#ITS FINALLY DONE!!!! goes back into hibernation

[hairscare]

my mom is one of those white women who would die on the cross to save pitbulls but she also has hyperempathy autism so it kind of applies to all animals. now for the last maybe 18 years weve had this turtle at my grandmothers house and the only reason we had it is that my dad (also has crazy autism just of the baseball variety) accidentally ran it over with the lawnmower when it was just born and decided to keep it. for nearly my entire life we had that turtle and we really didnt think that much about it- obviously we took care of it and fed it, but we didnt really pay a ton of attention to it or even give it a name, it was just "the turtle" "she" or at most "lady turtle". anyways after my grandmother passed away my dad ended up with the turtle which was no big deal since hed been taking care of it the whole time anyways so he was just like whatever well keep it at her house until it starts hibernating and then well bring it home

well. my mother got her hands on this turtle. now keep in mind that every pet we have ever had has been spoiled to hell and back, ESPECIALLY by my mom. i was also away at college at this point so she didnt really have me around to coddle. so now she has this turtle, this turtle that has been an unremarkable part of me and my dads life for almost 20 years, and she goes CRAZY. suddenly shes calling me at college and telling me all about Mathilde, or Tilly, as shes dubbed her, who now has a giant tank full of enrichment, that she coos at and talks to all day. it got to the point where she would talk about the turtle at our extended family sunday dinners. she knows what fruits tilly likes and doesnt like, and she talks to her like shes a baby.

but all summers must come to an end, and so tilly was soon back into hibernation. for many months my mother yearned for her turtle. however, she found a way to fill the void in her heart: research. for the past few months she has been obsessively watching turtle youtubers, specifically ones who rescue disabled turtles, because my mom cannot resist the sight of a disabled animal being saved (weve had so many at this point - we even have the holy grail of disabled animals aka a pitbull with 3 legs that she valiantly saved at my rabbits vet as a puppy from a drug money pitbull breeding ring. yeah its to that point with my mom.) shes been buying books to read, shes been going to conventions, she was looking at turtle enclosures on pinterest at my doctors waiting room yesterday, hell she even watercolored a turtle print she bought.

but finally today, after months of waiting..... tilly has awoken from her slumber. my mom has been anxiously awaiting this day for so long, terrified that her precious turtle may be ill or hungry or dehydrated... thank god, the turtle is fine because its literally a turtle and it hibernates without any issues every year. shes got this thing living in the turtle garden of eden, waited on hand and foot, and shes still terrified that a small breeze may come and strike her down. she drank a bunch of water just now (keep in mind, shes a TURTLE that just got done HIBERNATING) and my mom was "worried she drowned". but no, thankfully the turtle is alive and well.

all of this is to say that now that spring has sprung ill get to stumble upon my mom silently looming over our turtle for half an hour again

[motherofdogs1010]

Of Messiahs and Seeds III (Dark!Paul Atreides x Reader)

Summary: Emperor Paul of House Atredies has set forth with expansion of his empire on the planets that have resisted and has now come across the last stronghold that resists him: Terra Millennium...

Warnings: dark! fic, 18+ only, eventual DUBCON, eventual forced marriage, eventual pregnancy, violence, language, drinking, chubby!reader, dark!Paul Atreides, possessive!Paul, obssessive! Paul, spoilers for Dune Part 2

Dividers @firefly-graphics Banner @vase-of-lilies

Series Masterlist

The Apollo Colony was the first to lose contact and it felt like the beginning of a long game; one where Y/N knew her rule was soon to be tested.

And the dreams had only gotten worse and more frequent; Y/N found that practically any time she closed her eyes, Paul was there to whisper in her ear and it was beginning to be difficult to figure out what was reality.

Y/N looked at the heirloom crystal in her hand as she sat on her balcony; she wondered how her mother would be handling this right now.

The moon hung bright and full as always with her scaly children sleeping below as she stood up, her nightgown clinging to her body as she saw the city around her with the people happily bustling around for the night life.

She sighed as she walked into her bedroom, winter was coming in a few weeks and the winters were always harsh on Terra M above the equator. It looked like a tundra when the winters arrived and felt like the inside of a ice cube, which prompted so many resources to keep everyone afloat.

Paul felt pleased with himself as he sat in his room, the hologram of his future bride in front of him. He had invaded her dreams, filling them with their promised future that he had seen; he could practically feel her hair through his fingers, and hear the newborn cries of their son as he came into the world.

It was all falling into plan, Terra M was about to go into its harsh winters and be left vulnerable if he was correct. They heavily relied on their built-up resources to make it through the three-month-long brutal winter since the population lived above an equator.

Those dragons of his beloved would go into hibernation underground; that would leave one defense gone and away. He wouldn't dare to hurt them, they were an extension of his love and he knew how she cared for the scaled beasts.

"Paul", his mother said as she entered the room.

Her blue eyes bore into his as she said, "It's been taken care of, Irulan will no longer stand in your way."

"And her father?"

"Both poisoned, my son. None will be the wiser to question their deaths."

"Good."

Yes, everything was falling into place.

There was just one final thing left to do.

The smell of ash made its way into her nose as she felt the harsh winter air against her skin, she breathed out and saw her icy breath as she exhaled. Her skin prickled from the cold as she looked around, seeing the white, virgin piles of snow around her as she tried to get her bearings.

"Hello, my love."

Quickly turning around, Y/N saw him, saw Paul standing there with his cheeks and nose pink from the cold.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, "Terra has done nothing to the Empire."

"It isn't what Terra has done, but rather what you have done, my Queen."

Paul slowly began to circle her, the crunching of snow under his weight as he did. Snowflakes fell at a soft, slow pace as he spoke, "You have overtaken my mind, left me vulnerable to feelings that I thought I was immune to feeling again."

"That is not my fault", she argued.

"Oh, but it is", Paul smirked, "your very existence is your fault and that is something that your people will pay for."

"My existence?"

"Your very existence goes against nature. How old are you? I purpose much older than I as your people live very well into their thousands. Flesh which should wither and wrinkle remaining youthful and plump."

Y/N was silent.

Jolting awake, Y/N found herself alone once more as she scooted up the bed and pushed her hair back. She tried to steady her breathing as she felt as if it she looked out into the darkness, she would be able to see the glimmer of him smirking.

🌎

"We must devise a plan", Lord Felix argued, "they have taken the Apollo Colony. The only logical choice for them to grab next is the Venus Colony and we must devise a plan of attack."

The Council meeting was buzzing with ideas, and arguments of what to do as Y/N listened to the proposed ideas. It was true, she needed to confront the Empire and its might but it has to be logical, fool-proof.

"Lord York", she finally said, the man looking at her. "Get as much information on the Great Houses and the Empire's armies. There will be a weak spot."

"And once we have the weak spot, your grace?"

"We rip them out like a weed, one by one."

TAGLIST

@ninastyless @james-bucky-barnackle @astarborntowrite @maggiecc @radiantdanvers @croatianprincess @deluxeplanteater @szapizzapanda @khaleesihavilliard @deathsimp @frickyea-guacamole19

[crushedsweets]

may we get some like random hc? i just like hearing them.

ok im so bored and have no ideas but i will talk and see what emerges. ok actually now that im done i wrote a lot LMFAO

natalie's hair was always really fucked up growing up. tangled, dirty, matted, etc - generally neglected. eventually her dad just gave her a shitty ass bob so they wouldnt have to deal with it anymore, which grew into a shag that she wore throughout highschool. after highschool, she never cuts her hair. she doesn't take GREAT care of it, but she keeps it brushed - never wants to deal with matted hair again

natalie also kept the literal clock in her eye until she was about 22. she wore a medical eyepatch when at work and made up some health excuse, but she EVENTUALLY got an actual prosthetic eye when she was around 25. . . and it is in fact clock designed. but its more comfortable and less risk of infection

after the whole nina leaving jeff fiasco, jane realizes how much her job (private investigator) has been impacting her health. she begins getting teaching credentials to be a college professor. mary, her wife, teaches elementary school. they compliment each other nicely

jane also began dipping into some gothic looks after meeting nina. at first, it was because she was playing undercover (paid by Liu) to figure out what Nina's deal with jeff was - so she knew nina was in alternative crowds, and tried to dress the part. then she started to get into the silhouettes and lace and jewelry and whatnot. but she still is usually just in classic, simple dresses and jewelry

natalie, toby, and nina all smoke weed. natalie is the worst of them. kate gets super paranoid when she's high, and jack just doesn't like it. all of them drink though, usually when they hang out at the proxy cabin, toby will open a 6 pack and they'll chat or something.

nina would cut a very shallow smile into her cheeks basically every week from ages 17-22. it was just the first layer of skin and would bubble up some blood, but it was never that severe. the skin on someones face heals really well, BUT nina did it so often, it's permanently scarred. she uses makeup to cover it

nina gets a motorcycle after she leaves jeff!!!! it's her easiest way of getting to and from her friends in the woods, and she thinks she looks super badass. she's got it wrapped in pink and has a pink helmet and everything. clocky n kate have been her backpack a few times. toby refuses to try, and jacks too big.

BEN, Jack, and Jeff all frequent the dark web.

since I know it doesn't make sense for all of them to even have wifi in the woods, I THIIINK i'm just gonna chalk it up to BEN's presence. he is a wifi tower. or something like that. when he's off and away(which is rare), they all lose signal and r pissy about it.

nina goes to raves. frequently.

when kate is finally getting pushed to get away from slendy (since O/S are both getting weaker and starting to fall back into hibernation), she gets a job at a morgue. night shift, quiet, private, used to everything, etcccc etc etc

[direwombat]

a wip wednesday? on my birthday? it's more likely than you think 🎉

tagged by @adelaidedrubman and @g0dspeeed to share some wip (tysm~! <3)

enjoy the first little bit of katc chapter 6/interlude ii

Hope County, MT. September 13, 2018. St. Francis Veterans Center, Whitetail Mountains. 10:35pm.

Toiling away by the light of a single desk lamp, Jacob Seed sits hunched over his desk, going over the day’s reports. Throughout the course of the evening, his reading glasses have slipped down the bridge of his nose and now perch at its tip. His neck and shoulders ache, but the night isn’t over yet.

Years of meticulous planning and intense preparation have gotten them this far, but all that time, they were operating in the shadows. They were outcasts by choice, keeping to themselves and biding their time until given the order to strike. Joseph had taken care to amass an army, just as Jacob, John, and Faith kept them well trained, motivated, and dumb. But now that the Reaping has begun, now that they’ve declared war, they need to act fast

Victory is never a guarantee, and the longer the fight goes on, the more likely it is that the Resistance will start gaining ground. The element of surprise is gone; now, he and his soldiers are digging in for the long fight. 

This is his final stand against the world who wronged him. His swan song. His way of ensuring a better future for his brothers and sister to make up for the way he failed once before. 

He will not fail again. He can’t. 

Just as Noah survived the flood, so too will they survive the fires of war. 

And when his family is safe -- when they’re underground, hibernating in the safety of their bunkers, he can finally rest. He’ll watch the world burn, and when the smoke fills his lungs and his body gives out from exhaustion, he’ll lay his head down and close his eyes one last time. 

His work will be done. He’ll have served his purpose.

But until then, he must remain vigilant and on guard. He is their sword and shield. He has a purpose, and he can’t allow himself a moment’s weakness until that purpose is fulfilled. 

He sits up and groans as his spine realigns and a series of violent pops sound loudly in the silence of his office. With a heavy sigh, he lets the report he’d been reading float back down onto his desk. His hand reaches for the mug that rests off to the side and lifts it to his lips. The coffee inside has gone from tepid to cold since he last took a sip. His face scrunches involuntarily, the acrid bitterness too much, even for him. 

Rising from his desk, he takes a moment to stretch before moving over to the coffee maker resting on one of his filing cabinets for a refill. What’s left in the carafe is still warm, and he stops pouring only when the surface tension threatens to break. Carefully lifting the mug once again, he takes a sip. It burns his tongue and he breathes a small sigh of relief. That’s better. 

His attention turns to the bulletin board on the nearby wall and regards it with a critical eye. He’d been adding pins and grainy photographs to it as he’s been getting reports in. Overall, the Reaping has been going according to plan -- at least according to his Chosen. He holds an iron grip over the Whitetails, and according to the faxes he’s received from the Valley and Henbane, the infantry has done well to overpower the average citizen of the county.

His men are all in position and the outposts are secure. Roadblocks are in place at all entrances and exits to the Whitetails and there are regular boat patrols along the shores. Radio jammers are blocking all non-Project frequencies, cutting off enemy communication. Jess Black has been captured and is being held at the lumber mill, and Deputy Pratt is set to be shipped to the Grand View for conditioning at dawn. 

And with the rogue Deputy currently in John’s custody, he can focus his attention on neutralizing the one threat that’s his own damn fault. 

Eli Palmer knows too much.

Jacob should have known it was a mistake to trust him. Bringing in outsiders is always dangerous, but he’d been so sure he could convince Eli to join the cause. He was a former soldier and current prepper. He saw the state of the world; knew it was only a matter of time before it came to an end. It’s how he’d convinced the man to help build the bunkers in the first place. He never said anything to confirm or deny, but he’d allowed Eli to think that the bunkers were meant for everyone in the county. Or, at least he did up until a few weeks ago when he’d asked him to join the project; fight as one of his Chosen. 

After all Jacob had done to give Eli purpose -- especially after his wife took the kid and ran -- all he got in return was betrayal. The other man had all but spit in his face before sneaking away in the dead of night not just with the blueprints for the Armory, but his siblings’ bunkers as well. He’s been hiding somewhere in the Whitetails ever since, and if Jacob’s intel is to be believed, then it sounds like Eli’s trying to piece together his own army to fight back. 

The very man who helped build their arks -- their salvation -- could just as easily destroy them. Jacob needs to stop that before it happens. He needs to nip that little problem in the bud before Eli gathers enough bodies to launch a counter-attack. 

Eli Palmer needs to die.  

tagging: @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl, @ivymarquis, @jillvalentinesday, @cassietrn, @poetikat, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners, @afarcry5fromstraight, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @madparadoxum, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @voidika, @strangefable (taglist opt in/out)

[sea-owl]

I find it so funny imagining how both the seasonal wives and season brothers act when its not their season. Like yeah you have here the Seasonal wives as cottagecore besties maybe frolicking in the fields doing watercolors and sewing and people watching (with the occasional blackmarketing) just them living their best life and on the other hand the brothers are screaming crying throwing up and GOING OFF at the most minor of inconveniences coz THEY. MISS. THEIR. WIVES. DAMMIT and why can't they live with their husbands huh??? They're married! They should live together! (They are mortal, you fools). But no amount of reason or logic is convincing them that they should be apart from their wives.

Cut to their season and the brother finally reunites with his wife and the first few weeks the wife literally has to pry their husband off of them coz he's stuck to her like glue and will not lift a finger to do their damn job unless his wife is within a cuddling distance (and to him that's like a few inches apart)

Just imagine the shenanigans and absolute chaos in all of this

The wives got to make an itinerary for when it's time for their season or nothings getting done. They don't expect to see their friend for the first month of their season.

Anthony is the most responsible of his brothers when it comes to balancing his need for his wife and actually doing his job. Probably has to do with the fact that he's the eldest of not only the brothers but all the Bridgerton siblings. His season is also the time of the harvest and last-minute hunting, and fishing before everything freezes, and some animals go to hibernate. Fertility also falls in Anthony's responsibilities with most animals mating during his season. That responsibility keeps him focused. But Kate is also there to make sure he relaxes and jumps into piles of leaves once in a while. She can help take part of his load or help be a stress relief. So long as her own temper is ignited.

Benedict is the absolute worst about doing his damn job. He doesn't want to work! He just wants to be with Sophie. More than once, Sophie had to withhold affection so that Benedict didn't rush winter in one storm and then call it good. She also made sure he actually made it snow during winter. While winter is tough, it is also a rest periord for the earth. The other wives did wish Sophie had put her foot down more about Benedict leaving on time, but it's his one bad habit she enables. She likes spending time with her husband, too.

Colin is actually the second most responsible when it comes to his season now, which is surprising because he used to he a total flight risk. Those super late springs and the springs that only seemed to last a week? Yeah, that was Colin avoiding his job. He used to hate that all he was known for was flowers and the nickname charming spring. It wasn't until Penelope pointed out to him that he actually brought life back to the earth that he took a double take at what his job really was. Yes, he brings life back and brings in new life as he helps with the births of animals who mated during fall. Now, that doesn't mean that sometimes he likes to play a joke in delaying spring just a little bit. Only now he hides away with his wife.

Gregory isn't bad about doing his job like Benedict, but he also isn't as strict as Anthony is. He wants to do a good job. He just sometimes goes a little overboard. Extreme heat is one issue he's working on. Gregory sometimes forgets that mortals don't feel the elements the same as immortals. Thankfully, Lucy is there to remind him should he need it, and if Gregory is confused if he is going overboard by mortal standards, he has Lucy to turn to to get a mortals perspective.

Though nothing prepares them for when the first wife dies.

[everythingblogged]

I'm Back!

For the 0 of you that missed me since my first (and only post) about a year ago, I've finally returned from my blogging hibernation! I expected to post all the exciting stuff I wanted to get around to doing here, but I haven't done anything exciting except maybe tinker around with a new camera, if you wanna call that exciting. I hope to be more active here, but don't expect too much from me. I'll do my best to post more, but I'm not making any promises. :)

I figured I'd make my boring return by talking about a boring yet relaxing past time of mine: pipe smoking. "Why pipe smoking?" is a legitimate question, especially when there's quicker and easier ways to get a nic fix? That's a legitimate question to ask anyone that chooses to smoke a pipe in 2025.

So, why smoke a pipe? That's a question every pipe smoker will have their own personal answer for. For me, it's a form of relaxation, it's meditative, and it gives me time to think about the things I'd prefer to think about.

I work in a factory, which is a monotonous job requiring me to install the same part on a vehicle 50 or 100ish times a day (depending on which production line I end up on on any given day). It's hot inside every day of the summer -- and every other day of the year, too. And I work with people that are just stressful to be around much of the time: some are hard to deal with personality-wise, some take their job waaaaaaayyyyy too seriously, and some are just plain dumb. After 8-10 hours of working every day, it's nice to come home, sit on the porch, fill up a pipe with whatever blend I feel like smoking, and sit for the hour or so it takes to puff through a bowl.

Often, I'm not just sitting and smoking. I'll have a Coke Zero to drink and a book or tablet with me. I can read whatever book I'm working through, watch some YouTube videos, listen to Spotify, or write out the next part of a D&D campaign when I'm fortunate enough to have a group to play with (which is less and less often now that I'm becoming an old man :D ).

There's a bit of technique to smoking a pipe, which makes it much more enjoyable once you figure it out. You have to have a blend or blends you enjoy, which is its own adventure in discovering -- and the same goes for finding pipes you enjoy to smoke. But there's also an adventure in learning to fill the pipe, pack it just right so that the tobacco isn't packed too tightly or too loosely, and puffing so that you don't burn the tobacco too hot, which will burn the hell out of your tongue. Once you get the process worked out, it's a nice and relaxing bit of personal time where you can decompress before going to bed and getting up the next day to do it all over again.

Yeah, I know this isn't an exciting post, but maybe this'll get the cogs and wheels in my brain turning so that I can post more exciting stuff. Like, maybe next time I'll remember to bring my phone outside with me so I can take a picture of my pipe instead of only bringing out my tablet, which has a potato-quality camera that I don't really like to use. Also, the tablet is kinda bulky and weird, making it hard to even use the mediocre camera it does have.

[strawberryhierophant]

Rupert and the Analyst

The house does not exist, and so the missing children are not really missing.

Only, this year, the house woke up early. And that means the house's Keeper has been rudely awakened.

He's cruel and heartless. His eyes flash open — the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. It's been a year in hibernation, and he's starved.

As the Keeper leaves the house, silent eyes watch him. Pumpkins. Bright orange, they crowd the porch and line the stone steps that tumble down into the lawn. Their thick orange rinds are carved with jagged grins and blade-like eyes. A subtle fire burns within them. The pumpkins, too, are waking up. They look after the Keeper as his shadowy form goes lumbering up the walkway and disappears out the front gate.

Its cold before dawn. A neon light burns cherry-red in the misty gloom. Even at this hour, hungry patrons crowd the diner's front doors. They eye the hostess closely, hoping the woman will call their names, willing her to summon them inside.

A shadow slinks along the diner's brick facade as a howling wind blows in. The gust lashes at the ears of the little grey people in the crowd, who clutch at their beanies and pull at their scarves. Heavy footsteps move quickly through their midst. The crowd parts. The people move aside, making way without knowing why. Ahead of them, the diner doors open and close with a violent clatter that startles them. They jump. They glance suspiciously at one another, then trade sheepish smiles.

It was surely the gust that rattled the doors.

Inside, it's warm. It's crowded. Piggy's Diner does not take reservations, especially not during the morning rush. But a lone table in the back stands empty, awaiting the Keeper.

He sits down and places his order: T-bone, rare; two eggs sunny-side-up, extra runny.

His stomach whines as he waits. The hunger gnaws at his belly like a wolf pup searching for a teat. Its got teeth, this hunger. Rupert begins to wonder — about the house waking up, about how dangerous it is to be among this many people. He begins to wonder if he will make it to nightfall.

And there's more than hunger in his stomach. There's a sinking feeling. Dread. The house wakes up at dusk, or it's supposed to. Why, then, did it wake up so early? He doesn't know. What he does know is what it means.

The arrival of the Analyst.

Judge and Jury, the Hand of Fate itself, standing between the Keeper and the desperate Wilderness. The Analyst is the only thing that can chill a Keeper's bones.

The meal arrives and is devoured in short order. When the Keeper is through, the table is a greasy mess, covered in brown flecks of gristle and beef, crimson specks of blood. He lifts the plate and tilts it back, dropping the runny eggs down his gullet, relishing the wet, oily feeling and dreaming of the fatty treats and plump goodies to come.

Later, when the waitress and busboy discover the appalling mess at Table 13, they grumble to one another. Both of them search their memories, but neither of them, no matter how hard they try, remembers who was sitting here.

The Keeper is sitting alone in the House, gritting his teeth with hunger, when the knock at the door finally comes.

On the porch, he finds the Analyst, short and solidly-built. The man — if he can be called that — is casually inspecting the eaves and jotting something down in a notepad. There's an unusual aroma about him, which The Keeper faintly detects, but which his nerves do not let him focus on.

"Nicely maintained," the Analyst murmurs, scribbling quickly. When he's done, he punctuates the paper with the violent stab of his pen, then looks over the Keeper's shoulder.

"That is the collection, isn't it?"

The Analyst breezes inside, moving past the Keeper without a word of greeting.

The vintage display cabinet is one of the only real pieces of furniture the Keeper owns, aside from the sofa, the comfortable chair, and a little end table for his lamp. He doesn't even own a bed. He doesn't need one.

"Very nice," the Analyst murmurs, nodding.

The cabinet is dark blue. Long, arched windows on the double doors offer a view of the gruesome items contained inside. The top shelves boast an assortment of jars. In each, a different body part – a finger, an ear, an eyeball — floats in a reddish liquid. Small hooks have been installed in the bottom of one of the lower shelves, and from these hooks dangle bones of various sizes. A collarbone, a jawbone, one small tibia, two fibulas. Everything is neatly-cleaned. Nothing is broken. There is even a small hand with all of the carpals and metacarpals, all held together, every joint connected, by a thin twine of steel.

"It's a shame," the Analyst sighs. He steps back and, for the first time, looks at the Keeper, smiling broadly. "It's good to see you, Rupert," he says, and makes his way to the comfortable chair.

My chair.

Trailing warily behind the Analyst, the Keeper takes a seat on the larger adjacent sofa. He has to sit at an uncomfortable angle in order to look at the Analyst, who for a minute or two says nothing at all, merely flips through his notebook. Sitting this close to the Analyst, the Keeper identifies the familiar scent emanating from his enemy. His mouth begins to salivate.

"Are you a son of a bitch, Rupert?"

The Keeper winces, but says nothing.

"Judging by how well-maintained this place looks, I would have to guess no, you're not. That fine cabinet over there," he gestures with his pen, "indicates a noble spirit. It indicates fine taste. And yet—"

The Analyst stares coldly at the Rupert. Whatever humor that broad face had held before was gone now.

"—you seem intent on being thrown out with the other dogs."

The analyst draws out that last word, showing his teeth. Suddenly, he reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a bit of dried beef. Rupert's jaw goes slack, then tight. A lump jumps into his throat. The Analyst doesn't take a bite of the beef, nor offers it to Rupert. He simply turns it over, inspecting it carelessly. His mind is clearly elsewhere.

"The House is a privilege, Rupert," he finally says. "In return, we ask for nothing from you but loyalty. And that demands certain tributes. Nobody doubts that you have done well that regard, of course."

The beef is inches from his face. Rupert's nostrils begin to sniff involuntarily at it. Sharply exhaling, he wipes his nose, pretending to cough. Drool begins to froth at the corners of his mouth.

"However, more important than tributes is the well-being of the House itself. I'm not telling you anything new, I'm sure."

Rupert swallows. He shakes his head, agreeing. His hands are trembling. Rupert balls them into fists.

"A restless house is a unhappy house. And an unhappy house wakes up from time to time. I'm sure you didn't enjoy being rudely pulled from your slumber this morning? And this early in the day?"

Too early to properly feed.

"But how much worse do you think it is for us? The Homeowners."

A long whine travels through Rupert's bowels. It's practically a howl in the quiet living room. The Analyst leans forward in his chair. He looks at the stick of dried beef in his hand, then at Rupert.

"What's wrong, Rupert? Hungry?"

Thick threads of drool are hanging heavily from Rupert's wide lips. When the Analyst tosses the stick of beef at him, Rupert cannot help himself. He jumps forward and snaps it out of the air.

Ah!

The flavor is delectable, more savory than Rupert could have dreamed. His teeth chew it to pieces, spreading a buttery warmth spreading over his tongue and into his gums.

Exquisite! Is this what the Homeowners eat year-round?

For a moment, Rupert's hunger is driven back. He whines just like a beaten dog, grateful for its master's mercy. Through misty eyes, Rupert finds the Analyst staring at him.

"This house is a privilege." He practically spits the words at him. "When I throw a dog a bone, I expect he does his duty."

The hunger slowly returns. Rupert can feel it begin to pull at his intestines, and he doubles over slightly. He can't even bring himself to stand as the Analyst rises from his comfortable chair and marches towards the front door, which he opens before pausing at the threshold.

"Keep the House fed," he says, glaring at Rupert. "Keep it content. Or you'll be seeing me again."

The door closes. Rupert is panting. Hunger is rearing its head again. His stomach feels terribly empty. He knows the Analyst's threat is sincere. He's made some error, some dire mistake. He needs to fix it.

But first, he needs to feed.

[a-straying]

Happy birthday, Vesper! 🖤 Had the honor of illustrating the cover for the Elysium Delivery Service's Teacup Zine! Feel free to check them out on twitter!

[nowoyas]

Edible Arrangements 37

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A/N: someone remind me to revamp the tumblr formatting for literally all of these chapters both for consistency and so that the titles are actually a thing on tumblr rather than just ao3

Summary: Some pieces are picked up. Some are put back together. Some fall back apart.

Warnings: sad kitten :(

Word Count: 3700 words

This big house holds more empty space in it than space it holds.

Izuku has held onto it, all these years, out of love, out of respect. He has held onto it because he must. He has held onto it because of the memories it doesn't hold.

His mother never made a meal in this kitchen. Never stocked the freezer with emergency cookie dough in case someone had a bad day. Yagi's car never entered the driveway, and Yagi never paused at the door to kiss his mother and ask how her day went. When he showed up for the first time, he wondered if it was worse that they had never gotten the chance to make memories here. His childhood home had become a teenaged apartment had been thrown mercilessly back onto the market the day after he’d come to collect all the boxes, everything already packed for a move that never came.

This house had only ever been his, and then it had been his and yours, and now it didn’t feel like anyone’s. He’d rot in there for days if only Sbeve would let him, the silence settling thick around him like fog.

And then there had come the knock on the door, followed soon after by the door creaking open. He hadn’t bothered fixing it.

Part of him wants to imagine the footsteps belong to you. Wants to imagine you’re coming home, that he’d done something wrong and you’d remembered and you’re coming back to him.

And then he’s sick to his stomach with worry at the idea of you being here and knowing who he was when he inevitably died, and he hoped instead that it was his sire, returning after all these years to finally just kill him already. It’d be a fitting end for a monster who deserved to be alone.

Sbeve was meowing downstairs, getting closer. Whoever had entered this haunted house was following him further in—across the living room, up the stairs, down the hall. Footsteps stopped at his door, and a plaintive meow urged the intruder inside.

Maybe it really was you, come home.

The door creaked as it opened. Izuku nearly hisses as the light from the hall falls on his face. The sound that meets his ears is not your voice, worrying for him, nor even a gasp.

It’s a long-suffering sigh. Honestly, too long-suffering to match with its owner.

“You look horrible.”

He doesn’t reply. A single green eye is all that peeks out from among the blankets and mass of fluff atop his head, watching the silhouette stare at him from the doorway.

“You need to drink something.”

Izuku simply stares at him, hoping he’ll get the message. Besides, by now, he’s sluggish enough that movement is hardly an option. Maybe he’ll get to find out whether vampires hibernate soon. It’s science he’s doing, not depression. Really. He might even write it down.

Tenya strides across the room, flicking on the light as he goes. “This isn’t negotiable. Stay alive at least long enough for us to kill him, and then I can take the cat and you can do whatever you want.” He sets a blood bag carelessly on the bed, right in front of Izuku’s face. It sloshes with a warmth of life that has Izuku’s stomach somersaulting.

If vampires can get sick, he is sick, and the thought of drinking that… that stuff has it worsening by the moment.

“Drink it or I’ll make you. I’m not going to kill him alone.”

“You could.”

“You and I both know that if one person alone could kill him, he’d be dead already.”

He sighs. He turns his face away from the light.

“I hope you know that I’m not joking about forcing you to drink it.”

He grumbles in return.

There’s a pause where he thinks maybe Tenya is about to leave. Then, he’s being manhandled until his face is accessible, and dammit, he doesn’t have the strength left to do much more than yell about it until the blood bag is pierced onto his fangs. Tenya has him held down, unable to do anything but nearly drown in the blood now flooding his mouth until his assailant brings up a hand to help control the flow.

And shit, it’s good. He drinks like he’s spent days walking through the desert, and to be fair, he has been depriving himself, so the comparison isn’t completely outlandish. Sbeve has had him to sip off of; he has had no one.

Tenya squeezes the bag with some force, and sparks fly off Izuku in retaliation. He has to force himself to dial back his quirk before he breaks furniture, the ceiling, or bones as he chokes on the blood, and then, he’s sitting up and snatching the bag from Tenya.

“Fuck you,” he mutters.

Tenya merely rolls his eyes. “I’m not letting you decide to back out now that you’ve done the first part, and you’re not the only person who [name]’s forgotten. You’re going to pull yourself together long enough to kill this man, and then you can do whatever you want. In the meantime, I am not going to be the only person gathering information on him, and you’re going to get out of this house.”

“Since when were you in charge of me? I do what I want.”

“You don’t want to do anything right now. And in case me shoving a bag into your mouth wasn’t clear enough, I don’t care what you want. Do you want the Death Adder dead?”

“Of course I—“

“Then get the hell out of here and work for it. We need information, and you need to not rot in bed while I do all the work.”

He glares, but he doesn’t protest. Tenya wrinkles his nose. “The first thing you’re doing is finishing that blood and taking a shower.”

Izuku snorts. “What, going to force me to do that, too?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He has the unfortunate sense that Tenya will, in fact, manhandle him into the shower fully clothed if he must. Or, given the way the past few minutes has gone, he’s going to throw him out on the lawn and blast him with the garden hose. Best not to tempt it. “Whatever.” He throws his head back and finishes his meal. If he doesn’t have a choice, he supposes he’ll just have to force himself to keep moving.

~

from: stodo@uofo.edu

Subject: Hakamada’s course

March 7th, 2051

Dr. Midoriya,

I hope this email finds you well. There has been an incident with one of the professors in your department. Dr. Hakamada has been hospitalized and will be receiving medical attention until further notice. I am unable to divulge further details at this time. Until his recovery, I am hoping that you will agree to take over his summer session courses. Please respond and let me know at your earliest convenience. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call.

Regards,

Shouto Todoroki

Chancellor

~

Despite Tenya’s best efforts, Izuku spends his time wandering the house in a haze, although he does allow himself the luxuries of drinking, showering, and maybe even seeing the sunlight when he’s not worrying about his classes. The email certainly hasn’t helped matters—he can’t say for certain, but it does sound like his bastard sire may have been involved with it.

And yet, he needs to come up with an answer. And teaching classes in-person has never been his answer. And yet…

He doesn’t know what to do. He wanders the halls of his empty house, wondering when last he saw Sbeve was. Yesterday? Two days ago? The days pass in a blur. He can barely tell anyone what day it is at all—his only point of reference is that damned email.

“Sbeve?” he calls out into the halls. His voice is raw with disuse. Tenya’s the only one he’s spoken to in a while. “Where are you, buddy?”

No meow responds. A twinge of panic buds within him. Did Sbeve escape? Outdoor cats are already disastrous for the environment, let alone thirsty outdoor vampire cats who are somehow even better suited to killing than before, and it’s not like he’s gone out of his way to get his door fixed. Actually, he’s pretty sure it’s still just barely on the hinges.

So now, rather than wander aimlessly, he’s wandering with a purpose, listening out closely for the sound of his kitten.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he finds Sbeve. The relief doesn’t last long. There he is, sleeping curled against your bedroom door, which has remained closed since the day he enthralled you. He's stuck. Sbeve is sitting there, missing you, mournfully staring up at the closed door, and Izuku did this to him.

He's awful. He's so, so awful.

He did this. He got rid of you. You're safe now, he has to tell himself that. No matter what Hitoshi or any of the others tells him. Even Tenya supported his decision, so he has to be in the right here. Sbeve will just have to understand.

Still, as he sits there, crumpled on the carpet, crying (really crying) for the first time since you left (since he made you leave) Sbeve walks up to him. The kitten sits, and stares, and tilts his head. Then, he's crawling into Izuku's lap and curling up there with one tiny mew.

"Do you think I should try getting out of this place, too?" Izuku asks him.

Sbeve purrs in his lap, but doesn't lift his head. Izuku brings a hand up to gently pet him.

"Yeah. Maybe I should. Staying in here all day just reminds me of them."

That earns him another meow. Sbeve presses his head into Izuku's hand. He lets out a bitter laugh. "Maybe I should get the front door fixed, first."

Another meow, this time with a blank stare that reads, at least to Izuku, as: 'you think?'

He scoops up Sbeve, rolls his shoulders, and turns to look over the banister at the broken door. "Well, let's get to work, Sbeve. Think my summer semester students would like to meet you? Think you could handle meeting them without biting anyone?"

As Izuku parades him around on the search for his no-doubt dead cell phone, Sbeve lets out one final meow.

~

from: imido@uofo.edu

Subject: re: Hakamada's course

March 9th, 2051

Dr. Todoroki,

I'm sorry to hear about Dr. Hakamada! I'll gladly take over his summer semester courses. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to assist with the transition or if there's any files I can glance over to aid me in taking over his courses. I am, of course, curious to learn what happened to Dr. Hakamada, but I trust that that information will be divulged as it becomes necessary. Regardless, I can take over all needed courses while he recovers!

Regards,

Dr. Izuku Midoriya (he/him/his)

Department of Quirk Studies

University of Ossenfelder

~

"Where do you want me to put this?" Hitoshi asks.

"[name]'s stuff, right?" Mina shouts after him. "Back room's fine!"

Hitoshi sets down the box, and then they're both heading back out to gather more boxes. On the way down the stairs, Mina sighs. "Thank you for all your help, Hitoshi. You didn't have to come help us move."

"Nah, it's the least I can do. How're they doing?"

"At the main office with Tsuyu, signing stuff with the landlord and sorting out rent. Tsuyu and I are going to split their rent until they're back on their feet. ...Whenever that is."

The apartment had been a good investment. Mina, Tsuyu, and [name] had talked about it before, when the three of them had good jobs and were striking out of college dorms and all that. The only reason it hadn't worked out before had been [name]'s financial troubles, and with those only worsening now that Dr. Izuku Midoriya had come along to fuck up their life, the two who weren't catatonic had decided they'd just have to make it work. [name] couldn't sleep on Hitoshi's couch forever, after all.

The place itself was nice. Almost too nice, actually. It was right next to campus, with good parking, decent space, and no furnishings, which really meant no ugly furnishings to put up with for the next year.

"Well, they've been getting a lot better. I don't even have to brainwash them to get them to eat anymore."

"That's true. Thank you for all that, by the way. I don't know where we'd be without you."

"No, I'm just glad to help. Sucks that I can't do anything more."

She shakes her head as they arrive at the car. "You shouldn't have to. Honestly, you're already being a kickass friend just by being here. Better than someone I know."

He rolls his eyes. "Which over-financed vampire are you talking about?"

"Neito has an excuse. He's got some big family thing to deal with, and at least he's been helping. I don't think we could have found a place this good on our own. The other two, though? Don't get me started."

"Yeah. I get why Izuku's too cowardly to show his face, but Tenya?"

"He doesn't trust other vampires. I think because of what he did to [name]."

Another box, heaved onto the floor. Hitoshi places his own down, pausing to catch his breath. "How are you not out of breath right now?”

"What, because of the boxes? I dance. This is nothing."

"Yeah, but that's not exactly weight lifting!"

"No, but it is dancing."

"Great. Thanks for clearing that up."

"Anyways, I just hope that all of this helps. The crisis counseling and school psych and the aide and all that sound great, but... I don't know. I'm not sure anything can bring back the [name] we know except breaking the thrall those idiots put on them."

"No, but they're barely in a place for us to try it right now. At the very least, this keeps them moving a bit until they get to where we can break it."

She sighs. "Yeah... do you think this Ochako girl's going to be much help? I haven't met her yet."

"If nothing else, they'll be able to get back to taking classes."

Yeah. That was the goal. Preparing [name] for some bullshit professional life while they were only just regaining use of their arm and showing only the barest minimums of emotion on a good day.

"One summer semester's a good trial run, too. Give them the chance to ease back into being a real person."

"They're real now."

"You know what I mean. It's a victory if they eat when reminded to at this point."

"I know." She sighs. "I do."

The next trip up the stairs is taken in silence. At the top, they find [name] and Tsuyu, just opening the door.

"Hey, you two!" Mina greets, putting on her more usual cheery tone. "How was the office?"

[name] has a hint of confusion on their face. "Weird."

"Weird how? Did something happen?"

"Someone prepaid all of [name]'s rent for the next year," Tsuyu answers. "Apparently the landlord received a check from the university. The 'excessive hardship scholarship fund' for students facing undue hardship."

"Are my issues excessive...?" [name] mumbles softly.

"No, babe," Mina says. "But that's good! If nothing else, at least you get some financial compensation for everything."

"Um, yeah. I guess it is."

"And tomorrow, you get to meet with your aide for the summer semester! I've heard she's really nice. She should be great!"

"Yeah."

[name] brushes past her. In the absence of a couch for the time being, they find a spot on the floor and sit, fiddling with their cell phone. They haven't yet been cleared for things like unpacking, not with the state of their shoulder.

Mina tries not to sigh too audibly. "I really hope this works. I miss my best friend."

~

from: uofomsgs@uofo.edu

Subject: A message from the Chancellor

March 16th, 2051

Fellow Ravens,

I am deeply saddened to inform you about the loss of one of our faculty members, Dr. Tsunagu Hakamada of the Quirk Studies department.

Dr. Hakamada was an exceptional professor who took plenty of time to work closely with his students. Aside from the courses he taught, he was active in aiding students via the tutoring center in a number of subjects, and his passion for education took many of the students he mentored farther than they imagined. Dr. Hakamada also aided in the creation and perpetuation of the Consumer Apparel and Design course's semi-annual fashion show, as a mentor, sponsor, and friend.

Our thoughts rest with Dr. Hakamada's friends and family, those who cared for and loved him, and any Ravens touched by the loss of this bright mind.

Visitation for Dr. Hakamada will be held from 6:00-8:00 PM on Saturday, March 18th, at Respite Funeral Home, 48th Street. A memorial celebration will additionally take place at 5:30 PM Monday, March 19th, in front of the Kevin University Center.

The University of Ossenfelder Counseling Center is available to provide support to any students and other members of the campus community affected by the loss of Dr. Hakamada. The Dean of Students Office may also be a useful support resource for students and may be reached during office hours Monday through Friday.

If you are registered for any courses taught by Dr. Hakamada this semester or during the summer or fall sessions, your registration is still valid. Dr. Izuku Midoriya has graciously agreed to take over all of Dr. Hakamada's duties in the Quirk Studies department until further notice while a more permanent replacement is sought. If you have any questions, please feel free to reach out to your academic advisor or department head via the student portal.

Sincerely,

Shouto Todoroki

Chancellor, University of Ossenfelder

~

Up until this exact moment, Izuku had reasoned that this was doable.

Dr. Hakamada's classes had been canceled for a short time, both to give the students a chance to recover and to give Izuku the chance to take over without missing a beat. Not that missing a beat wasn't inevitable—he wasn't exactly the on-campus professor type. In fact, he's pretty sure he looks more like a TA than a professor even on the best of days, although the haggard look he's been sporting lately might add some age to his countenance. When the classes had started up again, he'd done his best, and he's pretty sure he's even doing a good job! It's not that he doesn't know the information, after all. In fact, he's quite sure he could overtake the rest of the department in knowledge, given the chance! He's just not the lecturing type. Especially not when “take over the summer classes” turns into “take over all classes while maintaining your previous workload”.

So he pressed onward, he let himself be persuaded to move into Dr. Hakamada's office after his family collected his personal effects, and he did his best to help his new batch of students adjust to the loss of their professor while not letting his online courses fall too far behind. He already hadn't been sleeping, so not much had changed.

And, in his few moments of spare time, he'd found some information pointing to a cause for  Dr. Hakamada's death. Perfectly legally, of course. For sure.

All he'll reveal is that a mysterious set of bite marks had been found on him when he'd arrived at the hospital, and that he hadn't survived too long after being admitted.

He can't say with any certainty that it was the Death Adder. For one thing, his bastard sire is typically pretty good about killing them completely. It could be a result of Hakamada's quirk, or else the Death Adder made some kind of mistake. In any case, having been the heir to a long line of designers, he fit the usual line of victims perfectly, so Izuku was content to mark it as a sign the Death Adder was hanging out for a while.

That alone was a comfort and a curse. He could handle that soon.

But this?

The papers on his new desk in his new office glare up at him. Most of what he'd received had been standard paperwork. Things to help facilitate him taking over the courses. This particular folder, however, had not been that.

[full name] is the first thing he registers on the page. The rest of it comes in waves as he reads. List of accommodations. Student will have an aide for note-taking and emotional support purposes. A section for a list of triggers, followed only by the words "see attached", implying the list is too long to fit on the eight lines afforded to it. History of being targeted by violent attacks. Traumatic memory loss. Catatonia.

The more he reads it, the worse he feels. And yet, he can't stop reading it.

He had convinced himself that [name]'s friends had been overblowing the whole thing. That, given a day or two, they would be back to their old, perfect selves, and things would be fine, they just wouldn't remember him. He can't imagine that they let them take this course knowingly. No, registration would have been over a month ago. [name] had registered for Dr. Hakamada's course, and now, here he was, taking it over. He hopes, sincerely hopes, that their friends read the email and saw he'd be taking over, that they pushed to get them reassigned to some other course section. Obviously, he can't do anything about this. How would that look? Sorry, Dean of Students, I'm rejecting this student from my course because they are simply not the right fit. No, it has nothing to do with the fact that they're physically disabled due to recovering from a stabbing and emotionally shattered for reasons unknown.

At the end of the page, more words flash up at him in bits and pieces.

Please contact student through aide, Ochako Uraraka, at (xxx) xxx-xxxx to set up meetings prior to summer semester.

God. How is he ever supposed to do this?

~

Izuku to [name] Protection Squad at 10:53 AM

Izuku: you were right.

Izuku was removed from group [name] Protection Squad.

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[loversandantiheroes]

So I'm overdue to finally give a little life/health update since I went on my writing hiatus. I had hoped to be able to put off any sort of updates until I was finally able to get my ass back in the saddle and writing again, but that's not really on the table just yet.

I'll spare everybody the long and boring details, but I've finally been able to start seeing a doctor again and get the ball rolling, albeit clunkily, on my mental health. I've been back on antidepressants for a few months now, and last month I finally got an ADHD diagnosis and started meds for that. Unfortunately the ADHD meds have been a lot harder to adjust to, and combined with the lingering fatigue from my depression I'm kind of back into lump mode lately.

In addition to all that fun stuff I got unexpectedly sick back in June for a few days, which turned out to be Baby's First Gallstone. Had a bunch of imaging done since August, and I'm currently scheduled to go in to get my gall bladder removed on the 28th of this month. This'll be my first surgery since I was five, so suffice it to say a ho is Nervous. They also want to keep me in overnight for observation since dad doesn't qualify as someone who can reliably look after me, so I'm going to be missing out on a couple days of work at least. I'll be spending the next week in panic-cleaning mode in preparation for the physical recovery, but on the monetary end of it the chances of me having to ask for help buying groceries in December are definitely higher than zero. Cross that bridge when we come to it.

With all this bundled up together its kind of looking like this winter is gonna be a hibernation season for me. But honestly I think I need it. My body needs some rest while my brain goes through a backlog of critical updates.

So yeah. Still here, but still not quite back up to snuff. Here's hoping for next year. 🤞

[2dmenenthusiast]

I can't remember if I sent this to you already but could I request headcanons for aizawa, hizashi and Toshinori finding their s/o that has a chipmunk quirk that makes her fall into hibernation when it's too cold (kinda like tsu) but when the guys find her with her heart rate low and her breathing shallow maybe they freak a little bc she didn't tell them about that part of her quirk yet

omggggg this idea is literally so cute I got so excited when I first read it. Also thank you love for comin through with the requests, I really appreciate it! <3 I also hella struggled cuz like, what can someone with a chipmunk quirk do? Stuff their cheeks? Climb up trees? Also I legit forgot what a chipmunk even looked like I had to look it up lmaoooo im so dumb it hurts

Aizawa is an intimidating fella, okay

So when you first told him about your quirk, you were lowkey embarrassed?

Like, here’s this grown-ass man with a badass quirk who is more than capable of taking down villains and defending himself, and here you are just-

🐿️

But you know what’s great about this man? He couldn’t give less of a shit about your quirk or anything like that. He strikes me as the type to care more about personality than anything else

concealing your quirk is fairly easy. People probably wouldn’t even know you had one if it wasn’t for the small fluffy ears popping out of the top of your head, and even then you could just cover them with a hat

But that doesn’t mean you don’t experience the effects of your own quirk just because it’s subtle

You have a mutant type quirk, so you experience certain things that actual chipmunks do

Sometimes you won’t even notice that you’re stuffing your cheeks to full capacity with whatever you’re eating before Aizawa has to cut you off and just be like

“y/n. Chew.”

Or when you’re rushing, you’re usually going so fast that Aizawa can barely even see you zooming from room to room

you can also get kinda skittish at times, your ears twitching whenever you hear a noise that sounds weird or out of place, and you’ll just look at Aizawa with wide eyes until he checks out what made a noise that he could barely hear

“y/n, it was just some kids outside.”

“Oh... sorry, Sho.”

he wants to be frustrated, but he knows it’s not your fault. And honestly? He finds you so cute that he can’t really stay mad at you

So he’ll just let out a huff before patting your head lovingly, grazing his fingers over your ears (Which he KNOWS are sensitive, that asshole)

Experiencing long periods of deep sleep is also a thing. You wouldn’t call it hibernation cuz you still have to do normal, everyday things, but there are times during the winter where you’ll sleep for a few days in a row and only get up to go to the bathroom or eat

And since you can’t actually burrow into the floor of your home, you usually make a blanket fort in the corner of your bedroom and stuff all of the pillows and blankets you can in there until it’s nice and warm, ready for you to bury yourself in

and you might’ve left that little part of your quirk out when you moved in together. whoops

So when Shouta comes home and sees the living room couch void of all of its pillows, he’s not expecting to walk into your shared bedroom and see you curled up in a blanket fort

he’s a bit curious at first, just kinda looking at you like “All right, I guess this is normal?”

and he’ll crouch down and kinda examine you for a bit before he eventually wonders if you’re even breathing? You’re burried under blankets, so he can’t really see your chest moving

eventually he’ll check and see that your breathing is abnormally slow and he kinda just... pauses and checks again to make sure he’s not going crazy.

and he wont deny that he kinda freaks out at first, his immediate thought being that he needs to get you out of there, but the second he grabs the blankets to pull them off of you he’s like wait... hold up.

then it all clicks

you’re a mutant with a chipmunk quirk...

c h i p m u n k

safe to say he’s relieved, so he just lets you be and goes about his day. 

When you wake up a few hours later to go to the bathroom, you come out of the bedroom with your clothes practically on backwards, rubbing at your eyes and stumbling past Aizawa like he’s not even there. And when you’re done, it’s right back to sleep you go

“Back to bed?” Aizawa would ask as he watches you with an amused smirk on his face

“Mhm.”

“Okay. Goodnight, y/n”

“Mm’night.

Listen, when he first heard of your quirk, he thought it was the cutest shit ever

“Your quirk is Chipmunk?! That’s SOOOOOOOO CUUUUUUUTE!”

No he’s legit your number one hype man. If you think your quirk is lame, he’s literally shouting at you how cool he thinks you are.

“You can stuff so much food in your mouth, y/n! And that’s pretty dope if you ask me! I’m totally jealous!”

speaking of food, he’ll just randomly ask you to shove as much as you can of one thing in your cheeks until they’re at full capacity.

“Hey y/n, think you can shove this whole pack of jumbo marshmallows in your cheeks?”

“But... I just bought those :(”

“I’ll buy you more, LET’S DO THIS!!!”

also asks you the dumbest questions omg. You don’t know if he’s genuinely curious or if he’s just doing it to piss you off

“So do you just eat nuts all day?”

“You’ve seen me eat, Hizashi. No.”

“Do you prefer to sleep in trees?”

“That would be extremely uncomfortable.”

“Ooh you’d probably be great frieds with Kamui Woods then.”

“Did you not hear what I just said?”

He also REALLY likes your ears. Like an unhealthy amount? Whenever you’re around he literally wont stop touching them and even tugs on them playfully until you’re swatting at his hands and telling him to go away

He can’t help that they’re so cute :(

so on a particuallry cold day in winter when he has to go to work at the school, he leaves your home while you’re sleeping, only to come home hours later to find you... still sleeping?

You haven’t moved an inch the entire time he’s been gone, so needless to say, he’s a litle concerned.

and when he checks to see if you’re still alive only to discover your heart rate is super slow, he’s A LOT concerned

His brain just goes to the most dramatic thing he can think of, which is that you’re in some weird coma and need to wake up

so rather than, i dont know, gently shaking you awake like a normal person, he grabs you buy your shoulders and starts shaking you violently while shouting your name loud as fuck

“Y/NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!”

you literally wake up so violently, you sit right up and shove him off of you before asking what’s wrong with him, pretty sure you’ve officially gone deaf

He then explains that he thought you were in a coma or something cuz your heartbeat was so slow, and at that point you just roll your eyes because of course he would come up with this ridiculous conclusion

“Hizashi, my quirk is chipmunk and it’s a mutation quirk.”

He doesn’t even get what you’re getting at, just tilting his head in confusion as he squints at you.

“What do chipmunks do in the winter, babe?”

Cue more confused squinting

“Oh my god, they hibernate, you headass.”

it finally clicks and the look on his face makes it seem like he just learned the secret of the universe, and afterwards he’s going on about how cool that is while you just roll your eyes and lay back down to try and go back to sleep, bringing the blanket over your head to try and drown him out

He eventually gets the hint and leaves, but after a while, you kinda feel bad for blowing up on him. He was just concerned and didn’t fully understand your quirk

so letting out a huff, you pull the blanket down and call out his name, to which he immediately runs to you at the sound of, asking you what you need

you just wordlessly lift up the blanket to expose the empty side of the bed, and oh boy, the size of the grin he gets on his face is unmatched

immediately throws off his hero costume so that you can both be comfortable and jumps into bed with you, holding you impossibly close

you fall asleep in a matter of minutes while he just looks at you fondly, hand soothingly rubbing your back.

Just like the other two, he finds you incredibly cute. Like mans is in love, okay?

everytime he sees your little ears twitch, he just gets the strongest urge to touch them, but he never does without your consent becuase he knows how sensitive they are.

“Uh... y/n, do you mind if I... touched your ears?” 

Baby probably feels so awkward asking ugh PLEASE REASSURE HIM

“Oh? Yeah, of course, Toshi. Knock yourself out.”

oooh he’s excited. He’ll be super gentle about it, just lightly grazing them with his fingers before gently rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger

and at that point you’re littlerally melting, practically falling into him because him caressing your ears like this feels absolutely amazing

When he sees how it’s affecting you, he immediately becomes a blushing mess and apologizes, but you just hug him and tell him it’s okay and that you liked it

yeah he definitely rubs your ears whenever you’re feeling stressed or anxious because it’s become a quick way to relax you

only when he does it though. If anyone else randomly touches your ears, you get kinda uncomfortable

Just because they don’t look human doesn’t mean they still weren’t a part of you, dammit

Anyways, one day when you’re waiting for Toshi to come back home, you’ve got yourself wrapped up like a burrito in your blanket, sitting on the couch as you watched tv

it had been snowing all day, but luckily Toshinori had turned up the thermostat before he left, remembering how you mentioned that you’re not a huge fan of the cold

unfortunately for you, the harsh weather had no trouble taking out the power, leaving you in the dark and the cold

it didn’t take long for the cold to start seeping in through the cracks in the windows, and you quickly began to grow tired before you inevitibly passed out on the couch, still wrapped tightly in your blanket

When Toshi gets home and sees you on the couch, his first reaction is “aw, how cute.”

but then when he comes up to you and starts calling out your name to try and wake you up and you just won’t, and then he notices how much your breathing has slowed down, he quickly growns concerened.

He’s not in full panic mode yet, but he’s getting there, and he’s quick to crouch down to your level and grab your shoulders to start shaking you to wake you up

which you do, blinking groggily at him like you weren’t just in full hibernation mode

“Oh... Hey, Toshi,” you mumble, and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down so that you can nuzzle yourself into his warm chest

He’s not able to ask you about what happened to you before you’ve already fallen back asleep, and when the power comes back on a few minutes later, he does a quick google search on chipmunks and mutant quirks before putting two and two together

Now he’s thinking of all the ways he could make you something to burrow into during those especially cold winters

[lawslessons]

hi hi! i js found your blog and omg its amazing??? especially what you wrote for Sabos soulmate vv mucho gusto😤👌🏽

could i request B from the soulmate alpha for Law? i feel like Law is the last person to believe in soulmates and love and all that bs, but when he sees tattoos he’s all too familiar with on someone else... yeah! he probably thinks they’re some intense groupie at first until one of his men brings up the whole soulmate business. anywho, hope all goes well! :D

Law x Reader - Rivers of Ink

I agree with that! He would be a stubborn man for sure. Honestly I was a little self indulgent with what I wrote for this, I do hope you forgive me if this isn’t what you were expecting. Today is February 17th and tomorrow, the 18th, is actually my birthday so I made this one extra long as a mini gift to you all! I hope you enjoy this, dear. I had a fantastic time writing this!

Warnings: Slight NSFW, Love at First Sight

Synopsis: Nightmares plagued the doctor every night, nothing seemed to be able to remedy his affliction. But could one artistic individual on an island hold the answer to his worries? A sudden and unexpected whirlwind of a romance, Law struggles to see and accept the fact that he was falling hard so quickly. 

“Haven’t you heard that tattoos don’t age that well?” Someone whispered into Law’s ear as he walked down the dark alleyway. The lights flickered above him, moths swarmed around the light until it was barely visible, it served no purpose in being there. He rolled his eyes and turned his head to see who was there, but he was unable to see anyone. 

“Marking up your pretty body like that? What a shame,” Another sneered, the words grew louder and soon it turned into chanting, it was louder, louder and louder. His ears began to ring, laughter pierced his ears and soon Law felt like he was falling. 

Law gasped as he woke up with a start and clutched his chest. His eyes were wide as he felt around his bedside table for his glass of water. He chugged the remnants of what was inside while he used his free hand to wipe the sweat off of his brow and onto his palm instead. He felt clammy and gross from waking up so suddenly, his eyes felt dry and heavy, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that easily after what he experienced. Leaving his bed, he grabbed his jacket and left his room to go to one of the main hallways of his submarine so he could look out at the ocean. The ocean was beautiful, they all said. But in the night, the normally blue ocean was a vast expanse of black ink. He stared out at the ink and saw that there was nothing notable to look at. The ocean was dark, the submarine was dark, nothing seemed able to emit much light here. He didn’t even know his purpose in coming out here, his nightmare seemed to have more light than the hallway he was currently in. Dismayed, he grabbed onto one of the walls and groped his way back to his room before he laid down on his bed and did his best to force himself to sleep. He was blessed to not have anymore dreams, or nightmares that night about his inked up skin. He woke up and overheard his crew talking about how they noticed an island on the radar and how they were going to go up to restock on some supplies and to also get some fresh air as well. Law made himself get ready for the day, he couldn’t let anyone else find out about his restless night.

Law went up to the deck for the first time in weeks when they finally reached land. The warm air on his tanned cheeks caught him off guard, he felt disoriented after coming out of his underwater hibernation. The captain glanced around the shore of the island with his steely eyes and saw how the island was rather boisterous and full of life. The islanders were walking around, laughing, flying kites that were covered in extravagant designs. 

“I’m going for a walk,” Law said as he left the submarine and stretched his arms up in the air, he watched as some people ate snacks while some were walking and were just enjoying the island’s temperate weather. One thing he noticed was how no one was alone, and how everyone - except for the children of course - had exquisite, matching tattoos that covered their arms and legs, backs and necks. Anywhere there was space, unique designs covered people’s bodies and it caught Law’s attention. He started to “people watch”, he noticed how this one woman had a long, intricate dragon tattooed on her arm, and how her girlfriend had a matching one on the same arm in the exact same place. He watched as a mother and father had matching ones on their wrists, it was the same with everyone he met. Law’s curiosity soon took the better of him and he approached one of the happy couples and awkwardly looked down at them. 

“Those tattoos… where are they from?” Law asked as he pointed to the intricate ink snaking down their bodies. The woman answered for the two of them and told him about a tattoo artist who lived on this island who specialized in “Soul Tattoos.” While he got no further elaboration on that, he decided to follow the directions he was given by the polite couple and soon found himself knocking on the door of a random shop. The door soon opened and Law was greeted by something… strange, familiar. He looked down at their hands and noticed how death ran across their fingers, and how from under the collar of their shirt, he could see the start of a large tribal heart. Law brushed it off as a major coincidence as he slowly walked inside of the shop and looked down at them. 

“I saw some of your work out on the streets, it’s really well done,” Law said as he looked down at the person in front of him. 

“You did? Oh, thank you,” They smiled as they walked back into their shop and showed off some of the work they had on the walls of the shop. “I’m proud of the work I do, and especially for people like that? This? I really do enjoy it,” Law studied how their lips curved into a smile and how they parted when they let out a small breath. 

“What work are you talking about?” Law asked, he knew that they were all tattoos and he appreciated the artistry behind it, but other than that he wasn’t sure about what they were referring to. 

“I do Soul Tattoo’s they’re all about -- “ Before they were able to say more, a clock chimed behind them and they looked over at it. 

“Oh, closing time -- “ They looked over at Law and suddenly sparks coursed through their entire being. His steely eyes pierced straight into their own like a sword, their heart begin to race as they maintained eye contact with one another for a prolonged period of time. Their breathing slowed as they took in the sight of the captain in front of them. The tattoos were the first thing that caught their attention. Finally... he was here. Before they could even speak, Law looked away from them and at the door in some discomfort. 

“It’s alright, goodnight,” Law said as he went to leave the shop before he heard any objections from the person who was there. As he walked in the dimmed streets, he looked at the inky sky and couldn’t help but think about their tattoos. The knuckle tattoos were similar to his own, he glanced down and was surprised to see that it could have been the exact same thing. Death on his knuckles, the ornate tribal style tattoo heart on his chest, the more he thought about it, the more perplexed and creeped out he became. He went back to his submarine, that confused look mixed in with his usual cold look caught the eyes of some of his subordinates. Bepo looked at his captain and quickly stood up to give him a hug. 

“Captain! Welcome back!” Bepo cheered as he hugged the tall man, Law didn’t resist the hug but he didn’t hug him back either. Bepo noticed how his captain was more stone cold tonight than other nights which confused the poor bear. “Captain? Are you alright?” Bepo asked him. 

“I’m fine,” Law assured as he pulled away from his warm companion and looked up at the sky for a moment. “I met someone strange,” Law said as he studied the stars with his eyes next, the mixing of the bright white against the blueish black was a wonderful contrast. Mindless thoughts, Law was trying to distract himself again. 

“What do you mean?” Bepo decided to ask him. 

“Someone with the same tattoos as mine,” Law shared as he glanced over at Bepo. Bepo was confused too, he looked over at Penguin who was taking in the cool, night air. 

“The same as yours? That’s a little weird,” Bepo agreed, and Law was glad that he wasn’t crazy for thinking otherwise. He didn’t understand why they had the same ones as him. 

“Maybe they’re some weird follower of mine or something,” Law grumbled, that thought upset him. Bepo noticed the upset look, but he had to agree with his captain, it was strange. 

“You did gain a lot of popularity after the Doflamingo incident,” Bepo reminded him. That seemed to almost settle it for Law, he had a stalker, a fan and that made a weird chill shoot down his spine. Was that the shock he felt from earlier? No, that was more powerful, the captain stared out at the ocean with a blank, thinking expression until he heard Penguin clearing his throat to speak. 

“I don’t think it’s a weird fan,” Penguin said as he continued to relax on the deck. Bepo and Law both fell silent and looked over at Penguin for more of an explanation, one he was happy to give. “Well, I was talking to some of the locals and they told me about how people who are supposedly soulmates would have the same tattoos on their body and how they would always get big pieces so they could find them easier,” Penguin explained. Law listened to what he said and couldn’t help but think that his words were ridiculous, that story didn’t even make any sense. Soulmates? Partners for life? As if. 

“I’m going to bed,” Law simply said as he went to go to his quarters. But the seed of doubt was already planted, and as he slept, he couldn’t help but think about that possibility. 

“Marked skin… we warned you, didn’t we?” A stranger mused. 

“Yes, yes we did, we did,” Another chirped, their voice was too cheery for the grim, nightmarish atmosphere. 

“Pirates can’t have soulmates, they can’t have -- “

Law gasped, he shot out of bed and didn’t even grab his water, he grabbed his jacket and left his room to go to the hallway. He noticed that they were on land, they were still on land, this wasn’t all just a dream, he really did meet someone with the same tattoos as himself. His mind for once wasn’t able to process what he saw and he soon found himself on the deck of his submarine looking out at the blue ocean and the black sky. He stared at the scene for a minute before he looked at his knuckles. How could something so alarming, something he had that was meant to push people away be the reason he got close to someone else? It hadn’t even been a day but all Law was able to think about was their infectious smile, their incredible art… There was more that had caught his eye too, but it was too inappropriate to even say, Law was embarrassed that he was caught up in such juvenile affections. Maybe Penguin was right. Law scoffed under his breath and continued to deny the truth that was in front of his face, he was falling for them after only one day. It was such an unreasonable thought that it disturbed him, it seriously caught him off guard. How was that even possible? Was it possible to fall this hard for someone after one day? Law was slowly beginning to lose his mind. Against his better judgement, he grabbed his sword and left his submarine to go back into the dark town. As he wandered around, he noticed how the dim lights mimicked stars, and all those stars led him down a straight path towards their place. Moths were around the lights like in his dream, in fact the alley looked eerily similar. Law forced himself not to think too hard on that, after all was he even thinking? He was walking over to some stranger’s studio in the middle of the night to ask questions, none of it made sense. It was late, they wouldn’t be awake. Before Law could even knock on the door, the door opened and Law was met by their piercing eyes. 

“You’re back,” They breathed out, their voice was smooth and rich, Law felt his breath hitch in his throat when he was able to see their hand that rested on the door. There was no mistaking that their tattoos were the same as his. 

“We need to talk,” Law quickly said, they offered no objections and opened their shop up for Law to walk inside. The warm atmosphere still was present, it contrasted the typically cold submarine he lived on. His eyes scanned them over in their casual night attire and felt his heart stop, he was hyper aware of every hair on his body, the electricity that was in the room. “We have the same tattoos,” Law said as he swallowed his shock away. Don’t stare, he ordered himself, but the tension between the two of them was thick. Their batting eyelashes, their soft smile, Law felt drunk off of them already. He watched as they shifted their weight onto one hip and how they pouted as they thought about what the captain spoke to them about.

“These? I’ve always had them,” They shared as they held up their hands to show off the tattoos that decorated their skin. Next, Law watched as they pulled the collar of their shirt down to show off the top part of their tattoo, it was the same as his and it was a little unnerving to see it so perfectly replicated on their skin. Not only was Law staring at the tattoo, he was staring at their skin, he let out a small breath and did his best to dim those thoughts in his sleep deprived brain. 

“How long,”  Law asked them. 

“Always. Like ever since you got them I suppose,” They shrugged. 

“So you know?” Law asked. 

“I’m not stupid, I know who you are, Trafalgar Law,” they said as they poked a finger at his built chest. The captain staggered back and frowned down at the person in front of him. “I’ve known it was you for a long time, I was just waiting for you to come and find me.”

“You sound like you’re just some fan,” Law stated with a small scowl on his face, he didn’t like the arrogance they were presenting. 

“Don’t test me, Law,” They snarled back as they grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pushed him against the wall. Their hips met his as they got closer to glare at him. They weren’t aware of how close they were and how this proximity was slowly getting to Law’s head. Law decided to toss all sense of reason out, why should he care? His mind was swarming and he needed release desperately. 

“Oh yeah?” Law smirked, he looked down at where their bodies were touching and then back into their eyes. And just like he predicted, they gasped and tried to step back from him, but Law wouldn’t allow that. Law grabbed them by their hips and tsked when he saw their face slowly going red. “What happened to all that confidence from earlier, hm?” He purred into their ear, his large, calloused hand groped their rear and he chuckled at the gasp that escaped from their lips. 

“You’re such an ass!” They gasped, while they wanted to sound menacing, it didn’t seem to be working, Law was proving to be in control of the situation as of now, but it was clear that they were enjoying Law’s teasing. 

“I think you like me like this,” Law teased as his hand slipped under the back of their shirt. His fingers dragged up their spine and he drank in their heated expression. “How long did you fantasize about this?” Law asked as he pulled them back to look them in the eyes with an arrogant smirk on his face.

“I-I don’t -- “

“Lying? Oh my, are you sure you want to be doing that now?” Law asked as his free hand wandered down to their pants. He watched as their face contorted with need and want, but Law knew he had to resist for now no matter how tempting they were to him. He let out a small sigh and reluctantly pulled away from them, he watched as their expression contorted to dismay but he knew he needed to stop, he had to remember the gravity of his situation, their situation. 

“Did you think about what you were going to do once you found me?” Law decided to ask.

“It’s obvious, don’t you think? Go on your ship, er - submarine. I want to travel the world and see all the art that exists, and I also want to get to know you more,” They said before their eyes scanned over Law’s built figure, there would for sure be a lot to explore later on for sure. 

“What about your shop?” Law asked them. He watched as their lips curled into a small smirk and Law nearly felt his heart stop again. 

“I’ll bring it with me, I’ll travel and help other’s find their soulmates with my tattoos. Those who already needed my services here had me, I’m not needed here anymore,” they shared to the captain. There was suddenly silence as the two of them stared into each other’s eyes. 

“Then come with me,” Being this impulsive wasn’t usually Law’s forte, but with an opportunity like this, he knew he had to live it to the best of his ability. He was surprised to see how they grabbed his hand without any hesitation and smiled. 

“Let me lock up my shop,” They said before their adventure with Law began. All Law could recall was holding their hand, running through the dark streets and stopping here and there to fiercely kiss them in dark alleys on their way to the submarine. He remembered taking them to the submarine, dragging them to his room and the sound of clothes hitting the ground. Lips, hands, warm skin touching one another and soft sounds throughout the rest of the night. When Law woke up in the morning, his head felt empty, he was relaxed for once, he didn’t have another nightmare. That surprised him, were they the answer to his nightmares? The room seemed lighter, he was amazed with himself by how he just followed his heart like that. When he looked over to his side, he saw them sleeping next to him and he found himself softly smiling. He leaned in and kissed their shoulder and watched them stir in their sleep. This wasn’t what he had planned at all for his trip here, but he was pleasantly surprised with himself, affection always sprung up from the most unexpected places, didn’t it? Even if his tattoos didn’t age well and wrinkled into his skin when he was older, he knew that they both would age well by growing with one another, and that was enough for Law.

[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Eleven

Read on AO3

They had been so careful. On the supposedly most fertile days of her courses, they had, well they had done other things. She religiously took her vial of posies and fennel each day and used the protection provided from her twentieth-century life. For months now. Still, it wasn’t enough, and she knew the only one hundred percent assured prevention was abstinence. She felt the ghost of a flutter in her womb. 

 Jamie found Claire on the floor next to their bed, her cheeks stained with tracks of tears and snot crusted against the deer pelt that her face was squished into. The chamber pot full of her sickness had been shoved away from her on the wood in her dejected anger. 

“Is it true Claire?”

 “Can ye..” he swallowed thickly. “Yer wee herbs can ye-“

 “No, that’s the last thing I want Jamie! God!” Her palms rubbed into her eye sockets. “I just wish- there wasn’t so much uncertainty. I could never survive- Jamie promise me, if it ever came down to it, you would save the child, not me.”

 “Claire,“ he levelled a determined gaze at her. ”That will never happen. Ever. That I will promise ye.”

 “But it might. You made me promise, should the time come, that I’d go through the stones. Of course, I was reluctant, but I did give you that promise. I followed through on it. Now you promise me.” 

 “Aye Claire, I’ll save the bairn, but it’ll no’ come to that.”

 “I’m going to instruct you. On how to help me. No matter if it goes wrong or the delivery is perfect.”

 “Ye wouldna prefer someone else? A woman?”

 “You’re the only one that I would trust.” She smirked in anticipation of her next words. “And you’re the one who did this to me, you can see it through.” 

 “Ye seemed pretty enthusiastic, if not overly pleased the many times I did that to ye. And I seem to recall the many times ye were the one clawing at me.” 

 She laughed at the big goof and then sighed into his embrace, relieving her stress and worry into him. 

 What if the baby never even made it long enough to make its true presence known? What if Jamie did have to follow through in his presence? Would she be able to survive the birth? She’d never given birth to a live, full-term baby yet. Or, even worse, would she be a terrible mother? When her mind drifted to these thoughts, she shook her head out of the daze. Stress wasn’t good for the baby. And if she constantly worried about her child’s health, her thoughts may very well become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

 It was March, and flowers and trees were slowly crawling out of their hibernation. Claire’s pregnancy felt… off from how she carried Faith. It didn’t raise alarm for her baby’s health, but she did have her suspicions.

 “What is it Sassenach? Ye’re smiling so hard I fear yer lips will fall off.” 

 “Well, I have been a bit… bigger than usual.” 

 “Aye, yer round wi’ my bairn. And I’m no’ complaining one bit. Wi’ yer fine plump arse even bigger than usual.” He grasped a healthy amount of said body part and smirked.

 “Well, I think I’m carrying twins.” 

 “Ifrinn!” All the colour drained from his face. “Two bairns? Two bairns! Sassenach!” He gripped her in his arms as joyous laughter rumbled through his chest and her feet left the floor. More words of love in his native language rumbled out and her eyes crinkled with her smile. 

 When she was absolutely sure it was twins, Jamie’s daily ritual of one kiss to her belly each morning and night turned into two kisses on either side of her stretched skin. 

 Not only did one life depend on her at once, but now two. She was terrified. Even with constant reassurance from Jamie that the bairns kicking in her stomach were braw, a twitch of doubt seeped into her mind. 

 To ease her worry, she thought of something that could reassure her. She traced the design onto the back of a discarded pamphlet. A pinard horn. So Jamie could hear the strong heartbeats of the babies tumbling within her belly. Fergus laboured hard on the project immediately, while his ‘milord’ was off working the lands of their croft. It was expertly crafted, even with her rudimentary designs. 

 Jamie manoeuvred the hollow horn over the expanse of her belly, brow furrowed in concentration. He paused over one spot and nearly fainted. 

 “Ah Dhia!” His eyes widened in fascination. “He’s really in there!”

 “Yes, they are.” She placed her hand over his on the pinard horn and slid it across where she thought she felt the other heartbeat to be. 

 His hands were shaky now and he choked on his tears, almost painfully bursting with joy. “Two braw bairns. Wi’ wicked thumping hearts.”

 They felt more concrete to him now, actual people instead of the imaginations of what they could be. He spoke every day to them in Gàidhlig, when Claire said they should be able to hear now.

 It was bittersweet. She was carrying them for over seven months now, longer than her other children. She was constantly caught between unflagging joy and unrelenting grief. Sometimes it felt like a betrayal to be so happy. But she carried through, with her husband and son by her side, and the promise of the future tucked under her heart.

 The day after Jamie’s birthday, she started labouring. Jamie commented on the decency of his children to not eclipse his day with their own arrival. It was as difficult as any other birth, but thankfully there were no complications. Claire had gripped, clawed, and screamed at her husband. She’d scream the promise to have him castrated many, many times. While she paced around the room, Jamie tried to assure her or crack jokes to lighten the atmosphere, but every word he said she turned it against him. He was silent after that, but then Claire would call out for him as each contraction ripped through her body. He stood behind her squatting form above the straw and she dug her nails into his arms as she bore down. A beautiful squalling boy was born after nine hours of labouring. William Brian Beauchamp Fraser. While she felt distraught placing the name Brian within the middle, Jamie assured her it was to not only honour his father, but now the child that they had lost, and she warmed to the idea as well. His brother met the world soon after, almost a quarter of an hour apart, looking exactly the same as the brother who beat him out of the womb. Henry Alexander Murtagh Fraser. Beautiful healthy boys, both with tufts of the same brown downy hair and slanted Fraser cat eyes. 

 They opted to have their sons sleep in their bed that night rather than the cribs Jamie had carved, tucked in securely between their parents. Neither of them could sleep and Claire was watching the steady rise and fall of each small chest. 

 “They’re real.” She whispered, brushing her pinky across William’s cheek. His lips tugged up into a smile, just like his father’s did. 

 “Thanks to ye Claire. Ye were braw.” He squeezed her hand, their arms hovering over their sons. “But I dinna wish to ever see ye like that again.”

 “Is it wrong to feel so happy? To rejoice in my sons while-?” 

 “They’ll be happy fer their brothers. I ken it. And they’re watching o’er them as their angels now. Lord knows how much these lads will need it. These two will be trouble, I can feel it.” He affectionately patted their bums. 

 Claire finally let her exhaustion take over and curled protectively around her son as she drifted off to sleep. Jamie never slept that night, too preoccupied with the sight of his wife and the children she had blessed him with. His wife learned just how real her sons were in the middle of the night when they would scream their lungs out unceasingly until attention was paid to them. Jamie insisted she rest and recover, and leapt up at every cry to take care of it, but was instantly horrified at what he found in the cloth swaddling Willie’s bum. 

 Fergus was elated the next day to meet his new brothers. Jamie and Claire had already spoken many times about how the new babies wouldn’t change anything about how they felt for him, but they could still sense some worry. 

 “Would you like to hold your little brother Willie?” At the indication that it was true, he had a little brother, all his worries vanished.

 “Oui maman.” He was so gentle with them with so much adoration in his eyes, and it made Claire cry just to see her boys together.

 He traded for Henry next and Jamie pulled Claire into his lap. 

 It was six weeks after the birth, and Jamie and Claire were equally ravenous. Both the babies had finally fallen asleep together, being unusually generous to their parents.

 “I need my wife.” He crawled over her. 

 “You still want me? After seeing all that…?” Her confidence has waned slightly. She was still pudgy around the middle and there were new scars lining her belly. There was also the fact that he had seen her sweating, cursing, and wailing like a cow on their bedroom floor before the fire, and had taken multiple peeks down there to check her progress. It was apparent, however, that he wanted her desperately despite of and maybe even because of that fact. 

 “I could never stop wanting ye Sassenach.” He peppered kisses across her abdomen and paid special attention to the fading purple streaks on her skin. The burns on her stomach had long since faded and were barely even noticeable unless one were to look very closely, as her husband was now. She let her knees fall to the side and a moan escaped her lips when he ducked further down. 

 “Now, as much as I love yer wee noises mo nighean donn, ye’ll have to be quiet tonight.” He covered her mouth with his, silencing the cries that he brought out of her body.

 When they both had finished, laying boneless on the sheets, Jamie pulled Claire’s back close to his chest and she curled back into him. Henry began to cry, waking his brother as well and throwing them both into fits of hungry wails. Jamie silently walked over, wrapping his kilt loosely across his hips and placed a baby in each of his arms. The sight made Claire want to ravish him with a sudden ferocity, even though they had just joined together moments ago. But, her babies’ hunger won over and she placed one on each breast. Jamie watched fascinated, as he always did. The babies hungrily gulped down their meal and then slumped against their mom, tired from weeks of growing, crying, and eating. Their tiny fists laid on top of her skin and Jamie slowly adjusted himself to hold Henry. He fell asleep, Henry’s body rising and falling with each of his father’s breaths. Willie stirred again, inquisitively staring up into his mother’s eyes. Claire stroked Henry’s cheek eliciting the same smile she loved so much, and then reached for Jamie’s as well.

 “God, I love you, Jamie. So much.” Her attention shifted down to the babe on her breast. “You have such a wonderful father, don’t you Willie?” She spoke down to her captive audience. “And I love you.” She kissed his small nose, then leaned over for Henry’s “And you.” She pulled on Jamie’s bottom lip. “And God how I love you.”

[ragingpancake]

As I Lay Sleeping: Ch. 2 - Sanctuary

Chapter 1

“It’s about time you woke up.” The sun is bright and harsh from the moment John steps outside and he has to lift a hand to help shield his face from its glow. The voice is familiar, he thinks, or it should be and it washes over him like an old song with words he can’t remember, just the melody. “You heard it, didn’t you?” A question, sure, but John thinks she already knows the answer and it’s unsettling because when he lowers his hand, eyes finally adjusted to the light, he peers into hazel eyes and realizes that she knows him. “He said that this would happen. That when it was time, she would call to you.” She holds his gaze for a moment, and she looks hopeful, like she’s just waiting for some spark of recognition, but it never comes. Her face falls just a fraction before she smiles, and he feels so wholly unworthy of that in this moment that it leaves him shifting from one foot to the next a little uncomfortably. “Well, that’s okay,” she says gently, diplomatically. “Rodney said that it was possible this would happen too. Tell me, what exactly do you remember, John?”

Nothing. He remembers a whole lot of nothing and he thinks, based on the look she’s giving him, she already knows that. “Listen, I’d really like to stay and chat, but I’ve got somewhere I need to be.” “Oh really?” She asks, eyebrow raised. “And where’s that?” Okay, she’s got him there. “I can help you, John. That’s why I’m here, to do just that. To help you try to remember. But in order for me to do that, you’re going to have to trust me a little.” Trust. It feels foreign to him, but in the same way that he knows that she’s familiar, he knows that he can trust her. Like maybe he has, before. He thinks back to the voice that spoke to him in the hut, the one that she seems to know. Had she heard it too, then? “Elizabeth,” he says and for a second, her eyes light up and she gives him a smile so genuine that something shifts inside of him. “Yes, that’s right. Very good, John. I’m Elizabeth and a very long time ago, we used to work together. On Atlantis.” Atlantis. Home. Those two words are synonymous with each other, John knows, and it’s the first thing since he woke up that he can be sure of. “Why am I here?” He asks. “Where exactly is here?” Elizabeth gestures for him to follow and from where he’s standing, it’s not like he’s got much of a choice. He has no idea where –-or who—he is, and she seems to be the only one who can provide him with some answers. At least for now, where she goes, he has no choice but to follow. --- They don’t walk for very long. She leads him down to the tree line he hadn’t noticed when he’d first stepped out into the light. There’s a large tree, and it looks like maybe it’s a place she comes often. There are a few logs that she leads him over to and as she sits, she gestures for him to do the same. “Your name,” she says, “is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of the United States Airforce. We met when you joined the Atlantis Expedition.” She pauses for a moment and he tries to remember, but it’s all still blank. “You were my military commander, leader of our Alpha Gate Team and you were... well, you were my friend.” She gives a small smile, one that seems sad. “We’ve been through a lot together, John. The Pegasus Galaxy, as beautiful as it is, came with plenty of dangers that we were not prepared for. Dangers that we never even saw coming.” “Immediately after arriving in Atlantis, you and a team led by Colonel Marshall Sumner traveled to a nearby planet through what we call a Stargate. It was there that for the first time, we encountered the Wraith. It was then that we... well. I suppose for many, that would’ve been the beginning of the end. But not for you.” Elizabeth is quiet for a moment, lost in her own thoughts like she’s a million miles away. “Elizabeth?” He prompts. “We lost a lot of good people,” she says and her voice is hoarse, thick with emotion. When she glances back up at him, there are unshed tears in her eyes, but she swipes them away almost angrily. “We spent nearly three years fighting the Wraith, doing what we could to protect the people of Atlantis—to protect Earth but it wasn’t... It was never going to be enough.” “Three years after waking the Wraith, after fighting them off of our doorstep more times than we could count, they were bearing down on us. We evacuated the city, got as many people out as we could.” “But we didn’t win.” John doesn’t need his memory to know that; he can see it written all over her face. “No,” she agrees. “No, we did not win. But we didn’t lose, either. Not yet.” John’s not sure what she means by that but before he gets a chance to ask, she’s speaking again. “We are on M7-X732, otherwise known as the Planet of the Cloister,” she says. “It had been abandoned for about a year before we brought you here.” In the sky, the sun is fading and there’s a chill that fills the air. He can feel it, but Elizabeth doesn’t even seem to notice. “You were mortally wounded during the last stand in Atlantis, John. Rodney had come up with a plan in the eleventh hour, like he

always did. The Wraith had woken because we’d inadvertently woken their Queen. They wake when she wakes, they slumber when she slumbers. He needed more time though. You were the one to give it to him and you nearly paid for it with your life.” Hazel eyes flicker to meet his. “That was nearly one hundred years ago.” “That’s not possible,” John rasps and Elizabeth gives him the smallest of smiles. “I can assure you, John, had you not lost your memories, you would know very well that it is. Anything is possible when it comes to Rodney.” She gestures around them. “You got trapped here once. A time dilation field. By the time Rodney had figured it out, you’d spent six months with the people of the Cloister and it was a world where we knew you’d be safe.” “This doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.” “I know,” Elizabeth says. “And I’m sorry for that.” She reaches for him then, thin fingers curling around his wrist. “You were put into Stasis, John. The intention was to keep you there until the very last moment, to give you the time you needed to heal. Rodney ensured that no one would find this place, that you would be left undisturbed until it was time for you to wake.” “Wake for what? You said he figured it out, right? This Rodney guy. What do you need me for?” “As we speak, Rodney is back on Atlantis in a Stasis pod of his own. It was a design we took from the Aurora, a sort of shared consciousness so to speak. A virtual reality. For the last one hundred years, he’s shared a reality with the hibernating Wraith Queen, keeping her from waking, keeping the hives from waking.” “He’s losing, John. She’s figured it out, Rodney always knew she would, but he’d hoped it would give you enough time to heal.” “I don’t-- what am I supposed to do?” He can’t even remember his own favorite color, how was he supposed to remember how to find Atlantis, how was he supposed to remember what to do? “Find him,” Elizabeth says. “Find them. Even now, if Rodney’s theories were right, there are sixty hive ships in hibernation just outside of Lantea’s orbit. Find Atlantis. Control the chair. Destroy them all while they sleep.” Well, doesn’t sound like that’s asking for too much. Given the fact that, you know, these things apparently almost killed him a century ago.  “And what if I can’t do what you’re asking? If I couldn’t do it before, what makes you think I can do it now?”  “When you and Rodney made your last stand, you two were alone, John.” Elizabeth stands and for a moment, turns her back to him. “Spread across four worlds, you will find sarcophagi containing exactly what you need. It would be reckless to try to return to Atlantis now, without your weapons, without your memories. Find each sarcophagus and save our home.” She turns and John is taken aback by how much older she looks now. How... frail she appears. “And what... what about you?” She gives him a rueful smile. “I’ve done my part, John. I’ve watched and I’ve waited for a very long time; I’m very tired now.” She sits down on the log and John pitches forward off of his own, gripping her shoulders gently to keep her upright. “Elizabeth...” “It’s alright.” A wrinkled hand comes up to rest on his cheek and it’s so familiar that John closes his eyes, savoring it for half a second. “I would tell you to be brave, but that’s all you’ve ever been.” “I don’t know where to go,” he says, and there’s panic rising in his chest with each passing moment as she fades away. “Climb the mountain. Go through the cave. I’ll keep the door open long enough for you to pass through. Let... Let Atlantis guide you.” It’s time to go, John.  The voice in his head is gentle, mournful and he wonders if Elizabeth can hear it too.  He shifts on his knees and he reaches for her, guiding her into his arms carefully before he lays her down against the soft grass. “I’m so sorry, Elizabeth,” because he knows, somehow in his heart, that it’s his wakening that’s caused this. Hazel eyes meet his one last time as a peaceful smile touches her

lips. “When you... find Rodney,” she manages, voice so soft that he almost can’t hear, “tell him... I always knew... it would work.” And then, in much the same way as it was when he awoke in that hut, John Sheppard is alone.

AN: I took some liberties with a few things, mostly the time dilation field and you know, the whole One Wraith Queen to rule them all thing, but I figured since it's an AU... well. Forgive me, please.

[monstersdownthepath]

So any advice on how to incorporate monsters like the Tarrasque that are meant to be "experienced" instead of fought? Like running away or trying to divert them or something? Or should they just be like a "cut-scene" where the GM describes what its doing as the PCs watch and can't do anything to stop it?

The same way you’d run an encounter with a tornado, a storm, or some other disaster that the players cannot directly fight. Skill checks to dodge and perhaps some clever spellwork and items to avoid its charge, but it shouldn’t feel like something they can brute force through.

Running away could be the plan, but I find it’s much more interesting to give the players an objective that still puts them in danger, such as “rescue [X] civilians,” or “retrieve [x] artifact from under its nose,” or “get the beast’s attention for [X] time.” Like, just as an example, have this off the top of my head:

Tarrasque has risen once again, but the machinations of Rovagug’s cultists have prevented celestial aid from arriving. The city of Goodguya will be utterly destroyed if the players can’t avoid Tarrasque’s rampage to root out the four cultists holding their ritual of sealing in place! They have to do their best to find these cultist mages and dispatch them... without gathering the Armageddon Engine’s lethal attention and, if it’s unavoidable, to have some way of escaping its wrath until it loses interest and goes back to rampaging. Drawing its aggression in and using it to dispatch the cultists can be done for bonus points!

Tarrasque will render the city unsalvagable before too long; the party has only one hour to find and kill the cultists or Goodguya will be wiped completely off the map. If they do manage to find and kill the cultists, their barrier breaks and angels and archons begin to pour into the city to fight back the beast, forcing it to retreat and--eventually--forcing it back into hibernation. The players can contribute to the final fight if they want, but it shouldn’t feel like they would have been able to battle it on their own.

[overdrivels]

TWtaH Notes

I’m finally free. It took three years and nearly 150k words, but I’m finally done. I can’t believe it. 

It started off as a simple idea and a simple premise: a chef!reader who, while knife sharpening, catches Hanzo’s attention. It then evolved into a full-fledged fic with a plot and plot twists. Originally, it was supposed to be around 10 chapters long, but then it grew out of control over the years as I tried to figure out how to end what I started. 

In addition to being a redemption fic, this was also an information dump fic. Since this is the very first slowburn I have ever finished and I have the feeling I won’t have much opportunity to do the same ever again--I don’t think any other fandom would give me the ability to showcase all these tidbits like Overwatch does--I literally threw as much knowledge as I could reasonably incorporate as possible.

About plot changes:

Most of the original plot points survived the writing process, some minor ones didn’t for plot related reasons, so this surprisingly went better than I thought it would. 

There was supposed to be another scene where Chef faced off against Reaper in chapter 20 or so, but upon reassessing Reaper’s character, I decided he wouldn’t do that, especially not against civilians or put himself in harm’s way just to say something to Chef. He wouldn’t even say anything to his family in the comics, what makes anyone think he’d do anything to someone he had even less of a personal relationship with?

There were supposed to be more scenes about Chef’s fencing, but I couldn’t fit it in and it ended up being a one-trick pony plot device. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, but that’s how it turned out. There was supposed to be a scene where Chef fights back against Talon during their infiltration of the Watchpoint.

There were points where Hanzo himself talked his way out of situations and forced me to change the plot. In the kitchen when he first meets Chef face-to-face, he wasn’t supposed to get the chef to forgive him which is the biggest plot deviation I’ve had and it forced me to reconsider large sections of the story. Honestly, I think it’s for the better though because I was really at a loss as to how to progress the original plot under those conditions.

I also wanted to emphasize that when Chef left, there was increased tension between the members. There was little commonality joining them all together except for the fact they all needed to eat. In order for some parties to work, you have to have your support characters, and in that case, it’d be Chef. But I seem to have bumbled through that bit and made it less impactful so if I ever got a chance to rewrite this, I’d probably stress this bit more.

Symmetra was supposed to have a much bigger role in this, somehow she fell to the wayside with that one plot change in the kitchen I mentioned before. On the flipside, Ana and McCree got a way bigger role than expected. 

One of the biggest plot changes was Hanzo hating peppers. Originally he was supposed to hate onions but I thought there was way too much onion in Japanese cuisine to omit them, so I thought of something that would seem more ‘childish’.

To be fair, I also don’t really like peppers all that much either. But I sure as hell love onions.

The proposal with the miso soup at the end, the plot twist where the chefs are the real treasure, and some other minor details have been there since the beginning of the idea’s conception. Things like Reaper trading Overwatch’s life for the tamale, the name of the restaurant, and Hanzo’s fight with Genji only came after the fic was being written. 

Real life:

Covid really took its toll on me since a lot of this fic revolved around food, tasting it, experiencing it, making it, etc. I lost a good portion of my taste and smell, and it’s not back 100% even months later, so a lot of what I begin to describe after a certain point is just based on memory. If a pre-pandemic world, I would have been running around the city, sampling foods and writing down my impressions, but with things as they were, it didn’t pan out that way.

I tried to stuff as many of my favorite foods (and not so favorite foods) here as much as possible. There were a lot of foods I omitted because there’s only so much I could fit in here. A companion compilation fic of the Overwatch characters eating their favorite foods or just eating food in general made by Chef sounds really appealing right now.

May, June, and July made me really want to expand the story and include things in the fic that would turn it ‘problematic’ or at least morally ambiguous. If I did that, this fic would never be finished. 

Characterization and development:

Junkrat and Roadhog are much more docile in this story than I would have headcanoned them simply because food security is life-changing. I really liked the idea of Roadhog using his farming skills and being less homicidal with the right environment. They both know food is sacred. 

Argus 20 is in reference to Argus Panoptes, the all-seeing many eyed giant from greek mythology. The 20 comes from “hindsight is 20-20” (but now 2020 has a very different connotation and I’m thinking it’s pretty fitting). The reason for this is because she oversaw a lot of what was happening especially in the front of house. It’s not mentioned in the story, but she oversaw things like purchasing the restaurant, setting up the dummy accounts, organizing and obfuscating the donations, etc.

In case there was any confusion, ‘Tanuja Deshmukh Singh’ is Asim’s deadname. When he left Overwatch and became Asim Singh, his family disowned him. He was then free to live as himself, but he never discarded his last name because he still wanted to be connected to his family in some vague way no matter how much they disliked or denied his existence.

Head Chef Richard has been in jail. His backstory is basically after firing his staff to protect them from the fall out, he basically told the press he fired them for insubordination and took the fall for the kitchens and got quietly arrested. He was sent to the same prison that Chef would end up at. He’s not a very honest man, I don’t think, but he’s a character who was molded by the story and its needs rather than being a pre-established OC. 

I kind of wanted to write the fic in a way where Argus and Asim weren’t bad guys but people who were forced to make difficult decisions because of the position they were put in by Chef and by Talon. Cause, you know, sometimes you do things to hurt people without realizing it.

I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to push another ship in the background. If you see hints of different pairings here and there, you may be seeing it right because I kept flip-flopping between chapters as to whether I wanted to or not, and if I decided I did, I kept changing the pairings.

Hanzo. Where do I even start with this guy? I had a really tough time trying to stick to one interpretation of his character. I kept reading other fics and going, “Yeah. Yeah! I want that!” But then it just became a huge mish-mash of characterizations until I wasn’t sure who he was anymore. But I clung onto the thought of “he’s the first son of an Asian household dealing with his spoiled brother” to help get me through it. It reminds me of that tweet that goes, “You think you can hurt me? I’m the eldest daughter in an asian family.” It was so relatable. Channeling eldest sibling in asian family vibes. 

Chef. It was so hard. It was so damn hard writing a faceless character for so many words. I can usually do it in a one-shot because I can get away with not mentioning stuff, but in a slowburn?? It’s so difficult. Multiple times I had to stop myself or revise things because there were characters talking about Chef and I didn’t want to make the dialogue unnatural by saying ‘chef’ ‘chef’ over and over again. There were other moments like Soldier carrying Chef out of the Cellar and I was like: “What if the reader is taller than Soldier?!” It was a struggle. The other struggle was characterization. There were so many in-story stressful moments that I wanted Chef to start crying at but the timing of it was so frequent that I had to nix most of them or risk making Chef unrelatable. 

lol i’ve made several pseudo-cameos in the story because I’m shameless. 

Miscellaneous:

Man, my style changed so many times throughout the story. At some point I ended up writing outlines made solely of dialogue and wrote the story around it. It was oddly distressing when I realized my words wouldn’t come out like they used to.  

This fic has seen me through a ridiculous amount of crap. I kind of wished I kept a journal or something because these past three years have been nuts. 

After this, I’ll probably retire from writing Overwatch and then go into my usual writing hibernation that spans about 4 years before I reemerge with an unquenchable thirst for something stupid. 

In my nearly 20 years of writing fanfic, this is the first slowburn I’ve ever completed. To be fair, the last time I even tried was like...over 10 years ago when mediaminer was still a thing and didn’t ban CYOAs.

This was also the longest single fic I’ve ever written. I have wirtten 200k in a year before but never for any single thing.

God, this was hard. I partially did it to prove that you don’t need to use placeholders like ‘Y/N’ and stuff like that and it was possible to write a slowburn with gender neutral stuff, but I had to cheat a bit. But it’s done. 

I’ve worked in the restaurant business for a few years but not as a chef. It wasn’t even high-end either. I wanted to talk about the work conditions because it’s pretty tough in the kitchens and the amount of drugs and vices people turn to and the conditions in which people come to work is nuts. 

I wanted to cover a lot of controversial topics to see if I could but it just didn’t fit in the story. I wanted to tap into things like social justice, racism, prejudices, political landscapes, and so on. Even within Overwatch, I’d imagine there’s a lot of tensions stemming from just basic ideologies. I wanted to see if I could write about both (or more) sides of challenging arguments and still remove the author’s opinions from the story, but I’d imagine that’ll bring its own complications. Last thing I wanted was to start a fight in the comments or something.

I almost made the crew travel to Asia with implications of a changed geo-political sphere from today. Like...the status of Taiwan would’ve been interesting to touch upon, but I didn’t feel like I had the knowledge to expand on it enough.

Almost every waking of my life, I have thought or worked on this fic. During meetings, during conferences, during client calls, while I’m on public transportation, in different countries. I don’t know what to do with myself now.

Anyway, if you have any questions or anything or just want to shout at me, inbox is open.. For now I’m just going to lament over the fact that Genshin Impact gives me motion sickness and I can’t play despite working so hard to roll Mona.