#which is one of the few things that hasn’t changed about it since i created these guys

[sourtoasterstrudel]

LOOK AT MY KIDS. I love these two so much, Lionel (sweater vest) has been with me for like 2 or 3 years now which is wild. He means the world to me so I’m really excited to show him off. Not to mention spork (werewolf), my little mud eating freak, though she’s only been around a couple of months. I was messing around with some new pens, trying out some new textures with colouring.

Most of what i plan to share about them will be more oriented on either their friendships or their town, Wormwood. Wormwood itself is a strange little Canadian ex-military town surrounded by forest. My idea for wormwood is for it to essentially be a mix of gravity falls and twin peaks, taking the light hearted strange creatures from gravity falls, and mixing it with the weird murder mystery aspect of twin peaks, as 19 people in wormwood all disappeared from their beds without a trace; Li was one of these people, but for some reason, 10 years later, he came back, though he wasn’t exactly in the same condition as when he left.

One of my favourite facts about wormfood that i really have no way of squeezing in there so i wanted to just mention it— there is physically no sun in wormwood. The sun just doesn’t seem to ever pass over wormwood or ever give it any sort of light. Luckily manmade lightsources have become all the rage in the past few centuries

[glassartpeasants]

One Piece Asylum AU idea

things are subject to change but here is a little short

~~~~

Characters include: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Kidd, and Killer

GN!Reader for the moment

Warnings: drug use, mentioned death, murder/manslaughter, hallucinations, mental illness's, abuse, medical malpractice, slight gore, depression, made at work, kinda spoilers for Law's and Sanji's backgrounds, i tried my best to incorporate some things from each backstory into this so-,I AM NOT A MENTAL HEALTH PROFESSIONAL SO I DO NOT KNOW IF THESE COULD BE ACCURATE

~~~~

“Patient's name is Monkey D. Luffy. He was brought here by his grandfather after he failed to thrive following the death of his older brother.” Handing you the clipboard, the head psychiatrist looks at you before continuing. “He’s convinced himself he’s a pirate and trying to become ‘King of the Pirates’ with his ‘nakama.’ We believe it’s a coping mechanism and trauma response to witnessing his brother's murder.”

Looking through the pages, you read the test and charts. Upon seeing a particular line, you raise a brow. “Believes he’s made of rubber?”

“Ah, yes. It’s part of the world he’s built in his head. He thinks that things will bounce off him and that he can’t get hurt if he falls from heights. It’s caused multiple bruises and broken bones. One includes the broken femur he just recovered from. He’s a high fall risk due to these delusions.”

“That’s so sad. Creating a whole world just to escape the grief. I can’t imagine the pain of watching a loved one die in such a horrific manner.”

“Surprisingly, this pirate world is common in this hospital. Don’t know if it’s Luffy’s influence or if it’s a common escape method that hasn’t been fully researched yet. But it is a very regular delusion in here.”

“There’s more…pirates?”

“Yes. Three crews, to be exact. At least for now. Luffy’s charmed his way into a few other patients' minds and convinced them to ‘join his crew.’”

“Really? Who are they?”

“There's a lot. Are you sure you want to hear them? It can get pretty disturbing and slightly gut-wrenching. New World Asylum isn’t known for the mild cases.”

A sense of unease fills the pit of your stomach, but the curiosity is too much to endure. “I’m sure.” Nodding, the head psychiatrist leads you to a big hallway. The doors are thick metal with name plates on each surface. As you approached the dark, eerie hallway, it felt like a horror movie.

The head psychiatrist hands you a pen and a small notepad. “Take notes, rookie. If you want to survive, I suggest writing down as many notes as possible.”

“After Luffy, we have Rorona Zoro. Brought here by police after a welfare check discovered he was living with the decaying body of his lover after he accidentally killed them.”

“What? Why is he here instead of prison?” You question, looking at the psychiatrist with furrowed brows.

“It was an accident. He used to collect swords and practice swordsmanship, which had him collecting a total of 3 swords. One of them accidentally killed his lover when they sneaked up behind him when he was drunk, spooking him. He killed them instantly, thankfully, slicing them in half. In his despair, he kept the body with him for two weeks. His boss was the one to call the cops to check up on them since he hadn’t left the apartment or contacted anyone in the said two weeks.”

“That's so sad, but…that still doesn’t explain why he isn’t in prison?”

“After the death, he continued to speak to them like they were alive, and when the cops tried to separate him from the body, he flipped his shit. It turned into a standoff that lasted about four hours before they finally managed to take him down. Often gets aggressive and has violent outbursts when he has moments of ‘clarity’ and ‘can’t find them.’”

“Oh…”

“He’s part of Luffy’s ‘Straw Hat Pirates.’ From our observed behaviors, he seems to be the second in command. He now claims to be striving to be the best swordsman for his deceased lover.” Writing down the minor notes that you could, you continue to follow.

“Next up, Vinsmoke Sanji. After suffering years of abuse that he refuses to speak about, he attacked them ruthlessly. The only one surviving of the massacre was his older sister, who he deems ‘free of retribution.’ They counted him unfit to stand trial and sent him here. According to Luffy, he’s the cook for his crew. As far as we know, he’s never stepped foot in the facilities kitchen.”

Remaining speechless, you follow and try to calm down how your mind seems to run at a million miles per minute. How many people did this place have that believed they were pirates? Was this all Luffy’s doing? Influencing people into believing his world?

“Trafalgar Water D. Law. A raging wildfire took out his entire town overnight when he slept as a child. He has it in his mind that the government did it to hide the fact they were experimenting on them. A man adopted him only to witness his murder after his adoptive father got into an argument with a family member.” Your heart burned as you listen to the recounting of his story. Losing your whole world overnight twice sounded like hell.

“The next thirteen years seemed to go by quickly and relatively calmly. He’d gotten his medical degree to be a surgeon. He was known far and wide as a great doctor. It wasn’t until people began to find out that he'd been secretly experimenting on people. Trying to find a cure for an unknown disease that he claims killed his family.”

“The one that he blamed on the government?” You raised your brow, trying to comprehend what could possibly be going on in the man’s mind.

“Yes. It also came to light that his partner, who was constantly sick, was being poisoned by him. He always fed them a small amount of some drug, so they were too weak to do anything other than depend on him. Just so they couldn’t leave him. And just like almost everyone else, they concluded that he's not in the right mind to stand trial and sent him here.”

Walking past Law’s door, a sense of despair hits you, making goosebumps rise on your skin. You could hear him talking to himself, but what he’s saying was unintelligible. “He talks to his deceased sister a lot. Blames himself for not waking up his family in time to save them from the fire or warn them about the ‘sickness’ they had. When talking to him, don't be spooked if he starts asking you about your upcoming ‘surgery.’ He’s restrained in a jacket like Zoro."

"He’s another victim of Luffy’s influence, as he also now believes he’s part of a pirate group. But this one, he’s the captain of. He calls them the Heart Pirates. Another thing he discusses frequently is Corazon. We have yet to figure out who or what that is.”

“I’ll…keep that in mind.” The pen scribbled relentlessly on the paper, seeming never to stop as words repeatedly filled the small, lined paper.

“Good. Next up is Eustass Kidd.” Moving forward, next to the head psychiatrist, you are shown a door made of even thicker metal than the others along the hallway. There were even twice the number of locks on the door compared to the ones you've seen.

“Why are there so many locks?”

“He’s the most aggressive and hostile. It’s gotten to the point of him being unable to leave his cell and being chained to the back wall-”

“Let me out of here, you stupid-” A scream of pain came from behind the heavy metal door, causing you to rush up and slide open the slot in the door to check up on the man behind it.

“Sir?! Are you okay?!” As you opened the small opening, you were met with orange orbs staring right at you. Firey red hair could be seen from what little light was in the room. For a moment, the air seemed cold, quiet, and uncomfortable.

CLANK

Not a second passed before the man in chains jumped to his feet and rushed at you; the chains holding him back and the door separating you two did little to quell the scream that left your throat as you fell back on your butt. 

“He never learns.” The head psychiatrist sighs before you see her push a button on a small remote in her hand, leading to another scream of agony in the room.

“W-What are you?” Wide-eyed, you look at her.

“Shock therapy. It’s part of his treatments.”

“But hasn’t that been proven to be ineffective?” A stone stare was all you got, and it made you want to shrink and crawl into a hole to hide. Why would she use a technique that has proven ineffective? As punishment? There had to be some sort of explanation. There is no way they would use such primitive methods in this modern day. Unnerved, you slowly stand up, your eyes never leaving her hand.

“Moving on.” Quickly rushing forward, she moves to the final door. Not sparing you or the chained man a second glance.

Looking at the tiny slit in the door, you exhale a silent, “I’m sorry…” Swallowing down your saliva, you move to her side once more. What once was a calm introduction now felt wrong. The coldness of her actions shows a dark side that makes you want to run far, far away. What could he have done to get here and be treated like some sort of animal?

“What did he do that caused such treatment?”

“He was in a rock band, but there was an accident at a bar where he must have taken some substances that caused a manic episode. Whether it was knowingly or unknowingly is not charted. However, the episode caused some harsh hallucinations, which resulted in him running into oncoming traffic and getting hit by a car. The aftermath was multiple surgeries and the amputation of his left arm. Once he was awake and saw the damage, he freaked.”

“Freaked? Did they not explain to him what happened?”

“They tried, but from forced brain scans and multiple behavior therapists later, it was revealed that the accident had knocked some screws loose. Putting him in an eternal warped state of mind. A constant state of psychosis in a better term. No amount of medication has helped him. He’s a lost cause. No doubt he’ll be here for the rest of his life.” Frowning, you follow her to the next and last room in the hallway.

“Last but not least, Killer.”

“Killer?” You look at her in confusion. What kind of name is that? Is she pranking you?

“Yes. He was and still is Eustass Kidd’s best friend and the only person who can calm him down when he’s on a violent rampage after somehow escaping his room.”

“How did he get here then? Was he also in the accident?”

“No. He came a month after Eustass was sent to us. After Eustass’s spiral, he spiraled into his own depression after losing his best friend, and he turned to some drugs to soothe the pain. And just like his friend, he caused irreversible damage to himself after going on a drug stupor after his lover broke it off with him cause he was ‘too depressing to be around.’”

“What did he do?...”

Sparing you only a second glance, the head psychiatrist looked to be holding back a chuckle. “He used a sewing needle to stitch his mouth into a smile before going back to his ex’s house and trying to beg for them to take him back, saying he ‘fixed himself. ‘The cops took one look at him and sent him here.” An icky feeling rose in your gut at her reaction. How could she find something so horrific to be funny?

“That's horrible…it’s so disturbing how fragile the human mind is.”

“It is. Oh, something I forgot to mention is that Luffy’s influence hit them, too. Eustass took his words as a challenge and made his own pirate group, including Killer, called the ‘Kidd Pirates.’”

“How original?”

Stopping suddenly, the lady turns to you. “Now that you know them. It’s time for you to get ready.”

“Ready? Ready for what?”

“Ready to meet your new patients, Dr. (Y/N). I’m sure you’ll love it here at New World Asylum.”

[bagerfluff]

Early Morning Pretties

Casper x Non-Binary Reader

Prompt - Watching the other sleep

You didn’t know if you could handle this.

What couldn’t you handle? How fucking cute Casper looked when he was asleep. You woke up about an hour ago. You were supposed to be getting ready for work

But one glance at Casper left you star struck.

He just looked so angelic. So now you were sitting next to him watching him sleep. The sight was way too cute. Casper was laying on his side of the bed, cuddling azrael.

Which was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, you already took a picture of it. His hair was spread all over the pillows, slightly fuzzy from sleeping.

It creates a ring of sorts around his head. His shirt was pulled up slightly and the blanket was tangled in his legs.

Leaving you a nice view of Casper’s waist, you might have stared at it for a few minutes before looking away.

He was on his stomach, head turned towards your side of the bed. Despite that, azrael was still held tightly.

Since Casper didn’t bring any clothes and hasn’t had anything to get some from his place, he’s been using yours.

Which is the best sight in the world. Right now he was wearing an extra pair of pajamas that you had in a box. Long sleeve shirt and pants, with the sleeves and legs rolled up.

Casper only had a few clothes at your place so far. He said it was dangerous to go to The Underworld since he was on the run.

So he only went a few times so far, that just means more opportunities to see him in your clothes.

It left you a nice few of Casper’s skin, slightly littered with scars.

The light morning light that shined in though your windows covered Casper in a morning glow. You moved your hand over to Casper’s face, brushing some hair out of his face.

As if Casper knew your hand was close, he leaned his head closer to your hand. You rested your hand on his cheek, rubbing it with your thumb. Despite being under blankets and it being warm, Casper’s cheek was cold, but that was just Casper.

You saw Casper smile in his sleep, making you smile. Casper moaned and moved in his sleep, opening his eyes and looking at you. “Good morning, pretty”, you whispered.

Casper rolled over onto his side, azrael still in his hand. “Morning sunshine”, Casper said groggily, still rubbing his eyes. You moved your hand from Casper’s face to his head, playing with his hair.

Casper sighed and laid back down, moving closer to you. Casper moved next to your leg and grabbed it, holding your leg and azrael as he closed his eyes.

You let out a little laugh, “I have to go to work”, you told Casper while playing with his hair. Casper made a sound that mimicked a growl, “no, mine”, he whispered into your thigh. You looked at Casper, he had a pout on his face.

It looked adorable.

You felt Casper hold your thigh tighter. You smiled, “what am I going to do with you. You know the bills don’t pay themselves”, you told Casper though you knew it would do little to change Casper’s mind.

Casper didn’t say anything, that’s when you knew he had fallen back asleep. You shook your head and leaned back on your bed’s headboard. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and sent a text to your boss.

Looks like you're staying home today.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 3

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: None really. Angst. Dean being a bit of an asshole. A brief, near sexual encounter. Smidge of fluff.

Word Count: 3,654

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: So, here I am with chapter 3. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much for all the very kind comments that this series has received so far. You're all fabulous.

Series Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

The next morning Dean was sitting at the table in his tent, listening to the camp waking up around him, when his tent flap opened and Cas strolled in. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, we gotta put up a piece of wood on the tent poles or something so people can knock.” He said in a surly and growly, early morning voice. When Cas didn’t respond, he challenged him with an even surlier tone. “What? Why are you here?”

Cas walked further into the tent. “I saw you gave Y/N back her daughter.” Dean raised his hand and then dropped it, conceding the point. “And,” Cas continued, raising his hand in the air and waving it slightly, “no more manacles.”

Dean spread his arms wide. “These are all things I already know, Cas; why are you telling me this?”

Cas shrugged slightly. “So, can I assume this means you no longer think she’s going to turn into a monster at any minute?”

Dean blew out a puff of air. “It means, she’s been here a week, and hasn’t turned yet. And since that isn’t really something that happens to people who get bit, I think I can be reasonably certain she won’t turn, randomly, out of the blue one day. And I gave her back her kid so she can look after her, and I can get Risa back as a soldier instead of a nanny.”

Cas wore a very enthusiastic expression as he moved closer. “Come on, even you have to admit that this is exciting.”

Dean arched a brow. “Exciting?”

Cas’ voice became awestruck. “Dean, this is the most hopeful sign we’ve had in…years!”

“Aw, don’t come at me with that hopeful bullshit!” Dean’s scowl and fierce countenance was immediate and slightly intimidating, even to the angel. 

“Hope is nothing but a fucking lie, okay? We know it. We HOPED we could stop Lilith breaking seals and we didn’t, we HOPED we could stop the apocalypse, but we failed at that too. We HOPED we could save everyone, and well, we’re doing a pretty piss poor job of that, aren’t we? Every single time we go out on a raid, I hope we come back with the same number of people we left with, but it doesn’t happen very often, does it? We hoped -” 

Dean cut himself short and swallowed hard, lowering his voice. “We hoped that Sam would be strong enough to say no, but…he wasn’t. I hoped I could save him. And-” He cut himself off again and rubbed a hand hard across his face. 

“So just don’t come at me with ‘hopeful’.” Dean said, sneering the word.

He tapped his fingers against his chest. “Cause I gotta live in the reality of this situation. And look, if you wanna hide away from that reality, you wanna get blitzed and bombed every day, and pretend like you’re some kind of sexual guru, fuck around with dozens of girls, I don’t really give a shit. Okay? Do it. But I,” he banged his chest with his whole fist this time, “I have to live in the reality of our lives.”

Dean stood up and stepped closer to Cas, swinging his arm out sideways. “And the reality is I have no fucking clue why that woman hasn’t turned.” He shrugged dismissively. “Maybe the person who bit her wasn’t fully turned themselves, or maybe they didn’t fully break the skin so it didn’t take completely. Who knows. All I know is that she’s probably not gonna turn and so now we’ve got one more mouth to feed. Two, actually.” He said holding up two fingers. “And two more people draining our resources.”

He stepped back and turned away, giving Cas his profile. “That’s the reality. So you wanna join me in it, great. If not,” He turned his head to look at him, lifting his hand towards the entrance, “there’s the door. Or, you know, the tent flap.”

He dropped down onto the chair he’d vacated and rubbed a hand across his lips. He looked up when Cas spoke softly. 

“I don’t wanna live in this reality, Dean. I just can’t anymore. So I choose hope, I choose to be hopeful that maybe she marks a change, maybe things can be different. I’m telling you, this reality isn’t the only option.”

Dean shook his head. “It’s my only option. I learned a long time ago, and you should’ve too - hope is dangerous. Reality can’t hurt you like hope can.”

Cas’ expression was discouraged and disappointed as he nodded, looking away from Dean. He said nothing more as he turned and walked away.

***

A little while after Cas left, Dean moved out to his campfire and cooked and ate his ration of eggs and potatoes. As he drank his coffee, he was actively trying to push the argument with Cas out of his head. He had a camp to lead, he didn't need this crap clouding his judgment.

It was ridiculous to think the woman represented some kind of new hope for mankind. He rolled his eyes at the very notion.

Still, he found himself calling out to Johnston as the soldier walked by. The man stopped abruptly and turned fearful eyes on Dean. It drove Dean a little crazy that after more than two years of Johnston serving the camp, of protecting it and helping to run the day-to-day work and activities there, he still seemed petrified of Dean. 

I can't possibly be that scary, Dean thought with a deep scowl. Not like I've had him flogged for looking at me wrong or something.

Dean rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the fear radiating from the other man.

“You settled Y/N and her daughter?” He asked.

Johnston's blue eyes were slightly bulging and his prominent Adam's apple moved up and down as he swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

Dean waited a minute for him to elaborate before prodding him gruffly. “And?”

The other man seemed at a loss and Dean snapped his fingers impatiently. “And where did you put them?”

Understanding finally lit in Johnston's eyes and he began nodding. “Oh, yes sir. I put them in the southwest corner. Fourth row, the tent on the end.” He seemed proud to get that much out. But then he raised a finger. “Oh, the tent is red.”

Dean nodded and waved at him. “As you were.” 

Johnston saluted (even though Dean had told him a million times not to) and hurried on. Dean sighed deeply and without thinking about it too much, he headed in the direction of the red tent. 

When he got there he shouted out a hello, feeling slightly foolish and vowing then and there to make it a project to put some kind of wood near tents’ openings so people could knock.

The flap opened and Y/N's face lit up with a beaming smile when she saw him. “Hi!” 

Not knowing what to do with her enthusiasm, he just nodded. There was a slightly awkward moment and then Emma, her big blue eyes staring up at Dean, poked her head out from behind her mom, keeping her arms tightly wrapped around her hips and leaning her head into her side.

Y/N lifted her arm a little so Emma could shuffle out from behind her a bit more. She combed down Emma's slightly flyaway curls with her fingers and then settled her hand on the little girl's thin shoulders.

She gestured to Dean. “Say hi to Mr. Winchester.”

The little one just pressed closer and looked away from Dean to bury her face in her mother's side.

Y/N gave him a slightly chagrined look. “She isn't usually this shy.” She said by way of apology. 

But Dean simply shook his head. Unlike Johnston, he understood all too well why this blue-eyed moppet was scared of him. She'd watched him nearly end her mother's life - not something she was ever likely to forget.

Dean hated that that realization came with a trace of guilt. Feeling very annoyed with himself, he straightened up and nodded curtly.

“Good.” He said succinctly, responding to nothing. “I just wanted to make sure you were settled properly.”

He turned in an abrupt about face and started walking away. 

“Dean, wait!” Y/N called out to him. He turned back to see her wave Emma back into the tent and head towards him. When she reached him she wore her bright smile again, and he frowned deeper as a result.

“I wanted to ask you about something.”

Dean said nothing, waiting for her to continue. She seemed to be a little nervous, fiddling with her hair. She finally clasped her hands in front of her and continued. 

“So, I was talking to Eric?” She said as though it was a question. Dean did give her a puzzled look.

“Eric?” He asked.

Y/N had opened her mouth to continue talking, but then closed it and gave her head a shake, pointing to the side at nothing in particular. 

“Eric Johnston? The…soldier that brought us to this tent and helped us set it up.”

Dean nodded in recognition. Yes, he remembered now, that was his first name. He never used it. “Right.” He waved her on. 

“And I was asking about school for Emma, but he said there isn't one.”

Dean shook his head. “No, the parents, guardians, they look after that themselves.”

Y/N nodded. “Yes, but I was thinking…well, I was a third grade teacher in the…before.” She thumbed behind her as though their former, normal lives were just right behind them, around the corner, instead of existing eons ago.

She shrugged. “So, I was thinking that maybe I could start a kind of school for the kids here. Eric figured there were about 35 or 40 of them. So I thought we could hold lessons somewhere outside most days, but if the weather's bad, maybe we could use the main cabin.”

Dean was scowling harder now, so she rushed on. “It would only be for a few hours a day. Wouldn't be anything spectacular, but it could help them with reading and math, and just some basics. Keep the kids' minds occupied and give their parents a couple of hours on their own.”

She shrugged. “It's nothing much, but it might help people feel a little more hopeful about the future.” She finished with another bright smile.

Dean felt his ire rise with that word again - hopeful. This woman was going to upset everything, tip the precarious balance of the camp on its head. 

He shook his head angrily. “We don't do shit like that. This isn't a fucking gated community, okay? These are survivors who get by together. That's it.”

Y/N's eyes were so earnest it almost hurt to look at her. “But, don't you see, it could be a community. Not gated, but open. We could do more for each other than just survive.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, if you're unhappy with being here, we can happily help you on your way.”

Y/N raised her hands. “No, of course not, that's not what-”

Dean cut her off with a cold, hard voice. “And you can't teach kids like this.” He waved a hand towards the red rings encircling her irises. “You'd scare the shit outta them. Take one look at you and freak out, thinking you're gonna turn into a monster any minute.”

That pulled Y/N up short and Dean could see by her slight flinch that his words had hit home. She was quiet a minute and her smile was dimmed as she nodded.

“Right. That's…no, you're right.” She gave an imitation of a chuckle. “There aren't many mirrors around, so I…sometimes I forget about…” she gestured to her eyes.

She shook her head. “I was just trying to find a way to be helpful, you know.” She shrugged. “But yeah…” She trailed off and Dean felt a sick gnawing sensation in his stomach as she gave a final dull smile. 

“Okay, well thanks.” She said as she turned away. Though what she could have possibly been thanking him for, he had no idea.

He thought about Cas’ disappointed expression, and Y/N's bent smile and he gritted his teeth. This morning was not going well for him.

The day didn’t get much better from there. He spent most of it planning their next raid for canned goods. They were running low, and it was September already. Over the next couple of months they’d have to make sure they had whatever they needed for the winter. Once the snow hit, the winter roads were sometimes impassable for weeks at a time. 

They were having to go further and further out from the camp to find supplies. The area was becoming picked clean. There were four or five other, smaller, groups of survivors within about a hundred square miles of their camp. For the most part they all rubbed along together alright, pretty much just leaving a big buffer of space between the camps, and leaving each other alone.

However, Dean was starting to worry about what would happen now that resources and supplies around them were starting to run out. In this last year, they’d started having to drive hours and hours away from camp to find un-ransacked grocery stores and restaurants in the abandoned cities. They could manage it because of their size, but some of the smaller groups had very few working vehicles, making it harder for them to travel. Dean worried what would happen when they got desperate. 

He wanted to be ready for winter.

So, he tried to spend the day planning the best route to hit as many cities as they could without hitting too many known Croat hives, or cleaned out cities. But he kept getting interrupted by his soldiers. The concerns of the camp were unending, and sometimes felt completely overwhelming. 

The morning kept being interrupted by issues and grievances his soldiers brought him from some of the camp inhabitants. He tried to put out as many fires as he could, while continuing to plan the raid.

Then he ended up spending far too much of the afternoon talking about drainage and irrigation with the young guy who used to be an engineering student, and an old farmer who’d spent his whole life in the fields. The two very different men were teaming up to try and see about making bigger winter crop plots this year. They’d grown some winter vegetables last fall and winter, and even that small amount of fresh food had made a big difference in the health of the campers. So this year they were hoping for more. 

Finally the men went off to plan some more and Dean folded up his maps. He hadn’t made much headway into the raid route, but the light was getting low; he’d have to come back to it. He fried up some spam and a few of the cooked, frozen potatoes they’d put up in the spring and sat beside his fire for a while before tossing water on it and going inside his tent. He lit a lantern and started to try and look at the maps again, but he was interrupted by Risa.

Dean lifted his chin towards her by way of greeting. She came forward and dropped a small piece of machinery on his table. “Here’s the piston for that Ford we towed back last week.” She said, referring to the truck they’d found abandoned on the side of the road with no owners in sight. “Should work.”

Dean nodded. “Great.”

Risa lingered a moment and then walked closer to him. “How are you?”

Dean shrugged. “Fine.”

She moved forward to stand between his legs and then reached out to run her hands over his cheeks and down his neck. She bent over and pressed a brief kiss to his lips.

“I miss you.” She said, her voice softer and more intimate than it ever was when they were soldier and commander. “You haven’t been to see me in weeks.”

“Sorry.” Dean said gruffly and then let her kiss him again, kissing her back for a moment before pulling away. 

Not willing to give up, Risa straddled his outstretched thighs and reached for his zipper. “It’s okay, I bet I can find ways to entice you back.” She said, dark brown eyes flashing with heat.

But Dean grabbed her hands and pulled them away. He kissed her briefly to try and ease the sting of his rejection. “Sorry, not tonight.” He nodded towards the maps on his table. “I’ve got shit I gotta finish.”

Risa bit into her lip, looking down at their hands entwined in his lap, and then nodding before she stood up. She lifted her mouth in a smile. “Yeah, sure. ‘Kay.” She nodded again and pointed to the piston as she left. “Let me know if that works.”

Dean sighed as his tent flap fell back into place. And that was the third person he’d disappointed today. Without his permission Y/N’s face floated into his mind. Despite what he’d said to her, he couldn’t deny how beautiful that face actually was. The red pigment in her eyes made no difference to that beauty.

He couldn’t erase the image of her crestfallen expression when he told her she’d scare the kids. That was complete bullshit and he knew it. Five seconds in her shiny presence and the kids would be eating out of her hand.

He growled slightly as he could feel himself caving. But would it really be so bad to let her teach the kids somewhere? They’d have to stay out of the way, and she’d have to keep them all quiet when they were together in a mob. But it might actually free their parents up for more of the endless tasks it took to maintain the camp.

If he let her do it, he’d have to make sure she knew he was only saying yes so that they could have the kids out of the way for a while. This wasn’t some hopeful mission for the future. It was just a practical solution for improving the camp.

He nodded. Yeah, I'll tell her tomorrow. 

But even as he though it, he got up and walked out of his tent, moving towards the southwest corner of the camp. Within a couple minutes he was standing in front of the red tent and again found himself clearing his throat and embarrassingly calling out a hello, like he was the Avon lady.

Y/N poked her head out of the tent and smiled. But she lowered her eyes a little and wouldn’t look directly at him. He wanted to punch himself.

“Hi.” She said softly, and then stepped out of the tent into the cool, late evening breeze. She waved towards the tent. “Emma’s sleeping.”

He nodded. She rubbed her arms and he frowned. “Didn’t they give you a jacket?” Then he noticed she was still wearing the grubby clothes she’d been wearing when she came. “And clean clothes?”

Y/N nodded and even in the dusky twilight Dean could see her blush. “Yes, but I realized…I’m all dirty.” She shrugged. “Nothing but basin baths for weeks. I’d like to get cleaner before I put on the clean clothes. One of your soldiers said there was a place where people went to bathe nearby. But he didn’t have time to take me.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, there’s a river about four miles south of camp. It does the trick. I’ll take you tomorrow.” 

He scowled; he didn’t know where that offer had come from. He could have had one of his soldiers, or any other camper really, take her out to the river. But he didn’t rescind the offer and Y/N nodded happily.

“That would be wonderful.” She said rapturously. 

Dean nodded curtly again. “Yeah. And uh…you can do the school.” Y/N looked directly at him now and her face was surprised, but clearly thrilled. 

“Really?” 

He nodded and scowled. “Yeah, the kids'll get over it." He said with a nod to her red eyes. "But just make sure you all stay out of the way of the work in the camp. And let the parents know we’ll have some work for them during the hours their kids are gone. We can use the extra hands.”

Y/N nodded. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to help out where they can.”

Impulsively it seemed, she threw her arms around him, squeezing his arms tight to his sides as she hugged him. Shock coursed through him and he didn’t know how to move. Thankfully it was a brief hug and she was soon pulling away.

“Thank you so much, Dean. I’m so excited. I think it’s going to make a real difference. Just wait.”

As she bid him goodnight and bounced back into her tent, he shook his head, frowning deeply. 

Fuck, he thought, everything is too different already.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @deangirl96

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

[the-universal-sun]

Do you have any little Fiddleford hcs?

I haven’t really thought about before, but you’ve inspired me. Thank you! Please let me know if this is what you were thinking of!

I don’t really think he’d start regressing until after the memory gun is created and Ford goes through the portal. His mind is in shambles, he’s stressed, anxious, and neurotic all the time basically. He’s probably homeless/living in the dump at this point, too. So all that combined leads his mind retreating to a safer age, a younger age. It’s the one good thing besides the Society that he has.

Now, let’s imagine he goes to the Mystery Shack to confront Ford after a memory is triggered and he finds Stan instead, after Stan explains his connection to Ford, Fidds tells Stan that he used to be Ford’s research partner but left for reasons he couldn’t and didn’t want to remember. Stan, feeling sorry for the squirrelly little man, offers to drive him home, but when they reach the dump he’s been staying at, he offers Fidds to stay back at the shack. He doesn’t do it out of kindness, though a part of him is sympathetic given he was homeless for a decade up until a year ago, but because he thinks he can convince Fidds to help him with the portal. Stan’s a conman, so it doesn’t take him too long to get Fidds to agree to stay, just for the winter at least.

I would imagine that they don’t spend time together until Stan convinces Fidds to help with the portal, which took weeks to do. And he’s still not happy about and refuses to go down to the basement. He’ll do the equations and teach Stan the engineering bits, but that’s all he does, and he’s only doing that much because Ford still is his friend.

Onto the actual headcanons:

- Stan doesn’t really notice anything too out of the ordinary at first, Fiddleford is already an odd, fluttering, and anxious mess with a fractured mind, so seeing him act less like an almost 30 year old and more like a 7 year old isn’t out of the question, who knows the effects of the memory gun?

- It only clicks for Stan after living with and observing Fidds for a couple of months. Stan is actually not surprised or weirded out. He’s lived on the streets for 10 years, he’s seen his fair share of different behaviors, and this is one he actually sort of knows about. One of the prisons he was in made him go to weekly group therapy and this was brought up more than a few times.

- For all the fronts that Stan puts up, he’s a deeply caring and emotional man when it comes to his loved ones, and Fiddleford wiggled his way into his heart quite easily, so he’s going to look after the little guy. That being said, he won’t make it obvious that he knows and cares (he’s being so obvious it’s painful). He speaks softly to Fidds when he notices him feeling smaller, offers kid friendly food and shows, and doesn’t let him work on the portal’s math. And sometimes rocks him to sleep. He’s not obvious at all.

- Fidds is a smart man, he knows what’s going on, he knows that Stan knows what’s going on. But he doesn’t mind so much, having Stan there just helps his anxiety and quiets his mind. Plus, he hasn’t been called “Little Fella/Guy” since he was actually 7 years old, and it feels nice to be taken care of instead. He took care of his 5 younger siblings, his cousins, Ford, his own family, technically he takes care of the town with the Society of the Blind Eye, so this is a nice change

- He does have the energy and eccentricity of Old Man McGucket when regressed. He’s just a boy from the south who loves to run in the dirt and hock loogies sometimes. Stan encourages it, encourages Fidds being loud and playful and full of energy, something he never got to be. It was beaten out of him, but damn if he ain’t gonna make sure that his boy can experience childish joy

- You know how sometimes kids from the south have the strongest and cutest country accent? That’s how Fidds sounds when regressed and Stan cannot get enough of it. He usually hates the accent, but coming from his Little Man? It’s the best sound he’s ever heard, and if he hears anyone making fun of it, he’s punching their lights out

-Fidds is an engineer at heart, always has been, so Stan swipes him some wooden stacking blocks, some child’s robotics sets, and some advanced looking Rubix cubes. Of course when Fidds is feeling overwhelmed and super anxious, not wanting to think for a little bit, Stan acquired some kid friendly books from the library, some crayons and marker, and regular old printer paper

- About every picture Fidds ends up drawing gets put on the refrigerator by Stan. He’s so happy and he loves them

- I headcanon that Stan shows love through home made gifts and quality time, like with Dipper and Mabel’s fishing hats and the time he spent with them, so he makes gifts for Fidds. He’ll draw with him and give him the drawing to keep afterwards (they’re all in Fidds’ little treasure/memory chest), he’ll spend time learning and making food he grew up eating, home made biscuits and gravy, buttermilk pie are the first he learned and are what Fidds wants to eat the most. He hand sews stuffed toys for him, Fidds’ favorite is a dog that was made with different cloth patches, he carries the affectionately named Copper with him everywhere

- Fidds loves being with Stan, his Bubba, he loves the care he can see and feel with each action. His soft touches when Fidds gets into a fit, his soft voice, he never yells and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows why, but his head is too fuzzy to think on it. Fidds was always the one in charge, the big brother, so it’s nice having his Bubba take care of him. He gets fed, he stays warm, and on the days when Fidds feels awful in his mind, he gets wrapped up in a blanket burrito and just held and carried everywhere, all day. He loves Stan

- When Fidds gets scratches and scrapes from playing outside, Stan kisses his boo boos for healing and puts a colorful bandage over it. And then kisses them again for good luck

- His juice has to be watered down or he’s bouncing off the walls and talking a mile a minute, which is cute and all, but not when it’s been nonstop running for 4 hours

- He once had an accident after a nightmare during his nap. He just sat there sobbing until Stan came, he was so scared that Stan would be disgusted and would yell at him. But when Stan found him, all he did was whisper a soft “Little Man”, pick him up, and bring him to the bathroom to give him a warm bath, wrap him up in a burrito with a clean blanket and Copper, and rock him back to sleep.

- Stan loves taking care of Fidds, he likes being needed sure, but he truly does care for Fiddleford, whether he’s the genius engineer helping his get his brother back, or his Little Guy, who loves to draw horses and pigs and can solve a Rubix cube in 15 minutes. And Fiddleford loves Stanley, his best friend who’s helping him stop with the memory gun use and eagerly listens to his engineering lessons, and his Bubba who draws with him and kisses his boo boos when he falls down

- In conclusion, Fiddleford H. McGucket is just a little guy

[notwiselybuttoowell]

In 2014, the Guardian asked me to nominate my hero of the year. To some people’s surprise, I chose Russell Brand. I loved the way he energised young people who had been alienated from politics. I claimed, perhaps hyperbolically, he was “the best thing that has happened to the left in years” (in my defence, there wasn’t, at the time, much competition).

Today, I can scarcely believe it’s the same man. I’ve watched 50 of his recent videos, with growing incredulity. He appears to have switched from challenging injustice to conjuring phantoms. If, as I suspect it might, politics takes a very dark turn in the next few years, it will be partly as a result of people like Brand.

It’s hard to decide which is most dispiriting: the stupidity of some of the theories he recites, or the lack of originality. He repeatedly says he’s not a conspiracy theorist, but, to me, he certainly sounds like one.

In 2014, he was bursting with new ideas and creative ways of presenting them. Today, he wastes his talent on tired and discredited tales: endless iterations of the alleged evils of the World Economic Forum founder, Klaus Schwab, the Great Reset, Bill Gates, Nancy Pelosi, the former US chief medical adviser, Anthony Fauci, Covid vaccines, medical data, the World Health Organization, Pfizer, smart cities and “the globalist masterplan”.

His videos appear to promote “natural immunity” ahead of vaccines, and for a while pushed ivermectin and hydroxychloroquine as treatments for Covid (they aren’t).

He championed the “Freedom Convoy” that occupied Ottawa, which apparently stood proudly against the “tyranny” of Justin Trudeau’s policies. He hawks Graham Hancock’s widely debunked claims about ancient monuments.

A wildly popular clip from one of his videos about the Dutch nitrate crisis offers a classic conspiracy theory mashup: a tangle of claims that may be true in other contexts, random accusations, scapegoating and resonances with some old and very ugly tropes. He claims that “this whole fertiliser situation is a scam”. The real objective is “to bankrupt the farmers so their land can be grabbed”. This “shows you how the Great Reset operates”, using “globalist” regulations to throw farmers off their land. He claims it’s “connected to the land grab of Bill Gates” and the “corruption of companies like Monsanto”.

In reality, the Dutch government was forced to act by a legal ruling, as levels of nitrate pollution, largely from livestock farms, break European law. Its attempts to curb this pollution have nothing to do with the World Economic Forum and its vacuous rhetoric about a “Great Reset”. Or with Bill Gates. Or with Monsanto, which hasn’t existed since 2018 when it was bought by Bayer. So why mention them? Perhaps because these terms have become potent click triggers.

Brand is repeating claims first made by far-right conspiracists, who have piled into this issue, claiming that the nitrate crisis is a pretext to seize land from farmers, in whom, they claim, true Dutch identity is vested, and hand it to asylum seekers and other immigrants. It’s a version of the “great replacement” conspiracy theory, itself a reworking of the Nazis’ blood and soil tropes about protecting the “rooted” and “authentic” people – in whom “racial purity” and “true” German identity was vested – from “cosmopolitan” and “alien” forces (ie Jews). Brand may not realise this, as the language has changed a little – “cosmopolitans” have become “globalists”, “aliens” have become “immigrants” – but the themes have not.

On and drearily on he goes. He manages to confuse the World Health Organization’s call for better pandemic surveillance (by which it means the tracking of infectious diseases) with coercive surveillance of the population, creating “centralised systems of control where you are ultimately a serf”.

Some of his many rants about Bill Gates are illustrated with an image of the man wearing a multicoloured lapel badge, helpfully circled in red. This speaks to another widespread conspiracy theory: those who wear this badge are members of a secret organisation conspiring to control the world (so secret they stick it on their jackets). In reality, it shows support for the UN sustainable development goals.

Such claims are not just wrong. They are wearyingly, boringly wrong. But, to judge by the figures (he has more than 6 million subscribers on YouTube), the audience loves them.

Some of his theories, such as his recent obsession with UFOs, are innocuous enough. Others have potential to do great harm. There’s the risk to the people scapegoated, such as Fauci, Schwab and Pelosi: subjects of conspiracy theories often become targets of violence. There are the risks misleading claims present to public health. And bizarre stories about shadowy “elites” protect real elites from scrutiny and challenge.

While I’m not suggesting this is his purpose, it’s a tactic used deliberately by powerful people to disarm those who might otherwise hold them to account. Donald Trump’s former chief strategist, Steve Bannon, had a term for it: “flood the zone with shit”. As Naomi Klein has shown, the Great Reset conspiracy theory was conceived by a staffer at the Heartland Institute, a US lobby group that has promoted climate denial and other billionaire-friendly positions. It’s a bastardisation of her shock doctrine hypothesis, distracting people from the malfeasance of those with real power.

[tamelee]

What do you think of itachi? Do you think he was good or bad? As a brother? As a person, character?

I think a whole lot about Itachi, but I don’t have a strong opinion that leans either way nor do I think it can be so easily categorized. The story explains Itachi’s actions, but there’s a lot of criticism right? People feel like Kishimoto didn’t stay consistent or changed his mind on Itachi too suddenly. Personally, I don’t think ‘a change being sudden’ is really the problem, but there is lack of foreshadowing deeper-seated feelings Itachi may have had about certain situations. A little sub-text to refer back to after the revelations later on in the story would’ve been nice. (And uh, well, there’s the system issues.)

I’m referring mostly to this scene:

In storytelling, stakes are crucial as they provide all the motivation a character may have to make a decision (especially the drastic ones) and I feel like Kishimoto hasn’t done that as much as I know he could’ve with Itachi. He didn’t truly show, nor prove, how disastrous it would’ve been if Itachi decided differently. Especially since the aftermath of the complete annihilation of the Uchiha aided in a repercussion (Obito’s plan for example) which may be more consequential than “a possible civil war”. There shouldn’t be any room for “it may not’ve been necessary” in this scenario. But in some of these cases the stakes of Itachi's actions are muddied by alternative possibilities (a tricky thing, writing) and so… it weakens the narrative impact Kishimoto tried to create imo. Both regarding the system, as well as Itachi’s intentions towards Sasuke and the way he went about it. Also, because Sasuke demonstrates throughout the story how perfectly capable he is to develop his abilities and pursuing goals that he prioritizes in every moment. (Hence, Naruto and Sasuke could’ve really been in each other’s shoes.) As well as the whole reincarnation thing that dilutes the stakes because some alien-guy with a staff comes in later to power-boost their asses anyway. 

(Personally I would’ve loved to see the story delve more into Itachi’s internal struggle with war, how he felt growing up and the topic of 'sacrifice' to put less focus on ‘duty’ and Shinobi being ‘tools’ or the meaning of a clan since the Hyuga weren’t treated the same so yeah what is a clan anyway then, but imo that applies to several more characters.)

Hm’ many conversations about Itachi often revolve around justifying or condemning his actions. However, I think (and I don’t say this often because I’m a strong Kishimoto-defender lol) that the valid criticism regarding Itachi could’ve been corrected with a few tweaks within the story itself. (Even a few panels tbh, just to provide the necessary context or clarity.) Despite issues, I don’t think Itachi is a poorly written character. I enjoy morally-grey characters, I just think in this case, it’s not sufficient enough for what it was trying to be… if that makes sense at all? 

Tbh, it’s a lot more satisfying to measure a character like Itachi through Sasuke’s perspective. His journey provides the necessary lens to determine whether to agree or disagree. I feel like many pro-stans project their own feelings about Itachi onto Sasuke, but whether they align or not, he has his own conclusions eventually. It's what the story shows is 'right' not what you personally think is 'right', yeah? The complexity is what makes Itachi a good character to me, but story-wise as a person I don’t agree with his actions and I think Kishimoto could've presented things better to suit the narrative he's going for. 

[rosethornewrites]

T & G reading since 10/30

Finished

Teen:

a Ghost and a Requiem, by 7potato (🔒)

Wei Wuxian was dead.

He didn't remember much, but that's nothing new. He had mere flashes of reality that broke their way through the fog of... wherever he was.

His clearest memory was of a song.

Or: Wei Wuxian remembers what happened to him while he was dead. Things change accordingly.

The Nerd and the Jade Prince, by Asmayi

Best friends Wangxian drift apart as they grow older Or so Wei Ying thinks.

A fic created from a threadfic

you and me, by googiefvcks

lan wangji is hiding wei wuxian in cloud recesses and they're safe, for now. but the weight of the world is on their shoulders and some friendly banter can quickly turn into some deep, painful, emotional talks.

major plot spoilers warning!!

Demonic Possession and other Misconceptions, by LegacyWorks (🔒, 3 chapters)

Wei Wuxian knows from a young age that he’s a spirit. It’s the only thing that makes sense. This body clearly isn’t his, there’s no way. It doesn’t look right. Every so often he sends a quick thanks and a prayer to the Wei Ying who died all those years ago, the one whose body he’s inhabited his entire conscious life. He hopes that the original Wei Ying’s parents are with him now, even if Wei Wuxian misses them.

It takes meeting Huaisang to realize that maybe Wei Wuxian isn’t actually possessing his body. What even is gender.

this river runs to you, by sundiscus

Framed by the soft morning light, sleek hair swept back and pale blue robes not even slightly rumpled, he looks almost inhuman.

He looks like the last person who should be knocking on Wei Wuxian’s door.

In which Wei Wuxian is a curse worker secretly searching for a lost dragon, Lan Wangji is his new assistant, and the two things may not be entirely unrelated.

And The World Went On, by GrapefruitSketches

Day 12: Rebirth (Untamed Spring Fest 2020)

Lan Xichen leaves seclusion. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji persuade him to talk to them about it.

Wei Ying has a very weird day and Wen Chao gets threatened, by Backwards_and_forwards_unpredictively (2 chapters)

In the middle of the Wen Archery competition, the Yiling Lazou drops in. Literally.

(AKA Various drabbles where Older!Wei Wuxian drops in on 15/16 year old Wei Ying)

General:

Loving You From Where I Stand, by GusuBunnie

It hasn’t been long since Wei Ying moved into his new apartment— a mere 6 months, but nonetheless, he loves it. The place was cozy and suitable for a single person like him. Every convenient stop was within walking vicinity and it was a very nice neighborhood. But the most alluring thing, for Wei Ying, was the handsome man who lived in the complex across from his.

Or

Wei Ying is helplessly and deeply in love with his neighbor even though they have never talked.

Jin Zixuan Does the Time Warp, by marigold_sigil (🔒)

Happy endings are not created by wet noodles like Jin Zixuan. Maybe if Lady Fate pushes him two decades into the past hard enough, he’ll actually manage to pull it off. Neither of them think this will really work. Jin Zixuan should have more faith in himself.

Or : How Jin Zixuan trips and stumbles his way into making friends, subsequently keeping everyone alive except the people who don’t deserve it.

Painted Fans, by LaenaEverwood

There are rumors of cultivators randomly falling unconscious in this remote town near Qishan, the victims passing away within a few weeks.

Recently it had claimed another victim.

"Hanguang-jun, I have been given news that may be of great importance. It is from the head disciple Lan Sizhui, regarding Senior Wei."

The brush in Lan Wangji's grip nearly snaps within it's strength.

Or, wwx is found unconscious under an unknown spell, and everyone isn't stopping until he wakes up from his sleep.

redemption, repentance, by stiltonbasket

Five months after the Sunshot Campaign, Jin Zixuan travels to Lotus Pier to ask for Jiang Yanli's hand in marriage.

Waiting on the Night Hunt, by JustAWanderingBabbit (🔒, 10 chapters)

A few post-novel pieces wherein Wen Ning gets some respect. Though he has to work for it.

C1: The Abyss Looks Back

C2: Finding a Use for Stray Dogs

C3: Stepping out of Isolation

C4: Blissful Ignorance, Wretched Knowledge

C5: The Dead Travel Fast

C6: An Arrow's Flight

C7: Learning Experiments

C8: Hide & Seek

C9: The Price of a Thing (read before Pieces of Us fic if you're reading that one too.)

c10: Home is the Hunter

there's a world inside where dreamers meet each other, by harborshore

Lan Zhan dreams. And waits.

Lan Zhan gets glasses…and Wei Ying sees things differently…, by Liebing

This fic is inspired by this adorable art that @kunogi drew from my suggestion on Twitter!

Lan Zhan in glasses

One day Lan Zhan comes to school wearing glasses and Wei Ying loses his god damn mind…

painted in light, by curiositea (🔒, 2nd in a series)

Sometimes Lan Qiren wonders if his nephew resents the rabbits, even if only a little, for making it impossible to completely bury his grief. Are they companions or yet another reminder? Lan Qiren has always prided himself on knowing his nephews, understanding A-Zhan’s reserve and A-Huan’s polite façade. But, without the rabbits, he wonders if he would know just how deep—how down to the marrow, the very atom—A-Zhan’s grief goes.

—

or, a small meditation on a loved one's grief.

I Tried to Be Nice, But My Boyfriend's Bunnies Want To Beet You Up, by katje (🔒, 2nd in a series)

If you had told Wei Ying a few months ago that he would be desperately trying to hold two twenty-five-pound rabbits (who were far heavier than they should be because of their indulgent fathers who were incapable of refusing them treats) back from completely decimating Awful Su She’s stock of bok choy while trying to run his own booth at the Farmer’s Market, he would’ve laughed at the absurdity of the mental image of that statement.

But, dear reader, that was not only a mental image, but Wei Ying’s reality every week for the entire summer season.

OR

Wei Ying and his continuing battle to have one (1) moment of peace at the Farmer's Market

since then i am because you are, by sarahyyy

Lan Wangji nods. “If you must marry,” he says again, “don’t let it be with anyone else.”

“I don’t think you understand the concept of marriage, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says with a smile. “I don’t think I can marry myself.” He lets out a laugh at the thought, before Lan Wangji’s words click in his head. “Unless you mean…”

Lan Wangji holds his gaze.

“Jiang Cheng?” Wei Wuxian asks incredulously.

Unfinished

Teen:

Rabbit Charm, by aoeros (🔒)

“You gotta promise me that when you’re back home and settled in, I’ll be the first you come to see. Because I’m going to miss you more than anyone else will, Lán Zhàn. Except your brother, of course.”

“Of course. I promise to come find you first after I’ve settled back in.”

“Great! Then I promise to call you whenever I can. And, I will definitely not forget you.”

I got kidnapped by a model???, by yamadori (Katsumi27)

In retrospect, it was only a matter of time. As much as he wanted it and believed it to be possible, it was silly to think he could get through art school on Madame Yu's dollar. No, it's definitely better this way.

Wei Wuxian finally gets kicked out of art school. In the past three months not a soul from his old life has heard from him and he'd like to keep it that way thank you very much. And although it's been far from easy, things are starting to look up for him. That is, until he's dragged bodily into a world of vanity and flashing lights that he has no business being in and shoved into the arms of the worlds most gorgeous man (or at least man-shaped heavenly being, Wei Wuxian is convinced he can't be mortal).

Lean On Me (An Anthology of Jin Ling's Uncles), by thesassyredvulpes

Six months after the events of the Guanyin Temple, the sixteen-year-old Jin Ling rises to his new role as Clan Leader Jin. As the youngest clan leader in history, he faces challenges and looks to different figures in his life for guidance.

Six men individually offer their insight to the young man, and through him, recall their own stories and identities.

A collection of short stories, inspired by the song lyrics of "Lean On Me" by Bill Withers. Borrows both canons of the Untamed and The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, but leans more towards the live-action.

Story One: Sorrow (Jiang Cheng)

General:

An Unforseen Shift, by Remma3760

Wei Wuxian found a resentful sword deep in the bowels of a famed beast. He took it. That turned out to be fortunate since, it would seem, the sword had more than one purpose. That sword was the key to their escape from certain death trapped in the cave of the Slaughter Xuanwu.

The Unintended, by Indelible_Faith (TheWaterGoddess), Thedivinewriter_20

Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang have a perfect plan. Get Lan Wangji to confess how much Wei Wuxian annoys him out loud. And Jin Zixuan to confess his ill-treatment of Jiang Yanli in a similar manner.

Perhaps “confess” was the wrong word used here… because this is not turning out how they imagined it, at all!

[that-ari-blogger]

A Weird Finale (For Good)

Catharsis is a weirdly complex emotion. Weird in the sense of how it operates. Catharsis isn’t an emotion, that’s kind of the whole point, but it acts like one. Catharsis makes you feel better, it makes you laugh or cry or maybe both, and there are very few literary tools as powerful as the ability to make your audience emote.

Catharsis is the releasing of strong emotions. If I tell a joke, the catharsis is the punch line. If I tell a sad story about a friend getting badly injured, the catharsis is the conclusion where I tell you that they are ok.

Case and point, For Good is the final song of Wicked. Kind of. It isn’t really, the story continues afterwards, and a song called Finale follows that. But For Good feels like the conclusion a story. It certainly reflects on the events of the musical as a whole, and makes a conclusion going forward.

It is also one of the two songs in all of musical theatre that I cannot make it through without crying, and this post is my defence of that inability.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD: (Wicked, Hazbin Hotel, Andor)

“I'm limited Just look at me I'm limited And just look at you You can do all I couldn't do Glinda So now it's up to you For both of us Now it's up to you”

Elphaba has failed in her journey. She wanted total freedom, and she couldn’t achieve it. She wanted the ability to make a change in the world, but she was just one person. She failed.

The reuse of the Unlimited Lite Motif shows the other side of the coin that is Glinda and Elphaba’s relationship. It brought them both what they wanted. Together, they were unlimited, but alone… there’s this.

The limit actually corresponds to more than just physical freedom. They both wanted to be free, to be unshackled by their own capabilities. They wanted unlimited power, and Elphaba couldn’t achieve that, but she believes Glinda could. Although Glinda would disagree.

“I've heard it said That people come into our lives For a reason Bringing something we must learn And we are led to those Who help us most to grow if we let them And we help them in return Well, I don't know if I believe that's true But I know I'm who I am today Because I knew you”

I had a whole thing planned to write about fate here, but I don’t think it’s the point. Because if you focus too much on what might be, you miss what actually is.

Wicked is a story about dreams and reality colliding, and the answer to which will come out on top, is “neither”. Elphaba chased her dreams to the end and found them unobtainable. Glinda, meanwhile, saw her friend achieve great things in real time.

Don’t stop chasing a better tomorrow. That isn’t what I’m saying here. But don’t think that the change will be sudden and one day you will reach that eutopia. Change is slow, and it happens as you go. Elphaba, for example, has been saving people, and inspiring people. Oz hasn’t been saved, but she’s made progress.

The first chorus, as is usual for a song in this musical, is understated, and building to something bigger. It's laying the groundwork for later events.

The fact that Glinda’s phrases are offset is a continuation of something that began in I’m Not That Girl (Reprise), her casualness.

When Galinda was introduced, she spoke with a practiced poise, that was evenly metred so that it was impossible to notice when a song started for her. She had, in a very real sense, always been singing and never actually spoken.

This is the opposite of that, Glinda’s words feel more real, because the timing creates a casual vibe that I take to be more genuine.

Wicked has been playing around with time signatures since the beginning, usually to represent indecision or an inconsistency reminiscent of how fae realms are represented in mythology and literature. It feels whimsical.

Here the awkward bar is used to emphasise Glinda’s words. “I have been changed.”

I have found myself recommending covers of these songs, so to continue that streak, Voiceplay's Wicked medley is phenomenal, and the For Good section is especially memorable.

Glinda doesn’t know or even care about fate or what was meant to be. She is astonishingly real and pragmatic, and she can see Elphaba’s success in a way that her friend can’t.

Elphaba has become the Wizard, in a sense. She has inspired people to take their lives into their own hands. She has promised people a better world, but instead of the Wizard’s false hope, Elphaba delivered, and showed people that if they try, they can improve the lives of generations to come.

Glinda can see that Elphaba changed at least one person and made them want better, and she can carry on that legacy.

In other words:

“You've already done so much So many lives you've changed So many souls you've touched And in the end, if it's only me you've saved There's something that I've been dying to say”

Hazbin Hotel is satirical musical that deals with seeking freedom. It’s most definitely not Wicked, it’s theming is different and when I do a series on it, I will talk about that at length. But it does have a song that links to For Good.

There’s a difference between having done enough, and being done. If you only save one person, you are a hero. If you make life better for one person, and inspire them to pay that favour forwards, you have made your mark. You have your legacy.

But Elphaba has done far more than just save one person. Again, if she has inspired Glinda, she must have inspired someone else as well. And when Glinda drives away the Wizard, and presumably does more to help the citizens of Oz who are oppressed, that’s because of Elphaba.

This song in Hazbin Hotel is also a love song. I wonder if that is relevant.

“I burn my decency for someone else’s future. I burn my life to make a sunrise that I’ll never see.”

Andor is a surprisingly well-made series. As in, the Star-Wars fandom has been starved for a while for stories that say anything. So, when Andor began exploring some complex philosophy, people missed that the show was also just genuinely good craft.

But it is the messaging that I want to talk about here, briefly. Andor discusses the cost of rebellion, and in one of the several incredible monologues of the series, Luthen Rael explains that, among other things, he is making a better world for future generations. One that he will probably never receive. Like Moses delivering people to a promised land that he, himself, would never reach.

Legacy is important to both Luthen and Elphaba. Their futures are marked by conflict, but they exist so that later generations will live without that.

I would also recommend this cover by Jacob Daniel Cummings and Peter Gibbons. They are both talented vocalists, but the simplicity of the music video and set design are really cool, and the fading from monochrome to colour is a nice touch.

This song precedes Elphaba’s “death”, and it centres around Glinda telling her and the audience that it was all worth it. That’s the catharsis, whatever happens next, Elphaba has succeeded.

“You'll be with me Like a handprint on my heart And now whatever way our stories end I know you have rewritten mine By being my friend”

The romance of this musical has been implied. Evidence through subtext, rather than what is actually being shown. It got pretty strong, but an entirely aromantic reading of their relationship was possible, if you squinted.

However, I would argue that this isn’t subtext. I would suggest that “you’ll be with me like a handprint on my heart” is innately romantic in nature.

“Like a comet pulled from orbit As it passes the sun Like a stream that meets a boulder Halfway through the wood”

At this point, the song spits out a ton of metaphors, and I’m not going to go over each one. So as a whole, these stand in for that catharsis. This is Elphaba and Glinda finally letting out their emotions and stopping limiting themselves.

Defying Gravity reflected the first half of Wicked by displaying Elphaba’s freedom from external forces. But the second half featured the battle with herself and her own abilities and emotions. So, letting go of all of that and saying “I love you” in every way imaginable except the obvious certainly counts as releasing emotions.

This is the other part of the catharsis that I talked about. Half of the drama of this musical has been the development of the relationship; however you see that, between Glinda and Elphaba. That relationship fell apart, hence the tragic nature of this musical, but it did so quickly and without much closure.

So now, the two can look back on it and say, with definite confidence, that it was, in fact, a relationship.

Again, I will claim that this is romantic because friendship isn’t that powerful, usually. Friendship can change people, but romance can change a person’s story, and their life. A friendship doesn’t leave “a handprint on my heart”, for example.

I am actually having trouble articulating why this is romantic. It just is, look at it. You have to prove that it isn’t at this point.

The acting here sells the romance as well. The blinking back of tears, the faltering in each word. Emotions are running high through this song.

That is why I love this song. That is why this is my favourite song in all of musical theatre. That is why this song makes me cry.

This song is the resolution of a complex, and heavy story. It looks at the future to talk about legacy, but it also looks at the past to say “see what Elphaba has achieved”.

The song itself isn’t even the thing that makes me cry here. The emotional element of this is the story that got you here. Wicked is emotional, but it makes you hold all of that in, until For Good releases that.

Essentially, I like For Good because I like Wicked, and when I listen to the song, I listen to an entire story.

Final Thoughts

This was really difficult to analyse because the song isn’t complicated on its own right. Like I said, it’s the fact that it is the conclusion to Wicked that gives it the emotional gravitas.

But I do want to clarify something. This post should have gone out on Wednesday, but it will probably go live on Sunday instead, and there is a reason for this.

Partly, I am disorganised as hell. But partly, I have been struggling to explain why this song is queer or even romantic in nature. It is, and I will defend my opinion on that, but my excuse for it being that is… look at it, it’s so obviously romantic.

I think my answer is linked to my conclusion about this song as a whole. This is a romantic song because the entire musical has been about the romance between Elphaba and Glinda, so it carries over that weight. This song is queer because that relationship was queer. All this song does is amplify what you take into it, and that’s a weirdly empty description for something so powerful.

But I guess, in a way, that’s how stories operate as a whole. You only get out of them what you are willing to put in. If you engage with a character, and you pour your heart into that character, you will probably be rewarded tenfold. But that takes a mixture of good craft, the right story (because no story is for everyone), and a great deal of vulnerability on the part of you. Emotions can hurt, and to engage with a story, you have to be willing to let yourself feel that. But the risk is well worth the reward, at least with Wicked.

This mostly wraps up my coverage of Wicked. I will be compiling a complete summary of my ideas for the musical at some point. But before that, I will be starting my coverage of another musical, one with slightly different themes.

So stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

[voidandabyssal]

Mmkay im gonna talk a little on lusttale.

Now Im not gonna lie, I know very little about the original lusttale, only that there was a lot of controversy around it; supposedly because it glorified sexual assault and sexualised children? I don’t know how true that is tho, so take it with a grain of salt.

But it’s an interesting au anyways, so I’m gonna have my own take on it!

Chara and Asriels death was the start of a slow decline for Monsters. Everyone fell into a dark depression, hope was lost; and though eventually people moved on from their lost heirs, things changed.

Fertility rates dropped shockingly low. Children were becoming increasingly rare. Extinction was becoming a very real threat for Monster kind.

King Asgore ordered the royal scientist to find a fix for this issue.

The lust serum was created. Not that thats what they called it at first, thats just the popular nickname the inhabitants started to call it.

Toriel is one of the few monsters not to have taken the serum. Instead she, and a few dozen other adult Monsters decided to start residing in the ruins. There isn’t as much tension between herself and asgore. He was more then happy to let toriel live there if she pleased (its not like their marriage was thriving anyways).

Though he was saddened at the thought of never having another child like Asriel again.

When Monster children are born, they may spend a few months to a few years with their birth parents before being sent to the ruins

There, they are communally raised alongside all the other children by Toriel and her Keepers. Once they reach the age of majority, they’re given a choice.

Either take the serum, and thus be able to leave the ruins and enter into Monster society with all the freedoms of an adult,

Or stay in the ruins. They would join Toriels Keepers and would help raise the children of the underground. In this case they wouldnt take the serum. They’d be the caretakers of all the little children.

Monsters primarily focus on the lust aspect of a relationship nowadays. A wedding hasn’t happened in a very long time

Most relationships are either casual or very short lived. Some Monsters aren’t even sure love is something they can feel anymore,

How could they when lust is all they’ve known?

Passion (LT papyrus) is a pretty flamboyant guy. His dream is to work for the royal guard and he has a huge soft spot for anything (or anyone) cute looking.

Passions also a hopeless romantic, he’s daydreamed about his one true love since he was a babybones. Which frequently leads to him excitedly jumping into new relationships and then getting heart broken only weeks or months later when he realised they aren’t actually who he imagined they were and breaks up with them.

Him and Undyne have been besties since childhood, Dior jokes that they must’ve had the same mother with how close they are.

Passion worries for Dior, he’s his brother and he can see how depressed Dior gets. Passions not blind, he knows his brother well enough to see through that facade.

Dior (LT sans) is a hard working man. He works at Grillbys as a sex worker. Grillby allows him and his brother to eat and drink there for free so long as Dior keeps bringing in customers.

He’s worked there since he left the ruins. Him and Grillby are pretty close friends. Probably the only person aside from Passion he actually likes.

Diors a real fashionista, he loves designer clothes, shoes and perfumes. Nothing makes him more powerful then a good looking dress and powerful set of high heels.

Very pessimistic man under all those smiles though. He thinks Passion is naive. Love doesn’t exist! Thats something for fairytales and babybones!

he’s worked long enough to know that everyone is just looking for an easy way to relieve stress. ‘Love’ is just some fancy dressed up word for lust!

[luce-speaks]

the car scene

written for @fe-aspec-week 2024! this is set in echoes dnd au (created by me and @good-beanswrites), in which the plot of Echoes is the plot of the group’s d&d game. scenes in italics take place in-game.

—

Lukas sighs. “Honestly, Python? I'm not sure if I love her or not. Since being parted from her, I feel no particular longing to see her again.”

(He stops briefly, glancing around the table, trying to gauge if he’s doing okay. It doesn’t seem right to spend too much session time on his character’s personal issues, but everyone seems content enough. He decides to continue.)

“I sometimes wonder if a vital part of me is broken. I look at Clive and Mathilda and see... Well, you used the word "fire". But whatever it is that they have, I seem to lack it.”

Python punches him on the shoulder. “Aw, don't you worry. The ‘one true love’ thing isn't for everyone. Certainly not for me. And I dare anyone to tell me that I’m broken.”

Lukas blinks. “So you think such a lack of feelings is… normal?”

This time, when Python leans in, he throws his arm around him, for a sort of half-hug that Lukas politely tolerates. “Perfectly.”

—

The session ends soon after, with cheerful goodbyes exchanged as they all filter out of Mila’s fancy apartment. Lukas joins the other two in Forsyth’s beater of a car, and they begin the thirty-minute trip back to their apartment complex.

It’s silent in the car for a few minutes, interrupted only by the staticky hum of the radio that refuses to turn all the way off and the ever-concerning rumble of the engine. And then—

“Y’know,” Python says abruptly, “it’s pretty cool that you made your character aro.”

Forsyth nods. “It is! You never see that in fantasy stories. It’s pretty sad.”

“…What?”

The car goes dead quiet again. The rumbling engine sounds louder than ever.

“Luke…”

“That was on purpose, right?” Forsyth says, craning around to peer at Lukas in the backseat.

Python elbows him. “Eyes on the road, Fors.”

“Yeah, but he—”

Lukas sighs. “Can one of you explain what you’re talking about?”

Now it’s Python’s turn to lean across the center console (and Lukas’s turn to wonder how these two haven’t gotten themselves into a car accident yet.) “So, that stuff you were saying in the last scene. How he wasn’t in love with that backstory character, and maybe not with anyone else, either? And he feels like he’s broken because of it?”

He nods, unsure where this is going. “I… thought it made sense for the character.”

“It does,” Forsyth says. “And it also sounds a lot like he might be aromantic.”

“Aro, for short,” Python adds. “It means you’re not interested in anyone like that—romantically, I mean. Like me.”

“You’re… not?” Lukas frowns. “But I thought—at the game cafe—”

“Hey, aromantic and asexual are two different things. Which I only happen to be one of.” Python grins. “So, y’know, if you ever—”

“PYTHON!” Forsyth turns away from the wheel again, this time grabbing his friend by the shoulder. “Can you at least save it until we’re out of the car?”

“Hey, eyes on the road!”

“I know! If you hadn’t started—“

Lukas tunes out the arguing in the front seat, too preoccupied with his own thoughts to keep track of what they’re talking about. He feels a bit guilty for (accidentally) tricking his new friends into thinking he made his character like this on purpose. For making something that spoke to them, made them feel seen, only to have to explain that it was all happenstance. It feels like a betrayal of some sort, even if he didn’t intend it.

But, then again, there’s something else bothering him. Memories resurfacing, of his parents asking him when he’ll get married, of school dances and college parties, of a thousand little moments that each left a bad taste in his mouth. He always figured it would change when he got older, or when he got away from his parents—but he’s done both, hasn’t he? He’s almost thirty, and he’s living alone, and he’s never once wished for someone else to share that bed with him. He’s never thought too hard about it, but…

“Python,” he says nervously. “How exactly do you know you’re aro?”

“Uh—”

“The general ‘you’, I mean, not you specifically,” he adds quickly. “Just… how do you figure it out? How do you know you’re not just…” He trails off, unsure how to finish that sentence.

Python glances at Forsyth. Forsyth, for once, stays focused on the road, where he’s trying to merge into the left lane of the highway. Python turns back to Lukas.

“Uh,” he says again. “Usually, I think, you just get tired of waiting. S’what I did. Got bored of waiting for something to change and decided to go my own way. There’s not really a process to it. You just… make up your mind.”

“And it’s okay if you change it later!” Forsyth adds. “Using a label isn’t something you have to commit to forever. If it stops being helpful to you, you stop using it.”

“Oh.” They make it sound so simple, he thinks. “I… I need some time to think about all this. It… makes sense, I just…”

“Hey, there’s no rush,” Python says.

Forsyth nods. “Take your time. We’ll be here if you need anything.”

“And for what it’s worth—” Python turns toward the backseat again, looking Lukas directly in the eye. “You’re not broken, Luke. No matter what anyone told you. Okay?”

Lukas nods, still lost for words, before choking out a “Thank you.” The path ahead of him is treacherous, but in this moment—in the back of Forsyth’s shitty car, surrounded by people who support him, wrapped in the hum of the engine—he feels like he can take it all.

(When he officially comes out at another D&D session a few weeks later, he receives a hearty round of hugs and congratulations, none more enthusiastic than Python and Forsyth’s. It’s the happiest he’s felt in a long, long time.)

[bahbahhh]

begin again

a lot of change happens in between Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom. let’s fill in the gaps. zelda pov | zelink | totk spoilers | multichapter| rated T zelinkweek2023 | @zelinkcommunity [story index] [also read on ao3 ]

Again, I can't thank @zeldaelmo enough. It has been an absolute honor to have your eye and your ear! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

chapter 7

for zelink week "free day"

Her cot is gone. 

Zelda stares at the empty spot on the second floor of Purah’s Lab, adventure pouch dangling on the very tips of her fingers. She caught it just before it dropped onto the floor. She had meant to deposit onto the cot, eager to relieve the extra tension from her tired shoulders when she noticed it was missing at the last second.  

She narrows her eyes and glances about the room, everything ordinary and untouched, save for her trunk of belongings, which is also missing. She frowns at this, having wanted to spend her free time reviewing Tauro’s research notes again. In addition to possibly connecting the Thyphlo Ruins to the Zonai, he recently presented evidence that the Labyrinths in Akkala, Hebra and the Gerudo Desert are Zonai as well and hypothesized that the Zonai maintained a presence in the sky and below the ground.  

Something about the Zonai has caught her attention, a tug on a line from the depths of the past. Sure, it could just be her energy shifting from one technologically advanced civilization to the next, but whereas the Sheikah Technology felt more like an escape, the Zonai and their ruins feel like a calling. 

Who knows. The fact of the matter is, right now, it's all missing with the rest of her things. 

Recently, Purah has been reorganizing parts of her laboratory at random. She claims it’s another bizarre side effect of her re-aging. Symin thinks it's the result of being held responsible for cleaning up after herself. 

Zelda sighs and back peddles to the stairs, pulling the strap back over her shoulder.

“Purah?” 

Zelda descends into the main floor and nearly trips over a box of scrolls. Dozens more clutter the space; filled with papers and construction parts and other miscellaneous items. Zelda spots fishing nets, a dozen yellow paper lanterns, and massive coils of hollow wire, but her belongings and the Sheikah Director are nowhere to be found. Link isn’t here, either. Not that she was expecting him, he told her early in the day he would be with the Hateno monster defense team, helping to clear out a hoard of bokoblins that moved into the Milda Woods to the west of the village. Since he’s teaching them how to properly handle the monsters and safeguard the woods with traps more efficiently, he estimated it would take a while. 

She, on the other hand, spent the majority of the day helping a man Bolson with the final touches at the school. Zelda originally commissioned Hudson to help her build out Hateno School, but he wrote back with the recommendation his former boss be the one to handle it as he was responsible for the revitalization of Hateno following Calamity Ganon’s attack. 

There is something to be said about starting something and being able to see it through, you know? Hudson had written. 

Zelda formally nominated him for a position of leadership in New Hyrule the same day. 

Bolson showed her how to put together the small chairs, explaining where to put the nails to create a lasting, sturdy joint. He also taught her how to hold the nails to minimize the risk to her fingers under the glare of a hammer. When they were done, he shook the sawdust out of his thick fur collar, kissed her on the cheek, and handed her the blueprints so she could put together more in the future. She’s got a few splinters she’ll need to dig out of her fingers, but they come with a sense of accomplishment and hope she hasn’t known in over a century. 

Zelda peers into the kitchen. “Symin? Purah? Hello?” 

The lab is completely empty. She crosses the room, pushes the door open, and steps back out into the fresh air. The village of Hateno is always busy in the afternoon. Today, there is a nice breeze turning the giant windmill blades lazily. There has been recent talk about updating the village face, specifically the market front to entice more travelers. There is a rumor that a new business owner, a fashion designer, has proposed integrating mushrooms into the architecture.

Zelda wonders if the windmills will stay.

She has a few books at Link’s place, so she decides to head that way while she looks for Purah. She’s almost immediately stopped by a group of children, the same she will be teaching once the school is open. One of the children asks about the first day of school and another formally requests - please, oh pretty please, Miss Zelda! - they have a designated time every day for coloring. Zelda sends them on their way, slips into Kochi Dye Shop, and asks if Sayge can donate some dye for her to make courser beeswax crayons. 

“Basic colors, okay? Or, I could experiment and come up with an extensive palette for you, if you like?” Sayge says, filling up five small vials with concentrated ink. 

“I think this is a great start, thank you so much. Perhaps you would be interested in presenting to the class in the future? I wo—”

“Say no more! An opportunity to share the traditional craft of Hateno dyeing with the younger generation? It would be my honor! ‘We live–”

“To dye!’” Zelda smiles and takes the vials. “I’m writing out a curriculum with Symin. I’ll let you know when it makes sense to have you come in.”

“Splendid! Oh, and–” He looks over her shoulder and she knows he’s searching for Link. Sayge continues in a hushed voice. “About that order we discussed. I’ve almost landed on the correct shade of blue. Should be able to replicate the tunic exactly. I do have additional armor I’d recommend to go with the piece, in order to protect it from wear and tear moving forward. How do you feel about leather?”

“If it will offer protection without restricting mobility, I think that’s great.”

“Come by in a week or so. I’ll send Link on an errand and then I’ll show you what I’m thinking.” He winks at her.

Zelda tucks the ink away carefully and smiles. “Perfect.”

Pruce waves her down as she passes the East Wind. He anxiously invites her into his shop, shuts the door to prospective customers, and immediately asks for her thoughts on phasing out the bomb arrows. Apparently, he had been threatened with a fee by Reede for improper dangerous weapon storage. Zelda can tell he’s offended and embarrassed, having previously displayed the explosive arrows in a straw basket for anyone, including a curious child, to handle. She gently reframes this as an opportunity to be a model business owner and that seems easier for him to stomach. He donates his entire stock of arrows to her for Link and the monster defense efforts. Luckily, she has a quiver in her adventure pouch that she pulls out and attaches to her belt so she can carry them safely. 

Prima catches her just outside the shop and enthusiastically introduces Zelda to her fiance, Worten. They’ve met, many times, and Zelda was made aware, multiple times by Prima, of the engagement, and still she smiles and waits for Prima to finish telling the story of how he proposed. 

She makes it a few more steps before a Zora warrior stops her. There has been more traffic from the Zora through the village in recent weeks, a source of massive curiosity with the children (and most of the adults, too) who had never seen the “fish people” from the north, except for during the Restoration Summit almost two years ago. They come up from the Necluda Sea from Hateno Bay, restocking supplies, sending messages back to their Domain via courier. Divine Beast Ruta was put to rest in the deep waters of the ocean, an arrangement struck with the settlement of Zora that call the seas home. Apparently, Prince Sidon had been hidden away there for protection for a time during his youth after Calamity Ganon’s siege and Mipha’s death. He formed a strong bond with the Princess there. 

The Zora shares, rather cryptically, to be on the lookout for “exciting” news from Zora’s Domain, regarding Prince Sidon. There have been rumors of leadership following in Impa’s footsteps, whispers of the great Zora King finally stepping down from the throne. The Rito are already turning feathers. Most recently, Zelda heard Teba was the popular choice to ascend. 

She parts ways with the Zora, who heads back in the direction of the bay, and picks up her pace to convey urgency. Not that she minds the interaction, she sees all the hands reaching for her now, and finds great purpose in the quiet ways she can nurture Hateno Village especially, but sometimes it takes her an hour, like today, just to walk from one side of the village to the next. And now that Purah has seen fit to move all her things without much consideration to the very specific order to her chaos or the possessiveness of what little Zelda has to her name, her cot feels more impermanent and insecure than ever. 

If only she had a hidden place, like her study in the tower, where she could keep her things and be with her thoughts in peace without worry of interruption…

She spots Link’s house on the hill.  Zelda glances to the west, at the empty spot in the horizon atop Marblod Plain where the Hateno Sheikah Tower once stood. When the shrines were finally all gone, they realized the blue flames inside the towers and the furnaces were dying off. Without power, the towers began to crumble in on themselves, leaving a pile of rubble and dust that will be dealt with in time. Purah intends to go through what remains to see if anything can be repurposed for the new towers, but by the looks of her laboratory, the design is better suited with materials that are new and synced to her Purah Pad. The skeletons of the Sheikah furnaces will be tossed off the cliffs and into their respective surrounding sea by the Sheikah this summer.

Like pyre ash. 

She’s so distracted by the finality of it all and the comfort she feels that she almost runs into him.

“I’m sorry!” Zelda exclaims, and then upon recognizing who it is, grabs Link by the shoulders to steady herself. He laughs, a sound more frequent and unburdened since the Great Plateau, and steps into her, threading a hand up into her hair at the base of her neck.

He kisses her until she’s dizzy. 

She’s not sure she’ll ever get used to this, or if she even wants to. The luxury of this closeness, the casualness with which he always seems to reach for her, like it’s always been the easiest, most obvious thing in the world for him to do. 

“Hi,” she says when he finally pulls back. His eyes linger in a hungry way on her mouth, long enough to twist her stomach pleasantly.

“Hi.”

“I thought you’d still be gone? Did you clear all the monsters already?”

He tucks her hair behind her ears. “I lied.”

Zelda blinks. “You lied?”

He nods, looking a little smug.

“What do you mean, you lied?”

He steps back enough to sign. ‘I wasn’t taking care of monsters in the woods today. That’s tomorrow. Are those for me?’ Link slides his hand down the length of her side to her hip where the quiver full of bomb arrows sits. She shivers.

“The arrows? No–well, I suppose yes. I finally convinced Pruce to remove them from his store front. Bit of an odd and hazardous mix, you know, wheat, eggs, goat butter, explosive arrows. I suppose you can have them for the monster defense…which you said now is tomorrow?”

‘Always has been.’ He turns and starts walking them up to his house. Zelda follows him curiously, still a little too giddy from the kiss to be cross with him.  

“Why lie about that?”

‘Didn’t want to spoil the surprise.’

“Surprise?”

Link pulls out a key from his pocket and unlocks the door. His house has been almost completely gutted. The weapon mounts are gone, a few empty picture frames hanging from the nails in the wall. The furniture has been cleared out, the table empty. He’s added a stove. She can see a few boxes under the stairs, perhaps where all of his things are tucked away or the restart of provisions storage for next winter.

“You lied so you could clean out your house?” She furrows her brow at him.

“Your house.”

“W-what?”

“It’s your house. Here.” He leads her around the space and then up the stairs. The bed is there, tucked in the far wall, still under the lone window for natural light, and guarded by painted vase on the nightstand with a single flower- a daffodil - to watch over her.  She’s a little surprised it’s not a Silent Princess or another blue nightshade, but it's the first of the flowers to bloom after winter. A symbol of new beginnings.

“Purah’s going to forward all your correspondence until word gets around. I already wrote to Tauro and let him know he can send the next batch of his research here. Riju, too. You can keep the furniture or swap it out for something different. Bolson offered to help redesign the interior. Whatever you like.”

Zelda stands shell-shocked in the center of the loft. There is a desk to her left. She can smell the freshness of the cedar. He built it for her. Across the top, her research notes and books in the same chaotic order they were kept in on the cot at Purah’s. Her trunk sits ready at the end of the bed. 

“It’s really mine?”

“Your home,” he says plainly. Like he’s giving her a cube of sugar for her tea. “I’ll leave you to it. Probably should survey the bokoblin camp before the team head’s out tomorrow. Make sure a Moblin hasn’t joined them.” 

She feels him starting to move, but she can’t take her eyes off the bed. It's more vast than any cot she’s ever known, even with its twin frame, with four sturdy posts and modest pillow; there is enough room for two people to lay side by side comfortably, so long as they fit together. 

Is having a bed what makes you feel rooted to a place? Is it the memorization of cracks in the ceiling to count when you're tired, or having someone who helps you heal the cracks buried deep inside you? Is it a kitchen to escape to in the middle of the night for a slice of fruitcake or a bowl of meat and rice, or having someone who knows how to make it just for you? Is home just having the people you love simply love you back? 

She glances from the bed to the flower to Link and her heart leaps into her throat.

Zelda doesn’t feel any guilt this time, none at all, when she reaches for his hand and tells him:

“Stay.” 

[sparkywrites25]

Hey! I saw you were taking requests for AOT? Could I get one with canon Levi(like his personality matches his in the show) where reader thinks he hates her and confesses their feelings but it turns out he feels the same?

I am so so sorry that this took so freaking long to do. So much for aiming to get a request done in a week. I forgot this was all the way back in April. Three months... yikes. I also started writing this a different way and it wasn't going so well so I restarted it and I feel like this turned out a lot better than the original. Anyway I hope you like it and thank you so much for requesting this.

Summary: Reader has to let her feelings out even if it'll hurt like hell.

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Taglist: @notgoodforlife @youre-ackermine @ladycheesington

Notes: If you like my work and want to see more then please join my taglist. Form is pinned on my blog.

Looking at the stars has always relaxed you. 

Ever since you were a child, you loved to take yourself out into the tiny backyard of your family’s home in Trost, and stare up at the dark heavens which twinkled with a million lights. Your face would light up in wonder each time; your mind already flying away, creating wonderful stories in your imagination about exploring that canvas of beauty. Your mother would find you lying on the ground, watching it all as if it would change before your eyes if you so much as turned away. She’d tease you about it. Later she would tell you how much it calmed you down whenever you threw a tantrum or were upset with one of your brothers. She would send you outside to look up at your favourite sight in the world. 

As you stand on the rooftop of Trost’s Scout base, staring up at those same stars, you realize that maybe she was encouraging you to learn about perspective. How different things can look if you see them from a different angle, or how seeing the same angle with different emotions can make things shift. Your hands are rough and marked by healing cuts from the latest expedition and the weeks of training before it. The price of being strong enough to survive yet another bloodbath. You don’t see the blood or feel the pain that you did at the time all of these marks were made. But they are the same hands, changing with your experiences and with time. It’s a scary thing to think about, change, or it can be a good thing.

You exhale softly and clasp your hands on the stone wall in front of you. You can think of one thing that hasn’t changed, you reflect, despite how many times you’ve stood here and how many different emotions you’ve carried up here all this time. You’re not sure if that is something that will ever change. Maybe it’s just something that you will have to live with, to accept just like these two remaining walls of humanity have accepted that these monsters are their past, present and future. 

It’s been three days since the latest expedition. A period of rest and mourning usually follows for a few days but in the winter it’s longer. As this is the last expedition before the heart of winter arrives, the commander has told everyone to take the week off from training. Some have taken leave to be with their families. Some are just recuperating here. For some, they will be taking terrible news to their families. For others, it’s all they can do to hold themselves together. 

Normally you’d be downstairs with your squad - the Special Operations Squad - talking and trying to find some normality and peace with your comrades. Listening to Petra and Oluo argue. Teasing Eld about his girlfriend. Trying to rattle Gunther into letting slip some tidbits about his personal life. Watching the Captain drink his tea and list everybody’s cleaning chores for the week. The thought of the captain has your nerves quivering with an intoxicating energy that both excites and frightens you. You’ve never felt this strongly about someone who wasn’t a friend or family. You may have no romantic experience - and in truth, until now, you had no interest in getting any - but you know how you feel. 

It’s a fucked up situation; you’ve been reminding yourself of this for weeks now. Training with him and trying not to get distracted by his impressive flexibility and efficient fighting style. You pretend to dread your one-on-ones with the captain in sparring. You pretend that you hate having him watching you train with the rest of the squad. You lie that he intimidates you, that you wouldn’t like to be hauled into his office for anything. All the while you like feeling his attention on you. You like the opportunity to remind him of why he chose you to join his squad. You like being near him and listening to him. You like cleaning his office and talking to him as you work. You love learning the occasional little snippet about him, about what he thinks, what he’s experienced. You like putting together the thousands of little pieces that make up Captain Levi. You take great pride in the fact that he called your tea-making abilities “good” and you have to fight a smile every time he comes over to correct your cleaning. 

Ordinarily you really enjoy the post-mission hangout of your squad too. Tonight, however, the thought of it chokes you. Tonight you’re feeling the weight of the veil you wear; this veil of professionalism, of platonic feeling and comradarie wraps tightly around you. The heaviness of it makes you feel dizzy and nauseous. Even up here, taking in gulps of cold, fresh air, you can feel the veil slipping away from you. With every conversation you have with your captain, you can feel the material sliding away and you have to pull it back. You have to remind yourself that professional boundaries exist and that the reality is extremely high that the captain does not share your feelings. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him show any kind of indication towards anyone. Maybe that’s just his way or maybe he’s just private. Not that it’s any of your business.

If anything, you think as you stare up at the stars, he seems completely disinclined towards even liking you let alone everyone else. He cuts conversation short whenever you’re alone together. Your cleaning irritates the hell out of him. Often it feels like he’s sharper with you than the others. He gives you the duties furthest away from him the most. Your favourite task of cleaning his office is one you’ve done the least out of your squad. He always looks at you with neutral eyes yet he engages with the rest of the squad fairly well. You can’t help but wonder if he regrets taking you into his squad. Maybe he has too much pride to just kick you out. Or maybe he’s just waiting for an excuse?

Thinking about all of this is giving you a headache and you rub at your temples with each of your index fingers. 

“Wanna explain why you’re hiding up here on your own?”

You’re startled into spinning round at the sudden sound of the captain’s voice. Your eyes dart towards the door and to the frowning man currently closing it behind him. Holy fuck, you didn’t even hear him approach, or the door open for that matter. The shame burns through you at once. You really should have been more alert even if it is Captain Levi who appears to have mastered the art of stealthy movements. A flicker of envy licks at the pit of your stomach. In all honesty, you can only dream of being that coordinated. 

The gentle wind that had been blowing through you for half an hour has brought some hair into your face. You reach up to tidy yourself up on instinct as you straighten up into a salute. The fist over your heart presses a bit heavier tonight and you try and push your earlier thoughts from your mind. With the man himself standing there though, this is difficult. 

“I just wanted some time alone, sir,” you answer hastily. It’s not a lie and it’s not an unrealistic answer either. It’s simple. 

The captain approaches you. You note that the circles under his eyes are looking dark again. You wonder that he doesn’t at least try and sleep during quieter periods like this. But then again, maybe he has. Maybe he knows a lost cause when he sees one. 

It must be nice to be able to move on from such things, you think bitterly as you can’t help contemplating your own feelings for him. If only you could leave them behind so you could just feel…  normal with him. That would be pretty nice. The world turns silent as you muse on this. You can no longer feel the wind on your face or the cold in your skin. Everything is muted and it’s not the worst feeling in the world. You stand in that numb state, battling your own thoughts. 

After a moment, you realize that the captain is now standing in front of you. His brow is rumpled with lines of deep annoyance and his narrow eyes are fixed on your face. His lips are moving but you can’t hear his words. He speaks slowly but you can’t read the shapes that he forms. So, you blink slowly and try to focus on him. As soon as you do, the world seems to wake up again. Cold touches your face and you can hear your own breathing that sounds heavy after the silence of a moment ago. 

“Sorry sir,” you manage to rasp. Your voice sounds closed up, like you’re about to cry and you hate it. “I didn’t hear what you said.”

“Really? I’m stood right here and you can’t hear me? You mean you weren’t listening.”

Your cheeks heat up and you consider arguing with him but instead you just bow your head and turn away from him. It’s easier not to look at the irritation he’s wearing or how beautiful his eyes are when they reflect the starlight. Instead, you reach out and hold onto the stone wall, grounding yourself to the moment. 

“Hey.” This time Levi’s voice is gentle. “What’s going on with you?” 

You shake your head because, honestly, you’re not so sure yourself. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly, still not looking at him. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out, I guess.”

To your right, you observe your captain as he steps up to the wall then turns his back to lean on it. He folds his arms and watches you, his gaze softening in a way you have never seen directed at you. You can’t stop yourself from staring back into those enchanting blue-grey orbs. “Petra would say that that would be easier to figure out if you were with us,” he remarked and gave a tiny shrug of his narrow shoulders. 

You manage a weak, crooked smile. “Yeah she would. But I… I don’t really want a group chat right now.”

“You should talk to someone.”

“I don’t think so. It won’t change anything,” you admit and you mentally curse yourself for letting slip even that much. 

��So you do know what’s bugging you.”

You sigh, feeling your patience begin to bleed out and you close your eyes. You remind yourself where you are and who you’re talking to. If this were one of your friends, you’d have snapped at them to leave you alone right now. But you can’t exactly do that with Levi, can you? But at the same time, you can feel this unpleasant feeling creeping over you. A feeling of edge, of broken glass, like you’ll go shooting off into a hundred sharp pieces if this feeling completes itself. Who knows what you might say or do if he doesn’t leave you be? What you might say if this feeling gets to take hold completely. You fix your eyes on the horizon, determined to avoid Levi’s gaze. Maybe if you stay quiet, he’ll just go away. He’s not the most sociable man. He’s not someone who seems all that comfortable with heavy displays or emotion or tolerance for awkward situations. Give it long enough and he might just leave you to it. 

You hear your name being spoken and you close your eyes. You love the sound of those syllables in his baritone voice. You hate that you like it so much. 

“Sir.” Once again you sound fragmented. “Please just leave me be.”

“No.” Levi’s quick answer surprises you and you turn your head slightly but not enough to look him fully in the eye. “Do I look stupid enough to just leave my comrade to it when they look like they’re about to jump off this fucking roof?”

Your eyes are blown wide as you finally meet his again then look to the horizon and then back to him in a rapid string of disbelief. “You think…” you begin to say then push yourself away from the edge and shake your head. “This isn’t…. It isn’t that. I’m not… I’m not depressed, Captain.” Your voice sounds strong, at least, as the words tumble out of you. “God, I don’t… I don’t feel like that. I… I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you if I wanted to…” You don’t even try and finish the sentence, wrapping your arms around yourself as you begin to walk around the rooftop. 

His footsteps barely sound against the stone as he follows you. “Then what’s going on?”

“It’s personal, sir. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“When personal gets shitty, it gets in the way of work.” Levi argues, “and then that shit puts your life in danger out in the field.”

You release a breath in a huff, tightening your arms around yourself as you feel your temper shooting up to the surface, burning its way through your nerves. Your self-reminders of who Levi is and of behaving yourself are falling quieter by comparison now. 

“You… can talk to me… if you want. Whatever helps you keep your head and keeps you alive.”

You should be appreciative of his words, of the discomfort you can hear when he delivers them. You don’t want to feel agitated with him. You wish you could swallow down your feelings and leave them be. Your captain is not a comforting man. He’s not someone whose natural instinct it is to mollycoddle and reassure. Yet he is trying to get through to you right now. The way he can. He has his own ways of getting through to people. But right now those ways are not what you need or want. But how do you tell him that without sounding like an ass?

He says your name again and your impatience and your temper spill over into each other. 

“It’s too painful, captain!” You snap at him as you turn on him. Your voice echoes across the rooftop as tears burn in the corners of your eyes. “It’s too painful to talk to you about this,” you spit out. As soon as the words escape you, you can feel your chest deflate even as the horror of what you’ve just said fills your cheeks and warms them up.

Fuck. 

Beat after beat of silence follow and with each second, you can feel your throat constricting with the burn of your admission. Regret pours through your veins like rain washes over leaves. It drenches you and the words hover in your mind, painful and clear. 

“Why?” Levi only speaks one word but the heaviness of it hangs in the air between you. He doesn’t need to elaborate and your original intention of bullshitting your way out of this is rapidly disappearing. With your admission out in the open, you can feel more rising up from your chest. You may as well keep going, you tell yourself. It’s got to come out now.

You turned your back on him and stare up at the stars again, your eyes seeking the comforting presence of those beautiful lights. 

A hand touches your arm, fingers cupping your elbow. It’s not a firm grip. You could pull away from him if you wanted to. But the intention is clear. Don’t run away. 

Yet even as you resign yourself to the confession, your body moves of its own accord. You step back, pulling your arm out of Levi’s reach. You turn further away from him, your torso twisting faster than your feet. The sudden turn and lack of coordination catches up with you in a second, and you overbalance. You land on your side, your hip taking the brunt of the fall. You curse quietly, scrunching up your face as pain and irritation battle across it. 

“Tch,” the captain’s voice is surprisingly tender as he kneels down beside you, lifting both of his thin eyebrows. “It’s a good thing you don’t get nervous on the battlefield,” he observes, “otherwise you’d be titan chow by now.”

You stare at him for a moment and then a small laugh bubbles out of you. Your nerves have always made you clumsy and it was something you were worried would stop you progressing in the Scouts. Yet here you are. 

“Yeah, a good thing,” you mutter and bow your head. You wish you could wake up from this. Somehow even burying these feelings seems like a better option than continuing this scene and yet there’s no avoiding it now. What needs to be said, must be said. You both have to move forward. Rip the bandage off, your mother would say if she was here. 

“What’s going on?” Levi asks, firmness entering his voice now. “Just say it, whatever it is. Then it’s done. You can’t hold onto it now. Not without it screwing you up.” 

You take it in with a deep breath. His words are surprisingly insightful and, in a way, they do make the prospect seem easier. But then you think about how you could be throwing this away, the ability to talk with your captain with a reasonable lack of awkwardness. Now there will be this thing hanging in the air above you, always. But maybe it’s a weight that can finally come away from your shoulders. You’ve begun to walk down this path and now you have to continue. 

“I…” the words jam in your throat and you scowl into the space next to Levi as frustration rattles your insides. Why can’t you just say it? You close your eyes and try and focus yourself. It’s some advice that one of your fellow cadets gave you years ago when you used to lose your temper over little matters. She taught you how to rein in some of your intensity. But thinking of her just reminds you of the last time you saw her, in the jaws of a 9-metre titan.

Levi says your name again and you’re pulled from your memory. It’s a relief, compared to the image that was taking clear form in your mind’s eye again. Compared to what Katya endured, you realize that you have to be able to say these words, to put to good use what she taught you. 

“I’m in love with you.” The jam in your throat fades and the words slip out as quickly as water. You even manage to raise your eyes to look into Levi’s. You stare into them once you do, caught off guard by what you see. 

You can see the surprise in his ever-so-slightly widened eyes and the barely noticeable slack in his jaw. But what really surprises you is the lack of judgment in his eyes. He doesn’t give you the look he normally gives you when he’s seriously considering your decisions - such as attempting to showcase your standard of cleaning as acceptable when he can still see dust on his bookshelves, when he eyes your lamentable folding and when there are still patches of dirt on the newly mopped floor. The you’re-killing-his soul narrowed eyes and thin, disapproving line of a mouth. You don’t see any of that. 

Instead he stares at you like you just appeared right in front of him, like you came out of nothing and he’s trying to wrap his head around how that’s possible. He looks beautiful like that, caught in wonder. You feel yourself begin to smile despite the surprise in your own chest filtering into a clawing sense of dread. 

Now for the rejection… the reprimand. 

Where you should stay quiet and delay the arrival of either of those things, you now find your voice returning to you. As though your brain has decided for you. To hell with this. I’m going to throw it out there. You swallow and you plant the tips of your fingers on the cold stone beneath you. 

“I know it’s unprofessional. You’re my commanding officer. We serve in the same team. It makes things awkward.” Your cheeks are searing with heat now. “I’m sorry for it but you’re right. I had to get it out. It’s eating away at me. I can’t afford to keep this to myself anymore. I-I’ll take whatever you say. I just… had to get it out.”

More silence. As the seconds pass, your stomach twists. You gaze expectantly into your captain’s face. Despite the open surprise, he’s still somewhat unreadable. You can’t see traces of anger, embarrassment or irritation in his expression. It gives you a flutter of hope that maybe this could be a bit less painful than you had expected it to be. 

“Huh,” Levi says after another minute or two. He lowers his gaze and you feel your stomach plummet along with it. 

“I’m sorry-” you begin to say just as he speaks. 

“So, I’m not the only idiot then.”

It’s your turn to look surprised. “What?” you squint and lean forwards a little.

Levi sighs and takes your elbows. He rises to his feet, taking you with him. You wobble a little when upright, just for a moment but he keeps a firm grip until you’re steady then he lets go. “I said I’m not the only idiot.”

“Why… why you be an idiot?” you repeat. Your brain feels too fogged up in confusion to pick out the meaning behind his words. It was so far from what you expected him to say. All the imaginary reprimands and rejections are still hovering around although they are retreating a little. 

He tilts his head, a slight smirk curving up one corner of his mouth. “Figure it out,” he answers and there’s an almost playful edge there. 

It takes an embarrassing number of seconds for the fog to lift and suddenly the impossible seems to manifest in front of you all at once. You feel your own jaw dropping and a tingling feeling sweep through your body at once. “You… feel the same?” you ask, not hiding the disbelief from your voice. “I don’t understand,” you admit.

Now Levi’s lips press together into that familiar frown that you were expecting before. “I do.” He answers as he folds his arms. “What’s hard to understand?”

“How can you return my feelings when you dislike me so much?” You blurt out. “It just…. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Come again?” comes the dry response. Levi’s brows knot together. “Who the fuck said I dislike you?”

“No one needed to!” you fire back, annoyed. “It’s pretty obvious that I annoy you. You seem to regret choosing me for your squad. You seem to hate me being close to you.” The instances roll through your head on a loop, firing up your words. It clouds over the part of you that is telling yourself to be careful of what you say to him. Because right now you have to get through this conversation, or rather, at this point, make sense of it.

Levi closes his eyes and brings a hand up to pinch between his brows. “And people tell me that I’m shit at reading people.”

You’ve always known that Levi has an audacious tongue but even so, you falter. “Excuse me?”

He lowers his hands to his hips and frowns at you although there is a softness to his eyes. “I don’t dislike you. I never have,” he admits. “Look, your cleaning is inconsistent and needs work at best, you never leave a tea to brew long enough before you start drinking it, you always get drawn into arguments with people especially Oluo, and you worry too much about shit that’s just not that important,” he tells you brusquely. “You’re shit at asking for help and you always take too much crap from other people.” 

You frown deeply and shake your head. “Where are you going with this-?”

“You’re also one of the best team players I’ve ever seen. You make sure a job gets done even if it’s not your turn. You back up your comrades in and out of missions. You’re a capable and talented soldier yet you don’t get cocky about it. You don’t whinge about this job. You give your heart to the Scouts.”

You can feel the blush in your cheeks spreading over your face. “That’s what we all have to do.”

“Not everyone does it. People are shitty and selfish.” Levi tells you. “But not you. You do your damn job and you take what comes. Why the fuck would you think I’d dislike that?”

You fidget from one foot to the other. “But you always act like… like I’m a pest.”

Levi looks away from you, his eyes rising up to the starry canvas above him. “I’m not Hange. I don’t wear everything on my fucking sleeve. I’m not Erwin either. I’m not someone who dazzles people with eloquence. But more importantly,” and his eyes shift back to you, “I’m your superior officer. Coming on to you… I’d look like a fucking creep.”

You bite your lip and step forward. “I wouldn’t think that. I would have… you know… I would have admitted it too.”

“And if you hadn’t returned my feelings?” Levi questions. “You could have reported me. You could have requested a transfer. I would have lost a very capable soldier from my squad,” he explains. “You said that I didn’t act like I liked you. You’re pretty damn capable of concealing things yourself.”

You step forward a little and a smile crosses your face, small and sheepish. “Okay, that’s fair. I-I could have maybe hinted or something but I really didn’t want to be reprimanded or embarrassed.”

“I wouldn’t punish you for having feelings,” Levi insists. “But they’d have to be kept in check especially on missions.”

“I know. I’ve seen them get people killed,” you assure him. “I guess we both decided it’d be safer to say nothing.”

“But something changed for you today,” Levi takes half a step towards you. “What happened?”

“Nothing in particular,” you admit, returning your attention to the horizon and wrapping your arms around yourself as you return to your spot by the wall. “But it’s tiring playing pretend.” You rest your arms on the wall and lean your chin on them with a heavy sigh. “I just had to let myself stop for a moment.”

Levi’s footsteps approach you but you don’t look around. The confession and this entire conversation is taking it out of you. On the one hand it’s going so much better than you expected and on the other hand, you feel like you’re walking on unknown territory, on ice where you don’t know if it’s stable or not. Trying to think over what that means is unsettling.

“What does this mean?” You decide to take the initiative. “We both had our reasons for keeping quiet. Now we’re here, I don’t know what happens now.”

“You think I do?” Levi steps up next to you and leaned his back against the wall. “I can’t offer you a safe life.” He tells you quietly. “I’m not going to quit the Survey Corps and go be a farmer or work in a shop. I’m not going to stop fighting the titans.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” you answer, turning your face and leaning your cheek on your arms. “I’m not walking away from this life, either. I’m good at what I do. Humanity needs you to fight for them. They need us to fight for them. I didn’t train for three years and witness all this death just to walk away and play it safe.”

Levi’s mouth twitched into a smile. “So we’re both sticking with this shitty life in the shitty military.”

You smile back at him. “Looks like it, captain.”

He turns around, leaning against the wall with his front and partway mirroring your folded arms on the wall. His gaze lingers on your face and you stare up at him. This time the silence is comfortable, filled with an unspoken agreement that things will be different now. The path ahead is no longer clouded with uncertainty and assumptions. You can see Levi clearly and he can see you. You know what you mean to each other now and your heart feels lighter for it. 

“I don’t know if I’m capable of being what you want,” he muses quietly but he’s leaning in towards you. 

You’re lifting your head towards his, your eyes dropping to his lips as you whisper back. “You’re already what I want. You always have been.”

“So are you,” he murmurs back and then his lips touch yours. It’s a soft press and for a few moments nothing happens. Uncertainty returns between the two of you. That and inexperienced curiosity. Your lips move first, against his and his match on instinct. You both slip into it as instinct takes over. 

Moonlight and starlight fall around you but for now those beautiful sights are relegated to being the background for something new and wonderful and unknown. Something that will bind you and your captain even closer together.

[rosie-b]

Centuries Overdue

Chapter 8

Marinette sighed in relief.

There, a little black cat was floating in the air near Adrien, who was still alive and okay! Beside the cat, there was a ladybug of equal size with sparkling blue eyes. As it hovered near the other kwami, it looked over at Marinette and smiled.

“Hello, Marinette! It’s good to see one of my own Mages,” the kwami gushed, flying over to her. “That hasn’t happened in a while. I’m Tikki. Nice to meet you!”

Marinette was lost for words. “Where’s Gimmi?”

Tikki looked confused at first, but then understanding flooded her face. “You met them, didn’t you? I’m so glad you’re all right! What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Marinette swallowed. “It’s a long story.”

“Then it’s all the more important to tell, don’t you think?” Tikki asked. She gazed up at Marinette with innocent blue eyes.

Marinette looked at Adrien, who sighed.

“Tell her the abridged version, Marinette. She and Plagg deserve to know.”

Marinette looked back at Tikki. “It started when I  decided to visit the catacombs and Alya told me there were zombies,” she began. She spent the next few minutes quickly recapping what had happened next, and noticed how sad and remorseful Tikki looked when she heard about the Mages and Talents who’d been trapped by Gimmi’s magic.

“I am so sorry you had to go through that, Marinette! Thank you for telling us about it, though. It’s good that we know.”

The other kwami, who must be Plagg, looked horrified. “I wish I didn’t,” he said.

Adrien reached out to cup him in his hands. “I know how you feel. But it will be okay, right?”

Plagg nodded uneasily. “They would have had to be released,” he told Adrien. “All the Talents. They’re all gone now, Adrien.”

“I think they already were,” Adrien said sadly. “I’m glad they can rest now, at least. They had to wait for release too long.”

Plagg nodded, curling up in his Chosen’s palm. “It’s a good thing you’re safe, Adrien.”

“Well,” Marinette said, “I hate to bring it up, but I have a huge question that’s still unanswered. How do we get out of the catacombs? We’re still in a locked-off, uncharted section of them. No one can find us here, which means either we rescue ourselves, we get lucky and some cataphiles find us, or we die. And I’d rather not die!”

“You can use your powers to escape!” Tikki said excitedly. “Create a map of the catacombs, and Plagg and I will help you get out, even if the entrance is blocked.”

Oh, man, things had changed since just a few hours ago. Back then, Marinette had accepted that she just wouldn’t be able to escape, but now, she had gained a— a partner? Magic sort-of soulmate? Friend? 

She had Adrien with her now, and her own magic to boot. Plus two helpful kwamis who’d recently been part of one big, scary kwami who’d almost killed her.

“Okay,” Marinette said dubiously. “I guess that could work, even if I’m still new to magic. But what spell do I use, Tikki?”

“Since I’m with you right now, it doesn’t have to be complicated. Just say, ‘Tikki, spots on!’ and I’ll give you a map instead of a yo-yo this time.”

“Is that how that works,” Marinette muttered. “Okay, Tikki, spots on!”

Sure enough, a map fell into her hands.

“Better than a teapot, right, Marinette?” Adrien asked. 

She snorted. “Very. Okay,” she said, twisting the map around. “It looks like we should go that way!”

“We’ll need some light,” Adrien said. “And you may be powerful, but you’re still new to magic, so you can only do one spell at a time.”

“Let me do it!” Tikki offered. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to help one of my Mages. Without the Talents, it’s been nearly a decade since the last one made it to my castle.”

“Your castle?”

“Mm-hm, in Italy. Adrien’s visited it before; you can ask him to tell you all about it if you want!” Tikki studied the map and darted ahead, creating a series of little lanterns to show the way. The rest of the group followed after her.

“Oh, right! He wrote about it in the third and ninth journals. I remember now,” Marinette said.

Adrien looked amused. “Wait, did you read the rest of my journals, too? Not just the one you found me with?”

“Uh—” Marinette gulped as her face heated up. “Maybe? They were in a library I was working at for my summer job. They were kind of falling apart, but they were intriguing, so I read them anyway. They’re how I found out about magic.”

“Yeah, that would be why Gimmi was targeting my kitten,” Plagg grumbled. “He’s too good at his job. Gimmi didn’t want him to keep writing and risk the Ungifted finding out about magic again, or the Mages figuring out who was behind the Darkness.”

“I didn’t even know about Wishes while I was writing,” Adrien groaned. “Honestly, Gimmi needs to talk to other people before murdering them! And you should talk to other people more often, too, Plagg. And not just about cheese.”

“You spent how many centuries maturing in the catacombs, and you still can’t appreciate my gooey cheeses? Adrien, I’m offended!” Plagg let out a loud, indignant sniff.

Although, Marinette noticed that he didn’t move from Adrien’s shoulder, where he had moved to rest.

“Well, at least you feel comfortable telling me when you feel bad,” Adrien said. “Now, do it more often; tell someone when something is hurting you. Maybe if you and Tikki don’t store up negative emotions, that will help Gimmi be less angry all the time, since you two are what they’re made of.”

“Sure thing, kid,” Plagg said. “I’ll talk your ear off if you want me to.”

“We should probably talk, too, Marinette,” Tikki said, coming back from lighting the rest of the lanterns. Behind them, the ones they’d already passed winked out of existence. “I bet you have a lot of questions for me!”

Marinette smiled, feeling very weary and no small amount overwhelmed. “Maybe once we get out of the catacombs,” she promised. “We still have a long way to go. And hey, it’s pretty cool that we’re here, now that I think about it,” she mused. “No one else has been where we are since probably before you died, Adrien! A positive outlook—and knowing we’re not about to die—makes this trip a lot better.”

He winced. “Yeah. It’s pretty cool,” he repeated cautiously. “However, you’re going to have to teach me everything I missed in the last two centuries, or I fear I’ll never blend in once we’re out of here. I’m still surprised I was able to come back at all.”

“Yeah, thank you for that, Ponytail,” Plagg said. 

On realizing who he was speaking to, Marinette reached back for her hair, feeling offended. “Hey! I needed to keep it out of my eyes, that’s all.”

“Plagg, be nice! Besides, milady, I think you look beautiful like this,” Adrien said. 

Plagg peeked one eye open to stare at him. “Oh boy, here we go,” he groaned.

Marinette’s face felt like someone had turned into a furnace. “O-oh, hanks, Madrien! I mean, thanks, Adrien! It isn’t my usual style, though.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure you’re beautiful no matter how you wear it.” Adrien smiled at her, but when she kept staring at him, he coughed and schooled his face. “Okay, I have a joke to share while we’re all still trying to keep distracted. Here it goes— what do libraries and catacombs have in common?”

Marinette blinked. Libraries and catacombs?  “I don’t know. What?”

Adrien grinned and leaned closer to her. “They both have a lot of spines! Get it?”

Marinette looked sideways at Adrien, whose smile began to slip.

“Book spines, human spines? No?”

Marinette closed her eyes. “Adrien, I just almost died and you just came back from being dead. How can you joke about bones already? I think if I look at the walls we’re walking past for too long, I’ll throw up.”

Adrien winced. “Sorry! I’m so sorry. I forgot, it’s rude to speak that way in front of—"

“Girls aren’t the issue, Adrien,” Plagg interrupted. “The Un-Gifted moved past that, mostly.”

Adrien relaxed. “Oh. That’s good. I mean, the Mages were always a bit different, but it’s good to know the rest of the world has changed, too.”

“It definitely has,” Marinette agreed. “It was refreshing, to read your journals and know that at least for some women, the 1800s weren’t as bad as they were for most. You know, thinking back to the joke, I think the issue is that you grew up basically surrounded by war and death, but I didn’t. France is mostly at peace in the modern world; democracy is back, and so it was really hard to suddenly be thrust into a battle and confronted with so much death. I’m sure we’ll both need therapy when we get back.”

“Therapy?” Adrien questioned, raising one eyebrow. “You’re sure we can get that? What we went through is pretty specific, you know.”

“Modern therapy, yes. Alya told me the Mages have their own therapists, so you don’t need to worry about revealing magic’s existence in order to get some closure.  

“I’ll talk you through the basics later, because we’re getting close to the exit. We need to figure out some other things first, before we get back on the main path and the guards hopefully find us. Like, how do we explain your sudden presence? We can tell Alya and the Mages, of course, but what about the guards and the rest of the world?”

“You should work together with Alya,” Tikki said, excitedly zooming in front of Marinette so she could face her. “I can go see her now and ask her to cast a spell! It will be hard for her to do, but very much worth the effort. With the help of her illusions, Adrien will be ‘recognized’ as another missing visitor to the catacombs, and once you’re both out, you can go to Alya and create a fake ID and whatever else you need to fit in.”

“An ID,” Adrien repeated. He looked adorable when he was confused, Marinette thought.

“It’s basically a card that tells the government who you are. It’s not that bad, I promise!”

Adrien scrunched his eyebrows together. “If you say that it isn’t, milady, then I trust you.”

Tikki smiled. “Great! I’ll go tell Alya, then.” She phased through the catacomb walls and vanished.

“Aww, why can’t we do that?” Marinette asked.

“You could, if you were less mortal and more awesome,” Plagg said with a smirk.

Adrien shot him a glare. “So, I need to pretend to have an ID. What else do I need to know right now?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “Cars! Okay, we’ve made these vehicles that run on gas or electricity and they’re basically mini rooms with seats on wheels, and they move really fast. There are also airplanes, faster ships, and subways and trains. Um, and lightbulbs? Did you have those?”

Adrien shook his head. Marinette sighed.

“They’re like lanterns, but they run on electricity. No big deal.”

“No big deal,” Adrien repeated in disbelief. “Really? It sounds like the Un-Gifted found a way to make their own magic! That’s incredible!” 

Marinette blushed. “I guess it is. Um, other things run on electricity, too; a lot, actually.  I showed you my phone; basically everybody has one now and they do a lot of cool stuff I’ll need more than ten minutes to explain, haha. There are bigger versions called tablets, and then there are laptops and computers, which are even bigger but still similar to phones, and TVs, which are even bigger and mostly show the weather or recorded, uh, plays and musicals. Oh, when we get to the entrance, there will probably be a ton of cameras, which are these devices that basically flash a light at you and take a picture of you, exactly as you are. Like an instant painting!”

“That sounds terrifying,” Adrien said, grabbing her hand. “I didn’t think things would change that much, even if it’s been a couple centuries! Next you’ll tell me they found a way to go into outer space,” he chuckled.

Marinette looked at him with a smirk growing on her face.

“Oh, you have to be joking,” he breathed.

She giggled. “Nope, I’m not! Aaand we’re at the entrance to the main paths, now. Are you ready?”

Adrien squeezed her hand tight. “If you are, milady.”

“Hey, lover-boy,” Plagg said, still not moving from his spot on Adrien’s shoulders, “If you want to get through that nice metal gate facing you, you’re gonna have to let go of her hand.”

“Oh! Right. Plagg, claws out!” Adrien said, dropping her hand with a bashful smile. “Cataclysm.” He touched the gate and it rusted, falling open and letting them pass through it.

“Is that how you got in, the first time?” Marinette asked. “I know you didn’t wait to go in like a normal person.”

Adrien flushed. “Oh, right, the journals. Um. Yes. Why did I ever write that down?” He muttered the last bit to himself, just barely audible.

“Well, it helped you out in the end,” Marinette said. “If it weren’t for your journals, I never would have been able to rescue you.”

“Which I am so grateful for,” Adrien said assuringly. “Have I said that enough times? I don’t think I have. Should I write you a song to say thank you?”

Marinette blushed and tried to distract herself from the romantic implications of writing songs. He’s from the past, it was different back then! “Ooh, you can write songs, too, not just write?”

“I’m a man of many talents,” Adrien smiled. “You could call it a gift.”

Marinette smacked his arm.

He grinned at her and kept walking forward through the tunnels. 

A few meters later, a guard finally spotted them, and they were rushed up to the main building. 

Predictably, the press was there waiting, and Alya was right beside them. Once they got some initial footage, she waved a hand, muttering something under her breath, and the reporters busied themselves with her illusions of interviewing the two rescuees. Adrien watched in awe as Alya stepped out to lead them away from the scene.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it all handled. They’ll think you just fell behind, got lost for a while, but turned around and came back without any real issues,” she told them. “Now. Are you both okay? You’re not hurt?”

Marinette nodded. Now that they were finally out, she felt completely exhausted. “I think we’re fine; no injuries here. Alya, that was so scary,” she cried, throwing her arms around her friend in a tight hug.

“I told you it was dangerous,” Alya said sadly. “I am so glad you’re okay. Tikki told me you found your magic, and defeated the zombies? You found Adrien, too, and resurrected him? Like, that’s insane! Girl, you are something else entirely!” she exclaimed excitedly.

“She is quite amazing,” Adrien agreed, wide-eyed. “If that’s what that means.”

Alya’s lips twitched. “Oh, it’s a good thing Tikki told me to start that illusion,” she said, barely restraining a laugh. “Your clothes would have given you away instantly if I hadn’t been there!”

Adrien frowned and pulled at his suit’s collar. “Yes, after seeing those other men, I can see why. What is the modern fashion these days?”

“It’s a lot comfier, for one thing,” Alya said. “I think you’ll like it.”

Relaxing, Adrien smiled at her. “That’s good to hear. By the way, it seems you both know my name, but I don’t think I know yours,” he said, gesturing at her.

Marinette smiled. “This is Alya, my best friend and head Mage of Trixx. She taught me about the modern Mage community and the finer details of how magic works.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Adrien,” Alya said, offering her hand. “Now, let’s get you up to speed!”

Written for @mlbigbang

[valdeznation]

we're all gonna die (valgrace)

valgrace week prompt 1: soulmates

jason shifts in leo’s hold, breaths deep and even, his cheek pressed against his husband’s warm chest.  leo’s own heart thuds below his, the sound so similar to the stuffed cat with a beating toy heart his mother got him for his second birthday weeks before she left.  he wants to speak.  he wants to silence the thoughts he can hear grinding in leo’s mind like the gears he so often gets his fingers caught in at work, wants to toss a stick in and make them stop.

“do you think i’m going to die?” he whispers after a few minutes, arms tightening around leo’s waist as he exhales shakily, knowing and dreading the answer.  jason is used to death, has even been able to accept leo’s – just not his own. 

leo, for his part, doesn’t react.  there’s no tension in his body, only love and tenderness that presses around jason in the form of strong thighs bracketing his hips, stronger hands weaving through jason’s curls, twirling, braiding, silent above him for what feels like hours.  “yes,” he says finally, words almost lost in the mass of golden hair he’s got his wonderfully soft lips pressed against, the vibration of his voice trickling down jason’s spine, equal amounts kind and horribly cruel.  it’s a gentle confirmation of his mortality, and jason knows he’s right.  leo has never been one to sugarcoat, opting instead to gently lower the thousand-tonne truth onto the shaking shoulders he is now soothing with warm hands, hands that have created innumerable things but failed at crafting his lover a longer life.  it is and forever will be his biggest regret.

if he were stronger, if he hadn’t been sick for so long, if his muscles weren’t eaten away and dying, he would kneel before leo and beg for a lie, but his hands, which once slew titans, can’t hold a mug of coffee, much less change the course of the river of his husband’s nature.  jason has heard worse, borne worse, survived worse than this, and yet, and yet, and yet.  

“please don’t give up on me,” he breathes, shoulderblades twitching under leo’s fingers as he manouvres his chin to rest on leo’s chest, faded blue eyes framed by a halo of blonde lashes twitching as they meet the fire swirling behind amber-stained brown.  maybe in another life he was the sky, cold atmosphere reflecting infinite shades of beauty for everyone to see but never getting to see it for himself, a decoration.  maybe in another life leo was the earth, rich soil replete with life, drinking in rain and sunlight and summer air and making with it everything worth seeing, trees and birds and the tinkling laughs of children.  maybe that was what they were.  maybe that was why they were not allowed to have each other, hold each other, till death did them part.  maybe they were made to be apart.  

“i couldn’t,” leo breathes back, the mint-and-coffee breath curling around his cheek tugging jason from his thoughts.  hands rake through his hair again, shaking now.  everything under him shakes, even the single tear on leo’s thick lower lashes.  his voice is catching in his chest, jason can feel it, a tremor shooting through his ribs as his adam’s apple bobs up and down.  “i couldn’t, jace.  not even if i wanted to.  not even if i tried.”

he wants to reply, wants to say something sweet and grateful and smile and sit up to kiss his other half, wants to feel whole in his arms and slot their noses together and feel leo’s stubble scratch against his, but any hope of speaking dies the second the tear falls, leaving a barely-visible track that glitters on his bronze skin in the dim lighting of their bedroom.  he hasn’t seen leo cry since they were sixteen.  he hates that it’s his fault.  

“i couldn’t,” he says again, mumbling like the words hurt to get out, like the same chronic ache that’s settled in jason’s body is starting to infect him, too.  “even after you… a-after…” his voice fades and falters, whatever peace he had displayed earlier about this situation quickly dissipating into tangible pain thickening the air around them, and jason is the sky, and he reflects this, so it is all they can both see.  all they can both feel.  “even after you die, i won’t give up.”  a gentle thumb traces his lower lip, callouses catching on chapped skin, easily-soothed pain taking edge off of the all-encompassing agony.  

everything is shaking and leo is the earth, soaking in anguish and morphing it into pixie dust that decorates his cheeks as more tears fall.  “i’ll look into every doorway and wait for you to walk through it,” he whispers, a terrible sadness in his eyes.  it is heavy, so much so that it settles easily into the grooves that were cut out for it in leo’s bones so many years ago.  “i could watch you die in my arms tonight and still hope you would be in the kitchen burning waffles come morning.” 

[scratchybongvt]

My Sidemascots tier list

This morning, I created a tier list template ranking all of the Sidemascots episodes all the way up to 1.14.

I thought I can give you an example by ranking them myself. I’m the writer of all of these after all, and thought if I was a reader like you, would I enjoy them?

My tier list of all of the Sidemascots episodes will be revealed in 3… 2… 1…

Tada…

Okay, I know this looks like a tier list full of random stuff, but let me explain all of them from bottom to top, starting with…

D tier

My least enjoyable episode is “The wheel of misfortune”. I originally want to recreate the success of the “finish or forfeit” challenge, just in a different form, but I didn’t think of the punishments they should do in advance so I kinda in a hurry. This results in a more blander episode than I originally thought, in fact, even the content warning of this episode is just “bland”, contrary to extreme things like violence, content that may upset certain people, etc etc… so it’s in the bottom. I’ll try to think deeper next time.

C tier

C tier is the auditions and the pole vaulting challenge. Since the lineup wasn’t finalized prior to this, the auditions involves a lot of mascots for Vini and Sumi to pick for the starting lineup.

Why it’s in C tier? Because it’s just the auditions. Nothing special happens. But it’s longer than the Wheel of misfortune one, and I’ve thrown a bit of drama to keep the readers tuned.

The second one in C tier is the $1,000,000 pole vaults challenge. Even though there’s a proper lineup at that point, it’s the same thing as the auditions but bigger.

To be honest, that would have been in A or B tier because of the idea. But I’m too lazy to track the number of mascots involved and which ones advances to the next round so that’s why everyone except La’eeb failed round 1. Sure, I may be wrong, it could give people an element of surprise, but for me it doesn’t feel competitive enough to be counted as a proper challenge, considering it has a cash prize to grab.

B tier

B tier includes the latest episode, the life hacks challenge. In the same format as the two sabotage episodes, but none of the life hacks actually count as them because again, I didn’t think of them in advance which made the title misleading but it still has some excitement.

The second one is the trailer, the one that started it all. Sidemascots was only a few hours old and I was just getting started on tumblr, in fact it was originally for Burke only until I realized there was some potential… the rest is history.

The reason why it’s in B tier despite the humble beginnings is because I don’t think the Sidemascots gained popularity from there, no a series gets popular when it has enough episodes for people to explore. You’re not Cristiano Ronaldo after all.

The third one is “sabotage Olympic Phryge”. I’m still guilty of writing this to this day because had @sashley1912’s sister hasn’t lured her tumblr and said “yes” to that episode on her behalf, this wouldn’t exist, at all.

Since that episode, I’ve decided that the Sidemascots, from now on, will forever be neutral about mascots, and may not lean towards other people’s opinions. But, it was still enjoyable in an outsider perspective nonetheless, therefore, B tier.

The last one is “mascots read mean tweets”, I kinda rated it in a hurry before I realized that it’s just mascots reading tweets. But, it’s still more interesting than the wheel of misfortune one, so even if I didn’t rate it B tier, C tier nonetheless.

A tier

You may have noticed that, judging by the Paris 2024 football and Rodri’s FC25 card, that I have some bias towards association football (i’m going to call it football, you can’t change my mind)

Though, even if I don’t have that bias, I would still rate them A tier anyway, who loves mascots playing competitive sports, they are made for it! I like the element of surprise in both the “Handicap penalties” and “Mascots play FC25” episodes, even though I wrote them, and the action leading up to this. The Premier League doesn’t have something like this nowadays, does it?

Another one is “Mascot challenges II” between Someity and Mandeville, personally the first one, and also the first proper episode too, “Americas vs. the rest of the world” was better because it involves teams and doesn’t have a lopsided score like its sequel. Spelling Bee and Who Wants to be a Millionaire are in A tier because who doesn’t like a good quiz, one that sabotages the contestants like crazy. Though, spoiler alert, it’s not as intense as the Weakest Link.

Finally, the OG “Sabotage Paralympic Phryge”, unlike it’s sequel, this one is for the best. Para Phryge was drunk after whatever she does before Sidemascots 1.2, and the only way she can get out of this addiction is to die. Very savage, but only the number of potential controversies (that can surely get me canceled) hold it back from being S tier.

S tier

Finally, the Sidemascots’ most sought-after MVEs (most valuable episodes), the ones I’ve enjoyed and you guys too. What are the most goated episodes in Season 1?

First is the undisputed “Finish or forfeit”, mascots complete challenges or face an epic forfeit. A balance between intensity, controversies, and comedic effect makes the episode actually enjoyable. This is the first time I’ve made something that is acceptable. A one-of-a-kind Sidemascots classic. S tier.

Second is the first proper episode, Mascot challenges I: Americas vs. The world. Another classic, who can forget the intense battle over a foosball table between Wenlock and Burke? Muah, beautiful.

Finally is the Weakest Link challenge. You may be surprised to hear that despite the UK-originated gameshow having its potential for being one of the most goated gameshows of all time, my country of Vietnam doesn’t have its own version of the Weakest Link (contrary to the fact that they have their own version of Who Wants to be a Millionaire, another UK-originated gameshow format), so I had to research a bit before writing.

I was hesitant and missed a few key details but even WWTBAM is modified so meh. But the Weakest Link managed to live up to its promise, the pain of being kicked out the show, the sweat on each contestant during every voting session, the intensity of a penalty-shootout styled final round, it was more intense than Millionaire. I feel bad for Vietnam for not having its own version of The Weakest Link. So Vietnam Television, you know what to do.

And there you have it. A tier list of all of the Sidemascots episodes up to 1.14. But it’s just my opinion. As I learned from @crackheadfromsainsburys and @sashley1912, every person’s opinions are different, so why not make your own and share to me and your lovely people? The tier list template is live for to rank and I’m curious of what your favorite and what your least favorite episodes are. Let me know in the comments, or DM me if you want to share the full tier list. Until then, set the like button to cook, or you’re in the hook.