itself, if anyone did.

(He wanted to remember the name, for forty years from now, when he needed more good orcs. All those rants about the fundamentals of inheritance left him with some ideas about how incarnates develop traits. Another Gorfaunt would be a helpful tool to have on hand.)

The question left Gorfaunt unimpressed. “It doesn’t name itself anything yet, it hasn’t got the common sense. And no one’s given it a name because it hasn’t done anything interesting.”

“It has an interesting look” the Captain pointed out, “Tell them to call it Red Cap,” he slipped into the elf tongue, which had better color words than the one the Lieutenant devised, and in the process accidentally named the child after a former king of the Noldor. “Or something like that.”

Gorfaunt apparently had a better memory for politics than he gave her credit for, or perhaps just a distaste for the elf cant, because she quickly translated it back into Angband’s crackly tongue . “Rotbint.”

“Yes.” A Balrog, even the chief of Balrogs, could not give much to something so soft and incarnadine. A name, incorporeal, existing in the plane the Captain knew best, was the only thing he could offer. “Now, to business?”

Gorfaunt wrapped the little creature away— it woke halfway through the rolling to stare at them once more— then tucked it against her chest.

The Captain was sad to see it go, though he couldn’t say why.

He remembered that he had come to this physical world for a reason once. He had wanted to see all there was to see, to feel and taste everything, chew chunks of Arda up and spit it out new. Disasters hungered as much as anyone. Yet all he’d had lately was war fare; blood-soaked mud and rage-tinged fear.

Deprived of fresh experiences, he clung to the potential, the novelty, of new life.

Perhaps Gondolin would see him out of his funk, he thought. It couldn’t hide forever.

“We’ll find it, Captain,” Gorfaunt assured him stubbornly. “And we’ll tear it down brick by brick, raze their gardens, fill their streets with blood.”

Even with a baby trying to gum her collarbone her firm tone allowed no questions.

Orcs were, as a rule, bothersome, unruly, walking corpses. Fractious, ugly, difficult, bothersome, recklessly stupid. The Maiar serving under the Captain were sometimes stereotyped as simpleminded brutes but at least they were able to perceive the world around them, even if few bothered to use that perception. In comparison orcs were stumbling around in the dark. They were inefficient as well, you needed three of them to take down any decent enemy. But when they were well made they were well made. Those were the ones that made it all worth it.

It had to be worth it. This was freedom, after all.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: Dr. Alchemy/Dr. Albert Desmond/Mr. Element

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Dr. Albert Desmond, also known as Dr. Alchemy and Mr. Element. Patient suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder. Session One. So, Dr. Desmond, how are you feeling? 

Dr. Alchemy: Go away. I’m reading. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, I promise that you will be able to return to your books as soon as this session is over. But for right now, I need you to talk to me. 

Dr. Alchemy: I am not interested in conversation. Leave me alone. 

Hugo Strange: I’m afraid I cannot do that, Dr. Desmond. As your psychologist, I have a responsibility to maintain your well-being. 

Dr. Alchemy: I have read countless books on the subject of psychology, Dr. Strange. There is nothing you can teach me that I do not already know. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, this is not about knowledge. It is about helping you to live a more productive life. 

Dr. Alchemy: Dr. Desmond would likely appreciate the sentiment, but he isn’t here right now. So please, leave me to my studies. I have important work to do, and no time for idle chatter. 

Hugo Strange: I take it I am speaking to one of Dr. Desmond’s alters, then? 

Dr. Alchemy: Yes. I am Doctor Alchemy. Now kindly go away and leave me alone. 

Hugo Strange: I’m afraid that I cannot do that, Dr. Alchemy. As your psychologist, it would be irresponsible of me not to hold these therapy sessions with you. 

Dr. Alchemy: You are not my psychologist; you are Dr. Desmond’s psychologist. Dr. Desmond is not here right now, so you have no responsibilities in this room. Go away. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Alchemy, you and Dr. Desmond share the same body, and are fragmented parts of the same basic personality. Medically and legally, both of you are my patients...as are any other alters that may exist. 

Dr. Alchemy: Be that as it may, I have nothing to say to you. Go away.

Hugo Strange: (Sighs) If I arrange to have some more rare books delivered to your room, will you agree to participate in the session, Dr. Alchemy? 

Dr. Alchemy: (Pleased) Yes. Thank you, Dr. Strange. (Pause) What do you want to know? 

Hugo Strange: According to your files, you are a very educated man. You have PhDs in chemistry, biochemistry, and molecular biology. You could easily earn money legitimately...and, in fact, Dr. Desmond does just that in his career at S.T.A.R. Labs. Why, then, did you choose to become a costumed criminal? 

Dr. Alchemy: Research is expensive, Dr. Strange. How else was I to fund my experiments? 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond usually asks for grant money. 

Dr. Alchemy: Only because he wastes our talents on safe, predictable work. I, on the other hand, push the boundaries of established science. That frightens the complacent and the simple-minded, and as such, they dismiss my work as lunacy and refuse to help me in my endeavors to expand humanity’s understanding of the cosmos. 

Hugo Strange: Even if that is true, Dr. Alchemy, your file indicates that you are a metahuman with the power to transmute the elements at will. Why not use that power to create gold or silver, sell it for a profit, and use that to fund your experiments? 

Dr. Alchemy: And debase my powers by using them for something as mundane as earning petty cash from the mindless multitudes? Never. 

Hugo Strange: But you’re perfectly willing to use those same powers to steal money from the same mindless multitude? 

Dr. Alchemy: Of course. I am the lord of the very elements! It is my right to take whatever I desire. 

Hugo Strange: You are stealing! Like a common thief! 

Dr. Alchemy: A common thief could not turn your blood into formaldehyde, Dr. Strange. 

Hugo Strange: Was that a threat, Dr. Alchemy? 

Dr. Alchemy: No, not a threat. Merely a reminder of your position. 

Hugo Strange: (Angry) Let me make one thing clear, Dr. Alchemy. When you were sent here, you were, effectively, declared a ward of the state. I am the head of this Asylum. I want to help you, but if you prove to be a threat to me, the other patients, or the staff, I will authorize that you be put on a regime of enough antipsychotic drugs to all but kill your conscious mind. 

Dr. Alchemy: (Quiet laugh) And break your Hippocratic Oath by sentencing poor Dr. Desmond to a living death? I don’t believe you have that in you, Dr. Strange.

Hugo Strange: (Icily) To prevent one of the most powerful metahumans in the world from laying waste to this institution? There is very little I would not do, Dr. Alchemy. Metahuman power dampeners have a very limited effect on you, and I am not enough of a fool to rely solely on your goodwill to keep you in check. 

Dr. Alchemy: (Quickly) In that case, I rescind my reminder. 

Hugo Strange: I’m glad to hear that, Dr. Alchemy. (Pause) So tell me, what is your relationship with your city’s scarlet-clad vigilante? 

Dr. Alchemy: The Flash? He’s an impediment to my research, nothing more. 

Hugo Strange: And your decision to put on a costume was in no way inspired by him? 

Dr. Alchemy: Perhaps on some level. But he means nothing to me. Dr. Desmond is the one who cares about him. 

Hugo Strange: In that case, will you permit me to speak with Dr. Desmond? 

Dr. Alchemy: Certainly not. That weak-willed fool would only interfere with my studies. 

Dr. Hugo Strange: If you cooperate, I’ll see what I can do about getting you a first-edition copy of The Grapes of Wrath. 

Dr. Alchemy: Very well. If I can find Dr. Desmond, I’ll let him know that he wishes to speak with you. 

(Long pause) 

Hugo Strange: Are you all right, Dr. Alchemy? 

Albert: (in a voice that is similar to, but distinguishable from, Dr. Alchemy’s) W-where am I? What’s going on? 

Hugo Strange: (Realizing) Is this Dr. Albert Desmond? 

Albert: Y-yes. (Pause) Who are you? What is this place? What am I doing here? 

Hugo Strange: I am Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. What is the last thing you remember, Dr. Desmond? 

Albert: I...I was at home with my wife, Rita. She was making dinner, and I felt a headache coming on, so I went outside to get some fresh air and-(Pause) Oh, no. It happened again, didn’t it? 

Hugo Strange: I’m afraid so, Dr. Desmond. A week ago, Dr. Alchemy was captured by the Flash whilst attempting to turn an entire stadium’s worth of people into tungsten. Since Iron Heights Penitentiary is currently incapable of holding metahuman criminals, it was decided that he should be transferred to Arkham Asylum, pending his trial. 

Albert: Not again...not again!  It’s been three years since the last time. I thought that the nightmare was finally over. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, the courts are aware of your… highly unusual...form of Dissociative Identity Disorder. You will almost certainly be declared not guilty by reason of insanity. 

Albert: And then they’ll lock me away in a hospital instead of a prison. Rita and I...we have a baby son! Is he going to grow up with his father shut away in a mental institution? (Pause) I should have had her divorce me. At least that way she wouldn’t be raising our son all by herself. And she wouldn’t have to worry about both her and the baby being murdered by a costumed maniac! 

Hugo Strange: Neither of your alters have ever actually murdered someone, Dr. Desmond. 

Albert: No. But from what I’ve been told, it hasn’t been from lack of trying. (Pause) I let her marry me. I knew what I was, and I let her marry a monster. 

Hugo Strange: You are not a monster, Dr. Desmond. Your family members, the police and judicial departments of Central City, and even your city’s costumed vigilante all swear as to your good moral character. 

Albert: Good moral character? Dr. Strange, both of my alters are criminals; which means that there’s a part of me...there’s a part of me that wants to do the things they do. If there wasn’t, surely I would have been able to get rid of them by now. The fact that I haven’t proves that I don’t have good morals. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, do you ever remember the actions of your alters? 

Albert: Almost never. (Pause) I usually end up finding out about it after the fact. You have no idea how horrible it is to have someone tell you that your body went on a crime spree that you don’t remember anything about. 

Hugo Strange: In other words, you have dissociative amnesia during the periods in which your alters are dominant. (Pause) Do you make an effort to prevent your alters from emerging, Dr. Desmond? 

Albert: Of course I do! I take medication, I exercise, I ensure that I always get a full night’s rest, I go to therapy….I don’t want to be a monster. 

Hugo Strange: A monster wouldn’t battle his illness in the way that you do, Dr. Desmond. You are not a monster. You are ill, and through no fault of your own. 

Albert: I...I wish I could believe that, Dr. Strange. (Pause) But honestly? I’m starting to think that maybe I should just be locked up forever. It would...it would be better for everyone. 

(Long pause) 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond? Dr. Desmond, are you all right? 

Mr. Element: (in a voice that is similar to, but distinguishable from, Dr. Alchemy and Albert’s voices) I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong man, Doc.

Hugo Strange: Who are you? And what happened to Dr. Desmond? 

Mr. Element: Nothing. I just decided to take control. It seems that Doc Alchemy’s actions have caused him to almost give up hope completely this time, and that meant he couldn’t put up much of a fight against me. (Pause) Thanks for getting Doc Alchemy to give up control voluntarily, by the way. You have no idea how tough it is to win fights for control with that guy. 

Hugo Strange: I take it you’re Mr. Desmond’s other alter? 

Mr. Element: That’s right, Doc. You can call me Mr. Element. 

Hugo Strange: Not Dr. Element? 

Mr. Element: Nah. The other two got most of the brains, I’m afraid. It’s why I’m not as powerful as either one of ‘em. (Pause) Not that you’d know it from looking at Albert, of course. He’s got no idea how powerful he really is. He’s even more powerful than Doc Alchemy! 

Hugo Strange: I suppose that that makes a certain amount of sense. Dr. Desmond is, after all, the personality from which the two of you split off. Perhaps that allows him to mainline the power, so to speak. (Pause) So, Mr. Element, why do you commit crimes in a silly costume? 

Mr. Element: To get money and attention. Doc Alchemy could care less about that sort of thing, and Albert’s too much of a goody-good to admit that he wants either, so it’s up to me to make sure people remember us. 

Hugo Strange: And the costume, was it inspired by the Flash? 

Mr. Element: No. It was based on our fascination with elements. The mask was so that I could inhale pure oxygen; I used a carbon atom as my symbol because life has its basis in carbon-you get the idea. Albert’s the one who has an emotional connection to the Speedster. 

Hugo Strange: Yes, yes. Dr. Alchemy said the same thing. (Pause) So, are either you or Dr. Alchemy Rogues, Mr. Element? 

Mr. Element: No. Doc Alchemy and I both prefer to work solo. Besides, I think the Doc kind of freaks them out. 

Hugo Strange: Are there any particular concerns you want to talk to me about, Mr. Element? 

Mr. Element: Not really. Albert’s the one with the hang-ups. 

Hugo Strange: In that case, I am going to bring this session to a close. I need some time to reflect on your case and how to best treat it. It is noticeably abnormal, and I will need to adjust my strategies accordingly.

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

Paper Cut | Edmund Pevensie x Reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: Mentions of injury/blood, describing pain, seemingly near-death experience and talk about death, probably some cussing

Time/Era: Modern AU but the Pevensies have been to Narnia. 

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Every injury your soulmate receives, you also receive. When you finally meet your soulmate, you have a few bones to pick. 

A/N: Hello! This is the first imagine I’ve written on this blog, so I decided to do something a little more light-hearted for our favorite just king. I’m also a sucker for soulmate aus. There will be a part 2 for this story :D Feel free to leave requests :) Also, I’ve never been to Cambridge University so please take everything I say about it with a grain of salt lol

Part 2 | Part 3 | masterlist | read on ao3

It’s a common courtesy to try and be as careful as you can when it comes to your body. Not for your sake, but for your soulmate’s. Every papercut, cramp, broken bone, and even every itch you feel, your other half does as well. So, it was common sense to try to be as careful as you could to not inflict pain on them. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought. She spent her whole life dodging anything she felt could cause her harm. This included “normal kid” things like playing on the playground, rolling down hills, jumping off things, or playing sports. Her heart was always in the right place, even if her friends and family called her a stick in the mud for declining their “fun” requests. She could not, and will not, injure her person. When she was around 8, she had been playing with a paper airplane and it just barely sliced her finger. It left behind a pesky papercut that stung. Bad. The small injury left Y/N guilty for days afterward. She has assumed that her soulmate was on the same page as her for the longest time. Aside from a few skinned knees (they were kids after all,) Y/N was left unscathed. She went on her days carefree until she was about fifteen. 

It seemed as though Y/N’s soulmate had completely changed their deminer overnight. It started with a bit of road rash on her palms. Y/N assumed they had fallen accidentally. Annoying, sure, but it was more than manageable. Then, her lip split open and bled for almost 15 minutes. 

As the week went on, large bruises started appearing on her legs and hips. Maybe the road rash fall was worse than she initially thought. Again, she just rode it off as clumsiness. It wasn’t long until her fingertips started to turn purple. This made Y/N panic. 

“Ma’am?” Y/N interrupted her science teacher in the middle of her lecture, “I think there’s something wrong with my hands.” The purple started to spread down her fingers towards her knuckles. They also proved to be getting harder to move. 

“Oh, dear, you’re freezing.” Ms. Adamson remarks, taking Y/N’s hands into her own. 

“What’s happening? Am I dying?” Her entire hand was now numb. 

“I don’t think so, Miss L/N, but, it’ll help you and them out if we warm you up.” 

Her toes suffered the same fate, she discovered during a visit to the school’s infirmary. (Which wasn’t even worth visiting in Y/N’s opinion.) The nurse at Y/N’s school didn’t have the “jurisdiction” to help Y/N properly, so she had to settle for a wet paper towel that was warmed in the microwave. Y/N just wished to be sent home instead. By the time she was finally set free, the purple had faded but her skin tone was not back to normal. Hopefully, the paper towel did something for her soulmate cause this sure as hell wasn’t Y/N’s fault. Her parents were flabbergasted when she got home, mostly upset that they made her miss so many of her classes. Neither had any explanation but tried to offer unhelpful comforting all the same. 

When Y/N awoke the next morning, all of the fingers in her hand had gone back to normal and she regained feeling. Finally, her soulmate was finally safe. 

She spent the day coming up with ridiculous reasons as to why they had almost given her frostbite. Maybe they got locked in a freezer at an ice cream store and had to wait for the store to reopen to let them out. Maybe they live in Antarctica and they got locked out of their house in their underwear. Maybe they were trying to win a bet to see who could stay in ice water the longest. The daydreams were cut short as she was harshly awoken by a searing pain in her abdomen. 

Ms. Adamson dropped her whiteboard marker and panicked when she heard Y/N scream. It wasn’t a normal teenage girl scream either. No, this scream was filled with pure agony and distress. It echoed against the walls and vibrated the desks. It sounded as if she was getting murdered. Y/N fell to the floor and landed in a big heap. The scientist hurriedly ran towards Y/N and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the teen’s blood pooling on the linoleum floor. It appeared she had been stabbed, by the looks of it.

Pointing at various other students to do various tasks, call an ambulance, call the office, and to go get another teacher, she took hold of Y/N’s hand. 

“It’s going to be okay,” She whispered, “You’re going to be fine. Keep your eyes open for me.”

Y/N felt very odd. Was this what dying felt like? She felt as though she was underwater; she could hear Ms. Adamson but her voice was muffled and she couldn’t make anything out. Y/N felt dizzy and sick at the same time, all she wanted to do was shut her eyes. So she did. Relief filled her as quickly as the pain. Her wound felt cold as if someone was pushing a damp cloth onto it. The pain lessened and lessened until there was none at all. 

~

Five years later she had almost forgotten about what had happened. Almost. In the years that followed the incident, severe gashes and bruises had become a normal occurrence. Her body was riddled with what seemed like battle scars, and she was almost always on edge. She had no way of knowing what was going to happen to her, nor when it was going to happen. This felt really unfair. She had been so careful for them, but they treated themself like a rag doll. 

Much to her delight, when she hit eighteen all of the injuries suddenly stopped. The last injury she had received was a dark black bruise that covered her entire side, then nothing. It had been two years and all she got were papercuts and burned tongues. 

“Take a break,” Y/N’s roommate grabs the pen out of her hand and places it on the desk. “You’ve been working on that for ages, come get coffee with me.” 

Y/N was currently in her third year at Cambridge University, working on her undergraduate biology degree. For her degree, she had to take organic chemistry and it was, in simple terms, kicking her ass. Her professor is shitty, the work was hard and Y/N was losing motivation. 

“I can’t. If I stop I’ll fail the final, then fail the class then never graduate.” Y/N mumbles, picking up her pen again and scribbling something down. 

“That’s not true, just come with me. Please?” “I said no, Y/B/F/N.”

“What if you take your books with you? A change of environment might help you study.”

Y/N leans back in her chair and looks up at her roommate. Maybe she had a point, it might do her good to get out a little bit. She packs her things and the two make their way to the coffee shop. 

The coffee shop on campus was small and always packed. The school preferred to call it “cozy,” but still, it’s small. Surprisingly, there weren’t many people inside. 

“Most people must’ve already left campus for break,” Y/B/F/N said, seemingly reading your mind. 

Only three of the tables had students sitting at them. One in the far corner had a girl who looked to be a very frustrated first year, huddled over a croissant and an English textbook. A few tables down sat four boys and one girl. Each had books open and pens in their hands, but by picking up snippets of their conversation, they were talking about whether Voldemort or Darth Vader would win in a fight. Finally, near the window, sat a boy who was staring straight at her. She recognized him from a few of her general education classes. Y/N had never talked to this boy, but he was rather cute. He was wearing a crimson sweater and ripped jeans with converse, hair messily tossed to the side. Y/N couldn’t decide whether or not he was staring at her or was in a very deep thought so she waved. No wave back. 

The two girls get their coffee and sit down a few tables away from the boy. 

“Do you know that guy?” Y/B/F/N asks, moving her head towards crimson sweater. 

“Not officially, I recognize him. Oh, what’s his name? I knew it at one point…” Y/N reaches into her bag and pulls out her books again, placing them on the table. As if it were a habit, she immediately starts studying again. She glances past her friend; the guy was still staring at that one spot. 

Time passes fast for Y/N but slow for Y/B/F/N. She tried to speak with you but ultimately gave up. So, bidding you goodbye, she left to go find her boyfriend. Y/N was kind of relieved, she can finally study in peace. The big group also left, after fighting about whether a time turner should be illegal or not, so the cafe was left with an almost eery silence. So silent that you can hear every pencil scratch, every tap of a keyboard, and every gulp of coffee. 

At some point, the boy had gotten up to get another cup of coffee and passed by Y/N. He was wearing a shit ton of cologne, so he left a scent trail wherever he went. Making his way back to his table, he tripped and spilled his coffee all over Y/N’s chemistry notes. 

“No, no, no, no, no!!!!!” Y/N screeches, wiping away the coffee with her bare hands. The drink splashes onto the boy’s pants and shoes. 

“Oh as- oh fuck, I am so sorry!” He grabs a wad of napkins and tries to blot the paper. She had worked on that study guide for hours, and now it was ruined. There was no way her professor would take it now. Thank god her laptop was still in her bag. 

Panicked, Y/N picks up her notebook and starts flipping through it. Her pen marks were bleeding together and there was no way to save them. Coffee crimson boy grimaces and picks up the notebook. 

“I don’t suppose this was an art class and you could turn it in as an abstract piece?” He says in a serious tone, though the words were highly sarcastic. Y/N lets out a single laugh. 

“I wish it were, but no. O Chem,” Coffee crimson’s face contorts even more. 

“Ouch, um, do you have it backed up anywhere?”

“Ah yes, I have my notebook backed up.” The previously broken ice was discarded and Y/N was frustrated again. 

“You should have done it on your laptop.”

“And you should watch where the fuck you’re going.” Y/N snatches the notebook from his hand. Coffee crimson notices your tone and quickly backtracks. 

“Hey, let me redo it for you then,” He glances at the textbook casually. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“And why should I trust you? I don’t know you and my grade is riding on this.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” His smile was warm. “I’m Edmund Pevensie, I’m in the prelaw program.” 

“Oh, perfect, a law student that’s going to attempt my organic chemistry homework. Wonder what could go wrong.” 

“I’m sure I can figure it out. Law is hard, maybe a different kind of hard, but still hard. I can do hard.” 

“Take a shot every time sweater guy says hard. I feel like I’m at a frat party.”

“I’m trying to fix my mistake here,” Now Edmund is the one that looks frustrated. “Here, take my number. I’ll text you updates and meet you back here tomorrow.” He looks at the clock. Damn, he had a gorgeous jawline. “4:32 pm. Exactly 24 hours from now.” Edmund scribbles his number onto a napkin and hands it to Y/N. As he writes, she can’t help but notice a long, jagged scar running the back of his hand. She scrunchs her eyebrows. 

~

Edmund actually kept his word. Every hour until four am that night he sent Y/N updates. Goofy pictures of him googling stupid questions or him writing. He sent a video that gave Y/N a perfect shot of the scar. Curiously, Y/N looks down at her own hand. 

The next day, his photo updates started coming again. This time they were more serious, showing the study guide. He ended up putting his own commentary in the margins; some funny some that made her think of the material differently. Y/N could really tell he was smart, even by his handwriting. 

He sent a picture to Y/N at 4:25 of the table in the coffee shop. “I’m early” was sent at the exact moment Y/N opened the door. 

“Wow, I’m impressed. I didn’t actually think you’d show.” Y/N sat opposite of him and smiled. He was wearing the same (coffee stained) jeans as yesterday and a button-up shirt. 

“I wouldn’t do all that work for nothing,” He smiled again and handed Y/N a new notebook she had never seen before. 

As she gripped the pages, the corner dug into her palm and cut her. 

“Ow!” The two said at the same time. They both had a thin cut in the middle of their palms. His large brown eyes met Y/N’s and they stared for a moment. Y/N then grabbed his hand and pushed up his sleeve to show the scar going up the back of his hand. Y/N couldn’t look away from his skin; just as she had thought, it was identical to hers. 

Meeting his gaze again, she pressed a hand to her stomach. Her hand rested right above a large, jagged scar that didn’t seem to heal quite right. His eyes followed the line of her arm.

“Edmund, I think you have a lot of explaining to do.”

[bard-llama]

WiP Wednesday: Love Breeds Love Isendain Edition

So, I have a porny universe called Love Breeds Love where the premise is that settlements across the Northern Kingdoms are being founded with the intent to save the elven race from extinction.

Now, for Iorveth and Roche, we discover that the settlement they're living in (Aiseirigh meaning rebirth/resurrection) is dedicated to doing this through accepting half-elves and creating more half-elves, because humans are very good at breeding. This means adjusting their culture as they share it, because half-elves and humans have their own experiences they're bringing to the settlement.

For some elves, that is simply not acceptable. They don't want human blood to taint their 'purity'. So they commit to working with elven couples to make babies. Their birth rate is much lower, but they argue that their product is better. (For the record: when you hear this kind of rhetoric, run. It's VERY eugenicist and suuuuuper racist).

Isengrim and Eldain both find themselves at one of the latter settlements (which I haven't named yet oops). They don't arrive together, though. In fact, they hadn't expected to see each other at all, though it's nice to see that rumors of each other's deaths were greatly exaggerated.

Because of the way I've made elven biology work, it's really important for the volunteers at this pure elven settlement choose a partner and really get to know them, get comfortable with them. This increases their chances of conception actually happening. I haven't actually decided if only one or both get pregnant, but they did decide to have some 'practice sex', to ensure their comfort. XD

I'll stick a bit of the WiP under a cut, but the really fun thing about this 'verse (aside from literally just being an excuse for breeding kink) is that the two settlements have to actually MEET at some point. At which point, rorveth and isendain discover each other and have a variety of reactions.

'cause see, Eldain doesn't like humans and he doesn't trust humans. He's made that mistake before and he refuses to do it again. So he is perfectly happy with the idea of living amongst elves and never having contact with a filthy human again.

But life isn't that easy and Isengrim and Iorveth are still old friends, though it's definitely awkward at first. But over time, Roche becomes the first human that Eldain actually feels comfortable around and they become bros. They most definitely bond over being feral raccoon disasters while their partners are fancy shmancy proper and polished types lmao. Oh, also, Iorveth and Eldain may both be musicians, but they despise each other's genres XD

I mentioned that this universe was just an excuse to write porn, right? So I've got a whole arc planned for isendain to meet up and bond with rorveth, but first, they all gotta get bred, 'cause that's the premise of the 'vese lmao. So this first isendain fic is the set up - establishing the settlement, getting them together, going through the breeding ceremony, etc. The sex is unfortunately fighting me during the 'practice sex' stage, but eventually, this will be a nice, long smutty piece. For now, though, here's them actually meeting again.

He’d arrived at the settlement alone, responding to a notice on saving the elven race, and he’d been astonished at how many people had actually shown up to do this. Of course, out of the thirty elves that had come to be bred, only a small portion would actually be able to conceive.

Eldain swallowed, wondering if he’d be one. He wasn’t sure if he was hoping that he would or that he wouldn’t, honestly, but hell, he was already here. He couldn’t back out now.

Which meant he had to find himself a partner. The notice had specified that single volunteers were welcome along with couples that were willing to conceive, but the first thing the elf who greeted him when he’d arrived had said was, “pick someone and get to know them. The actual breeding will not begin until this evening, but it’s important that you spend some time with your partner and become comfortable with them.”

Eldain had nodded, aware that feeling safe and comfortable was essential for elves to produce viable eggs and for them to be able to conceive. But he hadn’t realized just how many people there were and how daunting trying to choose one stranger out of two dozen would be.

So when he spotted the scarred man with dark hair that stood about two inches above everyone else, Eldain’s first emotion was relief. In more than one way, because this was someone he actually knew, but also, he’d heard that the other elf was dead. Of course, they’d likely heard the same about him, so Eldain shook himself and strode towards the famed Iron Wolf.

When he got closer, it became apparent that he was not the only one who had recognized Isengrim Faoiltiarna, because several other elves were circled around him, trying to persuade him to pick them.

The feeling in Eldain’s stomach was not jealousy, nor was it disappointment. It wasn’t like Isengrim was likely to choose him amongst all these choices. Hell, when they’d met in the past, he’d gotten the impression that Isengrim tolerated him at best.

Nodding to himself, he spun on his heels to find someone else to partner with when Isengrim apparently spotted him and called his name, a little bit desperately.

He couldn’t exactly walk away now, so Eldain turned back and walked up to Isengrim and his pursuers, forcing a friendly smirk onto his face. “Hey,” he started to say when Isengrim grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close in an overly familiar hug. Before he could say anything, Isengrim murmured in his ear.

“If you pick me, I swear I will owe you a favour of your choosing,” Isengrim’s low voice growled and Eldain shivered, Isengrim’s breath tickling over his exposed skin.

Pick Isengrim? Sure, twist his arm. That had, after all, been his initial intent. But he wasn’t sure why Isengrim was asking when Isengrim was the one with the pick of the place.

“Yeah, all right,” Eldain shrugged, trying to exude casualness. He was obviously just doing this for the favour. No other reason. “Shall we find somewhere to chat, then? Apparently we’re supposed to get to know each other.”

The look of sheer relief on the Iron Wolf’s face was strange to be on the receiving end of. But Isengrim slipped his arm through Eldain’s, immediately pulling them away and guiding the pair towards the garden.

Eldain looked around, mildly impressed. For a new settlement, these organizers were doing a pretty good job and getting it up and running.

Which made sense, given they were hoping that this event would culminate with many pregnant elves.

“So,” Eldain drawled, surprised by how much he liked the feeling of Isengrim’s fingers against the crook of his arm. “Seems like you’re a big hit.”

Isengrim’s nose wrinkled in a strangely adorable expression and Eldain bit his lip against a smile. “Apparently there is potential acclaim in having the Iron Wolf’s child. Even though, as I understand it, the point of this event is not about genetics as much as just…”

“Conception?” Eldain offered, and Isengrim nodded, frowning. “So why choose me? Do I not get the same acclaim?”

Isengrim snorted, “you have your own acclaim. Though, speaking of, I’d heard you were dead?”

“Likewise. It was a close ‘almost’,” Eldain shrugged, trying not to let the memories flood through him. He cleared his throat instead. “And you?”

Isengrim made a face, “believe it or not, I owe my survival to a human.”

“You’re kidding.”

The Iron Wolf shook his head, looking every bit as imposing now standing in an early-stage gardener’s plot as he had commanding Scoia’tael into battle.

Eldain licked his lips. Sure, he may have his own ‘acclaim’ in the form of a brutal reputation that was based mostly on real events, but there would always be something majestic about the Iron Wolf that people like Eldain could never match.

“Well, I doubt either of us want to talk more about that,” he said, jerking his gaze away from Isengrim’s face and continuing their walk through the garden. “So, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know,” Isengrim shrugged casually, “fighting, assassinating kings, that kind of thing.”

Eldain blinked, gaze landing on Isengrim again. Isengrim had a little smirk on his face, like he was enjoying Eldain’s reaction, but there was no sign that he wasn’t telling the truth.

“Wow, and here I thought I was doing well with my best kill being a duke,” Eldain joked, smiling back at Isengrim.

Isengrim tossed back his head and laughed, deep, rumbling sounds that felt at home settling in Eldain’s chest. Weird.

“What about you?” Isengrim asked after his laughter had passed. “What’s keeping you busy these days?”

“Eh, I’ve been working as a merc,” Eldain said, wondering if Isengrim would judge him. It was always hard to predict with Scoia’tael – some thought fighting for money was horrific and some thought it was sensible. He didn’t know what Isengrim thought.

“Oh? Around Aedirn?”

“All over,” Eldain shrugged. It had taken him about a year to be ready to return to Aedirn after everything with fucking Queen Meve. She was a perfect example of why humans could never be trusted. Ever.

He swallowed hard. “So, what do you think about this event?”

Isengrim huffed a soft laugh. “At my age, I kinda figured my chances of having a child were pretty slim. But…”

“Yeah,” Eldain nodded, understanding the unspoken reason. How could they not, when the very fate of their species lay in peril?

“But you’re pretty young, aren’t you?” Isengrim asked him. “Is this your first time doing this?”

Eldain hummed, pondering exactly how much older Isengrim was. The Iron Wolf had lived pre-humanity, Eldain knew that much. Most of the Scoia’tael commanders had been older elves that had been born before the Conjunction of the Spheres. Eldain had been unusual in gaining his command, but none of the elder elves ever had the balls to take on the Moulderwoods, so it had fallen to Eldain and all the younger elves who had been born there. Not that there were many of them left anymore, not after...

Eldain shook himself. If he kept thinking about his old command and his old home, he was either going to scream or cry, so he very pointedly redirected his thoughts to his companion.

Isengrim looked – pretty great, actually, for someone who was supposed to be dead. But then, Eldain wasn’t entirely sure it was possible for the Iron Wolf to look anything but gorgeous and commanding and in control.

“So, Isengrim,” he enunciated Isengrim’s name clearly and Isengrim cocked an eyebrow, one that was split by the scar that spanned across his nose. It was kind of beautiful. “What do we need to know about each other to be able to comfortably fuck?”

Isengrim choked slightly at him being so blatant about it, but seriously, they were at a breeding event. There was nothing un-crass about this whole thing.

“Well,” Isengrim cleared his throat. “Um, I guess… I have no idea,” he said after a long moment. “Um, maybe preferences, I guess?”

Eldain snorted, “feels like an icebreaker question. ‘Hi, I’m Eldain and I prefer men.’”

“Any man?” Isengrim’s eyebrow arched again. “Or specifically one who can put a brat like you in their place?”

Eldain’s breathing hitched and his exhale was shaky. “That helps,” he managed to say, and Isengrim’s mouth twitched into a smirk. “And what does the Iron Wolf prefer?”

Isengrim’s nose wrinkled again, clearly uncomfortable with his moniker in this context. Eldain made a note of that. “Apparently,” Isengrim said slowly, “my type is bratty musicians.”

Blinking, Eldain took a moment to process that, then grinned widely, bowing and flourishing his hand in front of him. “At your service.”

Isengrim laughed again, shaking his head. “What kind of music do you play, anyway? All the rumors said was ‘former musician’.”

Eldain tsked, “really, Isengrim, don’t you know better than to believe rumors?” Isengrim rolled his eyes and Eldain laughed. “Mostly, I play the lute and the fiddle, though I know several other instruments. I’m a modern musician, none of that classical shit.” He shut his mouth, abruptly realizing that Isengrim had been alive when those ‘classics’ were new, and may have been attached to them.

Fortunately, Isengrim just chuckled. “You’d probably get along terribly with my ex. He’s very much a classicist.”

“Oh?

“Played with symphonies and stuff, way back,” Isengrim said, a soft smile on his face that Eldain knew wasn’t for him.

He cleared his throat, looking away from Isengrim’s face. It wasn’t as if he was in love with Isengrim or anything, but it still hurt a little bit to be reminded that this was all to save their species. Isengrim had chosen him, sure, and that was an honor. But it was nothing more than sex. He needed to remember that.

Swallowing hard, Eldain forced a smile on his face. “Bet I’m a better musician,” he taunted, and Isengrim laughed again.

“You might be,” Isengrim conceded. “Would you play for me?”

Blinking in surprise, Eldain looked back at Isengrim. The smile on his face was different now, not like he was thinking of a past love, but like it was intended for Eldain.

This time, he swallowed down an entirely different emotion. “Yeah,” he managed to say. “Um, lemme–” he cleared his throat again, cursing himself for leaving his lute with his stuff in the room the organizers had given him.

Isengrim licked his lips and suggested, “I could come with you.”

“Uh, sure,” Eldain shrugged, wondering why he felt like a teenager bringing a boy home for the first time.

Isengrim’s smile widened, and he stepped up to curl his hand around Eldain’s elbow again. Eldain bit his lip against his own smile, leading them towards the rooms for volunteers.

[illiterate--poet]

writing anxiety

In third grade biology, we once dissected a sheep’s heart

Not knowing much of what were doing, our tiny crowd of teetering children haphazardly cut at tendons like loose strings,

They didn’t break so easily though, they, like a fly caught in a web, put up quite the fight.

Their fate was inevitable, the scalpels we aspiring-scientists held were designed specially to slice through flesh

But the heart is the soul of the body,

And a proper soul can’t stop in its tracks for something as trivial as being dead

I remember, even as the muscles began to finally give, and the cuts came smoother,

this spirit didn’t dull, and the heart refused to secede

Instead of procuring a white flag, it produced a smell, acrid, penetrating through our clothes, clinging to them for hours, a hitchhiker weaving itself into the fabric fibers

Regaining some semblance of control at the last instant

As I sit now, attempting to spill my identity onto this page

I can’t help but flashback to that day,

Reliving it exactly, except, this time, I’m the one on the table

I’m not sure what prefaces the specific moment I’m stuck in,

But looking around I can clearly see I’ve been submitted to a future of dissection

Analysis at the hands of overeager students, who dutifully bend over their clipboards,

And begin:

Peeling through the layers of my body slowly, exposing each one to their watchful eyes

And their hallucinated faces flicker and frown as if

My already trembling body isn’t giving them enough material to work with

I’m ready to give out, but they keep digging, searching for more and

The hyper-stimulated nervous state I’m in refuses to let me calm down

To show them where to look

The disorienting deja vú breaks for a moment and I see that each motion of the dissection

Perfectly mirrors the rhythm of my real-world recitation of self

Every slice of the blade is something so familiar,

And it takes every bit of willpower I have not to grasp it in my hand,

To take hold of it like a lifeline and pass up my turn on the operating table,

To take over the role of doctor like an understudy swooping in at curtain call,

But my defense systems fail me, or perhaps it’s fate

Afterall, just as the muscles were always going to lose their battle to the scalpel

I was always going to lose to the desire to continue

Despite how terrifying it is, or maybe because of it, the need to write is magnetic and although I won’t go willingly, I can’t help but bear the sprint down memory lane if that’s what it takes

By the time I finally spell out the height of my piece it feels like it’s been hours,

And I’m so worn out that I’m almost done fighting, but not quite

I, like the sheep, release a stinging stench like a toxin,

A last-ditch effort at stopping the operation

At hiding everything I still can

But no one’s deterred

The staring scientists watch avidly as my heart begins to pour out of me

Their pencils scraping against clipboard pages

Whispers exchanged as they try to piece me together, better

Their senses overload me

And all at once it’s too much

I let go

And all of a sudden there’s something on the page

I’m too drained to think it through once more so

I take my exit cue

I suppose it's for the byproduct that now so must you.

[grace-likes-things]

Chapter Seven - Something Different

Masterlist

A/N: uhhhh oops it’s been a long time. What with the world going to shit, I hope you can understand my struggle. Good news is I have the next 2 chapters written! This story is still going to be quite the ride so I hope you can stick it out with me, I hope you’ll enjoy it!

Warnings: burns

~~~~~~~

My sock-clad feet are digging into the soft carpet of Peter’s bedroom, my biology notebook across my lap, and a textbook strewn on the ground. Music plays softly to occupy the quiet of the room. We’ve just finished our second day back at school since the Sarah incident, and things are a little strange. Kids have all of a sudden been acting out of the ordinary, some small things — Jimmy S. dumped his lunch on the floor before laughing and walking out the door mid-day — and some more concerning — Hannah O. shook the climbing rope in gym until the kid on it lost his grip. The staff has been seriously concerned, and I think the school board is meeting to discuss what might be going on. 

“Peter?” I ask, lifting my head to the boy taking notes at his desk in front of me.

“Yeah?” He says without looking back.

“Have you gotten any other weird feelings at school? Like before someone acts up?”

“Yeah, but it’s usually minor. It’s probably just a fluke. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s done something villain-worthy.”

I sigh, contemplating the strange events, “I know, but people are still getting hurt, even if it is minor stuff. Do you think it might have something to do with the blip?”

Peter turns in his chair to face me, “What? Like how?”

“Well,” I say, “Sarah, Jimmy and Hannah were all dusted, right? And the other kids, too. They blipped, they’re acting up, but as far as I remember, no one who survived the snap has done anything weird.”

“I guess you’re right, but — what are you doing?”

I give him a confused look, and he’s reflecting it right back, staring at my notebook, “What do you—?”

But when I lower my gaze, I see scrawled pen marks all over my once-neat biology notes. I lift my right hand, and to my surprise there’s black ink smudged all over the side of it. My pen has significantly less ink than it did five minutes ago. The lines on my paper are dug harshly, nearly tearing the pages at some spots.

“Did you mean to do that?” Peter asks, now with his full attention on me, concern littered across his features.

I keep staring at my hand in disbelief, “No,” I mumble, “I didn’t even know I was writing…”

We sit in silence for a moment, trying to process what just happened and all of a sudden a wave of content washes over me, and it’s not a concern anymore.

“It’s fine,” spills from my mouth, “probably nothing.”

“What? Y/N, you just ruined your notes without even realizing— “

“It’s fine, Peter, I don't want to worry about it.”

He looks at me, brows furrowed deeply, but gives in, “Alright…”

“Kids!” 

Both of our heads turn toward the door, and May swings it open to address us, “Want dinner? I failed at lasagna so I’m thinking I’ll just door dash some Italian, who’s in?”

“Sure!” I say, cheery, “I’m up for Italian.”

“Y-yeah, May,” Peter says, not lifting his eyes from my notebook, “Italian sounds good.”

After dinner, once May has tired us out with questions about school, patrol, and lab work, Peter and I settle on top of his comforter to pick a movie to watch, his laptop laid precariously across our thighs. 

“So what are you thinking?” Peter asks, “True crime? Horror? Comedy?”

“Hmm, I don't know, you pick. I’ll probably pass out again.”

He lets out a short laugh, “Alright,” and keeps browsing.

My mind wanders to other things, thinking about my dad picking me up later and home life. And then I realize something, “Peter, I never asked how you were doing after all this. You know, how are you and May adjusting?”

He’s been tired lately, I can tell. He doesn’t act it, not around his friends or at the tower — my dad decided to keep it running while the compound is being rebuilt — but when he thinks no one’s watching he seems exhausted. Maybe calm, but still drained.

He whistles out his next exhale, “I dunno. I guess I haven’t thought about it much. We both blipped, so for us the biggest thing was having to find a new apartment, her new job. But your dad helped, even if May told him not too, so that made it easier.”

“Mhm,” I hum, “And you? I mean, we were both there, on Titan, at the battle. It was…”

“Some scary shit?” 

I laugh, “Yeah, some scary shit.”

Both of our giggles peter out before he says, “Yeah, I mean it’s hard stuff to deal with. It’s not like I’ve gotten over it or anything, but I’m just trying to stay optimistic. We got through it with almost everyone. I still have May, we’ve still got your dad, Pepper, Happy, and you’ve even got a brand new sister, so I’d say things are on the upturn for a while, I guess.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, a small smile on my features. Then I jostle his shoulder, “Knock on wood, though. Can’t be jinxing the only good luck in our lifetimes.”

He taps his knuckles lightly on his bed frame, “For sure, it’s nice not having an Avengers-level threat on the news every month.”

He slides the laptop closer, absently sliding his fingers across the track-pad, but I can tell he’s not really looking at the movie choices. 

“You know you can talk to me though, right?” I glance up at him, heart beating a little faster at the idea of getting a look inside his head, “If anything’s on your mind. If you want to.”

“Yeah,” he turns his head toward me, and now we’re just centimeters away, each breath shared in the same space, “Yeah, thanks. Me, too, you know, if you need to get something off your chest.” But he says it slow, airily, eyes glancing across my face, feature to feature, and I realize I might be doing the same. I nod, and our faces get closer, just the smallest bit, and I find my eyes are focused on his lips.

“Hey, kids!” We hear May call through the apartment and quickly turn our heads toward the door. She’s not in the doorway, thank god.

“Yeah, May?” Peter sighs, settling back against his bed frame.

May now appears in the room, coat in hand, “It's gonna rain tomorrow and I don't wanna walk in it, so I’m gonna grab some groceries before the stores close. Think you can handle taking my bread out of the oven in a bit?”

“You made bread?” Peter says, in a oh-my-god-what-will-I-be-poisoned-with tone. I suppress a laugh for May’s sake.

“Yes, I did, out of the kindness of my heart,” She smirks at him, then turns to leave “The timer’s going off in about 30, you’ll hear it. Thanks!” And then we hear the apartment door close behind her.

“Well,” I sigh, shaking off the awkward demeanor in the room, “Are we even gonna have time to finish a movie at this point?”

He laughs, “Probably not.”

And we both get up to monitor May’s bread experiment, because god knows it’ll burn if we let it bake until her timer goes off. 

“I’m telling you, it’s gotta mean something that I didn’t plummet to the ground when I webbed onto Thor’s hammer —“

“No way!” I laugh at Peter, tossing a dish rag his direction, “You weren’t even directly touching it!”

“But that’s gotta be some indication.” He protests, “Maybe I’m like, partially worthy.”

“How could someone be ‘Partially worthy?’ That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Cap was fighting with it! That means someone other than Thor can be worthy, so—“

“Yeah, but that in no way suggests that partial worthiness is even a thing,” I don't actually doubt him this much, but it’s fun to watch Peter push this idea so much.

“Fine, you know what? We’ll ask Thor if we can test it out next time he’s on Earth. I figure he’ll get drunk enough at the cookout to let us try it.”

“Oooh, you’re gonna try to steal drunk Thor’s hammer?” I laugh, leaning back on the kitchen counter, “That’s risky business, I don't think I want to be involved.”

“Not steal, just borrow for a brief experiment.” Peter tries to reason.

“Okay, fine, but don't come crying to me when a thousand year old god puts you in a headlock,” I turn away from him, checking once again on the sad-looking loaf of bread in the oven, “I think this thing’s probably done.”

“Thor wouldn’t put me in a headlock! I’m the baby of the team, he adores me.”

“First of all, I thought I was the baby of the team, and second, I am totally telling my dad that you took that title—“

“Y/N—“

“Nuh uh, you claimed it! I’m gonna make him give you shit for it—“

“No, Y/N, the—“

And then I feel the searing pain radiating across my entire left palm, down my fingers. A yelp of pain escapes me, and I look down in shock, dropping the bread pan out of my bare hand.

“What the hell?” Peter exclaims quickly as he darts around the counter, shutting the oven door and guiding me quickly to the sink. He turns on the faucet, and cold water starts running over my burned hand, easing the pain only slightly. I stare down in bewilderment at the throbbing red skin.

“What was that?” Peter asks over my shoulder, still holding my wrist to keep my hand below the water, “You weren’t even watching what you were doing!”

“I-I don't know—“ I say, flinching at the discomfort, just as confused as he is, “I didn't even know I was taking it out—”

“What?” He looks down at me now, “What do you mean?” I open my mouth to speak but I don't know what explanation to give him. I don’t remember making the decision to open the oven, I don't remember grabbing the pan.

“Okay,” thankfully, Peter seems to register the disbelief on my face and leaves me at the faucet, returning with the first aid kit from his bathroom, “Let’s get it clean and wrapped.”

I let him guide me to the couch, where he kneels in front of me and sets the first aid kit on the coffee table. I watch from what feels like miles away as he puts ointment on the worst of the burn — my fingertips and the heel of my palm — and gingerly begins to wrap gauze around it. While he’s working on my hand, I’m deep in my scattered thoughts; how did I manage to do that by mistake? Surely I should’ve felt the heat of the oven, should’ve flinched back at the first contact with the metal. I definitely shouldn’t have been able to hold the thing for more than a second without noticing — but I did, didn't I? Or else the burn wouldn’t be so bad. So what the hell happened?

I’m still sitting there trying to figure this out when the door to the apartment opens. We hear two voices enter, not just May’s.

“Hey! Caught your Aunt outside, Pete, thought I’d come up and say hi— what happened?”

My dad and May stop just as they walk through the doorway, just as Peter finishes wrapping my hand.

“Y/N burned her hand taking the bread out of the oven. Uh, sorry, May, it’s kind of ruined all over the kitchen floor.” Peter explains quietly.

My dad walks over and sits beside me on the sofa, taking my wrist gently to examine the injury, “What’d you do, kiddo? Ditch the oven mitt completely?”

“Uh… yeah, I guess,” I say. 

He looks at me quizzically, eyeing the bright red fingertips that weren’t wrapped, “That wasn’t a serious question… you’re kidding, right? This isn’t just a forgot-the-oven-mitt burn. Your fingers are singed.”

“I-I don't know. I didn’t realize what I was doing…” I mumble out.

My dad looks to Peter for answers, but he’s just as lost for words as myself. He gives a shrug and a lost look in response. May rubs his shoulder in a motherly fashion. 

“You okay, sweetie?” She asks.

“Yeah,” I say, looking directly into her concerned eyes, “Yeah I’ll be fine.”

I have a feeling she wasn’t asking about the burns, but I really don't know what other answer to give them. I don't know what happened.

Tony and May look at each other, communicating silently in that parent sort of way that they do, and I just stare down at my hand.

“Okay,” my dad says, “Well, we should probably get you home then. Pete, wanna grab her backpack for me?”

Peter diligently gets up and returns just a minute later with my backpack and sweater, handing it off to my dad, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, and I can't muster up anything more than a ‘yeah’ before my dad bids the Parkers goodbye and guides me out of the door.

Before I know it, my dad is opening the passenger door for me and guiding me into the car, and I can’t do anything to shake this trance-like state. It's an unbelievable feeling, having no recollection of making a choice to do something so painful like that. My dad’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

“—Earth to Y/N,” he says, waving a hand in front of my face, “Hey, what happened? Are you alright?”

“I- yeah,” I look him in the eye now, “Yeah, I just- I must’ve grabbed the pan without thinking.”

He’s still staring, doubtful, “You sure?” And a beat of silence, “Is everything okay with you and Peter?”

“What?” I ask, “Yeah, everything’s fine, I just— he just helped clean it. I-I don’t know what I did.”

He starts the car, obviously not satisfied with that answer, but pulls away from the curb and begins our route home nonetheless, “Okay, then. Let’s get some sleep into you, huh sweetheart?” His hand comes up to ruffle my hair, and I hum in response. 

The drive home is quiet. 

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: oooooh what’s goin onnnnnn?

[vynnyal]

Throwing random thoughts, headcanons, and a variety of pasta at the wall (but only those having to do with vessels and/or their biology this time): The Thrilling Third Installment™

...aka pretending i can be dark and dramatic jskhdfd

Thk's larger form is not the standard, but the exception. Thk was cited as being "raised and trained to prime form", which people take to mean pk assisted in the vessel's natural growth. However, that conclusion leaves a lot of unanswered questions, most important of which being “then what about Ghost?” In short, I think that train of thought is backwards. Vessels can't grow- they are ageless, and immortal. We know this due to Ghost, despite living as long if not longer than thk, being completely unchanged over the years. The only thing pk trained into "prime form" was thk’s mind and fighting prowess. Their body... well, I think it was mutated. Most likely either directly by pk, or ordered by him- and with the shenanigans happening over in the sanctum, I wouldn't be surprised if Soul was involved, too. In any case, it was in no means natural. Vessels are corpses reanimated by void; neither corpses nor void tend to make drastic changes on their own all that often. Whether pk predicted the vessel’s “issues” and intended to manually “upgrade” them from the beginning, it's hard to say. But... yeah. Unless Ghost goes out of their way to make themselves grow- if its even possible, now that pk is gone- its fairly safe to say, they never will.

...with that in mind, we are promptly gonna ignore that for the rest of this post lmaooo

Grown-up vessels wouldn't look like thk; while they are described as being raised into "prime form"... prime form, to whom? Rather than looking like an idealized pk soldier, it sounds much more fitting that they’d have an entirely different, natural adult form. Consider: their cloaks being longer and fuller, perhaps filling out into something with a more practical use to their “species”. Better yet, they could even grow up to be more beast-like. Feral vessels, YEhaW

The black egg temple is cited as being "built to sustain [vessels]", yet it can't be their lifespan that is sustained. Rather, it seems the egg is specifically designed to keep the radiance from tearing thk apart, physically and/or mentally. Ngl its p obvious, but worth noting.

Sorta-au where Ghost’s shade has 8 eyes, and/or is generally all-around more cryptid-looking.

@ the sharpshadow charm and the strange, 6-eyed creature their shade turns into: kudos to this post, they bring up something super interesting- the creature not only resembles the Shade Lord, but the lord outright becomes it during the Embrace the Void cutscene.

makes me respect the ol’ civilization a whole lot more if a single charm can turn a baby shade into a baby lord.

The concept of finding ghosts unconscious body, laying next to a corpse, while they battle in their dreams. Alt: when ghost enters the dream realm, their shade leaves their shell... And protects their body from harm.

If steel soul mode is taken as canon, just how did ghost and the shade meet? Alt: Ghost may never have “met” it at all, as it technically doesn’t exist in that mode- instead, its more of a metaphor than an actual entity.

What the vessels looked like- or were supposed to look like- before the void. Alt: a story following a child, alive and untouched, that somehow managed to be spared. They could even have a gender. Alt alt: the void intentionally spared them for some purpose, or even out of simple kindness- or at least, something that resembles kindness.

Re: the shade inexplicably having a nail: all the vessel's swords are crafted from “will-bearing rock”- of which i’ve come to lovingly call living stone- and as such, are of void themselves. That's how the shade seems to conjure up its own copy; it merely shapes it, from the ground, using void. And, while more of a stretch, Ghost’s nail being some sort of living stone/pale ore alloy could explain just how Ghost can do seemingly pretty crazy things with an otherwise ordinary nail. Better, while 100% a baseless hc, its material might actually enable Ghost to build it up and modify it to suite their size as they grow older. finally, a logical reason adult Ghost has an adult-sized nail-claymore. hdsfghjfghdsjf

On that same thought: Ghost outright invented the "art" of manipulating- or creating- living stone to make their nail. ...gimme a sec. The other escaped vessels have nails, too, right? Either meaning they also discovered this ability... or that theres some legitimate ground for the “vessel gang” hc. Or, yanno, i’m reading too much into Ari’s sprites but sHHhh

How did all the vessels know to race to the top? They seemed to be falling merely because they had just been born and had literal, actual baby strength; yet not only did they inexplicably risk everything competing to the top, they somehow knew death was waiting if they lost. Alt: pk just, bringing a fucking megaphone and telling them like a sports announcer.

What if Ghost made it, and instead of falling, they managed to joined thk at the lip? What would pk do? Push them off the edge??? Or just adopt them both?? Oh fuck au where they're raised as twin sacrifices. Or worse yet, they’re raised unequally, and one is trained only as an afterthought. As a backup.

Alternatively, pk keeps all the vessels au, only a few years later when they're grown. Pk now has a literal army of pure knights. Radiance is fucked.

Hm. If vessels were fully coherent entities from the moment of birth, why was there a crib in the white palace? Did... did they use it? I have a feeling team cherry made that asset before the abyss scene lmaooo alt: they did, uh, use the crib. Cue a very awkward scene of thk, clearly not a normal baby, staring at wl with like... idk, the poofy baby hat and pacifier. I can’t tell if the image is more funny or more sad rn shdfgfjsdgg

The og notes that inspired this post, in case my rambling makes more sense (and w/o the awful comic hjsfgjsdfhj): Oh oh OH i GET it now. The void is all about "will" and whatnot, right? And shades are "fragments of a lingering will"- will, like the one you leave after your death, but instead of inheritance its the vessels' desires...last regrets.... DAMN team cherry, that symbolism is clever as heck. That took me a while. Kinda funny how a will is, technically, a person's last regrets Like I knew they were last regrets but I didn't understand WHY. Duh, it's because they're literally Made Of Will. They are the vessel's "wills". I'm so stupid.

Ghost, walking thru the abyss, getting increasingly fed up / freaked out, ducking into a crack in the wall. They follow the crack into the Scream Chamber, pause, then exhale in relief that this was EXACTLY what they needed.

Ghost's shade rolling up its void-sleeves like “fuck it, ima defeat thk myself”

Why was thk's sword there? Was its pedestal decayed? Did it fall from their body? Was it place there as an afterthought, or hurriedly? alt: taking thk's sword before freeing them, but doing the mom thing like you're grounding them hdhfjchjch

I can’t believe it just occured to me now, but... as objectivley stupid as the vessel’s test was, Ghost... technically came in second place. What if that whole scene was a metaphor? Because really, it’s just too silly to take seriously. To do so isn’t too far fetched, either; many other elements in the game’s story are better taken as symbolic or metaphorical, anyways. Take the PoP cutscene- while it could’ve been a literal moment, where they just happened to find themselves standing around and took the moment to appreciate each other... imo it makes much more sense to read it as the concept of their faint ~forbidden love~ and parental pride itself. Or, better yet, the scene at the end of the 4th pantheon. Sorry, but I severely doubt that was an actual event. What I’m trying to get at is the significance of “second place” in the cutscene. My brain is too fried to chase down any other possible connections to this theme rn (if thats even what the theme is), but even without proof, the theory smooths out a few interesting tidbits related to just how Ghost could tough it out when all others failed. All except for #1, anyway. Either way I’m just happy to take this as an excuse to pretend that cutscene didn’t literally happen because like, l m a o

The story of a small group of vessels as they work together to escape hallownest. (aka the aforementioned vessel gang hc... im sure theres a more formal name but you get the idea). Its impossible to tell how long it took them to discover that near-invisible hole, the last exit remaining after the king ordered the abyss to be sealed up. Once they did, however, the remaining vessels were quick to make a desperate scramble to escape- only for the entrance to suddenly crumble shut, far, far too soon. The remaining 8 slowly made their way through deepnest, their numbers quickly dwindling as the jouney started to take its toll. The group was nearly wiped out by those terrible, spiney-legged creatures that used their own kinship against them. Only three finally escaped the deep, yet only two made it through the basin- the third, largest sibling, left to fight alone againt a hopeless battle, just to buy the others time. It was in greenpath, so close yet so far to their goal, that the second succumbed to the infection. It was a mercy killing, that nail through the heart. The last, after all of that, finally made their way to the very precipice of howling cliffs, hesitating for just a moment to gaze out upon the still-fresh ruins of hallownest. But only for a moment, before Ghost jumps down to begin their journey beyond this wretched place.

A vessel running from its shade as it tirelessly pursues them, the vessel refusing to put it to rest.

tw: suicide, + personal on main

Ugh ugh ugh ugh Either thk was fully conscious and in terrible pain for all those years... or they couldn’t feel anything at all. The former is horrible, but imagining thk waking up, chained, unable to do anything but wait for Ghost to heed their call? Did they turn their nail on themselves to help Ghost, end the pain, or some awful mix of both? For someone who has personally dealt with close friends and family that struggled with suicide themselves, hollowknight is one of the worst horror stories I've ever seen. And the fact that the story is so personal, so open to interpretation? The fact that each character is so genuine yet vague enough to be read completely differently to someone else’s biases? Its why hollow knight- the game, and the character- will forever be one of the most powerful stories to me.

in short, good LORD THIS GAME IS SO FUCKING SAD

[itsclydebitches]

Hello, everyone! I come bearing a new recap series to fill the void until Volume 8. This came about because a bunch of friends went, “Hey, this book is really bad” and I responded with, “Really? I should check it out!” Now here we are. 

Thrilling tale, I know. 

The rules for this project are simple: 

Each recap will cover a single chapter

Each chapter will be read as time and energy permit 

Each chapter will contain typos because such is life

Recaps are a general response to anything and everything I notice about the text. This includes positives, negatives, and the wishy-washy stuff in between. Despite the summarized conversation above, I’m not going into this with the intention of ripping BtD to shreds, nor am I looking to absolve it simply because it’s ~RWBY~. I’m attempting to be as objective as one human individual can be

However, given that there will be criticisms (a lot of them so far)... any rude messages taking issue with that will unceremoniously be deleted :) 

Onward! 

We open with Sun’s point of view as he wanders the streets of Vacuo in the very late night/early morning. We learn that he’s been back for a month, but it’s “only now that he felt like he was truly home.” Why that is isn’t made clear. There are two actions connected to this thought: getting into a dangerous battle and helping out a stranger. It’s up to the reader to decide which (or both) is what makes Vacuo feel like home to Sun, but either is going to say a lot about his characterization. Is he a Yang, only feeling like things are normal when there’s something exciting going on? Or a Ruby, attaching feelings of self-worth and belonging to his ability to help others? As said, it’s arguably both. 

To clarify this situation: Sun is following a group of three who in turn are following a woman. He says that they were “three goons who were up to no good. At least he’d assumed they were up to no good when he spotted them stalking a woman out of some new nightclub downtown.” Which begs the question, which is it? Do you actually know the three are “stalking” her or is this another “assumption”? Are they up to no good or not? Retroactively, their fight with Sun and the narrative connections to the rest of the plot seem to prove that they are indeed baddies... but Sun didn’t know this at the time. By his own admission he’s drawing very firm conclusions (they’re “goons”) based on circumstantial evidence. I’m torn between praising him for taking action - that woman is presumably safe now thanks to him - and acknowledging that this is a problem with our whole cast. All our heroes jump to conclusions like this and have very confident ideas about who is “good” and who is “bad” based on little to no evidence. Really, I take far less issue with this particular situation and its context (Huntsmen in training sees a woman potentially in danger and takes non-disruptive action to try and prevent a tragedy. That’s good) than I do this trend of characters “assuming” things about others across the series. 

But enough on that. Sun’s plan to keep an eye on the situation fails as they “somehow noticed him” despite taking extra precautions to keep out of sight. From this he deduces that at least one member, Brown, is a faunus because the faunus are much more attuned to their environment. Both due to biology and growing up trying to keep safe from humans. I find the bigotry part of that explanation to be odd. I’ll admit that I might be reading way too much into this. So far there’s a lot in this novel that’s not obviously bad but did make me pause and go, “Ehhh...” Just because this moment draws a line between the racism allegory and (literal) animal traits. Take a second to swap out the fantasy term of “faunus”: Character, as a black man, is more attuned to his environment because he’s learned to protect himself from white people.” There is something to be said for minority groups being more cautious in specific situations, or being wary of how they present themselves to new people, etc. But in this case faunus are supposed to just be more attuned to things 24/7 because of fantasy-racism, which sounds a lot like an evolutionary, animalistic trait that they... already have? Saying that the character with animal eyes and ears can more easily pick up on someone tracking him is one thing. Saying that the discriminated against character can more easily pick up on someone tracking him because he’s just hyper-aware at all times very much like an animal...that’s “Ehhh.” It’s one of those things I doubt I’d be paying any attention to if RWBY had given us better representation overall. It’s reached a point where the way the faunus are handled is so messy that any statement like this invites at least a dollop of suspicion. But I’ll leave that to others to cry “Yea” or “Nay.” 

So Sun is forced to confront these three. They wear masks and “matching silver armbands around their right biceps.” Sun thinks that they’re “just average gas masks” and thus way less scary than the grimm masks the White Fang prefers. All I could think was: 

Gas masks are plenty scary, Sun, you’re just watching the wrong TV shows.

These four start the obligatory pre-fight chit-chat which includes Pink calling Sun “kid.” Every time this happens I feel a tiny bit of my soul wither and die. The protagonists’ ages and the implications attached to them have been a thorn in my side since Volume 5. I mean, heaven forbid we acknowledge that these are teenagers often making immature decisions when the text itself keeps reminding us of how young they are. 

But I digress. 

As the fight begins Sun concentrates to activate his semblance and we’re given a rather strange flashback. Sun, along with his older cousin Starr Sanzang, are moving with their clan after their “previous settlement had become too attractive to Grimm.” Which is its own, massive can of worms labeled with the question “What suddenly makes a home ‘too attractive’?” But we have nothing else to work with there so I’m leaving it alone. The primary takeaway is Sun’s reaction to the move itself. He wants to know why they don’t fight and despite being told that a) not everyone in the clan is as strong as him and b) he has a tendency to be hotheaded (even though that’s presented as familial teasing), he’s not happy with those answers. It’s amazing how much of this characterization makes it feel like Meyers barely read the RWBY wiki, yet he’s simultaneously managing to hit on a lot of the series’ major themes - including the idea that heroes must never, ever retreat. We could easily take Sun’s thoughts and chuck them into any of Team RWBY’s heads during Volume 7 and you’d be good to go. Not standing and fighting when that would likely mean your death? The horror! 

This perspective also (for me) says a lot about his semblance itself. This is the moment where he starts working towards it, so given what we know about semblances, souls, and the circumstances in which they’re developed, I’d say his emotional state is pretty important. Sun wants to stay and fight. He’s told that not everyone is powerful like him. He’d need more people in order to defend his home. Then he literally creates more of himself to help him in battle. Problem solved. 

The strange part is what kick-starts this development. Sun sees a magical (???) tree that appears to him and him alone. It’s “a desert willow, green and flourishing with white, rose, and violet flowers” and it’s what he focuses on whenever he needs to draw on his semblance. It’s unclear what, if anything, this tree is meant to represent. There’s obvious symbolism regarding a “flourishing” plant in an otherwise desolate wasteland, but we are not (as of yet) privy to whether this tree is a real thing with a real, tangible connection to Sun. It would be easy to conclude that Sun just imagined it despite his own insistence otherwise, but in a story where semblances, magic, and gods do exist? Who knows. I hope this is going somewhere because it’s frustrating to drop something ~symbolic~ into a universe that’s supposed to be governed by concrete, magical rules and leave the reader floundering over how to categorize that.  

We come back to the fight where Sun decides that Brown was “both the leader of the group and the most dangerous. Why? Because he was hiding the most.”

Hold up. 

How do you know he’s “hiding the most” when they’re all wearing identical masks and doing the same, shady stuff? 

Why in the world is the concept of hiding things connected to leadership? 

Not going to lie, it feels like a dig at Ozpin. “Oh yes, the most secretive one must be the leader because we all know leaders do nothing but hide things. The two are so intimately linked that I can look at three people who are all acting suspicious, single out the guy who I’m assuming is a faunus based on no evidence, and thus further conclude - since he’s totally hiding that part of his identity - that he’s the leader here. Simple deduction.” 

Sherlock Holmes would be ashamed. 

More importantly, you know who’s also a dangerous leader who hides things? 

Oh, also this guy. 

But instead of acknowledging this we’re offered the simplistic explanation that this is the leader of the bad guys because only bad guys hide stuff. Right. 

I’m already getting the sense that Sun’s characterization - like Ruby’s - is going to suffer in this book. They should absolutely be written better given who they were when we first met them, but both end up being mouth pieces for the weird themes the story keeps insisting on including. To be clear, I’ve got a lot of issues with Sun in this story so far, but they’re issues that I don’t think should exist. It’s not “I dislike this character” but much more “I dislike this character but that’s only because you’re making them do and say really OOC things. Give me back the version of this character we had before.” There are characters I don’t vibe with and then there are characters who should be on my wavelength but the creators went and changed course somewhere. That’s always disappointing. 

(Aside #1: Can we just take a moment to acknowledge how awkward posing and answering your own question is when we’re supposed to be the PoV? That “Why? Because...” is incredibly jarring. I’m focusing on content over prose here, but the prose needs a whole lot of work in places.)

So Brown is apparently a faunus, and the leader, and hiding extra stuff because Sun says so. The two begin fighting in earnest (with Sun’s clones taking on the other two), but don’t worry, Sun has enough confidence to spare: 

“Brown had some kind of martial arts training similar to Sun’s – but he wasn’t nearly as good.” 

Brown proceeds to knock Sun down and disarm him. Easily. 

The fact that Sun can’t land a hit on this guy then causes him legitimate shock.  “‘Oh crap’, Sun thought. ‘I’m losing. How am I actually losing?’” I don’t know, maybe because you’re a second year student going up against an adversary of unknown age, origin, and skill? The confidence of all our characters is astounding to me. Doesn’t anyone ever question whether they can win a fight? Or acknowledge that losing one is expected? Both Sun and RWBYJNR seem to have come out of the Battle of Beacon thinking, “We have survived one (1) battle and therefore we are the best ever. Losing? Never heard of her.” There’s a difference between writing a confident character and writing a deluded one. Sun should not be blindsided by the fact that someone else in the world is more powerful than him. 

(For the record, the eternal exception to this is Toph Beifong. They really let a tiny blind girl say, “I’m the goddamn best” and made it fact. I am, and will always, be here for that.) 

Amidst this shock Sun thinks about Beacon and immediately shies away from those memories. I quite liked that. I wish the web-series did more to acknowledge how traumatizing that battle was (akin to what we got with Yang’s PTSD and Ruby’s nightmares before both were dropped), so I’m pleased to see nods to it here. 

Sun is just acknowledging how he probably should have brought some friends along when a copy of Tri-Hard lands nearby. Huzzah! Velvet is here! Sun should be pleased right, especially since he was just thinking about how much he needs help? 

“Great. Team CFVY (coffee) was here.” 

Ugh. Well this is frustrating to read. What precisely is going on here? Sun is the guy defined by “You should always get friends involved!” Then he ditches said friends to chase after Blake. While working through this decision he finds himself in a situation where he’s alone again largely because his team is mad at him. So he’s coming to terms with how much he misses and needs those friends... only to think a sarcastic “great” when someone actually show up to help him? 

He’s written as an asshole here. Velvet and Yatsuhashi save him - the three baddies use a smoke semblance to run off - but “Sun bristled at the implication that Velvet and Yatsuhashi had rescued him.” Can’t we have one character with a bit of humility? The writing attributes Sun’s attitude to a competitive school where prestige is everything. Team CFVY’s unexpected arrival and their subsequent fame seems to rankle... but we’re really going to ignore that they’re here because, you know, their school was destroyed and their headmaster murdered? I know that people think stupid, selfish things all the time (god knows I do), but it’s a bit much to have Sun be so over confident that he gets himself into serious trouble, get annoyed when he’s offered help, and then insist that he never needed that help in the first place. That kind of behavior rankles and for good reason. It’s fine as a flaw for one or two characters, but we’re seeing this across most of the main cast. Is no one able to look at someone outside their team and just go, “Thanks for the assist”? 

The one redeeming part of this scene is Velvet practicing her quips. I support her attempts to sound like a cheesy action hero. 

(Aside #2: There had to be a better way to deal with the team names other than writing “CFVY (coffee)”...)

As the three chat we learn that the rogue huntsmen Carmine and Bertilak may be involved with these shady characters, the missing people with powerful semblances, and I, who has not read the first book, learns about Gus, someone capable of amplifying negative emotions. There’s... a lot attached to that reveal, but I’ll leave it alone for now. It’s not fair to drag it when I’ve only gotten a passing mention. 

Alongside discussing Very Important Plot Points, the group dives into Sun’s difficulties with his team: 

“Besides, the guys are still a little annoyed with me for ditching them.”

“To chase a girl,” Yatsuhashi added.

“It wasn’t like that.” Not entirely. “Blake needed a friend.”

“And your team needed you,” Velvet said firmly. “After everything we saw at Beacon, with everything going on in Mistral—”

“They were fine.”

“But you’re their leader,” Yatsuhashi said.

“They’ll come around.”

“Maybe you would be able to regain their trust if you didn’t keep running off without them,” Yatsuhashi added, sheathing his great sword.

Sun narrowed his eyes. “I liked you better when you didn’t say much.”

Sun is, again, written as an asshole! It might be understandable that he wants to ignore all his mistakes, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating for those around him - or the reader. Like admitting that he needs help and then getting annoyed when he gets it, here Sun refuses to engage with the actual problems in his behavior. He won’t admit those mistakes. You ditched your team to chase after a girl. No, no, it wasn’t just about chasing her... Your team needed you. No they didn’t! You’re their leader. Pff what does that have to do with anything? It’s deny, deny, deny. On top of a mean quip at Yatsuhashi. I’m just reading this train-wreck like

I want to re-emphasize here (because I keep getting asks with the accusation) that yes, I do understand that stories need conflict and yes, I do want characters to have flaws. It’s just that lately RWBY feels like all flaws all the time, most of which are never even acknowledged as flaws. Which mean the characters aren’t improving. There are very few moments lately where I feel like our heroes are legitimately kind, or wise, or intelligent, or compassionate, and that’s making it hard to connect with them. Knowing what I do of the fountain scene with Yatsuhashi, Fox, and Neptune makes things even worse. Would it be so horrible for Sun to be happy that his friends came to help? Or not sneer at Team CFVY so much? Or admit that he messed up? It’s the amount we’re getting across the whole cast that’s a problem, alongside rejecting other conflicts that would be much more logical for the story and much more emotionally fulfilling (such as Team RWBYJNR disagreeing about anything). I find it exhausting to watch. And now read. 

I did, however, like Sun calling Yatsuhashi out on his own insults: 

“Besides, people have attempted [invading] before,” Sun said. 

“Back when Vacuo had something valuable, like Dust,” Yatsuhashi said. 

Sun whistled low. “Spoken like a true outsider. If you don’t want to turn Vacuans against you, you’ll stop making comments like that.” 

Yatsuhashi looked away. 

It’s a legit thing to call out. Please don’t imply that our city has no value now that we’re not producing this specific commodity. Sun expressed those feelings in a way that didn’t crucify Yatsuhashi, but let him know he’d spoken out of turn and helped him understand why he, as an individual, should care about changing his perspective (“If you don’t want to turn Vacuans against you...”). I’d say this is one of the better exchanges in the prologue, showing us unexpected sides to each character (Sun isn’t just a laughing goof, Yatsuhashi isn’t the wise Asian stereotype) without them feeling OOC. 

We then end the prologue with Sun promising to help CFVY with these investigations. Offering on behalf of his team without asking, that is. I’m sure that will go over splendidly. 

As a final note before I sign off, I apologize if these recaps are... bad? Lol. Yeah, we’ll be blunt and straightforward in that description. While working through this I found myself reiterating so much of what I say in the regular recaps + asks, just because these problems seem to be creeping their way into RWBY’s supplemental material too. Doesn’t mean it makes for engaging reading though. In addition, I found myself struggling to articulate thoughts on this prologue simply because I didn’t know what to make of these writing choices. What’s up with that tree? Why are Sun’s thoughts going around in a contradictory circle? What am I supposed to do with all these lines that grind the story to a halt because my brain goes, “Wait what?” The easy answer to all this is, “It’s not a well written book, Clyde” and yeah. From what I’ve read for myself and heard from others, fair enough. But I feel like there’s just enough here - that potential RWBY is known for - that I want to try and clearly lay out as much as I can... even if it still comes out a bit muddled. 

It’s summer. I just finished another massive project. There’s a pandemic on. My brain is as fried as my eggs this morning. If you’re okay with the outcome of all that, stick around :D

[epic-potato-crisp]

Courtship [1/2] (AjinWeek2020/3)

Day 3: Favourite Ship/Romance/Lover

By: @ryokasmagic

Note: I have two OTPs in Ajin (Tosaki/Izumi and Kou/Kei) and I honestly can’t pick between them. Decided to go with KouKei for this one though. This has two parts, so far part 2 is supposed to be posted for Day 7. I hope you enjoy!

…..

“You’re amazing.”

And ever since that fateful day, the words haven’t left Kei’s mind.

At first, he thinks there is nothing redeemable about Nakano.

He is too loud and gets overly excited about everything, always barging into Kei’s private space. He seems earth shatteringly optimistic and ready to take on whatever obstacle the world is ready to present him with an energy that Kei can barely begin to comprehend.

In hindsight, this might have been what has fascinated him about Nakano so much to begin with.

They gradually begin spending more time together, but then, this is bound to happen, Kei thinks, when you’re stuck in one hideout with eight other people with little choice in the matter.

It has nothing to do with the fact that he actually enjoys Nakano’s company.

No, he certainly hasn’t stooped down to that level.

Of that he is certain.

…….

It starts innocently enough.

They’re sitting outside the hideout, taking a break after hours of training.

“What if we weren’t Ajin?” Nakano Kou asks.

“What?” Kei frowned, “That is the most stupid question I’ve heard in weeks.”

“No, think about it.” Kou gestures with his orange popsicle. “What if we were…you know, normal high schoolers.”

“We are normal.” Kei frowns. He is a perfectly respectable member of society, thank you very much. He may have an above average regenerational ability that might classify him as “immortal” in some instances, but he has no duty to disclose that to anyone.

He isn’t a dropout runaway that can barely memorize the kanji required to graduate.

“You know what I mean.” the other boy says, “Like…what if we weren’t on the run from the government?” His gestures got broader.

“That’s a rather pointless scenario. You might as well ask me what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten hit by that truck.” Kei rolls his eyes and moves his hazelnut-chocolate cone out of reach, away from potential Kou-induced hazards.

He catches Kou eyeing him from the side.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.” the redhead replies indignantly, giving him a light nudge that has Kei scowling, “Isn’t it fun to think of what-ifs?”

“No, it isn’t.” Kei replies, and then relents under the expectant stare. He takes a bite of his ice.

“Well, fine. Let’s say I wouldn’t have gotten hit by the truck.” He pauses, considering the possibility and comparing it with his schedule at the time. “I would have had to turn in a physics project that week. Write a biology exam the week after. Not to mention our assignment in history about the reformation of- “

“Dude, I mean like, fun things.” Kou says, exasperatedly, “Like, you know. The next party you got invited to- “

Kei is excellent at politely turning these invitations down-

“Or like, an outing to a karaoke place or an arcade after school?”

After-school is reserved for math-club-meetings and further study-

“Or like, you know, getting a girlfriend!”

“I never had one.” Kei replied bluntly.

“What?!”

Kou’s shocked enough that he drops his popsicle. It rolls a few feet away from them, out of the shade and into the scorching afternoon sun. He stares wistfully at its departure.

“Oh man, I was going to finish that.”

“Get a new one.”

“Noo, they’re rationed. In any way I don’t feel like walking anymore than I need to today.” He pouts, slumping against the cooling wall.

Kei sighs, before wordlessly offering him his chocolate cone.

“Really, dude?”

“Call me dude ever again and you’ll have bigger problems than this.”

“Thanks, man.” Kou says, which isn’t much better and gives him a genuine smile that Kei wishes wouldn’t make him so happy on the inside.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“So, coming back to the topic at hand- “

Kei suppresses a groan. He has been relying on the convenience of Kou’s short-term memory to prevent them from ever continuing the previous conversation.

“What about it?” he asks instead, reaching for the water bottle and taking a large sip.

“Like, really? Never?”

Kou looks a bit like a Golden Retriever whose owner has forgotten to take him on a walk.

“No.” Kei shrugs, “Is that so weird?” It’s a serious question.

He’s never considered that his social life could be boring, by others’ standards, being far too focused on becoming a diligent student that represented his family well.

“Ah, no, no, it’s cool.” Kou waves him off, words encouraging, “Not everyone has to have a girlfriend in High School.”

Kei doesn’t let him notice any of the relief he feels at those words.

“Some of us just aren’t dating our homework, ya know?” He breaks out into laughter.

“Die.”

“I can’t. I swear man, I’ve tried!” Kou throws up his hands in desperation, shaking his head and Kei turns away so that he can’t see the traitorous hint at a smile on his face.

“Would you ever want one, though?”

“What?” Kei arches an eyebrow.

“What do you think? “

A day full of peace and quiet, with no training or social interactions, preferably locked away in my room, Kei thinks, but he’s certain that’s not what Kou’s referring to.

“A girlfriend. Or, you know, a boyfriend.” Kou shrugs, and Kei feels the blood freeze in his veins.

His friend-by-default notices his incredulous expression.

“We’re in the 21st century, right? It’s not that weird.”

Kei doesn’t dignify that with an answer.

“You’re expected to marry someone of the opposite gender.” he says, remotely, “Unless you can avoid it.”

“In theory!” Kou has finished his ice cream and wipes his hands on the grass, “Like, maybe it’s not that you just haven’t found the right girl? Maybe you’re just- “

“Okay, enough.” Kei cuts across him. His heart thunders in his chest and thoughts of Kaito resurface in his mind, which is more than he can bear after hours of training exhausting him to the bone.

“Are you too much of a chicken to find out?” Kou’s grin is teasing, and competitive.

“Find out what?”

“If it’s perhaps not just girls you’re interested in?”

“When would I find that out?” Kei answers, ignoring the inexplicable jump his heart takes all of a sudden, “We’re fugitives in a battle. We barely have time for this.” He gestures vaguely and checks his watch, “Speaking of, we should get back to training.”

“Come on, ten more minutes.”

“You said that half an hour ago.” Kei deadpans, “No ten more minutes. This second.”

“Is that what you want me to say when you refuse to get up in the morning and want me to cover for you?” Kou teases.

Unfairly, he has a point.

“Whatever.” Kei sighs, chalking it up to the heat that he doesn’t feel like debating Kou on this particular topic.

“I propose a challenge. No, a bet. If you chicken out, I’ll assume you’re too much of a coward after all. Ready?” Kou asks, pointing at him, brimming with self-confidence.

“And what makes you assume I care?”

There’s the Golden Retriever look again. “Oh, come on, Kei.”

Kei sighs. He’s a good person, he tells himself, a respectable member of society. He’s doing Nakano a favor by not subjecting him to alienation from the only one in his peer group and the devastating consequences that might have for his social development.

“Okay, tell me what it is.”

“We pretend to be boyfriends for a week!”

Kei stares at him, dumbstruck, but before he can get a word in edgewise, Nakano cuts him to the chase: “No, wait. I’m serious. Nothing, strange, like, ya know.” He blushes scarlet, clearing his throat and Kei thanks the Gods above that he doesn’t elaborate on the subject.

“Like hand-holding and that stuff. Maybe a date night where we watch movies.”

“That sounds dumb.” Kei replies before he can stop himself.

“Dumb, but not impossible?”

“We don’t even have time for a…” Kei pauses, wrestling with the unfamiliar word and its embarrassing implications, “date night where we watch movies. We have to train. Fight Sato, in case you forgot?”

“Consider it a team-building exercise!” Kou grins widely.

“I could think of a way more interesting exercise where my IBM gets to practice attacks on you.”

Kou laughs.

“Yeah, we have to train.” he admits, “You’re right. But seriously. Do you really…not want to try it out? Or does it just sound unusual to you?”

Kei bites his lip. He can’t believe that Kou goaded him into this conversation.

“If we were, theoretically- “he cuts in sharply, as Kou’s eyes widen in excitement, “To try that out. We would need to have some rules.”

“Sure, definitely.” Kou nods along.

“And it would not cross a week.”

“Nope, that’s the idea.”

“And if I didn’t like it, we could end it at any time.”

“Yeah.” Kou replies without skipping a beat, “Consider it, like…a social project.” He stretches out his hand. “You’re on board?”

Kei has to admit he’s not completely adverse to the idea. He’d pay money to see the expressions on the others’ faces when he told them about their plan.

And also, for some strange, unspeakable reason, having a movie night with Kou doesn’t seem like the worst of ideas.

Kei clears his throat.

“It’s a deal.” he says.

[delaneytveit]

Satellites part 4

Lol so apparently I never uploaded ch 4 and 5 on here. (5 &6 on ao3) MY BAD GUYS, THAT AS ON ME. but um, here is Satellites ch 4! Hop you like it!

Also classes have been going on for like 2???3??? weeks and I'm already behind. which, like what else is new. But my birthday is on Tuesday so I've got that going for me. Anyways, back to our poorly scheduled program.... *  ( part 3) (Satellites Master Post) (Part 5)

Lance awoke again, chained to a bed in the all too familiar lab. Knowing all too well where he was.

He knew what he would see if he were to allow his eyes to follow where the IV in his arm led to. He knew the exact layout of the lab he was in. Knew which tools were out and which ones they would likely use. Knew the feeling of his limbs. heavy with whatever drugs they were pumping him with, being strapped down just in case. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fight back, they knew it too. But if these experiments they had been doing taught them anything, it was that these so called scientists knew absolutely nothing about human biology.

They didn’t think he would fight back at all, or maybe they did. He didn’t really know. He knew he didn’t look like he would, he had always been a person of words rather than actions, talking himself out of or through situations. Situations in which his words were all that was left. But here, words meant death.

Not for him, no, he wasn’t afraid of death. Not anymore. This was war, he was fighting in a war. And people die in war. He’d seen it. More importantly, for many, he had caused it. And he refused to be the cause of the deaths of his friends.

He didn’t like to dwell on that, he’d just spiral again, but he had to acknowledge the fact that he had done some royally fucked up things. Things he’d rather no one, not even his team know. Coran knew.  He'd been the one to fully recruit Lance, side missions that in some cases were more important than the battles themselves. Allura knew the political half, the diplomatic half of the missions, but Coran and Lance took care of the less desirable half. The half that left whoever was in the way of the Coalition with a bullet between their eyes.

He remembered all of them. Every single mission, every shot, every confirmed kill. They were etched into his mind with such vivid horror that they haunted his dreams every night. God, if his mamá knew what he was doing up here. If his mamá knew that he was currently strapped to a table, drugged out of his mind, bruised and beaten and bloody. Experimented on and tortured for information.

Before he could think anymore, the door opened. He had quelled his hope long ago that his friends would be the ones on the other side, that they would be the ones storming in to save him. Instead, like every other time, a druid made their way into the room.

“Awake now, are we?” they asked, he could hear the snarl in their voice. How he wanted to tell them off, to just keep talking until he had run out of words, he needed to. But talking meant death for his friends, he could slip up, and any information was still information. No matter how minuscule it could seem, it could still be used to bring down his friends. So he kept his mouth shut.

They laughed at that as they moved along the room, picking up different tools. It was all an act, Lance knew that much. He knew that whoever this was, they would have had their preferred method already decided before they even walked through the door. He just hoped he would black out soon.

+

It took almost no time getting onto the ship, and by the sound of the comms, it seemed that Keith and Hunk were doing just fine distracting the ship. So good in fact, that it was eerily empty when Shiro and Pidge made their way on board.

Pidge pulled out her tablet and after a few seconds of typing looked up to Shiro. “I’ve got him!”

They followed the map on the tablet, down countless hallways, winding and turning, they were sure that without the DNA tracker, they would have gotten lost hallways ago.

They were just about to round the last corner when something caught Shiro’s eye, and he quickly pulled the small girl back before she would walk any farther.

“Shiro, what the h-” He cut her off by covering her mouth with his palm. He motioned with his other hand to stay quiet, and only removed his hand when she nodded in acknowledgement.

There at the door to what Shiro guessed was Lance’s cell, stood two Galran guards, alert and ready. The more he looked at where they stood, and the hallway around him the more he had doubts about where they actually were.

“Pidge, where are we on the map?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

The small paladin looked up at him in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Lance is a prisoner, meaning he’d be held in a cell right?” he asked, earning a nod from the green paladin. He took one more survey of where they stood before shaking his head. “This doesn’t look like a prison.”

“Shiro, any luck? We’re kind of not doing so hot out here!” Hunk boomed over the coms, startling Pidge so much that she jumped, banging her elbow on the metal wall she was standing against.

The sound reverberated through the hallway, earning the attention of the Galran guards.

“Who’s there?” one of them bellowed, walking towards where the sound came from.

“I hope you have a plan,” Pidge whispered to Shiro as he pushed her behind him, simultaneously taking step forward, leaning his back on the wall.

“Always. Whether it will work or not is a different matter.” He waited until the Galra ran to the corner he was hiding behind before shooting his hand out to grab the guard by the neck, slamming him into the wall. The first guard went down quickly, it was the second one that he had trouble with, as he began shooting the moment he turned the corner. Pidge used her bayard to loosen his hold on the gun before Shiro was able to knock the guy out with one punch.

“Well, now that that part is done…” Hurriedly they ran over to the room, now no longer protected. Using Shiro’s Galra arm on the pad, they easily opened the door.

“We’re in guys!” Pidge informed over the comms.

“Get him and get out, they’re calling reinforcements in too quickly!” Keith called, out of breath as more shots were heard over the com.

Shiro stepped into the room first, taking quick note that he was in fact right. This was no holding cell. The table in front of him housing restraints for each appendage, the cart that held bloodied devices that only made his stomach want to rise up his throat. This room was definitely not a holding cell. It was a torture chamber. And by the mass of dark red blood on the ground, it was used quite often.

“He’s not here.” Pidge whispered in horror as Shiro continued to scan the room for any signs of their missing paladin.

“The fuck do you mean he’s not there? I thought you said you were tracking him. Look harder.” Keith yelled, making Pidge flinch in response.

“Cool it Keith, she’s right. He’s not here. Pidge, you got anything?”

The Green Paladin shook her head, studying the holographic map on her wrist. “The DNA tracker says that he’s here. He should be here.”

Shiro turned his head to look at the puddle of drying blood on the floor. He was here, Lance had been there, and the amount of blood he had lost was enough for the scanner to consider it his person.

In that moment, Shiro had never been more terrified. Because if Lance had lost that much blood, was there any way he could have survived? He didn’t know how much blood loss was too much, but he had a sinking feeling that it was much less than what was spilled on the floor.

“Shiro? What’s the plan?”

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Heal Me - Kujo Jotaro x Fem!Reader

"You know...I kinda have a bad feeling about this place...But I don't quite know why." I mutter softly as I grip Jotaro's sleeve for some reassurance. "Nothing bad's gonna happen. We just defeated the last Stand User, it will be a while until the next one appears." he explained, sure of himself. "I hope you're right...But Nami's getting restless too. I don't know...Maybe we should group up with the others, don't you think?" I suggested, but he merely shook his head. "This is our task, we can't fail it. Besides, there's no enemy I can't beat, so stay calm." Jotaro's voice was on the border of calm and annoyed, so I decided to shut up for now, despite the electrifying anxiety surging through my veins. 

We continued walking through the desert, only the two of us, until my Stand's ears picked up a fast-moving threat moving towards us, which Jotaro didn't pick up.

"Jotaro, look out!" I scream as I made Nami push him out of the way, and the next thing I know, I'm sent flying meters away from the one I was paired up with. "Katrina!" his voice called out, as I struggled to get up, feeling sore all over. "Tsk...To think you'd pick up that I was here, despite my speed...How annoying!" an unfamiliar voice, the one of the enemy, roared in rage. "Be careful, Jotaro! He's dangerous!" I warned the boy as I rushed to his side, all while healing my injuries. "Yeah, I can see." he grunted, glaring at the smug man in front of him. "What do you want with us? Are you one of Dio's minions?" Jotaro asked, to find out the motives of this villains. "Well, of course I am! Dio is the reason I'm alive, and I live now only to serve him! And what Lord Dio wants the most is to get rid of the Joestar line! And what a pleasant surprise it is to find you, Jotaro! You will have the honour of being the first to die, and by my own hands, nonetheless!" the enemy laughed maniacally, while Jotaro could only grit his teeth in annoyance at the patronising tone he was receiving. "Yare Yare Daze...Can't get a time off..." he sighed as he got Star Platinum out and started throwing punches at the villain's enemy Stand, that stood in front of the man like a shield "Ora Ora Ora Ora Ora!" his battle cry echoed on repeat, but by the time he stopped, we looked at the enemy, who had a gaping hole in his stomach...But the instant Jotaro stopped attacking, his abdomen regenerated rapidly, making the both of us gasp. "What, you thought I'd come here with a stupidly weak Stand that you could beat with your "Ora Ora"s? No, Jotaro, not a chance! Your Stand can't beat me, David Alhambra!" the enemy's laugh became even more condescending and irritating, making Jotaro try to punch him again, but to no avail, for he'd just regenerate again and again. "Hey...Mr. Alhambra...I'm sorry to ask such a weird question, but...Do you know any bit of Biology?" my shy voice spoke up for the first time in a long time. "Huuuuuh? You? You're speaking to me? A little worm like you? Useless? Who hasn't helped the party at all the whole journey? You, little girl, are just a burden for them, and yet, you dare speak to ME?!" his yelling was so creepy that it made me flinch and tremble slightly, but I stood my ground "So, you mean to say that you know nothing about Biology, am I right?" I ask once again, my voice firmer. "Tsk...Well, if you're that curious, I am rather knowledgeable in the Reproduction System, if you're interested. You're not that bad looking...But until then, I have to kill someone. Hear that, Jotaro? I'm gonna steal your pretty little girlfriend and have my way with her. Bet I can show her how a man can make her feel...Unlike you, Jotaro!" the enemy smirked creepily as he cast a glance towards me. "Yeaahhhh...I have a better idea..." I mutter as I prepare myself for the worst. Jotaro went to attack David once again, very irritated for having disrespected me, but as before, he couldn't do much damage. “Can't you see it's futile? Jotaro, stop trying, and I'll give you a painless death!" Alhambra yelled, and as he readied himself to throw a punch towards Jotaro, I rushed in front of him, parrying the punch with my crossed arms, slamming into Jotaro's chest. "Jotaro...Please let me handle this. Mr.Alhambra, I will be your opponent." I rub my forearm slightly, before stepping towards him. "Katrina...!" Jotaro's voice called out, but I merely shook my head. "Do you trust me, Jotaro?" I ask, turning my head slightly, making eye contact for a little while, something I've never been able to do before. "...Yare Yare Daze. Very well, I'll wait here." he tipped the front of his hat, and that's how I knew he fully believed in me. "You know...Whenever you'd say that, I'd automatically feel at ease, because I knew you had everything under control. Thank you for believing in me. I won't disappoint you." I smiled softly at him, before turning my gaze to the enemy. "You know...I always hated fighting women...Y'all are so weak and whiny...But fine, be that way. Maybe you want to make sure I'm a man worth it. Very well, prepare yourself." he laughed once again, as I jumped out of the way so our fight wouldn't get anywhere near Jotaro.

From then on, I let out my Stand, Nami, and touching our hands together, we fuse, letting her powers go through me, droplets of water floating around, despite the never-ending desert surrounding us. I rushed forward, ready to strike, and I kept punching his stomach over and over again, but he wouldn't budge... And he was laughing. "Your punches tickle me, woman. What are you trying to do? Tickle me to death? Come on, I want a real challenge, not a cat fight!" his voice roared with anger all of a sudden, and all of a sudden, I find myself flying once again, a kick on the stomach sending me far away. 

My breath was taken away, and I was struggling to find oxygen, all whilst coughing blood and clutching my stomach, barely able to get up.

"What is it, little girl? Need Daddy to help you up?" he mocked me, prowling towards me like a predator towards his prey. "Maybe it will be you who needs help getting up soon..." I mutter as I finally managed to get up and stay in a fight-stand. 

It was difficult fighting through the aching pain that was burning my muscles, but I lunged myself towards him, punching the same spot once again,counting the number of times I was able to touch him, which really seemed to annoy him, for he punched my face this time, making me fall to the ground once again. 

"Honestly, is this what you want to do? Piss me off? Now you're all messed up and ugly! How lame!" he groaned, kicking my ribs harshly. "Come on, get up! Get up! You really piss me off, woman! I HATE weaklings!" David screamed once again, kicking me repeatedly to the ground, before he turned around harshly, striding towards Jotaro. "Heh...This is fun..." I cough, seeing the blood all over the sand around me, as I struggled to get up. "Huuuh? You're still getting up?" he sneered at me, but I could only smirk in amusement. "My plan is almost done...I just need...1 more..." I coughed up a bit, before channeling my powers to rush in front of Jotaro, as the enemy was going to attack him. 

I was drained of all physical power, not exactly used to fighting with my own body, but it had to be done- The last punch I managed to land on his stomach was more of a soft touch, as my energy was drained, but I was able to say one last thing, as I looked up at him with a bloody smirk. 

 "50."

"Huuuuuh? 50? What the hell is that about? What, you're happy you managed to touch me so much, or what?" he was so angry...So so very angry...But he had no way of defeating me anymore. "Remember when I asked if you knew Biology? Well, if you didn't know, cells have this ability to regenerate for a set number of times, before they stop doing that altogether. Your Stand is able to regenerate your wounds faster, but you aren't Dio, a Vampire, so your cells are still human. Basically, your cells can regenerate 50 times at a time only before they die. It's called a set death." I chuckled condescendingly as I raise my gaze towards him, panting for air. "Yeah, I know that, so what?!" he roared at me, but I stood my ground. "You say my powers are useless in a fight...Well, I suppose that's true, to some extent, but my power is basically a healing water type...And it accelerates mitotic cellular regeneration. Which, if you didn't realise that by now, I touched you 50 times in the same spot so you will stop regenerating that place. Pretty smart, don't you think?" I smirked, as David got so angry. "WHAT THE HELL, WOMAN, ARE YOU INSANE?! YOU BITCH, YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFEAT ME WITH SOME CHEAP TRICKS LIKE THAT?! I'LL FUCKING CRUSH YOU!!" he jumped to lunge at me, but I stepped forward, leaning backwards dramatically, as I created two big water serpents from my hands that sprung through his stomach, impaling him. "Heh...Well, I guess I kinda lied. I wouldn't come here unless I was able to fight. I would feel bad if I were to drag these guys down, you know? But hey, you'll die now, so guess what, you got defeated by your own ego. Toodles!" I chuckled as I let the water disappear, as he fell down on the sand, lifeless. I slowly walked towards him, checking for a pulse, and when I found none, I got up and went next to Jotaro, smiling softly. "Well...I guess this was a bit messies than I hoped for, but it did the trick, right?" I let out an amused breath, as he shook his head. "Yare Yare Daze...You really are something...Come here." he sighed, taking out a napkin from his pocket, and putting a hand on my face, while he wiped the blood from my face with the other. "Thank you, Jotaro. You really are the best." I give him a close-eyed smile, putting my hand over his, but the thing that shocked me most was...A kiss on my forehead, which made me snap my eyes open in shock, my cheeks getting gradually rosy. "Let's get you fixed up, you've done more than enough for today. Well done, Kat. Thank you." Jotaro said simply as he picked me up bridal style, which made me feel so shy all of a sudden. "Y-You don't have to...! I-I can walk a-and I can heal myself, d-don't worry about me!" I stuttered, hiding my face with my hands. His only response was a soft chuckle, and knowing I couldn't argue, I sighed and wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes, feeling at ease with him near me. 

It didn't take long for us to get back to the hotel, and reaching my room, he puts me gently on the bed, taking the first aid kit.

"Come on...That's unnecessary. It'll be much faster and efficient my way." I scratch the back of my head awkwardly. "Honestly...Can't I get an excuse to stay around you?" he flicked me on the forehead, with the ghost of a smile plastered on his face. "You don't need an excuse. You can hang around me with no reason at all, and it will still be enjoyable. I-I mean, not that I'm trying to sound patronising or anything!" I freak out slightly, realising how bad it sounded, but his response was...Shocking. I felt his rough hands on my face drawing me closer, as he shut me up with a gentle kiss. "You talk too much" he muttered, his gaze shifting slightly to the size, as his pale cheeks got a shade pinker. "And you talk too little." I smiled softly, looking down at my lap, before making eye contact with him. When we got past the original shyness, we lay in bed, his arm wrapped around me, as my head leaned on his chest, and I could finally relax after such a long day. And feeling Jotaro's warmth and his heart's rhythmic beating made me feel so at ease that I didn't realise when I fell asleep in him embrace. 

[twig-wig]

Even though I often don’t feel confident enough to use my own words to support the causes I believe in, I try to make sure I share the words of other people to my small audience. However, I feel I can’t stay silent on the issue that is currently brewing with J.K. Rowling at the centre. I’m not the most eloquent and this has turned out much longer than intended, and probably quite disjointed. But the transgender community is near and dear to my heart. I can no longer be content with standing by and allow other people to speak. I need to add my voice to the conversation.

I was born and grew up as a girl with a different name. My parents were both kind and accepting people, encouraging me to be who I wanted to be. Even if society tried to push me into a box they never did. As a child I saw myself as a tomboy; I enjoyed playing guitar, masculine clothing, and getting down and dirty at Scouts. I hit puberty young and that was when my inner turmoil started. I saw myself as ‘one of the boys’ and the changes happening to my body weren’t welcome ones. This started an ongoing battle with my self image that I am still fighting today but thankfully I feel I am finally winning. As I met more people in my teenage years I outgrew my ‘one of the boys’ mindset and tried to embrace my female-ness, but something still didn’t feel right. Eventually in the summer of 2017, aged 19, I came out as transgender. I had been using the name Finn online for a while at that point and chose that as my new name, started using male pronouns, and started binding and looking into medical transition. I spoke to two gender therapists over the following years and was officially diagnosed with gender dysphoria. I was also recommended for hormone treatment as that was what I had expressed an interest in and was going to be able to start that as soon as I was ready. Around the same time I was offered hormones I met my current boyfriend who helped me get more comfortable with myself and I paused to think about my identity. In the years I have been with him I have since come to realise that whilst I don’t identify as a transgender man, I do still experience gender dysphoria and believe that I would be happiest somewhere in the middle. There are aspects of my body that I am uncomfortable with in a way that only transgender people will understand. It’s not simply the uncomfortable facts of being human such as body hair and odour or the pain of menstruation. It feels tangibly wrong. This isn’t how my body is meant to be or to function and it makes me feel so awful that it transcends the issue of body positivity many people face.

Socially I am a detransitioned transgender man. If you were to ask people would call me a girl and refer to me with she/her pronouns, however, in an ideal world that is not how I would be perceived. I have a great deal of anxiety in social situations and I am not brave enough to request that the people I meet use neutral pronouns for me and avoid referring to me as male/female, nor am I brave enough to ask that of even my friends. I have made my peace with the words that people use for me as I hope that one day when my physical appearance aligns more with how I feel inside and the world has progressed to be more accepting of non-binary people I can garner the courage to claim that part of my identity.

The reason I feel the need to put this out there is that J.K. Rowling has taken it upon herself, a cisgender woman, to speak for the trans community and proclaim that the most vocal portion of the community is damaging. My years spent as a trangender male have made me stronger, more confident, and more aware of who I am and how I identify. They were not a mistake, they were a part of my growth as a person. My struggle with my gender identity has been long and hard. I’ve fallen on many sides of the debate through the years, even holding views at one point that were transphobic. Which is exactly why I feel qualified to tell J.K. Rowling and others like her that they are wrong.

Rowling thinks that the transgender movement is aiming to “erode the legal definition of sex and replace it with gender”. This couldn’t be further from the truth. I cannot speak for all transgender individuals, we are a varied group with a myriad of opinions, but the main push is for sex to not be the defining characteristic on legal documentation. Why do our drivers licenses or passports need to make people aware of the chromosomes we likely possess, or the genitals we were born with? They don’t. It is none of Rowling’s, or anyone else's, business that I was born female. It is an unfortunate reality for transgender people that, no matter how far they medically transition, their body may never be exactly how it would be for someone born male/female. Sex is biological, it is how you are born. You may be male, female, or be born with something that makes it harder to define your sex such as Klinefelter’s or Turner’s. That biological fact you are born with is not of importance to anyone but your doctor. The only thing that the law and anyone else should be interested in is your gender, how you identify, and this is what we wanted reflected on legal documentation. She also laments how easy it is to get a gender recognition certificate now, that you only need identify as a woman/man to get it changed and, *gasp*, you don’t even need to medically transition! But that is exactly how it should be. Medical transition is not a requirement. Some people may choose not to and some people may not be able to. It does not make them any less who they say they are. And again, who cares what’s on their documentation? What exactly is that going to change about your life? Absolutely nothing.

She also expresses a concern for a “huge explosion” in AFAB (assigned female at birth) people transitioning, and subsequently the increase in AFAB people detransitioning. As one of those people I can say with confidence that I do not think this is not due to any kind of brainwashing or misguided feelings. It is due to the fact that in the age of the internet information is more freely available to us. As I mentioned, my parents were incredibly accepting people. I grew up knowing two lovely trans women, however for some reason I was not aware that AFAB people could be transgender too and transition into men. This is something I have heard many trans men express, and my therapists both commented that it was a common reason for why people like me had not begun transitioning earlier in life. I can’t deny that the increased awareness and acceptance of transgender people will lead to some mistakenly identifying as transgender. Butch women and effeminate men exist and many are perfectly comfortable with their sex, however some may have issues with their self image or identity that can lead to them questioning their gender identity. But allowing people to explore their gender identity is a good thing. Medical decisions should not be taken lightly of course, and I believe there is a discussion to be had about making sure that we do not allow people to make those decisions without speaking to professionals, but that is a different debate that I do not wish to get into now. However, having said that, the choice to medically transition is the choice of the individual. No doctor can tell you what is best for you, they can only help guide you to the right decision. The correct response to the increase in people identifying as transgender is not to invalidate them and tell them they cannot ever be “real” men or women, or accuse the transgender community of poisoning the minds of the youth. We should instead seek to be better educating our children, increasing the quality and availability of resources for transgender people, and providing everyone with the tools they need to discover who they are and make the right choices for themselves.

Defining women by their biology is a harmful ideology to hold, not just for transgender women but also for cisgender women. Womanhood is not reliant on whether or not you have a uterus. She is right in that it is also not defined by a love of pink or shoes. How to define womanhood (and manhood) is a difficult and nuanced conversation, one that I do not feel yet able to have. But an easy way to tell is if you feel and know in your heart that you are a woman then you are and you can claim womanhood. She takes issue with referring to women as “menstruators” or “people with vulvas”. It was actually the phrase “people who menstruate” that offended her enough to start this whole debacle. Women is a useful phrase, and it does need to be used when talking about women’s rights in general. But the article in question was talking specifically about menstruation. When menstruation is the issue at hand I cannot understand at all how referring to that fact is a bad thing. Trans men and non-binary AFAB people who menstruate need to be included in the conversation; menstruation is not a topic that is solely for women.

Lastly, she tried to speak out for women who were abused that are being “wronged” by the inclusion of trans women in women’s spaces. I understand more than most how hard it can be to recover and trust those who may remind you of your abuser because I have been there. I understand the need for safe spaces away from anything that may trigger you. But transwomen are not all going to trigger those who were abused by men, unless of course you still view them as men. Maybe a trans woman has a deeper voice or more masculine facial features that remind you of your abuser and that triggers you. That is not a personal attack against her, it is an unfortunate result of your abuse, but a cisgender woman may also have a deeper voice or masculine facial features that trigger you. If that’s the case then of course you need to decide for yourself whether you need to remove yourself from the environment for your mental well being. However, if you enter a woman’s space that has a trans woman in it and you demand her removal on the basis that she was born biologically male you are nothing short of transphobic. Whilst, yes, allowing trans women into these spaces would theoretically allow for predators to pretend to be transgender to access vulnerable women it simply does not happen. I can’t point to any studies to prove this, but I feel common sense says that the likelihood of a predatory man pretending to be a woman to access women's only spaces is much less than a predatory woman accessing these spaces. The world is a scary place filled with horrible people and it is impossible to barricade against all possibilities of harm. Barring trans women from these spaces is not going to solve the problem that horrible people exist and protect you from them. It will only harm trans women.

Gender is hard. It can be complicated. Especially for those older who are having to change how they think. But all that we ask is that you respect transgender peoples identities and pronouns, that you use inclusive language, and that you don’t fight against our rights to simply exist in this world with the right name and gender on our papers. It’s really not that hard to just be a decent person.

[ayma-nidiot]

“Don’t Speak Their Names” - Shrimpshipping fic Chapter 29

This chapter can be found here on AO3.

Author’s Note: This chapter will have implied Prideshipping, as will a small number of subsequent chapters. I will put warnings for when that happens.

Also suicide TW.

Chapter 29 - Peacemaker

~29 November 2005~ 

“Ugh, Doc, can I leave yet?” Rex whined after Dr. Balls had just finished a checkup at the off-campus hospital. “I feel like I’ve spent most of my college life in the hospital. I’ve already been here long enough when I had morning sickness. I wanna go have fun like every other freshman.”

“Unfortunately, that’s what happens when you’re about to have a child, young man,” Ptera spoke sternly. “You’re about to become a mom, and you need to act like it. You need to be a good role model for your daughter, and that includes not treating college like it’s a place just to go party.”

“Nag, nag. I got all my homework and projects done, didn’t I? I even got an A on one of my tests for biology class. I’ve never done that before! And while I’m hospital-bound too! Aren’t you proud of me, Mom?”

Ptera ruffled her son’s hair. “Well, I suppose I can’t expect you to turn into mom of the year overnight. But work on it, okay?”

Dr. Balls spoke up, “As your doctor, I won’t try to parent you. But I will say that you are good to go after today.”

“What, really?” Rex would have jumped out of bed if Ptera didn’t hold him down in it.

“Yes, but do not push yourself too hard - mentally or physically. Even though you’ve only got four weeks left in your pregnancy, it’s in your baby’s best interest to avoid going into labour early. And you need to tell me if anything - and I mean literally anything - goes awry. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, Doc. If he forgets, you can be sure that I’ll remember.”

“Much faith in me, Mom. Much faith.”

“Papa! Papa!” Amber could be heard shouting all the way from the first floor, along with the stomps of dozens of soldiers.

“Hey!” Dr. Balls shouted down the hallway. “No running in the hospital! I don’t care who you are!”

“I’m so sorry, Doc.” Amber bowed before talking to her mother. “Papa, I’ve just-”

“Not another word, young lady!” Ptera got up, noticing before anyone else just how wounded Amber was. “Look at your arm! And… Is that a broken arrow sticking out of your butt?”

“Amber, please…”

Amber wouldn’t let Dr. Balls or her grandmother sway her. “After almost a month, we finally cornered two of the Earthbound Gods, Wiraqocha Rasca and Ccarayhua! But… But… Hah…”

“DOWN.” Ptera demanded as Amber reluctantly knelt while Dr. Balls tended to her arrow wound. “Now, then, you were saying?”

“Ngh…!” Even though she had a high pain tolerance, Amber nearly cried when she felt alcohol enter her wounds. “They found out what my intentions were before I even revealed myself. There were too many strong monsters... As a result, I’ve already lost some of my men. I intend to go back to the hideout I’ve found once I’ve gathered the rest of the army.”

“I feel like I’ve heard that second funky name somewhere…” Rex looked to the ceiling before deciding that, indeed, he hadn’t actually heard the name. “Eh. Must be my imagination.”

Just then, the building shook so hard, small pieces of rubble rolled into Rex’s room. “Don’t tell me that that’s your imagination too?” Amber yelled as she half-shifted, even before Dr. Balls finished treating her.  “Tch! Looks like those Earthbound Gods found us. ”

“I’m still concerned, but I’m confident that you’ll heal quickly.” Dr. Balls opened a safe in his office, which held his Gravity Axe - Grarl. “Know that I am on your side.”

“All this time, I had no idea… Er, I mean, thanks for the help.”

“I… I can fight too!” Rex stumbled on his way out of bed. “Whoa!”

“Get back in there, you.” Ptera growled.

“That’s right,” Dr. Balls added. “I said you’re good to go starting tomorrow. You shouldn’t be fighting when you’re this close to your due date. Besides, you’re not an especially strong monster; what do you honestly think you could accomplish out there?”

“How dare you?! I’ve still got my Duel Disk and my duelin’ dinos - Urk!” Though he was in far less pain than he was a month ago, Rex was still extremely fatigued and suffered swelling in his feet.

“I think I can make far better use of that Duel Disk than you can,” Ptera declared as she put Rex’s Duel Disk on. “Now, Amber, lead the way.”

“Hmph. Buttmunches, one and all,” Rex grumbled as his family left the campus hospital without him.

Are you really going to let them take all the glory while you sit here like a log? spoke a voice in Rex’s head.

Rex threw the covers over his head, fidgeting and grumbling, hoping the hallucination would go away. He swore to himself that he would tell Dr. Balls about it when he got back from the battle, however long that would take. “Well, why don’t you try caring around a 6-pound sack of rice for eight months, then getting beat to a pulp while you’re at it? ...Wait, who the hell are you, anyway? Another hallucination?”

Please, listen… I am not a hallucination. Rex Leonidas Raptor, hear my plea. You must get out there and talk to Earthbound God Ccarayhua. She doesn’t really want to fight.

“Apparently, you weren’t listening to the part that I said I was eight months pregnant! And you really have no idea who you’re talking to, so let me remind you. I am a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kind of guy - a.k.a. I do not ‘talk’ my way out of my problems.”

But your boyfriend, Weevil, is coming, spoke another voice.

Rex froze at the mention of Weevil’s name, and dug himself even further into the bedsheets. “I… I know I’ll have to face him eventually, but… I can’t do it - physically or emotionally. And even if I don’t fight him, someone might kill him before my eyes…” Rex hugged the sheets around him more tightly. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

Just trust us, spoke a third voice. We will protect you.

“...” After a long contemplation, Rex gave in, slowly lowering his feet onto the floor and using the wall as a crutch on his way out. His unborn child squirmed, not allowing him to walk any faster than a snail’s pace. “Okay, but I’ll never forgive you if something happens to either me or my baby!”

While Rex trudged towards the hospital exit, Dr. Balls and his ‘gang’ ran down the long main corridor. “I’ve only read about the eight Earthbound Gods,” he remarked. “I thought they were just a legend. If they’re real and as powerful as I think they are… We’ve got quite a battle on our hands.”

“Yes, but thankfully, we have to deal with only two of them for now,” Amber answered.

“You’ve got quite a battle on your hands, hmm?” spoke a voice, whose source had already summoned his monsters. “Why don’t we help you with that a little bit?”

“Joey! Everyone!” Looking past her family and the Club members, Amber saw her mother’s Red-Eyes Black Dragon defeating some of the lesser enemies already. “...You better not let anything happen to Papa’s Red-Eyes, you hear?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Joey stood back-to-back with Mai as the latter had three of her Harpie Ladies in front of her. 

“These guys…” Mai used her Harpie Lady Phoenix Formation spell; even then, the onslaugh of the enemies seemed endless. “Is it just me, or are they even tougher than last time?”

“So you’re admitting your own weakness?” Joey chuckled.

“Speak for yourself!” Mai scoffed as Joey’s Iron Knight Gearfried fell.

“Okay, okay… Say, Mai. I know I’ve been chicken about it, but…”

“Less talk and more fighting, Joey!” Mai barely dodged out of the way so she could summon her Harpie’s Pet Dragon too, while Joey summoned Gilford the Lightning and Jinzo.

“Joey…” Amber could still fight well enough, even though she stopped to talk to Joey. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t told her in the past month!”

“Told me what? N-Never mind, it can- Ouch!” While running, Mai tripped on a rock, and her three Harpie Ladies perished trying to protect her.

“Mai!” His monsters were already fending off some strong monsters, and Joey had no room left on his Duel Disk to summon more. So without thinking, he jumped in front of Mai to shield her from a direct Cyber Dragon attack. “Aaaaah!” 

“Joey…” Mai still remained unwounded, but Joey suffered abrasions all over his body. While she spoke to Joey, Téa’s and Tristan’s monsters protected them. “You idiot… You could have used your monsters like every other damned duelist on this battlefield!”

“I know what I said about Red-Eyes, but I wouldn’t have minded if you used it to protect Mai.”

“I guess… If I’m gonna die anyway, then… This is as good of a time as any to say it… Mai…” Joey laced his bloody finger’s with Mai’s. “Mai… I love you more than anything else in the world. I… Urk! I just wish I… had told you during the Orichalcos mess. Maybe… Maybe then you wouldn’t have…”

“Joey, shut up!” Mai shut Joey up with a kiss. “You’re gonna make it… I love you too much to let you die here!”

“Aww, how cute!” Seymour, as Wiraqocha Rasca, hovered over the new couple. “Too bad your relationship isn’t going anywhere, because I’m going to kill you here!”

“I’ll let you have that honour, Seymour,” Dip spoke as she continued to attack her enemies in lizard form. “I’ll make sure these weaklings don’t stop you.”

“Joey! Argh, let go of me, you fucktard!” Amber had broken free of the Guarddragon Justicia that held her down, but was too far away from Joey to save him now. 

Yet there was someone who could - a dragon clad in pure white armour and light. “Shining Neutron Blast!”

“Huh. I’ve never heard of that attack name before.” Before Dip could study this new enemy closer, she could hear a baritone voice singing. “Ugh… That song… What’s this, my strength is… fading? Dammit, I can’t hold onto my lizard form!”

“Now… Where have I heard that song before?” Joey lifted his head up to see a young man with cinnamon-coloured skin and spiky brown hair. 

“Aww, that’s kind of mean,” the young man whined as he used healing magic on Joey. “After all the battles you fought with Father and Papa, you don’t remember them?”

“Come to think of it, there’s only one person I’ve ever known that’s used Blue-Eyes Shining Dragon…” Joey still felt tired, but could stand on his feet again. “It’s…”

“Big Bro!” Mokuba hugged Kaiba from behind, recognizing his brother’s dragon form easily. 

“Mokuba, now’s not the time! Save the pleasantries for later!” Kaiba jumped out of the way with Mokuba on his back.

“Hah!” Now that Atem had stopped singing, Seymour could transform back into his condor form. “I really wanted to hear your beautiful song some more! Too bad!”

“I’m more than just a song, you fiend.” Using his DiaDhank, Atem summoned Dark Magician and Dark Magician Girl. 

“The dragon… Could he be-”

Before Amber could say another word, Phuckdis and William had just come onto the scene with the rest of the army. “Sorry we’re late, Amber!”

“About time!” Amber backflipped in the air to avoid an attack from Dip. “Help me take down this overgrown lizard, will ya?”

“‘Overgrown lizard…’ Ah!” Upon seeing his sister again, Phuckdis froze in place. “Dip… Is that you?”

“Well, so nice of you to visit after, what? Sixteen fucking years?” Dip set her sights on her brothers. “Why don’t you finish what you started back then?”

“Sister…” William couldn’t move either. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Oh, that’s rich!” Dip’s attacks got more intense. “You disown me, and then now you say you don’t want to fight? You cowards!”

“William, we need to fight her.” Phuckdis began to fight back, albeit reluctantly. “She’s an Earthbound God.”

“Yes, those were almost the exact same words you used! So come at me with your bullets, Borreload Savage Dragon, and run your dear sister through!”

“W-Wait!” 

“Huh?” Ptera turned around to see a half-shifted Rex hobbling out of the hospital. “Rex! Get the hell back in your room!”

“Oh my fucking gods, Rex, you’re insane! Ggh!” Dr. Balls swung around with his axe, striking the enemy that lunged towards Rex. “Are you trying to give birth in the middle of a battlefield?”

“Mom… Dr. Balls… Please…” Rex tried his best to hide the deep pain he was in. “And you too, Phuckdis. Dip doesn’t want to fight either of you; she’s just very hurt by what you guys did to her.”

“And what the hell would you know, rabbit?” Dip turned her attention to Rex now. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, what being estranged by your ‘family’ feels like!”

“I may not understand you, but I know what it’s like to have your family abandon you… and to reconnect with them after so long. If I can do it, so can you.”

“Rex…” Spinos looked at his son in sorrow for a brief spell before summoning Jurrac Tyrannus and Jurrac Velphito just in time.

“Dip, you told me yourself when I was your prisoner. Don’t you remember? And… And how I told you about what Weeves and I have been through?”

“Ggh…” Dip could feel the darkness in her heart leaving her.

“Stop poisoning her mind, you weak cur!” Seymour readied a beam to fire at Rex.

“It isn’t too late. Just like Weeves did once, you can change your destiny. Join us!”

“Like hell she will! Take this you-” Seymour couldn’t say another word as Dip impaled him with a lizard claw. “Ccarayhua! What are you doing?”

“...” Dip said nothing as she withdrew her claw and reverted forms.

“Damn you, you… traitor… Argh…” 

When all the enemies had been defeated, Rex slowly walked up to Dip, but didn’t touch her. “I knew you would come around and help us!”

“Who’d have thunk that the tyrannical, arrogant Rex Raptor would be a peacemaker?” Joey chuckled. 

“Sh-Shut up!” Rex blushed. “I’ll have you know that I didn’t do it because I wanted to! A nagging voice in my head told me to.”

“It… It did?” Amber sounded curious.

Joey interrupted whatever she was going to say next. “If this ‘nagging voice’ told you to jump off a bridge, would you?”

“It’s not uncommon to experience hallucinations in a pregnancy, but if it becomes frequent… We’re going to need to have a private talk about that later.”

“I’ll take you up on your offer, Doc!” Rex gave Dr. Balls a thumbs up.

“Um…” Dip felt awkward being in the literal middle of this conversation.

Joey turned to their new ally. “Hey, aren’t you technically one of the bad guys? Why should we trust you?”

“ This is why.” Dip lifted up her shirt to reveal several deep scars on her abdomen. “After my brothers disowned me, I was so ashamed of my powers that I tried to kill myself… It turns out that we Earthbound Gods are not capable of doing that. However, the incident left my reproductive system so badly damaged… Now, I’m infertile.”

“So you can’t have kids with Daddy.” Amber still wasn’t wholly convinced. “And you think that’s a good enough reason?”

“If it pleases you, Lady Amber, you can kill me as soon as you suspect me. You’re welcome, by the way, for killing an Earthbound God for you.”

“I…” Amber had to admit that killing Seymour was a good enough reason in and of itself. “Okay, we accept you. But you better not chicken out when it’s time to kill the other Gods.”

“L-Like, right now?” Joey shook his finger at the changing sky above them. “Where have I seen that spider symbol before?”

“It’s the Mark of Uru…” Amber’s eyes opened wide. “Daddy is coming!”

“Weevil…” Rex trembled in place, hugging his baby bump. “I’m not ready to face him yet!”

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to be.” So Dip said, but after trying to transform, she found she had no will to do so. “Dammit! Why can’t I…?”

Dr. Balls couldn’t hold onto his animal form either. “Such is the price we strong shifters have to pay… There’s nothing more we can do here, Dip. Let’s go to my office, before Weevil arrives! Hurry!”

“I’m not scared of that bug boy!” Joey got up, with only Red-Eyes Black Dragon to defend him. “Bring it!”

“Hahaha! Gladly!” Weevil came to the battlefield alone, but with all the confidence in the world. 

“And what makes you think you can take on half of an army by yourself?” Joey smirked.

“Because unlike your idiotic friends, I know better than to fully shift unless the situation demands of it.” Weevil’s arms and legs glowed bright red as he spared Kaiba a passing glance.

“You… little…” As strong as Kaiba was, he couldn’t even half-shift.

“Ah, yes, I remember you…” Weevil cackled upon seeing Kaiba. “You’re the reason why my father pushed me so hard… I would have been spared so much pain and suffering if it weren’t for you!”

“Do you honestly expect me to care about your pain and suffering?” Kaiba scoffed.

“I’ll happily make you care!” Weevil shot a quick ball of spider webs at Kaiba from which he couldn’t escape.

“I’m… I’m not afraid!” Despite what Joey said, after seeing Kaiba fall so easily to Weevil, he wasn’t fully confident in his own ability. “Get ‘im, Red-Eyes!”

Weevil easily pushed Joey’s monster - and Joey himself - out of the way. “So, that’s the best you could bring? Hah!”

“W-Weeves…” Rex fell to his knees as he and Weevil stared each other down.

“So that just leaves me and you, huh?” Weevil could hear Atem trying to sing from behind him, and shot him down before he could get another note in. “You should have brought less pathetic friends, Rex. They all thought I was the same pathetic ‘bug boy’ from before, and now they’re all paying the price!”

“I… I don’t think you’re pathetic.” Rex panted as he spoke, feeling more Braxton Hicks contractions. “You’re strong; you always have been. Everything bad that happened to you is just bad luck.”

“So you acknowledge it. But flattery isn’t going to get you anything, except a few more quick seconds of life.” Weevil pointed his right arms at Rex. “I would give you the chance to fight me now, but I already know you can’t. Gods, how boring.”

“Daddy! Stop!” Amber’s wings were so sore from her struggle against Guarddragon Justicia that she couldn’t fly another inch forward.

“Amber, you foolish girl. You should have killed me when you had the chance! Maybe then you wouldn’t have to see your dear mother die right before your eyes!” Weevil turned back to Rex. “I think I’ve kept you waiting long enough. Prepare to die!”

Right as Weevil raised his arm, however, a voice bellowed across the battlefield. “You will not touch him!”

“Now, where have I heard that voice before?” Joey wondered out loud.

“Joseph, it has been a while. It looks like you’re having trouble; do you need some help? Why don’t I… spruce up your Red-Eyes a bit?”

“How do you know my name, and what are you talking… about… Huh?” Joey noticed the Red-Eyes Black Dragon changing forms. 

“H-Hey!” Weevil finally showed a sign of weakness. “Get out of here, if you know what’s good for you!”

“Hmm?” Rex smiled at Weevil slyly. “Where has all your confidence from before gone, hotshot?”

“Grr!” Weevil turned back to Rex, readying an attack at him. “If it’s confidence you want, it’s confidence you’ll get! Hyaaaah!”

Just then, Joey stepped in, blocking Weevil’s attack with his newly forged sword. “Not if I can help it. Leave my friend alone!”

“Ha… ha… Your friend?”

“And mine, too! Dark Magician Girl the Dragon Knight, charge!” Atem ordered. 

“Aaaaaargh!” This attack slashed Weevil across the legs. “You motherfucking pharaoh! I’ll not let you defeat me again! ”

“You wanna bet on that?” Kaiba smirked with Doom Virus Dragon behind him. “Even if Atem can’t defeat you, I’ll gladly do the honours.”

“You…” Weevil lunged forward, but stumbled. “You’ll pay for-”

“Uru, that’s enough!” Anita suddenly arrived in hummingbird form. “Retreat - Watda’s orders.”

“But… But I can still-”

“I will do no such thing! We leave now!” Anita picked Weevil up with her wing.

“Dammit! Give him… back…” Amber shot several arrows at Anita that missed.

“Never mind them for now, Lady Amber…” Phuckdis looked upon the three people who had saved them. “Who are these people?”

“Is… Is that you, rich boy?” Joey could hardly recognize his former rival, who had aged 20 years since he saw him last, and now wore ancient Egyptian garb.

“Big Brooooo!” Mokuba jumped in the air as he hugged his older brother. “How have you and Atem been?”

“Atem is here too?” Joey looked to the pharaoh, who had hardly aged a day. “Yo.”

“‘Yo’ yourself!” Atem gave his best friend a high five.

“I… didn’t know that Aiko’s other child was still alive.” Spinos exchanged a few words with his elder nephew, and told Kaiba about his surviving family members.

“Then who’s the boy?” Joey gestured his head towards the young man that had arrived with Kaiba and Atem.

“Darned please to meet y’all! I’m Heka Kaiba, the son of Atem and Seto Kaiba!” Heka had a much more relaxed demeanour than either of his parents.

“Come to think of it… You’re a shifter too, aren’t you, Kaiba? So does that mean…”

“That’s right, Rex. I was the one who gave birth to him - after letting Atem top me once. I’ve also got three other kids back at home.”

“Brah, I know all about that.” Rex patted his older cousin’s shoulder.

“You’re… You’re Heka?” Amber hesitated to show herself before the Egyptian crown prince. “Do you remember me?”

Heka stopped socializing with the others when Amber approached him, and reached out a hand to her. “How could I forget that beautiful face of yours? Would you… let me touch it again?”

“Heka!” Amber brought Heka’s hand to her face. “Yes! Yes, of course! Oh, my love, you’re alive! I’ve missed this warm hand so much…”

“What?” Rex blinked as he watched Amber get comfortable with this guy he just met. “What’s going on?”

“How ever did you survive?” Amber ignored her mother.

“I’m not gonna bore you with the details. Let’s just say if it wasn’t for daddy dear protecting you and whisking me away to safety at the last second, we’d both be dead.”

“Maybe my future is bright after all…” Amber cried tears of joy that Heka wiped away. 

“Oh, stop thinking about the future and focus on the present.” As Heka kissed Amber, he noticed the look of pain on her face. “Babe? Is everything okay?”

“I.. uh… might have gotten hurt in that last battle. Specifically on my butt.”

“Then how about I use some ancient Egyptian magic and help you feel better?” Heka showed no shame in lightly squeezing Amber’s butt before massaging it.

“Okay, that’s it, buster!” Rex huffed as he tried to break Heka and Amber apart. “Just who do you think you are, fondling my daughter that way?”

“Papa, you don’t have to worry about anything. Remember when I mentioned my boyfriend a few times before? This is him. He’s also a really good singer.” Amber twirled a lock of Heka’s hair. “By the way, love, you’ve got to perform a solo for everyone sometime. I’ve missed your gorgeous voice.”

“I take it you’re Amber’s mom in the present day?” Heka struck a pose. “Well, how do you do? What Amber didn’t tell you is that while I’m not a shifter, I’m one hell of a magic user. Your buddy Joey would probably be dead if it wasn’t for me. Haha!”

“Haha…” Joey answered with a half-hearted chuckle. “The pharaoh’s son is… one interesting fella, ain’t he? I bet he drives Atem and Kaiba up the wall.”

“Word. He’s nothing like my other self.”

“Hmph. I suppose I’ll tolerate your relationship with Amber for now. But make her cry, and I’ll make you regret it.”

“Daaaw, you’re a protective mother already.” Tricera smiled.

Kaiba didn’t like his son’s odd behaviour. “Heka, that’s quite enough. You need to act more like a prince and not make a fool of your father.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Papa.”

“Pharaoh…” Amber couldn’t look Atem in the eye. “I… Well… Thanks. Even though Daddy has caused you so much trouble, you’ve saved our lives today. And you, Kaiba. I wish you had come sooner, but it’s better late than never.”

“What do you mean?”

Phuckdis stepped forward. “In our future, we have a legend of a sacred creature known as the God-Shattering Star. He is said to be the only one capable of defeating the Crimson Devil, the strongest of the Earthbound Gods. Unfortunately, he never came… until now. Kaiba, we believe that you’re the one who will save us all.”

“That’s what I thought too.” Amber broke her hug with Heka. “And you summoned the three legendary dragons with you, dragons that are said to forge master weapons.”

“Timaeus…” Atem smiled at his old friend. “It’s been so long.”

“That explains the Red-Eyes Black Dragon Sword…” Rex could only take a quick glance at Joey’s sword before turning away, the flashbacks of their Orichalcos duel coming back to him. 

“I… uh… don’t feel like I really did anything, but okay.”

“Don’t be so modest, God-Shattering Star.” Phuckdis knelt in front of Kaiba. “You are worth all the praise in the world.”

Amber knelt too. “You’re the only one who can save Daddy. Please… Please, help us.”

“Gee, I didn’t know my role as queen of Egypt required me to help people from the future. Just how many worlds do I need to save?” Kaiba facepalmed. “Fine, I’ll do it. But this will be the last time that I do something nice for you dweebs.”

“That’s what you said last time you tried to save the world, rich boy.”

“Oh, put a sock in it, Wheeler.”

“Our circle of friends is finally back together again…” Téa pulled Yugi, Joey, Tristan, Atem, and Kaiba in for a group hug. “If we’ve saved the world twice, we can definitely do it thrice.”

“Sigh…” Rex sat down on the concrete as he waited for Dr. Balls’ nurses to get a stretcher for him. “I just wish it could wait until after finals.”

[stevesnailbat]

Can you do one where Murray exposes, reader and Steve’s feelings for each other in front of everyone??

warnings: fluff, some rude!Steve

word count: 1.2K

Y/N hated to admit when she was wrong, and so did Steve Harrington. In this situation, both of them were really, really wrong. Y/N’s disdain for Steve began when him and her best friend, Nancy, broke things off with him. Nancy’s side of the story at the time made it seem like he really was some grade-A asshole, but he really wasn’t. Any time she would hear him talk in class or when they would get partnered in biology by chance, she would shoot the meanest glares at him constantly. Steve never really justified his dislike for Y/N, her constant glares and superior tone when talking to him set just set him off.

Getting a job and the new ice cream shop at the mall seemed like fun, until she realized that she had to wear a sailor’s outfit alongside the one and only Steve Harrington. Both of them tried their hardest to get opposite shifts and never work together, but it was hard to do, especially during the summer when people were on vacation. The first week of July rolled around and Y/N was in disbelief when she saw the schedule. The other guy who worked as a cashier and ice cream scooper had taken the whole week off, leaving Y/N, Steve and Robin to work together every day that week.

“It won’t be that bad, Y/N! He’s not really an asshole anymore, I don’t think.” Nancy said to Y/N when she tried to complain about her schedule for the week, Jonathan agreed with what Nancy had said from the couch.

“Why don’t you try to figure out why she doesn’t like you so much? You shouldn’t just hate her just because she hates you. I think she’s a nice girl, though.” Robin chastised Steve on their last shift alone before their week with Y/N, Steve rolled his eyes and brushed off her comments.

The week started out with the two of them making snarky jabs at each other any chance they got, earning the most annoyed glares from the other. One day, Steve’s friend Dustin had come to the shop and they disappeared into the back room for half of his shift, Robin coming in and out every once in a while. It seemed to get extra busy when Y/N was left alone, and she had enough at that point. She told her next customer she would be right back and stormed into the back room. She found Steve, Robin and Dustin listening to a tape in another language and the Russian alphabet drawn on the whiteboard.

“Hello! I need my break! You guys need to go scoop please, it’s busy as shit right now, assholes.” she said in an exasperated tone. “What the hell is going on back here anyways?”

The three of them just laughed, Steve giving her an annoyed glare. None of them admitted to her what was going on, no matter how much she implored.

After that day, Y/N found herself stuck in a secret Russian base with Steve and Robin, while Dustin and Lucas’ little sister, Erica, tried their hardest to get them all out. Even when drugged, Y/N and Steve still bickered and Robin tried to be the mediator, telling them she didn’t want them arguing to be the last thing she heard before she died.

Escaping the base seemed a lot harder to do than getting in was, the five of them almost getting shot down by some guards when they made it back into the mall. Thankfully, Dustin’s friends saved them all with her superpowers, which confused Y/N and Robin even more.

“Wait, so you’re telling me that this girl has superpowers?” Y/N asked Nancy when they reunited, causing her and Jonathan to laugh at her bewilderment.

“Yes, yes we’ve already been over this once, Y/N! Like I said to Robin, she has superpowers.” Steve snapped when he heard her ask Nancy, earning a sharp glare in his direction from Nancy, Jonathan and Y/N.

“Why are you such an ass, Harrington? You’ve been nothing but a douche to me since we started working at Scoops. You’ve given me no reason to start to like you in any way.” Y/N snapped, pushing a finger into his chest as she approached him.

“Oh, not this shit again!” they heard Murray’s voice come from across the room; everyone went silent and looked at him to listen curiously. “You two are just as bad and this couple over here!” he pointed to Joyce and Hopper, who looked equally as surprised as Steve and Y/N. “Just go find somewhere to kiss and make up, to get out all of your sexual aggressions! We’ll all be out here risking our lives while you guys fight about who’s the bigger asshole.”

“We are not together, Murray.” Y/N said bluntly, her cheeks flushed red as all the attention turned to her.

“But you should be. You two are bickering like an old, married couple. It’s obvious, assholes.” Murray snapped back. “Figure this shit out before we all die or save it for later!”

Both Steve and Y/N huffed in annoyance, glaring at each other before going silent for the rest of the time. They scraped by for the rest of the battle with not speaking to each other, their minds both racing with the thoughts of what Murray had said. Y/N sat next to Robin as they got their wounds fixed up by the paramedics, giggling as they recalled their survival. Steve watched from next to Nancy and Jonathan, listening to them talk about how Murray might have been right.

Robin, Steve and Y/N were all out of a job after Starcourt was destroyed, so they didn’t get to see each other much, if any at all. About a week after the incidents, Y/N heard a knock on her door and hoped it was a friend to cure her current boredom. She swings the door open to reveal no other than Steve Harrington with wounds starting to heal up nicely. Her brow furrows in confusion as she sees him standing across from her, a confused look on his face as well.

“Y/N. I’ve been thinking — about what Murray said.” he said abruptly, wasting no time at all in getting to his point.

“What about it, Harrington? That he was wrong and you wanted to clear the air and let me know you still hate me?” she sneered in return, crossing her arms matter-of-factly.

Her facade was impeccable, showing no signs of breaking character any time soon. In reality, she wanted him to tell her that he had feelings for her and hoped he would cave, but she also knew that he most likely wouldn’t, so she threw that thought away.

“Yes — Shit. I mean, no! I wanted to talk to you about what he said, and tell you this.” he said shakily, staring down at her lips before pressing his against hers in a passionate kiss. “He was right, not about the needing to get out sexual tension I guess...But I do like you, Y/N. And i’m sorry for always being such an ass to you.”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” she implored, her eyebrow raising as she kept her guard up after the unexpected kiss.

“How about I take you out to dinner to show you that I’m serious? Tonight at 7, maybe?” he says smoothly even though his heart is beating out of his chest, leaning against the door frame as he speaks.

“I guess I can do dinner, Harrington. Then we’ll see if I like you after that.” she said in a halfway joking tone, earning a grin from the nervous boy. Finally, she thought, it took him long enough.