#and the answer is 'for plot purposes'

[paperultra]

the liminal space.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 1,575 words Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol use [A/N: written with the cooper!reader from mise en rose in mind. i don't know where in the timeline this occurs, though. lol.]

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms

Living in close quarters can really change how you see a person.

Roronoa Zoro, for instance, had always struck you as rather aloof, having traveled alone for some time before you joined him, and unused to physical affection. He never gave any indication that he was one to enjoy it, and he never sought it out from anyone. That certainly wasn’t odd. You respected his tendency towards personal space, subsequently believing that it extended to his sleeping habits as well.

So when you wake up, hardly able to breathe underneath the hulking mass of a snoring swordsman, you are more surprised than anything.

“Zoro,” you wheeze, patting his back with the hand that isn’t crushed between his chest and yours. Nothing happens, so you swat harder. “Zoro. You’re crushing me.”

His arms squeeze around you as he stirs, inhaling sharply next to your ear. You stop moving as he lifts his head and opens his eyes just wide enough to register you beneath him.

He pauses.

Good morning, sunshine is what you want to say in a cheeky tone. You want to prove that you’re unaffected by the warmth of his body pressing yours into the mattress, the sensation of his breath across your cheekbone and the way his gaze transitions from something bleary into something sharp.

The greeting refuses to leave your mouth. All you can do is blink.

The next thing you know, Zoro’s rolling off of you and out of bed with nary an apology, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.

You hum distantly in response and stare up at the ceiling as he shuffles to the door. Once he closes it behind him, you reach up and fold your hands over your eyes, cheeks hot.

Great.

—

It all started because you and Zoro could only afford a single bed at the inn.

(You use the term “afford” loosely here. The truth of the matter is that you grossly underestimated how much a room would cost, and the owner of the one place willing to lend you a room for half the usual rate demanded physical labor to make up for the rest. Given that Zoro would be spending most of his time hunting down a bounty, the majority of the unpaid labor fell on your shoulders.)

(But you digress.)

The room is small and bare, which is fine, because you and Zoro don’t have much between the two of you anyway. The only problem is that there is only one bed. Zoro had expressed no qualms about sharing so long as you didn’t disturb his sleep, and you had readily agreed, not wanting either of you to sleep on the floor.

After the first morning, you’re not sure if that was a lapse of judgement on your part or not.

Zoro doesn’t mention it at all before he leaves for the day, and you don’t, either. However, when he comes back in the middle of the night and you’re already in bed, squinting and shielding yourself from the bright hallway light as he takes his slippers off and walks in, he sits on the carpet just a few feet away from your side.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he proceeds to lay down.

“Sleeping.”

He closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head. You frown.

“Why aren’t you sleeping up here?” No answer. You lift your head from your pillow, indignant. “Hey, don’t ignore me! I know you’re still awake.”

“I’ve had a long day,” he grumbles, “so I’d like some quiet so I can sleep. Thanks.”

You huff.

The thought that Zoro might actually be just as embarrassed flits briefly through your mind, but you extinguish it just as quickly. He’s never seemed like the kind of guy to be self-conscious about those kinds of things. A more likely reason is that he’s decided that he wants his own separate space after all and can’t be bothered to kick you off the bed.

So, you kick yourself off instead.

“What are you doing?” The phrase now comes from Zoro as you throw the covers off and grab your pillow, kneeling on the ground beside him. His eyes open and his brow furrows.

“Take the bed. I feel guilty.”

“I don’t want the bed.”

“Everybody wants the bed.” You lie down on the carpet and cross your arms over your chest, stubborn. “I’ve already slept in it. Now it’s your turn.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zoro says.

Neither of you budge.

The next morning, you decide that the first morning was in fact not a fluke, as you awake with your face smushed against his chest and the smell of steel in your nose once again. He’s not on top of you, at least, but the way he clutches you while you’re lying on your side, one ankle hooked over yours, is somehow ten times more mortifying. You wake him up in the midst of untangling yourself and pretend like nothing happened.

Who’s the idiot now? (The answer is both of you. Both of you are idiots.)

—

The third night, you and Zoro flop onto the hard mattress with twin groans, heads spinning and feeling overall miserable.

“That was the shittiest booze I’ve ever had,” Zoro slurs next to you, face down in his pillow.

“But you got a lead, right?” you mumble.

“Yeah …”

You had been there in the bar when he’d gotten that lead, but you can’t remember what it was for the life of you. Another inn? Another bar? Ugh, you’re never drinking there again.

“I’m cold.”

There are blankets on the bed. Unfortunately, getting underneath them would require a lot of moving, and you are physically incapable of exerting yourself that much right now.

You shiver and turn onto your side to curl up. You’ll fall asleep at some point, anyway.

Zoro murmurs your name.

“Hm,” you groan, eyes screwed shut.

He doesn’t say anything in reply. But you hear the mattress squeak, the bedsheets rustle as he shifts closer, and your breath catches when the small distance between you closes. He does not wrap his arms around you, no, but your knees touch, and the heat from his skin melds into yours. You hear his breathing slow to a crawl.

Through your drunken haze breaks through a sudden need to draw him into you, to tuck your face into his neck and keep it there forever. You want – you want. But you’re exhausted, and your head aches, so you find yourself slipping into a deep slumber instead.

He’s already gone when you wake up.

—

A suspiciously lumpy gunnysack in the corner of the room catches your eye once you enter, hand over your mouth to stifle a yawn.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Eight million beri,” Zoro says from his seat on the bed. Cleaning supplies for his swords are strewn around him, and he sheathes the Wado Ichimonji as you close the door. “I ran into another bounty on the way back.”

“Eight mill –” You clear your throat. “Wow. That was pretty lucky.” Eight million beri. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever get used to how much bounty hunters can make. (God, that would’ve been more than enough to pay for the room.) “We’re heading out to a marine base tomorrow morning, then?”

“That’s the plan.”

He puts away his supplies, setting them and his swords against the wall near his pillow before standing up to pull down the sheets on his side. You turn off the bedside lamp and do the same, crawling in with a sigh.

The two of you simply lie side-by-side until you decide to break the silence with your big mouth again.

“Am I a burden to you?” you ask.

“No.” The plainness of Zoro’s tone is a small comfort, you suppose. “Why are you asking?”

“Well …” You already regret bringing this topic up as you trail off, biting your bottom lip. “I feel like I haven’t really done much. I mean, I help with navigating and searching crowds and stuff, and I’ve been getting better at fighting, but I can’t help you, you know?” You fiddle with your fingers. “You don’t actually need me.”

There’s a gap between you and Zoro that you’ll likely never be able to close. You had always known that, and so had Zoro; in fact, he had told you at the start that going with him was a bad idea, given your inexperience in bounty hunting and traveling in general. And although you’d like to think that your ability to read a map and fix things convinced him of your usefulness, there are times when you think Zoro regrets bringing you along. Like now.

Zoro grunts, turning to lay on his back. His shoulder nearly lands on your hands, and you draw them to yourself as you wait for his answer.

It is brief and straightforward.

“I’m not forcing you to go with me,” he says. “And if you were a burden, I would’ve told you a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

It is brief and straightforward, and yet, there’s a strange lump in your throat. You swallow it and nod, even though he cannot see you do so.

Nothing more is said. However, as the night goes on, you reach out, and you find him, and Zoro finds you, and the space between your arms fills up with warmth and an unspoken promise. And you sleep very well.

[leafyeyes417]

Followed by LOA

Prompt: Normally Danny wouldn’t care that his sister joined a cult the LOA in an effort to tone them down, but he is a bit unhappy that he is now being followed by an assassin to gain blackmail/keep in line his sister. It’s not even the being followed part that he cares about! It’s the fact that the Bats have already caught on to him being followed and now he is on their radar. And he can’t even get a single coffee without a Bat showing up! Ancients Danny is tempted to show his eldritch form in an attempt to scare them off but he knows that will make it worse not better.

[yukipri]

For curiosity's sake...

[harmonysanreads]

My fellow simps... Anaxa fic will be dropping soon

Since this is a sizable amount of bickering (about 3k) I've decided to make a taglist. Please reply to this post if you'd like to be notified!

[strangersteddierthings]

No Regrets - Part Two

TW: OC Character Death (dude doesn't even get a name). Steve reflects on killing both demo-creatures and humans with detachment. Mentions of Major Character Deaths but as a reminder, they don't stay dead! (Well, Chrissy and Fred do)

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Maybe he should feel bad about watching Robin grow smaller in the rear-view mirror, her face a mixture of disbelief and anger. Maybe he should feel regret for his actions, for the betrayal Robin probably feels right now.

He doesn't.

Looking at the bigger picture, at the regrets he actually does have in the waking world, this is small potatoes. A non-issue. Robin will forgive him in the end.

War Zone is like a ghost town compared to the first time Steve was here. Though, that should have been expected. The panic hasn't swept through town yet. So far, it's just one dead girl. Fred'll join her sometime this afternoon. Evening? Sometime later today.

Nineteen-year-old Steve would hate himself for not trying to help. For not doing his best to save Fred.

But.

Well, Fred dying will help Dustin, in the long run. Will help Eddie. And that's more important. That's the goal. The dream, if he's allowing himself to be cheeky in his own mind.

Steve's not heartless, or anything like that. Robin, his Robin in the waking world, still calls him a softy and worries his kindness will get him killed on the daily. He always puts the safety of the group above himself. The first to volunteer on supply runs or for scouting or taking watch through the night. He knows he can run on empty for much longer than anyone else he knows.

The end of the world has a way of skewing what kindness and softness are, though. Those first few months were the hardest. Steve wanted to save everyone they came across. Help as many people as possible, but rations run dangerously low that way. Clean water can become contaminated quickly by ignorant people. Not everyone handled the apocalypse with grace.

The first harsh lesson Steve had learned was two months into the end of the world. They'd ventured to Indy to find supplies. Medicines. Try and stock up on things they didn't need yet but wanted around for the just in case of it all. They'd found some survivors, which wasn't surprising in itself. The surprising bit was that these guys had made it on complete luck it seemed. They were loud. Jumpy. Panicky.

When Lucas and Mike, on scout duty, had reported back demogorgon activities nearby, one guy started to panic. Got loud and couldn't bring himself back down. Steve was closest, tried to shush him but he wouldn't be quiet.

"Move," Murray (may he rest in peace) whispered, seeming to have appeared from nowhere, shoving Steve away, nudging him out of the way. Murray stepped behind the guy, one hand covering his nose and mouth, the other arm around his neck. It made the guy panic more, fighting Murray and then Murray just-

Steve remembers he flinched at the noise, turning away to cover his mouth and calm his own panic. The noises stopped though. Steve had shot a horrified look to Hopper, but Hopper wasn't looking at Steve. He was looking beyond, at Murray and what he'd done, nodding his approval.

The demogorgons didn't find them that day.

"You can't help everyone, Steve," Murray said, once they'd started the trek back to Hawkins. "The safety of the group comes first, over just one person."

Lesson heard. Lesson learned. Lesson put to use four months later.

So. Fred must die, for the good of the group. Patrick, too, if Steve can't get to Vecna in time. He should be able to. Vecna will try and take Max first, tomorrow. Patrick the day after. If everything stays the same.

The clerk doesn't even blink at what Steve buys, or the quantity of what he buys, but his eyebrows do go up a little at the total.

Steve hesitates just a bit over the checkbook his parents gave him the first time they'd left him home alone at fourteen. For emergencies only, Steven. It's been sitting in his glove box, unused, since he turned sixteen. He's never wanted to have to explain what he'd used it for. Nothing had ever seemed like enough of an emergency to warrant explaining it to Richard Harrington.

He does find it a little odd that his mind is conjuring up the concept of money. Of all the little things to think about while he sleeps, he really didn't think his subconscious would bring capitalism back.

Steve rips the little check out of the booklet and hands it over. The clerk looks it over before giving a nod and finishing the cash out. Steve takes the receipt when it's offered, shoving it into the checkbook before shoving that into his back pocket.

The parking lot has one other person in it, who Steve is aware of the entire time he's loading the trunk of his car with gallons of lighter fluid, weapons, and padded camouflage. It's only after Steve's slammed the trunk closed and shoved the cart back towards the front of the store that the guy watching him speaks.

"Must be some bonfire you're planning."

Steve rounds his car and opens the door before answering. "It's spring break, man." He slides in, the door falling closed after him. He buckles up, starts the car, and heads home. The house will be empty, he knows.

He works in silence, unloading the car and organizing his haul in the dining room, eyes flicking to the clock. There's still a couple of hours before dark. Before he should go check if Eddie's still in the boathouse, or if the police did go find him.

He sets the timer on the stove for an hour and flops onto his couch and sighs. Just as comfy as he remembers. He can have a nap before making sure Eddie's in jail. Surely his dream will allow him that?

-

"Mmhm," Steve mumbles as his neck protests movement. He's slow to wake. His head feels like white noise. He thinks he was dreaming but he can't quite grasp at what it was... oh. Family Video and War Zone. Reliving a memory. He wonders if Robin is still mad at him for that day, ditching her with Dustin and Max. It'd been for a good reason and- Steve wrinkles his nose as he sits up, head still static-y. Was it for a good reason? He can't remember what else happened after that....

"He rises," Robin whispers next to him, spooking him. She comes into focus as he sits up straight, leaning out of her space to look at her. She gives him a smile, judging by the crinkle around her eyes and her cheeks rounding. The gas mask prevents him seeing her real smile and he misses it. He thinks about his dream, and getting to see all of Robin's face again.

Dreaming is bittersweet.

"I miss anything?" He asks, because it's a safe question.

"Scouts radioed. The way should be clear in another," Robin grabs his wrist and twists so she can see the time on his watch, "another twenty minutes or so."

The mention of the radio makes him think of Dustin, and how much he misses him. And thinking of Dustin makes him think of Eddie. Steve knows it's irrational for him to miss someone he never knew but that doesn't stop the ache. The almost of it all sits heavy in his chest.

"Right," Steve says. "Want to see how many rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors we can get through in twenty minutes?"

Robin shuffles sideways to be facing him and holds her hands up. "You always lose but okay."

They get about twelve rounds into it before Steve finds himself asking, "Hey Robbie. Do you remember Spring Break?"

Her hands freeze in the air, an aborted motion to make paper to beat Steve's rock. She locks eyes with him for a moment and he can see the worry there. "I- Steve. Is it- did you take a hit? Is it your head? Should I not have let you nap?"

No. No, he doesn't think he got hurt on this run. Well, his shoulder hurts from when he stumbled and slammed into wall during the last loading of the truck, but he hadn't hit his head. He thinks. "I don't know... I hit the wall hard, shoulder hurts, but I didn't hit my head. I don't remember hitting my head."

Robin stands immediately and begins jabbing her fingers around his skull. "Anything tender?"

"Nope. Just a messed up hairdo," Steve swats her hands away.

"Well, you can never be too sure. You are precious cargo. Why did you ask about the start of the apocalypse?"

Steve shrugs. What can he say? That he's forgetting the start of all their horrors? He can't say that, not without coming across like he's either crazy or bragging. Remember the week that ruined our lives and gave us all enough trauma to fill an ocean? Yeah, well, I don't so ha!

He can't be sure but he thinks Robin frowns beneath her mask. "We'll have to have someone look you over when we get back. Steve, if you're losing your memories..."

"I'm not losing memories," Steve lies. Head trauma is serious and he knows he can't take one more hit to the head. He won't be able to continue helping with supply runs or patrols if he is getting worse. If he starts getting migraines, they'll reassign him for sure. Something that doesn't let him leave the safety of their home base at the high school.

"Steve," she warns. He knows it's a warning.

He shakes his head. "I just. I had a dream about Saturday. Very vivid. Just made me think about it, is all."

Robin softens, sinking back down to sit beside him. She finally answers, "yeah. I remember Spring Break."

"I miss everyone," he confesses, because it's true. Because it's safe.

"Me too," Robin says, leaning her mask against his.

They wait in silence until the scouts call the all clear and they can head back home.

They make it back to Hawkins before night falls but just barely. The gates get rolled shut behind them and the unpacking gets started. The whole community has gathered for their return. This is their longest run to date with how far they had to go this time and Steve doesn't blame anyone for needing to see their loved ones as soon as possible.

"Robin!"

Steve turns just in time to watch Vickie launch herself at Robin. Robin must have seen her running, though, because she's already braced for impact and catches Vickie easily, arms grabbing at Vickie's thighs to support her weight as she wraps them around Robin's waist. Vickie places her forehead to Robin's as their excitement switches to tenderness and Steve averts his eyes to give them privacy in this moment.

"Steve, here," Ted Wheeler offers up a box to Steve, who takes it without question. "For the Daycare."

"You got it."

The Daycare is actually a wing of the school that used to be where the language arts classes were held. Daycare doesn't quite sum up what they use the area for, but calling it the Orphanage was too dark. Steve waits through the decontamination process. Once through, he takes the time to pull his mask off and enjoy the feeling of an artificial breeze on his face before heading to the Daycare.

"Please tell me there's something useful in that box," Annie Click says when Steve pushes his way into one of the rooms they use for school. Another room is dedicated to being a daycare, kids too little for learning, another is schooling for kids who would be in middle school, and the last room is lines with beds.

"Sorry, Mrs. Click, but I didn't pack it," Steve says apologetically.

"My problem to sort out then," she stands and Steve can see the determination in her through the weariness. She'd been a bitter old lady as his teacher but the world ending must have shifted her priorities. There's no one better suited to look after the kids than her, here.

Except maybe Joyce, but she's got bigger things to deal with.

He heads for the door when Annie calls out to him, "Since you're here, would you mind checking on the kids for me? Holly's supervising bedtime but she's lenient with her friends."

"Will do."

He heads across the hall and down a door to the sleeping room. The lights are dimmed and peeking in he sees a lot of kids sleeping, or pretending their best to be. Holly is sitting in a rolling chair near the door, one leg bend and pulled up on the seat as she rests her head on it.

Steve clears his throat to get her attention. She must have heard his footsteps because she doesn't spook. Just uses the foot on the ground to spin the chair to face the door. "Oh. Hi Steve."

"All good here?" He whispers.

"Yeah. Everyone's asleep."

"You can probably head home now. Your dad's back."

Holly shrugs one shoulder at him, spinning the chair back away. "Maybe later."

Steve takes the hint and backs away. His chest aches for Holly. All the kids had to grow up fast, given the state of the world, but Holly's hurts him most. He knew her in the Before, and she was there when Karen... Well, she's got a lot of weight on her shoulders at barely eleven years old.

To think. If they'd have been faster on that Spring Break. More diligent, thorough. Holly might have never known about the Upside Down at all.

More regret he can carry, he thinks, as he shoves his mask back on and heads back to the truck. There's more to be unloaded, and always work around to keep him so busy he doesn't have to think of the regrets.

He works so late into the night that once he gets back to his cot and collapses into it, there are no thoughts let in his mind as sleep claims him.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @music9009 @apomaro-mellow @soaringornithopter @reighnofdreams @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @yearningagain @starlight-archer @andrew-mini-ard @chaosgremlinmunson @aol19 @goodolefashionedloverboi @gutterflower77 @moomkin77

[stagefoureddiediaz]

This season nothing. It sounds like he's gone gone after episode 17. The one thing he was kind of clear on was his disappointment in being finished.

This is very true Nonnie!

He definitely sounded like he was being overly gracious about Tim etc in the hope of more work in the future because he was done and he clearly knew next to nothing about anything much after the funeral.

My guess is there’ll be a couple of scenes outside of the funeral which will push buddie canon closer (and he probably doesn’t understand that’s what those scenes are about) and that’s all and he will slope off back to harbour never to be heard from again because he has served his purpose as a plot device!

[voidbeau]

Idk if you've already mentioned this, but...

WHO WOULD WIN IN A FIGHT

THORN OR MR. PLANT

OH WHAT A FUN QUESTION!!!

And im gonna yap about it more than I probably should or need to.

Cause no, i never got around to talk about this I don't think (was kinda self conscious about it) and I have absolutely thought about this. 👀

A lot.

It also entirely depends on the universe!

kinda long-ish sorry, but contains art. u vu/

In something more canon compliant, I think Mr. Plant would definitely come out the winner as he usually does. 🥴And poor Thorn would be not more than a smear and a memory if he didn't have Mr. Flower there to convince Mr. Plant not to just snap his neck immediately.

Though Thorn would definitely attempt to put up a fight.

Manz is feisty. And unfortunately, mouthy and stubborn enough to let it happen again if he survives the first encounter.

But considering all the things Thorn gets up to and has been involved with in a lot of my more fantastical AU settings- and how the rules of the Void may change depending on the AU, i think he and Mr. Plant would often be fairly matched but it also depends on the situation.

They wouldn't be allowed to kill each other but that doesn't mean they aren't gonna try to beat each other half to death when they get the chance.

They don't get along very well in a lot of my AUs lmaooo. Some are different, but I think the rivalry is fun!

ANYWAY

The way I see it, if you want to up your chances at surviving a Mr. Plant encounter, catch him off guard. Which might be hard, but Thorn is nothing if not a sneaky schemer.

I can still see Thorn getting knocked down a few pegs when it comes to Mr. Plant attacks, but Thorn can hit pretty hard too in a lot of cases and he's got plenty of horrid tricks up his sleeve if need be.

The definition of "playing fair" to Thorn may shift every so often for him.

But again, silly crazy AU's aside, all Thorn would amount to in a "normal setting" is a mouthy, fire loving, pesky business-type and business men haven't had a lot of success surviving Mr. Plant as we've seen. 🥴

But I can assure you, he'd go out with a shit eating grin on his face and a cigarette in his mouth in a lot of cases.

[all-our-turf]

(🌀)- Honestly for any of the warriors you would like. I’m just interested if you have any thoughts for this headcanon question.

[ 🌀 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a recurring dream or nightmare ?

i think all the warriors definitely get nightmares after the events of canon, especially surrounding fox's death for those that were there.

swan gets them the most frequently just because she feels so much guilt and blame for that night and refuses to talk about it, so it comes out in her nightmares.

cleon wasn't with them so she gets nightmares about finding out her warriors didn't make it home. i think cleon was also the most affected by watching cyrus get shot and the immediate chaos in van cortland park.

once ajax gets home she has nightmares about prison and the park.

as funny as the "he bit me" lines are, i think cowgirl has nightmares about the others getting hurt at the bizzie's loft because she blames herself for putting them in that situation.

this one is in general and not tied to that night, but i think rembrandt spends so much time climbing and high up that she frequently gets dreams of missing a step or falling - you know like the ones that jerk you awake?

send me a character + hc prompt from this list

[outofthiisworld]

👽// y'know, originally the ATLAS space station was supposed to be very far away from Earth (and while i do think it should either have far-travel capabilities or smaller stations that could do so)— it'd be neat if it could be seen orbiting the Earth. something something for humankind to literally look up to.

and it'd be even neater if, just like how you can sometimes see the moon during the day, that sometimes you can still see the floating remains of the now destroyed station from Earth too :)c

[gingermintpepper]

🌩️

For the ask game please :D

Thank you so much for the ask hehe!! I'm actually quite a bad measure of what's funny in my writing but most things involving Hermes tend to make me chuckle. Have something from my ongoing Hermapollo document!

"C'mon, you really tellin' me you never -" Apollo shakes his head once, the motion measured and elegant and so entirely not Artemis that Hermes is really thinking that whole twin thing is just a bit they feed the new kids for their own sick satisfaction. "But you love wide hips!" 

Surprisingly, the young sun god doesn't freak out and struggle to cover Hermes' mouth with an embarrassed hand like he was expecting. He doesn’t darken with anger or flush with irritation. There’s not even a little trace of the burning beast of wrath that threatened to damn him to Tartarus for stealing a few cows. It’s kind of creepy, honestly. Hermes ought to take him mortal watching on his next day out, maybe he just acts different when he’s on the mountain. 

Apollo's gaze is fixed on the delicate metalwork wrapped around the fountain's base. Hermes still feels as though he's looking at him with entirely too much intensity. It must be the crow nestled on his shoulder. "I also appreciate a wide back but you've never caught me pining after Ares." 

Hermes shrugs easily, "Not yet at least." 

Finally, Apollo's fingers stall, his brush blotting ink where it's still connected to the paper. "That's disgusting." 

A bright laugh erupts from Hermes, genuine enough that Apollo doesn't notice his now ruined study aa he marvels at this novel variation of Hermes' usual mischievous snicker. When he turns his attention back to his painting, a caustic frown sours his once dignified expression and Hermes nods internally around another fit of laughter. There's the Apollo he knows.

Disappointingly, his hair doesn't even flare, he simply rips the page out of the weighty sketchbook and washes the brush clean. Dips it in the empty black ink and begins anew. His crow doesn’t even ruffle its feathers. "Besides, it would be rude to Lady Cyprus" 

Hermes blinks. Stops for a fraction of a moment as he processes the information Apollo let slip with this new, blasé tone of his. A vicious smile bisects his face. "You're kiddin'."

Apollo doesn't grant him so much as a glance, "I wonder."

He immediately attaches himself to Apollo's side, mildly annoyed that the blond's stroke doesn't even waver - what a prick - but this bit of gossip takes hard precedence. "How'd you even find out?!"

Dispassionate gold eyes look down on him from behind too long and equally gold eyelashes. Actually, if Hermes really looks, there’s a sparkle in there, the same sort their father gets in his eyes before he issues a particularly troublesome task to some unfortunate servant. A soft wetness lands solidly on his forehead and when he catches himself, he realises its ink and Apollo's dumb lips are actually smiling now. He holds his brush out with elegant fingers and his crow hops atop it. "'Everything that happens beneath the sun', remember?" 

[cinerins]

The thing that pisses me off the most about the inhibitor chip retcon is that they act as if Order 66 is the primary directive while attributing the rest to a vague ✨️Mindcontrol✨️ obedience. The way TCW introduced the whole deal with Tup immediately trying to kill any Jedi in sight when his chip malfunctions was so incredibly stupid to me.

How does a "malfunction" like that even work? Why would it specifically trigger that response and not also any of the other contingency orders, like, I don't know, the one that has them blowing up an entire planet or arresting everyone in the room.

Yes, the clones' main purpose was as an effectively cruel way to kill 99.9% of germs Jedi but that was... hardly all of it. They're an intrinsic part of the imperial machine; there's a reason so many orders exist and that reason is control. If Palpatine only wanted to get rid of the Jedi, he could've just invested in assassins or a nuke, but that wasn't the point.

It's meant to be systematic. It's about how easily a democracy can slip into fascism simply by taking one step after another. That's why I personally preferred the idea of the clones being indoctrinated into following these orders; they were quite literally made and raised to think that way. They serve as the deliberate template that would help shape the galaxy in a way where soon enough willing participants would continue to take their place.

Pushing all of that off on a conventional mindcontrol chip just feels cheap and undermines the whole idea of how anyone could end up thinking that way. How despite all of their individuality and differences, at large, the clones still follow the same orders, the same expectations. And how much more meaningful it is when you question it and consciously choose to break away from it. To fight it.

[teecupangel]

"comes out of the coffin with a hot tea"

I HAVE AN IDEA! Stupid one... but still one! Another one of Desmond's being thrown into the past, but this time the apple has read too much about fainting Victorian women and made him in some sort sickly (We can make it as a backlash to almost dying and his burned arm). I mean.... what can i say! I just love the duality of a character that in one moments seems like a breeze can knock them down and in the next they win against you with only a stick in hand!

"sips some tea"

That would also made a good cover for Desmond! If he was trying to not put himself under the radar of his ancestors of course. Who would believe that the most sickly man in -put a city name here- is able to clime roofs, fight off the guards and also win without a scratch? Maybe Connor? Malik? Who knows! :D

"throws the coffin out the window and leaves through the door "

(stares the window for a moment… well, okay. I mean… I have no idea how a coffin could fit thru that but okay)

I mean… if you really want Desmond to have some kind of handicap of the ‘sickly’ kind, may I suggest the setup for “The Villainess's Days Are Numbered!” where the main character’s HP keeps getting depleted? This means... even taking one step gives him a -1HP penalty and stressful times (or any time he overexerts himself) gives him a double HP reduction penalty (which means that -1HP turns to -2HP). Oh, and his default HP is only 1210 and he can gain a max HP reduction if the circumstances call for it)... maybe even go down as far as 200 max HP, hhhhmmm?

This means we have the ‘joy’ of making Desmond have to maintain his HP XD

So Desmond has to be bedridden to keep his HP up before he does any ‘stunts’.

It would be funny if we place him in a very awkward position too.

For example…

Third Crusades? He’s one of Ṣalāḥ ad-Dīn’s children. Hell, he could be the son who took over Ḥalab so we have an excuse to place him during the time of Altaïr’s Chronicles.

Renaissance Italy? Make him the ‘child’ of one of the many clergymen against Rodrigo becoming pope to give an excuse for Ezio to ‘know’ of him. Bonus points? Make him a relative of Cardinal Ascanio Sforza

American Revolution? One of the Schuyler children (Philip Schuyler has a lot but you can pick one of the Schuyler sisters if you want to make this a Hamilton reference or if you just want Desmond to be part of all that drama in general XD)

The main point is… Desmond has to maintain his sickly body, all the while making plans how to screw up the timelines without anyone noticing it.

[soaps-mohawk]

Hey! I love your story so so much and I always look forward to new chapters!

I do have a question though. Is the whole General Shepard cameras thing still is part of the story? I feel like the buildup was so good and then it just disappeared and became unimportant. Like if the guys never find out about it, it's whatever.

I dont mean this as an insult to your writing at all, but I'm just wondering if it's gonna come back at all since it's been so long since it's been thought about by the mc.

Again, I love your work

You'll have to wait and see

[moe-broey]

hiiiii sliding in here to ask about the Alfonse-quotes blog. if you haven’t thought about it yet that’s fine but I wanted to know if you’re including the “Alfonse” quotes from Book IV? Bc that is technically Alfonse for most of the story but also not? I hope this isn’t rude or anything I’m just curious

have a great day!

No worries!!! That's... also a really good question, actually. I've only thought about it briefly, esp bc I'm still working my way up.

At first, my answer would have probably been Yes, but since seeing a specific post REALLY highlighting how "Alfonse's" speech patterns change, ever so slightly (... or maybe dramatically and you just do not think about it.), as Kiran. I'm actually really conflicted! Especially since the blog was made as a study guide, for me.

LIKE... there's still really important material to document and reference, here. Important analysis, too. But now there's a caveat. And I wonder if there's a way I can work around it... like, second purpose of the blog is a bit. So no context, makes the bit funnier. But I have been marking certain dialogue with emojis. I've been really strict with myself about it, as to not overcomplicate it. ⭐s indicate notable characterization, or favorite lines. 📝 Indicate important lore/storybeats, beyond individual characterization (esp lore that's easy to forget! Like Veronica's family situation, beyond Bruno). Maybe, what I'd end up doing is using a different specific emoji to indicate these are actually Kiran lines! Distinct from the notes (📝) one, as to not completely jumble it all together lmfao (would bother me, specifically.)

That's the best solution I have so far, because again, I do think there's some REALLY important characterization here that needs to be distinguished and considered carefully. Pre-twist, it's not just a study in Alfonse -- it's a study in Kiran, how they conceptualize Alfonse, how much they must know about him, to successfully act as him. Either subconsciously, almost reflexively (my interpretation first run, as a defense mechanism), or intentionally with full knowledge that they aren't who they claim to be (REALLY FASCINATING ANGLE. MUCH TO CONSIDER).

Also!!! Not rude at all LMFAOOO, I'm just excited I've got other people invested in this bit that I thought would only be funny to me 😊👍 (and... I do gotta add more.....)

[hellamorte]

ok but. does anyone have any thoughts about the purpose of creating the fake lyrium dagger rather than tricking solas with it later (which iirc occurred to them when rook already found their way out of the fade)??? i mean. are they stupid. did they really think they could recreate the dagger that could pierce the veil and set rook free?? it's not like they didn't know how much time it took ghilan'nain and elgar'nan to create their own?? didn't they realize that even if they could manage to make a dagger out of pure lyrium (HOW?!?!??????) it might not work??? because they're not that powerful????

[kedreeva]

did u read the good omens book? if so, what are your thoughts on it compared to the tv series?

i followed u for the steddie posts but fell in love with ur meta too 💜

I did, but honestly they're separate entities unless I want to steal something specific for a fic. They're both good, for different reasons and in different ways. They are written by different men, literally and figuratively, about different subject matters, for different reasons. You can compare an apple to an apple blossom, but even though one became the other, and came from the same tree, doesn't mean they are the same thing anymore, nor does it mean one is better than the other.

That being said, I've only read the book once, and I've watched the show over a dozen times, most likely because I saw the show first and read the book second. I enjoyed the book, but I think it was probably a better read in its day, by people who were the target audience at the time, and who didn't just read about or know the context, but understood and lived it. I can't be that, I can't go back in time and read the book before the series, I can't go back and read it in a time where it would have meant what it was intended to mean to the world it was born into.