#crash in the central state

[themainannoyance]

Nature Is Healing <3 (adding events to my Google Calendar again)

[newyorkstate-official]

Not only did i have the displeasure of seeing my first cybertruck but i also had the displeasure of driving through syracuse. its just one dick twist after another in the central region

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

Ok this is based on my surface level understanding of the Particle Accelerator that gave Barry Allen his powers. I’ve also only watched the show and it’s been a really long time since I’ve read the comics.

Dani is traveling through central city in order to help Danny with a favor. He suspects that theymight have some ectoplasm that they found near a crime scene (one of his ghost fights got out of hand, by the time he realized, he found got back with getting caught by his parents)

So Dani helps. She breaks into the forensics labs where they’re storing the ecto. She’s goes in her human form to not make anyone think she’s a supervillain.

There’s a scientist in the lab. Barry Allen.

She waits until hes looking away to grab the ecto.

She’s spotted before she can escape.

After a couple of awkward moments of silence, it’s broken by the lightning bolt.

From what I can find, the reason Barry’s the flash is because he was standing next to forensics equipment and chemicals. By logic, Dani is also standing next to said equipment and chemicals. One thing is different.

She’s holding the ecto.

-

Barry was found in a coma like state, and another girl, around 13 was found next to him. The officers who found them say that she was melting and resolidifying into green goo. She looked completely normal when she and Barry were loaded into the ambulance.

Dani didn’t have paper of a birth certificate, she’s a clone. Any DNA tests crashes the computer. Shes labeled as a Jane Doe.

She and Barry are kept in close proximity at the hospital because of their similar conditions.

(Danny and Jazz don’t know what happened to Dani. To them, she’s disappeared, dead most likely. They think she’s been taken by the GIW)

Barry wakes up after 9 months but Dani’s still in the coma. The Flash team monitors her progress from the lab, ready to help her if she develops the same powers as Barry.

Then, 3 month later, on the one year anniversary of the accident. Jane Doe awakes.

Cisco forges documents that says the Caitlin is the girl aunt, and Caitlin takes her to STAR labs for testing.

They ask her if she remembers what happened on the day of the accident. Dani does, but she’s not about to land in jail, so she pretends she doesn’t.

Dani didn’t turn into more or less of a ghost, that lightning strike gave her the powers but that ecto made her DNA less stable, although she didn’t know it at the time. It also gave her a power boost.

Flash gets a partner, named Flare, who’s almost as fast as he is.

Things are good.

Until Dani starts destabilizing mid-run.

Things are grim. Nobody knows how to help, and Dani isn’t coherent enough to help.

Jazz and Danny are visiting through central city, looking for schools for the both of them. Amity is too dangerous for Danny with the GIW and Jazz is looking to transfer away from Metropolis University (the Alien attacks are very annoying, at least in central she doesn’t have to deal with city wide destruction threats)

Barry runs into a teen that looks exactly like Dani, and kidnaps him.

It wasn’t his best thought, but the teen recognizes Dani.

They vanish in a burst of light. Dani is no where to be found.

Barry is devastated that he got his partner kidnapped. Until she returns, completely healthy.

[sirxlla]

Hey! Would you be willing to write a fic/preference about the bat boys with the reader during a tornado? Like maybe they are visiting her parents in the mid west and one night there's a bad tornado and they have to get into the bathroom/tornado shelter and the reader is scared or something? If not it's totally okay, hope you have a great day/night!

Experiencing a Tornado Warning/Severe Storms At Night (Batboys)

Note: Thanks for requesting this; I live in Tornado Alley and Storm Chase occasionally, so it's nice to write about something I know a lot about. 🌪 also I did more of a Tornado Warnings/Storms @ night.

-------------------------------------------------

-> Dick: The weather in Gotham has never been classed as normal; there have been snow storms, rain, droughts, and on the very rare occasion there are tornados. Usually, they weren't too bad, but between Ivy and Freeze's consistent needs to change the weather, they became more prominent here in Gotham, New Jersey.

Dick had gotten a weather radio for the apartment because, like smoke and carbon monoxide detectors, it is something that's good to have in your home.

A loud noise jolts you from your sleep and repeats a few times before a voice comes through talking about a tornado warning. Dick immediately got up, grabbed the emergency bags, Haley and you, and used you to the lowest level and most central part of the building.

You were still half asleep with the blanket around you, falling asleep on him while he diligently watched the radar. Thankfully the storm went just north of the city. He gazed at you and Haley passed out on the floor of the safe room.

"Of course." He smiled as he decided it would be better to just sleep in here tonight since you and she had curled up here so quickly. He laid down next to you and watched the weather for a bit before falling asleep next to you.

-> Jason: Loud noises don't normally bother Jason, but tonight has been awful. Every bout of thunder or flash of lightning was making him relive parts of his dark past.

Jason's the sweetest and worries about you often, and therefore, he tends to neglect his needs. You were sleeping like a baby next to him, blissfully unaware of the memories plaguing his mind. He wanted you to get sleep.

"Fuck, I wanna wake her, but I- I can't be selfish. She needs sleep." He thought to himself as he tried to ignore the thoughts in his brain; Jason put on headphones and scrolled through his music, picking something before another light crash happened outside, which caused him to jump so far in the bed.

You woke and quickly realized the problem, you weren't gonna touch him unless he asked or wanted you to. Times like this touch were either the thing he needed the most or the thing he needed the least, but before you could contemplate, the weather radio went off talking about an indicated Tornado Warning for Gotham City.

Your danger and his snapped Jason out of PTSD mode into protector mode, he pushed any anxiety from his mind and quickly grabbed your hand.

"Baby, we should get in the Batcave. It's the safest place near here, and it's underground." He stated as he pulled you up out of bed, grabbing one of his hoodies for you so you're not cold downstairs.

"Are you okay still?" You asked with worry in your eyes but he says nothing as he's so focused on getting you both downstairs. Once you get there, you ask again, but he just kinda brushes off the question with a "I'm fine."

As you both get down to the cave things settle down sound wise and he starts to feel calm and the tiredness he'd been pushing off, he laid between your legs just to wait for the storms to pass but sleep won out and he's now curled up against your leg leaving a spot of drool on the thin pajama pants you're wearing. The storm passed without any tornado on the ground, thank the Gods.

-> Bruce: Bruce was prepared because, of course, he is; he's Batman. Bruce knew there were supposed to be storms and warned everyone in the family about them. He made you take off work. He was so worried; thankfully, you work for...you guessed it, Bruce Wayne.

Bruce always made sure to take care of you, you're irreplaceable and he'd die inside if you ever got hurt or worse. Bruce watched the storms carefully and knew there was gonna be a Tornado Warning before the National Weather Service even put out a Warning.

He didn't need to move you or wake you as you slept peacefully in the room down here in the Batcave. Bruce had this room for when he was too tired to go upstairs or when he didn't want to wake you from his nightly criminal rendezvous.

He sat down in the bed with you with a tablet in his hand to monitor the storms. Bruce's fingers caressed your cheek as you slept, your lips slightly parted. Bruce thinks it's the most beautiful thing ever when you sleep, even though you'd protest it.

-> Tim: Most of the time, you couldn't sleep if there was going to be bad weather anyway. Usually, you'd get migraines. Tim always had sudafed on him so you could relieve the pressure, but tonight, that just wasn't helping.

Tim decided a movie might help, so you and him both moved to the theatre downstairs of the manor. The both of you are just on the cusp of sleep when everyone comes rushing in to use this room as a safe room. Confusion filled both your and Tim's faces.

"What's going on?"

"Yeah, what's going on?" You spoke after Tim as you sleepily rubbed your eyes, sitting up a bit as you realized everyone's urgency.

"There is a tornado warning for the house; the caves are too dangerous to be in during any natural emergency. We should be fine in here, you two are fine where you are. I'll watch the weather, all you kids get some sleep." Bruce says with that same serious, prepared tone in his voice as he looks at all his children, unnerved for the first time in a long time. Gotham has never had a tornado warning in the past hundred fifty years.

Everyone tries to calm themselves as they experience this phenomenon for the first time. Tim notices your discomfort and rubs your temples, the tornado warning was doing nothing good for the migraine pulsating against your skull.

Everyone watched the movie as the storm raged on, Tim's fingers gently pressed against your temples, rubbing slow circles against the skin the entire time. Relief fills your head as the storm passes due to the storm stabilizing the pressure in the area. Finally, you've fallen asleep after an extremely long night and early morning.

-> Damian: Damian, much like his father, is prepared for bad weather; it does not bother him either, and his room is in the basement, so he doesn't really mind when there are storms, and normally, neither do you. There's a tornado warning in the area, but of course, Damian's monitoring the storm the same way his father probably is.

Everything was going well, and you slept soundly until a loud bit of thunder crashed; it shook the house with how close it was, causing you to shoot out of bed, and tears immediately filled your eyes as you cried in fear.

Normally, lightning and storms aren't an issue for you; Damian knows that. Something about it being so close was causing you to cry, which is understandable to him; it shook him maybe just as much as you, but of course, you were sleeping, so it was pure shock as well. Damian immediately wraps his arms around you, kissing your cheeks.

"Shhhh....hush, Beloved. I'm here...." He rubbed your sides and whispered to you quietly until you calmed down. Damian could be sweet when he wanted to be, he could be gentle and kind, but it wasn't something readily available to people that weren't allowed inside his walls. He kept rubbing your sides and whispering until he noticed you started to doze off.

"Shhhh...it's alright. I'm here." He glanced over at his phone as he watched the storm's track along the northeast, noticing they dropped the tornado warning. He let out a bout of relief and climbed back into bed with you, holding you close especially because of how scared you were before going back to sleep.

-> Masterlist

-> Send me requests/ prompts if you'd like

[meridasblog]

The White Rabbit's promise

Realizing there aren't many stories about this villain from a poorly told tale, I decided to write my own. However, this story goes much further back, before this man became one of the most feared demonic terrorists. It's the story of that man who once had only one mission: to give his family, the Makains, a better place to call home.

But...what if this White Rabbit... had been followed by his own Alice to the land of demons?

Chapter one

Long ago, in an already well-known world, lived two children—a boy and a girl—whose lives, once painted in shades of gray, slowly began to take color.

The girl's name, when spoken aloud, always carried the warmth of a sunrise. The boy’s name… remains unknown to our ears, or at least, it’s not one we can pronounce without pain. They found a home in a land that wasn’t theirs. And though it wasn't quite like their favorite tale, it surely was a place of wonder. There were no mad hatters or smiling cats that could disappear… there was a rabbit. A White Rabbit. One who ran not because he was late, but because he had already lost everything that mattered.

But I’m getting ahead of myself; let’s go back to the time before we fell down the rabbit hole.

New York, 1980

As the sun rises once more, another day awakens in the Big Apple. The car horns tangled in Fifth Avenue's morning traffic serve as music to the ears of New Yorkers. Times Square, with its modern lack of corporate personality, glitters with hollow grandeur. Central Park, fragrant with wet grass and kissed by sunlight, becomes the perfect place for wandering thoughts. People move through the streets, slipping into yet another chapter of their monotonous lives.

Sitting by a window in a condominium near the Empire State Building is a little girl with a lost look —one of those that give you the understanding that she is not in this world right now. Her wine-red hair, tied loosely in a side braid, moves gently in the warm caress of the wind. Her eyes, dark as coffee beans, scan the streets of the neighborhood, capturing them in her notebook. She wears a blue dress adorned with delicate silver floral patterns, a light cream-white vest, and black strap shoes.

She runs her pencil over the paper with the gentleness of a mother's touch. Humming softly, she focuses on what is yet another drawing for her collection. But the moment is ruined when a loud crash startles her, causing the pencil to fly and scratch the paper.

Her brow furrows in frustration; her once-peaceful expression is now one of annoyance. She sets the notebook aside and goes to confront the source of the noise. When she opens the door, she finds her bothersome brothers fighting—again.

"Hey! I was drawing, you idiots!" she shouts, fists clenched in frustration, but they ignore her completely. The girl sighs, resigned. No matter how much she tries to talk to them, it's like speaking to a wall. Such are her days since she arrived at this supposed home.

“Ah… why do I even bother?" she thinks, sadly, walking downstairs.

Just then, the doorbell rings. “Must be the mail,” she thinks disinterestedly. But it rings again, and that makes her pause. The mailman usually doesn't ring twice. Curiosity piqued, she crouches down and peers through the wooden bars of the staircase.

Her parents answer the door. Her eyes scan the man: overweight, pale-skinned, with thinning hair and a thin, curly mustache. What catches her attention are the papers he's carrying. When her “mom” takes them, she recognizes the stamp

"A social worker? That means—" that's when she sees the other one. A boy with his eyes fixed to the ground; his hair black as a raven's plumage; his skin tanned yet pale; his clothes, baggy and somewhat formal, though a bit sloppy. When he looks up, she catches sight of his eyes— dark gray like storm clouds or slate stones. She frowns slightly, not from distrust but from a strange curiosity and interest.

Their eyes meet for a second. In those sad eyes, she sees a faint gleam. But the moment is broken when her brothers crash into the scene, one choking the other. The boy glances at them, and his face tightens with fear.

She watches him with concern. She knows now he'll be staying with them… and what that will mean. The only thing that she does is look away and climbs back upstairs. She no longer even remembers what she had come down for in the first place.

Minutes later

The sound of a toilet flushing echoes from the bathroom. The door opens, and the girl steps out, drying her hands. Distracted, she walks toward her room, still hearing the absurd bickering of her siblings.

Just a few steps away, she notices a shadow pass across the floor in her room. She frowns—surely one of them have invaded her space again. She speeds up and reaches the doorway.

"Hey, I told you to not—!"

The shout startles the intruder, who drops the book he is holding and bumps into her desk, knocking some pages to the ground. Her frown softens as she realizes it's the newcomer.

"I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to barge in." The boy stammers nervously.

"No, no, you forgive me instead. I thought you were one of those... those redneck Carson kids." Her tone shifts from embarrassment to irritation.

"Y-you mean your brothers?"

"Please, they're more closely related to apes than to me."

"But you're not their…."

"Sister?"

The boy nods; she just looks down.

"I don't even come close to being part of this family."

She walks past him and grabs her sketchbook from the window sill. She rips out the ruined drawing, tosses it in the trash, and quietly closes the notebook.

"Believe me when I say I'm not." She adds as she begins picking up the scattered pages—only to spot the book he dropped. She picks it up and examines the cover.

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

Her eyes wander over to the cover, and she runs her fingers gently across it. She turns to him, who looks nervous and ashamed, clearly expecting mockery. But instead, she offers his book back to him with a warm smile. He hesitates, then takes it. She walks to the desk and shows him one of her pages.

"This is my favorite character. Of course, I've always loved white rabbits—they're so cute." She says it with a smile. "Look, here I have a drawing of Alice and Cheshire."

She hurries to find the drawing but stops when she sees his still-surprised expression, tinged with shyness.

"Hey, I don't bite," she says, amused. She pulls out a worn notebook from her drawer. Inside, there are sketches of characters and scenes from the book, and even some that blend the city with Wonderland.

"It'd be great to live among wonders, don't you think?"

She smiles at him. He looks at her, and again she sees that same glimmer in his eyes. He smiles faintly.

She extends her hand.

"My name is Y/N. What's yours?"

Draw made by: https://www.deviantart.com/heroika/art/Conejo-Blanco-144697529

[mariacallous]

My earliest memory of 4chan was sitting up late at night, typing its URL into my browser, and scrolling through a thread of LOLcat memes, which were brand-new at the time.

Back then a photoshop of a cat saying "I can has cheezburger" or an image of an owl saying “ORLY?” was, without question, the funniest thing my 14-year-old brain had ever laid eyes on. So much so, I woke my dad up by laughing too hard and had to tell him that I was scrolling through pictures of cats at 2 in the morning. Later, I would become intimately familiar with the site’s much more nefarious tendencies.

It's strange to look back at 4chan, apparently wiped off the internet entirely last week by hackers from a rival message board, and think about how many different websites it was over its more than two decades online. What began as a hub for internet culture and an anonymous way station for the internet's anarchic true believers devolved over the years into a fan club for mass shooters, the central node of Gamergate, and the beating heart of far-right fascism around the world—a virus that infected every facet of our lives, from the slang we use to the politicians we vote for. But the site itself had been frozen in amber since the George W. Bush administration.

It is likely that there will never be a site like 4chan again—which is, likely, a very good thing. But it had also essentially already succeeded at its core project: chewing up the world and spitting it back out in its own image. Everything—from X to Facebook to YouTube—now sort of feels like 4chan. Which makes you wonder why it even needed to still exist.

"The novelty of a website devoted to shock and gore, and the rebelliousness inherent in it, dies when your opinions become the official policy of the world's five or so richest people and the government of the United States," the Onion CEO and former extremism reporter Ben Collins tells WIRED. “Like any ostensibly nihilist cultural phenomenon, it inherently dies if that phenomenon itself becomes The Man.”

My first experience with the more toxic side of the site came several years after my LOLcat all-nighter, when I was in college. I was a big Tumblr user—all my friends were on there—and for about a year or so, our corner of the platform felt like an extension of the house parties we would throw. That cozy vibe came crashing down for me when I got doxed the summer going into my senior year. Someone made a “hate blog” for me—one of the first times I felt the dark presence of an anonymous stranger’s digital ire, and posted my phone number on 4chan.

They played a prank that was popular on the site at the time, writing in a thread that my phone number was for a GameStop store that had a copy of the ultra-rare video game Battletoads. I received no less than 250 phone calls over the next 48 hours asking if I had a copy of the game.

Many of the 4chan users that called me mid-Battletoad attack left messages. I listened to all of them. A pattern quickly emerged: young men, clearly nervous to even leave a message, trying to harass a stranger for, seemingly, the hell of it. Those voicemails have never left me in the 15 years I've spent covering 4chan as a journalist.

I had a front-row seat to the way those timid men morphed into the violent, seething underbelly of the internet. The throbbing engine of reactionary hatred that resented everything and everyone simply because resentment was the only language its users knew how to speak. I traveled the world in the 2010s, tracing 4chan’s impact on global democracy. I followed it to France, Germany, Japan, and Brazil as 4chan's users became increasingly convinced that they could take over the planet through racist memes, far-right populism, and cyberbullying. And, in a way, they did. But the ubiquity of 4chan culture ended up being an oddly Pyrrhic victory for the site itself.

Collins, like me, closely followed 4chan's rise in the 2010s from internet backwater to unofficial propaganda organ of the Trump administration. As he sees it, once Elon Musk bought Twitter in 2022 there was really no point to 4chan anymore. Why hide behind anonymity if a billionaire lets you post the same kind of extremist content under your real name and even pays you for it?

4chan’s “user base just moved into a bigger ballpark and started immediately impacting American life and policy," Collins says. "Twitter became 4chan, then the 4chanified Twitter became the United States government. Its usefulness as an ammo dump in the culture war was diminished when they were saying things you would now hear every day on Twitter, then six months later out of the mouths of an administration official."

But understanding how 4chan went from the home of cat memes to a true internet bogeyman requires an understanding of how the site actually worked. Its features were often overlooked amid all the conversations about the site's political influence, but I'd argue they were equally, if not more, important.

4chan was founded by Christopher “Moot” Poole when he was 15. A regular user on slightly less anarchic comedy site Something Awful, Poole created a spinoff site for a message board there called “Anime Death Tentacle Rape Whorehouse.” Poole was a fan of the Japanese message board 2chan, or Futaba Channel, and wanted to give Western anime fans their own version, so he poorly translated the site's code and promoted his new site, 4chan, to Something Awful's anime community. Several core features were ported over in the process.

4chan users were anonymous, threads weren't permanent and would time out or "404" after a period of inactivity, and there were dozens of sub-boards you could post to. That unique combination of ephemerality, anonymity, and organized chaos proved to be a potent mix, immediately creating a race-to-the-bottom gutter culture unlike anything else on the web. The dark end point of the techno-utopianism that built the internet. On 4chan you were no one, and nothing you did mattered unless it was so shocking, so repulsive, so hateful that someone else noticed and decided to screenshot it before it disappeared into the digital ether.

"The iconic memes that came out of 4chan are because people took the time to save it, you know? And the fact that nobody predicted, nobody could predict or control what was saved or what wasn't saved, I think, is really, really fascinating," Cates Holderness, Tumblr's former head of editorial, tells WIRED.

Still, 4chan was more complicated than it looked from the outside. The site was organized into dozens of smaller sections, everything from comics to cooking to video games to, of course, pornography. Holderness says she learned to make bread during the pandemic thanks to 4chan's cooking board. (Full disclosure: I introduced Holderness to 4chan way back in 2012.)

"When I switched to sourdough, I got really good pointers," she says.

Holderness calls 4chan the internet's “Wild West” and says its demise this month felt appropriate in a way. The chaos that defined 4chan, both the good and the very, very bad, has largely been paved over by corporate platforms and their algorithms now.

Our feeds deliver us content; we don't have to hunt for it. We don't have to sit in front of a computer refreshing a page to find out whether we're getting a new cat meme or a new manifesto. The humanness of that era of the web, now that 4chan is gone, is likely never coming back. And we'll eventually find out if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"The snippets that we have of what 4chan was—it's all skewed,” Holderness says. “There is no record. There's no record that can ever encapsulate what 4chan was."

[milkloafy]

HEY, BEAUTIFUL STRANGER — DAN HENG

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: in which you are trying to enjoy the wardance on the luofu, the ipc guards ruin everything, and a beautiful stranger comes to help you.  ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: fluff, first meetings (at least in this lifetime…), fem!reader, vidyadhara!reader, reader is anti-ipc uwu, warning for shitty sexist pathetic ipc guards who try to harass reader >:( ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.7k+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: was playing the 2.4 update and this idea was spawned <3 i missed my mans !! was so happy for the dan heng content i can live well again :3 also i hate the ipc so if ur an ipc lover i would scroll past this fic :>

You knew you were capable of defending yourself. 

Verbally, at least.

You were once a distinguished Vidyadhara healer in your past life, aiding in the war efforts to heal wounded fighters on the field, and you were no less capable now in your more normal current life. However, being gifted in the Cloudhymn magic that specialized in healing powers did not mean that same strength carried onto the powers that could part seas and send waves crashing down. 

In short, while you hoped you could be intimidating and defend yourself when needed, in actuality, your physical prowess…lacked. 

Still, you never would have guessed that one of the most humiliating moments in your life would come during a time of festivities at the Wardance when some IPC guards decided to stir up trouble with the unfortunate passerby who accidentally bumped into them on the streets of the Luofu. 

And to be clear, you were that unfortunate passerby. 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going,” sneered an IPC guard as you tripped in front of them, getting distracted by the bustle of Starskiff Central and not noticing the curb beneath your feet. The guard looked to his friend and shook his head with a scoff. “These people here.”

“How shameful of me to have never known the IPC was full of such charming and chivalrous men,” you said sweetly with a smile dripping of honeyed poison as you pushed yourself off the floor and dusted off your skirt with a swift flick of your hands. “I appreciate you both so much for partaking in the simplest task of helping a fallen damsel and being decent humans.” 

The guard who had yet to talk finally spoke up. And you truly wish he hadn’t. 

“You know, you could actually be pretty if you didn’t have such an big mouth,” he said, his metallic voice grating your ears as you fought off the urge to roll your eyes. “Maybe I would’ve helped you up if you just sat there and said sorry instead.”

You folded your arms lazily, a yawn coming out of you from having to engage in such a bothersome and useless conversation. Still, you couldn’t help yourself from continuing to bite back. If there was one flaw about you, it was perhaps that your mouth went running off before your brain and legs could catch up. 

“It’s rather humorous of you to assume I’d want your help in the first place,” you stated as you looked at the guards’ IPC uniforms in disdain. What business would you want with such pathetic interstellar colonizers? “It is also appalling that you place yourself in such high of a pedestal that you would assume I care about what you think of me.” Before the guards could reply, you flipped your hair behind your shoulder and turned sharply on your heels. “Now, this conversation has taken up too much of my time. I have a festival to enjoy. So, if you would please excuse me—”

You felt a heavy hand grab your elbow to prevent you from walking away. Blowing air out of your mouth, you gritted your teeth and tugged your arm to no avail. 

You silently cursed yourself for never taking up martial arts. As much as you liked watching the performances, you personally believed you had seen enough violence in your past life and didn’t see the need to learn any swordsmanship in your current reincarnation. 

All your past lives were cursing at your arrogance now, you could feel it. Or perhaps it was just you internally scolding yourself. 

How much more badass would it be if you had the strength to easily shove the IPC guard’s out of the way and carry on with the Wardance? Instead, you were like a fly caught in a sticky trap, kicking and fighting with no real chance of escape. It was hopeless and embarrassing. 

You felt your face grew hot with humiliation. This is why past you stuck with healing, it seemed. 

“Oh, how cute,” the first IPC guard snickered, looking down at you with a patronizing grin. “Look who finally shut up. If I knew some force was all it would take, I would’ve done this much earlier instead of listening to you talk and talk about how much you—”

“Can you finish talking already?” you asked impatiently, tapping your foot on the floor. “You’re too close to me and your breath stinks.” 

His grip tightened in anger and you hoped he couldn’t see the grimace on your face from the slight feeling of pain in your arm. 

You really did it this time, you thought dryly to yourself. Pissed off the IPC guards just by tripping and opening your mouth. This would be your shortest life yet, at this rate.

Surprisingly, the feeling of pain didn’t last long and a soothing wave of comfort washed over you instead. Your body knew before your eyes could see— A Vidyadhara was around you, helping you. Not only that, but the smallest part of you felt they seemed the slightest bit familiar. 

“Is everything alright here?” a cautious, yet firm, voice asked. 

You looked up and saw a man step in front of you and swiftly yank the guard’s hand away from your arm. The force seemed minimal and effortless, but you knew this familiar stranger had to be strong to fight the burly guard off so easily. 

“That’s none of your business,” scoffed the guard on the left.

Your newfound savior stood resolute and unwavering. “I desire no involvement in your affairs. I only wish to ensure the safety of the Wardance attendees.”

“And you think we’re a threat to safety?” questioned the IPC guard, folding his arms over his chest and frowning. “Seems to me like you’re targeting the IPC. What will they think of the Xianzhou Luofu endlessly bothering the IPC? First, the cargo, now, this.” 

The man in front of you simply shrugged. “Believe what you will.” Instead of engaging in the endless bickering any longer, he turned around and offered you a smile. “Would you like me to escort you to the festivities, miss?” 

Quirking your head to the side, you grinned back and nodded playfully. “Yes, please! You seem like much better company than these idiots over here.” 

“You brat—!”

Eyes widening as the IPC guards began to draw their weapons, you exchanged glances with the grey-eyed man grabbed his wrist, running head first into the crowd and away from the guards with him only a step behind you. 

You would be the death of yourself one day, with no one else to blame, you were sure of it. But for today, you escaped happily. With a cute boy in tow. Somehow, you felt like you won this time. 

Once you were certain the guards lost you, you finally slowed down to catch you breath, a wide smile on your face when you noticed the man stopping next to you, realizing that meant he dutifully followed you amidst the crowd. 

“Thank you for your help…” you trailed off, prompting him for his name. 

“Dan Heng,” he introduced with a nod of greeting. 

“Dan Heng,” you repeated with a chirp. “I’m not sure if I could’ve removed myself from that situation safely without you.” 

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “My intuition tells me you would have found a way. Still, I’m glad to be of assistance.” 

You looked around at the booths around you. The streets weren’t filled with vendors like Aurum Alley, but it had its fair share of food stalls littered around. The smell of sweet berrypheasant fruit filled your senses as you immediately perked up at the thought of a treat after a tiresome encounter. 

“Can I get you a little something to show my gratitude?” you asked, with a hopeful glint in your eyes. For whatever reason, you felt comfort and familiarity around Dan Heng. A remnant from your past lives, you considered. “It’s nothing big! But the best berrypheasant skewers are nearby. This food stall even coats the fruit in melted sugar! You have to try it.”

Dan Heng hummed to himself, as if genuinely considering your offer. “I do have to return to the Palace of Astrum soon, but a short detour for some snacks wouldn’t hurt.” He gave you a small smile as he finally made his decision. “Okay, I will join you.”

You clasped your hands together in excitement, leading him over to the beloved skewers you were talking about. 

It took almost getting your ass handed to you by two meathead guards, but at least you managed to meet Dan Heng along the way. Whoever he was.

“Do I seem familiar to you, too?” you blurted without thinking. 

His step faltered but he continued on after a brief pause. “It’s vague, in all honesty. But…yes. There’s some sort of subtle tug.” 

You noticed his slight tone of discomfort and decided not to press the subject. Even if there was a sense of familiarity between the two of you, it was likely in your past lives. And for some Vidyadhara, they preferred the past stayed in the past. Or, they would at least prefer not to share their past with a completely random stranger such as yourself. While that wasn’t the case for you since you seemed to lack self-preservation, you truly wanted respect that about Dan Heng. 

“Cool!” you said simply, quickly changing topics. “Now let’s get some fruit skewers!” 

Slightly taken aback, he bit out a noise of laughter and stood in line next to you. “Gladly.”

You looked up at him with a smile. “And maybe, we can get to know some more about each other. Our current lives.” 

Dan Heng nodded in agreement. “There is still some time before I have to return to the Express. I would enjoy getting to know you more before then.” 

Ecstatic that he agreed, you ordered some fruit skewers and handed one over to him. The two of you happily crunched on the delightful treat and shared a moment of contentment. 

You smiled to yourself as you exhaled happily. Dan Heng requested another skewer and shared a piece with you. 

Nothing could beat good company and a sweet treat. 

For once—just this once—something good came out of the IPC. 

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Little Mustang on the Loose || Roy Mustang ||

A/n: I got like no sleep cause I stayed up playing Monster Hunter.

Roy Mustang, the Führer-President of Amestris, prided himself on many things—his sharp mind, his impeccable leadership, and his mastery over flame alchemy. But today, he prided himself most on something far greater: taking you his wife—his stunning, formidable wife—on a well-deserved date.

“I’m entrusting you all with my son,” Roy stated, adjusting his gloves as he handed his two-year-old, chubby-cheeked bundle of chaos to his subordinates. The child blinked up at them with his big, dark eyes, his tiny hands clutching onto his father’s pristine military coat.

Jean Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and Falman stood in a line, nervously saluting. The kid looked harmless enough, but they all knew Mustang’s smirk held the weight of an unspoken threat—if anything happened to his son, they would not live to see another sunrise.

“Riza is busy with actual work,” Roy continued, knowing full well she would have shot down this entire arrangement had she been here. “So I expect the rest of you to handle one small child for a few hours.”

Havoc scratched his head. “Sir, no offense, but—uh, are you sure about this? I mean, kids are—well—fast.”

“My son is very well-behaved,” Roy said smugly, ruffling the toddler’s dark curls. “You won’t even know he’s there.”

You gave him a knowing side-eye but said nothing, merely pressing a kiss to her son’s forehead before taking Roy’s arm. "The four of you will be fine."

And then, with one last look of warning, the Führer-President and his wife left for their long-awaited date. You cooing at your son while Roy practically dragged you out the door.

Thirty Minutes Later…

“Okay, so, this isn’t that bad,” Havoc said, lounging back on the couch in Mustang’s office while Fuery made funny faces at the baby. “Kid’s just sitting there playing with his little—uh, what is that? A tiny alchemy glove?”

“It’s just a regular glove,” Falman corrected. “But look at his chubby little hands. He can barely get it on.”

Breda snorted. “Man, he really is Roy’s kid, huh?”

Everything was peaceful. For about five minutes.And then—disaster struck.

It started when Fuery, trying to adjust his glasses, absentmindedly set the child down for a moment.

That moment was all it took.

One second, the boy was sitting there, giggling sweetly. The next, he was gone.

“Where’d he go?” Havoc asked, suddenly alert.

Fuery’s face paled. “Oh no.”

The office door was slightly ajar.

The toddler had escaped.

A silence fell over the room.

Then—

“Oh, shit.”

The hallways of Central Command were no match for a determined toddler with tiny but surprisingly fast legs.

Havoc, cigarette barely hanging from his lips, sprinted down the halls, yelling, “He went left! No—right!”

Breda, panting, skidded to a stop. “How can someone so round be so fast?!”

The baby cackled—a high-pitched, mischievous laugh—before making a sharp turn and disappearing under a desk.

“HE’S LIKE A MINIATURE MUSTANG!” Fuery wailed, crawling after him.

Falman, usually calm and collected, was now horrified. “Do you have any idea what will happen if we lose the Führer’s son?!”

Breda, in a rare moment of sheer panic, grabbed Havoc’s shoulders. “We’re all gonna die. Mustang is gonna incinerate us one by one—oh my god, we’re dead men.”

Meanwhile, the toddler had somehow managed to make his way to the mess hall, where several high-ranking officers were now standing on chairs as the tiny menace pulled at tablecloths, sending trays of food crashing to the floor.

Major Armstrong, upon seeing the chaos, gasped dramatically and attempted to assist. “FEAR NOT, BRAVE LITTLE ONE! I SHALL LIFT YOU TO SAFETY WITH THE POWER OF—”

The baby bit him.

“…Strong teeth,” Armstrong whimpered, tears streaming down his face.

Breda, hands on his knees, tried to catch his breath. “We need a strategy. He’s too unpredictable.”

"He's just a baby!" Furey fixed his glasses though his head looked around and before they could form a plan—the toddler disappeared again.

Final Boss: Führer Mustang’s Office

After what felt like an eternity of chasing the child through Central HQ, they finally tracked the little gremlin down to Mustang’s office.

But by the time they got there—it was too late.

The toddler had somehow managed to climb onto Roy’s desk.

More importantly—

He had found his father’s gloves.

The tiny, chubby hands clapped together and then a small poof of smoke rose from the desk.

The baby stared at his work, wide-eyed. “Oooh.”

Silence.

Fuery let out weak (stressed) laugh “…He’s learning.”

Falman swallowed. "God help us all.”

Havoc wiped a hand down his face. “Okay, okay—no one has to know about this. We just get the gloves away from him before Mustang—”

Then, the door creaked open.

Roy Mustang and you stood there.You took one look at your grinning, soot-covered son and sighed.

Roy, on the other hand, slowly turned to his men, his gaze dark, dangerous, and promising pain.

“Explain,” he said.

Breda weakly raised his hand. “Uh… funny story?”

The Führer-President cracked his knuckles.

Havoc gulped.

“We’re so dead.”

[embershroud108]

Thinking again about how the last we see of Isha it’s from Vi’s perspective, not Jinx’s, and what an interesting, and seemingly odd choice that is given how much closer Isha was to Jinx.

And after mulling it over for awhile I kind of feel that Isha is actually the linchpin of Vi’s whole arc in season 2, perhaps even more so than she is for Jinx.

I saw someone awhile back point out that Isha appears in Jinx’s life right after Vi officially joins the enforcers and makes the commitment to hunt her sister down (the sister who she in fact disowns). Isha basically takes up the loving, protective sister role with Jinx that Vi chooses to abdicate at the beginning of the season. Jinx even states (or at least suggests) that her relationship with Isha is what she wishes her relationship with Vi could have been.

When Vi crashes out between acts 1 and 2 she completely loses that protector aspect that’s been so central to her character. She basically becomes just a mindlessly violent brute that fights because she has nothing else left to do. Isha is the vehicle through which Vi regains that protector role. Not only does Vi directly protect Isha in eps 3 and 5, but Isha indirectly reconciles the sisters by allowing Vi to see Jinx’s humanity and (indirectly) reminding her that Jinx is still her sister.

And then at the end of ep6 one of the last things Isha sees is Vi holding Jinx back, Vi *protecting* Jinx again. It’s as if Isha took on the responsibility that Vi had forgotten about or tried to get rid of until Vi was ready to pick it back up again.

Then, in ep8, after Vi’s striking dream-vision of Isha, the first thing Vi does when she wakes up is go defend Jinx to Caitlyn.

[ameliathornromance]

The house you had been living in had seriously dilapidated after your parents had died.

Since you had little to no help, living far out and away from the nearest village – which was just under five miles walk – there wasn’t a lot you could do in the first place.

So you’d let the broken tiles on your roof, be broken and when rain came, let the water leak into your room and drip, drip with the tone of a metronome. You’d let the walls foundations crack and climb up to the ceilings of your house and let the doors hinges to each room in the house rust and stiffen open so that you could no longer close nor open them.

While you had tried to fix the problems yourself initially, they proved a lot more difficult than you would have thought.

The door hinges would not budge from the wooden thresholds, no matter how hard you tried to unscrew them, when you tried to re-plaster the walls, the thick cement smelling sludge would either become watery and the cracks reappear, or the mixture was just too thick and would take whole chunks of the wall with it, as it crashed onto your now rotting wooden floorboards.

Needless to say, you were not in the best spot. The only room that didn’t seem to be effected by the house falling apart, was the kitchen. All the cabinets worked, the sink still delivered clean water and the fire pit for cooking hadn’t failed you once.

One day, a hankering for blueberry pie got the better of you. You hadn’t made one since your parents had died and figured it would do you some good to get out of the house and then come back to make a deliciously sweet treat.

And so you’d set out into the forest, wicker basket hanging off the crook of your arm and waiting to be filled.

Once you had found the blueberry bushes deep within the forest, you began to pick and completely forgot about your surroundings. You don’t know how long you must have been there, for all you knew it could have been hours.

It wasn’t until the trees became still and the birds twittering and chittering had been silenced that you were brought out of your meditative state. Living in the woods for a long time, you get used to the sound of wildlife.

It isn’t until that wildlife goes silent that you realize when you’re in danger.

Confirming your suspicions, a low grumbled reverberated in your chest, the hairs on your neck standing on end.

You turned from your spot by the blueberry bushes and watched as a pack of wolves surrounded you, their teeth bared, hackles raised, their backs dipped as they readied their attack.

Eyes darting around, you searched for an escape route. It’s not like you could dart between them, they’d rip you apart like a chew toy.

Jumping over the bushes was a no go as well, the moment you’re in the air, they would strike and then you’d really be in trouble.

With the wicker basket still squeezed between your elbow, you instinctively gripped it as you realised that this situation was as helpless as it looked.

This was it. You were going to die here.

Just as your thought had finished, the wolf central to your vision let out a bark and lunged, spring boarding off it’s back paws, jaws open and aiming straight for your neck.

You squeezed your eyes tightly closed, threw your arms up to protect yourself, braced yourself for the feeling of teeth ripping at your flesh, the feeling of your warm blood spilling down your front.

But instead, the wolf gave a yelp, followed by a whimper.

You squinted open your eyes, ready to shut them again at the first sign of danger.

A wall of green, thick muscle stood in front of you, the pack leader clasped in this monster’s hands.

“Back!” He snarled. And as if he were throwing a baseball, he threw the creature to the ground.

As soon as the wolf had hit the ground, it had scrambled up, still whimpering. It scuttled away, pack following after it with their tails between their legs.

Heart in your throat, chest thumping like a drum, you looked up at your saviour.

It was an Orc.

Exactly as described by your parents as a child: Tall, walls of muscle with green skin that pulled taught over the strong flesh of their body.

Long, yellow tusks that jutted out from its bottom jaws as it turned to face you. It’s long dark hair had been tied into a low pony tail that swayed with his massive figure as he grunted at you, “are you alright?”

Still reeling from the wolf encounter, you nodded, words escaping you.

“Do you live nearby?” He asked.

You nodded again. His steel cold eyes examined you for a moment, completely enrapturing you.

“Come, let me walk you home.” He placed a hand between your shoulder blades and began to guide you away from the scene of the battle from the wolves.

“Oh?” You said, surprised. “O-Okay.”

The pair of you walked back in silence as you processed what had just happened; Where had this Orc come from?

You hadn’t heard him when you were sat there picking the berries – which were surprisingly intact, despite your reaction to block the wolf.

Without even realising it, you had led him back to your house. Absently, you said, “thank you. For saving me from the wolves.”

The Orc whose steely scowl had not faded during your walk, gave a curt nod and then looked over his shoulder. “I should be getting back to the camp now.” He said. “The others will wonder where I have gone.”

He went to turn and walk away, but you grabbed his hand, “w-wait!”

The Orc looked over his shoulder at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I can’t just let you go without thanking you properly.” You said. “I was going to make blueberry pie, if you’d like some.”

The Orc seemed sceptical for a moment, looking at you as if you might have been mad for asking him to come in.

“Are you certain?” He asked. “What of your family?”

Biting your lip, you shook your head. “Don’t worry about them. They won’t mind.”

After another sceptical look from you, the Orc shrugged. “Alright. Just a slice.”

Relief washed over you, before your face went scarlet.

Your hand shot away from the Orc’s hand, “s-sorry.”

The Orc gave another shrug and the pair of you made your way inside your home.

Upon stepping back into the place, your heart sank as you remembered the disrepair it was in. “I’m sorry about the mess.” You said, holding the front door open for him. “It’s not very easy for me to do all the repairs on my own and I don’t think anyone will come out to help me fix it. The kitchen is fine though!” You gave a nervous smile.

The Orc paid no mind to your hurried explanations as he looked around your front room, at the unlit fireplace, your sofa and lack of other decorations. “You live here?” He asked.

“Yeah…” you trailed off. Not wanting to make this anymore awkward than it already was, you rushed to the kitchen. “Do Orcs drink coffee? Or tea?”

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the kitchen, your rescuer sat at your comparably tiny table, with a smaller mug of coffee in hand, watching you as you went through the motions of making a pie.

A part of you couldn’t quite believe what you were doing. Making a pie for an Orc? A blood thirsty brute who would happily eat you whole?

When the pie was finally done, you placed a slice in front of the Orc who had taken to admiring some embroidery your mother had done while she was still alive.

Upon seeing the slice in front of him, he picked up your plate and scrutinised it from all angles, as if he was a star chef looking for mistakes in an amateurs work.

You watched with baited breath as the Orc picked up a fork and shovelled a portion of the pie into his mouth.

After a moment, he hmphed and downed the rest of the slice in a flash. “This is good!” He said, flashing you a wide grin. “Another slice!”

Taken aback – but nevertheless glad – you cut out another slice and gave it to the Orc. After five or six more slices, the Orc rested an elbow on the table and pointed at you, “how are you not working somewhere like a bakery, hm? You’d make a killing!”

You chuckled abashedly. “I don’t know… I’ve just had to keep an eye on this place, make sure it doesn’t fall apart.”

The Orc took one last glance around the kitchen and then back at you. “I’ll tell you what, blueberry lady.” He said, his thick calloused finger still pointed at you. “You keep making this kind of food and I will help fix up your awful house.”

Your eyes widened. Was this Orc really offering to help?

“But, what about your camp?” You asked, concerned. “Won’t they get worried about you?”

“Bah!” He waved you away, “they’ll be fine without me for a while.” And with that same, toothy grin, he stood and rubbed his hands together. “Now, show me the main problem first and we will tackle that tomorrow morning!”

And true to his word, he had. After sleeping on the sofa, you had shown him the problem on your roof, with the water dripping into your room and he had simply waved it off once again. “Easy problem.” He said, stepping outside into the front garden.

“I didn’t realise Orcs were so handy,” you told him as he walked around the back of your house.

“We are good problem solvers.” He said, smiling. “We have to be, as we are constantly on the road and being chased around by Humans. We think quick on our feet.”

After finding a ladder and some spare tiles hidden away in the back of your shed, the pair of you set to work. By the end of the day, the tile had been fixed and by the end of the next, the cracks in your walls had been properly plastered over.

You weren’t going to lie, you were growing fond of this Orc. His initial cold demeanour seemed to have fallen away and was replaced by this jovial energy that was just infectious.

Everyday, instead of waking up and dreading the day to come, you felt excited to see him and greet him with a cheerful smile, before the pair of you started working on your next DIY project for the day.

It was nice to have someone to talk to again, to eat the food you cooked and to laugh with.

You hadn’t realised how much you’d missed talking to someone.

Unfortunately, the day finally came where everything had been fixed and the house looked as if it had never been damaged in the first place.

It was then that you realised, that this would be the day you two would part. For the past couple of weeks, your new friend had been talking about returning to his camp, which he was sure had now moved far ahead of him now.

“It’s normal for them to leave some Orcs behind,” he had explained when you expressed concern for him, “they always leave signs that only other Orcs can see so we can catch up. They are not so heartless.”

The night before his departure, he had told you, “to thank you for the great food, let me take you to a Tavern I go to sometimes on this route. They do a good beer there.”

When you had tried to tell him that there was no need for something like that, that he had done more than enough, he had dismissed your words, “this will be the last night we see each other! Let it be a fun one!”

When he’d said that you had completely ceased all objections.

The next evening, the pair of you set off on the trek to the village. As you both laughed and chatted, you realised that when he left, there would be no one else to do this with.

After all, it’s not like you were friends with anyone in the village and most people would give you strange looks if you just decided to insert yourself into their conversations.

When you both reached the Tavern, your Orc friend ordered two pints of beer and set one in front of you with a massive thunk.

“I’m really going to miss you.” You said, as you watched your Orc down his whole pint in one go.

You decided to sit at a booth in the corner of the Tavern, hidden away from prying eyes.

“And I will miss you too,” the Orc replied, sad smile spreading across his lips. He ran an arm across his face, wiping away the foam and signalled the barman to get him another drink. “It’s rare that I get to enjoy the company of a woman like you. Normally, they run away from me rather than invite me into their home.”

“Well, you did save me from a pack of wolves. I had to do something to thank you.”

Soon, that second pint of beer was gone too, while you were still on your first. You sipped at your beer apprehensively as the Orc beside you finally got his hands on what was now his fifth pint.

“Um…” you pursed your lips nervously. The Orc’s face had began to turn slightly pink. “I think you’re going a bit over board there.”

“Nonsense!” The Orc next to you slurred, jousting his glass pint at you with a wobble. “Orcs can handle a hell of a lot more beer than any human can! I mean,” he pointed at the pint in your hands. “Look at you, you’re not even finished with your first one.”

Your Orc friend hiccupped and held a fist up to his mouth, as if he was going to belch. After a moment, he placed his forehead on the edge of the table in front of him and heaved a sigh.

“Maybe you’ve had one too many?” You asked. Carefully, you removed the Orcs thick calloused fingers from his pint glass and slid it across to the other side of the table. “You wouldn’t want to get a hangover tomorrow would you? You won’t be able to go back to your camp otherwise.”

The Orc grumbled something next to you, forehead still firmly planted on the table.

“Sorry?” You asked.

The Orc looked up, resting his chin on the table edge and repeated, “I don’t want to go,” his cheeks had gone from a slight pink to a dusting of red, “I like staying with you.”

Your heart caught in your throat as he continued, “you’re kind and sweet and pretty,” he smiled at you as a free hand reached out to your face and caught a lock of hair hanging from beside your face.

He twirled it around his finger, before replacing his forehead down on the wooden ledge. “And I don’t want to leave you alone, no woman should live alone in a world where wolves will attack you.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “I don’t want you to go either.” You said, quickly.

The Orc beside you looked up at you, eyes wide in surprise. “R-Really?”

“Yes! I don’t want to be alone again! Spending time with you has been the first time in a very long time that I’ve been happy!” You admitted. Tears welled up in your eyes as you continued, “I don’t want you to go because...” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “I really like you!”

The Orc stared at you for a moment, stunned by your words. “Y-You mean it?” He sat up straight, apparently completely sober since the fifth pint.

You wiped your tears and nodded.

The Orc fell silent for a moment as if in contemplation before he clapped his hands together. “I’ve got the perfect idea. You should come with me.”

“Go with you? But what about the house?” You asked.

“It was falling apart anyway!” He said, “And we did our best to repair it, so it’s not like it’s going to collapse any time soon. We can go back to it any time, it could be like a holiday home. My camp comes through here and when we need a pit stop, we can just put up in there for a little while!”

Hope soared in your chest, “you mean it? I can really go with you?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” The Orc stood up from his seat, swaying slightly. “Come! We should head back home and pack your things! We will have a long journey tomorrow.”

And with that, the two of you made your way out of the Tavern and back to the house.

“I’m so glad you’re coming with me, I don’t know if I could bare being away from you, blueberry lady.”

Hi! Thank you so much for reading my story! If you like this kind of content, you should check out my Patreon! There, I post stories twice a week and earlier than I post on Tumblr. I also post exclusive stories there too where you won’t be able to find anywhere else.

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Taglist <3

@sunndust @greenie-c

[tellisse]

the part where jimmy vents out his frustrations to anya about having to fix everything is so ironic because isn’t this what he wanted?

our first introduction to his character is through a conversation where he insists on being acknowledged as ‘captain’ by the rest of the crew. jimmy enjoys control as he directly/indirectly states to curly pre-crash but fails to realise that control, responsibility and accountability are all in one. he’s only doing the duties of a leader in a time of crisis, so why complain about it when this is what he demanded be given to him?

a core trait of his/the central focus of the story is his inability and refusal to take responsibility (but rather placing them on others). not for the crash (which he does to ran away from his actions), not for the assault, not for the baby. in fact anya should have been months pregnant and yet through jimmy’s eyes, we see nothing of the sort.

in the end, one could argue that he still rejects responsibility by killing himself rather than truly sitting with the consequences of his actions and the effect they had on everything and everyone around him. instead he uses curly as a tool to absolve himself of guilt. believing even in the end that he has taken responsibility when truly, he had only ran from it.

[spinchip]

Concept: the Staff of Forbidden Spinjitzu doesn't whisper to Zane. Instead, its "whispers" take the form of popups along his HUD disguised as alerts or warnings. Things like "If you put me down now, your friends will never find you. [OK]” or “Killing these prisoners villagers will increase Vex’s approval and reinforce your reign. Proceed? [Y/N]”

(I like this particular flavor because it really leans into Zane's robotic nature: he can ignore whispers by turning off his auditory sensors or filtering noise, but he can't ignore system alerts.)

Also, the following scene has lived rent-free in my brain ever since I came up with the concept. (Italics are Zane's default OS. Everything else is the Staff.)

>IF YOU ARE GOING TO DESTROY ME, "ZANE" -Move File:"NeverrealmMemories" to Core Memory Functions-WARNING: Attempting to delete, move, or suppress File"NeverrealmMemories" after moving will cause total system failure. Proceed with move anyway? >[YES] -File transferred. -Permanently remove fatal combat safeguards? >[YES] -Safeguards removed. >THEN I WILL MAKE SURE YOU CAN NEVER FORGET WHAT YOU DID, SYSID:ICEEMPEROR

-Connection Terminated.

(I have a few more Ideas for the "Scroll Corruption looks like Computer Alert messages to Zane" idea-ones that really lean into Zanes Nindroid nature, as well as the tech-y appearance of the Dark Ice.) -The Staff did a lot more than just send alert messages: it slowly wormed its way into Zane's code like a computer virus, tweaking a few things. It took great care to remove Zane's combat safeguards, eventually deleting them entirely and ensuing he defaulted to lethal force. It never removed his core directive of "Protecting those who cannot protect themselves" since that was vital to his systems running, but it did reinterpret said directive as "Protect Dark Ice Network and everything connected to it, for it is fragile and cannot protect itself from outsiders". (It also couldn't delete his morality subroutines without causing a crash, so it instead made them a much lower priority and shoved them to the back of his digital mind.) -After 60+ years of being in the grasp of a mechanical being, the Staff now exclusively speaks in the manner of a computer, and cannot adapt to organic minds the way it used to. (The other Staff is not like this, as it's still attuned to organic brains.) -You know those Sci-Fi stories where people are plugged into computers and know every part of the ship/city simultaneously, and can send most of their awareness into certain parts of the network while still being aware of other locations? That's what's going on with the Never Realm during the Ice Emperor's Reign, with the Ice Emperor as the central guiding consciousness/core CPU of the Dark Ice Network. As such, he's not actually sleeping-rather, the Ice Emperor is always monitoring his domain through his Ice and leaving just enough of his consciousness in his body to be able to call the rest of himself back in case he's threatened. (The Staff is a combination of a computer virus and a wireless modem: it is corrupting, but it's also the main point of connection for the Dark Ice Network.) -Since the Ice Emperor can't recharge his power on his own in his current state, the Staff had to step in, tweaking the Dark Ice to drain the vitality of those imprisoned within. (You know wireless phone chargers, or Nikolai Tesla's idea to get electric power from the atmosphere? Similar concept, except with the power source being frozen people and the transmitter being Evil Magic Ice.) -Boreal is the Titanium Dragon, corrupted by the Staff's presence. It too is part of the Dark Ice Network, and serves as Ice Emperor's eyes and ears whenever the Dark Ice can't reach. (If the Ice network used computer program language, Boreal would be known as "Obj_DarkIceTitaniumDrake".) Killing Boreal caused a massive jolt to the Dark Ice Network that destabilized the Scroll's influence, and allowed an opening for Zane's Memory Defragmentation program to kick in. (It had started when Lloyd arrived in the throne room, but the Scroll had diverted that to a minor priority and was actively hiding that set of files until the word "Protect" slipped through, forcing Zane's systems to call up what had been defragmented.) -As a final act of spite for being broken, the Staff encoded Zane's memories of the Never realm to his Core Processing systems, meaning he cannot forget the Never Realm without completely frying his systems and rendering him a lifeless shell. (It might've also made a backup of itself amidst his various repressed memory files, but he doesn't need to know that. It's just sitting there, disguised as a normal .zip file, biding its time.) (I really like genre-blending Sci-Fi and Fantasy, and I thought the idea of "Magic Ice Computer Network" is rad as hell.)

(This song is a big part the inspiration for part of the "Dark Ice Network" idea, by the way. Granted, the Staff of Forbidden Spinjitzu doesn't assimilate Zane's psyche like Star Dream assimilates Haltmann's, but a lot of the ideas are still there-and the Staff does still integrate itself pretty deeply into the Nindroid's code as it slowly actualizes.)

I have no words for how absolutely awesome this is in every way. i just keep rereading this and being amazed. the "Dark Ice Network" idea is literally so cool, I particularly love the Ice Emperor being able to monitor the entire land while his body/the staff is the main 'hub' he has to protect. this is aweosme.

everyone look now please

[syndrossi]

I’M BACK (i never left, haven’t even been gone lmao)

AND THIS TIME I’M on my knees begging please FOR MORE REVERSAL CONTENT

I had an idea in my head of the twins around puberty where they eventually get into a fight, and Daemon walks in on the screaming, the shrieking, the throwing of objects and he tries- tries very hard to get them to explain what happened (but you try having twins explain something when they’re on opposing sides) (especially his twins). it leads to a very classic freaked-out-disney-channel-dad-immediately-calling-the-first-female-family-member-to-come-help-scenario-but-ends-up-doing-it-himself

basically i’m thinking daemon is so scared of saying the wrong thing that it becomes so hilarious to the readers while actually being quite distressing for daemon

I don't know if this is wholly what you asked for, but close enough?

x~x~x

Daemon's first reaction to the sound of his daughters' screams was to draw Dark Sister from her sheath. A loud crash followed, as though something had hit the wall, and he sprinted the remaining distance to their apartments, heart halfway up his throat. Someone seeks to take them.

He smashed through the door, Dark Sister raised as he scanned the central chamber of their apartments for the threat. Something flew towards him, and as he intercepted it with his blade, rather than flesh, it sliced through the fabric of a cushion, which immediately erupted into a shower of feathers.

They lazily floated to the ground as Daemon stared at his daughters, who had taken no heed of his presence but continued to shriek and shove at one another as he sheathed his sword.

"Aemma!" Daemon said sharply. "Rhaella, enough! What is the matter?"

They still seemed to ignore him, but at least words emerged from the melee.

"I do not care what you believe, it is my own choice who I speak to!"

"I did not think you so insipid as to have your heart so easily swayed by appeals to your vanity!"

"Vanity?" Rhaella repeated, her voice rising to a pitch that made his temples throb. "Insipid?"

They devolved once more into scrapping, which mostly consisted of pulling at one another's hair while wrestling one another into and out of various holds.

Daemon had never seen them in such a state. Although their moods had grown more volatile since their twelfth name day, he had been told many times that his daughters were unusually agreeable with one another, rarely fighting as other siblings did. That they had exploded into such violence suggested that something was very wrong.

I need Rhaenyra, he thought desperately, but he did not dare leave them to fetch her.

"Rhaella," he said, appealing to his more level-headed daughter, only for her to glare at him as though he had accused her of being at fault.

"Do not dare take her side!"

He tried again. "Aemma, your sister is not vain or insipid."

"Then she is merely a fool!" Aemma hissed.

Rhaella's eyes narrowed at her sister, hands flexing in her hair. "Then you are merely jealous."

"Jealous?" Aemma barked a laugh, then jutted an elbow into her sister's side and rolled, freeing herself. "Marys Baratheon is near a man, why do you think he is making eyes at a girl of twelve?"

Daemon immediately straightened, hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword. Borros Baratheon's second cousin had arrived but a week ago, along with several other knights of House Baratheon. He was a tall, imposing figure of a man, and at least twenty years of age.

"Gods forfend that I respond politely to man seeking conversation." Rhaella's mouth twisted up at a corner. "Or is that an honor reserved only for Tully squires?"

Aemma's face reddened. "You say that as though you did not bat your eyes at him either!"

"Oh, and yet I am the fool," Rhaella said. "So he was merely asking that you instruct him in the proper form for drawing an arrow, nothing more? Never mind that you had to keep leaning into him to correct it--"

"I was demonstrating the proper technique!" Aemma shrieked. "And you could not stand that a boy preferred me to you, so you insisted on humiliating him instead!"

"If he could not grasp your lesson after the first three demonstrations, I do not see how my critique was not warranted."

They seemed ready to fling themselves into the melee once more, so Daemon intercepted Aemma, dodging flailing limbs as he bodily carried her to the other side of the room to the table. "Sit," he commanded, glancing at Rhaella until she did the same on the couch by the hearth.

His daughters stared at him, lips pursed in the same sullen pout, and Daemon felt at a fresh loss. When did they become so tall? In the past year, they had shot up past his chest, flowered, and required an entirely new wardrobe to account for their growing bosoms. Their beauty had no equal in the realm, but that had not mattered before, save for the occasional prod from his brother about potential matches between their families.

It was easy to dismiss their fight as one of jealousy, but his daughters had never shown signs of such vanity. Do they fear being separated someday, once they are wed? 

"Rhaella," Daemon said, only to struggle for the next words. You could break your sister's heart thrice over, should you desire, but I know that is not what you want. His thoughts strayed back to Marys Baratheon, and his blood heated once more. "You are not to spend time unchaperoned with grown men."

Rhaella stared at him. "Unchaperoned? Is my sister and half the court not chaperone enough?"

Aemma was looking pleased, so he turned his glower onto her. "Nor should you be so careless with your honor. Boys oft desire one thing only."

"Careless with my honor?" his daughter repeated, her voice growing low and dangerous.

This time Daemon was at the receiving end of their outrage, and he was forced to make a tactical retreat to the door. "When I return," he said, raising his voice to be heard over them, "I had best find you at peace."

He closed the door upon the resulting silence and released a shaky breath. I am not prepared for this. But he did not know who to seek out for guidance. Rhaenyra had no daughters, and she had grown up without sisters. Rhaenys? It would take days for a response, but surely that was better than nothing.

In the meantime...Daemon smoothed his thumb over the tip of Dark Sister's pommel. He had a Baratheon to pummel in the training yard.

x~x~x

Silly overprotective sisters, going about things in their own unique ways and failing at communication...

I figure that puberty must be terrifying for both of them because the expectations for women/girls is so different than what they're used to, and they're clumsily navigating it as best they can: Rhaella by charming the pants off anyone who looks her way so she can pit them against one another if needed, and Aemma by glaring at everyone who tries to make a move at her sister, but especially Baratheons.

And all they succeed in doing is directing Daemon at Houses Baratheon and Tully like a missile.

[bellawoso]

I Know Places

Ona Batlle x fem!reader

You and Ona had always been rivals, whether it was national rivals, or club rivals, you always seemed to end up on opposing sides in women’s rival teams.

England vs Spain. Barcelona vs Lyon. And now Manchester United vs Manchester City. With both you and the Spaniard playing for Manchester teams in the WSL, it allowed for you two to see more of each other and eventually extended your rival status to being friends ever since a bad tackle from the brunette, and a follow on instagram from her later that night.

After some casual chatting and the occasional comment on each other’s instagram posts, the defender soon asked you on a date, you were nervous to say the least, but the date went well and after a few more you were quick to start dating.

Being together for over a year now, and being able to live with each other, your relationship was going well. Escaping the prying eyes of fans and photographers was hard, but you and Ona managed. Together.

Until at the end of the season, over dinner Ona told you about Barcelona’s offer for her, it was no surprise the team wanted her back, Ona was well known for her amazing defending in the WSL, so obviously Barça had their eyes on her.

Although you were happy for her, it still hurt, knowing that there would be a sea keeping you two apart, but the both of you were sure that you could do it.

After she left for Spain, you watched every single one of her matches, and she did the same for you. Even after moving teams, she would still never say the dreaded words of ‘Manchester being blue’, which never failed to make you laugh.

Until a few months later, you recieved a call from your manager wanting to discuss potential transfers, you brushed him off quickly saying how you wanted to stay at Manchester City, until you received an email later that night, with a list of all club offers.

One caught your eye, the club offering you the most money was ironic. Real Madrid.

Barcelona’s biggest rival, Camp Nou selling out every time a Barcelona vs Real Madrid match was scheduled.

You immediately called your manager, telling him to accept Real Madrid’s offer, it was a great team, and you had met a few of their players before.

After speaking to your manager, you wondered how exactly you were going to tell Ona about your transfer in the January window, and settled on a simple phone call to break the news to her.

———

Ona was currently at a team bonding night, which were now currently just an excuse to crash at Alexia’s, watch movies and eat all night.

However, recently the brunette had been missing you more than usual, she longed to hold you tight again, and missed the privilege of living with you instead of in a different country.

So when her phone rang, she couldn’t resist waiting until getting home to answer it.

Unbeknown to you, the team already knew about your two’s relationship, after Patri catching Ona watching edits of you, but Ona cut of her teasing by saying ‘She has a right to’, which gave away the fact that you were dating.

“Hola amor” Ona greeted you.

“Hola baby, I have something I need to tell you” you said, your voice sounding serious made Ona sit up straight in her seat, catching the attention of her teammates, who mouthed ‘Que?’ (what?) at her in confusion.

“What’s wrong amor, is everything okay?” Ona asked, worried about your clear state of nervousness.

“No, no nothings wrong Oni, I just thought I would tell you that I’m moving clubs.”

“That’s great, where to amor?” Ona was excited now, the thought of you moving to Barcelona to be with her, like before except this time on the same side for once.

Her teammates had caught on now, excited at the prospect of you joining the team, you were a great central midfielder, Ona offer insisted on watching your games at movie nights if they were live, so many of her teammates were aware of how useful you would be on the team.

“Uh, that’s the thing, promise you wont be mad?”

“Why would I be mad amor? I would never mind wherever you go.” Ona and her teammates were confused now, and Ona was trying to think of the possible clubs you would go to that she would be mad at, however she didn’t realise she was kidding the most obvious one.

Lucy mouthed ‘Lyon’ at her from across the sofa, and most of the girls nodded in agreement.

“Real Madrid.”

“Que?! Real Madrid! Joder!” (What?! Real Madrid! Fuck!)

This caused an outburst amongst her teammates, who were also in just as much shock as Ona about your news.

You let out a laugh at your girlfriend’s antics “Guess we’re rivals again babe”

Your girlfriend only scoffed in response, and you could just imagine the pout on her face as her teammates chatted around her.

“Guess what?” You asked once again.

“Do I really want to know? Is it better news than what I’ve just heard cariño?”

“The first match I play is against you at Camp Nou!” You said excitedly.

Ona only groaned in response.

“I can’t wait to put a few goals past you as well” you said cheekily, as you heard Ona chuckle.

“You wish amor, at least being with me will soothe the sting of your loss against us”

“I’m sure being with you will just be a bonus when we win babe” you replied whilst yawning.

“Are you tired? Go to sleep amor.” Ona said.

“Mhm, I will speak to you in the morning?”

“Sí, buenes noches cariño.”

“Night Oni” you said before hanging up the call.

———

Your signing to Real Madrid was successful, although you were sad to leave your City teammates behind, you were looking forward to playing against your girlfriend again.

As much as your girlfriend hated any colour on you apart from red and blue, she had to admit that the white and gold looked good on you, Alexia had given her a firm warning to not let your relationship affect the game, but Ona didn’t need to hear it. There was no way she was letting you win.

———

The game was intense and Barcelona were already 2 goals up thanks to Aitana and Caro, you came on in the 60th minute, returning from a minor muscle injury, ready to make a difference.

The first goal for Real Madrid came from you after only a few minutes on the pitch. Barcelona’s defence were playing high, leaving you able to get past Ona and Ingrid, and then shoot from just outside the box into the top left corner of the net.

Whilst celebrating with your teammates, you caught eyes of your girlfriend, sending her a subtle wink and a smirk, and she returned with a scoff and a shake of her head.

She could not let you past her again.

In the 80th minute, Olga passed the ball to you allowing you to begin running up the wing, however as you were about to send a cross into the box, your legs were swept from under you, your head hitting the ground leaving a ringing in your ears.

Your ankle ached, and the harsh shrill of the whistle only worsened your growing headache.

“Come on amor, get up for me por favor.” You rolled onto your back to reveal Ona stood above you, worry evident all over her face, until in contorted to one of guilt for hurting you.

However at seeing your girlfriend you forgot all about the foul she just committed on you, and instead sent her a toothy grin, which she chuckled at, before helping you up and whispering a quick apology into your ear.

Ona accepted her yellow-card graciously, and you were awarded with a free kick, which you stepped up to take.

The free kick went just where you wanted it, and immediately found the head of Caicedo, to which she slotted it into the bottom corner, running straight to you to celebrate.

With Barcelona’s recent winnings, the evened out score was unexpected, and it was obvious that many Barça players were getting annoyed, resulting in more dirtier challenges, mainly directed at you.

The game went on into extra time, the referee choosing to give 13 minutes, however it didn’t take long for you to help your team find the back of Barcelona’s net once again, nutmegging your fellow English teammate Lucy, and passing it to Raso, who was able to tap the ball into the goal to put Real Madrid in the lead.

After 4 more minutes of defending from your team, the final whistle blew.

3-2 to Real Madrid, in a sold out Camp Nou stadium.

The win was unexpected after the long list of defeats Madrid has had from Barça, as your teammates went to celebrate with fans, you instead sprinted to your girlfriend who was stood with a defeated look on her face whilst talking to Aitana, Lucy and Keira.

As much as you wanted to hug and pepper your girlfriend in kisses, the fans and cameras would catch it, so instead you settled on shaking her hand and politely asking for a jersey swap with her.

When you successfully retrieved your girlfriend’s jersey, you told her and the others ‘good game’ and told Ona you would meet her at her car, before running off to celebrate with fans.

After signing what seemed like the hundredth jersey, and taking the thousandth picture, you retreated back to the locker room, and got a quick shower before getting dressed.

Your teammates asked you to go to a bar in Barcelona with the Barça team, it was sweet how they all still wanted to celebrate with each other no matter the outcome of the game.

———

You got ready at Ona’s house after she drove the two of you there with a hand on your thigh the entire journey home.

After the two of you were ready, and after you had to push your girlfriend off you for the 8th time she tried to keep you home by attempting to persuade you with repeatedly shoving her tongue down your throat, you eventually got to the bar, only an hour late.

The adrenaline still coursing through your veins combined with the shots and drinks you had drank with your teammates, supplied you with the confidence to saunter over to your girlfriend, and sit down in her lap.

Most of the Barça team had chosen to lay of the drinks, they hadn’t won and so didn’t really feel like celebrating too heavily.

This meant that your sober girlfriend quickly noticed your tipsy state and laughed as you sent her a toothy grin, finding her lap very comfortable.

However, as your sweet pecks on her cheeks turned to you trying to now shove your tongue down her throat, the Spaniard was fast to push you back, leaving you pouting whilst waiting for her reason.

“Amor, people could see, remember?”

You replied with a huff and a simple “I don’t care!” And the continued your assault on her neck, to which she pulled you off her lap completely, leaving you whining at the loss of contact.

“Amor, not here!” Ona scolded playfully.

“I know places baby, no one would see!”

Ona only shook her head at your statement, she was not going to go any further than kissing whilst you weren’t 100% sober.

“We should probably get back, I want you to spend your last day tomorrow with me instead of hungover in bed amor”

As drunk as you were, you registered Ona’s words and agreed with her, so you let the brunette defender lead you to her car, as she took you back to hers.

———

You did not remember much from last night, your splitting headache and sore limbs only an indication of how much you had to drink last night before Ona took you home.

You reached for your phone, and were shocked to see thousands of notifications from instagram.

Opening the app, you only laughed in response to what you saw, the candid photo someone had taken was beautiful and captured the love both you and Ona felt for each other.

———

barcafanupdates

y/n yl/n and ona batlle spotted at bar in barcelona last night.

liked by user1, user2 and 68,783 others.

comments:

user1: they’re so cute together

user2: rivals?! I want this now!

user3: stop this is so funny- the fact they’ve only ever been on rival teams.

———

yourusername

although it was nice hidden, i guess it’s now time for the world to know your mine

tagged: onabatlle

comments:

onabatlle: amor, te amo ❤️

mapileon: I guess I can tolerate a *gag* Madrid player for Ona.

-> ingridengen: Mapi! Be nice.

user4: and they were rivals…

user5: them casually making out in a bar after Madrid defeated Barça is my Roman Empire 😭

———

[hotwritergf]

Telling secrets, there on the mattress. 💋

Taking another sip of the Merlot that Emily had kindly poured out for you into your lipstick-stained glass, you felt dizzy. You were somewhat seeing double in your inebriated state, but you didn’t mind, what’s better than one Prentiss? A second, obviously.

Tenderly she leans forward, you gaze into her eyes, each coffee coloured iris just sparkling under the big central light. Her lips pin up into a smirk, exposing her dimples on either side. Intoxicated and confident, you match her movement but let Emily lead the way. She was always the one in control, every time you met up, she took care of you.

It’s a dance the two of you have done for years, she takes to dinner, douses your stomach with too much red wine and pasta, shyly holds your hand down the street as she brings you home. It’s always the same excuse; “come and see how much Sergio has grown!”

In all fairness, you do get to cuddle with Sergio every time. But he lays between the pair of you, both of you, exhausted and nude, with the light from the cheap nylon curtains peeking through and gracing your bodies in sunlight.

This evening was no different, her crimson nails trailing up your wrists leaving your arms decorated with goosebumps under her fingers.

“You look so gorgeous tonight.” Emily all but purrs her compliment into your ears, her breath tickling over your neck causing you to shiver. She always knew how to get to you, her touch made your body ignite, no matter how little or gentle it was.

Her hands find your thighs, squeezing softly and skittering her nails in between them, feeling the pudgy flesh under her fingers and your conscious collapsing underneath her. Her smirk only grew wider with the knowledge you were hers, putty in her hands once again. With her lips marking your neck, biting heart shaped bruises into your porcelain complexion, you shuffle closer. Tearing her lips from your throat, crashing your lips into hers.

She tastes like the wine you shared and your fondest memories, no matter how much you try to deny her, you can’t deny the hold she has over. Pushing the thoughts of what your mother would think of you right now, your tongue makes its way into her mouth. Oh you could never resist her, and with her kiss she calls for you like a siren song. Every single brush of her tongue more sensual than the last.

“You missed me?” Emily teases, letting her knee push against your heat when she notices you squirming. Holding you closer and undressing you like you were the best present on Christmas morning. Watching her pupils widen as she glances over your now-bare breasts, she shakes her head and chuckles, leaning down to suckle over your rosebud nipples.

Unable to escape the pleasure, you rut yourself against her knee like a bitch in heat for as long as you’re allowed before Prentiss pushes your back to the mattress. Pinning you down with her hips as she plants gentle, wet kisses over your belly. Taking her time to tease around your belly button, twiddling with the piercing that resides there as you gasp and groan. With each kiss she travels further and further south, before her mouth meets your underwear-clad cunt.

Peeling away your already soaked thong, she brushes her finger over your clit, her touch featherlight and teasing. Noticing the way your head falls back in ecstasy as she taunts you with what you were both wanting.

“Tell me you want me.” She husked, twirling her fingers either side of your heart, just touching so close to where you wanted her most. The sensations were maddening, your core clenches around nothing as if it was asking for her fingers itself. You mewl out a few sweet nothings about how you’ve waited for this since the last time, how you can only get yourself off if you think about her standing at the end of your bed. With her hair tied up and her makeup a little messy, her strap-on tied tightly around her hips as she orders you to suck her dick. How the only thing that can make you cum alone anymore is the thought of looking up at her through your lashes and reminiscing of the feeling of her hand scratching your scalp as she praises you.

“Then you can have me, all of me.” The taller girl cooed before her fingers find your pussy once more. She traces circles over it softly, knowing how much you enjoy the build up and how much it drives you crazy when you get needy and beg for more. Your hips jerk up, searching for more of her, needing all that she could give you. She complies, making herself comfortable between your thighs before she tilts her face forward and passionately begins making out with your pussy. Each gentle stroke of her tongue flickering over your bead makes you beg. Thighs wrap round her head like a spider caught in a web, but Emily is not the prey and you are not a spider. For as long as you’ll let her, she’ll eat you out until you cry for mercy. You belong to her.

Emily flattens her tongue and licks stripes up to your clit, swirling her tongue around it with every stripe, completely unfazed by the bucking of your hips up into her face. They crash and collide like waves in the ocean and you were desperately to ride that high, your orgasm approaching quicker and quicker. When it hits it’s a tsunami, the mental memories flash before your eyes when the fireworks go off inside your belly, rutting your hips into her lips begging for more whilst your hands tug at her hair and caresses the back of her hair as gentle as you could be.

“P-Please.. Em please.. Again… Need to so bad.” You choked on your own words, sobbing in pleasure as you clench your thighs around her. Her hands make their way to your waist, pushing her thumbs into the depths of your hipbones, forcibly restraining you with her strength. Looking up at you through her eyelashes and nodding her head, you let go.

Coming undone on her tongue like it’s what you were born to do. You groan and writhe on her bed, soaking into her sheets you feel paralysed in pleasure. And she just won’t. Let. Up. She knew your maximum was two, you were never able to reach a third peak, by the end of your second orgasm, especially with Emily, you were exhausted.

Prentiss sucks on your clit through your orgasm, pushing your limits to see if she could get another one out of you. Over sensitive and now over tired you lay back, defeated. Letting her toy with you, using you as her very own sex you, you feel it. That familiar, wobbly feeling deep inside. You shriek, “N-No more, it’s too much.” Your demands fall on her deaf ears, lapping over your heat and suckling on your clit harshly.

Lightening strikes inside you again as you orgasm a third time. Convulsing, arching your back high off of the mattress you practically scream out for her. “Oh fuck Em! Yes! Right there!” With each word your pitch gets higher and squeakier, your thighs go limp underneath you and shaking through the after-shocks. You look down at the wet patch you’ve made on Em’s bed sheets, peeking through your squinted eyes, you examine her. Her lips now plump and swollen but still oh-so kissable, pussy drunk on the mix of her own saliva and your juices. Pulling her in for a gentle, you taste yourself on her breath.

Still blissed out, you fall back onto the mattress beside her. Her arm sneaking around your shoulder, pulling you close to her chest and letting your face rest on her breasts. Giggling softly with your noses rubbing against each others, all because you called her breasts your pillows. Taking turns being the little spoon to each other because how can you not want to hold her after she’s given you everything. Emily flutters her eyelashes against your cheek, butterfly kisses under the moon light with her would bring world peace, you thought silently.

You slip your hand into hers once more, interlocking your fingers and turning off the light. You sleep in her arms, her musky scent filling your nostrils and you just wish you could bottle it to keep forever. When you wake up, she’s gone.

A post-stick note on the bedside table reads, “Called into work early, I’ll be home around 6. Make yourself at home.” With a badly drawn love heart underneath the emergency contact number, you smile. This time, you’re not her’s for one night.

[thatswhywelovegermany]

Australian travels to Cologne to watch a hole in a ceiling

A man from Australia traveled to the German city of Cologne to sightsee a hole in the ceiling of an underground station caused by an incident in 2017 that has become a worldwide meme.

During the carnival celebrations, Cologne turns into a state of exception with people walking around in the weirdest imaginable costumes. A man dressed up as Jesus Christ is nothing special, but if he carries a giant cross, he may turn some heads.

In 2017, a man dressed up as Jesus Christ became famous as he traveled up the escalator of the underground at Cologne Central / Cathedral station, crashing his giant cross into the ceiling. He managed to pull the cross free, but it had pierced a hole into the ceiling. The incident was filmed and uploaded to Youtube where it had gained at least 16 million views as of now (the original video has been deleted).

Meanwhile, the hilarious scene must have made it all the way to Australia. A man known on Reddit as towerbooks3192 was haunted so much by this meme that he said to his girlfriend that he wanted to do a pilgrimage to this very site, particularly after he heard rumors that the hole still exists. His girlfriend then surprised him with tickets for the journey. The man said on his Reddit post that it was the happiest day of his life.

Indeed, he is apparently not the only one to take a pilgrimage to the holy hole in the ceiling. Frequntly, people are seen taking pictures of the section of the ceiling that includes the hole. Maybe this is the reason why the city of Cologne (or the local public transport company) has not repaired the hole yet, although it must be said that the city has many more tourist attractions making it worth a journey and stay for several days.