#who just so happened to be the man behind her very creation and abandonment

[harrysmmm]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧

Fanfiction: The Relics of Hogwarts (CLICK THE LINK BEFORE READING THIS)

Draco malfoy x Y/N Riddle (f!reader)

A/N: First chapter of the fanfic! It took me a whole week to write this, and a whole week to create the plot of the story. This chapter sets the tone for what is to come - more draco and the reader's interactions will happen in the following chapters. I am beyond excited to be posting this, I hope you guys enjoy it - I really had the best time writing it (it helps me deal with reality which I very much thank). Also, two things before you go and read it: one, my mother tongue is not English, once again, so forgive me for any mistake or wrong word that I might've used; two, every paragraph or conversation that is written in italic is a flashback (I think it was clear but just to be hella clear). That's everything for me to say... also you don't know the amount of research I've had to do in order to be precise on every description, family line, Hogwarts system... it's crazy the number of tabs I've opened during the creation of all of it. Last thing, I have never done this before but if you'd like to be on the taglist for each time I post a new chapter, put it in the comments or write me an inbox and I'll gladly do it! I'm going to try to do my best and post a chapter every week - two would be ideal. I tend to write pretty long chapters so it takes me a lot of time to finish them. I'm going to stop writing, this is becoming addictive. Love you, this fic is for all of you out there.

W/C: 4.3K

masterlist here

Summer was about to come to an end. It was pouring rain in the Scottish mountain range; a wild, twisted, ravaging storm that left a lifeless valley at its steps. Someone was rushing through the vast hallways, crackling footsteps as he was approaching the stone gargoyle. He whispered in a low, hoarse voice: “Cockroach clusters”. A stoned spiraled staircase revealed itself behind the statue, he marched them upstairs.

At the top, a wooden door was slightly opened revealing at its gap a dim light and an overwhelming heat. Under this particular weather, there was a need of a fireplace.

The professor stepped in the headmaster’s office.

“Severus,” Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the Wizarding School, Hogwarts, greeted the man, “what can I do for you in this, rather hectic evening?”

“I –” he stopped, having been interrupted by a loud thunder, “have some news from You Know Who.”

Dumbledore froze for a moment. “Ah!” he uttered, heading towards his centered desk, and sitting down. “Tell me what you know.”

“You Know Who’s daughter is supposedly coming to Hogwarts this year.”

“How is that possible?” Dumbledore seemed confused.

“He has gotten back in contact with her, after seventeen years,” Snape said in a monotone voice of his range. “I have been told to keep an eye on her.”

The storm was heavily attacking the gleaming windows.

“This is no coincidence - I suppose you know that, Severus.”

“I… assumed.”

“Voldemort has something in mind – something that involves the school – or Potter.”

“The child has always been in his sight, why would it be that now he is looking to get to him by sending his abandoned daughter off to school while she has a cursed bloodline herself, it seems a little…odd… from my perspective, Professor.”

“You’re right, Severus - but we need to be en garde.” Dumbledore was looking all around his desk seeming to try to dismantle this new information. “Does the girl know why she’s coming?”

“It seems like she does.”

“U-huh,” he replied. “Well, the link between Draco’s commended mission to kill me and the arrival of Voldemort’s daughter is evident; he’s trying to gain some presence within the school.”

“And,” he continued, “the girl and Draco have known each other merely from birth, they’ve grown up together as siblings, haven’t they, Severus?”

“I wouldn’t use the word siblings, Professor – as far as I know, they roughly consider each other cousins.”

“Right, right, cousins…”

“Professor,” uttered Snape.

“Huh?”

“What should I do?”

“Well,” Dumbledore got up and walked towards the animal that was gripping a stand cage. It was an elegant phoenix; he had crimson feathers covering his entire body and a long golden tail resembling that of a peacock. His name was Fawkes. Dumbledore caressed the animal as he continued, “you have no choice – she will have to attend this year at Hogwarts. In fact, she will directly be put into Slytherin, that way your task will be eased.”

“If I may, I don’t think she would’ve been sorted into any other house, giving her lineage, Professor.”

“Right, descendant of Salazar Slytherin, right…” Dumbledore didn’t seem to be there, his thoughts spiraling up, trying to find the connecting factor.

“I see you… pensive” said Snape in return.

Dumbledore moved from the bird to the East of the room and stood next to the recollection of memories bottled up in glass jars.

“We both know, Severus, that Voldemort doesn’t hold any sort of affection towards his daughter; he’s incapable of it.” He frenetically moved to the West of the room. “That girl has been raised by Druella Black, mother of the living Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy. The girl has never had any contact with her father, nor her mother for that matter.”

“If I may ask… what happened to the mother?”

“Well, no one knows what happened to her; no one even knows who she is. Voldemort hasn’t had any known-of partner in his life.”

“Right,” replied Snape. “Although the girl has, so it seems, a tight relation with the Diggory family.”

“The Diggorys… Cedric Diggory? The boy that Voldemort killed during the Triwizard Tournament?” inquired Dumbledore.

“Indeed. She’s presumably close to his father, Amos Diggory, who works in the Ministry of Magic.” completed Snape.

“How?”

“I don’t know, but she will come to the school as his niece, omitting her last name Riddle.”

“A façade.” Dumbledore had a lost look.

“Yes.”

“There’s a lot of things that we can’t grasp, Severus. You will keep an eye on her, I will deal with the rest.”

“As you wish.”

Snape turned around, swinging his cape as he moved to the door.

“Severus,” Dumbledore called him, before he could walk away, “Hogwarts is, once again, being threatened. This time, it might be the last time”. He looked at his hand, a black dark magic had scattered through most of it.

Snape understood his words but didn’t reply.

A black figure made his way down the enchanted staircase.

ྀ࿔

The hallways were full of students. Bustling chatter about summertime and vacations was spreading around the walls of the entrance hall. First years were arriving in canoes through the Great Lake that surrounded Hogwarts while upper years were progressively making an entrance, after getting off the Hogwarts Express.

She noticed the attunes of most students. Black robes seemed to be the official uniform, with varying colors on the hood, sleeves and the edge of the front depending on the student who was wearing it. At the front of it, there was a patch in accordance with the colors of the robe – she assumed it was the house patch of the student. She particularly laid her eyes on the green one, the one who seemed to have a snake in the middle. She knew that Father had attended the school – and even if she was mostly ignorant about the school system and supposed houses, she knew her father had been a green-robed student.

Snape started to climb up the Grand Stairs, she followed him. Various students and professors were hectically going up and down the stairs, making her have to pay attention to not brush shoulders with any of them. Snape was not looking back at her, swinging from side to side as if he knew seconds ahead who was going to go up or down.

Her mind wondered back to the reason why she was there; to the mission Father had commended her to do. She had heard about Wizarding Schools, Hogwarts in particular, since nearly her birth. However, Druella never wanted her to get mingled with academic wizards and witches, fearing for her life as a Riddle. That last name did not follow any welcoming reception in the Wizarding World. But after Father’s come back, things have changed all around.

She couldn’t help but travel back to the moment it all started.

“F-father?” she called him, pitch black consuming the entire room of the Malfoy Manor.

She could hear him moving. Hollow wooden floorboards slowly crackling at his steps. She could also hear his snake hissing - that’s how she knew he was standing in front of her.

“Child,” he finally said with a whispery, throaty voice, “I missed you.”

She felt two arms making their way to her ribs while slowly tangling behind her on what seemed to be a hug. She didn’t move, shivering of horror.

“My daughter.” She felt the air of his voice in her ear, making her swift breathing be noticed.

She understood that he knew she was afraid.

His arms were no longer wrapping her, and she felt how he was circling her by the crackling wood yet again.

“How have the Blacks been treating you?”

She gasped.

“Fair enough…Father.”

He seemed to have moved to the other side of the room.

“And the Malfoys? The young boy, Draco, is he nice to you?”

She tried to relax her breathing.

“He is - they all have always treated me as one of their own.”

“But you’re not one of them, are you?”. He moved closer to her again, as she felt his snake sliding next to her foot.

“I-I guess I’m not.” She could’ve sworn she saw a monster in front of her. She closed her eyes tightly.

“Your stay with them might’ve been enjoyable, but I’m afraid you must leave.”

Something in her stopped when she heard those words.

“Where?” she inquired.

“To the Diggorys.”

“I don’t know who they are.”

He was standing in front of her. She could sense it.

“They are nice people that will take you under their roof – now, I need you to befriend them, become one of them. You will need to take on their last name.”

She didn’t say a word and let him continue.

“I need some things that lay within the walls of Hogwarts; some things that someone wants to steal.”

“Harry Potter,” she whispered, not being able to contain herself.

“Do not mention his name!” he raised his voice, and she could feel his face almost touching hers.

She nearly started sobbing.

“You don’t get to say his name in front of me, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He leaned back some inches from her. “Some objects that are in the castle belong to me. I hid them so they would be safe - but it has come to my attention that they might be in danger.”

She kept listening.

“When the time comes, I will need you to go to Hogwarts as a Diggory and bring those objects back to me. You will be fully awarded for the act,” he paused, “and gain your place by my side.”

She heavily breathed when she heard that. After all those years, her father was offering her a chance to make him proud, to honor her last name, to have a family.

“What are these objects?”

“You’ll must bring me the cup of Helga Hufflepuff, the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, the locket of Salazar Slytherin and the sword of Godric Gryffindor. All of them make the Relics of Hogwarts.”

“Now,” he continued, “you will leave to the Diggorys tomorrow morning. I will be back to tell you when you will attend Hogwarts.” He paused. “I’m afraid I must leave you now, dear girl.”

“Father?” She needed to ask.

“Yes?”

“Who is my mother?” she asked away. She figured that now that he needed her, he couldn’t hurt her for asking.

The seconds that lasted the silence lingered in her like a death sentence.

“Your mother ran away as she had the chance. I would be tarnishing your name by speaking of her.”

She knew that wasn’t the truth; she sensed it in his voice.

“Did you love her?”

He breathed heavily; he was getting tired of this conversation. He swiftly approached her once again.

“Love does not exist. Don’t let them bewitch your mind.”

And just like that, he vanished through dark smoke.

ྀ࿔

“Hogwarts. What a pathetic excuse for a school,” Draco snapped. “I’d pitch myself off the Astronomy Tower if I had to continue for another two years.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pansy Parkinson, close friend of Draco, replied.

“Let’s just say, I don’t think you’ll see me wasting my time in Charms class next year.”

Draco, Pansy and Blaise were sitting down in a wagon of the Hogwarts Express. Draco knew it was his last time returning to Hogwarts. He also knew his biggest stress this year was not going to be about returning good grades home or beating Potter in the Quidditch finals. The Dark Lord had commended him a very important mission, and now that his father was facing sentence in Azkaban, he had to bear with the responsibility of the family’s loyalty towards the Dark plan.

Blaise blurted out a small chuckle to Draco’s words.

“Amused, Blaise?” the blonde boy replied. “We’ll see just who’s laughing in the end.”

Draco heard a noise coming from the rack above their seats and saw his bag having slightly been moved. Someone was eavesdropping on the conversation through an invisibility spell, and he bet on bloody Potter. He didn’t talk much after knowing the conversation was not confidential. In what twisted pathetic adventure was Potter trying to be the hero on this time? His blood was boiling by just having to pretend not knowing he was there. That tosser that everyone always praised – he wouldn’t last two days in his position. After all, life was not about heroic acts, corny speeches, and lucky fate – some people had been given a family name to respect, an expectation to be met. He thought, once again, about the mission that had been commended to him by the Dark Lord; how his wand would have to end the life of the greatest wizard alive; how he would go onto History as the man who assassinated Albus Dumbledore. He realized his hands were sweaty and his heartbeat higher than normal. He tried to keep his composure in front of everyone in the wagon and fixed his gaze on the rich green Scottish fields – clouds welcoming him to a thunderstorm.

ྀ࿔

“Ah! Y/N Diggory! Come in, come in…” Dumbledore greeted the girl in his office.

“Thank you,” she replied, following Snape. She didn’t take too much time to have a look at the curious, but glamorous place.

“Do you fancy my office? I must admit I am really fond of collecting peculiar objects,” he approached a table where all sorts of outlandish things were scattered. She noticed the blackness of his hand when he grabbed one of the objects, “I don’t always know what they do but I find them really unique as room decoration, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure being the headmaster has its advantages when it comes to decorating.”

“Oh, being the headmaster has plenty of advantages, Miss. Diggory,” he replied in a whispery tone.

“Now, you, as a new Hogwarts student, have also a lot of advantages;” he continued, “First of all, you are skipping from year one to year six, so you won’t have to bear first years’ Potions on how to make a cure for boils or first year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts on how to cast an Expelliermus.”

You simply nodded.

“Then, Professor Snape has told me that you’ve already passed through the Sorting Hat and you have been assigned to Slytherin, is that correct, Severus?”

“It is.”

It was not correct. She hadn’t gone through any house assignation, but she understood that Dumbledore didn’t know about it, and that Snape had probably settled her in Slytherin for a reason – therefore, she didn’t question it.

“Wonderful. An ambitious, clever girl, I see”.

She smirked at him. She bet he was not by any means a Slytherin himself.

“Lastly, I assume you have all this year’s textbooks, ingredients, plants, constellation maps, perhaps? Oh! I assume you have a pet by now! And a wand…”

She looked at Snape, knowing that she hadn’t bought any of those things herself. Except for the wand that she got at Ollivanders when she was eleven, after Druella had told her she would get a private tutor to teach her magic.

“She has,” Snape simply replied, without giving her any look back.

“Then everything seems to be settled. How are you feeling, Miss. Diggory?” Dumbledore deeply stared at her. This time, she felt like he really wanted to know the answer.

“Really honored to join the school, Sir.”

“My door is always open for any visits. Never underestimate the magic of being listened, Miss. Diggory.”

She nodded and followed Snape downstairs, thinking she was probably never going to step into that office again.

Snape and Y/N arrived at the dungeons of the school, where the Slytherin dormitories could be found. Snape turned around to talk to Y/N.

“All of your things are in your dorm, number 3, all the schedule and times are also in your dorm, the password to the common room is pure-blood… don’t want you sneaking after ten p.m. or you could get… into trouble.” His intimidating black eyes were on hers. He turned around with a swing of his cape.

“Oh,” He turned towards her again, “supper starts at six.”

She was alone in the castle for the first time. She uttered the password on a low voice and a bare stretch of stone wall opened, leading her to a corridor. Once she walked through it, only lightened by torches hang up on the stone walls, she arrived at the common room. It was a high ceiling, ample room; dark green shades flickering from the multiple windows. Low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas were placed all around the room; skulls on top of tables; and dark wood cupboards. Tapestries of numerous medieval figures decorated the walls. Y/N noticed the highlighted portrait of an old man that she recognized to be Salazar Slytherin, founder of the Slytherin house and one of the four founders of Hogwarts. She knew this because she was a distant relative of his, through her father of course. She noticed she was alone and headed directly to her dorm.

Her dorm was a five-bed room with one bathroom. She recognized her bag next to one of the beds. On the side table, she found a pile of textbooks; she started leafing through some of the books: Advanced Potion-Making, A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration, Flesh-Eating Trees Of The World… Her eyes wondered to the parchment at the right where her schedule and attending courses were shown. She started to read through the different school norms and times when she felt something brushing her leg. She startled at the contact when she saw a small black kitten going under her bed. She kneeled and grabbed it, putting it on the bed. The kitten had big emerald eyes that were looking into hers, as if it had some sort of human spirit inside.

“You must be my pet, huh?” She grabbed it again and looked to confirm the sex. “A Miss… Should give you a name, shouldn’t I?” She laid down on her bed caressing the kitten on her chest, thinking of a name for her. She realized that it was the first time she let herself sink down and relax since her arrival. A lot of thoughts were constantly crossing her mind telling her to focus on everything, to plan everything, to think about everything – it was exhausting. Exhausting… she came up with something.

“Your name is Exhonia. What do you think?” she asked the kitten as if she was going to reply. The kitten was scratching her jumper.

“Okay Exhonia, don’t get too ahead on yourself.” She grabbed the rather turbulent cat and placed it next to her on the bed.

The only time she had ever dealt with a cat was a the Diggory’s house, near Ottery St Catchpole. Cedric’s pet had been a brown and white cat, a rather upset one she might add, especially when Cedric was not around anymore. She had gone to the Diggory’s a month after the boy’s death when Father had asked her to.

“What can I do for you, dear?” a middle-aged man, short and plump opened the door of the cottage.

“My name is Y/N, Sir – is this the Diggory’s house?”

“Yes, yes… what is it that you want?” he wouldn’t entirely open the front door, as if he didn’t trust the world outside.

“I came to talk to you. I was really close to Cedric.”

The man seemed to freeze.

“And I was hoping to come and meet you since you would’ve been my father-in-law”.

And that is how she managed to spend a year living under the roof of the Diggorys. Amos Diggory fully believed her when she told him the story of how she was supposed to marry Cedric once he would end the Triwizard Tournament; how they had wanted to wait until the end of it to tell his parents. She told him, through a little bit of sobbing, how her parents had dropped dead on a car accident, being herself a muggle-born, and that the only family she had left was the Diggorys – even if she had never met them before. Amos and his wife found in her a beam of light; the spirit of Cedric in a beautiful fifteen-year-old girl. They never questioned the story, nor her intentions and adopted her as a Diggory that had always belonged in the family. It was not until one year later that Y/N shared with them her dream of attending Hogwarts, as Father had contacted her back and told her it was time she fulfilled her mission. They accepted with little objection, happy that they could spoil a girl as they once did to Cedric. Y/N, as a sign of gratitude, asked them if she could inherit their last name, to which they happily agreed. She became Y/N Diggory, niece of Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, as she told them it would be more appropriate taking into consideration that no one knew about her planned marriage with Cedric. Even if Y/N didn’t really want to get mingled in the Diggorys life, she knew they were living in delusion, desperately looking to fill the void of their son’s death – which Y/N, in a way, managed to do. They were in need of a miracle, she offered them the fairiest of fairy tales… who cared if it was all a script of lies at the end of the day?

Her thoughts came back to the present moment when she heard a bell chiming the hour. Six, so she counted. She decided to go down for supper, still curious that no students had yet come to the common room.

She walked up the stairs and dived through the hallways, meeting no one on the way. When she started to hear some familiar voice she recognized as to Dumbledore’s, she followed it, understanding she was somehow late to some sort of first day speech. But in the middle of her wanderings, an old-wrinkled man with a cat yelled at her.

“And what do you think you’re doing lurking in the hallways?” He firmly grabbed her by the arm.

“I was looking for the Great H- let go of me!” she replied, trying to get rid of his grip.

“The headmaster will hear about your wanderings, young lady!” He dragged her towards the doors of the Great Hall. Both doors slammed open when he pushed them with his bare hand. Dumbledore’s speech was immediately interrupted. Hundreds of eyes turned towards the old man’ and Y/N’s direction.

“Headmaster, sorry to provoke such an entrance but I found this girl wandering around the castle, missing the opening ceremony” he gave her away to everyone in the room. He pushed her forward so everyone could see who he was screaming about.

She stood at the beginning of the corridor between the students’ tables. She looked ahead, Dumbledore standing up in a podium, several professors sitting down behind him and, of course, a few inches away from her, long tables filled with students of different ages, different houses, staring at her like she was the most bizarre specimen. She decided to say something.

“Sir, I-“

“There’s no need, Miss. Diggory,” after her last name had been dropped, all students started to look at each other, mumbles starting to form, “you can join your table with the other Slytherin students.”

She didn’t reply, hearing how the room had become a cloud of voices at this point.

“Thank you Argus for the help. But, Miss. Diggory was just lost, being this her first day at Hogwarts.” The voices intensified. “Now, while it is always very joyful to welcome new students, I must ask you to stop the chatter.” Students seemed to listen to him, and seconds later there was little to no sound.

Y/N sat down on the first free seat at the Slytherin table, still feeling like half of the students’ gazes were settled on her. Once Dumbledore had proceeded with his speech, she discretely took a look on the people that surrounded her. Four large tables divided the Great Hall, one for each house. Her gaze wondered through the Gryffindor table, looking for a certain scared-boy. She of course knew about the prophecy, as well as she knew the history between him and her father. She had thought about eventually meeting Harry Potter but never really figured how she would react to his presence. Should she hate him, pity him, fear him? The boy was her age – which didn’t leave a lot of room for fear. But she was still curious to see how they would react to one another, even if the boy was unaware of who her father was, as well as everyone. She guessed she would eventually meet the chosen one during class.

Her eyes turned back to Dumbledore, who was finishing talking, when someone pulled their arm towards her.

“They are calling you from there,” a dark-haired boy told her, while pointing to the other side of the long table.

She switched her focus to look for the person who was calling her. A blonde boy tilted his head down to meet her gaze. He playfully tilted his eyebrows while a smirk made its way to his face. She smiled at him while slowly shaking her head. It was no other than the heir of the Malfoys himself. He stared deep into her eyes a little longer, then shifted his gaze back to some Professor that had started talking. She looked at him a little longer, letting herself feel for no more than five seconds the accelerated heartbeat that she was still unfamiliar with. She eventually switched her gaze back to the Professor too. The Slytherin heir was back at Hogwarts, and this time, she had the Prince of Slytherin by her side.

part two

[damnedserenity]

R2 and this time it's Pandora! It was very hard to choose someone against zeus and replace Dadam. I considered Eve for obvious reasons but relented when I saw someone comment about Pandora and man what a fight ghat would be. Let the games begin ig?

Intro

In Myth

•Pandora is a woman made by the Greek god Hephaestus on orders of Zeus himself to punish humanity for stealing fire from the gods

•The gods contributed to her creation "Athena taught her needlework and weaving; Aphrodite "shed grace upon her head and cruel longing and cares that weary the limbs"; Hermes gave her "a shameless mind and a deceitful nature"; Hermes also gave her the power of speech, putting in her "lies and crafty words"; Athena then clothed her; next Persuasion and the Charites adorned her with necklaces and other finery; the Horae adorned her with a garland crown. Finally, Hermes gives this woman a name: "Pandora [i.e. "All-Gift"], because all they who dwelt on Olympus gave each a gift."- Wikipedia

•She was gifted to the brother of Prometheus (Epimetheus) by Zeus who depsite giving warning to not accept any gifts from Zeus took pandora as his wife but only did he take her he also took the jar with her (or box if you want)

•Pandora was given a jar and told to never open it but curiosity got the best of her and she did. This led to all the evils in the world to plague humanity

In Au

•She came after Adam but before woman which doesn't make much sense; she was the first mortal woman as things like death, calamity etc didn't exist before her. Eve was immortal in a sense and the world was populated by men handcrafted by the gods

•Similar to her myths she was taken care of by the Olmpian gods and particularly Hermes who she was close with. The two would hang out often in gardens making mischief

•However she was soon given to Empimethius and her days of comfort ended. She lived on Earth and quickly realised she hated it there but due to Zeus being Zeus she was unable to leave and Hermes' consolations and promises that she'll leave soon didn't let her rest

•She was given the jar by Zeus himself as a gift and in a fit of rage for her circumstances she broke it and the god's plan worked. No one other than Hephaestus knew about it and the gods were shocked at what could've happened, pandora managed to escape and later it was revealed who really was behind it and yet the blame on her never faded away

•After the jar she was practically abandoned no god answered her prayers and soon she was stuck roaming the Earth

•Her entrance comes not only as a shock to everyone in the arena but also dread to the Greek gods. In an embroidered silver veil covering her red hair and wearing silver crown she looked downright murderous

•Pandora for the past thousands of years had essentially been in a coma induced state locked away in a vault in Valhalla, the existence of which was unknown to most shocking the greeks' especially

•The reason why the Greeks were so on edge gets revealed soon as just as Heimdall announces the beginning Pandora rushes out and strikes Zeus... with Poseidon's Amphitrite stunning everyone. Zeus notes that it is not actually Amphitrite but a good replica of it, her Volund having shifted to mimic his trident

•The gods all gifted Pandora their power, and from this power she was able to mimic their powers to an extent and fight them with their own moves

•Like this she makes an onslaught of godly techniques even hitting Zeus with his own mcuh faster

•The gods mock her for stealing from them before she reminds them they were the one to willingly gift her their power and sow the seeds of their own destruction

•Problem is she gets burnt leading to what caused her defeat, the onslaught itself caused her body to be unable to sustain so amny moves despite the fact that these were given gifts, leading to her body giving out and rupturing her own organs

•Hermes looks away unable or unwilling to take in the scene even after persisting throughout the fight

•She dies saying that humanity's hope stayed in that jar with her and was the only thing keeping her alive all these years. She swears that hope isn't dieing with her and instead being passed onto all of the humans there, that she will live on as long as humans have hope

Bonus: She kicked him the nuts so bad that it's permanently damaged. To all the Greek mythology fans, your welcome.

[blooming-briars]

Wanted some Shu and Mado conversation to explore possible angles on their dynamic as host and headmate and it turned into a ficlet so that's fun lol

Here, have some stressy depressy Shu and his loving functional, Mado

It’s a thought that’s kept Shu sane many times – a rather laughable consideration, in truth, but the truth nonetheless.

---

Even when he says nothing, she always understands; no matter what happens in this life, he’ll never be alone, with her by his side.

You don’t have to be alone anymore, she says to him. It’s alright to want to not be alone.

She’s right, but she always is. Sometimes he gets angry with himself for hiding behind her, for making her say the things he’s not ready to yet, to others and himself alike…

But she is never angry with him for his failings, no matter how much he hates himself.

Today is just another one of those days, the kind where he wishes he could just turn his brain off and function like he’s supposed to. How much easier it would be to have someone pull his strings; if only there were someone who could.

Isn’t that why you have me?

“Mademoiselle,” he mutters disdainfully, “If anyone is pulling anyone else’s strings, it is not you pulling mine.”

Equally disdainful, she hums but doesn’t correct him. He knows the truth, and fears it, yes. That it truly isn’t him in control, that she, his very own creation in the truest sense, could one day come to rule over him…

And yet, in a way, it would be a relief.

Shu, you’ve spent too long trying to rule over everyone and everything in your grasp. Sooner or later, you’ll have to let things go, or they’ll slip through your fingers regardless. Even the important ones.

He knows.

He does know, as much as he hates it, and although he’s not yet ready to admit as much aloud, even to her.

And yet…she is right. He can’t hide the glimmer of thought from her, either, any more than he can hide from her smug little hum to herself, knowing that he’ll give in sooner or later.

Yes, it’s true that he burdens himself with many things – but that’s only because he can’t trust anyone else to take them on! It’s not as if he wouldn’t entrust them to others if he could, he’s not some kind of control freak or anything-

Then which things will you let go, first?

His laundry list of things to do flashes through his mind, a seemingly endless scroll. The day’s half-over and there’s already so much that has to be done, but the tasks for tomorrow and the next day, and the one after…the coming weeks, the months after…it stacks, one after another, into a mountain that feels insurmountable. No matter how capable he is, how utterly brilliant, even he is only a man. He can’t simply lift mountains as if they’re nothing! If he had started this morning as he’d intended to, things may look different, but as it is, he has to account for four lost hours, not counting the hours lost yesterday, and – how? How will he manage?

The list of tasks shifts, abruptly yielding to mental math as he tallies the amount of time each remaining task will take, and how much time he has in the first place. He’s always worked on tight deadlines, since Valkyrie has always had just enough money to get by if they kept doing as much for themselves as possible. If he could contract out like fine it might be another story, but…

No, he’ll make it work. He has to. Kagehira is counting on him, so he’ll do what he always does and-

And. And what?

And choke, like he did before? Fall to pieces? Lose himself entirely?

Abandon the one who stood by him?

For a long time, weeks, he hadn’t even been able to bear to look at Mademoiselle. He couldn’t stand to hold her, to hear her – if he did, he would have to hear her kindness, and he couldn’t stand it. The scolding he could bear, but to actually hear her assure him of all the things he wanted so desperately to hear was too much.

And yet, in time he’d turned to her once again, because…

Because I’ll never leave you. Because you don’t have to face it alone, even when you don’t know how to turn to them, yet. She giggles, adding, Even when you don’t know how to turn to me. I’m still here, even when you can’t let yourself hear me.

She’s too precious to risk damaging with reckless handling, but Shu closes his eyes and hugs the pillow tighter to his chest, wishing that it was her he was hugging. Sometimes he wishes…

That I could stand beside you in a body of my own, a human just like you and sweet little Mika. I know…but I can only be what I am. A piece of you. For the rest, you’ll have to turn to them.

“To him,” Shu huffs, correcting her. He knows what it is she meant. “You hardly need to spare my delicacy when we’re alone, you know.”

“Hm? If you already know, what stops you?”

“You already know that.” He glowers at her, perched perfectly on her little couch on the shelf; expressionless as her form may be, he can feel the amusement radiate from her.

“Remind me?”

He sighs. “Later. For now, I have to finish adding that braided trim. If I don’t update our costumes, people may think we’re resting on our laurels once more, and we can’t have that. Valkyrie does have an image to maintain, after all…”

For now, she lets the matter go. There will be plenty of time another day for such matters; it’s enough to hear the truth acknowledged, even obliquely.

At last, Shu pulls off the blanket and stands, brushing himself off. True, his Saturday may be half-over, but that doesn’t mean it’s been wasted. He still has half the day, and he can make up for lost time – although not by cutting corners. Never that, he wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing. The very idea of taking shortcuts with his art is abhorrent!

“Let’s sit by the window today, I’d like to enjoy the breeze.”

He smiles. He knows what she’s doing; his mood is always improved by fresh air and sunshine, although he’ll have to mind where he sets her at this hour. Just like his Mademoiselle to always be looking out for him, gently prompting him in the right direction…

“I only suggest,” she demurs. “I would never dream of leading.”

“Of course.”

Whatever the future holds for him for – them – this afternoon holds only hours of hand-stitching and idle conversation – and the days and weeks and months to come feel far more bearable, it turns out, when he has the chance to spend uninterrupted quiet time with needle and thimble and his most beloved companion.

“Lifting a mountain is foolish. Better to go over, like Hannibal himself.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting you might want elephants at Valkyrie’s future performances…”

“Nonsense! As if I would ever-”

Her giggles tell him, too late, that it was a joke…but the gentle amusement is nice, even if his weak, awkward defensiveness isn’t diminished in any way. “I- they’re filthy- and the stage, they would-”

She sighs silently, a gentle and bemused sound. I’m glad that you can relax with me, at least, Shu.

“Well, who else?” He huffs and scowls – and pricks himself with the needle, which means he has to go and get the bandages, because he would never dream of doing anything as uncouth as Kagehira and simply putting a wounded digit in his mouth. Even with the interruptions, though, and the teasing, he has to admit at last…

“It is nice.”

That’s as much of a concession of affection as even Mademoiselle will get from him.

For now, at least. There’s no telling what the future holds, on countless other afternoons to come with fresh breezes and quiet hand-sewing to soothe the spirit.

[fill-me-with-your-memes-daddy]

Watching the Rise of the Titans movie and I'll be documenting all of my thoughts/reactions here. [Spoiler Warning]

So instead of reblogging every new update, I'm just going to have this post up on my phone as I watch and type my reactions in a bullet list format.

Nari's human disguise is so cute. As someone who does have a cottagecore aesthetic, I want to cosplay her so bad

Are Skrael and/or Belroc non-binary coded? Regardless, I'm also obsessed and I want to fuck Skrael and be Belroc.

STEVE CARING ABOUT JIM BEING HURT YESSSS!!! My god his redemption has probably been one of the greatest there is because he doesn't just suddenly go from being a bully to a completely good person. You can see the gradual shift in learning better throughout the shows which is awesome.

IN NEW YOOOOOOORRRRRRRK!!!!!! CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

The mugshot montage reminded me of season 1 of trollhunters when toby and Jim were arrested at the museum.

STRICKLER PUT A RING ON IT??? HE'S THE ONLY DILF IVE EVER ACTUALLY AGREED WAS HOT WYM I CAN'T HAVE HIM??? well I'm still really happy about his arc over the series probably one of my favorite character growths.

Eli my guy got his growth spurt!!! As an 18 year old who is still 5'0", I'm happy but envious for him

So I went into this movie without watching any trailers or promo, but I doubt anything could have prepared me for the existence of mpreg. In fact, I wasn't going to document my reactions until I saw that.

NAMURA!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!! I CAN STILL THIRST FOR YOU WITHOUT GUILT

The coach teacher just called the kids zoomers so I have to dock one point from my final rating just because of that. Unforgivable

Those husky animation models suck lmao

Oh fuck the titans got power ranger zords!!

God why did they include the mpreg??? This movie would have been perfect without it.... After that plot point being revisited only one time I'm already beyond done with it

Like it's bringing me back to the v*ltron days where they're was a suspiciously high amount of klance omegaverse and mpreg fics and art created and it physically hurts because Steve and Keith's voice actor is the same person meaning this is especially cursed to me since I was unfortunately in the v*ltron fandom and remember all of that

But like on another note, how old are these characters again??? I haven't checked any wikis because of spoilers but is Steve an adult??? I know aja might be technically a lot older than 18 because alien but is whatever age she is equivalent to an adult as far as emotionally and physically in Akaridion development??? IS THIS A TEEN (M)PREGNANCY IN A KIDS SHOW????

Like bruh I saw a singular post on here before going into the movie that was like "rott spoilers without context" and there was a pregnant belly but I was absolutely not expecting the actual context of it. I'll find the post after I finish and edit this post to tag the creator right here: @makoden

This entire post is just gonna be me ranting about mpreg huh

Anyway I love the whole roundtable allusion to the legends of king arthur (not the toa version but the one he's based off)

THERE'S 3 TO 5 BABIES????? I need to take a break bruh this is just too much

Alright I've taken a 30 minute break got some food and did some things i love (decompressed by tactile stimming with some owl plushies and watched some videos on my favorite owl, Garu. He lives in Japan with his owner and is a domesticated eagle owl who basically just acts like a sky cat. If anyone else needs some eye bleach, here is their YouTube channel)

Blinky and ARRRGHHH!!! saying their "if one of us doesn't make it" talk my god one of them is going to die I can see it and I will be utterly crushed. Jim can't lose another father figure and Toby can't lose his wingman again I will riot if this happens

On a similar but unrelated to the movie note, can we just talk about how toa started with Jim having 0 dads and (if strickler and blinky live to the end) will end with 2 dads? Like I just really feel happy for him that he has two dads who actually figured out how to put the past behind them to not have any infighting between them so that both of them are healthy father figures. Jim has already been through literal hell and back losing his actual humanity in the process so if he loses one of them, I'm going to be really pissed because at this point, this is just Jim torture porn. Y'all know how as SpongeBob SquarePants went on, the show just became Squidward torture porn? It's starting to feel that way for toa and I really hope they cut the shit by the ending

Jlaire is such a good ship but like I feel like it's too perfect they never disagree with each other

YESSSSSSS Someone finally doesn't treat toby like a fat waste of space who messes stuff up!!! I think out of all the characters that would have been most deserving of a rewrite, it's Toby. Sometimes I just feel he's only comic relief and any heartfelt moments he's had in the series was also born of stupidity (ie his flour baby project being unharmed was seen by him as divine intervention from his parents but was actually just Eli and Steve behind the scenes).

Ohhhhh yesssssss Archie's father!!! I was hoping I'd see him again because we got so little of him last

Ooooooooooh Asian trollmarket!!!!!

Oh never mind slavery trollmarket

Bruh titanic camelot

I feel like we're not seeing enough of the villains because I completely forgot about the power ranger zord things

NAMORA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY LAST CRUSHHHH

STRICKLER NO NOT YOU TOO PLEASE

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE ONLY TWO CHARACTERS I SIMP FOR ON THIS SHOW DIED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF EACH OTHER

THAT WHOLE ASS RANT I WROTE IS COMING TRUE FUCK THIS MOVIE THIS SERIES IS JUST JIM TORTURE PORN

WAIT JIM'S SPERM DONOR INFO?

Oh thank God I don't want to know anything about that person

For the record, I call that man Jim's sperm donor because he has no business being called a father to him. All he did was donate some swimmers to the creation of him and give him abandonment issues

Oh another blind troll elder???? This fucker is just if vendel was a bad guy

Bruh I was grieving

PACIFIC RIM WITH GUN ROBOT VEX AND THE BELROCZORD? I've never seen that movie but I know the reference

Bruh Blinky doesn't read horoscopes? Does he realize conspiracy theories are just the manly version of horoscopes?

NO DON'T KILL VEX STOP KO-ING FOUND FAMILY MEMBERS

Oh thank God he's okay

NO NOT ARCHIE AND CHARLEMAGNE OH MY GOD

oh never mind they're just gonna coup de tat I believe in them :))

But I want to see him again

But I'm glad to see vex

Yay they're in arcadia!

But yeah I wondered why the trolls and Merlin didn't keep the whole "daylight doesn't hurt trolls" feature from the eternal night but now Guillermo del Toro I see you were playing the long con in that just to kill my girl Namora :(((

Oooooh I love the animation of the Narizord over Chihuahua!! It looks very good and realistic (if only they could have put some of that into those huskies from before smh)

Bruh the character designs of the arcane order are so good I want to be them

Nari making sure the Skraelzord doesn't crush the bus

DAMN DOUBLE HOMICIDE

Bruh I'm just glad we finally have an answer on why arcadia had everything going on as opposed to literally anywhere else!! I always found that as a weird coincidence for plot convince.

BRUH WERE BACK TO THE MPREG IM SO JEALOUS I FORGOT ABOUT THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING THE LOSS OF MY LOVELIES.

Oh that's real convenient that the ninth configuration meant all of them. Way to not decide which character gets more attention. Though it probably was a smart way to not have any infighting in the fandom between each character's stan group.

Bruh I just realized where is Barbera did they just ditch her on the Camelot ship???

And where are the other trolls that migrated at the end of trollhunters s3? They said something about new jersey but obviously Jim and the other main characters got on Camelot instead.... This feels like a plot hole

And we never learned the process of how changelings are made and bonded to humans and stuff. We just know it's super painful but I'm curious ffs!!!!

THE DONT THINK BECOME HERO SPEECH ALL SAID TOGETHER!!!

BRUH THEY REALLY HAD TO SHOW HIM GIVING BIRTH??????? WAS THAT AN ABSOLUTE MUST??????

Plus the main audience for this series is little children (the rating for the movie is literally TV-Y7) so even though my adult ass is not in the target audience, I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD MPREG AND ANAL BIRTH WOULD BE AN IMPORTANT THING TO 7 YEAR OLDS???? THIS IS A LITERAL FETISH HIDDEN IN KIDS CONTENT ITS ELSAGATE ALL OVER AGAIN Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭😭

Though it's probably hypocritical of me to think fetishes don't belong in kids tv when I've openly admitted to thirsting for strickler and namora

HUZZAH

NEW AMULET WAZ GOOD????

STAB THAT BITCH JIM

WAIT NO I SAID STAB NOT GET STABBED

Alright good job just missed the directions at first but you fixed it

SEVEN KIDS?????????

T O B Y ????????????

W A I T NO

N O

IS HE ACTUALLY

OH MY GOD THERE'S HOPE

NO THERE ISN'T

F U C K THIS SHIT THEY REALLY JUST HAD HIM TO BE BULLIED THEN KILLED

Y'ALL IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS NEVER HAPPENS

I NEVER ACTUALLY GET SO EMOTIONAL OVER MEDIA THAT I CRY IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE AT THE END OF VOLTRON BUT AHHHHHHHH

W A I T

HE'S GONNA BE BROUGHT BACK?????

HOLD UP THEY'RE JUST GONNA BRING ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE BACK??????

WAIT IS HE

BLINKY CALLED HIM A SON

HOLD ON IS THIS GOING TO BE A CLIFFHANGER???????????

BRUH THEY REALLY JUST CAN'T END THE SERIES WITHOUT CLIFFHANGERS like there's always an open ending

TROLLHUNTER TOBY????? You know what forget the whole rants I had on how toby was written they just redeemed it all

And that's all! I'd rate it a 6.5/10 because it's definitely the weakest of all the sequels but still had amazing animation and some good plot points. It's just really hard to look over the bad stuff enough to rate it any higher.

[brother-hermes]

GOYIM AND KABBALAH

Look. This is going to be one of the most difficult things I’ve ever tried to explain because my very being- my opus- is involved.

As I sit under the light of the full moon, back to the tree in my front yard, the very pulse of earth is moving within me. I am accutely aware of which trees have sprung from the seeds planted by the parent tree at my back. The night is still and yet it’s teeming with life. It is Ru’ahh- the breath of G-d I feel moving through all things but how did this happen? At what point did I become aware of Her presence and abandon all else on my journey? Where is the line between Christian and Jew in my mind? At what point did I cease to be Catholic?

The library unearthed at Nag Hammadi completely changed my perspective on the life and message of Christ. His own promise of the gift of Ru’ahh HakoDesh sent me within. After all, didn’t He urge us to sit in a closet and pray? Then a Rosicrucian text written in 1923 quoted the Gospel of Peace 30 years before its “discovery.”

Years of meditation- constant recital of the 72 triplets- later and The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz was given to me. A Frater from my order handed me his personal copy full of annotations and footnotes. This seemingly simple doctrine follows a similar pattern of the one found in the Apocalypse of John, what Christians know as Revelations. In it he speaks of communing with Sophia- Solomons Woman Wisdom. This mystical experience is one I recognized instantly having long since meditated in Her presence. I sought Her like silver just as Solomon suggested and found Her within.

Anyways, as I read of Christian Rosenkreutz taking this spiritual journey I couldn’t help but notice how blended the Rosicrucian path actually is. Here is a doctrine where the spiritual journey is divided into a seven day journey-referencing Genesis- to attend a Wedding on an evening before Easter- referencing, not only the Gospels, but the Wedding at Cana as well. It’s Alchemical in nature urging us to remember Hermès teachings and alludes to Platos Cave- the metaphysics behind Greek philosophy. He cuts the bread. That only happens in 9 books of the New Testament. There are also 9 Lords in attendance at this Wedding.

Genesis is tied into the story as a way to connect the dots between these seemingly different paths- all of which lead to One. “G-d said” appears 10 times. “G-d made” appears 3 times. “G-d saw” appears 7 times. The word G-d is used 12 times. 10 sefirot. 3 horizontal paths. 7 vertical paths. 12 diagonal paths. This is the Tree of Life. It serves as the basic framework for how Christian Rosenkreutz made it to this Castle- what I understand as a mountain Temple- to commune with the Creator.

There are Four Paths mentioned that one can take to achieve this goal. Couple that with several references meant to imply a connection between the Emerald Tablet and the Tree of Life and it’s no wonder I set out to understand why. Why would a Christian mystic explain how movement from Yesod, Hod, and Netzach moving from below to above correlates to the three step process of the Emerald Tablet? I mean, even the first day of Rosenkreutz journey ends painting the 4 step descent, 3 step ascent, and the one step re-descent. Why? What do the Emerald Tablet and Kabbalah have to do with what Christ taught? The question drove me mad.

The Wedding at Cana was the first of 7 miracles to be taken as signs of the Messiah. Specifically, the lawful Union of man and woman- or the reconciliation of polarity. The same polarity reconciled after 6 days of Creation through use of duality described in Genesis. It’s an allegory. Christ was teaching us how to reconcile our seemingly dualistic nature. The changing of water into wine implies the integration of our vehicles of consciousness- body and mind, waking mind and Spirit.

Even the number of disciplines outlined by Rosenkreutz isn’t merely a play on the 12 disciples. It’s 12 disciplines in three groups of four. Emanation, Creation, Formation, and Action. There’s no getting around going from below to above requires merkava- vehicles of consciousness. At the level of Assiah/Action, it’s easy to see this vehicle because we touch, taste, see, smell and hear with it, but as we move beyond that it gets decidedly more difficult. When we approach Atzilut/Emanation where we have no vehicle of consciousness because we are consciousness, what then? Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh. That same “I am” that manifests in the first word of the 10 commandments is the Divine expressing itself in the metaphor of Creature. That was Sophia/Chochmah manifesting within. Years of meditating at the Temple within my heart had taught me to trust the breath of G-d beyond anything else.

There was no escaping this truth. Prayer. Meditation. Study. Living a simple life. All of these disciplines had moved me to a place where I needed guidance. The Hermeticists of my order had much more in common with the Sorcerers of Kemet- Biblical Egyptians- than they did with those faithful to the Law. What could the descendants of Isis cults who genuinely believe we can reach the point of being gods teach me about ascending to the throne room of the one true G-d? Nothing.

Now I never abandoned Christ in all this. Even as I dove into deep meditative periods with heavy study almost never touching the Bible- Christian Rosenkreutz bridegroom I was still aware of how Christ is involved. See, if Chochmah/Wisdom is waves of energy, Binah/Understanding is form. With Christ as my template- the One manifested in the World of Formation- I chose to live in love. To be “the light that shone in the darkness.” But what Church would understand this journey? What Christian could hear this tale and not label me a heretic? Aside from one Anglican priest I had been completely isolated from the entire realm of Christianity.

So I did the only thing I could do. I turned to the source of this Ancient Mystery and joined a Kabbalah study group. I am a Gentile amidst the Chosen seeking Wisdom above all. Am I treated differently within the confines of said group? No. I came to this path after decades of prayer and meditation and it is doubtful this is the first lifetime I have spent in such a manner. I didn’t wake up yesterday and say “let me jack this culture and make it my own.” They know that because mystics are measured on what’s within more than they’ll ever be measured by appearance, race, or…

Trust and believe that every post I write comes from a place of love and I never intended to hurt or offend anyone. Mysticism had never been a game or a fad to me. This life cycle is one of dedication and servitude to G-d and humanity. That is the fulfillment of the Law- to love G-d with all of my mind and soul and to love my neighbor as I love myself. Humility may not always be my strong suit but my approachability runs high. You can always reach out to me with questions and ask why or how. Even in the mix of frustration I will gladly address anyone with the respect and dignity I would like to receive. Hehe. To receive.

That’s all I got.

[evilmortys]

okay,  so,  here  are  my  thoughts  on  the  finale,

i’m  gonna  start  with  the  things  i  didn’t  like,  just  because  of  who  i  am  as  a  person!  my  feelings  are  mixed,  but...  looks  lovingly  at  evil  morty.  he  truly  was  the  only  exception  as  usual  ♥

i’m  not  going  to  lie,  this  whole  thing  felt.  rushed.  although  some  of  rick’s  meta  commentary  about  not  touching  citadel  shit  because  it  was  canon  and  he  and  morty  were  supposed  to  be  going  back  to  lighthearted  one  off  adventures,  and  “the  second  he  reveals  that  he’s  evil,  we’re  out”  made  me  laugh,  it  also  felt  very  disingenuous  and  ham-fisted.  having  him  do  all  these  fourth  wall  breaks  honestly  took  away  from  the  impact  of  what  this  episode  could  have  been,  but  whatever.  

i  just  got  the  vibe  that  they  wanted  everyone  to  stfu  about  the  citadel  and  evil  morty,  so  they  quickly  stuck  together  this  episode  that  dealt  with  fans’  demand  in  one  fell  swoop  so  they  could  move  on  from  the  existence  of  both  plotlines.  i  honestly  thought  it  was  a  bit  wasteful  since  tales  from  the  citadel  resonated  with  a  lot  of  fans  and  it  was  an  interesting  bit  of  worldbuilding  with  compelling  narratives  going  on.

you  already  all  likely  know  how  irritated  i  am  with  morty’s  character  degrading  so  much  once  again.  this  entire  season  has  been  building  him  up  to  becoming  so  much  more  capable,  only  to  wrench  it  away  from  him  again  by  instead  having  his  co-dependency  with  rick  ramped  up  to  the  point  it  was  literally  out  of  character.  this  has  come  out  of  nowhere.  at  no  point  in  the  show’s  entire  run  has  morty  ever  been  this  needy  with  rick.  

again,  i  feel  like  this  may  have  been  written  around  what  eventually  ended  up  happening  at  the  citadel,  with  the  revelation  that  mortys  are  ‘bred  for  forgiveness.’  it  would  have  been  far  more  compelling  for  our  morty  to  have  continued  to  go  down  the  path  of  being  decidedly  unforgiving  of  rick’s  bullshit,  thereby  making  him  deviate  from  the  norm  in  a  similar  way  to  evil  morty  himself  and  implicating  that  the  cycle  of  a  morty  going  to  these  extremes  is  going  to  be  repeated  once  again.

rick  did  not  deserve  or  earn  voicing  the  recognition  that  his  dynamic  with  morty  was  toxic,  and  abusive.  are  you  fucking  kidding  me?  the  smartest  man  in  the  universe  only  JUST  clocked  onto  that?  bullshit!  he’s  known  all  along,  and  he’s  been  using  it  for  his  own  gain!  he  doesn’t  get  to  just  say  it  with  that  regretful  voice  as  if  he’s  been  clueless  /  oblivious  to  it  this  entire  time.  they  just  wanted  the  audience  to  feel  sympathetic  for  him  by  throwing  in  this  tidbit  and  a  tragic  backstory,  as  if  that  even  sort  of  makes  up  for  everything  he’s  put  his  family  through.  

abandoning  the  people  you’ve  hurt  is  ALSO  abusive  and  toxic  behaviour!  he’s  done  it  time  and  time  again!  how  is  acknowledging  the  fact  that  you  hurt  people,  that  you  hurt  your  family,  the  people  that  love  you  despite  the  fact  you  objectively  don’t  deserve  it,  then  ditching  them  once  again  instead  of  staying  with  them  and  improving  as  a  person  and  helping  everyone  heal  from  what  you’ve  put  them  through,  ANY  BETTER??  he  never  changes!!

i  also  couldn’t  really  process  the  fact  that  rick  just  handed  morty  his  portal  gun  like  it  was  nothing--  i  feel  like  him  topping  it  off  and  using  it  behind  rick’s  back  should  have  been  a  bigger  deal  than  what  it  was.  also,  morty  would  not  break  a  guy  out  of  a  mental  asylum  without  a  second  thought.  he  simply  wouldn’t  do  that.

we’ve  fallen  right  back  into  the  status  quo  of  morty  being  stupid  and  rick  being  the  smartest  one  in  the  room  who  always  knows  what’s  going  on,  even  when  he  actually  shouldn’t  for  the  sake  of  a  few  meta  jokes.  which  is  more  annoying  than  i  can  put  into  words  tbqh

obviously  i  hated  all  the  parallels  they  were  attempting  to  make  between  rick  and  morty  having  a  romantic  relationship  and  “breaking  up.”  never  has  morty  behaved  so  uncharacteristically  in  any  other  episode  of  the  show.  it  honestly  felt  disrespectful  to  all  the  growth  he’s  had  as  a  character  to  reduce  him  to  something  so  pathetic.

i  guess  this  is  less  of  a  thing  i  disliked,  and  more  of  a  commentary  on  rick’s  character?  but  once  again,  his  hypocrisy  really  leapt  out  at  me  once  it  was  revealed  that  he  always  has  a  hand  in  bringing  together  beths  and  jerrys  in  order  to  ensure  that  more  mortys  will  end  up  in  the  multiverse.  i  find  it  unbelievably  sad  that  he’ll  willingly  ensnare  the  two  of  them  in  the  throes  of  a  relationship  that  he  knows  is  likely  to  become  toxic  and  cause  the  both  of  them  to  be  miserable  throughout  their  time  together;  they’re  rarely  happy  /  compatible  together  and  always  end  up  sticking  it  out  for  the  kids.  it  also  makes  his  constant  shitting  on  jerry  even  more  egregious  and  almost  serves  to  call  his  love  for  his  daughter  into  question  for  me.  he’s  using  her  as  a  means  to  his  own  ends  by  manipulating  situations  so  she’ll  meet  jerry  and  they’ll  likely  end  up  together.  

don’t  get  me  wrong,  i  actually  really  loved  the  fact  he  had  a  hand  in  founding  the  citadel  he  now  loathes  so  much,  and  i  think  the  constant  creation  of  mortys  as  grandsons  ‘bred  to  forgive’  ricks  is  so  fucked  up  and  awful  in  the  most  intriguing  way.  it’s  akin  to  him  fiddling  with  the  concept  of  keeping  mortys  in  constant  pain  to  cloak  his  comings  and  goings  around  the  multiverse  (on  paper,  morty,  on  paper!),  except  this  time  he  did  it  in  reality.

evil  morty.  oh  my  god,  evil  morty.  my  saving  grace.  my  ray  of  light.  i’m  so,  so,  so  pleased  with  the  way  he  was  handled.  while  i  admit  i  was  looking  forward  to  more  of  a  slow - burn  thing,  getting  a  bit  of  insight  into  his  presidency  and  possibly  exploring  a  dynamic  with  him  and  c-137  (we’ll  get  to  that)...  i  honestly  still  really  loved  what  ended  up  happening  with  him,  even  though  i  still  believe  on  some  level  that  they  just  wanted  to  tie  up  his  narrative  thread  so  fans  wouldn’t  remain  fixated  on  him.

of  course  he  did.  of  course  that  motherfucker  rick  created  a  boundary  within  the  infinite  multiverse  that  ensured  he’d  always  be  the  smartest  man  within  it  as  far  as  mortys  and  other  people  in  his  life  were  concerned.  i’ve  always  found  it  odd  that  such  universes  were  never  brought  up  even  in  passing;  the  nature  of  infinite  possibilities  always  dictated  that  someone  smarter  than  him  must  exist  out  there,  and  that  worlds  existed  where  he  was  nobody  special.

him  being  morally  gray.  i  could  cry.  i  was  clinging  on  to  the  hope  that  it  would  be  shown  he  hates  ricks  more  than  he  looks  down  on  mortys,  and  it  absolutely  was.  while  he  was  okay  with  killing  and  hurting  mortys  to  achieve  his  own  “selfish”  ends,  it’s  clear  that  he’s  unhappy  with  the  cycle  of  abuse  from  their  infinite  grandfathers  that  pushes  him  to  these  extremes,  loathes  the  concept  that  mortys  are  not  supposed  to  defy  their  ricks.  “if  you’ve  ever  been  sick  of  him,  you’ve  been  evil  morty  too.”  he  hates  ricks  FAR  more  than  he  does  mortys,  and  you  can  pry  that  from  my  cold,  dead  hands.  he  believes  mortys  are  beyond  help  because  of  the  way  they  stick  by  rick--  the  fact  they’re  literally  created  with  being  yes-men  for  rick  in  mind.

he  didn’t  seek  to  make  changes  for  the  greater  good  of  other  mortys  within  the  citadel.  i  think  he  understood  on  some  level,  it  was  impossible.  i  think  he  has  this  belief  that  other  mortys  are  part  of  the  problem,  because  they  perpetuate  the  cyclic  dynamic  of  toxicity  and  harm--  they  don’t  move  to  break  free  from  it  the  way  he  does,  and  so  he  feels  no  guilt  leaving  them  behind  while  he  breaks  into  the  aspect  of  the  multiverse  where  rick  has  no  power.  it’s  honestly  heartbreaking  that  he’s  come  to  have  a  mindset  like  that.  

i  think  seeing  c-137  reach  out  to  help  rick  up  once  again  instead  of  accepting  what  i  hope  and  pray  was  a  semi - genuine  offer  to  join  him  as  he  departed  was  just  yet  another  instance  of  him  witnessing  a  morty  doing  the  most  to  save  the  man  who  makes  their  lives  a  living  hell.  if  he  was  truly  unsympathetic,  he’d  have  made  no  such  offer.  if  he  thinks  a  morty  is  capable  of  pulling  away  from  the  hold  ricks  have  on  them,  he  wants  them  out  of  this  shit  just  as  much  as  he  himself  wants  to  break  free  from  it.  i  think  he  has  the  mindset  that  i  know  they  tried  to  play  it  off  with  “haha  the  other  seat’s  a  toilet,”  but  i  don’t  think  that  was  the  case  and  they  were  once  again  just  undermining  the  moment  for  no  good  reason.  SCREAMS!!  don’t  get  me  wrong  what  he  did  WAS  selfish  and  evil.  but  in  a  way  you  can  understand  where  it  derives  from

again,  it  REALLY  irritates  me  they’ve  undone  so  much  of  morty’s  character  just  to  ensure  he  wouldn’t  end  up  taking  evil  morty  up  on  his  proposition.  if  morty  had  retained  even  a  tenth  of  the  character  growth  he’s  been  having  from  late  season  four  until  towards  the  end  of  season  five,  wherein  it  began  to  unravel,  he’d  have  left  rick.  undeniably.

the  yellow  portal.  oh  my  god............

it  made  me  so  fucking  emotional  to  see  that.  he’s  won.  he’s  free.  

[lokiondisneyplus]

A review of “Journey Into Mystery,” the penultimate Loki Season One episode on Disney+, coming up just as soon as I paper cut a giant cloud to death…

Journey Into Mystery was the title of the first Marvel comic to feature either Thor or Loki. It began as an anthology series featuring monsters and aliens, but Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, and Larry Lieber were so smitten with their adaptation of the characters of Norse myth that the Asgardians gradually took over the whole book, which was renamed after its hammer-wielding hero(*).

(*) The early Journey Into Mystery stories treated Thor’s alter ego, disabled Dr. Donald Blake, as the “real” character, while Thor was just someone Blake could magically transform into, while retaining his memories and personality. It wasn’t even clear whether Asgard itself was meant to exist at first, until Loki turned up on Earth in an early issue, caused trouble, and Blake/Thor somehow knew exactly how to get to Asgard to drop him off. Soon, the lines between Thor and Blake began to blur, and eventually Thor became the real guy, and Blake a fiction invented by Odin to humble his arrogant son. It’s a mark of just how instantly charismatic Loki was that the entire title quickly steered towards him and the other gods.

But once upon a time, anything was possible in Journey Into Mystery, which makes it an apt moniker for an absolutely wonderful episode of Loki where the same holds true. Our title characters are trapped in the Void, a place at the end of time where the TVA’s victims are banished to be devoured by a cloud monster named Alioth. And mostly they are surrounded by the wreckage of many dead timelines. Classic Loki insists that his group’s only goal is survival, and any kind of planning and scheming is doomed to kill the Loki who tries. But this ruined, hopeless world instead feels bursting with imagination and possibility.

There are the many Loki variants we see, with President Loki, among others, joining Classic, Kid, Boastful, and Alligator Loki. There are the metric ton of Easter Eggs just waiting to be screencapped by Marvel obsessives (I discuss a few of them down below), but which still suggest a much larger and weirder MCU even if you don’t immediately scream out “Is that… THROG?!?!?” at the appropriate moment. And all of that stuff is tons of fun, to be sure. But what makes this episode — and, increasingly, this series — feel so special is the way that it explores the untapped potential of Loki himself, in his many, many variations.

This is an episode that owes more than a small stylistic and thematic debt to Lost. It’s not just that Alioth looks and sounds so much like the Smoke Monster(*), that it makes a shared Wizard of Oz reference to “the man behind the curtain” (also the title of one of the very best Lost episodes), or even that the core group of Lokis are hiding in a bunker accessible via a hatch and a ladder that’s filled with recreational equipment (in this case, bowling alley lanes). It’s also that Loki, Sylvie, their counterparts, and Mobius have all been transported to a strange place that has disturbing echoes from their own lives, that operates according to strange new rules they have to learn while fleeing danger, and their presence there allows them to reflect on the many mistakes of their past and consider whether they want to, or can, transcend them.

(*) Yes, Alioth technically predates Smokey by a decade (see the notes below for more), but his look has been tweaked a bit here to seem more like smoke than a cloud, and the sounds he makes when he roars sound a lot like Smokey’s telltale taxi cab meter clicks. Given the other Lost hat tips in the episode, I have to believe Alioth was chosen specifically to evoke Smokey.

Classic Loki is aptly named. He wears the Sixties Jack Kirby costume, and he is a far more powerful magician than either Sylvie or our Loki have allowed themselves to be. He calls our Loki’s knives worthless compared to his sorcery, which feels like the show acknowledging that the movies depowered Loki a fair amount to make him seem cooler. But if Classic Loki can conjure up illusions bigger and more potent than his younger peers, he is a fundamentally weak and defeated man, convinced, like the others, that the only way to win the game into which he was born is not to play. “We cannot change,” he insists. “We’re broken. Every version of ourselves. Forever.” It is not only his sentiment — Kid Loki adds that any Loki who tries to improve inevitably winds up in the Void for their troubles — but it seems to have weighed on him longer and harder than most.

But Classic Loki takes inspiration from Loki and Sylvie to stand and fight rather than turn and run, magicking up a vision of their homeland to distract Alioth at a crucial moment in Sylvie’s plan, and getting eaten for his trouble. He was wrong: Lokis can change. (Though Kid Loki might once again argue that Classic Loki’s death is more evidence that the universe has no interest in any of them doing so.) And both Loki and Sylvie have been changing throughout their time together. Like most Lokis, they seem cursed to a life of loneliness. Sylvie learned as a child that a higher power believed she should not exist, and has spent a lifetime hiding out in places where any friends she might make will soon die in an apocalypse. Our Loki’s past isn’t quite so stark, but the knowledge that his birth father abandoned him, while his adoptive father never much liked him, have left permanent scars that govern a lot of his behavior. The defining element of Classic Loki’s backstory is that he spent a long time alone on a planet, and only got busted by the TVA when he attempted to reconnect with his brother and anyone else he once knew. This is a hard existence, for all of them. And while it does not forgive them their many sins(*), it helps contextualize them, and give them the knowledge to try to be better versions of themselves.

(*) Loki at one point even acknowledges that, for him, it’s probably only been a few days since he led an alien invasion of New York that left many dead, though due to TVA shenanigans, far more time may have passed.

For that matter, Mobius is not the stainless hero he once thought of himself as. While he and Sylvie are tooling around the Void in a pizza delivery car (because of course they are), he admits that he committed a lot of sins by believing that the ends justified the means, and was wrong. He doesn’t know who he is before the TVA stole and factory rebooted him, but he knows that he wants something better for himself and the universe, and takes the stolen TemPad to open up a portal to his own workplace in hopes of tearing down the TVA once and for all. Before he goes, though, he and Loki share a hug that feels a lot more poignant than it should, given that these characters have only spent parts of four episodes of TV together. It’s a testament to Hiddleston, Wilson, Waldron, and company (Tom Kauffman wrote this week’s script) that their friendship felt so alive and important in such a short amount of time.

The same can be said for Loki and Sylvie’s relationship, however we’re choosing to define it. Though they briefly cuddle together under a blanket that Loki conjures, they move no closer to romance than they were already. If anything, Mobius’ accusations of narcissism in last week’s episode seem to have made both of them pull back a bit from where they seemed to be heading back on Lamentis. But the connection between them is real, whatever exactly it is. And their ability to take down Alioth — to tap into the magic that Classic Loki always had, and to fulfill Loki’s belief that “I think we’re stronger than we realize” — by working together is inspiring and joyful. Without all this nuanced and engaging character work, Loki would still be an entertaining ride, but it’s the marriage of wild ideas with the human element that’s made it so great.

Of course, now comes the hard part. Endings have rarely been an MCU strength, give or take something like the climax of Endgame, and the finales of the two previous Disney+ shows were easily their weakest episodes. The strange, glorious, beautiful machine that Waldron and Herron have built doesn’t seem like it’s heading for another generic hero/villain slugfest, but then, neither did WandaVision before we got exactly that. This one feels different so far, though. The command of the story, the characters, and the tone are incredibly strong right now. There is a mystery to be solved about who is in the big castle beyond the Void (another Loki makes the most narrative and thematic sense to me, but we’ll see), and a lot to be resolved about what happens to the TVA and our heroes. And maybe there’s some heavy lifting that has to be done in service to the upcoming Dr. Strange or Ant-Man films.

It’s complicated, but on a show that has handled complexity well. Though even if the finale winds up keeping things simpler, that might work. As Loki notes while discussing his initial plan to take down Alioth, “Just because it’s not complicated doesn’t mean it’s bad.” Though as Kid Loki retorts, “It also doesn’t mean it’s good.”

Please be good, Loki finale. Everything up to this point deserves that.

Some other thoughts:

* Most of this week’s most interesting material happens in the Void. But the scenes back at the TVA clarify a few things. First, Ravonna is not the mastermind of all this, and she was very much suckered in by the Time-Keeper robots. But unlike Mobius or Hunter B-15, she’s so conditioned to the mission that even knowing it’s a lie hasn’t really swayed her from her mission. She has Miss Minutes (who herself is much craftier this week) looking into files about the creation of the TVA, but for the most part comes across as someone very happy with a status quo where she gets to be special and pass judgment on the rest of the multiverse.

* Alioth first appeared in 1993’s Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective, a miniseries (written by Mobius inspiration Mark Gruenwald, and with some extremely kewl Nineties art full of shoulder pads, studded collars, and the like) involving Ravonna, Kang, and the off-brand versions of Captain America, Iron Man, and Thor (aka U.S. Agent, War Machine, and Thunderstrike, the latter of whom has yet to appear in the MCU). It’s a sequel to a Nineties crossover event called Citizen Kang. And no, I still don’t buy that Kang will be the one pulling the strings here, if only because it’s really bad storytelling for the big bad of the season to have never appeared or even been mentioned prior to the finale.

* Rather than try to identify every Easter egg visible in the Void’s terrain, I’ll instead highlight three of the most interesting. Right before the Lokis arrive at the hatch, we see a helicopter with Thanos’ name on it. This is a hat tip to an infamous — and often memed — out-of-continuity story where Thanos flies this chopper while trying to steal the Cosmic Cube (aka the Tesseract) from Hellcat. (A little kid gets his hands on it instead and, of course, uses the Cube to conjure up free ice cream.) James Gunn has been agitating for years for the Thanos Copter to be in the MCU. He finally got his wish.

* The other funny one: When the camera pans down the tunnel into Kid Loki’s headquarters, we see Mjolnir buried in the ground, and right below it is a jar containing a very annoyed frog in a Thor costume. This is either Thor himself — whom Loki cursed into amphibianhood in a memorable Walt Simonson storyline — or another character named Simon Walterston (note the backwards tribute to Walt) who later assumed the tiny mantle.

* Also, in one scene you can spot Yellowjacket’s helmet littering the landscape. This might support the theory that the TVA, the Void, etc., all exist in the Quantum Realm, since that’s where the MCU version of Yellowjacket probably went when his suit shorted out and he was crushed to subatomic size. Or it might be more trolling of the fanbase from the company that had WandaVision fans convinced that Mephisto, the X-Men, and/or Reed Richards would be appearing by the season finale.

* Honestly, I would have watched an entire episode that was just Loki, Mobius, and the others arguing about whether Alligator Loki was actually a Loki, or just a gator who ended up with the crown, presumably after eating a real Loki. The suggestion that the gator might be lying — and that this actually supports, rather than undermines, the case for him being a Loki — was just delightful. And hey, if Throg exists in the MCU now, why not Alligator Loki?

* Finally, the MCU films in general are not exactly known for their visual flair, though a few directors like Taika Waititi and Ryan Coogler have been able to craft distinctive images within the franchise’s usual template. Loki, though, is so often wonderful to look at, and particularly when our heroes are stuck in strange environments like Lamentis or the Void. Director Kate Herron and the VFX team work very well together to create dynamic and weird imagery like Sylvie running from Alioth, or the chaotic Loki battle in the bowling alley. Between this show and WandaVision, it appears the Disney+ corner of the MCU has a bit more room to expand its palette. (Falcon and the Winter Soldier, much less so.)

[thepartyresponsible]

For the wip ask (they all sound very interesting ngl it was hard to pick just one!) LostSteve

lost steve! yeah, so. what if shield defrosted captain america, and he broke out and just...kept running? what if they lost him? what if he ended up hiding out in tony’s tower, away from the fight for long enough to get his feet underneath him?

this fic is mostly about steve and tony finding each other first, so they can form the heart of the avengers, instead of the fault line that splits the team in half. here’s the first part of it.

                                                          —  

There’s an alert from Nick Fury that Tony chooses to ignore, for the sake of his convenience and Fury’s ongoing character growth. JARVIS announces its arrival and then diligently reminds Tony about the message twice before Tony tells him to mute it until morning.

“If it’s really that important,” he says, “they’ll just send someone to break in anyway.”

Which is why, on some level, he’s not at all surprised to find a man sitting on a couch in his penthouse twenty-seven hours later. He will admit to being caught somewhat off-guard by the specifics of the situation, though, because Steve Rogers has been dead for longer than Tony’s been alive.

“Zombie?” Tony asks. “Hallucination? Oh, clone? Are you a clone?”

Steve Rogers looks at him the way people look at wax sculptures. Like he’s interested in the details of the creation in front of him, but doesn’t believe for a second that what he’s looking at is real. “Mr. Stark,” he says, politely. His voice is deeper than Tony would’ve guessed.

“Robot,” Tony theorizes. “Sexbot? Updated Trojan Horse? If I let you inside me, are you gonna--”

The man’s brow furrows, and his mouth twists down, and his eyes are too sad for circuitry. No one would code that kind of grief.

Tony pauses for a moment, rocks forward onto the balls of his feet and then back onto his heels. He studies this intruder carefully. Someone sent him a Steve Rogers lookalike in a white t-shirt and stained khakis. He’s hale and healthy, built like a god, but his feet are bare and dirty.

Bloody, too. There are bloody footprints on the carpet.

“Wait,” Tony says. “Wait. Who the hell are you?”

There’s a long beat of silence. The man on his couch just stares at him, eyes tracing over Tony’s face, his shoulders, looking at him like he’s starving for something. He’s quiet and small, somehow, in a way that doesn’t relate at all to the amount of space his body takes up.

And then he stands, light and graceful on his bloody feet. His jaw tightens, and his shoulders pull up, and he’s an American Hero, suddenly and decisively, like he’s made some kind of choice about it.

“Mr. Stark,” he says, again, “I’m Captain America.”

And he is, Tony thinks. The same way that he’s Iron Man. Because once you put on that kind of armor, whatever else you used to be is irrelevant.

                                                           —

He’s Captain America, and he’s back from the dead. SHIELD had him and lost him, and Nick Fury wants Tony to go looking for him. That’s the message he left with JARVIS over a day ago. And Tony can’t imagine he was the first name on their list, which means Steve Rogers has been alone in the wrong century for an unknown but considerable amount of time.

“Hey,” he says, calling out from where he’s slouched against the kitchen island, watching Captain America dutifully eat through every scrap of leftovers Tony had in the fridge. “How long have you been here?”

“I was born here,” he says, through a mouthful of fried rice that he hides behind a napkin. He chews, swallows, and jabs his fork over Tony’s shoulder. “In Brooklyn.”

Tony knew that. Of course he knew that. He memorized everything about Steve Rogers back when he thought he could become enough like him to make Howard consider him worthwhile. “No, I mean,” he says, waving his hands, “in this century. How long have you been--- Jesus. I dunno. Awake? Aware? Unfrosted flakes?”

Steve blinks at him. He stares for a second and then ducks his head, stirs his fork through the open takeout box in front of him. “Spent a couple days,” he says. “Looking around.”

Looking around. Steve Rogers, unwitting time-traveler, barefoot in New York. What had he been looking for? Why did he come here?

“Why didn’t you get any shoes?” Tony asks, instead of any of the more complicated questions.

Steve tucks his feet under his chair. He washed them half an hour or so back, walking uneasily into the bathroom Tony showed him and then locking the door behind him, like he thought Tony was some kind of pervert who would bodyslam through the door to catch a glimpse of him sudsing up his bare ankles.

“Didn’t have any money,” he says, surprisingly mulish about it.

“You couldn’t smash and grab a pair of Sketchers?” Tony shakes his head. “If you get lockjaw, you’re gonna have to tell Fury you caught it from somewhere else. Fuck’s sake, when was your last tetanus booster? 1943?”

He shrugs. He doesn’t seem concerned. He’s busy eating his way through enough calories to keep your average winter-starved grizzly happy.

It’s hungry work, coming back from the dead. Tony remembers the unholy things he would’ve done for a cheeseburger.

“Didn’t have any money,” he repeats, scraping his fork around the sides of the takeout box, diligent and serious, like it’s the very last scrap of food he’ll ever get.

Tony clears his throat, hip-checks the counter to heave himself to standing. “I’ll get you some cash.”

                                                           —

There’s a weird moment, when Tony gives him the money. It’s just a few hundred dollars. He’s not Tony’s problem, not his project raised from the dead, but he still doesn’t want to give Steve Rogers the means to get himself truly lost in a world he doesn’t know.

Five hundred dollars will get him some food and somewhere to sleep for a few days, but it won’t get him far enough out of SHIELD’s orbit to get himself in trouble.

He looks up when Tony gets close. There’s a well-worn wariness in his eyes. He watches him the way a dog from a bad home might watch him through the bars of the shelter’s kennel. Resigned instead of hopeful, like he knows how this goes, like he knows he can survive it.

“Here,” Tony says. He leaves the money two chairs away from him, within easy grabbing distance. “And I have shoes your size, if you want to borrow them.”

“I don’t need that,” Rogers says, pointing at the money.

Tony lets his mouth tip up sideways, smirks like this is the part of the whole situation he finds truly unbelievable. “You’re going to come into my house,” he says, “uninvited, unannounced, and then you’re going to refuse to accept my hospitality? Rogers, what would your mother think?”

There’s a stall point in Roger’s stare, like watching a bird fly into a window. There’s a moment, right around the word mother, when those blue eyes blank out, and Tony’s just staring into empty space.

“She didn’t,” he says, and it’s fascinating. He’s stitching himself up right here at Tony’s dining table. Tony can practically see it happening, vertebrae stacking up, pulling him taunt like a needle tugging on a thread. “She never liked charity.”

Tony is familiar with pride. He has something of an overabundance himself, although he comes by it honestly. He knows hurt pride hates an audience, so he looks away.

“I imagine she hated the idea of you starving, too,” Tony says. “Probably worked very hard to make sure that didn’t happen. Going to waste all her work now, Rogers? Seems ungrateful.”

He’s half-taunting by the end of it. He’s not sure why. He finds weak points like a magnet finds iron. Sometimes he doesn’t even know what he’s pulling on until after he’s accidentally ripped out someone’s heart. It’s not one of the traits he’s proud of, but, like his pride, he knows where it came from.

Rogers glares at him, but he hooks the next takeout container over anyway.

“I’ll get those shoes,” Tony says. JARVIS has already measured; Rhodey left some boots that should fit.

Steve doesn’t say anything, but, when Tony comes back, the money is gone, and so is he.

                                                           —

Tony doesn’t tell Fury a damn thing. If Fury lost a national icon, that’s his problem. And anyway, Tony’s still not completely convinced that the blonde who materialized in his penthouse was actually Steve Rogers and not some kind of really confused, really well-built homeless man. Or a stripper.

Tony’s never actually met a stripper who showed up in khakis, refused to disrobe, and then ate ten pounds of takeout before silently disappearing, but he’d be willing to pay another five hundred dollars for a repeat performance.

He figures out how the maybe-Steve got into his penthouse. He upgrades the security, but he tells JARVIS to let him in if he ever comes back. He’s not sure what he’s hoping for, but he’s too curious to lock him out.

                                                           —

There’s a bit of nothing that kicks off in New York, some Hammer tech that goes haywire. Tony puts it down like the cheap knockoff that it is, but he gets stuck in debrief with Phil Coulson afterwards, because he’s not quite quick enough to abandon the scene after the fight’s over. In his defense, he was holding a car above a partially-trapped bicyclist, and Coulson caught him before the EMTs could finish disentangling her.

He makes it back to the Tower after an hour of mostly-wasted time. Steve Rogers is sitting at his dining table. Tony bites back the ludicrous urge to “honey, I’m home!” him.

“Hey,” he says instead, as he steps in from the balcony, stripped down to the skintight suit he wears under the armor. He didn’t expect company. “You get something to eat?”

Steve seems somehow offended by the question. “I didn’t break in here and steal anything,” he says.

“Okay,” Tony says, moving past him. “Well, that’s a gold star and an empty stomach for you, Rogers. We’re all very proud.”

“It’s not my food,” Steve tells him. If he had hackles, they’d be raised. Tony wants to pat him on the head, but only because he’s always had a sort of neurotic tendency to see how hard people bite before he decides whether to trust them.

“Yeah, and a twenty-dollar grocery bill is really gonna break me,” Tony says. He takes a smoothie out of the freezer. “You want pizza? I’m gonna order pizza.”

Steve stares at him for a long moment before he shrugs. “I could eat,” he says.

“Great,” Tony says. He has JARVIS order three pizzas, because he wants at least half of one for himself, and Steve Rogers is a human garbage disposal.

Steve takes a shower while they’re waiting. He asks first, which Tony supposes is the polite thing to do, and he takes his backpack with him, like he’s worried Tony’s going to steal his wallet.

“You know,” Tony says, when Steve remerges, wearing another knockout set of some grandpa’s Goodwill khakis and button-down shirt, “you keep showing up like this, and it’s gonna get harder for me to lie to Fury about having no idea where you are.”

Steve flips open a pizza box and carefully selects a slice. His hair is wet and neatly combed back from his face. He’s handsome from a distance but damn near devastating at close range. Tony takes another bite of pizza, hopes it’ll help swallow back the urge to sink a few grand into war bonds.

“Fury’s the guy with the eyepatch?” Steve doesn’t settle into a seat. He takes his pizza and wanders over to the window, stares out at the skyline.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Tony says.

Steve makes a face. Tony can see it, dulled and faded, in the reflection on the glass. “He’s persistent,” he says, slowly. Not like it’s a compliment.

“Yeah,” Tony says, again, “that’s him.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else. Tony finishes his slice of pizza, eats another one. There’s an ache in his right shoulder from being wrenched around by Hammer’s ridiculous creation, and he should be icing it, but he doesn’t want to. Not with Steve Rogers here.

He’s never liked looking human in front of an audience. His problem has always been that he couldn’t figure out how to stop. At least, not until he built his armor.

Steve comes back when he’s out of pizza. He’s catlike in his wariness, in the way he seems pissed at Tony for daring to exist in his proximity.

“That fight,” he says, apropos of approximately nothing at all. “Earlier.”

“Oh,” Tony says, rising out of his chair and moving toward the bar, giving Steve the room to loom over the pizza like he’s defending his kill. “You see that on the news?”

“Saw it on the street,” Steve says. “Heard the screams.”

Heard the screams and came running. So he’s still in the hero business. Fury will be happy to hear it.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed,” Steve tells him. He sounds angry about it. At Tony, not the situation. “Where’s your backup?”

“Backup,” Tony repeats. “Cap, c’mon. Read a newspaper. I work alone.”

Steve Rogers looks up from his pizza perusal just long enough to roll his eyes. It should feel like a slap across the face, and maybe it does. However it feels, Tony likes it. Wants more of it. There’s always been something grounding in being dismissed, like Tony’s never known where he stands until someone shows him how he doesn’t measure up.

“Is that supposed to be impressive?” Steve asks. “Men who work alone die alone, Stark. And they’re not very effective when they do.”

Tony knows he’s meant to be offended. He is, probably. But he couldn’t bite back his smile for anything. “I think I liked you better when you called me ‘Mr. Stark.’”

“Seems to me,” Steve says, “you want everyone to call you Iron Man these days.”

“Oh Captain, my Captain,” Tony says, “surely they had that line about glass houses in the ‘40’s?”

Steve frowns at him. “I never asked anyone to call me Captain America.”

“And yet,” Tony says, tipping a bottle of whiskey his direction, “that’s how to introduced yourself to me.”

Steve gives him a look like he thinks Tony’s being deliberately obtuse. “That’s who I am,” he says.

Tony rolls his eyes and flips a tumbler right side up. “But when I start using a stage name,” he says, “suddenly I’m a narcissistic asshole who doesn’t--”

“Do you think,” Steve says, looming up suddenly, shifting gears like something mechanical, going battle-ready with more decisiveness than a faceplate clicking down, “that anybody spent years, spent—I don’t know. Millions of dollars? Do you think anybody did that for Steve Rogers?”

Tony’s caught wrong-footed. He did it again. Drilled until he found the nerve, cut until he broke the skin.

“I think you don’t get one without the other,” Tony says, trying now to soothe. But he’s not very good at it. His instincts don’t run this direction. His whole life, the only things he could ever repair were machines.

Steve shakes his head. He steps away from the pizza. He looks around, eyes zeroing in on his backpack.

“Stay here,” Tony says, sidling out from behind the bar, whiskey now in hand.

Steve straightens up like a cobra, like he’s going to spit venom in Tony’s face. Tony wants to put his mouth on him, which is probably only half because he’s always been hellbent on his own destruction. The other half is that Steve Rogers is beautiful like something made in a lab for aesthetics alone, carefully designed for universal appeal. Tony likes to tell himself he has a taste for the exclusive, but the reality has always been he wants exactly what everyone else does.

“You don’t want SHIELD to find you,” Tony says, “then stay here. Trust me, this is the last place they’d think to look.”

He’s not standing between Steve and the exit. He was careful about that. Whatever SHIELD might think about him, he doesn’t have a death wish. And also, when he’s thinking about it, he’s not usually deliberately an asshole. It’s just that, most of the time, he’s not thinking about it.

“Why should I trust you?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs. Hell, he has no idea. “Why’d you come here? The first time. When SHIELD lost you, you came here. Why?”

“I went home,” Steve says, argumentative, all squared shoulders and tight jaw. “I went to Brooklyn. But it wasn’t there anymore. None of it was—I couldn’t find…”

He trails off, shakes his head, sharp and agitated, a horse bothered by a fly. It’s hard to look in his eyes. There’s something in them that Tony doesn’t want to see. It’s like watching a statue bleed.

“I heard there was still a Stark in New York,” Steve says. “I read about you. I thought maybe you’d--”

“You thought I’d be like Howard,” Tony finishes for him. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“I thought you’d be like me,” Steve says, which doesn’t make any sense at all.

“You,” Tony says. And then, a little helplessly, “What?”

Steve looks away. He shrugs, looks back. “I saw the suit,” he says. “On the news. I saw what it can do. I didn’t think--- things have advanced a lot. I didn’t understand. I thought Howard had…”

Tony squints at him. “You thought Howard did a Rebirth redux and tested it on his kid?”

“I thought a lot of things,” Steve says, snappy. “It was a very confusing couple of days.”

Tony can imagine that it was. “So you thought I was Rebirthed, and you wanted--”

“I didn’t want anything,” Steve says, and there’s that flash of exposed nerve again, that look like a sinkhole in the backs of his eyes. “That’s not the point.”

Tony takes a sip of his whiskey. It settles, warm and sweet, into his stomach.

I didn’t want anything.

I shouldn’t be alive, unless it’s for a reason.

Tony holds the tumbler out. Steve needs the warmth more than he does. “Here,” he says.

Steve takes it, seemingly on reflex. “I can’t get drunk,” he says.

“Well,” Tony says, circling back toward the bar, “not with that attitude.”

[kosmosguk]

5 days of spooktober~ #3: purity

day #3: angel hoseok x reader x demon yoongi

word count: 2.1k

summ. it seems like mortal beings, too, can fall from grace. 

warnings: smut, dubcon/noncon themes (mindbreak), yandere themes, 18+, blasphemy/sacrilegious acts, violence, abuse, explicit language, kidnapping

a/n: this was lowkey rushed (so lemme know if I made any spelling/grammar mistakes) because I’ve been super busy and I caught a mild cold because I was outside in freezing weather for several hours, but I hope you guys like it. Less than one week until Halloween <3

You were kneeling in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary, your hands clasped in prayer, and your eyes firmly closed. Your lips moved, softly and then rapidly, and a soft breath left them whenever you closed the last syllable of a word for the prayer. Even then, you could feel the marble eyes of the benevolent statue in front of you on you, watching you with serene eyes as a stone snake wrapped around her bare feet.

“For the strength to resist temptation, and for purity so that I may live clean of sin. Blessed mother, look upon me and guide me.”

You pushed yourself up onto shaky legs. When the door of the chapel shut clicked behind you softly, the building returned to a hush…

Until the eyes of the angel in the stain glass blinked open and the tongue of the stone serpent by Mary’s feet flickered out.

~

The convent was the safest place. As an orphan abandoned by your parents on the front steps of the building, you were left under the care of Benevolent Sister Bernadette and the other nuns of the convent. There, you had grown up, sheltered from the cruelty of the outside unforgiving walls, biblical scripture leaving indents in each bump of your tongue.

It was to no surprise that you had never encountered a man before. The sisters had told you, along with each of the girls you had grown up with, that God was your husband and that looking at a man with impure eyes would put you at the level of sinners banished to hell. So, it was a surprise when the sisters had let in two men.

They were travelling holy men, and they were seeking rest during their tiring journey. And they were handsome young men too, the kind that attracted the innocent-minded young girls of the convent’s school and left them giggling and whispering softly when the sisters had their backs on them.

You were at the back of the crowd, your fingers rolling on the beads of the rosary you kept firmly clasped in your grip at all times. You had no time to be giggling hopelessly about men who had sworn their own vow to God, not when you were only a few steps away from swearing yours. Having safely passed adulthood, you had made the decision to become a sister yourself.

You stepped back from the crowd and moved back to the sanctuary you found within the pews of the old abandoned chapel no one frequented. As you walked away, the echo of your footsteps on the cobblestone grounds drowned out by the hum of frivolously murmuring voices, you did not pay heed to the contemplative gaze that lingered on your retreating back or the lecherous eyes pinned to you.

~

“What was the sin of Eve? What had tempted her to be lured in by the Devil’s words?”

The ear-scraping echo of Sister Antoinette’s voice resounded in the walls of the nearly silent room. You propped your chin up on the palm of your hand, your eyes pinned to the carefully dried ink of the Bible in front of you. You had heard the creation story hundreds if not thousands of times to the point where you had memorized each verse and could recite it blindfolded and upside down.

The same situation would happen once more. After Sister Antoinette’s question, a girl would raise up her hands and answer in the same old way: “Her sin was that she did not know her position in the world. She was to be man’s wife.”

And like always, the words would leave a bitter taste in the back of your throat that you would swallow as you watched Sister Antoinette smile, pleased. And you would move on because moving on was the only way to don your habit and continue living a safe, sheltered life.

One of the younger girls was called on instead. You waited for the usual answer, but this time…this time was different.

“Sister Antoinette, I believe Eve had no sin. She did not want to live a life in which her position would be unequal to man, in which she would be trapped in a role subservient to him just because she was made from his rib. That was why she was tempted. She was not tempted by the apple, but she had been tempted through freedom.”

You couldn’t help the curve of your smile, and you shielded it with a careful hand. There was a sweeter taste in your mouth, but it quickly went bitter at the harsh sound of leather meeting tender palms.

Your eyes were drawn to the outside of the window, to the lush blue sky and the gray walls that shielded almost everything. Even then, your fingers couldn’t stop rolling over the wooden beads of your rosary.

Freedom, freedom…was it worth the cost of instability? In that very moment, for the first time in your life, you couldn’t help leaning on the side of agreement.

~

You were in the chapel again, your knees turning numb on the worn-out cushion as you recited your prayers. You were alone once more, until the soft swing of the door broke the soft hush of silence, and you swung around to look at the intruder.

There was one of the men that the sisters had let in. He seemed kinder than his counterpart, a warm smile brightening his features, and he shook his head softly as you got up to leave.

“Sorry, I did not mean to disturb your prayer. I was simply searching for a quieter place to meditate. Continue on and pretend that I’m not here.”

You nodded silently before turning back and clasping your hands back together.

“What’s your name?’’ his voice broke once more through your peace. “I’m Jung Hoseok.”

Your eyebrows crossed in agitation before they smoothed out. God would not want you to be angry at anyone, especially if they were one of his holy men.

“Reverend, it is the sanctity of the house of God that we as mere mortals of His creation do not dare to break. If you wish to know my name, ask me when we leave. But there can be no more earthly matters that exist while we are in His house.”

You heard him chuckle, the sound strangely dark compared to the light voice he had, and you heard him come closer to you.

“It must be lonely to be in here, no one by your side. How about we become friends?’’

“Hoseok, what are you doing here?’’ you heard another voice break out in your silence. This voice was richer than the Reverend’s voice, a deeper timber that sent unsettling shivers down your spin. While Reverend sounded like warmth, this voice sounded like a chill.

You did not make a peep to answer his question nor a move to look at the second intruder. Instead, you silently got up and bowed respectfully towards the Reverend and his counterpart before you swiftly left the chapel.

~

Your dreams were plagued that night. Soft hushes of low moans brushed your ears, and you felt hands curve around your breasts and brush the place that the sisters had warned you to never touch with impure intentions. Your fingers wrapped tightly around the sheets, a haze in your mind as you panted out hopeless cries to be touched, to be fucked. Your back arched as you felt a tongue swipe at your pussy, lapping up juices as you twitched in lustful agony, and your lips, stretched out in moans, was covered by another mouth.

“Give in, (y/n). We’ll take care of you,” a voice purred into your ear, gentle and sweet and God you were melting.

You woke up in a cold sweat, shivering, and you startingly realized that your fingers had been buried deep within your forbidden heat. You pulled them out, shame flickering against the heat deep in your stomach, and they made a soft schlick sound. You frantically wiped them against your sheets and tried to go back to sleep, but the heat of lust never seemed to cool.

~

You were disoriented when you woke up for morning prayers. You felt something sticky stain against your inner thighs, and your mind was in a haze. Every touch from another human being left sparks that seemed to build the heat of desire within you, and it wasn’t until you were back in the chapel in the middle of the night that you dared to let out a breath.

You kneeled in front of the statue, ready to pray once more, but your hands slipped from their position and slid down until they were pulling up your skirts. Your body didn’t feel like it was yours anymore, and you were slipping one and then two fingers and then three. Your eyes burned in shame, but your body didn’t care. It begged to be touched, and the plea seemed to grow even more insistently when you couldn’t get relief.

“Ah, what a whore you are.’’

Your head spun around to look at the intruder. Instead of feeling ashamed and pulling your fingers out to restore some kind of dignity, you could only spread your legs wider, whimpering for relief.

“Yoongi, I suppose it is part of our fault that she’s been dragged to such a state. Why don’t we help her?’’

Your vision was blurry, but you felt a cooling touch on your feverish body and grabbed at it desperately, trying to press it down to where it was the most hot. You heard a low chuckle, and you only grew more desperate.

Your memories spun together, your thoughts dizzy, and before you knew it, your skirts were ripped off, and you were on someone’s lap with their cock so deep in you that you could only press closer.

“Yoongi, isn’t she so pretty?’’ you heard a voice call out, and a part of you that was still rational realized it was the Reverend.

The man underneath you laughed, the sound rich, and you let out a muffled cry when he pulled you up off his cock and slammed you back down onto it. He was pounding you, and the Reverend behind you was nipping brutally at your neck and leaving bruises on your flesh.

“Hey, hey, recite your prayers for us, won’t you? Pretty little angel, why don’t you—,” you heard a grunt that choked the remaining words,” Why don’t you—fuck she feels so good—why don’t you recite them?’’

Your brain was automatic; you had no more control over it. You could only obey the commands of the two men that you had once perceived to be holy men.

“For the s-strength to—ah...! Resist tempt-tempt…temptation!’’ you cried out as one particular thrust pried open your walls and pressed against your cervix,” And for…for purity nngh! So that I…So that I may live…oh my God, please, please, harder! L-live free from…sin!’’

He was spilling his cum within you, filling up your womb, and you could only twitch as he let out a husky moan. When he finished cumming deep in you, you let out a breath of relief as the heat within you cooled down, but just a few seconds later, it was coming back, and the Reverend was pulling you off the man’s cock. You let out a startled cry between clenched teeth as you were spread back open on another cock.

“Please, please! Ooh, it feels so good…,’’ you were drooling now, looking ever much like the whores that the sister had disdainfully warned you not to become.

You met eyes with the statue of the Virgin mother as you were being bounced on the Reverend’s cock and, just like Eve, fell into the temptation of freedom.

~

It had been years since your disappearance from the convent. Another girl pried open the door of the abandoned chapel and carefully walked in, her footsteps sending clouds of dust in the air. She scanned the chapel building, and her mouth fell open in surprise as it lingered on the stained-glass window that strangely seemed new.

The stained-glass window had a depiction of a young maiden, just like her, with a snake coiled around her neck and a white dove perched on her wrist. Her hands were raised up, an apple the color of blood gingerly clasped in her hand with a bite taken out of it.

Marked on the glass were the words of a prayer:

“For the strength to resist temptation, and for purity so that I may live clean of sin. Blessed mother, look upon me and guide me.”

And as the girl finished reading the words, the door clicked open.

[jilljoycearts]

About the situation with the previously mentioned reposter, reposts in general, and the fandom. This is mostly about the russian part of the internet, the dark and fearsome place.

This post is very long, so I’m hiding it under the cut.

To sum it all up:

If you see drawings (fanarts) for the game Enderal and for the rest of the SureAI games on the russian social VK, published not by the authors of the drawings or not by their art groups, pages and communities, then they are placed against the will of these very authors.

About the rhetorics (mostly for the Russians that stumble upon this post): what people on VK call repost (share button) is an actual reblogging or retweet. In fact, a repost is re-uploading something not by its owner. Now let's start. The retelling is quite detailed. Also, a warning: although I can retell this whole thing in english from scratch, the post is translated from russian with the help of almighty google. I don't want to bother much with this and spend my energy on it. Most of the mistakes I still fix, but the sentence structure and phrasing might seem weird.

The man (hereinafter "character T"; we do not mention his name because he is only interested in your attention to his person) took under his wing a long-abandoned community (Enderal themed), asking to be a moderator. For several months he was posting stolen drawings (without permission and credits), until his vanity drove him into a trap: with a request of "reblog for reblog" (wanted to promote his own fan-creation) he messaged a small russian community of artists interested in the SureAI games. Naturally, seeing his reposting activities, everyone was utterly indignant. He was incredibly lucky that my drawing was the last one published on the dash of his community. Again, no credit. I left a comment urging him to remove the stolen things and explaining the common truths. To which no one answered, but suddenly a link to my tumblr appeared. I wrote another comment telling to delete again, and again no one answered me. When he had to start talking to me, Character T decided that it was a good idea to load a girl (who was so lucky to know both of us a bit) with the work of a negotiator. I leave it to you to judge the "honor and dignity" of this character and his decision. I scroll forward: he agrees to delete my work, while rolling out a post consisting of articles of the civil code, in which he puts the meaning “I reposted, am reposting and will continue that, because the law allows me”. At the same time, the negotiator girl gets tired of working as his secretary. I already intend to contact him personally, but I find myself in his blacklist. It would seem, "Well, calm down, hedeleted yours." But his intention to repost further stunned everyone. Naturally, the time has come to inform the foreign authors about this chronic stealing.

A new location was unlocked in our amusing adventure: a server of the game developers SureAI on Discord. There, one of the artists from whom he stole called him out, without mentioning the names (yes, the character T was active there, whilst annoying the local inhabitants). He responded after a while, again rolling out his cart of articles on the legality of reposts. He also managed to threaten me personally with something. In general, he was kicked from the server of the developers for lack of culture and propaganda of copyright infringement. Further, another foreign author tried to contact him personally, but in the same way received a cart of laws. In the meantime, the English-speaking part of the fandom artists decided to write an official letter of complaint, attaching all links to posts to be deleted, and listing the authors with whose content the character T is strictly prohibited from interacting in the future. This letter was tried to be sent by a German artist, who specially registered there, but she stumbled upon some tech difficulties. Firstly, she was blocked by the owner of the stealing community, where the character T was appointed as the moderator. Her page was empty, the name was not Russian - he thought it was a bot, I can understand that. She then dropped the complaint letter to the support of VK social itself. Even tried to message the stealing community specifically but another lag made it impossible. (and this was required according to the new "rules" of the character T, according to which it was decided to play. "So that your complaint was considered ..." and so on.)...

Sensing something is wrong, character T made an attempt to contact some Russian-speaking authors himself in the meantime. And they told him the same -- that he steals, and not “shares” for some “purpose”. And here comes an interesting thing: the phrases "well, something needs to be posted to fill the community" and "but I am not on their Facebooks, I found it on Yandex"(that's russian google). That is, our drawings turned out to be just a filler, because something needs to be posted. Searching by image is difficult, but he still has to post! Something. Anything. What for? I have an explanation and an answer to this, but since this is the purpose of the character T - to draw attention to his fan-creation, I will not mention it 👌🏻 Another of his phrases was that due to the increased attention to his community now he HAS to credit the authors 🤦🏻‍♀. In general, he banned the Russian-speaking artist, whom he contacted and received a well-scented bucket’s content on his head (and well-deserved of course).

Now let's return to the official letter of complaint from foreign artists, which never reached the stealing community, and after all it was sent by the Russian-speaking author L. This time the character T was able to read it, but as expected, he refused to remove reposts, said that the artists were arrogant, accused of gatekeeping and again expressed his intention to repost not only without permission, but also against the will of all these fandom authors (38 people). After all, he has a great goal - to popularize games and the universe in the ru-segment.

The same or the next day the owner of the stealing community contacted me (who had previously lost interest, abandoned it, and a year later gave it to the character T). The owner asked what was happening, I explained, and passed on the letter of complaint from foreign artists, which the German artist could not send because he blocked her. That I explained to him too and he unblocked her. No reaction to my explanations abot the character T followed, but we’ll come back to that later.

And now we decided it’s time for our last resort -- we contacted Nicolas (the main screenwriter, the owner of the rights to this universe and the main figure of the fandom as a whole). Here I will digress from the main line and note that interested people have dug out both the provisions of the Berne Convention and the laws of the Russian Federation, which the character T chose to ignore in his activities, hiding behind only those that are convenient for him. Now let's return to Nicolas, who had to take a break from vacation because of this circus. As it turned out, character T, sensing the smoke, came running to him first. But alas, Nicolas was on the side of the authors (who would have thought). As a result, we almost decided that hurray, it helped, because posts with pictures disappeared from the wall of the stealing community, and character T even disappeared from the list of moderators (I will return to the stage with the owner of the community: I assume it was his work). But it was clear that it was too early to celebrate the victory.

Change of location: again the server of the developers on Discord. After the kick of the character T, three days later, a brand-new account appears, which broadcasts about the character T in the third person using Google translate “ if he had not been pressed upon, he would repost peacefully in his community of a thousand subscribers. And now he will attract some audience of a dozen more groups and will repost there too”. Naturally, without direct evidence of the second coming, no one have kicked him yet.

On the same day, the VK support told me that the most effective weapon in our case is the DMCA form. This is inconvenient, but it works. Moreover, the stolen has already been removed from the stealing community.

Then people came across the news - the stealing community advertised a new community of the character T, which was shaped exclusively for reposting other people's drawings (and there were already several works, including mine). The adv post called to support the character T “and his work”. Naturally, in the comments, I and other people urged not to support this. We even managed to explain the situation to some random person. After that the post was deleted. We don't know who deleted the post (still the character T or the community owner).

At this point, I ask Nicolas to message the tharacter T again using the simplest words that reposts cannot be allowed without permission. At all. Even with links attached. Doesn't help because the main now-not-stealing community shares a new post of the new one stealing community again. That is, even the main copyright holder and owner of the entire thing is not a figure of authority for the character T. Summing up -- “I will “popularize” your fandom against your wishes. The laws allow me. "

But after a while, the reblog from the new community is removed from the main one.

And again, the change of location: to the discord of the developers, where the character T himself comes back and writes something (under the new name ofc as his old account is banned). He declares that he will now repost to some huge audience of 300k people (before that there were 200, and even before that 100, yeah), he is outraged by the complaint letter from the authors with the ban on reposting, he will deliberately not credit, and also he wants to reupload my fanfiction somewhere. After that, he was kicked again 🥾.

Naturally, the entire audience is shocked, the character T literally became famous and crowned himself with a clown wig in just a few days, and now the entire fandom and the informed ru-segment hates him. The retelling is over.

Almost. Now I thank google translate for the help above and I'm gonna retell even more without it as this information is rather new. He wrote his own “explanation post”, where he somehow found relevant addressing the sexuality of one of the authors who called him out, called Nico indifferent and passive regarding this situation, insulted literally everyone but him, the white knight, whom we all should be grateful to for his will of promoting our content. I facepalm very hard. And he reposts art to some small communities but no one gives a shit (surprisingly so, huh?). He adds the links to the authors. Now I don’t want to give him any attention anymore, I have some work to get done.

Here comes the part about the and for community itself (google translate helps me again):

For the artists:

For the people registered in VK there is a "Nemesis" algorithm (dropdown - report - copied content). It will want a link to the previously published content on the VK as a primary source. Its effectiveness is still in question, but if someone tried it, then share your experience. For the rest, there is a dmca form that wants passport data (the only one I know of that asks for it), which I personally do not want to share, but in general... It's up to you to decide. Advice: Include readable text with @ of your page, community or yourself in your watermarks. Thus, an adequate person will always see where to go for the primary source.

For the readers/viewers:

Fandom existence is based on respect for other people's work. This work is the reason fandoms exist. If you like the drawing, then praise the author, support them in accessible ways (like - comment - subscribe - send a link to a friend(reblog the thing) - give some moneyz). People will be pleased, honestly. And if you disagree with something or you go "Ew" for other reasons, then just walk by. This is, in fact, all that you can do. If you have ambitions, ideas and “I need to fill my dead community with something” (you are considering taking the author's drawing and placing it somewhere yourself), then you ask for permission and accept any answer. There is no other way. Otherwise it's a violation of the law. 

Why reposts (= re-uploads) are harmful I think there's no need to mention, but still:

First of all, it drives away traffic from the authors. It doesn't matter if fanart can be monetized or not (spoiler alert: it can). Example: If a figurative reposter hadn't taken away figurative content, then a potential viewer interested in this content would go to search for it himself. And would have found it posted by the author. And then it is already possible to take a closer look at the other work as a whole, and even give the author money so that they draw something personalized for this viewer personally. That’s an example. It seems to be clear. Artists on the Internet care about their traffic, which is responsible for audience growth and all subsequent opportunities. This is the basics.

About monetizing fan content.

It depends solely on the developers / authors of games and books (original owners of all rights). Sometimes the ban on monetization hangs for some time after the release of the game (as was the case with Hades), sometimes you can sell keychains / posters / whatever with fanarts on them right away. And sometimes you can't, everything is individual here. Again, I think it is clear that if a viewer finds the original image posted by the author themselves, then this viewer has more chances to buy merch with this image. After all, the author will definitely add that the drawing is available as a merch. Reposter -- never. He does not know that, he found it on Yandex/Google.

Specifically about me and my community:

You know that my main audience are not russians. I have already abandoned my russian community once. Would I want to disappear from there again? So far, there is no such desire. People I have there are nice and friendly, despite the small number. How much do I really care about reposts of drawings on an objectively dying or already dead fandom? I'll leave it to you to decide. I have been here since the 2016-17, with me the fan activity started, and with me it will end. Everyone who is interested in SureAI games knows me. And although I have the permission from the devs to monetize fanart and fan content in general, it is obvious that $20 from posters and magnets every few months is not my motivation. I am here because I love the game universe and its characters. I make my own thing, quietly rejoicing, and I don't look around much. Reposts are evil on a different level, and not on this one. Does T's intention of re-uploading my fanfiction or even rewriting it somehow thrills me? I don’t care at all. Let him read a well edited and thought-through text for once. But I doubt it will help a little.

In general:

My subscribers / readers / followers know where to look for my updates. A thinking person that sees a repost will go and find the author themselves. Be it pictures that they see, text or something else. Those people who don't think are obviously not interesting for me as an audience. Other authors share this position.

Finally, end of this text. It has taken me 4 hours to write this all in russian, maybe another one to edit the google output and add more things AND almost one week of my time to deal with this all (and don’t forget other authors involved, they spent a shitload of time on it too). From now on my position is “time is money” and if the character T resurfaces he’ll have to pay me for the attention he seeks, lol 

[nomattertheoceans]

GIF REQUEST MEME: Favorite season from The 100 - Season four

I love season four for a lot of reasons!! I think it’s the best season of the show and it should have been their last (despite my love for most of s5 ^^) I’m gonna ramble a lot but I don’t want it to take over the gifset so I’ll put it under a cut

Season four is the time of hard, impossible choices for everybody. The bomb at Farm Station, the List, the Nightblood tests, opening the bunker, the anti-radiation medicine…. Everybody is put through the ringer during this season and honestly, this is what I’m here for.

First great point for me personally: They can’t stop the radiations. When season 3 ended with the reveal of the radiations coming, I was legit disappointed with the show, I didn’t want them to spend the season “turning off” radiations miraculously, you know. So when ep 2 of the season aired and the first thing Raven said was “there’s no magic button to stop this” I WAS SO HAPPY!! It immediately got me much more hyped for the rest of the season because I was invested in “riding out 5 years of hell” much more than “let’s find a magic button”. So the season hooked me then ^^

The season is really good at re-using previous themes and twist them in just the right way

Clarke, who was so angry at the council for killing her dad, finds herself in the council’s position, and starts to understand that making such hard decisions is never easy. Making the list for instance, is so different from what she had to do before. The genocide of Mt Weather was an act of despair in the middle of a war, but making the list is a process, she has to truly chose who is “worth” more, which is what the council did when they sent the 100 to the Ground. She choses to hide the truth from everybody despite it going against what she wanted at the start of the show. It’s a really cool change for her character.

The Arkers and Grounders take the decision to test the Nightblood against Luna, the Rock Line thief, and Emori’s will. An obvious reminder of s2 but that I appreciate. I liked the Mt Weather story because of this: the mountain men were the antagonists but they also were the same as the rest of the show, they were doing whatever they had to do to survive, whatever it took, no matter how cruel it could be. We see in this season that when faced with the same decision, our protagonists reach the same result: sacrificing other people’s bodily autonomy to survive is worth it to them. It’s a really interesting theme to bring back because it muddies the waters of who’s right and wrong, and it highlights that in the end, there is no black and white answer.

This season gives us my personal favorite version of Clarke: she’s the closest she’ll get to a true antagonist (only comparable to s5 but s5 is a little bit of a mess so I still prefer her in s4). She has one conviction: saving her people. And to get it, she is ready to lie, to cheat, to kill, whatever it takes. It is interesting because I always saw Clarke in that light. She always believes that she has the right idea and she will do what it takes to get what she thinks is best. That’s where she is interesting to me (I’m not interested in her being an innocent victim forced to take decisions, that’s not how I see her at all and I find her a little dull in that interpretation haha but that’s for another post). Clarke stealing the bunker is a cruel act, but man, it’s incredibly smart. At that moment she knows she’s condeming many people (some of whom very close to her) to death, but she believes deep inside her that it’s the right thing to do so she’s willing to do it. And i really prefer her in those ruthless moments.

Octavia’s arc this season isn’t my favorite, but she is at her best during the last few episodes for me. The creation of Wonkru is one of my favorite scenes of the entire show, even though I saw it coming a mile away lmao (1200 spaces, 12 clans, it was easy to see where they were going!). I love the scene, I love the place it comes from (Octavia channeling Lincoln’s convictions was brilliant). I might not agree with her decisions (skaikru definitely deserved more spots than the other clans), but it makes perfect sense for her character to make this decision. The scene of her talking to Skaikru and telling them they’re no different from the others, and they have to choose or they all die, is also one of my favorites. Octavia received no mercy on the Ark, she had a terribly tragic childhood because of those people who are now begging her for their lives, and she doesn’t budge. The Ark, and the Ground, forced her to be that way, and she doesn’t back away. It’s also all a brilliant introduction to what Wonkru and Octavia will become in s5 (but again, that’s for another post lmao)

I love that we get the introduction of Spacekru because I love their little found family and the scene where they reach the Ring is so good!

Murphy’s speech to Clarke makes me tear up everytime I see it (it really was one of the strongest moments of acting of the entire show, Richard Harmon is amazing in it). Emori also blows me away in the previous episode, the way she’s shown to be ruthless, and cunning, and also how well she reads people. She knew they would come to test someone, and she did everything she had to for that someone to not be her. I love her ^^

I like the plot of the second dawn bunker well enough! (although I will never change my mind that Cadogan was a dumbass for putting it where it is instead of IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FOREST WHERE THERE’S NO RISK OF BUILDINGS FALLING ON IT LIKE WHAT LITERALLY HAPPENED IN S5 OKAY anyway…..), it’s far from perfect but I like that it explains the people coming to greet Becca in s3, and I like that we expand a little on the origins of the Grounders culture (even though I wanted more about this). It’s kind of an “easy” solution, but at the same time it’s not. It was established early in the season before being abandoned, and even once it’s found, it’s not at all a perfect and easy solution. They have to fight for it, decide who lives there, it’s a pretty interesting development. What I mean is that it’s not discovered one episode before the end and it doesn’t solve everything. If anything, it creates more conflict. Which I appreciate alot.

ALSO ALSO Echo is a badass general in this season and I love it. She goes from being a spy in earlier seasons, to full-on commanding armies and being a strategic mastermind and I love it! She’s also ruthless and cunning and I lvoe that for her. It’s also such a good season for her and Bellamy!!! I lvoe all of it ^^

This season also has one of my favorite underrated quotes!!!! I’m gonna use a gif here cause I’m not at the limit yet lmao

“It’s unity day.” GODDDD it’s so good. It’s simple, but it conveys so much information and I love it:

Unity Day: the stations coming together to survive -> we’re virtually in the same situation here.

It’s a happy occasion, a day of survival and hope, just like the hope Octavia gave all the clans with her decisions

But it’s also a day of death and loss. She’s giving Kane a choice: join Wonkru with 100 members, or die in the flames.

It reminds us of the history of the Arkers, and I love when world-building does this thing where both characters are shown to have such a close cultural background that three little words are enough to convey such a strong message. It’s a detail but I love it and I wanted to ramble for a little bit ^^

Clarke’s sacrifice: This is when it gets to “meh” points for the seasons for me. Clarke deciding to stay behind to save Spacekru was a good moment. Yes, I know that if she hadn’t climbed the tower they all would have died anyway, but still. It’s a great moment for her character. She has hurt those people time and time again during this season, she was ready to let them die more than once, and I think she regrets it (although again, I like to see the extremes she’s willing to reach in this season). In that moment, she doesn’t decide that it’s too late to survive so she might as well give up. She knows she’s going to die, and she gives her last moments to save the lives of the people she hurt in the past. And I really love this. That is….. Until Clarke is revealed to not have died. I truly believe that she had reached the ending of her arc in the show, and it would have been a great ending to her character. But that’s also because I believe the show should have ended in s4 lmao. If it had ended, then maybe they could have left her death ambiguois, by showing her reaching the safety of the lab, but not showing her again afterwards. That way, we had no way of being sure she survived, but it was left ambiguous enough to make us decide her fate outselves.

The perfect ending: I didn’t choose the last gif randomly. That scene of Raven and Bellamy looking down on the Earth was in my opinion the perfect shot to end the show. At that point in time, we are left in a place that is very similar to where the show started: the Earth is destroyed by radiations, some people are waiting it out in space, some people are waiting it out on the ground. it mirrors the premise of the show (although in a much smaller scale), but this time, we’re left with hope of what might come in the future. Those two groups know (or hope) that they will reunite, especially with Octavia and Bellamy, the relationship at the core of the show, being separated. If the show ends here, we have come full circle from the pilot episode, and we can imagine how those two groups will reunite in the future. I find that ending the best possible for the show, so even though there’s so much I like about season 5, I wish the show had stopped at that moment, at that shot of Raven and Bellamy looking down on the Earth.

That got reaaaaally long, so…. sorry about that xD If you’ve reached this far, feel free to tell me what you think of this season (or the others haha) or send me asks, or request for other gifsets!!!

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Fantasy AU! Dragon Master! Katsuki Bakugou X Witch! Reader: Hot Damn, Dragon Man~!

(Description: I don’t think anyone has written a story like this before with this particular backstory, but if someone has please let me know right away! With that out of the way, this was just a fun little idea I had that I hope you all enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing! Also, I aged up both Bakugou and Kirishima in this story to around their early 20s, though this isn’t really important or relevant to the fic, an adult, hunky Bakugou and Kirishima is a treat I think we should all indulge in~! I might make a Part 2 to continue the story depending on how you all like it, but we’ll see! I hope you enjoy and thank you for your time. // PS: Quirks still exist in my version of the Fantasy AU! //)

~

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

(H/C) - Hair Color

(E/C) - Eye Color

(F/C) - Favorite Color

~

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

~

Requester: No One!

Reader Gender: Female (She/Her)

Style of Story: Aiming for a multiparter, but who knows! // Fantasy AU! Hope you’re as excited as I am!

Word Count: 6.4K Words

WARNING(s) / NOTE(s): Aged up characters but this story is NOT NSFW, Quirks still exist, cursing (it’s Bakugou in a fantasy world, he’s going to call you some offensive stuff), and a little bit of blood but no real harm is done to (Y/N)!

~

“Man, I have got to work on my cardio! Ughh…,” you huffed out as you took the last few steps to be on top of the hill you had just hiked up. Stopping for the air you desperately needed, you sat down on the mossy ground below and leaned against a nearby tree, taking deep breaths. As your previously foggy brain became clear again, you noticed the purples and pinks of the dawning sky peaking through the tree’s leaves and smiled, springtime weather had always been your favorite kind. The dewy mornings, sunny afternoons, and clear nights were always a welcome change to the drab winter days. Though, being a Green Witch did make you favor specific seasons more than others.

“Sorry, my lord Hades, but I must admit that I’m a little happy your lovely wife is back with her mother again. Nothing can compare to the plants and herbs that grow back in the Spring. Though, do not fret, my lady Persephone will be back with you sooner than you think.” you spoke to the stillness of the forest, but you felt their presence and knew your gods heard your message.

Looking in your wooden basket, you inventoried the goods you had collected near your secret cove to harvest ingredients. You found the cove three summer’s ago while looking for shelter from a storm that rolled in quicker than expected. You were lost and couldn’t find your way home but the kind nymphs that lived in the area offered you a place to stay that night. In exchange for them sheltering you, you made them a few miscellaneous potions as payment (even though they hadn’t asked for any). Ever since that day, you have been friends with them and are allowed to freely take any of the resources that grow in the area with their permission and in turn you trade them any potions or spells they ask for. Of course you’ve found other places to harvest rarer ingredients for specific creations, but with such a bountiful place so close to your home it is your go-to spot.

“Wicker mushrooms, a bunch of Lavender, Yarrow, Thrumdells, could always use more mint sprigs, Merryquil, Heron’s feathers, I have the mermaid’s bubbles and crystals at home...I think that’ll about do it! Great haul today, (N/N)!” you praised as you set down your basket and stood up. You brushed off your flowy, (F/C) ankle-length skirt and smoothed out your poofy shirt and cloak, straightened the potion holder belt strapped to your hip, picked the basket back up, and continued on the path back to your cottage hidden deep within the forest.

“What should I make for dinner? Zeks enjoys sweet things but I don’t know if Zazel--!” Without warning, a booming roar shook the leaves off the trees, causing you to stumble back in shock. You shot your hand on the dagger strapped to your belt while your eyes darted back and forth through the surrounding terrain, trying to locate where the sound had come from and if there was any immediate danger near you. Shortly after the cry, a loud crash sounded like something smacked the ground hard and caused a tremor that knocked you clean off your feet with a yelp. The shaking lasted for only a moment before everything went still once more as if nothing out of the ordinary had even occurred.

Still in shock from the bizarre situation, you sat on the grass for a little longer, listening to the oddly quiet atmosphere, before another cry shot through the hush of the land and nearly scared you out of your boots. Though, instead of what you thought was ferocity in its tone, it seemed closer to a wail of pain than anything. You stood on shaky legs and took deep breaths while staring into the distance where the noise came from. You wanted to turn around and run to the safety of your home, to go back to the warmth of your cottage and just pretend that this whole instance never happened, but something was pulling you towards the creature. Maybe it was the whines and whimpers that it made, the curiosity caused by something that could make lands quake with the strength of its voice but instantly become like a meek puppy was truly intriguing, but that wasn’t quite it. Maybe you wanted to check if anyone had been hurt by the monstrosity but that didn’t seem right either.

You let out a quiet gasp as one thought in particular struck your mind...could it be...Fate? You cursed yourself, wishing you had brought your tarot cards to check for any possible signs, but you didn’t have time for that right now. You considered your options; be a coward and leave whatever the hell just fell out of the sky alone, abandoning it to most likely die, ignoring the call of Fate, and continuing about your day or appeasing that pesky gut feeling, finding the beast, and seeing what was the matter.

You growled as your legs began to move toward the epicenter of the sound, hating how you can never turn down someone in need of help.

~

~ Timeskip to a short while later ~

~

“Where in the fresh hell is that stupid beast?!” you cursed as you trudged through the spongy moss and bushes covering the forest floor. After running for a bit in the direction you had thought you heard the wail come from you had found no evidence of anything out of the ordinary which pissed you off to no end.

“You couldn’t shut your trap earlier, why are you having such a hard time now?” you mumbled to yourself, pushing past a few bushes in your way. Your next few sassy words became caught in your throat as you heard a low growl erupt a few yards away from you behind the bush directly to the right of you. Suppressing your urge to scream in surprise, you composed yourself and poked your head through the shrubbery, only for your jaw to drop at the sight before you.

An enormous creature was laying on its side in the middle of a small clearing of trees, peacefully sleeping in the early morning sunshine. Its horned head and long neck were stretched out while the rest of its body curled around itself in a cocoon like position. The beast took steady breaths, its lungs filling up and stretching its stomach to show off the breath-taking, fiery red scales that coated its entire body. The tail lay still wrapped around the body and reminded you fondly of a litter of kittens your old master cared for. But probably the most beautiful part of all were the magnificent wings that draped over the serpent’s body like a protective barrier from the outside world. You saw the muscles of the appendages and knew that this creature was not one to be messed with. Right there, such a short distance away, was what you could only describe as a humongous, red dragon!

You couldn’t believe it, you almost wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were really awake but you ignored the feeling in favor of watching the sleeping beast in awe. Sure, everyone around knew that dragons existed and heard the legends about them, but it wasn’t like you got to see them very often. The kingdom to the South was well known for its coexistence with dragons but rarely anyone except those in a higher position of power or people who lived in the tribes actually got to see and interact with them.

Judging by the diagrams you had seen drawn of dragons, you guessed that it wasn’t extremely old based on its size and bodily markings, making it less of a threat. As you examined more it led you to notice the reason for the creature’s moans of pain. A huge gash was carved on the right side of the dragon’s chest, dripping with fresh blood. It was so deep that you could actually see bits of the beast’s rib cage. Wincing at the sight, you inspected further and saw the scales surrounding the wound were a contrasting dark black to the shiny red ones all over the body, almost like they had been scorched by a tremendous flame. Either way, if the serpent did not receive some kind of immediate help with that large of a wound, it would surely bleed out within the next few hours or somehow be injured even more. After contemplating, you sent a quick prayer, took a deep breath, and shuffled your way out of the bushes and into the open for the creature to easily see you.

You expected that such a powerful beast in this state of physical distress would not let its guard down so easily, so when its golden eyes shot open to glare at you with its teeth bared in snarl you were not in the least bit startled. You smiled sweetly at the dragon, lowered yourself closer to the ground, set your things down, and averted your gaze as to not cause it anymore stress or let it think you were challenging it. You kept your hand visible as you reached for the knife on your waist, even as the beast hissed at your movements, and threw it far away from your reach to show respect.

“Hey there! I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to help,” you spoke loud and clear so it could hear you, but even if it didn’t understand your language you still wanted to get your point across, “I heard you fall awhile ago, that must have hurt, huh? I came to check up on you, see if you were okay, but then I happened to notice that nasty gash in your side and figured you needed my help!” you gulped with the smile still on your face. You heard another growl before it was cut off by a sharp whimper of agony and that noise alone made your heart drop to your stomach. The smile on your face faded into a frown but you quickly perked back up and continued.

“I promise, I just want to check out that wound and get you healed up. Help you get back in the air again. Please, I don’t want to have to leave you to suffer like this.” you finished as you looked back at the dragon with a desperate look in your eye. The dragon wasn’t snarling or glaring at you anymore, which was definitely a good sign, but as you looked deeper in its eyes it was almost like you could feel the pain radiating off of it. After a brief moment of hesitation, the beast lowered its head back down to the ground in defeat, a sign for you to come closer. You gratefully smiled and picked your things back up, got up, and scurried on over.

When you got close enough to where you could press your palm flat to the warm scales and feel its strong heartbeat, you kneeled and examined the bloodied gash. You first ran your fingers along the outskirts of the wound and the dark marks smudged onto your fingertips and palm, confirming that the dragon had been severely burned by something or someone. The actual slash was about five feet long and two feet wide that dug deep into the body, like something had pierced it rather than just nicked it. You looked closer at the blood dripping from the injury and noticed pine needles stuck in the dragon’s flesh, not just on the surface but deep in the wound as well.

You gasped and looked up at the beast who was already gazing down at it with you to ask, “Did you hit a tree during the fall?” The serpent nodded its head with discomfort and flopped it back down onto the soft grass. A pitiful sigh slipped from your mouth as you explained what you were going to do now knowing it could understand you.

“Okay, first off we need to get these pesky pine needles out of the wound. Then, I need to slow the bleeding and somehow dress it. I do have the right ingredients on me to make you a healing cream but I do not know how I can…,” you stopped and glanced at the cloak draped from your shoulders and smiled, “I know! I’ll use my cloak to soak up the blood!” The dragon shot its head up in alarm and looked at you with a gaze of what seemed to be guilt. You tilted your head in confusion before looking at the cloak now in your hand, back to the saddened serpent, and connected the two together with a laugh.

“Oh, are you worried about dirtying this old thing? Pssh, don’t even concern yourself! It's to help you survive, so it's being used for the greater good either way! Between you and me, I was planning on treating myself to a new one anyways, so who cares if a little blood gets on it!” you joked, trying to calm the dragon’s nerves. You washed your hands with the clean water from your canteen strapped to your hip and shook them dry.

“Let’s do this!” you cheered, readying yourself for the crazy afternoon ahead of you.

~

~ Another timeskip to later in the afternoon ~

~

“I must say, you are certainly one of the best patients I’ve ever had, my scaly friend! You’ve been so good letting me take out all those nasty needles and clean away the charcoal and blood from your pretty scales! Thank you for being so sweet.” you praised, scratching the dragon’s chin, behind his horns, and belly as he let out happy grumbles and chitters (Dragon Kiri LOVES belly scritches, and you cannot convince me otherwise) at your kind words. His head was now curled up next to you, watching you clean and disinfect his wound with the utmost care, with him enjoying the pets he got every time you hit a sensitive area or made him hiss from the pain.

You were diligently working at patting away the blood with your now sopping cloak, trying to cease the liquid dripping out of the dragon. As you worked, you made sure to give the creature lots of encouraging strokes and belly rubs to help ease the pain, but whether it was more to help it through this endeavor or to get to pet a living dragon was uncertain. Either way, the job was getting done, and so far no big issues from either party.

Yet.

“Awesome! It looks like the blood flow has slowed down a lot now. Thank the Gods, I don’t know how much more my poor coat could have taken,” you joked while setting the crimson-soaked material to the side, “Now, I’ve got the healing cream prepared for you but how the hell am I going to bandage--AH!” you shrieked as you were suddenly shoved away from the dragon and thrown further back into the field.

You heard the beast let out a concerned roar as your back met the dirt ground with a loud THUD that knocked the wind right out of your lungs. You closed your eyes in pain and gasped, desperate to get the lost air back in your system, but you were stopped as you felt a heavy weight slam on your chest, a hand grab your wrists and pin your arms to the ground above your head, and someone lean over you to block out the sun. Even though your head was spinning with confusion and adrenaline ran a marathon through your veins, your eyes shot open when you felt something sharp press into your neck.

“What the hell are you doing to my dragon, fucking maggot?!” the man on top of you yelled in your face, but you could hardly comprehend his words due to the abruptness of the situation. You wish you could say that you hated him from the moment your eyes landed on him, you wished you could have ignored the way your gut did cartwheels as if the Fate of a lifetime had been completed, but god was everything hard to ignore when he looked so fucking hot. His blonde, spiky hair exploded messily around his chiseled face to give him that ‘I didn’t even try to look good today’ natural beauty. From his striking jawline, cute button nose, strong neck, and those striking crimson eyes, he was just insanely good looking. Even as he glared at you with his eyebrows pulled down in a scowl, you couldn’t help but blush at the intense way he looked at you. Not even mentioning what you could see of his bare torso that was every bodybuilders’ dream, you inferred that he was around the middle of his twenties. His attire was composed of a few pieces of jewelry, colorful arm bands, a blood red cape completed with a fur-lined neck piece, and other things you couldn’t quite see from your position under his knee pressing hard onto your sternum. That pain was actually what brought you back from “(Y/N)’s Hot Guy Dreamland” to realize admiring his looks wasn’t exactly the main issue right now. To be honest, he’d be even more hot if he wasn't pressing that sharp scimitar threateningly to your neck, but sadly even that was sexy.

“I...I...well--,” you stuttered in shock, looking for the right words to spit out to appease the barbarian on top of you.

“EH? Out with it, whelp,” he growled, pressing his knee even harder into your chest to get his point across, “What were you doing to my dragon, dimwit?! Did you try to hurt him?”

“What? No, never!” you defended yourself while weakly struggling to free your arms from his vice grip.

“Did you plan to kill him and skin him for his hide! You sadistic monster!” he roared, pressing the blade closer to your neck, causing your skin to break and bleed. You yelped when you felt the burn of the slice but swore you could smell the scent of burning caramel drifting off of his body that hadn’t been there before.

“I would do no such thing, you creep! I was just--,” you were interrupted yet again by your own whimper as he leaned closer to your face. His frown deepened as you felt the blade press even further into your delicate flesh.

“You know what? I don’t even wanna hear your shitty ass excuses, I might just kill you right now and be done with you,” he smirked as your face significantly paled, “Unless you did something to my partner, then you’re gonna explain what you did, fix it, and then I can take my time slicing--,” the madman was cut off as another voice cut into the conversation.

“Bakugou, stop hurting her!” a masculine voice bellowed from a distance away. The sound of steam expelling filled the tense air as a hot gust of wind swiftly blew over the two of you. Shortly after you felt the man, who you now know his name is ‘Bakugou’, unlatch his grip on your hands and draw his sword away from you neck. You let out a sigh of relief and gawked as he completely abandoned from practically sitting on your chest to sprinting in the direction he had pushed you away from.

“Kirishima!” Bakugou shouted as he ran head first into the warm fog the steam had created. You sat up from the ground and pressed a hand to your neck to stop the light bleeding as deep gasps filled your lungs to contemplate what in the fresh fuck just happened in the time span of maybe a minute. You heard mumbling from the fog and, being the ever curious (N/N), decided to get up on wobbly feet and trek into the steam after the brute of a man.

“This is not how I planned to spend my Wednesday.” you murmured to yourself, walking blindly forward in the mist until you found your assaulter and your lizard patient except...not? No, instead of your new found scaly friend, you saw a red-headed man with horns and scales peppering his body leaning against the bully, Bakugou. His hair was spiked up to incredible heights and it blended seamlessly with his red curly horns hidden within. His face was scrunched up in pain but he still held a brave face as he grinned with teeth that were fit for a dragon. He, too, was around the same age as the blonde, and shirtless with the same body sculpted by the gods themselves, but on the right side of his torso was the same gash your dragon friend had. If the smaller, but still powerful, human sized wings on his back and thick scaly tail weren’t enough to convince you, then the wound confirmed that this indeed was the red dragon from before, now known as Kirishima. And, thankfully, he was nearly fully clothed too.

“Kirishima, don’t be an idiot, de-transform and get some rest, dammit.” Bakugou grunted at the man, causing the spikey haired fellow to laugh.

“Aw, I thought we weren’t partners, Bakugou! Now here you are, caring about some lowly warrior? You flatter me!” Kirishima joked as he coughed into his gloved hand while trying to sit up properly but utterly failing.

“Stupid! Just because I don’t want you to be fucking idiotic and die doesn’t mean we're partners!” he barked, his teeth growing sharper like he himself was a beast. Kirishima chortled and looked over to you. When he noticed your dropped jaw and wide eyes he coughed and looked you in the eye.

“What’s up, dudette? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” he joked.

“I...what...the HELL?! What even...I don’t understand…,” you paced in circles before looking at the two with (E/C) eyes full of confusion, “Who and what the heck are you two?!” Bakugou looks taken aback so he growls, reaching for his sword again, but Kirishima slaps his hand away from the weapon with a grin.

“I’m so sorry for not introducing myself to you earlier, I was in a lot of pain and plus I didn’t know you that well, so I hope there’s no hard feelings,” he smiled while pointing his thumb to himself, “I’m Eijirou Kirishima! And that is my friend, Katsuki Bakugou!”

“You lizard brain! Don’t just give random strangers our names!” Bakugou bared his teeth but Kirishima chose to ignore him.

“I never caught your name before, what was it?” he asked with a sweet head tilt that reminded you of a concerned puppy.

Suppressing the way your heart clenched at the adorable sight, you stopped nervously pacing and spoke, “My name is (Y/N) (L/N), it’s nice to meet you.”

“Such a manly name! It’s nice to meet you too! Hey, I just wanted to thank you for all the help you provided me today. It’s totally not manly of me to ask for that much assistance, but even I knew that I needed it then more than ever! Who knew the perfect person for the job was just an acre away! Ha!” Kirishima laughed as he struggled to stand but fell back down again onto his tail with a groan of distress.

Bakugou had only barely caught him before you rushed over and kneeled down to check his tender wound. Kirishima flinched and flushed red at your fingers traced along his bare abdomen but you were too worried to care. Bakugou openly glared at the way Kirishima blushed at you, but stopped himself short when he realized what he was doing. Why did he do that? He had only just met you, you were a fucking nobody in his eyes! You hurt his friend! Who you choose touch and don't touch wasn’t his problem! Then again, he glanced at your concerned face and noticed the way your soft features shown in the light, how your (H/C) hair framed you like an elegant oil painting in a museum, how your eyes glistened with the rays of sun, how your lips moved with each word spoken. He blushed at that last thought and shook his head. What the fuck? No, he was too great to be dragged down by silly puppy love! But...you did seem nice and strong too...Wait, no! He looked away from the two of you and tried to compose himself as you and the redhead spoke back and forth.

“Woah! Kirishima, what are you doing? I haven’t finished treating your injury yet! Take it easy on your body.” you scolded like you were his own mother, placing a cloth you had fished out of your pocket onto the leaking wound.

“W-Wait...you’re not done?” he stuttered out, thankful the blush on his cheeks was slowly but surely melting away.

You looked up at him in shock, “You thought I was just gonna leave you like this? No way! You still need that healing cream, stitches, and bandages to cover it up so it won’t get infected!”

Bakugou interrupted Kirishima before he could even protest, “Hold on, you weren’t hurting him?” He looked over to the bloody cloak hastily tossed on the ground and scowled at the memories of his actions a few minutes prior.

“No! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, pinhead! I’ve been healing up your dragon while you were off picking flowers in the woods to make friendship crowns! Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to finish treating him so that you two can head on your merry way and go back to wherever you popped out from, got it?” you shot at the brute, causing him to flinch at your harsh words.

“No way am I letting a weakling like you--,” cutting Bakugou off, Kirishima spoke over the next few words Katsuki said, which most likely saved him from a beating by your hands.

“Actually, he doesn’t get a say in this. I would love for you to finish, (Y/N)! Thank you again for great care!” he quickly said, shoving Bakugou a few feet away so he could lay flat on the ground. You balled up the fabric lining the bottom of your foraging basket and placed it under the dragon boy’s head so he could be more comfortable as you got to work again.

You carefully cleaned, sanitized, and tried to get Kirishima back to his peak performance and he took the pain like a champ, but Bakugou on the other hand was getting a little out of hand. He insisted that he keep a close eye on you to make sure you didn’t hurt his “not friend” in any way, shape, or form, and that was fair, but you didn’t like the fact that all he was doing was squatting next to the two of you and just...staring. Not saying anything, just scowling with those pretty eyes of his. What? Just because the man was a bit of a hard ass didn’t mean he wasn’t damn fine eye candy.

“Are you gonna sit there all day and just glare at me and my handy work or are you going to say something, Mr. Negative?” you snarked, watching from your peripheral vision as he jumped at the sudden intrusion of your voice. You smirked as Bakugou scoffed and leaned further in your line of sight to make you acknowledge him.

“Who are you?” he said with a stern tone.

You raised an eyebrow as you added more of the cream onto Kirishima’s wound, “I’ve already told you, my name is--,” Bakugou quickly hushed you.

“Not in that way, moron! I mean as in what are you? Some kind of mage or something dumb like that--,” you swiftly hit Bakugou on the shoulder for his rude remarks but before he could retaliate you flipped the question onto him.

“Don’t call people stuff like that, didn’t your mother ever teach you manners? I’ll tell you what I am after you tell me what you two are.” you countered.

“Bullshit! I’m the one asking the questions here! I ain’t saying--,”

“Bakugou and I are from a Southern Hemispheric tribe called the The Kin Born of Flame,” Kirishima explained as Bakugou’s jaw dropped, “He is actually the son of Chief Mistuki, leader of the Bakugou Clan! How cool is that? As for me I’m half dragon half human, but I’ve started to call my species Dragon Shifters.”

“Wow, not only a dragon but a Dragon Shifter too? This is incredible!” your eyes sparkled as you grinned down at Kirishima in delight.

“I know, right! If you think dragons are rare, try finding more than a dozen Shifters, we’re even harder to come by! Yeah, I’ve been Soul Bonded with Bakugou ever since we were fifteen. He may seem tough on the outside, but once you get to know him he’s really a huge softy!” he laughed as the barbarian cussed him out.

Your heart sank a little as you heard him speak so fondly of the man but the term he used confused you, so you just had to ask, “Soul Bonded? What’s that? Are you two in a romantic relationship?”

“What? Oh, no way! We’re just close buds is all,” Kirishima snickered, “I don’t think I could ever stand to be in a relationship with someone who's so hot headed! But he is still on the market and up for grabs, if you know what I mean~!” Kirishima wiggled his eyebrows at you while you blushed but played it off with a wave of your hand and a teasing giggle.

“What’s that supposed to mean, you hair-for-brains loser?!” Bakugou fumed, his hands twitching at the thought of grabbing the dragon boy’s face and blowing him to bits.

“So, what is Soul Bonding?” you redirected the conversation once again away from the agitated blonde and left him to stew in his frustration.

“Right! Soul Bonding is when a dragon and a human basically become partners, or friends, for life. Bakugou’s people have such a close relationship with my kind that every year a ceremony is held for all the unbonded individuals to try and find their other half. During this process, the human doesn’t get to choose the dragon and the dragon doesn’t get to choose the human, the feeling is sort of hard to describe but you’ll know when you’ve bonded when you see the other and think ‘They’re the only one I can ever fly with again’. Once you’re bonded, you cannot become bonded with another of the opposite species for the rest of your natural life, so if something unfortunate happens to your other half you don’t get a redo. That’s why the practice is so sacred. Some see it as romantic, others see it as a platonic engagement, so Bakugou and I have chosen the latter! Plus, I already have my eyes on a different person~,” Eijirou swooned with a flutter of his scaly wings.

Bakugou groaned, “Please spare us the two hour long declaration of love for another time, idiot. My question still stands, whelp, what are you?”

You huffed, “Well, since you asked so nicely, princess~, I’m a witch,” Kirishima and Bakugou gasped at the answer and glanced at each other nervously, but you raised your hand to stop them from jumping to conclusions, “but if you’re assuming I’m one of the evil witches that only uses black magic and practices necromancy, you’re wrong. I’m actually more of a Green Witch on steroids. I make healing and protection potions, work together with the nymphs who live down by the mountainside, open up my home all the time to the neighboring normal and mythological wildlife, encourage the growth of new, exotic kinds of plants to sprout in my backyard, and more. That is how I was able to make that cream so powerful for you and I, thanks to your guard dog, Kirishima.” you rubbed your neck where the slice had been that had long disappeared from the magical antidote and glared at Bakugou who simply grumbled and looked away in embarrassment.

“Woah, that’s amazing! I was wondering how you made it feel like it wasn’t even hurting anymore! You’re amazing.” Kirishima awed with wonder as he lightly patted the strips of bandages strapped to his side.

“Awe, thank you so much! I’m glad you’re feeling better,” you gave him a scratch behind his horns and his tail began thumping the ground like a dog as you became serious once more and turned to Bakugou, “But I have to ask, what caused Kirishima to get such a huge injury?”

Bakugou froze and let his head dip a bit towards the ground. You looked over at Kirishima who, for the first time, had a truly pissed off glint in his eye. You were taken by surprise at the silence that overcame them and considered taking back the question you had asked but stopped short when Katsuki began to speak again, this time his voice was just a gravely grunt.

“Ever heard of the Dark Kingdom?” was all he had to say as the mood became sinister and heavy.

Your eyes widened and you let out a brief shutter of a sigh as chills swept over your body, “Of course I have. Who hasn’t been affected by them in some way or another?” a grimace filled your now hushed voice. After all, how could you forget the ones who imprisoned your dear instructor?

“Kirishima and I had just made a trade with that damn Prince Shoto in the Todoroki Kingdom to the North last night and we were flying on our normal route back home when all of a sudden this huge blast of blue flames came hurtling towards Kiri. It came out of nowhere, no warning given. I don’t blame Kirishima for not being able to avoid the fucking sneak attack, but I do blame myself for being ignorant enough to not think that an assassin from the Dark Kingdom would try something on our only route home.” Katsuki closed his eyes as his eyebrows furrowed further.

“I should have expected it too, Bakugou. You’re not the only one who wasn’t thinking the smart way.” Kirishima tried to take some of the blame but Bakugou only continued.

“I got a brief glance at the attacker before Kiri fell. While he was falling, he managed to hit a rather large pine tree and instead of breaking it he impaled himself directly on it like a dumbass and further hurt himself. We hit the ground, I checked to see if Kiri was even alive and if I had anything broken, and once I confirmed he was breathing, I ran after the fucker who did this to give him a lesson like a jackass. I ran and ran, but the bastard got away and when I came back to help Kiri I saw you poking and prodding at his flesh and I just...saw red. Look, I’m sorry I jumped your shit and nearly killed you. Just don’t be such a weirdo and don’t go poking your head in business that doesn’t concern a dummy like you!” Bakugou finished while crossing his arms over his chest.

“How did this turn into my fault?” you rhetorically asked the air.

“Well, it’s because--,” Bakugou started.

“Didn’t need an answer on that, dunce,” you rolled your eyes and stood while looking over at Kirishima, “Well, to end this on a happier note, my medical work here is done, boys! You’re all patched up, Kiri!”

“Seriously? Freaking awesome!” he jumped up from the dirt and almost nearly collapsed again if it weren’t for you and Bakugou rushing to help him lean his weight on you two.

“You didn’t let me finish, you overgrown lizard! You’re all patched up, but there is only so much that cream can do. I wanted to say the both of you can come back to my cottage and you can rest up awhile, rehydrate, get some energy back. Plus, I can see about making you a potion that can fully heal that wound for you too!” you finished with a grin.

“Oh yeah? What’s the catch, bitchy witchy? Turning us into frogs to keep as pets?” Bakugou sneered.

You giggled with a smirk, “I haven’t thought of the price yet, but if you’re offering that sounds like fun! I bet you two would be the cutest frogs in the land! Maybe I could as far as cursing you to need a princess to kiss you back to your handsome selves again~!”

The two of them gasped at your cruelty, but you laughed, not noticing the blush on Bakugou’s face, “I’m kidding, guys! You don’t think I’m actually that mean, right?” you teased.

“O-Of course not, (Y/N)! Ha ha! Pleasedon’tturnusintofrogs!” Kirishima stuttered out with a paled face, which made you laugh.

“You worry too much! Let’s get you boys somewhere safe to hang out! Ooo! I have to show you guys everything!” you skipped down the dirt path that ultimately led to your house and you rambled on about your own little world as the two of them shambled close behind, one of them wondering what the hell they just got themselves into getting stuck with a cutie klutz like you and the other way too excited to help these two lovesick fools navigate their way through the world of romance.

~

~ The End ~

~

~ Extra Bonus Ending!!!! ~

~

The figure hidden in the shadows of the trees watched with a smirk as the beautiful young lady led the two idiots further into the forest and away from the clearing where the beast had sadly not bled out.

“Wow, what an interesting turn of events, chiefling,” the blue-eyed figure snickered as they incinerated the bloody cloak of the young maiden previously used to clean the dragon’s wound, “Let’s see how long your princess in shining armor can keep you safe~!”

~

~ To Be Continued… ~

~

[lunesart]

Timeline: Main AU

(This is going to be VERY long, so skip through if you don’t want to go through all of it)

1979: Fredbear’s Family Diner opens. The main attraction is Fredbear and Funbun, two springlock suits.

June 26, 1983: Freddy Fazbear’s opens. The Fazbear Four and the Puppet are there.

July 14, 1983: Michelle Brooks goes missing in the forest next to an unknown Freddy’s sister location.

July 30, 1983: Henry Emily removes William Afton from ownership of Freddy Fazbear’s, over concerns of Michelle’s disappearance and child abuse suspicions.

August 5, 1983: Charlotte Emily is found dead outside of Freddy’s, the murderer is unknown. Shadow Freddy is formed.

August 28, 1983: The Bite of ‘83. Evan Afton dies in the hospital 6 hours after Michael Afton, Jeremy Fritzgerald, Fernando Smith, and James Jackson pulled a prank on him. Fredbear’s closes and the springlock suites are retired.

June 26, 1985: Five children, Susie Denver, Fritz Ortiz, Gabriel and Jeremy Jackson, and Cassidy Li, go missing at Freddy’s. Henry Emily is arrested as the main suspect, but no evidence is found. The Puppet gives life to four, one hangs on for vengeance.

August 7, 1985: Freddy’s closes due to health concerns about the animatronics, which have been smelling awful and have been oozing gunk for the past few weeks. On the last day Freddy’s is open, someone tries to break in. After that, Fazbear entertainment assigns a day and a night guard to every location after.

August 19, 1985: Circus Baby’s Pizza World is opened. It is open for one day before closing due to a gas leak. Two children are reported missing after, May Jackson and Elizabeth Afton.

May 12, 1987: Two new Freddy locations are opened, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria and Circus Baby’s Rental and Entertainment. For the next few weeks, the technicians and night guards are reporting weird animatronic behavior. At Circus Baby’s, the old Funtimes from the last Baby’s are trying to kill technicians, and have succeeded with a few. At the new Freddy’s, the night guard is saying that the animatronics are trying to hurt him, but they seem afraid of him too. No one takes any of them seriously, except Scotty Brooks, an employee at Freddy’s.

May 19-24, 1987: Michael Afton, under the alias of “Eggs Benedict”, becomes a technician to find more about his sister’s disappearance at the urging of his father. After 5 nights of working and near-death experiences, Michael is tricked into being scooped by Ennard, an amalgamation of the Funtime animatronics. Ennard then uses Michael’s body as a skin suit to blend in with humans.

May 30, 1987: William Afton, the night guard at Freddy’s and the man behind the slaughter himself, kills 5 kids again. This time the kids are found. These kids then possess the new Toy animatronics and Balloon Boy. The day guard, Clay Burke, leaves the job due to the grief of losing his son to the murders. Afton then takes the dayshift.

May 31, 1987: After a week of inhabiting his body, Michael ejects Ennard out of his body. Michael is somehow still alive, despite being a decomposing corpse. He goes into hiding because of his appearance.

June 1-6, 1987: Jeremy Fritzgerald is hired as the new night guard. For the next 6 nights, 9 possessed animatronics, 2 shadows, and an angry ghost try to kill him. Due to the murders, Freddy’s will be closing soon. The day guard leaves out of nowhere one day, and Jeremy is primed to be the day guard for the last day. Jeremy asks his girlfriend best friend, Fritz Smith (formerly Fernando), to be the night guard for one night, and she agrees.

June 7, 1987: At the last event at Freddy’s, the birthday of Jason Sánchez, Jeremy is bitten by Toy Foxy, or Marla Sánchez “The Mangle”. He loses his frontal lobe, but lives. Fritz Smith goes to the last nightshift, and attempts to fix the animatronics by tampering with them, but this just makes them more aggressive. Fazbear Entertainment then bans her from ever getting a job at any Freddy's forever.

June 8, 1987: Circus Baby’s EAR closes due to the lack of animatronics. After the experience at Circus Baby’s and everything with the other Freddy’s, Michael pieces together that his father was the one responsible for everything. He then vows to find him.

Summer of 1993: Fazbear Entertainment tries one more time with Freddy’s, and creates a third location. Scotty Brooks, who has been recording everything that happened to the Fazbear brand, volunteers to be the night guard after the animatronics go through 4 of them. He goes through a few weeks before being killed by HER. He left some recordings on the phone in the office to help the next poor chap. In comes Michael Afton, or Mike Schmidt. He completes his 6 nights with the help from Brooks. But he keeps on getting IT’S ME messages from the old Fredbear suit in the safe room. On his 7th night, he tinkers with the animatronics, hoping that it will set the children free. It didn’t. After a hard night, Fazbear Entertainment fires and bans him from Freddy’s. Soon after they close due to no one wanting to go to a restaurant that has been tied to these horrible events.

Early Fall of 1993: Michael Afton has horrible nightmares that range 6 nights. These are caused by two figures from his past. William Afton breaks into the closed Freddy’s and destroys the four main animatronics. The souls from the animatronics chase him down and he is driven into the old Funbun suit, the suit that he lured the children and killed them in. He puts it on to scare them off, but the moist and moldy state of the suit and the rapid movement sets the springlocks off, killing him. His body lays there for a long time before the entire building is closed off.

2012: Michael adopts a girl named Vanessa.

Spring of 2015: Fazbear’s Frights is in development, and Jamie Jackson (formally James), applies for the Fright guard job. While Frights is being set up, the springlocked Afton terrorizes them for 4 nights, and on their 6th night on the job, they call in Michael who comes over to confront his father. They both decide to set the place on fire and blame it on faulty wiring. Fazbear’s Frights burns, but Afton survives.

Summer of 2015: Henry Emily contacts Michael, and they form a plan to end the nightmares for good. Henry lures Lefty, who holds the Puppet(Charlie) and Golden Bonnie(Michelle), Scrap Baby, who was Circus Baby(Elizabeth), Molten Freddy, who holds the MC, the DC, and Funtime Freddy (May Jackson), and Springtrap(William Afton). They lure them all there and burn the place to the ground, taking themselves with them. All of them pass on except William and Cassidy Li(Golden Freddy).

Fall of 2015: Cassidy traps William in a personal hell between life and death, killing him over and over again with his own creations. Meanwhile, Fazbear Entertainment tries to pick itself up by making games poking fun at the events in the past. They collect the old, burned animatronics, and load in their old hardware. And on one of hardwares is a remnant of William’s soul. By loading him into their coding, William escapes Cassidy’s hell. The Puppet and the other MC pitch in to give Cassidy her Happiest Day, and she finally passed on.

Spring of 2026: After having financial success with the games, Fazbear Entertainment makes a VR game to top off their success. In the development, William Afton infects the code and becomes Glitchtrap. Jeremy Fritzgerald Jr. becomes a victim of his mind control as he tries to take over his body, and eventually tries to kill himself after Glitchtrap tries to invade his body. Glitchtrap abandons him, not wanting to take such a risk, and that’s when Tanya Jackson(Tape girl) comes into play. She discoverers Glitchtrap in the game and tries to tell Fazbear Entertainment, but they brush it off. Tanya makes tapes to warn other beta testers of Glitchtrap, but through those tapes Glitchtrap manages to trap her soul in a Freddy suit in the game, sending her body into a coma. Glitchtrap attempts to possess her body, but it just has her sent to a mental hospital. The next beta tester, Vanessa Afton, finds the tapes and gets a grip on what is the deal with the game. Glitchtrap instead of just taking over body, infects her mind and starts to turn her towards his ways. Vanessa traps in a Bonnie plush, but still hears and sees him everywhere.

Early Summer of 2026: The Special Delivery emails. Vanessa loses herself to Glitchtrap’s influence and becomes “Vanny”.

Late Summer of 2026: Security Breach.

[whitherliliesbloom]

fragrant sorrow

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #10 - heady ]

[ implied kaye/lily ] ★ [ 1,805 words ]  ★ [ wozwald au ] content warning- features use of dr*gs, alcohol and tobacco. passing mentions of sex too but it doesn’t happen on screen or involve the main characters. kaye also kills a man. be warned, this is wozwald au, after all.

heady: intoxicating; affecting the mind or senses greatly

even after all these years, the scent of flowers brought the god of death the most amount of pain. 

It fucking reeks. 

His lungs hurt to even take a breath, nose filled with the cloying stench he’s grown all too familiar with. With fists balled tight in the confines of his pockets, he takes heavy steps deeper through the sickly grey corridors, with only the weight of the scythe strapped to his back serving as a reminder... or rather motivation for moving forward. 

Flashing lights leak through the gaps of the rusted metal door that lets out a deafeningly ear-piercing shriek as he pulls it open, and the scent of complete and utter depravity floods his senses.

There’s the familiar and known - the odor of cigarette smoke and bitter alcohol intermingling in the air... so heavy and concentrated it would almost be enough alone to dull his senses. Like an old friend he hated to know - but comforting in it’s own sickening, addictive way, even if it hurt him to indulge in it.

And then there’s everything else that Kaye loathed that kept his disgust for the place increasing triple fold - distinct notes of burnt chemicals and sweet, heady musk that has him scrunching his nose up and resisting the urge to raise a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

It fucking reeks. Even more than me. 

The carpet beneath his leather boots feels damp - soiled and damp with a concoction of wine and bodily fluids. To even hear the very squelch with every step he took caused the man’s nerves to shrivel... though he has long since learned to hide whatever discomfort he feels. 

And the sights are no more better than the scents and sounds - used needles lay discarded upon tables and couch cushions, crumpled smallclothes neglected and equally well worn strewn about... along with the numerous bodies of both warm and cold that littered the space of the club.

Most of the stiff bodies, as far as the man could tell, were caused by overdose of some kind... poor sods whose life essence had been willingly but not full knowingly given up to fuel the debauched existence of the pathetic excuse of a god.

It was a good thing he’d convinced Lily to stay behind at the camp - though he did promise to make his way back within an hour or she’d feel compelled to come storming through the place out of worry, which she has full right to.

But he didn’t quite feel like having her bear witness to what he’s surrounded himself with now. It’s sure to take several hours worth of comforting, soothing and a patience from him that he’s running thin on. It wasn’t that he disliked her presence - or hated to reassure what was to be the closest thing he’s had to an actual... companion or friend in god knows how long. 

But the stench that was depravity has seeped too far into his own bones, tainted his own blood so much that to even think he was even in any position to separate himself from the very things that the far too innocent for her own good lesser goddess... it was a hypocrisy that made his blood begin to bubble and boil. 

It fucking reeks. But this is exactly the type of scent that suited a monster like him best.

Kaye stops, expression morbid though unchanging and sharp gaze hardened as he stares down at the lesser god of all lesser gods lounging lazily upon the throne made of discarded plush cushions. 

And like the sheer weakling he is, he is wholly unaware of the immense power disparity between himself and his visitor, so much that he’d looked up with a cocky smirk, drawing a sharp inhale of his cigar before blowing the smoke in Kaye’s face.

The further one is away from divinity, the more detached they become from the natural order... with senses so dulled by their own foils that they could not even recognize one of the original pantheon in the flesh.

But that only made Kaye’s job easier, as he silently eyes down the lesser god of carnal pleasures.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure, lad?” The bastard has the audacity to act cordial with him. It would seem he’s as much of an idiot as he was perverse. “Yours is an unfamiliar face.”

“Of course it is.” Kaye responds, voice sour and aloof by comparison. 

“Then what’re here for?” The man asks again, leaning forward to bear his rotten, blackened teeth in a wide grin as he spreads his arms out in a gesture of welcome. “The ladies? The booze? You seem the straight and narrow type. Thinkin’ about losing yourself to your carnal pleasures for the first time huh? Everyone always gives in to it eventually after they remember how worthless life is.”

Kaye grits his teeth beneath sealed lips, and with jaws tightened, he reaches behind his back with one hand.

“’Appreciate the offer... but I’m several millennia too old for this shit.”

“-Wait- What are you-”

The scythe takes another life, clean and effortless as ever. Blood spills freely, pouring over the altar of the now dismantled god.... and Kaye can hear the demented screams of what little of his worshippers assaulting his ear drums.

The smell of iron and death permeates the air, and Kaye turns to leave before he can become drunk on it.

It fucking reeks. 

---

He didn’t have much luck in convincing Lily this time - stubborn as she is whenever she wanted to or felt like she had to be... and him not having enough energy to fight her enthusiasm. She’s younger, more energetic... and he’d admit to no one that he’s envious of that at times. 

But she’s also naive and kind, traits that alone are praiseworthy... but certainly not something that belongs in the modern age - it was a miracle she even came into existence as she did on account of the state of things.

That was also part of the reason why he hadn’t wanted her to come with him on this visit - though that reason had been far more selfish on his part this time than before. 

Because whereas his earlier refusal to let her join him in disposing of the god of carnal pleasures was out of a pure protectiveness for her wellbeing that Lily could fully understand, she could not fathom why Kaye would be so unwilling in letting her visit the abandoned altars of one of the original six. 

He’d even brought a bouquet of flowers, something Lily thought she’d never in all her life get to see the ultra god of grouchiness would ever hold - even if the man did seem a tad put off by his own gift for some reason, for lack of a better term. 

And so she’d followed even in his protest... deep into a forest away from the main city as they walked further and further away from the gaudy neon lights and street lamps into the cold glow of the moonlight through a canopy of dense forest tree branches and leaves.

Lily can tell as Kaye pushed past the overgrowth with practiced ease that he has the route memorized... despite there being no real set path to their destination at all. 

And when they finally reached a clearing in the woods and reached the stone altar, surrounded by crumbled stone walls and mossy bushes, Lily finally gained an inkling of why Kaye had been so hesitant in letting her come visit the pseudo-grave of one of his old companions. 

There was next to none left of the original shrine... now left with a singular stone with a shape of an hourglass carved into its surface that Lily instantly recognized.

It was the emblem of the late goddess of creation - the last god of the original six to have died barring Kaye himself. 

Lily has read tomes about her - about the goddess who, despite her relative weakness in comparison to the other five... possessed within her the great gift that was the ability to create... to give life and change to the very essence of the world. 

In a sense, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that this goddess was Lily’s predecessor.

And though the current goddess of change could not possibly know what type of person the goddess then had been... the fact that she had faded away due to the lack of followers and not due to the judgement passed on by the god of death’s scythe was enough for her to understand now the pain Kaye must feel even just thinking of her.

And it was apparent- even with the lack of emotion in his tense expression as he bends down on one knee to place the flowers beneath the stone before rising to his feet and forcing himself to feign a relaxed demeanor by burying his hands in his pockets and slouching... which only made it more obvious to Lily just how on edge and uncomfortable he was.

She hesitates for a moment, but she finally fights all of her natural instincts telling her to stay quiet to speak and ask him a question.

“What was she like? The goddess of creation?”

Kaye stiffens, and Lily almost mistakens him for a statue as he bows his head and gazes down at the flowers with sorrow welling in his dark eyes.

It takes a while for him to respond... but when he does, the pain in his voice shatters Lily’s heart.

“She was gentle. Kind. An idiot, all things considering... Not unlike you, I guess.” 

This world as it is had no place for the softhearted, Kaye knew that the moment he had started to note this old friend’s power growing dimmer and dimmer. And yet even on her deathbed... even counting down the days to her inevitable disappearance, she held a gentle, weak little smile upon her face.

“She liked flowers...” He thinks to add, and his nose scrunches up once more.

It reeks. The whole altar reeks. He can barely even remember what her voice sounded like or what her smile looked like. And yet the scent of flowers would ever stay fresh to haunt him. 

It’s a fragrance of floral notes and fresh wind... an intoxicating blend of gentle lavender, lilies and chrysanthemums. It was a kind, gentle, sweet and beautiful scent.....

And it ill-suits the rotten state of the modern age... It ill-suited him.

Just recollecting old memories has made the god of death wobbly on his feet, and he turns to leave before Lily can stop him. He needs a cig. 

But not here... Not here where the scent of flowers still rung fresh. Not where his greatest sorrow and regret has yet to be tainted by the odor that he now carried. 

[fallout-lou-begas]

yesjejunus’ lesbophobia

I want to preface this by saying that I’m not making this post to add fuel to the fire of the callout debacle that I’m sure many of you are sick of already, as I’ve already made my thoughts on the matter abundantly apparent.

No, I’m making this post because more than anything else this is an extremely funny story.

So if you’re interested in the lore behind yesjejunus’ alleged lesbophobia—that is, the point on the callout document regarding “her female courier OC asking Joshua Graham to impregnate her so that she can ‘grow bigger breasts to flatter and lie to a lesbian’”—then look no further.

This is the story of the Big Mommy Milkers.

July 22, 2020: Yesjejunus and I are chatting over discord about our courier characters, mine is Agnes and hers is Joan. Some key things to know are that Agnes is afraid of robots and a lesbian, and that Joan is heterosexual, completely flat-chested, and a megalomaniac (I also feel the need to mention that both yesjejunus and I are WLW, so any hubbub over whether we’re “allowed” to make lesbian jokes or not ought to be moot). Specifically, we were talking about a potential AU in which Agnes is a companion character to Joan, like the other in-game companions, and simply imagining the interactions, indulgently. However, when we came to the matter that Joan activated the Securitron Army beneath Fortification Hill (ultimately to take over New Vegas with Yes Man), Agnes would extremely dislike that due to her fear of robots. We realized that, if this were something that actually existed in-game, you would probably need to succeed at some sort of dialogue check to convince her that you hadn’t actually activated a massive army of killer robots, otherwise she would abandon you (similar to how Cass leaves if you have low karma, or Boone leaves if you work against the NCR). We figured that you could pass this hypothetical check through either a Speech check (a simply convincing lie) or an Explosives check (using your expertise to lie about the robots being blown up).

However, there was a third dialogue option that we thought of. Since Agnes is a lesbian, we imagined that anyone with the Cherchez la Femme perk should be able to charm or flatter her into taking your word for what happened in the bunker. As stated before, though, Joan is not attracted to women, so would not have the perk, so would not be able to pass that skill check. This train of thought led to the creation of this image by my hand, in which she is failing all three possible dialogue checks:

As you can see, whereas Speech and Explosives simply have insufficient skill points, the lack of the Cherchez la Femme perk is symbolized by the bracketed label of [HETEROSEXUAL]. This little detail really made yesjejunus laugh, and she said:

yesjejunus:

okay but the implication here is hilarious

"I wish I was gay so I could lie"

quick joan, drum up interest in breasts

And I, who am extremely dumb of ass, misread her last message as “quick joan, drum up breasts,” as if simply growing a big rack would suddenly solve the problem. So that’s when I replied:

me:

"quick joshua [graham, her OC’s love interest] i need you to impregnate me"

"why"

"i need big mommy milkers so i can flatter a lesbian with my looks enough to lie to her"

That’s right. I ghost-wrote the infamous Big Mommy Milkers comic and it’s all because of a lapse of reading comprehension. Why Big Mommy Milkers? Because it’s an ontologically, essentially funny combination of words and sounds, it’s a phrase that is, as the kids say, “extremely cursed,” and we had a very, very good laugh about it. But yes, this is when yesjejunus drew that aforementioned comic, which I’m glad to reupload here in all of its horrible posterity (click for full-size):

Originally, this was shared privately just between us and our friends, including @worthlesssix​ who drew her own hilarious addendum to the saga (click for full-size):

And as we realized how absurd the entire scenario was and found the sheer amount of context required to understand it in the first place funny in and of itself, we thought it’d also be funny for me to post my comic and for Yesjejunus to post her comic independently of each other with no context at about the same time. But we also posted them because we’re friends and doing silly things for each other is something friends do. As you can see in the callout document’s own screenshot of the original, since-deleted post, she tagged it herself as “#I present this with no context #For now anyway,” evidencing the existence of some kind of inside-joke, because there was, and this was it. This is the “now” in which the context is being presented, ha.

And that’s it. That’s the entire story of how and why her female courier OC asked Joshua Graham to impregnate her so that she can “grow bigger breasts to flatter and lie to a lesbian.” Your friend Lou misread a joke and created another joke, Frankenstein-like, the monster known as Big Mommy Milkers, which is now being used as evidence of criminal lesbophobia.

[avversiera-writes]

try again; in every day we breathe life [tobirama senju/you] - chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Now

Summary: Tobirama’s secret disquisition is taking a toll on him. More of a comfort chapter. 

Word count: ~3k

available on AO3. 

Chapter 1 - Now | Chapter 2 - Then, part 1 | Chapter 2 - Then, part 2 | Chapter 3 - Now | Chapter 4 - Then | Chapter 5 - Then | 

Tobirama massages the bridge of his nose as the words on the paper in front of him starts to blur into incoherent sentences. Tremors plague his hands too often now, and his chest often feels tight. He knows these are signs that he is very fatigued and that he lacks sleep–these days, he has simply stopped sleeping altogether. The energy that he rides on is the hope that he can finish his secret disquisition, so that finally he can rest. He just needs to do this one last thing. 

 The events of the year had spurred him on to throw himself on his Edo Tensei . He feels that this is the only way he can cope and handle his troubles in the near future. Especially if his theory about his brother is true: that he is dying everyday he lives.

 He is almost never wrong. 

 He needs a backup plan. A safeguard, among his other collections of safeguards. Someone like him can never have too many. 

 And he believes that the answers lie in his creation. 

Tobirama sighs and he presses his palms into his eyes. Maybe he really needs sleep. 

 The office doors open after a knock, and he looks up to find his brother. He cannot help but notice that Hashirama’s hair is silky and that his face is smooth, free of the blemishes of a wrinkle. There are no spots on his skin, and in fact, his skin seems to glow with youth. 

“Elder brother,” Tobirama greets him, with utmost respect. 

 Hashirama’s face softens towards him. The glaze in his eyes from the other night is gone. He looks more alert. “You called for me?” 

Tobirama tries to hide the way his hands seem to shake and fishes for the papers that he wants his brother to see. He takes his time, in the guise of searching for it, even though he is organized enough to know where each document is. 

 “I…” Tobirama begins, taking his time to form his words. “First, I have told you that this is not a good idea. Despite my best efforts to persuade you, I know you are also quite stubborn. So here. The approval to begin the construction of your precious statues. It commences next month.” 

Hashirama’s eyes widened in surprise. “Brother, I don’t know what to say.”

 Tobirama rolls his eyes, but much to his chagrin, he gives his last sibling a genuine smile. “Don’t flatter yourself. My wife put me up to this.” 

 Hashirama laughs, and Tobirama is glad that it sounds carefree. His eyes form into beautiful crescents, and Tobirama softens. There is his cheerful brother. 

“Give my thanks to her,” Hashirama says. “She is the best of us.” 

 Tobirama nods, and he clutches his hands under the desk. He will always agree to that, because as compared to him, her flaws pale in comparison. 

Hashirama pauses before turning towards the door. “And come visit your eldest nephew and his wife soon. We have heard that they will have a girl in about a month.” Hashirama chuckles giddily. “I will be a grandfather!” 

Tobirama stops breathing, but thankfully, Hashirama has left before he can break down any further. 

 He closes his eyes, and suddenly, he is taken back to a more peaceful morning, as he prepares to travel to Kumogakure. That day will never be erased from his mind, not when he could have connected the pieces that were falling into place that almost cost her life. If he wasn’t so busy, if he just prioritized her a little bit more and only trusted himself to look after her, then maybe he could have been there on time. As the Hokage, it is his job to keep the village safe, but what kind of husband does that make him? When, once again, he has chosen the village over her.

Tobirama remembers her giddy smile, and the warm sensation spreading across his chest as she whispers to him a secret. 

 “ I think it’s a girl ,” she says, unable to control the wide grin spreading across her lips. 

Tobirama feels his heart break further. He hates to see his wife reduced to tears, because those are few and far in between. She is strong, and has always known a clear line between right and wrong. Now, it is almost like she is becoming like him. 

 He was very relieved to hear that she could not ever go through with killing Kimiko, but if he wasn’t there to stop her on time, who knows what could have happened. 

Tobirama does not cry, but if he is going to, this will be the moment he will choose to weep. 

 He feels as if there is nothing he can do, and there is no tangible way to come through on one end in one piece. The gods may just be out there to spite him. 

 Everything is falling apart. He can build kingdoms and construct beautiful castles. He can take dreams and make them into a reality, but they all mean nothing if the people that he centered his life around cannot be with him. 

Being alone has never been a worry for him. Solitude has been his preference for a while now, but being truly alone, and losing those he gave his all for, he would rather lose a limb than bear that kind of loneliness. After all he is human, and not a god. As much as he plays that part. 

//

He finally goes home, having lost his time once again over his endeavours. He trudges up the stairs quietly, and into the bathroom to try and wash up. He feels dirty. There is dried blood caked under his short nails, and he smells like chemicals, ink and death. He carefully peels his shirt over his head, and he stares at his reflection for a moment. 

 He is beginning to resemble the corpses that he hangs out with. 

 He leans over the sink and runs the water. He opts for using the faucet instead of the bathtub, afraid to make loud noises that will wake you. 

“Tobirama?” 

Your husband whirls around, and you give him a once-over. He is trembling a little. You note how messy his hair is–messier than normal–and how his eyes are stark bright like fresh blood, and how his face is becoming knife-like from the days he spends forgoing proper nutrition. Your eyes go to his cheek, where there is a smudge of dirt on it. It almost looks like dried blood, and it makes you swallow your words. 

 You are unsure what to say next, because you have a gut feeling that you should not get closer to Tobirama. He is different from the man you last saw this morning, who was calm and collected. The man before you looks like a stray animal ready to bite the hand that tries to pet them. 

Tobirama tries to get a hold of himself, but his mind and his senses betray him. He feels overwhelmed. 

 "You should be asleep," he mumbles under his breath. 

 "I have been sleeping all day," you reply softly, not wanting to alarm him any further. 

 "Please," Tobirama says. He does not want you to see him like this. You make him feel weak. "Go to bed." 

You ignore the slight hurt that you feel from being dismissed, but this is Tobirama. You have learned how to look beyond what he is saying outrightly. You can sense how freaked out he is. 

 "What happened?" You ask in a low, urgent tone. 

Tobirama turns away and he takes a few deep breaths. He feels like he is about to retch. "Nothing."

 He hears you step closer cautiously, and Tobirama tenses. If you touch him, he will melt and he will let go of any inhibitions he has left. If you touch him, he will want more. If you do, he may also react in a way that may hurt you as he could not bare any human contact on his skin at the moment. Just the thought of it makes his stomach curl.  

"Go to bed," Tobirama repeats and he fills his cupped hands with water. He slaps the water onto his face, but when he opens his eyes, he finds that you are still there. 

 "Tobi," you whisper. 

Water drips from his face and he turns off the faucet. He is not sure what to do next. The two of you have your own brands of stubbornness. 

 The sound of your voice saying his name seems to ground him, and this prompts you to get closer. 

 Tobirama takes the nearest towel to dab his face dry, and when he finishes, you take the towel from him and put it on the pile of used towels.  

"My love," you murmur softly. "Let’s get you dressed for bed." 

Tobirama takes a deep breath, and he turns to you. You wait for him to come to you instead of taking his hand to pull him forward, and from there, you follow him back into your room. Tobirama dresses in silence, and you stand there, your hands opening and closing, trying to figure out what to do next. 

 You are not a stranger to his changing moods, but sometimes they come unexpectedly, and they are not always the same. You know that he has stopped sleeping, and opts to skip meals to attend to whatever it is he’s busying himself with. His silhouette in the darkness is noticeably thinner, and while you are waiting for him to make you understand what he is doing or to let you know what else is bothering him, you are becoming more concerned. 

 You hate to see him like this.  

“Tobirama,” you utter his name, and slowly, you step closer into his space. You see how tense he is, so you make your movements slow and non-urgent. “It’s okay.” 

 You watch him run his fingers through his hair and let out a shaky breath. 

“It’s okay,” you repeat. You try to control the tears that are coming. 

 The shadows of the dark room seem to engulf him, but you will never abandon him and leave him to fend for himself. 

"I'm coming closer," you tell him, and slowly, you slide your arms around his waist from behind.

 You can feel him stiffen, but it does not discourage you. You press your chest on his back and you rest your head in between his shoulder blades, and you hold him. It takes a long time, but finally, his body melts into yours and he gives into your warmth.

 Tobirama lets himself rest in your embrace, and he reminds himself that you are alive, that you are breathing, and your skin has color, not like the ashen gray that dead bodies have. You are warm and supple, not cold and monumental. 

 He is so tired, but there is no such thing as rest for people like him. People like him rest in the battlefield, and it is both their bed and their grave. 

Tobirama rests his arms on yours and he holds your arms. For a moment, you make him still. For a moment, the world falls away, and the races in his mind make its pause. He is not one to ask for much, let alone look for comfort, but for now, he lets himself be held. 

//

After ushering him to bed, Tobirama is silent. 

 You sense that whatever thoughts that are swirling in his mind have settled like dust. He is not trembling anymore, and the natural paleness of his skin has returned, not like the pale green hue that he seems to embody earlier. The two of you face each other, hands entwined on your pillows. Sleep is a faraway thought, but you are glad to have him like this. 

 Tobirama watches you intently as you press a kiss on his knuckles, and then rest his hand under your cheek. 

“I love you,” Tobirama murmurs. He rarely says this, but it always rings true. He feels ashamed for saying this to you after hiding so many secrets, but he never lies about what he feels towards you. Those three words taste gritty on his tongue, but he thinks you must know. Just in case your perception of him changes.

 He doesn't deserve you, and inside, his heart clashes on trying to be worthy of your love and trying to be the leader this village needs. He is always sure of his ways, but when he sees you teetering between black and white, he questions his path because he sees a part of himself in you. 

 Perhaps, you do the same. 

“You have to rest,” you tell him. “Send a shadow clone. Or give yourself a full day-off. For your sake.” 

 “I don’t know how to stop,” he tells you bluntly. “I must remain steadfast.” 

 “Can you really do this for long?” 

“I have to,” Tobirama says. “There is no other way.” 

 Your eyes swim, and the pace of your heart starts to pick up. Those words scare you. 

  Your Senju husband will fail , Madara once said in your dreams. He will do everything right and what he is supposed to do, but in the grand scheme of things, he is nothing. 

You close your eyes, feeling dread creep under your skin. 

“You know I am right,” Tobirama continues. 

 “No.” You bite your lip. “Sometimes your right does not mean it is right.” 

 “I know,” Tobirama says and his eyes refuse to meet yours. 

A tear escapes your eye, but Tobirama is quick to wipe it away with his free hand. 

 “Do not cry for me,” Tobirama says. 

 “How can you say that?” You say with disbelief. “I have the right to cry for you.” 

Tobirama sighs, and rests his palm on your cheek. The two of you begin a staring contest, but you win when Tobirama finally looks away. 

“We’re becoming ridiculous, aren’t we?” 

 “Quite,” Tobirama yawns. 

 “You still have me.” You lean towards him. 

Tobirama pulls you closer, and he holds you to his chest. You close your eyes as you feel his heart underneath your ear. He still holds you as strongly and certainly. 

“I will take your suggestion tomorrow,” Tobirama finally says. “One thing at a time, right?” 

 “Good enough for me,” you murmur into his chest and you press a kiss on it. 

“All right,” Tobirama mutters, and his arms tighten around you.

To be continued...

Chapter 7 - Then >>